The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “You ready to get up, baby?”

  I sighed, happily. “Mmm, if I have to. But to tell you the truth, I’d be quite happy staying here all day, if someone brought us food. And condoms.”

  Sebastian kissed me quickly on my chest, then kicked the sheets back, the cooler air making me flinch.

  “Hey!” I complained.

  “Up,” he said, as he stood over me.

  Then he leaned down and fastened his teeth over my nipple, tugging gently.

  “You cheat,” I grumbled, staggering the short distance from the bed to the shower.

  He swatted my ass, which I felt was unnecessary: he’d already made his point.

  The water wasn’t hot, which didn’t encourage us to linger, and I stood in the bedroom, shivering slightly as I dressed.

  “It doesn’t take you long to get ready, does it, Caro. You never even bother to put on makeup.”

  Sebastian was sitting on the bed, smiling at me as he buckled up his boots.

  I was slightly taken aback by his remark. Did that mean that he wanted me to wear makeup—that he thought I should?

  “I do sometimes,” I replied, trying not to sound aggrieved, “if I’m going out somewhere dressy. But not usually, no. Why?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Just saying. It drives me crazy when women spend hours getting ready to go out.”

  I felt relieved—and annoyed at myself for feeling relieved. I was a modern woman who didn’t need a man’s approval on how I dressed. Except, maybe … yes, damn it! I wanted Sebastian’s approval on how I dressed. I craved the way he looked at me, like he’d never seen anything so precious. Maybe I ought to make a little more effort. Just for the next few days: give him the best memories I could, before we were parted.

  I vowed to buy some lipstick and mascara in the next pharmacy or supermarket we found.

  “You remember that time we went clothes shopping in San Diego?” he said, pulling me out of my self-flagellating thoughts. “You had to buy a new dress?”

  “Oh, sure, I remember that! The sales assistant was flirting with you?”

  He looked surprised. “She was?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you remember, she was asking you if you were a pilot from Miramar?”

  Sebastian shook his head, amused and puzzled at the same time.

  “Well, I’m not surprised,” I said, smiling to myself, “in those days you never used to notice other women flirting with you: you were such an innocent. Not like now.”

  “Hell, you should complain, Caro! You were the one I lost my innocence to—a hot, older woman.”

  I slapped his arm. “You know what I mean.”

  His look of amusement faded and he caught my hand, pulling me down, until I was sitting across his knee.

  “Caro, you’re all I want. You don’t have to worry about other women. Yeah, so I fucked around a lot, but you know what? It was just a game—I was using them, they were using me. It gets pretty old after a while.” He paused to tuck my hair behind my ear and kiss my throat. “But I might have to hunt down those old boyfriends of yours and beat them to a pulp.”

  I laughed. “Double standards, Sebastian?”

  “Nope, just two sets of rules … but I was thinking about the cute, black dress you bought. You looked so fucking hot in that.”

  “I’ve still got it somewhere, although I haven’t worn it in years.”

  “We should do that, Caro; go out somewhere you can dress up.”

  I sighed. “I used to fantasize about seeing you in a tux.”

  “Really?”

  “Sebastian, I spent far too many hours fantasizing about you in a variety of, um, situations. And just recently, it’s become my new hobby.”

  He laughed, delightedly. “I’ve never worn a tux.”

  “Never? Not even at your high school prom?”

  “I didn’t go. I hadn’t met you again, and I’d split up with Brenda. Ches didn’t have a date either—he swiped some of Mitch’s beer, I scored some weed—and we got trashed on the beach instead. It was a pretty good night—I think. I don’t remember that much about it. We didn’t need any women,” he said, looking at me with a sly expression. “But that was before I met you again.”

  “Hmm, very virtuous of you. But didn’t you wear a tux for Ches and Amy’s wedding?”

  “Nah, Amy kind of got off on the whole military thing, even though she didn’t want Ches enlisting, so she asked me and Mitch to come in our Dress Blues. I don’t know, I think she thought it would look cool in the wedding pictures.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “She turned into a complete nightmare-bitch-from-hell over the whole wedding thing. Ches was freaking out, thinking he was about to marry some crazy person. She even tried to ban him from having a bachelor party,” he said, indignantly.

  “Gee, I wonder why … maybe she didn’t trust you,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

  He grinned at me, wickedly.

  “Yeah, well, she was probably right about that…”

  “I don’t want to know, Sebastian!”

  He kissed me again. “So what do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “Going somewhere upscale, really dressing up? I’d love to see you like that again.”

  “Well, okay. Let’s do that when you get back from this tour. Then we can really celebrate.”

  “Let’s do it now,” he said, decisively. “There must be some place in Salerno you can get women’s stuff.”

  “Stuff?!”

  “Yeah, silky dress, stockings, high heels … stuff. And then I could undress you—slowly.”

  His eyes heated at the thought, and my heart skipped a beat.

  “Okay, I’ll do it if you do—dress up.”

  He laughed. “Sure, if I can find somewhere that will rent me a tux, why not? It’ll make a change from being in uniform.”

  Then he kissed me quickly, scooped me off his lap and set me back on the floor.

  “We’d better get going. Got me a date planned with a really hot woman.”

  Instead of traveling along the pretty coast road, Sebastian headed inland for the Autostrada del Sole, the highway that ran from Milan to Naples. It was terrifyingly busy, with huge trucks roaring too close to us, but the route was designed to get us to Salerno in the least amount of time. I clung on and gritted my teeth.

  We stopped briefly just outside of Rome, at a café on the highway where they produced fresh pasta to restaurant standards, then carried on south, past Naples and on to our final destination.

  Sebastian finally pulled up at the curb when we ran out of road. Behind us, the small town of Salerno clung to the cliffs, the buildings square and white with terracotta roofs, and glistening below them, the Mediterranean was azure in the afternoon sunshine.

  He pulled off his helmet and stretched out his back before climbing off. I felt as if the bike was still in motion, and my ass had been molded into the shape of the saddle.

  Sebastian grinned at me, then helped me take off my helmet. It was as if I’d been underwater and I could finally hear properly again.

  “You all right, baby?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “How are you?”

  “Yeah, good. Look, I think it might be easier to find a pensione or hotel in Salerno than in your dad’s village. We’re only a couple of miles away so we could easily shoot on over there in the morning. What do you think?”

  “Anything that doesn’t involve getting back on your bike sounds good, Sebastian,” I grimaced. “My ass is numb already.”

  He pulled me into a hug, and rubbed his hands over the portion in question.

  “Better, baby?”

  “Mmm, much.”

  He kissed me lightly. “Come on then, let’s walk for a while. We’ll find a room—and a pharmacy.”

  “Good to see you’ve got your priorities in order, Sebastian.”

  “Trained by the Marines, baby, what can I say?”

  We strolled through the
sunlit streets, listening to the rumble of local traffic, which seemed to consist of crazy drivers in beaten up cars, and teenagers on scooters buzzing around. Everywhere, people chatted, gossiped, talked, yelled and waved their hands in the air, animated conversations surrounding us. It reminded me of Papa when he got excited, and I could imagine him as a child running down the hill from the village, and climbing back in the evening, dusty, tired and happy.

  Sebastian slung his arm around my shoulders with casual possession, and I let my fingers creep around his waist.

  It was too warm to wear the leather biker jackets for long, so we found a small pavement café and gratefully sat, relaxing in the sun.

  “I could really use a beer,” said Sebastian.

  I wasn’t sure if he was just commenting or asking my permission. Either way, I had something else in mind.

  “This is the home of limoncello, Sebastian, the real thing—made with Sorrento lemons. I think we should try some.”

  “Yeah!” he said, enthusiastically. “You used to make those amazing ones when I was a kid.” He frowned, and I knew what he was thinking—he didn’t like to be reminded of our age difference either.

  I shrugged. “Sure, but these are alcoholic.” I glanced at him sideways and smiled. “We could order them with a pitcher of water, too.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  The young waiter slouched over, seemingly unconcerned as to whether or not he would serve us. But when I spoke to him in Italian, he seemed to cheer up slightly, his demeanor a fraction less surly.

  “And would you know of anywhere we could rent a room for a couple of nights—nothing too expensive?” I asked, with a smile.

  “My uncle might,” he acknowledged, surprising me with a friendly grin. “I’ll go and ask him.”

  When I glanced over at Sebastian, he was scowling at me.

  “You didn’t have to flirt with him, Caro,” he spat out.

  I stared at him, utterly astonished.

  “Excuse me? Flirt with him? I was being friendly, that’s all.”

  “Well, it didn’t look like that from here,” he said, obviously angry.

  I shook my head in amazement. “Rule number three, Sebastian, of my conditions for coming on this road trip with you: no displays of adolescent jealousy. Remember?”

  He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

  Oh, great—sulky Sebastian. I should have added that to my list.

  Our waiter returned with the limoncellos, water, and an older man with jet black hair and dark olive skin.

  “My nephew tells me you’re looking for a room. For how long?”

  “Just a couple of nights. Somewhere in town—nothing too upscale—although somewhere with a bath would be great. We’ve been on our motorcycle all day.”

  “I have just the thing,” he said, happily. “My mother-in-law’s sister’s neighbor rents rooms. Her villa overlooks the sea—very pretty rooms. Only €50 a night. I could call her for you, if you like?”

  “Thanks,” said Sebastian, deciding to take charge. “We’ll take a look.”

  The waiter’s uncle—Aberto—soon returned, smiling.

  “You’re in luck, signore, signora. She has a room available. I’ve written the address down for you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, “that’s very kind of you.”

  He nodded and turned to leave.

  “Aberto, can I ask you something else? My father was from Capezzano Inferiore. He left many years ago, but I was wondering, do you know anyone with the surname of ‘Venzi’?”

  I held my breath as he scratched his head.

  “No, I’m sorry, signora, I don’t know that name. I could look in the phone book for you?”

  “Thank you. That would be so helpful.”

  Sebastian held my hand while we waited for Aberto to return.

  “Ah, I’m sorry, signora,” he said, “there’s no one with that surname in the town—some in the province, but none within 70km.”

  I breathed out slowly, feeling everything deflate inside me. How ridiculous. I’d allowed my hopes to get blown out of proportion.

  “Thank you for looking, Aberto.”

  He nodded, and walked away.

  “Sorry, baby,” murmured Sebastian. “I know you had gotten your hopes up.”

  “I was just being stupid. I just wanted … I just hoped I’d find some family.”

  He kissed my hand gently.

  “Hey, I get that. I know what it’s like.”

  “I never even asked you, Sebastian, but do you have grandparents? You never mentioned any.”

  He shrugged. “No, not really. Mom’s parents died when I was a kid; Dad never spoke to his. Big surprise. I don’t even know where they live.”

  “And you’ve never wanted to find out?”

  “I thought about it once. Anyway, I’m not sure I’d want to find anyone who was related to that bastard. Besides, they never showed any interest in me … it made me wonder if the bastard was really my dad. I dunno…” he shrugged. “Ches and his kids, Mitch and Shirley—they’re my family.”

  “And Amy,” I said, teasing him gently.

  He groaned. “Yeah, and she’s thrilled about that.”

  “Well, she’ll be much happier when we show her the new, improved Sebastian Hunter. I could tell her that I’ve tamed you.”

  He gave me a knowing look. “You’re treading on dangerous ground there, Venzi.”

  I sat back and smiled at him. “You’re so masterful when you talk like that, Sebastian.”

  He leaned forward and stared at me. “Yeah, well, if we can find a fucking pharmacy, you’ll find out just how ‘masterful’ I can be.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  We sipped our limoncellos and drank some water, as we watched the world go by: yachts and fishing boats in the harbor; scooters, bikes and cars; people of all ages, strolling, chatting, enjoying the afternoon sunshine.

  “You know what we should do, Caro?” said Sebastian, stretching his arms above his head. “We should drive up to Amalfi. The coast road has some gnarly mean bends—see what the bike can really do. There should be some great views, too.”

  I swallowed hastily. I could just imagine Sebastian tearing up the mountainside, and carving his way around another terrifying set of hairpin turns.

  “That sounds fun,” I said, trying to restrain the quaver in my voice.

  I didn’t fool him at all, and Sebastian laughed out loud. “That’s my girl!”

  After we’d paid Aberto, we wandered through the town, on the lookout for Via Roma, which turned out to be a wide avenue running alongside the harbor.

  To Sebastian’s delight, we also found a pharmacy, where he purchased two boxes of 12 condoms, much to my embarrassment and the amusement of the elderly woman serving him. I think she may have given me a sympathetic glance, too.

  I felt a little lightheaded when I did the math: 24 condoms; three nights.

  But I also found cheap mascara and a dark cherry lipstick.

  “Looking forward to tasting that lipstick on you later,” whispered Sebastian.

  “Looking forward to tasting you later,” I whispered back, which earned me a very hot look.

  Signora Carello’s villa was a small but pretty, whitewashed building overlooking the sea, as promised.

  I’d expected another well-built motherly type, but the Signora was a bone-thin racehorse of a woman, perhaps 70 years of age, with swept-up black hair and immaculate taste in clothes.

  “Ah, the young travelers Aberto mentioned. Welcome to my home. Please, come in. Let me show you the room.”

  She led us up a flight of shallow steps that looked like they could have been carved out of marble, or some other polished, creamy stone—and opened the door into a beautiful, dreamlike room.

  A large, white bed dominated, with fronds of net curtains hanging down, and a wardrobe that was Oriental style, made from a wicker material. The balcony doors were open, and the cu
rtains drifted on the breeze, brushing across a small mosaic table with two matching chairs.

  “Oh, this is just lovely!”

  “Thank you, signora,” she said, obviously pleased by my reaction.

  “Actually, it’s signorina,” I said, not wishing to mislead this charming woman.

  “I’m working on that,” said Sebastian, challengingly, and I saw Signora Carello try to hide a smile.

  “The bagno is on the right,” she said, gesturing elegantly toward a white door.

  The bathroom was plain and white, but, joy of joys, it had a gigantic enamel tub in the center of the room, as well as a small shower in the corner.

  I clapped my hands together and grinned at Sebastian.

  “We have a motorcycle,” he said, smiling at my obvious happiness. “Do you have somewhere I could park it overnight?”

  “Oh, I used to enjoy riding on a motorcycle in my day!” she said. “Oh, yes, young man … I was quite fast in my youth.”

  And Sebastian blushed. He actually blushed. I hadn’t seen him do that in ten years. I was almost jealous of Signora Carello.

  She smiled pleasantly at him and when she looked at me, she winked. I grinned back. Oh, I liked this woman.

  “I’ll go and get the bike,” he muttered.

  “Sebastian, would you mind if I stay here and take a bath?”

  “No, that’s fine, Caro,” he said, suddenly brightening up. “I’ll see you later.”

  Hmm, what was on that tricky Hunter mind now?

  I shrugged and left him to walk back down the stairs, chatting animatedly to the signora.

  I was delighted to see that two enormous, fluffy, white towels had been laid out for our use. I started running the water immediately and peeled off my sticky clothes, enjoying the cool stone of the bathroom floor beneath my bare feet.

  I ran the water as hot as I could stand it, then climbed in, luxuriating in the sensation. I wished Sebastian was there to share the moment—and to scrub my back—but it was rather wonderful to stretch out, too.

  I lathered my hair, using shampoo that smelled like lemons, from the small pot that the signora left out for us, and then wallowed for a good half an hour. By which time, the water had cooled, but Sebastian still hadn’t returned. I let the water drain away and wrapped myself in the huge towel and boldly sat out on the balcony, enjoying the late afternoon sun.