The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (65 page)

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 curtains
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.

I heard the mean machine before I saw it. I watched Sebastian drive along the street and stop at the villa’s entrance, before cutting the engine and pushing it around to the yard at the back. I wondered what on earth he’d been doing; he’d been gone ages.

I heard him running up the stairs and I called out to him.

“You missed a great bath. I’ve been sitting here enjoying the view—naked, except for a towel.”

He walked up behind me and kissed my damp hair.

“You’ve been gone ages; I was beginning to think you got lost.”

“Had some business to take care of, baby.”

I twisted around to look at him. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Come on, Hunter, spill. What business?”

Sebastian grinned and bit his lip, but I knew he was dying to tell me. It took about three seconds before he caved.

“Signora Carello told me somewhere I can rent a tux, so it’s game on for tomorrow night. We’re going upscale, baby.”

“Really?” I said, excitedly. “Where?”

He grinned down at me. “Can’t tell you. Not even if you torture me.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I think it can be arranged, Sebastian.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He picked me up out of the chair and carried me into the bedroom. I fastened my arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.

“Ugh, you’re all sweaty!” I complained.

“Yeah? Any objections if I get you all sweaty, too?”

“None whatsoever.”

And those were almost the last words we spoke for the next two hours, although I may have moaned his name several times. We got through three condoms and had seven orgasms between us.

I was a wreck, and I had no one but myself to blame. All my teasing and taunts had had quite an effect on the Chief. It was time to pay or play: I did both.

“Oh my God, I can’t move!” I gasped.

“Fuck!” said Sebastian, who was somewhat less loquacious than usual.

I lay there panting for several more minutes. I felt the bed move, but I was too exhausted to open my eyes.

“I know you’re looking at me, Sebastian,” I grumbled, “but whatever you have in mind you can just forget it. I admit it all: you’re an animal in bed, and I will never, ever question your virility again.”

He laughed softly.

“You can question it as often as you like, baby, because that just means I have to prove it to you.”

He dragged the sheet over us, and pulled me into his arms, where I flopped unattractively.

“Do you want to go find something to eat?” he said.

“Go? As in, leave the room? No, no. Bad, bad idea. Call takeout.”

“I don’t think they deliver to naked people in hotel rooms, Caro.”

I groaned.

“Come on, baby, time to get up.”

“I can’t,” I whined.

He left me lying in bed while he showered; I was nearly asleep by the time he returned. I heard him moving around the room, dressing and pulling on a pair of sneakers instead of his biker boots.

He sat on the bed next to me, and I realized he was holding my pink t-shirt in his hands.

“Not your color, Sebastian,” I mumbled.

“No, baby. I want you to wear it.”

“Why?”

“You look cute in pink.”

Oh!

“And I got you something while I was out.”

I sat up, ignoring several aching muscles.

“You got me something?”

I could hear the excitement in his voice, and he handed me a shopping bag from a woman’s clothing store.

“You bought me clothes?”

“Just look in the goddam bag, Caro!”

I reached in and my hands fastened around a small piece of folded cloth: black with a design of tiny, pink flowers embroidered along one edge. It was a skirt; a miniskirt; a
very short
miniskirt.

I was astounded. Was this how he saw me? Barely-there bikinis and micro-miniskirts? These were the clothes a twenty-year old would wear; they weren’t right for me. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part.

“Don’t you like it?” he said, sounding hurt.

“Sebastian, I … it’s very pretty, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s not really me. I’m more a jeans and t-shirt sort of person these days. Besides, I don’t have any shoes—I’ve only got my walking boots.”

He smiled, and pulled another bag out from under the bed.

Inside was a pair of soft, black leather ballerina flats. And in my size.

“Do you like them?” he said, anxiously.

I slipped them on my bare feet and held them out for him to look at.

“So, you’ll wear the skirt?” he said, hopefully.

It seemed a small thing to do to make him happy.

“Yes, tesoro, I’ll wear the skirt.”

I carried my new outfit into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I was horribly
afraid I’d look like mutton dressed as lamb. Did all women with younger men feel like that? Like they had to dress to match the age of their boyfriend?