I pulled up at a convenience store and we both jumped out, racing each other to the stand of newspapers, suddenly light-hearted.
I tore open a copy of the paper, my heart beating rapidly with excitement. I didn’t have to look far—my article was printed on page five with a huge photograph of Sebastian, Mitch, Bill, Ches and Fido.
I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I stared at the photograph of Sebastian. In the picture his sun-lightened hair was still long, and he looked the epitome of young and carefree. I’d taken it just a few hours before his father brutally hacked off his hair; and a few hours after that we had slept together for the first time. But I also felt a great welling up of pride—seeing my article in print with my name beneath it was the first real sense of achievement I’d had since getting my degree at night school three years ago.
“They’ve spelled your name wrong,” said Sebastian frowning.
I scanned the page quickly. “Where?”
“There,” he said, pointing at the small, bold type under the heading.
“No, that’s correct,” I said, looking at him puzzled.
“Your name is ‘Carolina’, not ‘Caroline’?”
“Carolina is the Italian,” I said softly, emphasizing the long vowel in the middle. “David—and my mother—preferred the Anglicized version, but the name on my birth certificate is Carolina Maria.”
I couldn’t help noticing that Sebastian’s lips were pressed tightly together and his knuckles where he gripped the newspaper had turned white.
“Why are you so upset?” I asked hesitantly.
Sebastian took a deep breath.
“That bastard has taken everything from you,” he growled, “even your name!”
I sighed.
“That’s not really true, Sebastian. Everything he’s done, I’ve let him do. Look, this isn’t really the place to have this conversation—let me just buy the papers and we’ll go. Please.”
Sebastian waited outside while I paid for six copies.
When I came out with my newspapers tucked under one arm, he was leaning against the brick wall with his eyes closed. I gazed at him anxiously.
He opened his eyes and looked down at me, forcing a smile.
“Come on, let’s go celebrate your first article, Ms Reporter!”
I smiled back, relieved that he was attempting to lift his mood.
“We’ve got something else to celebrate. David is going away to a medical symposium. He leaves Friday night and doesn’t get back until Sunday evening.”
A huge and genuine smile spread across Sebastian’s face. “Two nights?!”
I couldn’t help laughing at his obvious happiness.
Without warning, he pulled me into his arms, hugging me to his chest. My free arm wrapped around his neck and I pulled his head down. His lips were warm and soft, his kiss gentle and sweet. Then I felt his lips part and his tongue swept into my mouth. I shivered with desire and I could feel his growing arousal through his jeans.
I tried to remember that we were in public; reluctantly I pushed him away from me.
“Let’s go to a hotel … like you said.”
His voice was low and rough and he rubbed his hands over his short hair, with evident frustration. But before I could answer, I heard someone calling his name.
My head swiveled to see Ches walking toward us and my cheeks flushed with guilt. How much had he seen?
“Hey, man! What’s up? Hi, Mrs. Wilson.”
I tried to smile. “Hello, Ches. And please call me Caroline. I’m sorry about last night—I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”
He frowned slightly then laughed it off. “Nah, you didn’t. It’s cool.”
Then he turned to Sebastian, a puzzled look on his face, his eyes flitting between us.
“Caroline’s article has been published,” said Sebastian, pointing at the pile of newspapers still tucked under my left arm.
“I was going to deliver them,” I said smiling more naturally, “but now you’re both here.”
I handed a copy to Ches and another to Sebastian.
“Awesome!” said Ches. “Dad is going to be stoked when he sees this!”
“I’ve bought copies for Bill and Fido, too. Can you get these to them for me?” I handed the spare copies to Ches. “By the way, what is Fido’s real name?”
Ches laughed. “It’s Arnold. But don’t use it, because he won’t answer, and it’ll just make him want to break my face if he finds out that I’ve told you.”
His attention returned to Sebastian. “So what you doing, man? I’m going to take off and get a surf in before work—they’ll probably want us to start early anyway because they’re still short-staffed—whatever, it’s more gas money for the van. You want to check out some waves or are you busy again?”
There was a brief, uncomfortable pause.
“Well, you guys have fun,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ve got some errands to run.”
“Are you going to the club later?” said Sebastian, a little too quickly.
I saw Ches’s eyes flicker over to him.
“Oh … I don’t know. I’m not a member yet, although Donna Vorstadt suggested we might go there for coffee, but I’m not sure if that was supposed to be today or tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see you both later. Ciao.”
I tried to convey a message with my careful words but it was hard to tell if it had got through: Sebastian looked pretty pissed off.
I walked away with my copy of City Beat under one arm while my stomach played hopscotch.
I felt bereft: I’d counted on a few hours with Sebastian and they’d been ripped away. But I wasn’t going to waste my time either: not any more.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number for City Beat.
“Hi, this is Caroline Wilson. Could I speak to Carl Winters, please?”
I was put on hold for a few seconds before I heard the editor’s voice.
“Hi, Carolina, how are you?”
He pronounced my name the Italian way—just like in my article.
“Good, thank you, Mr. Winters. I wanted to say that I thought the article looked really great. Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity.”
“Not at all, and please, call me Carl. I was going to call you. Do you have something for the next issue?”
“Yes, I do. I have 1500 words on the work of the Base hospital and I’ve nearly finished one on military families and what it means to them to move around a lot. That might be a little longer, if it’s okay. I’ve got some interviews with other wives set up for that.”
“Excellent! Can you email them to me or, better still, can you come on in? It would be really good to meet you in person.”
I made a quick decision.
“I’m free now. I could be there in thirty minutes?”
“Great! I’ll look forward to it, Carolina.”
Next I phoned Donna.
“Hi, Donna, it’s Caroline.”
“Hi! How are you?”
“I’m good. I just wanted to thank you for last night. It was … very pleasant.”
She chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Johan was very taken with your dress—I think I should be jealous.”
I laughed a little uncomfortably. “I was wondering if you and Shirley were free for coffee later today after all?”
She sounded surprised. “I’m free, but I’d have to check with Shirley.”
“It’s just I have a meeting with the City Beat editor now and it would be great to be able to tell him that I have another article almost ready.”
“Wow! That’s great! Good for you, Caroline. Look, let me call Shirley and I’ll get back to you.”
The offices of City Beat were housed in an orange-stucco, art deco building a couple of blocks from Lincoln Avenue. I managed to park nearby and hurried in with my laptop and notebook. I’d decided to show Carl some of my photographs of Base life. I knew they were pretty amateurish but there were three or four that I thought had come out well.
/> As I was walking into reception I heard my phone beep. There was a text from Donna arranging coffee at the country club and two missed calls from Sebastian.
I texted him back quickly.
* Hi mtg at City Beat. Very exciting. Will meet Donna
and Shirley at cc 3 pm. Hope 2 cu. But wkend just for us *
I turned my phone off quickly and introduced myself to the cheerful receptionist.
Carl Winters was much younger than I’d expected—in fact he was probably only a couple of years older than me. Here he was running a whole newspaper in a major city. It made me feel inadequate. But he was friendly and seemed to go out of his way to put me at my ease.
“It’s nice to meet you at last, Carolina,” he said shaking hands. “We’ve had some really good feedback already on the article. What else have you got for me?”
I opened my ancient laptop and while it was slowly cycling through its warm up, Carl started asking me questions about myself. I’d answered three or four before it occurred to me that I was being interviewed.
“How long have you been a military wife?”
“Eleven years.”
“Eleven! You must have been a child bride.”
“Well, not quite, but pretty young I suppose. I know that’s not in fashion these days, although you find it more among the military, I guess.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Rules!” I said, laughing lightly. “If you want to be able to follow your spouse around the country, you have to be married first. Or, if you want to live in sin, you have to live off base.”
“It’s quite different to civilian life, isn’t it,” he said thoughtfully.
“In all sorts of ways, big and small,” I agreed.
I showed him the article on the Base hospital and he nodded as he read through it, which I took to be a good sign. Then I showed him my photographs.
“These are really good,” he said, sounding surprised. “You didn’t say you were a photographer.”
“I’m not. I mean, I enjoy taking pictures, but I’ve no training. I just use my dad’s old SLR. It’s not even digital—I have to get the films processed at the drugstore.”
“Well, they’re really good: they definitely capture that sense of … organized chaos, I guess. Well, Carolina, if we’re going to use your photos, too, there’ll be an additional fee for you: $450 for an article and photo. How does that sound?”
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
He glanced at his watch.
“I’m going to head out and get some lunch now. Maybe if you’re not busy I could buy you a sandwich and a coffee?”
“Oh! That’s very kind of you, Carl, but I’ve set up interviews with a couple of wives from the Base and, as I’m sure you’d guess, none of us do ‘late’.”
He laughed but looked a little disappointed. “Another time then?”
I smiled without answering, thanked him again, and left. He’d seemed very friendly. I hoped that’s all it was.
Despite that slight awkwardness, I was walking on air, thrilled with the response to my articles and with a new sense of purpose. For a few brief moments, I allowed myself to be happy and in love.
Driving out to the country club, I ran through the questions I wanted to ask of Donna and Shirley. Carl Daniel’s assessment of my work had given me confidence—newborn and weak, but it was confidence—of a sort.
I parked around the back, as before. It was only two o’clock and I hoped, really hoped, that I’d be able to snatch a few, private moments.
* Am at cc *
I sat for a minute but there was no reply. I didn’t even know if Sebastian was allowed to carry his phone while he was working. I’d just have to be patient.
At reception I handed in a completed membership form and a check, signed by David, for our first month’s membership. David had felt that last night’s dinner had gone well—he seemed to be oblivious to how much he’d annoyed Johan and Donna. Empathy was not one of my husband’s qualities. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
I changed into my bikini and headed out to the pool with my notebook, sketching out some more ideas and refining my questions. I was so absorbed in my work—my work, not my hobby—that it was several moments before I realized that someone was standing over me.
“Your mineral water, ma’am.”
I looked up to see Sebastian smiling down at me.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi, yourself. Meet me in the women’s locker room in five minutes. There’s a door at the back that says ‘Private’. I’ll be waiting.”
My mouth was still hanging open as he walked away, desire shooting through my body. I took a sip from the frosted glass and stood up as casually as possible on shaky legs.
The locker room was mercifully empty. I made my way to the back, glancing over my shoulder every other second, my heart rate accelerating with every step.
I pushed open the door marked ‘Private’ and peered into the gloom of a large storage closet. I gasped when Sebastian’s hands pulled me inside.
He didn’t speak, not with words.
His lips burned on mine and I felt his hands everywhere, drinking me in, pulling me in, heating my blood.
I ran my hands down his chest and then around to his back, pushing them up under his t-shirt to feel his taut muscles and the warm, smooth texture of his skin beneath my fingertips.
He gripped my hair jerking my head back, running his teeth across my neck. I don’t know if it was the dark, or the confined space, or the sense of danger, but Sebastian’s movements were more confident, more assured than ever before, and I was swept away.
I felt the straps of my bikini top suddenly loosen, the thin fabric falling away. His mouth moved from my neck, across my chest and then he ran his tongue between the valley of my breasts and down to my stomach, where he knelt.
He hooked his fingers into my bikini bottoms and tugged them down. I stood naked before him in the dim light while, in his own way, he worshipped my body.
He stood up slowly, kissing me all the way.
I gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles bunch under my hands as pleasure shot through me. I tugged on the material of his t-shirt, desperate to connect flesh with flesh. He stood quickly and pulled it over his head then crushed me to his chest and kissed me with increasing urgency. I had never felt so desired, never wanted a man as much as I wanted Sebastian at that moment.
He pressed himself into me and I knew that he was as aroused as I was.
My fingers scrabbled at the front of his shorts and I heard his soft gasp. With one, swift movement I pushed his briefs off his hips and reached down to grip him in my hands.
He groaned again then abruptly brushed my hands away. He bent down and pulled out a condom packet from his shorts. The sound of the foil tearing seemed so loud, I half expected someone to bang on the door and demand to know what we were doing.
Sebastian straightened up and fastened his hands on my hips, lifting me up suddenly. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he thrust into me, making me cry out. I clung onto his shoulders as he pushed me back against the wall, moving hard and fast, his face buried in my neck, his breathing becoming ragged.
Behind my bare back, I felt the doors of a cupboard. The contents rattled alarmingly as Sebastian pounded into me.
The rawness and urgency of our love-making pushed me over the edge and I climaxed around him, made breathless by the extraordinary turn of events. Four minutes ago I had been working quietly by the pool.
I felt Sebastian slam into me one last time and he cried out softly then sank to the floor with me cradled on his lap.
I stroked his face in the dark. I thought I felt tears on his face but I couldn’t be sure.
I laid my hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart slowly return to normal.
“I love you,” he breathed, placing gentle, loving kisses on my lips. “I love you so much.”
We lay there for some minut
es, cocooned by the dim light creeping through the cracks around the door.
“You have to get back to work,” I said softly.
He sighed. “I know.”
“We have the whole weekend to look forward to.”
“I have to work all day Friday and Saturday,” he said sadly.
“The nights are still ours.”
“All night.”
“Yes.”
I felt his lips turn upwards in a smile and he kissed me.
I slid off him, wincing slightly. I’d enjoyed his aggressive love-making, more than enjoyed, but I was feeling a little sore. I didn’t care: it was a small price to pay.
We both had to scrabble around in the dark to find our clothes. I couldn’t help laughing to myself—there certainly wasn’t much dignity in it, but damn, it was hot!
We listened carefully at the door but at that time of the day the locker room was still empty. I don’t know what we’d have done if it had been busy—we could have been stuck there for hours! Hmm, that didn’t sound so bad.
Sebastian quickly pressed his lips to mine then snuck out first. He looked his usual, handsome self, although perhaps a little more flushed than usual.
I, on the other hand, looked as if I’d just had rough sex up against a cupboard door in the dark. I stared in the mirror at my reddened face, neck, chest and back, and at my once neat ponytail which was lopsided with half my hair coming loose.
I spent a few minutes splashing myself with cold water, trying to return my skin to its usual olive tones, and combed my hair out with my fingers. Eventually I felt composed enough to leave the locker room. As I walked back to the pool, I imagined that everyone I saw knew exactly what I’d been doing. I felt as if I had a sign pointing at me shouting ‘Locker-room Slut!’.
I slid onto my sun lounger and gratefully took a long drink of my mineral water. I picked up my notebook and pencil and tried to concentrate but my thoughts were well and truly scattered. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. It had been so intense and exciting and so completely out of character for me. Although I wasn’t entirely sure what my character was anymore. I’d meant it when I’d told Sebastian that it wasn’t David’s fault; that I’d let him take control and allowed him to take away the essence of being me. I’d been a sleepwalker through my marriage: we both deserved better—David as well as me.