The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline

  Sebastian thanked her beautifully for her delicious breakfast, telling her that he’d never enjoyed a pensione more. Then he kissed her hand, and the stout widow blushed.

  “You are so smooth, Hunter!” I scolded him as we headed out to get the bike.

  “I was just telling her the truth,” he said. “I think we should come back here, and book the same room every year—then spend the night fucking.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Yeah, I know, baby.”

  Sebastian’s motorcycle had survived the night. I pulled on the now familiar black helmet and settled myself onto the seat, enjoying the comforting smell of old leather, with my thighs pressed into Sebastian. I’d almost go so far as to say I felt comfortable—although a car with a roof and doors also had a lot to be said for it. Hmm, hot, steamy car-sex with Sebastian. On the other hand, now beds had been invented…

  We headed out of town and southeast along the coastal road, burning out of Pisa and racing into the sun.

  I wrapped my arms around Sebastian’s waist and thought what a difference a day can make. Yesterday, I’d been unhappy and abandoned. Today … well, it was the start of the rest of my life.

  The campsite I’d found was just an hour from Pisa, outside the village of Polveroni. The Mediterranean stretched before us and the sun heated the sea gently. Better still, from Sebastian’s perspective, long breakers rolled in, providing perfectly rideable waves of between three and four feet.

  His eyes lit up at the surf barreling up the beach, and just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, we saw a shop with boards to rent.

  “Game on!” he said to himself.

  We parked the mean machine and Sebastian practically sprinted inside, talking animatedly with the owner. He returned a few minutes later with a battered longboard, a huge beach towel, and a pair of garish board shorts.

  “Hey, Chief! You’re in danger of doing color!” I teased him.

  He smirked at me. “Yeah, well, it was all they had. Either that or I’d have to do it in the nude. What do you think, Caro, naked surfing?”

  “It could catch on, or you could get arrested. But I’m telling you, Sebastian, if you do get arrested and I don’t get laid tonight, I’m going to be mighty pissed at you.”

  He laughed delightedly.

  “Now you’re talking. By the way, the guy in the shop said that he rents out rooms. He said it’s pretty basic—just a big, old bed and a small bathroom. But I thought it would be kind of cool to be able to hear the sea tonight. Is that okay?”

  “Very okay.”

  He grinned at me, but his smile slipped away as he gazed in horror at the sensible, navy-blue one-piece that I was holding in my hands. It was the swimsuit that I usually wore to the public pool.

  “Wait,” said Sebastian, “that’s what you’re going to wear?”

  “Yes, why?”

  I stared at him, utterly baffled.

  “Stay here.”

  He strode off back toward the beach shop. He returned a few minutes later with a tiny bit of string and a few triangles of material and handed it to me.

  “Here. Wear this.”

  I held out the skimpy bikini. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was barely big enough to cover my nipples, let alone anything else.

  “I can’t wear that, Sebastian, there’s nothing to it! I’m forty, not twenty!”

  “You’ll look amazing, Caro. I want every guy on the beach to know how hot my woman is.”

  “I may as well go topless!”

  His eyes heated, and a licentious expression appeared on his face. “Yeah, baby.”

  I shook my head at him. “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy in love,” he said, scooping me into a kiss that made my bones rattle.

  “Fine, I’ll wear it,” I said, breathlessly.

  He gave me a dark look that said I damn well would.

  Jeez, he could be so bossy. Why was that hot?

  Sebastian held up the beach towel to cover my modesty while I changed into the tiny bikini. Although ‘modesty’ and ‘tiny bikini’ in the same sentence didn’t really seem to be a good fit. A bit like the bikini. Whichever way I tugged it, more flesh than seemed acceptable was exposed.

  “I can’t wait to take that off you,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Sex or surfing, Sebastian?”

  “Sex,” he said, at once.

  I laughed, even as my body overheated.

  “Well, you’ll have to take a rain check—we haven’t booked that room for the night yet. And I’ve warned you what will happen if you get arrested.”

  He smirked at me.

  “You owe me a lot of rain checks, Caro. I’m going to enjoy cashing them in.”

  He didn’t bother using the towel when he changed into his board shorts—he just dropped his pants and briefs right out there in the open.

  “Sebastian!” I muttered, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

  He’d already pulled on the garish board shorts by the time my eyes flickered back to him. He laughed at my surprised expression.

  “Years of practice changing out of my wetsuit in windswept parking lots along Sunset Cliffs, Caro,” he said. “I’ll show you how quick I can get out of my clothes now if you like?”

  “Go. Surf.”

  “Here—look after these for me.”

  He pulled off his dog tags and placed them around my neck, where the small metal tags nestled between my breasts. He stood back for a moment.

  “Those look hot on you, Caro. Really fucking hot.”

  He scooped me up in a ridiculous Hollywood kiss, dipping me so low, my hair was touching the sand, then he put me back on my feet. I was still off balance as he ran down to the water.

  I loved to watch him surf: it brought back many good memories of our time in San Diego. There had been too few from that turbulent summer, but being on the beach with Sebastian, watching him in the waves, those had been happy times. He was so graceful out there, charging down the glassy, green surfaces; diving through the foam.

  I’d taken my camera with me, so I zoomed in and snapped some photographs of Sebastian surfing. I had a pretty decent lens, and I got some really good close-ups of him in action.

  Hmm, photographs of Sebastian in action, now there was a thought to warm a cold winter night.

  I lay back on our beach towel, relaxed and filled with a quiet happiness. Once again my life had swung across the pendulum from bitterness and despair to an overwhelming sense of love and being loved. And this time I would allow myself to believe in it.

  The warmth of the sun was pleasant, adding to my sense of peaceful well-being. It wasn’t really hot, maybe a balmy 68oF or 69oF. Enough to be relaxing: not enough to worry about getting burned.

  Suddenly I realized someone was standing over me.

  “Buon giorno!”

  An attractive man about my own age was smiling down at me.

  “Ciao?” I replied.

  I sat up, wondering what he wanted.

  “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said, in Italian.

  “Yes,” I agreed, rather puzzled.

  “It looks like you’re enjoying the sun.”

  Oh crap! He was hitting on me. Was he hitting on me?

  “Um, yes. It’s very pleasant.”

  “Are you here on vacation?”

  “Yes, we are,” I replied with the faintest emphasis on the plural.

  “Ah,” he said, looking around him for my absent companion.

  “My boyfriend is surfing,” I explained, with a small smile.

  “Then he will be having some good rides,” replied my new friend, who then winked at me and ambled away.

  I could see Sebastian jogging up the beach to join me.

  “What did he want?” he said, looking none too pleased.

  “Don’t blame me, Chief,” I said, raising one eyebrow, “You’re the one who bought this itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini for me. Anyway, I t
old him my boyfriend was surfing, so you don’t need to worry.”

  Sebastian scowled.

  Oh boy, talk about double standards.

  “Did you have fun?” I said, trying not to laugh at him.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, looking in the direction where my ‘friend’ had vanished, “not bad. Got some good rides.”

  “I know, I was watching.” I pointed to the camera, “I got some great shots, too.”

  “Really?” he sounded delighted, and turned his full attention to me. “I’ve never seen any pictures of me surfing.”

  My heart gave a quick, unhappy flop. My poor boy had never had parents who cared that he was good at something.

  He sat down on the towel next to me, his skin glistening with drops of seawater. Trying not to get distracted, I showed him the shots I’d caught, and he raised his eyebrows.

  “Wow! You’re a really good photographer, Caro.”

  “I have excellent subject material,” I said, then snapped a close-up of his exquisite face and chest.

  “What’s that for?” he said, blinking in surprise.

  “Just so I know you’re real,” I told him. “I think you’re a figment of my overwrought imagination, and you might disappear when I wake up. But now,” I said, waving the camera at him, “I have proof.”

  He grinned and shook his head, as if I was a little bit crazy. Which I was. Like he’d said: crazy in love.

  He pushed me down onto the beach towel with his damp body, and kissed me in a way that told me how he felt. I stroked my hand over his wet hair and smiled up at him.

  “You’re so cute when you’re wet.”

  “So are you,” he said, with a leer.

  We ate lunch on the beach, panini from the shop and some fresh fruit sold by a bored teenage boy, who was slouched under a sunshade.

  Sebastian continued to flirt with me, tease me, and toy with my bikini straps, which I found ridiculously adorable. It was all I could do to stop myself from leaping on him there and then. But we were both enjoying just touching each other, playing and spending time together, without having to worry about what anyone else thought, said or did.

  In the afternoon, he fell asleep in the sun and I lay watching him for nearly an hour, almost unable to believe my luck: that he was really mine, and that I was his.

  We spent the rest of the day on the beach. Sebastian even persuaded me to go for a surf with him, although I thought the water was really too cold to be pleasurable.

  “Come on, Caro, I’ve wanted to try this for a long time. Let’s take the board out and catch a wave together. I’ll do the paddling and I can stare at your gorgeous ass while I’m doing it.”

  Which was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

  I lay on the board first, and Sebastian jumped on behind me. He couldn’t resist giving my ass a quick bite.

  We paddled out to just behind where the waves were breaking, then as the water started to rise, Sebastian turned the board around and we began to speed down the front of the wave.

  “Get ready to pop up!” he yelled, above the crashing surf. “Go!”

  I scrambled to my feet and felt the board wobble slightly, then Sebastian was behind me, one hand steadying my hip as we raced down the face of the wave.

  It was the most extraordinary feeling, riding that wave together. In some ways it was a metaphor for the life we were starting out on. Who knew when we’d fall off? But by trusting each other and moving as one, the ride would be longer.

  Eventually, Sebastian conceded that I really was cold, and we belly-boarded back into the beach.

  “Your nipples are hard,” he said, pointing out the darned obvious.

  “Well, what a shocker,” I said. “I’ve never seen them like that before.”

  “Is that right? I’ll see what I can do about it later.”

  “Promises, promises,” I sighed.

  His eyes widened and his nostrils flared with the challenge.

  “Bed, woman. Now.”

  “Don’t you want to find somewhere to have dinner first?”

  He shook his head. The Chief wanted sex, not food. I really, really wasn’t going to argue.

  We booked the room behind the beach shop, but were interrupted en route to our sexcapades by the owner, who was desperate to talk to Sebastian about surf spots in California. I left them mulling over whether San Diego or Monterey had the better breaks, even though I could feel Sebastian’s eyes following me across the beach.

  I collected our overnight bag from the bike and carried it into the small room.

  It was like being in a log cabin: wooden walls, wooden floors, wooden furniture. But Sebastian was right—the bed was huge. I tested it out gingerly. Nope, no creaking springs to distract us tonight.

  While I was waiting for him, I checked up on my emails. I was surprised to see that there was one from Nicole.

  To: Lee Venzi

  From: Nicole Olsen

  Re: WTF

  Venzi! WTF are you doing in Italy? How come I had to hear about it secondhand from Jenna? Don’t you think it’s time you had mindless sex with an Italian stallion? Call me for tips. Have fun. Nx

  That was so like Nicole. If only she knew. I decided I’d send her a photo of Sebastian to cheer up her gray, New York morning.

  I picked the one of him sitting back on the beach towel, his beautiful face and divine chest in full view. I wasn’t going to send her the one where his board shorts showed the ammo he was packing: Nicole would probably implode.

  To: Nicole Olsen

  From: Lee Venzi

  Re: Re: WTF

  Am thinking about your advice ;) Traveling through Italy with an old friend. Thought you’d like this eye candy to brighten your day. Lx

  I was still smiling to myself about Nicole’s message and my reply, when Sebastian strolled in.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, I just had an email from my friend Nicole in NYC. She wants me to have mindless sex with an Italian stallion.”

  Sebastian didn’t look amused. “Why is she saying stuff like that to you?”

  “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Sebastian! It’s just a joke. She’s always nagging me to find a man.”

  “What about me?” he said, sounding ridiculously hurt.

  I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t told anyone about you. I like having you to myself. But I will, if you want me to.”

  “I want to know your friends, Caro. Although I’ll fucking tell ‘Nicole’ that she can keep her comments about ‘Italian stallions’ to herself.”

  Uh-oh, the Chief was riled.

  Now that was going to be an interesting meeting—Sebastian and Nicole were both pretty fiery. I wasn’t going to place bets on who’d win that encounter.

  Suddenly my phone rang. I stared at it in amazement, as if it had suddenly grown wings. Why on earth was Nicole calling me?

  “Nicole, hi! Wow, it’s great to hear from you. How are you?

  “Don’t give me that, Venzi. Where did you get that smokin’ hot picture? Have you turned into one of those women who ogles younger men?”

  “Like you, you mean?”

  Nicole snorted. “Exactly! Since when did you start taking photos of hot guys? And who’s this ‘old friend’ that you’re suddenly traveling around Italy with?”

  “Nicole, I sent you a picture of him. His name is Sebastian.”

  Sebastian glanced over at me, a smile on his face.

  “Come on, Lee. Why won’t you tell me who you’re traveling around with?”

  “No, seriously, Nicole. That’s a photo of my friend.”

  “The Stud Muffin is your ‘old friend’?” she yelled down the phone. “You’re bullshitting me, Lee!”

  I laughed. “I promise you, Nicole.”

  “Have you been holding out on me? Where did you meet him?”

  Her words poured out in a torrent.

  “I’ll tell you some other time,” I said, shaking my head, as Sebastian gazed at me quizzically.

  ??
?No! Tell me now!” she shrieked.

  “I can’t. Later.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Because he’s standing right here, Nicole.”

  Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

  “Bullshit! I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Put him on the phone then.”

  “What?”

  “I think you’ve been without sex too long, Venzi. You’re hallucinating.”

  I handed the phone to Sebastian. “She wants to talk to you.”

  He took the phone, looking amused. “Hi, Nicole. This is Sebastian.”

  I saw him listening intently, a slight frown on his face. I wondered what on earth Nicole could be saying to him.

  “You don’t want me to use her?” he said, glancing toward me. “Well, Nicole, I was planning on taking her to bed and using her in ways that aren’t even mentioned in the Kama Sutra, but now you’ve told me that, I think I should go take a cold shower instead.”

  I snatched the phone back, glaring at him. Sebastian just smirked at me.

  “Sorry about that, Nic!”

  There was a long silence at the other end.

  “Nic?”

  “Fuck me!” she said, huskily. “Don’t be sorry, Lee. That is the hottest thing I’ve heard in years. He sounds like a sex machine! Look, I think you should write a sex manual with this guy, but you’ll have to take photographs … lots of photographs.”

  I laughed. “I’ll get back to you on that, Nic.”

  At which point, restive and impatient, Sebastian started untying the straps of my bikini. I tried to shoo his hands away, but it was awkward, what with trying to hold onto my phone and continue the conversation. I gasped as he tossed my bikini top onto the floor and massaged my nipples with his fingers.

  “Oh my God, Lee! Are you guys doing it right now? Can you put the speakerphone on?”

  “I’ll have to call you back, Nic,” I said, breathlessly.

  I cut the call while she was still yelling, and launched myself at Sebastian.

  My phone clattered to the floor, and one part of my brain was already assessing what damage that might have caused; but the greater part of my brain, by far, already had Sebastian stripped and ready for action. My fumbling fingers had to play catch up but, even so, my tackle had knocked him backward onto the bed.