The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline

He raised his arms willingly and I pulled the sweatshirt over his head, letting it drop where it may.

  His white t-shirt hugged his chest snugly, and I indulged in a moment of sheer pleasure, feeling his muscles through the fabric beneath my bold fingers.

  I let my hand drift down to the material’s edge and gently skated my fingers over the smooth, warm skin of his stomach.

  He inhaled deeply and rested his hands on my upper arms, his eyes wide and wondering.

  I retraced my route upwards, this time my fingers tented under the t-shirt, enjoying the ripple of muscles and the undulations of his now shallow breathing.

  I stroked his skin, my eyes still fixed on his, then let my hand steal downwards toward the waistband of his jeans. My fingers drifted around the edge and a shiver ran through him.

  Taking a step back, I seized the hem of his t-shirt and ripped it upwards, pulling it over his head, and kneading it in my hands before dropping it to the floor.

  I took a deep breath as I allowed my eyes to drink him in; his youth, his beauty, the desire flaring in his eyes. I reached out and hooked one hand into a belt loop and let the other trace the outline of his erection, so evident through the denim.

  He swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, I took a step forward so my breasts brushed his chest.

  One hand reached up to his bruised cheek, the other an adventurer in a foreign land, continued stroking him.

  Tentatively, his hands crept around my waist, so gently that they barely touched me. I pulled his face down and kissed him again. And this time he kissed me back more urgently, his tongue driving into my mouth, and I felt his hands tightening around me. Encouraged, I slipped my hand inside his jeans, and his body tensed. I could feel his heat; his nakedness beneath the denim was doubly arousing. He moaned, a long drawn out sigh of desire.

  “Undo my zipper,” I ordered quietly.

  Fumbling slightly, he pulled down the zipper of my dress. I shrugged my shoulders, watching with distant surprise as it fluttered to the floor.

  For the length of a heartbeat, Sebastian paused, and then he stepped toward me again, his hands moving from my hips to my waist, then hovering uncertainly over my breasts.

  “Yes. Touch me.”

  I threaded my fingers through his and slowly lifted his right hand to my breast, moving in a slow circle, showing him what pleased me, letting him explore my body as I shivered beneath his touch. The sensation of flesh on flesh.

  He curled his left hand behind me, slowly drifting upwards, then pressed the palm flat against my spine, his right hand now cupping my breast. He kissed me again. My own heart rate escalated and I was aware that my whole being was responding to his touch.

  “Kick off your shoes. I want to undress you.”

  He hesitated briefly, allowing the instruction to soak into his flooded brain, then he toed off his sneakers. His feet were beautifully bare.

  I pulled him toward me again and undid the button on his jeans. His eyes were huge, gazing at me with unmistakable lust. I didn’t dare stop to analyze how I felt. Boldly, I unzipped his jeans and pushed the denim off his hips. I surprised him by sinking down to pull the material from his legs.

  His erection was freed, and I was surprised and slightly appalled. He was so much bigger than David. I’d never been with another man before or since my marriage; I was disconcerted, knowing that Sebastian was counting on me to continue taking the lead.

  I ran my careful hands up his calves, behind his knees, over and between his thighs, then let my fingers drift through his pubic hair, stroking his erection softly. It was really kind of beautiful—soft and silky on the outside, but firm, too. I’d never wanted to spend time looking at David that way: this was different. Sebastian seemed so vulnerable standing there, trusting me. I continued stroking him, gently massaging him, rubbing my fingers along his tip.

  His entire body quivered, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  I stood up and undid my bra as he watched me with stunned disbelief. I took a deep breath, then hooked my fingers into my panties, pulling them off my hips and stepping out of them.

  For a moment, time seemed to billow outwards as we stood and stared at each other, drinking in our nakedness.

  I held out my hand and Sebastian took a step toward me. Suddenly, it was as if a switch had been flicked on inside him and he wrapped his body around me—his hands on my breasts, my shoulders, my buttocks, my thighs; his tongue in my mouth, on my neck, between my breasts; overwhelming me everywhere.

  I grabbed hold of him almost violently, pushing my fingers hard against his length; I heard his breath hiss through his teeth.

  I pulled his erection once again, my fingers wrapped firmly around his sweet skin. He exploded suddenly, his body shuddering. I felt the dampness on my thigh and looked down to see the pale, creamy fluid.

  A familiar feeling of disappointment trickled through me. But the look on his face halted my thoughts.

  Crushed by the weight of further humiliation, he shattered, falling to the floor, weeping brokenly.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  He heaved out the words again and again, his face hidden in his hands.

  “No, don’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay,” I whispered, stroking the soft, golden skin of his back.

  How many times had I said those words before without meaning them? Until now.

  I sank to the floor and held him in my arms, rocking him to and fro, crooning wordlessly as his sobs wracked him.

  Eventually he stilled but refused to look at me.

  “Sebastian, it’s okay.”

  There was no response.

  “Sebastian. Look at me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered again, his face turned away.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, how to show him that it didn’t matter; or, at least, that I didn’t think any less of him because of what had happened, or rather, not happened.

  I pulled one hand away from his tear-stained face.

  “Come on.”

  He finally looked at me, utterly bewildered.

  Gently, I tugged his hand.

  “Come.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Sebastian looked confused as I led him back into the bedroom.

  I pulled the sheets away and tried to erase the thought that this was David’s side of the bed.

  “Lie down.”

  He lay back, his beautiful eyes watching my every move. I walked around the bed to lie on my side next to him, pulling the sheet up and around us, cocooning us, protecting him.

  I reached out to stroke his cheek, and his lips parted. I traced the outline of his mouth with one finger and then leaned over to kiss him, tasting salty tears.

  I moved down to his throat, gentle butterfly kisses, my hair sweeping across his chest. Hesitantly, he lifted one hand, skimming along my arm to my shoulder and then, more boldly, down to my breast.

  His thumb circled my nipple and I gasped with pleasure. He immediately lifted his hand away.

  “No, don’t stop.”

  I continued kissing him across his chest and down to his stomach. His hand moved to my ass, stroking it carefully.

  His erection was stirring again so I kissed him there, feeling his body tremble beneath my feather-light touch.

  I lay back down beside him and moved his hand to my thighs.

  “You can touch me.”

  I guided his hand closer. Folding my fingers over his, I massaged myself with his hand, tilting my hips upwards, sucking in a deep breath when he found my most sensitive place.

  “Yes, that’s right. Like that.”

  It was pleasurable for a few moments, but I wanted more. I took his hand, folding the shorter fingers toward his palm, and slid his index finger inside me.

  “Slowly. Yes, in and out.”

  He followed my instructions carefully, the gentle assault making me moan and writhe. I angled my hips slightly, and moved his thumb so it made sweet circles around my clitoris
. I let out a long sigh of pleasure. His warm lips kissed my throat as his hand continued its steady motion.

  I didn’t want to have thoughts of David in my overwhelmed brain, but I couldn’t help comparing … this love-making with the selfish sexual demands usually made of me.

  I reached down and stroked him, now so firm and erect. I longed to feel him inside me, but I was afraid of rushing him again.

  I trapped his hand between my thighs and sat up. He looked surprised and suddenly unsure of himself. I leaned over and kissed him, more forcefully this time, rocking onto him. With his free hand, he wound his fingers through my hair and kissed me back, letting himself go further and take more.

  Then he ran his hand over my breasts, and gently pulled on one nipple. The sensation was overwhelming and shocking, an orgasm taking me by surprise. His fingers must have felt the ripples of my pleasure, and he could see the way my body arched and stiffened. So unexpected, so confusing. For me, orgasms were a solitary pursuit; this was new.

  “Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.

  It took me a moment to find my voice. “Yes. Very okay. Very, very okay.”

  And for the first time that evening, he smiled.

  I’d guessed, and I think I’d guessed right, that this was all new to Sebastian, but he made me feel things I’d never experienced before—love and passion. I just hadn’t realized … I didn’t know it could be like this.

  “Now your turn,” I said.

  A quizzical expression crossed his face. Then a look of understanding as I sat up and kneeled across him. I leaned down to kiss him as his hands snaked around my back, pulling me toward him. He moaned against my mouth, and I pushed myself upright again.

  This time I raised my hips and used my hands to guide him inside me. Slowly, I sank down onto him, my eyes closed; I heard him gasp.

  At last I could feel every inch of him inside. I took his hands and pressed them against my belly.

  “Can you feel yourself inside me?”

  His face was filled with amazement.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I can.”

  I leaned forward again, my hands resting on his chest, moving my hips up and down in a steady rhythm. He pushed his head back into the pillow, his mouth open, absorbing the new sensation. I felt his body flexing into mine, pushing himself deep inside me.

  He began to move faster, more confidently, more desperately, and I let the feeling carry me with him.

  I opened my eyes to find his locked on mine, almost feral in their intensity. I moved faster, meeting each movement he made, grinding down as he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands locked over mine. He came quietly as his body quivered inside me. I fell forward onto his chest, breathless and relieved.

  We lay peacefully for a few minutes, and I listened to the sound of his heart, slowing to its normal rhythm. Then I slid off him and lay on my back. I think I was smiling.

  I felt the bed move, and I opened one eye; he was leaning on his elbow looking down at me.

  “Hi,” I said, almost shyly. “You okay?”

  He nodded solemnly. “That was … that was…”

  “Yes, it was.”

  I stroked his cheek, and his eyes closed with a sigh. Then he turned his lips toward my hand and kissed the palm. The unexpected, intimate gesture took me by surprise.

  “I love you, Caroline. I always have. My whole life.”

  I smothered a delighted laugh.

  “That’s a very long time,” I teased him. “You’re only 18—your whole life isn’t that much, really.”

  He smiled. “It feels like it sometimes. Anyway, I’m not 18 for another four months; I’ll let you know then.”

  As I processed his words, cold shock rushed through me, and a look of abject horror etched itself on my face.

  “What?” I couldn’t believe the words he’d just said.

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  “You … you’re only seventeen?”

  He nodded, his expression anxious.

  “For God’s sake, Sebastian! Seventeen?”

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  He looked at me nervously. “What’s the matter?”

  I threw my arm over my eyes, unable to look at him. What had I done? What the fuck had I done?

  “Please, Caroline. You’re scaring me.”

  I took a deep breath and turned to glare at him, needing to take my sudden panic and anger out on him.

  “The matter, Sebastian, is that you’re a minor. What we’ve just done … what I’ve just done … it’s against the law. It’s a felony, for God’s sake!”

  “But I love you.”

  I wanted to scream.

  “Sebastian: it’s statutory rape! Do you know what that means? I could go to prison. If anyone found out…”

  “I won’t tell anyone. I love…”

  “Don’t say it! Do not say it!” I shouted the words and he flinched.

  I ran to the bathroom, afraid I was going to be sick. I held my hand over my mouth as dry heaves raked me. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I felt him hovering uncertainly behind me.

  “Caroline, please.”

  I held my hand out like a traffic cop, stopping him from coming any closer.

  What had I done?

  The words echoed emptily.

  “Please!” His voice was begging, desperate, but I couldn’t look at him.

  My skin felt icy-cold then hot with shame, as a torrent of emotion engulfed me. I staggered to the bathroom door, plucked my robe off the hook and wrapped it around me, as if the thin material could hide my crime.

  I tried to push past him to the bedroom, but he blocked my way.

  “Oh, God, please, Caroline!” and he tried to pull me to him.

  “No!”

  I made it as far as the bed before my knees gave way and I sat down, gasping.

  “What have I done? What have I done?”

  I hid my head in my hands and tried to fight the rising panic.

  I knew he was watching me but I couldn’t look. Silently, he sat down next to me.

  “I’m not sorry,” he whispered. “That was the best experience of my whole life. I love you; I can’t help it.”

  And he pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me, taking care of me, soothing me.

  Slowly the shock wore off, and finally I was able to sit up, pushing his arms away.

  “I apologize, Sebastian. It isn’t your fault. Please forgive my … behavior.” I spoke coldly, formally, afraid to give way to further emotion. “I think you’d better leave now.”

  “Please. Don’t send me away.”

  His voice was husky.

  When I didn’t reply, he stood up and walked into the bathroom, his eyes downcast, searching the floor for an answer that wasn’t there. I could hear the soft rustle of material and I knew he was getting dressed.

  I hurried into the kitchen, needing activity to stop my hands from shaking. I cleared away a puddle of melting ice, and threw the antiseptic cream into the nearest drawer.

  Then I leaned over the sink, trying to force some coherent thought into my befuddled brain. I heard his quiet footsteps on the linoleum and, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I turned to face him.

  The expression on his face shocked me: he looked so broken.

  “Oh, Sebastian!”

  And I started to cry.

  Half a heartbeat later I was in his arms, my cheek against his chest, and he was stroking my hair.

  “Don’t be sad, Caroline, I love you. It’ll be okay.”

  I was crying and laughing and crying. How ridiculous. Of course it wasn’t going to be okay. How ridiculously happy and terrified and happy I felt.

  I lifted my head, aware that I was red-eyed and hideous.

  He wiped my tears with his thumbs.

  I thought he was going to speak, but then we heard the sound of a car outside.

  “David!”

  Panic lanced through me.

  “You have to go! Quickly! Out thro
ugh the backyard. Go!”

  He turned to run to the door, then skidded to a halt. “When will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know! Go! Go!”

  “Promise I’ll see you again! Promise me!”

  “Okay, I promise!” I said desperately, staring aghast at the front door.

  He pulled me to him, kissing me fiercely. And then he was gone.

  Trying to breathe naturally, I ran to the bedroom, straightening the sheets, plumping up the pillows where Sebastian had been lying just a few minutes before. There was no time to change the sheets and I felt faintly appalled by the thought of David sleeping where Sebastian and I had made love.

  I heard his key in the lock, and then remembered that I’d shaved Sebastian’s hair in the bathroom. I raced in and fell to my knees, sweeping up the sun-blond hair with my hands and tossing it down into the toilet bowl.

  A sudden desire to have something of Sebastian made me pick up one lock and shove it deep inside the pocket of my robe. Then I pulled the handle and watched fascinated as the rest of the hair was swirled away. I splashed some water on my face and ran a brush through my knotted hair.

  I heard a crash in the living room. As I’d expected, David was drunk.

  “Car’line … Car’line.”

  He saw me and licked his lips.

  “Beau’ful Car’line. Bella, bella!”

  I tried to lift one of his arms over my shoulder so I could help him to the bedroom, but he pushed me off, tugging open my robe. He ran his hands over my breasts as I tried again to steer him stumbling toward the bedroom.

  “Come on, David, give me some help here.”

  “What I’d like to give you, Car’line. C’mere.”

  He tried to grab me again but missed and fell face first onto the bed. He was asleep instantly.

  With relief, I straightened my robe and then pulled off his shoes and socks. His uniform would be un-wearable in the morning.

  Glad of something to do, I hunted around in the closet until I found a clean shirt and the rest of his spare service summer whites. The pants would need pressing.

  I’d tucked the portable ironing board into a closet in the utility room. I pulled it out, wincing when a mop clattered to the floor. But David didn’t stir.

  I set the iron to ‘hot’, finding some equilibrium in the familiar drudgery.