Chapter 5
A summer of stolen happiness—that’s how I remembered the days that followed. The storm clouds gathered in the distance while my days with Sebastian were filled with light.
We knew we had to be careful. The military was a close-knit family and, like all families, the whisper of disapproval was never far away.
Daytime was easier. David worked until 6 PM most days and every third weekend, but now Sebastian had finished with school for good, his time was his own. Estelle had persuaded Donald of the benefits of a college education for their only child and, as far as they knew, Sebastian was due to start at UCSD in the Fall. Only his mother had reluctantly attended his graduation, Donald being far too busy to attend such a trivial event, and Sebastian had shyly shown me the formal photograph of himself in his cap and gown. My own graduation seemed a shadow in another lifetime.
The hard part was knowing that we couldn’t be together intimately—I was quite clear about that. But the more I saw him, the more I spent time with him, the harder it became. He was beautiful inside and out. I loved the way he looked at the world, with such zest and enthusiasm, despite the coldness of his parental home. He soaked up every smile, every hesitant touch that I could give him. But I knew he wanted more, and so did I. Pandora’s Box had been opened, and it was proving very hard to keep the lid closed. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, the intense memory of our night of lovemaking was ever present in my thoughts; I was pretty certain Sebastian felt the same.
We were sitting huddled together, sheltered by a sand dune, while a short shower clouded the horizon, a picnic blanket swaddling us.
“Caro, you know you talked about wanting to go back east—did you mean North Carolina or Maryland?”
“Not Maryland,” I said, shuddering at the thought of being in the same state as my mother. “I was just thinking about getting as far away from here as possible. No, it doesn’t have to be there or North Carolina. Why? Did you have somewhere in mind?”
“Well,” he said hesitantly, “I was thinking maybe we could go to New York City. It should be easy to get work there, right?”
“I guess.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to live in a city that size but after a moment’s thought, I could definitely see the benefits. For one thing, we’d be harder to find; Sebastian was right about the increased chances of finding work. But I was also rather intimidated by the sheer scale of what we’d be undertaking. I’d been there twice, and each time had quailed at the speed at which everything happened. I was afraid I’d be lost. But…with Sebastian? I wouldn’t have to face it alone. I wouldn’t have to face anything alone ever again.
“I looked at some courses at NYU,” he said, in a voice that was just one shade too casual to be believable.
“And?”
“Nothing, really. I just thought it would be cool—you and me in the Big Apple.”
“Sebastian, I don’t mind where we go. If you want to go to New York, if you’ve seen some courses that interest you, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“Really?”
He beamed at me.
“Of course! It’s just as much your future as mine.” Or more.
In secrecy, we planned for Sebastian to apply to NYU with his courses starting in the Spring semester. We—and I delighted in that small pronoun—would leave California as soon as he was 18 on October 2nd, and hoped to hide in the anonymity of the gray metropolis. I would, of course, find work as a journalist, and undoubtedly we would be happy.
I was swept up in that delicious dream. I couldn’t fully hide my happiness; someone was bound to notice.
“Caroline!”
Donna Vorstadt’s voice interrupted my happy musings in the Kwik Shop.
“How are you? Johan and I are really looking forward to your little soirée tomorrow.”
My brain lurched to attention. Had she seen me arrive with Sebastian? No, she was still smiling, acting normally—unlike me.
“Oh, yes, of course! Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”
So true.
“It must have been somewhere lovely—I called your name three times!”
I flushed uncomfortably and she raised an eyebrow, but was kind enough not to pursue the point.
“David told Johan that you’ll be making some of your delicious little Italian delicacies.”
She glanced, puzzled, at my cart. A milk carton and bottle of olive oil blinked back at her.
“I prefer to cook everything from fresh,” I muttered, improvising wretchedly.
“Of course,” she smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Oh, look! There’s the Hunters’ boy over by the cold meat counter. He’s cut his hair. Goodness! Sebastian! Yoo-hoo!”
A brief expression of horror swept over his face before he schooled his features into blankness. He walked toward us, warily.
“Hi, Mrs. Vorstadt.” He paused. “Mrs. Wilson,” he muttered.
“Hello, Sebastian,” she said, eyeing his buzz-cut. “Are you shopping for your mother?”
“Um…”
“That’s awfully good of you. I wish I could get my boys to do chores around the house. They think food just materializes into the refrigerator.”
I laughed weakly and Sebastian smiled, giving a vague, noncommittal answer.
“Can I give you a ride home, Sebastian?” Donna offered kindly.
“No, thanks, Mrs. Vorstadt, I’m good.”
She smiled. “Well…see you tomorrow, Caroline.”
“Bye.”
Eventually she disappeared behind the frozen goods and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath.
“We must be more careful,” I whispered.
Sebastian nodded solemnly, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“What?!”
He shook his head, a small smile escaping. “Let’s get out of here.”
I abandoned my few goods with the shopping cart, much to the irritation of the staff, no doubt, and headed for the parking lot. Our exit was certainly more discreet than our aborted shopping expedition.
I slipped into the driver’s seat feeling elated and guilty at the same time.
Sebastian let his fingers drift down my neck; a shiver ran through me.
“Not here!”
“Where then?”
“Let’s go to the beach.”
He grinned. “Perfect.”
As I drove he fiddled with the radio and picked up a station playing cool, ambient jazz.
“Mom and Dad have been on my case about getting a summer job,” he said casually.
My heart sank—if he worked all day, I’d never see him. I couldn’t go out in the evenings, not without facing the inquisition from David.
“What sort of job?”
He shrugged. “Ches says I could get a job bussing tables at the place he works—the country club out at La Jolla.”
“That sounds…fun.”
“Mostly evening shifts, Caro. I’ll still be free during the days.”
I smiled with relief. “By the way, I’d like you to read my surfing article; just to make sure it’s okay.”
“You finished it?”
He sounded surprised.
“Sure! What else is there to do in the evenings?” I said, teasing.
He scowled. “I hate you going home to that asshole.”
I sighed. “Me, too, but it’s not for much longer.”
The truth was that I found David’s brittle company almost unbearable. I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to last four months. I’d been turning over in my mind the possibility of moving out—but I was scared and had little money of my own.
I banished the thought of David: here and now was for Sebastian.
“Which beach shall we go to?”
“There’s a place I know not far from here. There’s a beach shack, too, so we should be able to get some food.”
I smiled to myself—the boy could eat.
No, not a boy, I snarled.
But the part of my brain where I parked all my miscreant thoughts was getting pretty damn crowded.
We drove with the windows down, Sebastian leaning back lazily, singing along softly to the radio, while the wind tangled my hair.
Sebastian was showing me a side of San Diego that I’d never seen before—the chilled out, laidback beach community that would have given David hives.
The girl working the counter of the beach shack eyed Sebastian with interest. I watched her follow his progress around the store. She was pretty; a stereotypical California girl with long, blonde hair, long tanned legs, and long, false eyelashes. To my amusement and delight, Sebastian didn’t appear to notice her.
“What do you want to eat, Caro? They’ve got tuna on wheat or meatloaf on rye.”
“I’ll just have a soda and a small bag of chips.”
He frowned. “That’s not very healthy.”
He looked so serious, standing there in his cut–offs and surfer t–shirt, I couldn’t help a broad smile.
“Then I’d better have the tuna, kind sir.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Just a little, but in a good way. You’re so sweet!”
He looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not that was a compliment, but shrugged it off.
I paid for the food, irritated with myself for recalling that the money came from the housekeeping David so grudgingly gave me. To hell with it! I earned every penny: cooking, cleaning, ironing his damn pants—even entertaining his colleagues.
The cashier loaded our purchases into a carrier which Sebastian tucked under one arm, with the briefest of smiles at her. Then he took my hand.
He took my hand!
David never held my hand. Well, perhaps once—the day of our marriage, when my father had given it to him. Not since then, not that I could remember.
It felt wonderful and terrifying, strolling along the beach, our fingers learning the lines and shapes of each other’s hands.
We found the perfect dune, a concave dip among the marram grass. It gave us some slight protection from the prevailing wind, although it was gentle today; but, more importantly, it gave us privacy from anyone watching from the beach.
Shyly, I pulled a copy of my surfing article out of my bag.
“This is it.”
He sank down to the sand and sat cross-legged. I watched his face anxiously as he read. It was the first time I’d shown anyone my writing. I badly wanted him to like it. I felt like I’d launched a baby out into the world and was waiting for someone to tell me whether or not I had an ugly child.
Once or twice Sebastian smiled as read through the pages, then he looked up.
“It’s really good.”
I looked at him, skeptically.
“It is! I really liked the joke about the Hawaiian Surfers Marine Corps storming up the beach to invade, but deciding to catch one more wave first.”
“You really liked it?
“It’s good, Caro.”
“You’d say that anyway.”
He smiled.
“Probably, but I happen to mean it. It gives people an insight into surfing and the Military way of doing things. It’s clever. There’s just one thing…”
I knew it.
“You’ve got a spelling mistake there: you’ve put ‘truster’ instead of ‘thruster’.”
“Where? Show me.”
He laughed. “Just kidding.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, imagine getting the thrusting wrong.”
He gaped at me as I lay back on the warm sand, basking in the sudden heat of his gaze.
“You are so beautiful, Caro,” he whispered, unwinding his long legs so he was stretched out next to me.
I grinned stupidly at him.
“You are!” he insisted.
He was leaning on one elbow, his head resting on his hand. Out here his eyes looked slate-green and his skin glowed gold in the sun.
“You’re the beautiful one, Sebastian. Beautiful inside and out.”
He blinked, surprised at my words, then smiled. Another chip of ice dropped from my heart.
“I think you should kiss me.”
The words were out before I knew what I’d said. I really meant them.
“I thought we weren’t going to…you know…until I was 18.”
“That’s right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t kiss me.”
“Really?” He looked delighted.
“Perhaps you’d prefer a written invitation?”
“Not necessarily,” he whispered.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down toward me, stroking his short, silky hair. His gentle lips touched mine and desire exploded inside me, rushing through my veins like quicksilver. A soft, wordless sound escaped him, and my tongue was in his mouth, savoring his taste, tasting his own desire.
My hands ran down his back and greedily pulled up his t–shirt. My fingers turned to claws as I raked my nails down his back, making him gasp. He leaned away abruptly and tugged the material over his head; then his naked chest was pressing into me, forcing me into the sand. Against my belly, his erection was taut.
God! How I wanted him. To renew the sensation of him inside me, to understand, to feel that I was desired and loved and needed.
He forced one leg between mine and ran his hand along my bare skin, up my knee, my hip, teasing the material of my panties, before moving up to my waist and then running his hand over my breast and squeezing gently.
I was desperate to take it further but I was held back by the thin edge of reason, and the knowledge that one more step would tip me into the darkness.
“We have to stop,” I groaned against his lips.
“No,” he gasped.
His hand moved determinedly under the thin fabric of my strappy t-shirt, stroking and caressing my breasts.
My breathing was becoming ragged, as if I was running.
Summoning my final ounce of will power, I pushed feebly against his chest.
“No, Sebastian.”
He stopped instantly, and with a soft moan, rolled onto his back.
“I want you, Caro,” he breathed out. “I want to make love to you. I want to make love to you forever.”
My breath caught in my throat.
I want that, too. So much.
I didn’t answer, but lay unmoving, feeling my body float back to earth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him adjust himself. I felt guilty for making him uncomfortable.
Hell, was there anything I didn’t feel guilty about?
“Is this what it’s going to be like for the next four months?” he said, sounding aggrieved.
“Or I could join a convent,” I muttered, almost to myself.
“I’d still find you,” he said darkly.
I smiled.
“Okay, no convents. Or monasteries, come to think of it.”
I fished around for a new topic of conversation.
“Tell me about this job you mentioned. When do you start?”
“I haven’t applied for it yet.”
“Why not?”
“I wanted to make sure it was okay with you first, Caro.”
I was surprised. Yes, that was the word, surprised and plain amazed.
“You…you were waiting for…what, my permission?”
“Well, not exactly.” He sounded puzzled. “So we could discuss it together and then decide.”
Oh. Like a real couple.
David never discussed anything with me; I simply received his Decree from on high.
“And you’ll be working the late shift? Well, that sounds fine to me.”
“Great!” he said and turned on his side to look at me, smiling. “I’ll have to do some day shifts, maybe. The pay is shit but Ches said the tips are pretty good, especially from older women.”
I winced and his expression froze.
“I didn’t mean…I don’t think of you like that! Caro, no!”
But the genie was out of the bottle, a vintage one at that.
“It’s not far off the mark, Sebastian.”
He sat up, his face alarmed.
“Don’t say that! I love you so much, Caro. I…what I feel for you…I’ve never…”
He grabbed my hand and held the palm against his cheek.
I sat up, too, shaking sand from my hair.
“It is what it is, Sebastian.”
We sat in silence for some minutes.
I could tell he was mortified, wishing his candid words unsaid.
“So,” I said at last, my tone deliberately light, “no girls at high school who grabbed your attention? No cheerleaders waving their pompoms at you?”
He smiled ruefully, relieved, I thought for yet another change of topic.
“Not really.”
“Not really isn’t not at all. Tell me, I’m curious.”
He sighed. “They didn’t mean anything.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “I’m not jealous, Sebastian!”
But even as I said the words, I wasn’t entirely sure they were true. I remembered the hungry look of the surf shack girl and how much I’d wanted to punch her vapid smile into the back of her throat.
“What do you want to know?” he said in a resigned voice.
“It’s not important, honestly, I was just curious.”
He lay back on the sand, his eyes closed.
“It’s always been you, Caro. The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful girl that I’d ever seen. I thought you must be a princess, like Cinderella. It’s only ever been you.”
I was stunned by his reply.
Yes, a fairy tale. That’s what this was—a lovely fantasy. But somehow I couldn’t bring myself to care. I longed to run my fingers down his smooth skin, over his bare chest, across the defined muscles of his stomach. My gaze lingered on the waistband of his cut-offs.
“What about you?” he said, his eyes still closed.
“What about me what?”
“Did you go out with anyone before…before David?”
I didn’t really want to hear David’s name and certainly not from Sebastian’s lips, but it was a fair question.
“I dated a few times in high school—movies, bowling, that sort of thing. I met David when I was in my senior year.”
“My age,” he said softly.
“Yes.”
Where was he going with this?
“Did you…did you…sleep with him then?”
I really didn’t want to go there.
“Yes.”
“But you won’t sleep with me?”
“Oh, Sebastian! Please don’t do this!”
“But I don’t understand. You were my age. You just said so. How can it have been right then and wrong now?”
He sounded really angry and he turned his head away from me.
“Please don’t, Sebastian.”
My voice was suddenly hoarse with tears.
He didn’t reply.
I swallowed and took a deep breath.
“Because we were in Maryland and the age of consent is 16. It wasn’t illegal.”
“And that’s the only reason?” he muttered.
“Of course!”
He paused and then said,
“Are you still sleeping with him?”
“What?” I choked the word out.
His voice was barely a whisper. “Are you still sleeping with him? Now, I mean.”
This was ghastly.
“We share a bed, Sebastian, but we haven’t…had sex. Not since…you…since us.”
I thought that would be enough, but I was wrong.
“Are you going to sleep with him? While you’re still living there?”
He turned toward me, his face desperate.
“Will you, Caro?”
Appalled by the direction of his interrogation, I closed my eyes and spoke with a cold, controlled voice.
“The thought of David touching me is utterly repellent, Sebastian…but my husband is not a patient man.”
I heard him gasp.
“You mean he’d force you?”
Sebastian’s voice was horrified. I saw rage flare in his eyes; his expression scared me.
“No, not the way you mean…”
“You can’t, Caro! You can’t let him! Promise me you won’t let him touch you.”
How on earth could I keep that promise? I wanted to, desperately.
“I’ll try.”
He looked like he wanted to say more.
“Sebastian, it’s a beautiful day; we have a few precious hours left, please let’s not spend it fighting.” Or talking about David.
He took a deep breath. “When I think of him touching you, I just…”
“Please, don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
We paused, our lives at opposite sides of a gorge, a delicate tightrope stretched between us.
He reached over and pulled me to him, so I was splayed across his chest.
“That’s better,” he said. “You were too far away.”
I smiled sadly. His words were truer than he knew. But I was where I wanted to be, in the enchanted circle of his arms.
He nuzzled my neck, the tickling sensation making me squirm.
“You’re all sandy,” he murmured against my throat.
“I wonder why? Could it be because we’re at the beach?” I tried to match his playful tone.
“You’ll have to wash it off,” he said, his voice soft and seductive.
“Mmm, I suppose I shall.”
He sat up quickly so I was cradled in his lap.
“I want to help with that,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.
He stood up with me in his arms and started striding toward the sea.
“Sebastian! Don’t you dare!” I half-screamed, half-laughed.
“I’m helping!” he said, smiling broadly.
And he dunked me in the sea, fully dressed.
“Aagh!”
The water was shockingly cold.
“Sebastian!” I gasped, spitting out seawater, “I’m soaking!”
“Mmm, I’ve always wanted to see a wet t-shirt competition.”
“Sebastian!” I yelled, trying to maintain some shreds of dignity as I struggled back to the dry sand. “Just look at me! I’m furious with you!”
“What are you going to do, spank me?” he said with a wicked grin.
My mouth dropped open in shock.
“I’ll think of something,” I huffed ineffectually.
“Bring it on!” he replied, his tone amused.
I dripped back to our cozy dune and stripped off my strappy t-shirt and summer skirt, draping them across the long grass. The material of both was thin so there was a good chance they’d dry out before I had to go home. If not, well, David hadn’t looked in the laundry hamper in the 11 years we’d been married.
I turned to watch Sebastian. He dove through the waves, swimming strongly. I caught glimpses of him, silvery in the sea as he bodysurfed back to the beach. He saw me watching him, waved once and disappeared into the ocean again.
I lay back in the sand, a strange sensation of happiness filling me.
My underwear, however, was uncomfortably damp. I slipped off my bra and spread it out in the sunshine, then lay on my front, the coarse sand doing a better job of exfoliation than any expensive beauty salon.
The sun was deliciously warm on my back and I began to doze, lulled by the rhythm of the waves.
“You look so beautiful like that.”
Sebastian’s words roused me gently. His hands, however, were chilly.
“Whoa! Cold hands!”
He laughed out loud, a happy carefree sound.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”
“You didn’t try,” I muttered petulantly.
“No, not really,” he admitted. Then his voice was serious. “I want to touch you, Caro.”
“I know. I want that, too. But we have to wait.”
He groaned. “I’m going to go crazy!”
“And it’s not even a full moon.”
“I’d love to see you in moonlight,” he said, softly.
His sudden change of tone made me look up. What his words did to me. No one had ever spoken to me like that. It was all so new; I was adrift in a sea of unfamiliar feelings, as innocent as Sebastian in one way at least.
I shifted my shoulders and rolled them awkwardly; I’d been lying on my front for some time.
“Are you okay?”
“Just a little stiff.”
“Shall I give you a massage?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“You know why,” I said, patiently.
“I think I’ll risk it,” he said and reached out, sweeping my hair from my neck, massaging my shoulders and back, running his strong, supple fingers along my spine.
The feelings that his touch ignited.
Then he knelt across me and pressed down with more force, loosening my tight muscles but stoking the flames that burned within me.
Without warning he leaned forward, kissing the nape of my neck.
I groaned and his weight pinned me down. I could feel the cool skin of his chest on my back, the chilly dampness of his sea-soaked cut-offs against my backside.
“Oh, hell!” he said suddenly, throwing himself down next to me and squeezing his eyes shut.
“What’s the matter?” I said, concerned.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Tell me!”
“I’ve got another boner,” he admitted, sounding embarrassed.
I laughed with relief. “I did warn you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He paused. “Are you sure we couldn’t…?”
I groaned again. “Stop trying to tempt me. When you talk like that…I feel like there should be a booming voice coming down from the sky pointing a fiery finger at me saying, ‘The devil is at your elbow, my child’.”
“Oh, come on, Caro! Four months, I mean…four months!”
He had a point. But so did I, and the thought made me miserable.
“Let’s eat something,” I said brusquely. “Could you pass me my bra, please?”
He didn’t reply.
“Sebastian?”
“No,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to give you your bra.”
“Oh for goodness sake. Fine!”
I sat up and brushed sand off my breasts, stomach and arms, aware that his gaze was pinned to me.
My bra was still damp and my nipples hardened automatically as I slipped it on. I glanced across to see Sebastian’s eyes wide and wanting. It made me feel like a goddess.
“You might want to put your eyes back in before they roll down the beach,” I said sarcastically.
“It would be worth it,” he said, his tone matching mine.
I shook my head to hide a smile; he really was incorrigible.
We ate our subs which, by this time, were rather warm and limp. The sweet soda set my teeth on edge. A bottle of chilled Sauvignon Blanc would have been perfect. Then it occurred to me that Sebastian wasn’t even allowed to drink alcohol for another three years.
His youth and our age difference kept booby-trapping my happy thoughts. Everything had a price: every glance, every kiss, every stolen touch. It seemed desperately unfair—I didn’t want to live without love. Why should I?
“Hey, where did you go just now?” he said softly.
“Nowhere as nice as here and now,” I said honestly, and sighed.
“It’ll be okay, Caro, I promise,” he said.
Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
“I think it’s time to leave,” I said sadly. “I have to buy some groceries and…” my words trailed off.
I didn’t want to taint him with the dreary trivia of my life with David.
“Okay,” he said, trying hard to keep his voice neutral.
He stood up and offered me his hand. But he took me by surprise when he crushed me to his chest and kissed me fiercely, an edge of desperation in the way his hands tightened around my waist. I kissed him back, matching his urgency, the specter of separation hanging over us, our own invisible sword of Damocles.
When he released me, when I could bring myself to let him go, there were no words. Solemnly I reached for my wrinkled clothes and Sebastian pulled his t-shirt over his head, then collected up the abandoned food wrappers to deposit in the nearest trashcan.
It was a strangely domestic scene, at odds with the sudden tension we both felt.
We walked back to my car, each wrapped in the emptiness of our thoughts.
“So, I’ll see the guy about that job with Ches?” he said at last.
“Yes, good idea,” I murmured, trying to dispel the image of large tips from older women.
“Do you still want me to read your ideas for some more articles?” he said hesitantly.
“Oh, yes, please. I’ll email them to you.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Maybe that’s not a good idea. What if your parents saw that I’d been emailing you?”
He shook his head. “Mom doesn’t know how to program the washing machine, let alone check my email. And Dad,” he glowered, “he doesn’t know my password.”
“Well, okay, then,” I said, reassured.
“What about David?” he said. “Does he read your email?”
I had a horrible thought that he probably did and Sebastian saw the doubt reflected on my face.
“Bastard!” he said viciously. “Set up a Hotmail account, Caro, and email me from there.”
“Okay,” I said faintly.
“And you’d better turn your phone off when he’s there so I can still text you, or he’ll want to know who’s sending messages. Then check in when you can.”
I was so bad at the practicalities of an affair. I wondered absently where Sebastian had learned such expertise. But then, I supposed, with two controlling parents, evasive tactics were fundamental to survival.
He looked at me, frowning.
“Are you okay, Caro?”
I nearly laughed.
“It’s just that I’ve never…done anything like this.”
“Like this?”
“Had an affair.” I blushed saying the words.
“Don’t say that,” he said heatedly. “That’s not how I think about us, Caro.”
I sighed. “Neither do I—but that’s what people would call it, if they knew.”
“I don’t care about anyone else,” he said, fiercely. “Just you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned my head on his shoulder. I felt his body relax slightly.
“It’s going to be a long weekend,” he muttered, “not being able to see you.”
“You could come to our soirée.” I laughed mirthlessly. “Your parents will be there. David has invited all the right people.”
“Perhaps I will,” he said, quietly.
I looked up at him, horrified. “No! I was teasing. You mustn’t. I couldn’t…if you were there I know I’d give myself away.”
“But I could make sure that the asshole doesn’t touch you,” he snarled.
“Sebastian, no. I mean it.”
He scowled at me belligerently.
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Stop it!” I said, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me go.
“I can’t wait four months, Caro,” he said, almost desperately.
I felt panicky, but at the same time, aroused by his need.
“We have to,” I said, barely able to think coherently. “You know what they’d do to me.”
He sighed and pulled me closer.
We’d survived another 24 hours, but it was getting harder.
I drove back with one hand in his. That small connection meant so much.
As was fast becoming our routine, I dropped him off several blocks from his home. I hated that moment of desolation when he slammed shut the passenger door and I accelerated away from him: it felt so wrong.
David’s sulk had finally come to an end. Whether this was because he was over his irritation or because we had a social engagement to live up to, I couldn’t say. It made things both easier and harder.
I dreaded the nights the most; that moment when he sank onto the bed. If he picked up one of his journals I could relax; if he didn’t…
After dinner and after he’d spent a couple of hours in his study doing God knows what, evening had passed into night.
I was already in my nightgown when he strolled out of the bathroom and eased himself onto the bed. The journal remained on his bedside table. He looked at me expectantly.
I tried to ignore him and he frowned.
“Is everything ready for tomorrow, Caroline?”
“I need to go to the store in the morning for a few things.” Everything, in fact.
“That doesn’t sound very organized.”
“I wanted the ingredients to be as fresh as possible.”
He grunted, then moved his hand down to his dick, pulling it out of his PJ pants and stroking it suggestively.
“I’m a little tired tonight, David,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“So am I. I’ll sleep better and so will you. Come here.”
I took a deep breath. “No, David. Not tonight.”
He looked irritated. “Well, the least you can do is relieve me, Caroline.”
I closed my eyes, but closing my mind to the sounds and sensations was not so easy.
When he was finished, I walked into the bathroom to wash my hands and stared at my impassive reflection in the mirror. David was already asleep by the time I could face going back. I stood looking down at him, wondering: who was this man I’d married? Why had he married me? Had there ever been love? I knew I had never felt this way before, the way I felt when I was with Sebastian. Was David happy? I knew he was frustrated by not having climbed the career ladder with the speed and success of other men. He didn’t have friends; he networked with people who could be useful.
I lay awake for a long time, refusing to cry. I’d made my bed.
Saturday started with a guilty dash to the large, out-of-town grocery store.
David had enticed his colleagues with promises of fine Italian cuisine—I doubted it was his sunny personality and winning ways that made so many people desirous of attending our supper party—so fine cuisine was what I had to supply. All homemade. David wouldn’t allow anything pre-prepared—he liked to see me busy in the kitchen.
I checked my phone as soon as I left the house but there were no messages from Sebastian. I decided to text while I was out and hoped that’d he’d reply quickly while I dared to leave my phone on.
* Am shopping but thinking of you. Cx *
I was stupidly happy when he replied immediately.
* I think of you all the time. xx *
I read the simple message three times and then, with a sigh, deleted it. Now I had groceries to buy: I had to be that person—David’s wife.
Ninety minutes later I staggered into the house, bowed under the weight of a multitude of loaves and fishes, and unloaded all the grocery bags into the kitchen. David was doing something in his study—he was too busy and important to help me. I hoped I’d bought enough for the 35 people I was expected to feed.
At noon I made him a quick sandwich and delivered it express. I surprised him. He snapped shut the lid of his laptop as I entered, but not before I’d seen that he was playing card games. Yeah, too busy to help me. Not that I cared anymore, but it was another irritant. I realized my tolerance levels were being eroded—every moment I spent with Sebastian made the long hours with David more unbearable.
By early evening I was exhausted. I’d been standing in the kitchen all day and I felt tired and bad-tempered. David wandered in fresh from the shower and eyed the buffet table with the air of a lord surveying his fiefdom.
“You’re not ready,” he said, gazing at me in my flour-stained, rumpled apron.
“I’ve just spent seven hours cooking, David.”
“You look like it.”
I turned on my heel. He couldn’t even bring himself to say a simple ‘thank you’ or that the food looked damn fine, which it did. Bastard.
I thought again about Sebastian’s words: four months. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t last that long either.
Then I saw that the dress I’d laid out to wear tonight had slid off the bed. David would have had to step over it three or four times as he’d moved around the bedroom, but he’d left it in a crumpled heap.
His pettiness filled me with sudden fury. I supposed his childish behavior was punishment for not fully attending to his needs last night. Whatever the reason, I felt a small kernel of real dislike hardening in the pit of my stomach.
I showered quickly, running through all the angry words I wanted to spit in his face; words that were getting harder to bite back.
Once I’d dried my hair, I swept it up into a simple chignon—one of the few arts of graceful dressing that I learned from my mom—then slipped on my favorite, if slightly wrinkled, terracotta cocktail dress, and cream pumps.
I was applying some gloss lipstick when I heard the first car pull up outside, followed by David’s hysterical yell for me to be front and center in the living room.
Tempted as I was to keep him waiting, it just wasn’t worth his prima donna overreaction later. He always found a way to exorcise his pique. It occurred to me that over the next few months it would behove me to be a model wife—it would certainly make life easier, but I severely doubted I was up to the challenge. But not when I felt like stabbing him with a pastry fork.
The early arrivals were a Commander Dawson and his wife Bette, a well-dressed couple in their mid-thirties who radiated curiosity, looking at me, the food, the house, our fixtures and fittings with such avid eyes, I wondered if they’d try to sell it on the home-shopping channel.
Then four people arrived together: two single officers and a couple called the Bennetts who were friendly and easy-going, greeting me kindly and ooh-ing and ah-ing over the food.
By the time Donna and Johan arrived, the house was filling up and people spilled out into the yard, the pleasant hum of chat drifting on the summer air.
“Darling Caroline. You look beautiful, as always,” said Donna, kissing me on the cheek and holding my hands. “It’s so good of you to have everyone over so soon after moving in.”
I felt she was trying to convey some sort of message with her words, but I just smiled and nodded, and accepted a quick peck from Johan, whose eyes were fixed expectantly on the buffet.
Donna hooked her arm through mine and asked how I was settling back into the old neighborhood.
“I hear you’re taking up your journalism again,” she said.
“Oh?” I was surprised. I hadn’t broadcast the fact and I doubted David would have mentioned it to anyone.
She winked at me. “No secrets on the Base; you should know that, Caroline. I just happened to run into Shirley Peters and she told me you’d been out with Mitch and the boys.”
“Oh, I see.”
Donna didn’t mind mixing with the wives of enlisted men. Good.
The doorbell rang again and I was saved from having to move the subject away from Mitch and surfing.
“Duty calls,” I said, rather too glumly.
Donna flashed a warm smile and released my arm, promising that we’d ‘catch up’ later. I was sorry that I’d have to avoid her instead—I liked Donna, but I couldn’t afford to be friends with her. Not now.
Sebastian’s parents were standing at the door when I opened it, Estelle’s face set in the rictus smile she reserved for social occasions; Donald muttered some platitude and pushed his way inside.
Over Estelle’s shoulder, I saw Sebastian sitting behind the wheel of the Hunters’ car. I was caught off-guard and something about my expression caused Estelle to turn to see what I was looking at. She smirked.
“It seems that having a child can be useful after all,” she said. “Who knew? Anyway, it saved us a fight over who got to drink tonight.”
“Is he going to wait outside all evening?” I asked, the concern a little too evident in my voice.
“Oh no,” she said, off-handedly. “He’ll come when we call him.”
He’s not a pet dog!
She turned away and walked into the house; Sebastian and I were left to stare at each other across the expanse of driveway.
He gave me the briefest of smiles then reluctantly pulled his eyes away from mine. I watched until the car had disappeared from sight. My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and walked back inside.
I spent the rest of the evening being polite and a good hostess, but anxiety strained my nerves to the point where I felt I’d scream.
“Are you all right, Caroline?” said Donna sympathetically. “You seem a little out-of-sorts.”
I laughed, trying to control the quaver in my voice. “It’s just been a long day. I feel like I’ve been cooking forever.”
It was a lame excuse and I didn’t think she’d fallen for it. But, thoughtful as ever, she accepted my words at face value.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve set the standard now. It’s all absolutely delicious. I don’t know how you do it: cook, write, and look after David.”
She glanced over to where he was holding court, extolling the virtues of white Port over other fortified wines. I knew for a fact he’d looked up the salient points earlier that day on the internet…in between playing cards. David knew nothing about wine. He hated the fact that I did. Was there anything he liked about me? Oh yes, my cooking.
I heard a loud crash and turned in time to see the remains of the food I’d so carefully prepared cascade to the floor in a shower of crumbs and broken pastry.
The worse for wear, Donald Hunter had blundered into the buffet table and was being supported by Commander Bennett and one of the officers whose name I couldn’t remember.
The room was equally divided between those who stared at Donald and those who stared at me to measure my reaction.
“I guess that’s what you call laying on the buffet,” I said, with a resigned shrug.
A ripple of laughter eased the sudden tension in the room and Donald was escorted into the yard, presumably to sober up.
Donna squeezed my arm. “I didn’t know you were mistress of the oneliner, Caroline.”
Mistress? If only you knew.
“Let me help you clear that mess,” she continued.
Several of the women and a few of the men volunteered to help shovel up the ruined food. Not David, of course. Nor Estelle, who stood with her back to the scene her husband had caused.
“What a waste,” said Donna, sighing. “I admit I had my eyes on a box of takeout.”
I smiled ruefully and was about to reply when we heard raised voices out in the yard. Donna’s eyes hardened, and she shook her head with annoyance. I saw her exchange a look with her husband, who nodded slightly and headed outside.
“The Hunters,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “Donald never could hold his liquor. I wonder how they’re getting home.”
“Estelle said that Sebastian was driving them.” I answered a fraction too quickly and Donna threw me a quizzical look.
“Hmm. I’d better give him a call,” she said, pulling a cell phone from her purse and scrolling through the numbers.
I couldn’t control the riot of emotions that flooded through me: I would see him. Soon.
The argument outside ended abruptly. I suspected Johan had managed somehow to calm the situation; I knew it wouldn’t have been David. He was far too cowardly to go up against a man like Donald Hunter.
During a tense few minutes while the Hunters snarled at each other across the barbecue pit, I chewed anxiously on my lip. I wasn’t the only one—several guests looked dubious, as if the latent violence, so evident in the couple’s venomous scowls, would erupt at any moment.
For different reasons, we were all relieved when the Hunters’ car drove up and Sebastian climbed out.
Seeing his beautiful face, drawn for now with a serious expression, some of the tension left me. Just having him so close, albeit untouchable, made me feel safe.
“Well, if it isn’t my son and heir,” sneered Donald. “Although it’s not son and hair anymore, is it, son?”
Donna snorted with disgust and my hands clenched involuntarily; I wanted to rip Donald’s vile tongue from his head.
“Just get in the car, Dad,” said Sebastian, quietly.
I was probably the only one there who could hear the tone of suppressed rage.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” snarled Donald, lurching toward his son, his fist raised.
Johan grabbed his arm but Sebastian didn’t move an inch—he just continued to look at his father impassively.
“Take it easy, Don,” said Johan. The note of authority in his voice might have had some effect on someone who’d had less to drink.
Donald just laughed mirthlessly.
“You’re lucky you haven’t got a fucking useless deadbeat for a son, Johan,” he spat.
“Maybe that’s because he takes after his father,” slurred Estelle spitefully.
“It’s all your fault!” shouted Donald. “You’re too fucking soft on him! You’ve turned him into a fucking faggot! English Lit and Italian: that’s what he wants to study at college, for fuck’s sake!”
Johan gripped Donald’s arm and, with the help of another guest whose name I couldn’t remember, steered him toward the car. Estelle wobbled after him, still throwing barbed comments.
Sebastian’s expression hadn’t changed, but his cheeks burned with a tell-tale flush of anger.
“Show’s over,” said Donna. “We’ll let these folks go take a nap.”
But the ill-tempered display had cooled the party mood and the other guests started to make their apologies and go. I wasn’t sorry to see them leave.
I stared at Sebastian, desperate to go to him, but unable to move. I simply hoped he knew how much I wanted to.
The ghost of a smile touched his beautiful mouth and then he turned to help load his inebriated parents into the family car.
Donna joined me, watching the unpleasant display as the senior Hunters continued to snipe and bicker.
“Gee, I’m sorry about your party, Caroline.”
“At least no one will forget it,” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.
She smiled. “No, I guess not. You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Really,” I added, seeing the skeptical look on her face. “Please thank Johan for…well…everything. You, too.”
She squeezed my arm. “Our pleasure, Caroline. You be well now.”
It was only when the final guest had left, and I’d cleared the last of the debris from the kitchen, that I realized how drunk David was.
“What a fucking disaster, Car’line,” he said, leaning against the door frame, watching me.
“It was fine except for the Hunters’ little scene,” I said reassuringly. “And no one will worry about that.”
“You really are stupid, aren’t you, Car’line? I’ll be a fucking laughing stock. At least you’re good for one thing.”
He tried to grab me but I dodged out of his reach.
He frowned, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
“Come here,” he ordered.
“I think you need to sleep now, David,” I said, my heart beginning to sprint as adrenaline flooded through me.
“What I need, Car’line, is a fuck. And you’re my wife.”
I tried to swallow but my mouth was suddenly dry.
He took another step toward me. I turned and ran into the darkened yard, listening to his curses, a loud crash, and then sudden silence.
Cautiously, I peered into the pool of light spilling out from the kitchen. David was sprawled on the floor and across the doorway: out cold. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I tugged at his arm, trying to pull him across the threshold so I could close the door to the yard. He grunted, but his dead weight was too much for me. I stared down at him, wondering how the hell I’d move him.
Nervously, I stepped over his prone body then ran into the bedroom to get my cell. I hesitated briefly before pressing ‘call’.
He answered instantly.
“Caro! Are you okay?”
My answer was a slightly hysterical laugh.
“Yes, I’m fine, but David is out cold and I can’t move him. Will you come? Can you get away? Are Donald and Estelle…?”
“Sleeping it off,” he said with disgust. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” He paused. “I’m glad you called me, Caro.”
He hung up before I could reply.
With my adrenaline rush over, my knees gave way and I sagged to the floor and sat staring warily at David.
When I heard a car outside, I pushed myself up and staggered to the door.
I opened it and without speaking Sebastian gathered me into his arms. I leaned weakly against his chest as he stroked my hair. I felt both calmed and reassured.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said, his voice a soft murmur against my ear.
“I am now.”
He sighed then straightened up. “Where’s the asshole?”
I nodded toward the kitchen and followed him into the house.
David was snoring loudly.
“Just like my parents,” he said, his voice hot with dislike. “Where do you want me to put him?”
“Can you help me get him to the couch?”
“Sure.”
Sebastian rolled him into a sitting position and hooked his hands under David’s arms. I grabbed his legs awkwardly and together we managed to half-carry, half-drag him into the living room and deposit him on the couch.
While Sebastian arranged my comatose husband into the recovery position, I fetched a spare blanket from the closet and threw it over him loosely.
“That’s more than he deserves,” muttered Sebastian. I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear.
Then he looked directly at me; such a burning, scorching look that I couldn’t breathe. He stepped forward.
“Not here,” I whispered. “Not with him here.”
Sebastian didn’t take his eyes from mine but he nodded slowly.
“Where?”
I hesitated. “Can we take your car?”
“Of course. My parents won’t miss it.” His lips curled with distaste. “They’ll be out for hours. As well as…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence.
Gently, he took my hand and led me to the car, opening the door and leaning across to fasten my seatbelt. He kissed me softly on the lips and grinned at my startled expression.
For the first time that evening, I smiled a genuine, happy smile.
“So, where to, ma’am?”
I shook my head. “Anywhere. Nowhere. Somewhere. I don’t care—just as long as it’s with you.”
“The beach?”
“Perfect.”
We drove in silence through the night, the tension slowly mounting between us.
Fate had thrown us together: who was I to deny it? No, that wasn’t right. I simply no longer cared. I had chosen—willingly, knowingly, deliberately. I chose love over law. And I didn’t care.
Finally, Sebastian stopped the car on a remote stretch of road and cut the engine.
“I always wanted to see you in the moonlight,” he said softly. “I didn’t think you could look more beautiful.”
He reached over and touched my cheek, running one cool finger down the line of my jaw.
I captured his finger in my mouth and bit it gently, teasing him with my teeth. He gasped, then held his breath, his eyes closing.
“Oh, God, Caro!”
Air hissed through his lips.
The sound was beyond arousing. I wanted him. I needed him.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and his, sliding onto his lap, taking him by surprise again. I ran my fingers over the soft bristles of his hair as he wrapped his arms behind my back and pulled me to him. I kissed him deeply, my tongue pushing between his lips, stroking his, and he returned the kiss with ferocity. I felt him hardening beneath me and I knew I wasn’t going to deny him again—or deny myself.
His tongue was urgent in my mouth, tension and ardor in equal amounts, pouring out of him.
When I pulled away I was breathless.
Oh, fuck, no! I couldn’t, damn it! I’d already taken Plan B once: I didn’t want to have to take it again—especially not so soon after the last time. Was I ever going to remember the basics?
“Caro!” he moaned.
“I know. I want you, too. But we can’t. I’m not on the pill.”
His eyes flared and he reached for me again, then stopped.
“You’re not? But…”
“No…I…took care of…last time.”
“What?”
“I got some emergency contraception, Sebastian.”
“Oh.”
It was clear he didn’t know what to say to that. I dropped my gaze and shifted uncomfortably. He winced.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
I tried to move off him, but he broke the awkward silence first.
“I… I’ve got condoms,” he said, his voice uncertain.
I blinked in surprise. Had he been expecting this to happen—or just hoping? I decided either way, it didn’t matter. I wanted him.
“Oh, right. Good.”
I scrambled off his lap and leaned back on my seat, my eyes wide. He reached inside his jeans pocket and pulled out a small pack, then stopped again.
I didn’t know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do but I’d never put a condom on a man in my life. My uncertainty turned to pity as I stared at the stricken expression on Sebastian’s face.
I leaned toward him and ran my hand up his thigh, feeling the denim worn smooth with a thousand washes, then over his erection, tracing the outline greedily. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
I unbuttoned his jeans and his eyelids fluttered but remained closed. I licked my lips, and slowly tugged down the zipper. He moaned softly as I let my hand explore through his boxer briefs. Then I pulled him free and ran my hand down his length. When I looked up, his eyes were burning into me, hot with desire.
Emboldened, beyond bold, I leaned forward, resting my hands on his thighs. I took him in my mouth and moved down, taking him deeper in my throat.
He cried out softly, his hands gripping my shoulders.
I sucked gently and felt his fingers tighten, but it wasn’t enough for me; I wanted more. I sat up slowly.
“I want you inside me, Sebastian,” I whispered.
He nodded, wordless, his eyes blazing and naked.
In the darkness I felt around on the floor until my fingers touched the packet of condoms that he’d dropped moments before.
“I’ve never done this,” I said quietly.
I ripped open the packet and felt the smooth, slightly tacky, almost powdery texture. I frowned, wondering what that would feel like inside me.
“I’ll do it,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
I looked up, surprised. “You know how to?”
He looked embarrassed. “Just…you know…for practice. Not with a girl or anything.”
“Oh. Okay.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. Under the circumstances, being prepared was coming in handy.
He reached down to his jeans.
“Wait: I want to see you.”
I pulled the hem of his outer garments to emphasize my point.
I saw his throat move as he swallowed and he closed his eyes briefly, then with one, swift move he hauled his t-shirt and sweatshirt over his head, and tossed them onto the rear seat. He kicked off his sneakers, lifted his hips quickly and pulled his jeans and briefs out of the way.
His skin was silver in the moonlight and I longed to run my hands over every inch of him. But, patiently, if greedily, I watched as he pinched the nipple of the condom with one hand, placing it at his tip, then, he held it firmly in place, and rolled it down his length with the other.
He looked so beautiful and so vulnerable, gloriously naked and trusting. I reached under my dress, pulled my panties down, and wriggled out of them.
Taking a deep breath, I climbed awkwardly onto his lap, facing him, and rested my hands on his shoulders. The steering wheel dug in my back and I wondered briefly if this would be easier on the passenger side, but I didn’t want to unsettle him, us, with more fumbling. And I wanted him. Oh, God, I wanted him.
I ran my right hand down his chest and he shivered under my touch. I could feel his heart beating a frantic tattoo and I knew he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. God, what a feeling.
Moving as carefully as I could in the cramped conditions, I positioned myself over him. Our eyes locked for a second, then I reached down and gripped his erection with one hand, and lowered myself down onto him.
He groaned loudly but I was lost in the sensation of feeling him deep inside me once more. I clenched around him and he gasped, a fleeting look of astonishment on his face. I gripped him again and his eyes flew open.
“Oh, God, Caro!”
I kissed him deeply and his responding ardor scorched me. He ran his hands up my thighs, bunching the material of my dress around my waist so he was cradling my ass, caressing the flesh with his fingers.
Moving my hands to his shoulders, I raised myself off him and watched with delight as his eyes closed and he groaned again. As I slid back onto him, he flexed his hips upwards and I gasped as he thrust into me.
Every nerve ending in my body felt aroused and needy and grateful. I rose and fell again, more urgently, and with each movement he thrust into me.
Sweat broke out across my body as I moved faster and faster. My thigh muscles burned from the awkwardness of the position, but I was barely aware of the discomfort. My body began to tremble but then Sebastian called out, thrust deeply and stilled, burying his face against my chest, his hands still gripping my ass.
We sat locked together for some moments before his eyes opened and he looked up at me. He smiled. It was like seeing a sunburst in the darkness and my heart leapt.
“Caro,” he said.
Then, still smiling, he closed his eyes and leaned back, pulling me to him. We lay wrapped in silence.