Reading Online Novel

The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(248)



He smiled and stroked my cheek. “Kidding, Caro. That was fucking awesome. You were like some wild woman.”

“You were pretty wild yourself. But you’re right: I don’t know what got into me—other than you, of course. Do you want to go again?”

“Christ, Caro! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Hmm, death by orgasm. What do you think? A handful by morning?”

“If you want, Caro, but you know what I’d really like to do now?”

“Thrill me.”

He pulled me into his arms and looked at me seriously. “I want to make love to you, Caro. I freakin’ loved that, but it was just sex. Can we take it slow, baby? Take our time? I want to touch every part of your body.”

He kissed me gently and ran his hands across my shoulders and down to my waist, expressing with his hands what he’d told me in so many words.

His movements were tender and loving and gentle: there were so many different sides to this complex man. It was an education learning all his facets, and learning how trust was growing between us.

At last he fell asleep, his body curled around mine, his head resting on my chest.

As the night drifted past, and morning was just a breath away, I was reluctant to wake him. He’d missed a lot of sleep to take care of me the last two nights, and he needed to be alert. I waited until the very last possible second to wake him.

“Time to get up, Sebastian,” I said reluctantly, running my hands over the silky skin of his back.

He blinked and tried to stretch, but ended up kicking the door again.

“Very stealthy, Chief,” I remarked, watching him sit up and search for his briefs.

He grinned back at me. “Yeah, trained in stealth, camouflage and concealment, baby.”

“You were certainly concealed in me last night—several times, I seem to remember.”

“Did ya lose count, baby?” he smirked.

I didn’t bother to answer that one; instead, I had another question. “By the way, how come you’re managing to get in here without anyone noticing you’re not where you’re supposed to be?”

He frowned. “It’s not that hard—I’m kind of separate from everyone. I’m on attachment so none of them know me; I’m in charge of the other interpreters, but they’re all Afghan, so I’m not part of that either. It was different when I was still with my unit, but this way no one knows when or where I’m on duty. Except Grant, and he’s got more to worry about than where I sleep. Works out pretty well, huh, Caro?”

I realized that his job must be lonely on occasions, and spending time with me meant he wasn’t bonding with other members of the unit.

The military machine worked at its best when everyone knew their job and did it properly: lives depended on that. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t help thinking that men fought for their friends, for the guys in their unit, rather than for their country. That came into it, sure, but in this kind of guerrilla warfare, your life usually depended on the other guy you broke bread with. They were your family.

I looked up and saw that Sebastian was gazing at me, his head on one side, as if he was trying to read what was going on in my mind.

I smiled at him, hiding my concern.

“Time to move your ass, Sebastian. I’ll see you later?”

He kissed me quickly, and then darted out through the door. Half a minute later I saw him strolling casually across the compound, greeting some of the other men who were either waking up or coming off watch.

I yawned and stretched, and took a moment to freshen myself up with some more baby-wipes, before heading out to join the line for chow.

The day’s new gossip was that fresh rations would be dropped in by helicopter in the next couple of days. Other than the butt-clenching fear of being under fire, it was as exciting as things got.

I realized that if there was going to be a food drop, then there might well be mail, too. I decided I’d keep my promise to Sebastian and write him a letter.

Thankfully, the day passed far less eventfully than the previous one. I wasn’t sent out with Sebastian, but accompanied Lieutenant Crawley and a cheerful Afghan interpreter called Gawhar, who told me his name meant ‘jewel’. He was fascinated by the fact that I wasn’t married and didn’t have children. He kept asking who was ‘in charge’ of me. He couldn’t comprehend my answer of ‘no one’. I wouldn’t like to imagine how puzzled he’d be if he ever met a woman officer with men under her command. I hoped my presence gave him another point of view, at the very least.

Gawhar thought women should be educated “up to the age of 11”, so that they could be more useful in childrearing. At one time, women in Afghanistan had been able to go to college, but now anyone attempting to educate girls was living very dangerously. Gawhar’s attitude was relatively liberal, compared to many.