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“I was hoping you
’d say that.”

He picked me up out of the chair and carried me into the bedroom. I fastened my arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.

“Ugh, you’re all sweaty!” I complained.

“Yeah? Any objections if I get you all sweaty, too?”

“None whatsoever.”

And those were almost the last words we spoke for the next two hours, although I may have moaned his name several times.
We got through three condoms and had seven orgasms between us.

I was a wreck, and I had
no one but myself to blame. All my teasing and taunts had had quite an effect on the Chief. It was time to pay or play: I did both.

“Oh my God, I can
’t move!” I gasped.

“
Fuck!” said Sebastian, who was somewhat less loquacious than usual.

I lay there panting for several mo
re minutes. I felt the bed move, but I was too exhausted to open my eyes.

“I know you
’re looking at me, Sebastian,” I grumbled, “but whatever you have in mind you can just forget it. I admit it all: you’re an animal in bed, and I will never, ever question your virility again.”

He laughed softly.

“You can question it as often as you like, baby, because that just means I have to prove it to you.”

He
dragged the sheet over us, and pulled me into his arms, where I flopped unattractively.

“Do you want to go find something to eat?” he said.

“Go? As in, leave the room? No, no. Bad, bad idea. Call takeout.”

“I don
’t think they deliver to naked people in hotel rooms, Caro.”

I groaned.

“Come on, baby, time to get up.”

“I can
’t,” I whined.

He left me lying in bed while he showered; I was nearly asleep by the time he returned. I heard him moving around the room, dressing and pulling on a pair of sneakers instead of his biker boots.

He sat on the bed next to me, and I realized he was holding my pink T-shirt in his hands.

“Not your
color, Sebastian,” I mumbled.

“No, baby. I want you to wear it.”

“Why?”

“You look cute in pink.”

Oh!

“And I got you something while I was out.”

I sat up, ignoring several aching muscles.

“You got me something?”

I could hear the excitement in his voice, and he handed me a shopping bag from a woman’s clothing store.

“You bought me clothes?”

“Just look in the goddam bag, Caro!”

I reached in and m
y hands fastened around a small piece of folded cloth: black with a design of tiny, pink flowers embroidered along one edge. It was a skirt; a miniskirt; a
very short
miniskirt.

I was astounded. Was this how he saw me?
Barely-there bikinis and micro-miniskirts? These were the clothes a twenty-year old would wear; they weren’t right for me. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part.

“Don
’t you like it?” he said, sounding hurt.

“Sebastian, I… it
’s very pretty, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s not really me. I’m more a jeans and T-shirt sort of person these days. Besides, I don’t have any shoes – I’ve only got my walking boots.”

He smiled, and pulled another bag out from under the bed.

Inside was a pair of soft, black leather ballerina flats. And in my size.

“Do you like them?” he said, anxiously.

I slipped them on my bare feet and held them out for him to look at.

“So, you
’ll wear the skirt?” he said, hopefully.

It seemed a small thing to do to make him happy.

“Yes, tesoro, I’ll wear the skirt.”

I carried my new outfit into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I was horribly afraid I
’d look like mutton dressed as lamb. Did all women with younger men feel like that? Like they had to dress to match the age of their boyfriend?

The skirt was so short, I could hardly bring myself to look at it; and I certainly woul
dn’t be able to bend over in it with any degree of modesty whatsoever.

I brushed my hair out and applied some of my newly purchased mascara and lipstick. I felt awkward and uncomfortable,
a fraud, like I was trying to be something I wasn’t.

But Sebastian
’s appraisal was very different from mine.

“Wow! I mean… wow! You look awesome, Caro. Really fucking sexy!”

He ran his hand up my bare thigh and cupped my behind.

“Mmm, this skirt is great: it
’s making me horny.”

“Thank you for my presents,” I said, primly. “But right now
, I need food more than I need your body, Sebastian.”

He smiled, kissed my neck, then
walked over to the door to hold it open for me.

“After you, baby.”

The evening air was still warm, although I suspected it would feel chilly later. I’d brought a sweater with me to wear, although there wasn’t much I could do to keep my legs warm, and I was wishing I hadn’t gone along with Sebastian’s whim. It didn’t help matters that two men walking in the opposite direction whistled at me and called out endearments – rather crude ones.

Sebastian scowled and started to turn, as if he was going to go after them.

“Oh no, eyes front, Hunter. You bought this skirt, and now you’re suffering the consequences: suck it up.”

He frowned, but let me lead him out of the danger zone.

When we found a pizzeria that we liked the look of, I couldn’t help noticing that Sebastian made sure I was seated so that my legs were hidden by the tablecloth. Talk about double standards; it was almost comical. And time for a new topic of conversation.

“What do you want to do tomorrow, Sebastian? Apart from spring your surprise on me?”

He grinned, his good humor instantly restored.

“I thought we could walk up to Capezzano Inferiore, take a look around. Even if there aren
’t any Venzis there, it would be kinda cool to see where your dad grew up, wouldn’t it?”

He was so sweet. A complete pain in the ass, but really sweet.

Our pizzas arrived, pepperoni for Sebastian, quattro formaggi for me; and he also ordered a light beer. Then he surprised me.

“Tell me about your place
in Long Beach, Caro.”

I didn
’t know why it surprised me: maybe because it didn’t seem to be part of ‘us’; maybe I’d been unconsciously avoiding it.

“Oh! Sure,
okay. Well, it’s small, a bungalow in an area called the West End. It was built about 90 years ago, and it was pretty beaten up when I bought it. I restored the porch at the front so I can sit out and watch the ocean, and in the winter the windows get covered in salt from the wind coming off the Atlantic. I have some really great neighbors, and they look after the place while I’m away. My friends like to come out from Manhattan on the weekends. You spoke to Nicole, she works in merchant banking; and then there’s Jenna, who’s a bitch-on-wheels attorney, but actually she’s really lovely; and Alice, she’s a Professor of literature at NYU. I met her when I was going to school there…”

I stopped suddenly.

“What’s the matter, Sebastian?”

He
’d stopped eating, and was staring at me with dark, angry eyes.

“How am I going to fit in with your life there, Caro? All your friends have these amazing
careers… and I’ll just be a jobless grunt with a high school diploma.”

“Sebastian, no!”

“You know what they’ll think: Muscles Are Required Intelligence Not Essential.”

“Hey!
No one will think that, and you know what? I don’t give a shit anyway. Sebastian, haven’t we had to listen to enough crap in the past to care less what anyone else thinks now? Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?”

He shifted in his seat
, but didn’t answer.

“Sebastian, do you love me?”

He looked up instantly.

“You know I do, Caro.
Sempre.”

“Then whatever happens, we
’ll deal. I vaguely remember someone saying that to me. Oh, wait, that was you a couple of days ago. Sebastian, the only thing my friends will care about is that I’m happy.”

I took his hand in mine.

“What about your plans to be a personal fitness trainer? And, jeez, Sebastian, we’ll be in New York: you could do something amazing with your language skills. Don’t go and get all shy on me now, Hunter!”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry. I just kinda freaked for a moment there.”

“I know and I understand. It
’s weird for me, too, and we haven’t been doing this for very long. I guess you could say we’re out of practice with the whole dating thing. I feel very un-me sitting here in this shockingly short miniskirt, but I tried it, for you.”

“Shockingly short?” he said, his grin returning.

I took his hand under the table and let him run his fingers up my thigh.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “shockingly short.”

“Okay, Columbus, you’ve discovered enough for one evening,” I said, slapping his hand away as it began to travel even higher.

He pouted at me, and I laughed out loud.

“Come, tesoro, take me home.”

When we returned to our beautiful room, and our beautiful, large bed, Sebastian made sweet, slow love to me. Maybe it was the romantic setting, or the way we were gradually getting to know each other again and defeat our fears one by one, but the way he touched me seemed to have a new depth and intensity. I was dreading the moment, just a few days away, when we’d have to say goodbye. Again.

We woke
with yet another day of bright sunshine spilling in through the open windows.