“Well, okay. Let’s do that when you get back from this tour. Then we can really celebrate.”
“Let’s do it now,” he said, decisively. “There must be some place in Salerno you can get women’s stuff.”
“Stuff?!”
“Yeah, silky dress, stockings, high heels… stuff. And then I could undress you – slowly.”
His eyes heated at the thought, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Okay, I’ll do it if you do – dress up.”
He laughed. “Sure, if I can find somewhere that will rent me a tux, why not? It’ll make a change from being in uniform.”
Then he kissed me quickly, scooped me off his lap and set me back on the floor.
“We’d better get going. Got me a date planned with a really hot woman.”
Instead of traveling along the pretty coast road, Sebastian headed inland for the Autostrada del Sole, the highway that ran from Milan to Naples. It was terrifyingly busy, with huge trucks roaring too close to us, but the route was designed to get us to Salerno in the least amount of time. I clung on and gritted my teeth.
We stopped briefly just outside of Rome, at a café on the highway where they produced fresh pasta to restaurant standards, then carried on south, past Naples and on to our final destination.
Sebastian finally pulled up at the curb when we ran out of road. Behind us, the small town of Salerno clung to the cliffs, the buildings square and white with terracotta roofs, and glistening below them, the Mediterranean was azure in the afternoon sunshine.
He pulled off his helmet and stretched out his back before climbing off. I felt as if the bike was still in motion, and my ass had been molded into the shape of the saddle.
Sebastian grinned at me, then helped me take off my helmet. It was as if I’d been underwater and I could finally hear properly again.
“You alright, baby?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “How are you?”
“Yeah, good. Look, I think it might be easier to find a pensione or hotel in Salerno than in your dad’s village. We’re only a couple of miles away so we could easily shoot on over there in the morning. What do you think?”
“Anything that doesn’t involve getting back on your bike sounds good, Sebastian,” I grimaced. “My ass is numb already.n gr
He pulled me into a hug, and rubbed his hands over the portion in question.
“Better, baby?”
“Mmm, much.”
He kissed me lightly. “Come on then, let’s walk for a while. We’ll find a room – and a pharmacy.”
“Good to see you’ve got your priorities in order, Sebastian.”
“Trained by the Marines, baby, what can I say?”
We strolled through the sunlit streets, listening to the rumble of local traffic, which seemed to consist of crazy drivers in beaten up cars, and teenagers on scooters buzzing around. Everywhere, people chatted, gossiped, talked, yelled and waved their hands in the air, animated conversations surrounding us. It reminded me of Papa when he got excited, and I could imagine him as a child running down the hill from the village, and climbing back in the evening, dusty, tired and happy.
Sebastian slung his arm around my shoulders with casual possession, and I let my fingers creep around his waist.
It was too warm to wear the leather biker jackets for long, so we found a small pavement café and gratefully sat, relaxing in the sun.
“I could really use a beer,” said Sebastian.
I wasn’t sure if he was just commenting or asking my permission. Either way, I had something else in mind.
“This is the home of limoncello, Sebastian, the real thing – made with Sorrento lemons. I think we should try some.”
“Yeah!” he said, enthusiastically. “You used to make those amazing ones when I was a kid.” He frowned, and I knew what he was thinking – he didn’t like to be reminded of our age difference either.
I shrugged. “Sure, but these are alcoholic.” I glanced at him sideways and smiled. “We could order them with a pitcher of water, too.”