Jean Croce lay abed with his hands tucked under his head and the sheet down to his waist, his bare chest cooling as the sweat dried. A cigarette protruded from his lips, and he stared up at the ceiling of the rented room, watching the smoke rise into the diffuse afternoon light from the curtained window, toward the blades of the overhead fan turning lazily above him. From the adjacent bathroom came the soft sound of running water.
I should run, he thought. Throw on my clothes and get out of here. But the thought was as weightless and insubstantial as the smoke from the end of his cigarette. He felt more relaxed and at ease than he had in years.
The water cut off, and the door opened. He turned his head slightly to behold Sophia Durante standing in the doorway, a hand on each jamb, wearing, as the saying went, nothing but a smile.
He took in the sight with appreciation and an unaccustomed hunger. Sophia's dark hair brushed her shoulders softly, calling to his hands to run his fingers through. Her dark eyes were filled with tenderness and amusement as she watched him watching her. Her generous mouth looked made for smiling, as it was smiling now. The girl's body was slender and athletic without being overdeveloped; her belly unridged but defined and taut. Her smooth skin was half a shade darker than his, with faint but definite tan lines that drew the eyes to her secret parts; between her work and all the time she spent with him, where did she find an opportunity to sunbathe? His eye lingered on her thighs and the baby-smooth skin between.
She posed silently for him for a few moments, then said, "There's something on your face."
"Oh?"
"Yes. An expression. I think it might be a smile." She cocked a hip. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about how girls spend all their childhood and adolescence trying to be older - then when they finally become women, they want to look like little girls again."
"Is that a complaint?"
He removed the cigarette from his lips, exhaled a cloud, and put it back in his mouth. "Sophia, I have no complaints about you whatever."
"Why, I think that was meant as a compliment." She walked toward him with a slow, long stride, rolling her hips and trapping his gaze. When she reached the bed, she plucked the cigarette from his lips.
"Trying to change me already?"
"I think that's a fiancée's prerogative. But no." She put the cigarette between her lips, which surprised him, because she didn't smoke. Its tip glowed briefly as her cheeks hollowed to draw it without inhaling. She coughed once, releasing a tiny wisp of smoke, and ground the cigarette out in a saucer on a small table by the bed. "There, now I won't complain about the taste of your mouth." She planted a knee on the mattress and leaned over to kiss him. "It would be good if you'd quit though. I'd like to keep you for a long time."
"Oh? Then why have you been trying to kill me with sex for a day and a night?"
Sophia yanked down the sheet, exposing him to the ankles, and swung a leg over to straddle him. "I've wanted you from the moment I saluted you and looked in your eyes. I think I've been very patient. Gentling you without scaring you off is the hardest thing I've ever done." She placed her palms on his shoulders, smiling when his manhood rose again to press against her, and lowered herself to seat him firmly inside. She began rocking her hips, drawing him along. "When a man walks in off the desert, you don't give him a sip of water, do you?"
Thirty minutes later, he said, "How did you do this to me?"
She nibbled his ear. "I think the 'doing' was kind of mutual."
"Not this. How did you …" He groped for words. "How did you find a way…"
"Into your heart?" She kissed his jaw under his ear. "I just loved you, that's all. And I wouldn't let you push me away."
His left arm lay under her waist; he pulled her tight against him. "Marry me."
"I thought I already proposed, and you accepted."
I'm going to apply for discharge, she'd said as they sat almost touching hips on the rim of the town square's ornate fountain. It's just a job to me, but it's a career to you, and fraternizing with an enlisted could hurt your career.
I wouldn't let it, he'd said, not looking at her, throat tight, telling her as clearly as he could that she could never be first in his life, that he was a cold and selfish man whose own needs would always come first. She deserved the truth, he'd thought. He'd turned then, half expecting her to already be standing to leave, her face full of hurt and anger.
But she was wearing that damned knowing little smile that so exasperated and fascinated him. I know. But I have a plan. It's your duty to protect civilians. So I'll become a civilian, and you can protect me all you want. You can have your career, and I can have you.
That, he'd said, sounds like a very good plan. He'd put a hand to the back of her head, reaching for her for the very first time; she'd placed a hand on his knee, claiming him, and they'd kissed.
That had been weeks ago. Sophia had gotten her discharge and taken an apartment in town. She cooked and served at a small family restaurant, a job that suited her experience – both in the military and in her parents' shop - and her outgoing temperament. He sometimes took a meal there before picking her up, letting her fuss over him and enduring the giggles and whispers of the other female staff.
Their time together had been very proper at first. He'd sheltered behind his reserve, certain that this strange and wondrous girl would tire of the chase and find a more ardent and approachable man. Instead, her regard had grown ever warmer, and he'd found himself responding, against all his expectations.
Yesterday morning, Friday, he'd left the base on a weekend pass. He'd intended to spend the day with Sophia, then drive down to Rome to visit whoever of his family might be home. They'd sat together in their accustomed place at the fountain, and talked, and embraced, and kissed.
And he'd felt something loosen inside him, and he'd held her a little more tightly, and kissed her a little more firmly, and suddenly she hadn't been at his side anymore, but in his lap.
About time, she'd said, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tongue had forced its way into his mouth, and she'd kissed him as if she'd wanted to eat him alive. Sometime later, they'd separated, breathless, and she'd said, So, you finally see I don't need protection from you, do you? She'd taken his hand, and they'd walked two blocks from that fountain to her apartment, and hadn't left it since.
"Propose?" He said, sliding a hand down her flank to cup a buttock. "I suppose you did. But I'm a little old-fashioned."
"That's old money for you." She rested her head on his chest. "I'm so glad my future husband's chest is boyishly smooth. You don't shave it, do you?"
"And if I do?"
"Then keep it up. Much better than laying my head on a scratchy rug."
"You've done that, have you?"
"Jean, you're not that old-fashioned, are you?" She kissed his chest. "Neither of us came to this bed a virgin." Her tongue flicked his nipple. "I'm not going to ask you about your other women. I'm not going to tell you about the men who came before." Her lips slid down his abdomen, pausing just above the navel. "However many men there were, you should be grateful to every one of them for what they taught me." She continued downward.
Jean closed his eyes. "Oh, I am." He grunted. "Extremely."
Later, as he was scrubbing her back in the shower, he said, "We have to tell our families."
She sighed. "I was hoping to put off this discussion a little longer." She leaned back against him, her skin slick with soap, and he circled her in his arms.
"It won't be so bad." He ran the soapy cloth over her belly and breasts, raising her nipples.
"Oh, sure. How hard can it be, answering questions from the Chief Prosecutor of Milan?"
"He'll be easy. It's my mother and sister you need to worry about."
She sighed again. "What was I thinking, proposing to a man with a teenage sister? I'm sure she adores you."
"She saves her adoration for my brother. Her feelings toward me are more… proprietary." He reached lower with the rag, and Sophia parted her thighs with a little intake of breath. "What about your family?"
"Mmm. My parents will be very suspicious of you, at first. Upper-class, rich, an officer … they'll wonder what you really want from an island girl whose parents own a gift shop." She arched her back and pressed her shoulders harder against him.
"I'm sure their judgment won't be any harsher than my brother's." The stroking washcloth became firmer, more insistent.
"Fernando…" She fell forward to put her palms on the wall as he dropped the cloth and pulled her rear end tight against him. "When he sees how good you are to me, he'll treat you like a brother. Oh, God."
They ate dinner at a nearby restaurant with their legs tangled together under the table. As the espressos were served, he asked, "Would you like to take a little walk after dinner?"
"Just a little one," she said, "back to the hotel."
"Are we always going to act like rabbits from now on when we're together?"
"Jean," she said seriously, "I'm going to be an Army wife. We may be separated for weeks or months at a time. You need to prepare yourself for passionate reunions." Her ankle rubbed his calf. "We haven't talked about kids yet."
Jean set down his cup. "I don't think I would be much of a father."
"Because you don't think your father did it right?" She took his hand. "Guys never think they're ready for kids." She stroked his knuckles gently. "Jean, a man with a career, even a career that takes him away from home all the time, can still give a child love. You turned out far better than you think. You could be as good a father as you want to be."
He gave a tiny head shrug, not conceding the point, just setting it aside for now. "How many would you want?"
"Two, for a start." She lifted her cup and looked into it. "I suppose we might have started one already."
He sat a little straighter. "Sophia, we need to talk to our families right away. I won't have them misunderstanding the reason for our engagement."
Sophia's cup was still at her lips, but now she looked over the rim at him, dark eyes shining. "And that reason would be?"
He turned his hand to grasp her fingers. "That at last I've found someone I want to love."