Don't You Need Somebody To Love?

After Mass, they went across the street to the parish hall for breakfast. Jim marveled at how everything seemed so normal, as if there were no war raging on the other side of the world. He thought back to his high school history class. World War II had affected everyone and yet, here, if they weren't watching the evening news... and even then...it wasn't real.

As they walked in, the cigarette smoke was so thick it was like a blue-gray fog from an old Sherlock Holmes film and he choked. "I..." he started to say, stopping at the door, flashing back to incoming fire along the Cambodian border. His father looked at him, afraid to say anything, still surprised that his son had come to church after being away for so long.

"If you'd rather..." his father started to say, wondering what his son would do, especially since he had brought Angelina. She stood there, holding Jim's hand tightly, feeling the momentary hesitation through his grip.

"No, that's all right. Just a little smoky." He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. Was he coming down with an allergy, he wondered, wiping his face with the cloth.

They sat down and the breakfast plates quickly appeared, brought by the cub scoutsin the troop sponsored by the parish, his old troop... simple food... pancakes, a couple of sausages, some orange juice and coffee. The Irish monsignor rose to give his welcoming talk and then the local congressman stood up to speak. Ten minutes into the man's prepared talk, Jim realized the politician did not have a single accurate idea about what was really happening over there. "Jesus H fuckin' Christ", he thought. "This dipshit is sending kids to get shot to shit and he doesn't have a clue."

That afternoon, Jim and Angelina had an early dinner with his parents. Jim could see them watching Angelina, wondering if she was the one that would bring him finally out of his malaise, finally bring him home from the war.

After dinner, Jim took her to see 'Butch Cassidy' playing in Torrance. Through the film, she held his hand, bringing his attention more to her touch than to the film on the screen and for a while, while 'Raindrops' filled the theatre, they kissed gently, then with more urgency as there was a climax both on and off the screen.

Two days later, Angelina was drawing slow, lazy circles in her chemistry book, hoping that the professor would speak faster... or, at least more interestingly. Sometimes, it was all magic to her, especially the lab work. Maybe, it was all in vain. Maybe, she was thinking too much about Jim. She decided to get a tutor, somehow.

She chose a brownie off the platter, moved toward him and held it up to his lips. "Taste."

Jim opened his mouth, felt his heart beat harder when she licked her lips, opening her mouth, too, unconsciously mimicking his moves. Her finger touched his lips and his mind went blank.

"Well?" she asked, waiting for his approval.

He had no idea what he had eaten, his entire attention on her face. "Delicious," he whispered, watching her tongue slide easily around her lips.

"Good. I feel better now," she replied, licking the chocolate crumbs from her fingers.

"What mix did you use?" he innocently asked.

"Shame on you," she pouted. "I don't use mixes. I make everything from scratch."

"Oh." Now, he felt bad, never meaning to insult her, wondering how to repair the damage he had done.

"Why? Did it taste like a mix?" She stared at the food laid out on the table, waiting to be wrapped up or packed in ice for the dinner at his parents' house. She looked as though she wished she had time to start over. Now, he felt horrible, knowing her nervousness was his entire fault.

"I always tell the truth, Angelina." The way he said her name made her shiver, her muscles tightening along her back. He said it softly, subtly, in that slow, deep voice that he had. She was beginning to anticipate his mannerisms, the way he talked, the way he moved, the way he sometimes smiled when he thought she wasn't looking.

She blinked. All that emotion over the simple use of her name... she couldn't remember when she had felt this nervous before and she tried to control her emotions. It had been so long, she knew, since she had felt this way about anyone, since her husband had died... truth be told, since before he had died.

"So, when did you do all this cooking?" He looked at all the food still lying on the table.

"I had trouble sleeping last night." Her face reddened slightly.

"Was there something wrong?" What was wrong? What had he done? Now, it was his turn to be nervous.

"No... oh, I don't know, just a thing, you know?" She pulled an apple pie from the refrigerator. "Here," she said, handing it to him to wrap in aluminum foil. "I remember your mother said your father liked apple pie."

They laid the food out on his mother's kitchen table. Angelina felt so at home with the Silvestris. They were warm and truly delighted to see her. She couldn't help but wonder if her own parents would have embraced Jim in the same manner, had they lived. She would like to think so. She wanted so much to have someone to confide in. She missed her mother so much that, for a moment, she caught a tear starting to form.

"This food looks delicious!" Mrs. Silvestri exclaimed, seeing all the food spread out before her. "You shouldn't have."

"Wait until you taste it," Jim replied, taking a brownie from the dish.

Angelina lightly slapped his hand. "You'll spoil your appetite," she remarked.

"Mmmm... no way." He kissed her cheek, causing her to blush in front of his parents. She looked at them. Did they know? Really know how she felt? She felt they would find out sooner or later; Italian families were notorious for knowing everything about everyone. She just hoped it would be later rather than sooner, that she'd have more of a chance to get to know them, to try and not make a bad impression.

Jim laid his hand on her shoulder, waiting until his mother moved to the dining room and sat down. "Everything is fine, Angelina. It's fine." His fingers ran across the fabric of her dress.

She felt a lump form in her throat and nodded. "Your mother could probably use some help finishing setting the table."

"No, looks finished to me," he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, grateful that he made it back from 'Nam, and picked up a tray laden with food and walked into the next room.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and she still hadn't truly settled in her heart how her life could be with him, with them.

He took the pie out of her hands and brought it to the dining table. "Apple pie for you, Papa, made special." He put the pie down in front of his father and returned to the kitchen to get the ice cream.

Returning to the dining room, he lightly touched her cheekbone, a light caress that was gone before she could appreciate it. He pressed his finger lightly over her lips and at that instant, time seemed to stand still. Angelina gazed into his beautiful amber eyes and felt as if he was looking deep into her soul. She wished she could understand him as well as he seemed to understand her.

Her heartbeat sped up and her hands trembled. His gentle touch had energized her, energized her and filled her with hope for the future.

Saturday, October 18, 1969

Angelina pressed her fingers to her lips, shushing him, tracing the curve of his lower lip, fire smoldering inside her. He kissed her fingertips before tucking her hand to his chest.

She caught Jim's arm. "I thought you were going to show me what you wanted to do with me." He settled on the bed, his gaze intense. She angled her chin at him. "I know what you want."

"I want you," he admitted, so different from what she had expected from him, "forever."

She bent and touched her mouth to his. He kissed her back, lightly at first, his lips soft and curious, as if he were kissing her for the first time. But when she touched her tongue against her lower lip, he curled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close to him, until her breasts flattened against his chest. He dropped his hands to her hips and pulled her into his lap, parting her thighs until she straddled him.

Heart racing, she slid closer, until the hard ridge of his erection pressed into her softness. A low whimper rose and died in her throat as his hips shifted upward in response.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered against her throat, his lips hot against her skin.

"Yes," she murmured.

He slid the hem of her dress upward, baring her skin to his touch. His thumbs stroked her inner thighs, sending white-hot need racing up her nerve endings. His hands moved slowly up her legs, until his fingers brushed the silk of her panties and she bit her lip as his face grew still and focused, his gaze following the movement of his hands against her flesh. His newfound intensity was both exciting and unnerving and she trembled wildly when one thumb found her moist center and began to stroke her through the fabric.

"Do you like that, Angelina?" he asked, his voice seeming to tremble yet full of strength. She couldn't find her voice but her wobbly nod made him smile. He started to withdraw his hand but she caught it in hers, holding him in place. With his free hand, he tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Slow down," he said. "This isn't a race."

He was so different from his normal self. What had happened, she wondered but then decided she didn't care, she was happy, no delirious with his new attitude. He didn't shift his gaze from hers but he ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, his fingers leaving a trail of fire that branded her though her dress.

He tugged at the dress' belt and pulled it loose, baring her flat stomach and the hollow between her breasts.

She took a swift breath through her nose as he lifted one hand to the lapel of her dress and pulled it aside, uncovering her right breast. He grazed his fingers over her nipple, sending a sharp ache through her body.

She didn't know if the heavy ache between her thighs was all her own or something she was sensing from him. She felt hot all over. Her skin prickled, perspiration glistening on her now bare skin. She touched the center of his chest and felt his heart racing and a feral restlessness settled in the pit of her belly, hot and tight.

Dipping his head, he covered one nipple with his mouth and sucked lightly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and held on, shaken by the electricity coursing through her body where his lips had touched.

Her husband had never caused her to feel like this before. What had come over her?

Jim slipped a finger inside her, laughing softly at her gasp. "You like that, don't you?"

Angelina was helpless to stop the slow thrust of her hips against his hand. "Yes, please..."

He kissed her breast. "I want you, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes," she breathed, her head falling back.

"That's it, baby, just let it happen." Between her legs, his fingers made magic and heat bloomed at her center beneath his touch. She felt hot, and her heart slammed hard and fast against her breasts as she rode an even higher wave of pleasure. She collapsed against him, her head resting in the curve of his neck.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked.

"No, don't stop, oh, God, don't stop."

He reached for the zipper of his pants. She caught his hands and pushed them aside, unzipping his pants herself, slipped her hands inside, closing her fingers around him.
"You like that, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied, wondering how he was so lucky to find a woman like this at the almost empty bar. "I like it a lot."

She took him fully in her hands. "How about this?" She helped him remove his pants and shorts and then he eased her panties down her legs, kissing her from hips to ankles and then back again and then he was inside her, pushing deeply over and over until he felt her tighten against him and then he sprayed hotly within her, once, twice, three times... It had been so, so long since he had been with a woman.

The second time was so, so much better... so, so much longer. "So... you'll be able to tutor me?" she asked, smiling.

Friday, November 14, 1969

"Holy shit! Did you see that?" Jim jumped up and ran to the television, kneeling down next to the screen and watching the Apollo spacecraft flying to orbit after being hit by a lightning bolt. 'What idiot decided,' he asked himself, 'to launch in the middle of a rainstorm?'

The tall white rocket continued to climb in the dark rainy sky on its way to the moon and for a moment, he held his breath, wondering if the astronauts were all right. He followed the mission as best he could until splashdown ten days later, even if they were all Navy men.

Two weeks later, it was Thanksgiving morning and Angelina was zipping up her dark brown dress when the front door bell rang. "Just a minute," she called out, knowing who it was. She practically ran to the door, swinging it wide open to greet her lover and as she put out her arms to him, he swept her close and kissed her deeply.

"I've missed you," he said. "Did you do your homework?"

"Just kiss me," she answered, pulling him even closer.

His hands moved down her waist, seeking an intimacy that just a while earlier, she would never have imagined, let alone allowed.

Angelina went back into her bedroom to finish dressing, choosing an amber bead necklace to highlight her dress. She began brushing her hair, over and over, pulling it taut and listening to it spark with static.

A touch reached her neck as he kissed her, moving slowly up and around to her jaw, bringing a newfound heat to her throat as he continued.

"We're going to be late," she said, her hand moving to hold his as it lowered its search to her breasts, holding them tight and close.

"They can wait," he countered, his fingers causing her nipples to tauten as they lightly rubbed through the fabric.

"Later, baby, please."

"All right," he said, moving away from her, acting disappointed but then starting to laugh. "You're right."

"It was nice of your parents to invite John and Maria." She could see his smile in the mirror as she went back to brushing her long hair.

The drive to Jim's house was quiet, only the rumble of the Hemi giving warning of their arrival. It seemed like there was something on her mind and she was debating whether to tell him or not. He glanced several times over to her, wondering if she was going to say something or not. It couldn't be that she was going to break up with him, she would have just said something, after all, not have Thanksgiving dinner with his family. She looked out the passenger window at the traffic and several times, he was sure she was going to say something.

He honked the horn as he pulled into the driveway and Angelina didn't wait for him to open her door, instead rushing into the house before he had finished rolling up the window. Strange, he thought. She always waited for him to walk her into the house, his arm around her waist, holding her close, tightly embracing.

He locked both doors of the car and walked into the house; his father was coming out of the kitchen with a Peroni in his hand, the Italian beer still ice cold from the Coleman cooler on the back porch. "Here," Silvestri said, handing the beer to his son. "Angelina and your mother are talking in the bedroom. Something I should know about?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "Beats the hell out of me. One minute she's...." He was interrupted by the doorbell and went to let in Angelina's cousins.

"Signor Silvestri, grazia per invitare ci alla cena." Maria held out a large bouquet of flowers to Jim's father.

"Prego."

"Pass the gravy, please."

The gravy boat moved down the table toward Maria, who had spent much of the dinner watching her cousin sitting next to Jim's mother. There was something passing between the two women, she was sure. What, though, she wasn't quite sure, but was determined to find out before too much time had passed.

"I'll have some more white meat, please," Jim said, looking at the turkey platter.

"Me, too," Angelina said, holding her plate up.

"Here," Jim said, putting three pieces of turkey breast onto her plate. She held the dish, waiting. He looked at her and put another slice on the dish. "Hungry?"

"Yes... mashed potatoes?" She held up her dish, again.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he answered, putting the turkey down and reaching for the potatoes.

Wednesday, December 24, 1969

Angelina thought every Italian in Los Angeles had decided to shop at the store at the same time. By lunchtime, having barely had a moment to draw a breath, she was definitely feeling frazzled. When offered the opportunity to work part-time for the Christmas holidays, she readily agreed, enjoying the time she spent with her lover. 'If only,' she thought, 'there'd be a free moment to kiss. If only...'

With still more than ten people standing in line to pay, she was working hard to ring up their purchases and have them out the door as soon as she could.

"Angela!"

She jerked her head toward the sound, making a sincere but futile effort to hurry toward Luigi, Jim's father, again. For some reason, the closer they were to Christmas, the more people that came to get their traditional Italian treasures and food, the more he became nervous.

"Uh, un momento, per favore..." she said with a smile as she glanced at the customers and turning away from the register, reached under the glass counter and pulled out a tray of Christmas cookies and small boxes of Torrone. "Per favore, piace..." she said, pushing the Italian sweets toward the women standing in line. She rubbed the small of her back, trying to ease an ache that had settled there about two hours earlier and had yet to disappear. Locking the register, she hurried to Mr. Silvestri who had been rapidly speaking in Italian to three older men, all standing with Peroni beers in one hand and cut sandwiches in the other.

"Oh, Angelina... could you stay later tonight? I know it's last minute but..."

For a moment, she couldn't bear the thought of waiting ten more minutes. "That's all right, Mr. Silvestri, of course." She hurried back to the line of customers, smiling an apology. The cookies and candy were all gone, leaving hints of powdered sugar still evident on the faces of several women. "Who's next?"

"Boy, I'm glad that's over... at least for now." Jim leaned against the wall, drinking from a bottle of Coke, his salami sandwich half-eaten in his hand. The fullness of her lips had his gaze returning to her face. "There won't be another rush until after five o'clock," he said, his voice low and teasing, "when the last minute people get off work and stop here on their way home. Thanks for staying."

"I couldn't leave, you know," she quietly said, watching him breathe, so gently, so strongly, so deeply. They touched and retreated, then touched again. He stroked against her. It was perfect and magic and she never wanted to stop.

"Promise?" he asked her. "I wanted to... ah, crap, here they come. They're early." After a couple of seconds, he left the wall he was leaning against to ring up the three Panettone cakes a white-haired lady was juggling against her bosom.

Angelina didn't ordinarily pay attention to the passage of time but today, Christmas Eve, the time couldn't pass fast enough.

The store finally closed at nine that evening. The truth was, she couldn't remember when she had had so much fun. There were no pretenses to keep up with Jim; he was just easy to be with and she knew she had fallen in love with him, something she had wondered if it would ever happen again.