Refined Adjustments Ch. 05

"I walk out, expecting an eye-catching extravagant car and what do I see? A typical man's car."

"Really," He said as he held her injured hand with his free one. "Enlighten me."

Once again her wrist shot with pain, but she quickly covered, not wanting Johnny to notice.

"Well, mainly cars like yours. Usually reckless sports cars, huge gargantuan monster trucks or SUV's with prodigious fronts. I think that men adore the feeling of being behind an eight cylinder monster that can easily pass other cars and put fear in the hearts of those who come near." She explained theatrically.

"Yeah well, great performance, but you know that saying that men adore the big and reckless cars is ridiculous," he said, turning and grasping the passenger seat as he backed into a parking space. "Technically, women are the same way and have your explanation as a reason. The only reason behind men getting fast cars is to gain women's attention."

"So why did you buy a Chevy Camaro SS, which is also known as sports car?" She asked, raising one brow at him. There was a brief silence.

"My reason is a completely different reason from my explanation."

They laughed as Johnny switched off the engine. He opened the door for her, again checking out the luscious view of her behind; absorbing it. Until she interrupted him once again.

"Wait, the beach? Are we at your place?" she asked, looking at him as he closed her door.

"How'd you know?"

"Jerome." She said looking back at him.

"Yes, but dinner is over there." He said as he took her hand and pointed to the restaurant at the top floor of the building that was a great distance from where they stood.

"Giovanni's" she said as she read the lighted sign. "Don't tell me y-you own this 'fine' establishment." She stammered.

"It's a family business, my uncle owns it." He said happily.

She stood petrified, still as a statue.

"Don't worry. It's just family." He said, putting his arm around her waist and leading her inside.

In the lobby, Nesca felt as if she would faint from anxiety. She tried to keep calm because she knew that she would act on impulse if she got too anxious: she zoned out and began to daydream.

************************************************************************

By the time they reached the elevator Nesca was all over Johnny.

"Whoa, Nesca, are you alright?"

"Sure, why?" She asked smoothing her good hand from his chest down to his crotch and gave it a jerk.

Johnny led her into the empty elevator. When the doors closed Nesca kissed him deeply and began to unbuckle his belt.

Johnny lifted her up against the wall and put her legs around him then said "You have to wait until we're alone Nesca." He raised her dress, slid her panties to the side and began playing with her clit with one hand, while he kissed that sensitive spot on her neck as she hung from his shoulders and held her by the waist with his arm.

"Ooh y-, it feels so g. . ." She moaned, trying to get her words out.

"Just cum, baby, you're almost there." He said as he pushed two fingers into her and did so quickly that her body began to quiver as she called out his name over and over.

...

*Ding* The sound of the elevator doors opening dispelled the remnants of her daydream. She blushed, the infusion of color turning her skin a luscious cocoa.

She and Johnny walked out into the twenty-fifth floor restaurant where they were warmly greeted by the host.

"Wow, Johnny really went all out," she thought.

All eyes in the crowded restaurant were on them as they made their way to their table. She was amazed by the richness and beauty of the place. At their table, her eyes sparkled with delight. All was sparkling silver and creamy linen. A bottle she supposed was champagne, sat in a silver ice bucket, small candles flickered golden on a crystal vase filled with long stemmed roses.

He pulled out her chair and kissed her cheek as she sat.

"I hope you like this," he told her, "because I've got the whole weekend planned." He reached to tenderly touch her hand.

"Oh, so you're kidnapping me now." She entwined her fingers in his, She could feel his heat, his need in his fingers. "Worse than stalking." She laughed.

"Very funny" he said kissing the back of her hand. "Choose anything you'd like."

She gazed thoughtfully at her menu, looking over the familiar items. "So you are Italian." She said, since his family owned the restaurant, and most items on the menu were Italian.

"Yeah, you couldn't tell." He said, chest swelling, fiddling with his tie.

She rolled her eyes at him. She tried to free her hand to hold the menu, but he held firm, running his thumb smoothly over the back of her hand. His dark eyes caught hers. "Ness, you affect me in a way I can't explain. I like playing with you. . . in every way," he added, smiling.

"So, what do you have planned for 'us' this weekend?" she asked, paying no mind to his last comment, pretending to concentrate on the menu.

"You'll see, in due time," he said sitting back, watching her face as she explored the menu. She seemed a bit overwhelmed.

The waiter, tall and swarthy, broad chested and handsome, his black hair gathered into a ponytail, looked like a mythical Roman god. Something about him looked familiar.

"Nipote, questa ragazza è mio e qui rimanere, capire." Then he turned to her, "and what would you like babe?" Johnny asked Nesca

"Um, well I can't make up my mind. You know it better than I do." she replied to Johnny, you choose for me."

"You're not allergic to anything right."

She shook her head. He smiled at her and said something in Italian to the waiter and smiled again, noticing her attention on the waiter.

She looked back and forth at the two men. They really favored one another in hair and height and smooth, even features. As the waiter left, she questioned Johnny. "Was that your son?"

"What, no. That's my nephew." He said pouring the contents of the chilled bottle into their glasses "Hope you don't mind cider. I know you're underage."

"I know, you don't have to tease. Being thirty must be fun."

Their plates arrived a few minutes later and her attention was fixed for a time on the delicious repast.

As they ate, they talked and talked, getting acquainted with each other. Nesca discovered that Johnny was the middle child of three, having an older brother and younger sister. He had been the head basketball coach and a teacher at the high school Jerome attended, but after a couple of years he decided to spend a few years with his parents in Italy. She also found, that even though he hadn't been born in Italy, he spoke the language as if he were a native.

Nesca mentioned her family and a few of her favorite hobbies. She told him she was studying to be a chemist, which was why she didn't belong in his English literature class.

"I'm glad I took the class though. Or I wouldn't have met the famous 'Johnny Giovanni'," she said. Her gaze drifted to her hand. She became alarmed at the swelling in her wrist

He smiled at her, happy that her mood was considerably warmer than it had been earlier that week.

"You know, I used to play a little basketball myself." She said, quickly looking up from her wrist.

"Really," he replied, less surprised than she expected. "We'll see." They finished in silence, sipping on sweet espresso.

They held each other close as they strolled toward the beach, their hips bumping affectionately. He loosened his tie; she held him for support while Johnny stood in the sand, shoes and socks removed, to take off her heels. He lifted her as he saw her legs were about to give in.

"Why wear those shoes if they hurt?" he asked.

"These heels are really cute." She attempted to take her heels off with her injured hand but failed so she continued with her other hand. "And they don't hurt, I just... I had a long day. I can walk fine so can you put me down?" He complied. "Thank you" she said, back on her feet.

Johnny put his arm around her as they walked down the beach, shoes in hand, moonlight guiding their path, casting a silver ribbon across the sea.

He slipped his jacket over her shoulders. "So you're a bachelor." She said wriggling her arms through the sleeves.

"Was" he corrected "I think something's giving me a change of heart.

There was an awkward stillness before he spoke again.

"I know that I like you, Nesca, a lot. It has been a while since I admitted to such feelings for a woman, but I really do mean it."

"Well, I can't say I don't believe you. You stuck out through one of my psycho acts."

"There's a reason for everything." He said looking out to the vastness of the sea, hypnotized by the sparkling waves.

"Yeah well if you don't mind me asking, why did you decide to stay a bachelor?" She didn't realize what she had asked until it was too late. Then he began.

"Around sophomore year in high school, I wasn't much of a 'chick magnet'. I was always trying to be up with all the latest fads in clothing and music to get girls to notice me. I was a fool for the girls. But every girl turned me down flat. Literally, they would say no before I even asked."

Nesca snickered.

"I'm glad you find my humiliation so amusing."

"I'm sorry. You know I mean well, Johnny," she said, cuddling into his arm.

"Well, around the time I got into the most of the junior varsity teams, and was doing pretty well in every team, that was when the girls started coming from left and right. Some moments felt so right I just wanted to keep things that way and I did. But when I saw you, I knew something about you was too good to pass up."

More quietness passed, the only sound was the gentle shush of the waves on the beach. They sat nestled together watching the waves roll in and out.

"BPD." She murmured quickly, barely above a whisper.

"What?" He turned to her in question.

"BPD. Borderline Personality Disorder." She said looking up at him. "That's what's wrong with me. Me pushing everyone away and all the craziness that comes out of nowhere. Doctors say it takes more than one analysis to diagnose it, but I guess you can say I still don't want to believe my behavior has anything to do with a diagnosed disorder. Makes it sound like I'm crazy or something"

She paused a moment then began again.

"This guy I liked a couple years back, said he wanted to employ me because of my work background. Later, I discovered he was trying to have sex with me. I mistook his attention for something more. We had talked from time to time, but nothing serious. Long story short, when I realized my love for him I found out he had a wife and kids, but that didn't stop him from pursuing me." She began tearing up.

"I went into deep depression. I thought I would never come out. One day, my actions got the better of my head, I began cutting myself. That's when Jerome found me passed out, cuts on my arm and blood everywhere. If had been a couple minutes later, I don't know what might have happened." The tears were flowing freely down her face now.

"I recovered from my incident, but from then on, I was a bitch to everyone who tried to come into my life. I isolated myself from everyone: my father, mother, my whole family, even society. The only people I now speak or listen to are my sister and Jerome because I know they understand me. They try to get me to go to therapy but every time I do, I sit outside the door in a fetal position like a true crazy person.

"So if you wonder why Jerome is around and why I act the way I do, or those sudden exits to "important appointments", it's my BPD, So feel free to dump this psychopath, leaving her to her own crazy thoughts. " tears streamed down her face as she moved to stand.

But he pulled her back to him, held her tight in his arms. They held each other for what seemed like hours. When she was coherent again, Johnny spoke.

"You don't need another diagnosis. I'm here. You let me into your life which means something." He said wiping her tears.

"No." she sniffled, trying to smile, her eyes locked on his. "Your company means everything."

He smiled at her words.

"Do you know what this means Johnny" she scanned his face as if he had a clue as to what she was saying.

"No but your happiness is good enough for me right now."

The refined adjustments began.

The couple walked off the beach, wending their way to his house. His house looked comfy and welcoming with tones of brown, beige and black. The rooms were well lit and well kept. The black bookshelves recessed in the black walls made the huge beige couch stand out. A coffee table in muted shades of brown sat in the middle of the room with two chocolate leather chairs placed on either side of the table, rounded out the picture. The room screamed, "Bachelor".

"So what happened to your wrist?" he asked out of nowhere.