Umberto: Gianluca Overlap… Part Two

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We started out with the hot peppers, bread in one hand, fork in the other and a cold glass of water in front of us.  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sniffed myself into pure agony – there is such a fine line between pain and pleasure.  Mona wanted to try some but was a little leery because of my reaction.  I told her that they weren’t that hot but quite enjoyable.

Mona carefully picked through the dish as if she had some sort of power that allowed her to determine which peppers were the hottest.  She picked up half a burnt medium-sized pepper and slowly brought it up to her mouth with her right hand.  Her left hand was prepared for the worst, armed with a warm piece of Italian bread, ready to jam it into her mouth to alleviate the pain.  She too a microscopic bite and flailed her tongue in horror.  In went the bread, followed by the water, followed by the tears.

Mona quickly overcame the pain and decided that she’d like to have another.  We ate and drank and enjoyed our meal, never letting a flavor escape our taste buds.  I excused myself at least 5 times to go to the ladies’ room.  I saw Umberto sitting there and didn’t want to disturb him, plus I didn’t even think that he’d know me because I had only been there with Gianluca.  Boy!  Was I wrong!

On my way back to the table for the fifth time, Umberto asked me why I didn’t say hello to him.  I said hi and explained why.  He said,

• I could never forget you with or without Gianluca.

I told him that it was Mona’s birthday and we were celebrating.  I returned to the table and the next thing I knew, Umberto was standing beside me.  I introduced him to Mona and he wished her a Happy Birthday.  He offered us dessert and cappuccino – we declined the dessert.

Umberto vanished into the back and returned with 3 cappuccinos (one for him) and a huge plate of tartuffo covered with flickering candles.  Everybody in the place started singing Happy Birthday while Mona kicked me under the table, half smiling and half scowling at me.  I told her that it wasn’t my fault and that Umberto thought this one up all on by himself, though I don’t know if she believed me or not.

Umberto pulled up a chair and chatted with us for a while.  He told me that he was going to go to Atlantic City tonight and asked us if we would like to join him.  Mona refused saying that she had to get some rest tonight.  I told Umberto that maybe I’d pop in later and we could go.  Of course I had no intention of going back to Orange by myself later that night but I made it look promising anyway.

After 3 1/2 hours of indulgence, we left and headed back to my house.  I took the scenic route through Orange and Bloomfield and Mona continued to comment on the scenery.  Groups of loitering scum flanked both sides of the street while we sped off to a better area.  Riding down Glenwood Avenue was way too temping.  I had to show Mona where Gianluca lived.  I made a left just before the overpass then drove to the end of the block and made a right onto his street.

I lowered the radio (a practice I adopted the closer I got to his house – I needed to concentrate) and slowed up a couple houses away.  Gianluca and Frank lived in a big, brick building, housing a total of 3 families.  Gialuca lived on the first floor in a modest 2 bedroom flat with Frank.  Their next door neighbor, Sherrie, lived with her daughter Rachel and the landlord lived upstairs.

To be continued….

© 2011 The Not So Secret Diary of A Jersey Girl.

Related articles

• Umberto: Gianluca Overlap… Part One (thenotsosecretdiaryofajerseygirl.wordpress.com)
• Gianluca: Delightfully Depraved or Big Disappointment? Part One. (thenotsosecretdiaryofajerseygirl.wordpress.com)
• Gianluca – At The Restaurant: Part Two (thenotsosecretdiaryofajerseygirl.wordpress.com)

Tags: dating, fiction, Jersey, Life, My Life, New Jersey, Personal, relationships, sex, Stories

Umberto: Gianluca Overlap… Part One

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• Oh my God Jacq!  Where are you taking me?
• Don’t worry, it’s a nice place.  Just make sure your doors are locked.  We’ll be there in a minute.

Orange, New Jersey is not an optimal choice for a late-night drive, but it has some of the best restaurants around and I cannot pass up good food.  We darted around each corner while scary eyes peered at the minorities (us – the white girls) in the window.  I was used to driving in Orange in the dead of night.  It really didn’t bother me.  Though, I must say that I didn’t like catching red lights – especially when I was alone.

• Jacq, isn’t this a little… you know… uh, uh….
• Frightening?
• Yes.  Yes, that’s the word.
• Mone, calm down.  I’m in control here.
• That’s what I’m worried about!

When we made a left on Lincoln Avenue the streets were deserted and I quickly pointed out the restaurant to ease my friend’s panic.  Piccolini is a tiny place set smack down in the middle of a 2 block long “Little Italy“.  If you walk a block over in any direction, I suggest that you carry an UZI, mace, brass knuckles and a bazooka.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as hostile as I make it sound, but it can be.  I parked my car in the driveway while Poppy supervised my every move.  Poppy is the little Spanish man who guards all the customers’ cars at the restaurant.  Mona and I started towards the door as Poppy scurried to open it for us.

This place was very small and very cute.  To the left there’s a bar with 8 black vinyl stools.  Judy, the barmaid was working.  There was a big mirror behind the bar that I checked myself out in each time I passed by.  To the right is half of a wall with wooden columns extending up to the ceiling.  All he tables were done in mauve and white with small sprigs of fresh flowers in green Perrier bottles.

Just past the bar on the left sat Umberto, his mother, sister and the cooks in the kitchen, all indulging feverishly in some appetizing food.  Mike and Margie were working and came to greet me at the door.  We took a table for two of the other side of the wall where I had a good view of the door just in case Gianluca walked in unexpectedly.  We were broken up for the 100th time this month and I did not want to run into him.  I was always petrified of his reaction.

Julio was our waiter.  He was filling in for Nico who was in Chile.  He brought us a wine list and I looked it over trying to decide on the perfect bouquet.  I felt like Pinot Grigio.  Pinot Grigio Santa Margarita – that’s it.

While Julio found the wine, I asked Mona what she thought.

• What do you think?
• Cute.  Very small.
• Wait ’til you taste the food.

Julio brought us our wine.  I tasted it with approval and he put it on ice.  He disappeared again and came back with two menus, reciting all the specials written microscopically on the board in neon colors.  I couldn’t read the damn thing.  I tried to digest it all but I had to ask him 3 or 4 more times.  We scanned the menu with great expertise getting our taste buds ready for a feast to remember.  Mona ordered swordfish with a light marinara sauce with vegetables and a salad – no appetizer.  I ordered roasted long hots with potatoes, Spiedini alla Romana and veal in a mushroom cream sauce with asparagus and fresh mozzarella.

…..to be continued.

© The Not So Secret Diary of A Jersey Girl 2010.

Tags: fiction, Life, My Life, New Jersey, Stories

The Date Continues… Part Three

DISCLAIMER:  For mature audiences ONLY.

At last we left the restaurant and Bobby dropped his friends off and drove Gianluca and I back to his house because my date’s car was parked out front.  At this point I just wanted to go home but Lauren wanted us to go upstairs and hang out.  Bobby had to go to work and G and I sat on the reclining sofa.  As soon as her husband left, Lauren was pulling out bottles of wine and Jack Daniels.  We made her put away the JD and started on the vino.

Between the two of us we sucked down 3 more bottles of wine with the exception of 2 glasses that Lauren got smashed on.  We were laughing and giggling and having a great time.  We were both too drunk to drive so we ended up staying over.  Before Lauren went to bed I asked her for a long shirt to wear.  She ran upstairs and fetched a red t-shirt that barely covered my ass.  I argued that it was too short but she had nothing else.  I was quite embarrassed about being half-naked in the pull out bed with a stranger, but he didn’t seem to object so why should I?

We shut off the lights and crawled into bed as I desperately tried not to touch him.  Contact would only lead to trouble.  I was ready to drift off into a nice drunken slumber when he grabbed me and started kissing and caressing me.  His kisses were so deep and wet.  His touch was exciting and sent chills down my spine.  I was getting aroused and by the bulge in his pants I could tell that he was too.

All I could think of was not fucking him, but I was curious to see whether his member was big or small.  It felt really huge on my leg and I was moistened tout de suite.  His mouth was in overdrive as he moved down to the lower half of my body titillating my every crevice with his soft tongue.  All at once he was towering over me like a sinister creature, ready to plunge deep into my pulsating channel saturated in love juice..

He dominated me for about an hour with each thrust more pleasurable than the next.  We were determined to keep quiet so that no one would overhear us but we kept emitting uncontrollable moans of passion in each other’s ears.  Hands were everywhere, tongues were everywhere, lips were everywhere.

The bed was creaking and my world was shaking.  I decided to mount and ride him until early morning while his face revealed just how much pleasure he was really experiencing.  We changed positions again – this time I got on my knees and he entered from behind.  He practically sent me through the wall, clutched my cheeks and climaxed letting out a deep, strong roar and immediately stopped.

I ran into the bathroom to clean up and climbed back into bed.  This time we cuddled all night long until we heard a loud, disturbing voice at 7 am, “Look at you drunken bums, get the Hell out of bed!”  It was Bobby.  We just glared at him, put the pillows over our heads and rolled back over.  The next voices we heard were the baby’s whining and Lauren complaining that she had a monstrous hangover.  Lauren shut the den doors and we slept until 2 pm.

Image: Francesco Marino / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© The Not So Secret Diary of A Jersey Girl 2010.

Tags: blind dates, fiction, Jersey, Life, My Life, New Jersey, relationships, sex, Stories

Gianluca – At The Restaurant: Part Two

Bobby went through every red light on the way to Don Pepe’s.  He was booking 90 mph down Bloomfield Avenue and thought nothing of it.  He was a Bloomfield cop and knew he was immune to tickets.  Miraculously, we made it there in one piece!  The valet parked the car and we walked inside.  We took the elevator to the 2nd floor with no lights and no AC – and I was screaming, “Watch your hands!” while Lauren was screaming “Don’t touch my cousin!”

We sat at a long table near the door.  I was next to Gianluca on his right, the baby and Lauren were across from me, as well as Bobby and Bill and Joan was flanking Gianluca on the left.  To start, we ordered some cocktails.  I order a large pitcher of Red Sangria and a Kamikaze rocks with a twist of lime, easy on the lime juice, stirred, not shaken.  Everyone looked at me as if to say to the waiter, “Did you get all that?”  The guys ordered 2 bottles of Vino Verde and Joan and my cousin had Cokes.

When it was time to order the meal I wanted to have shrimp and garlic but I realized that this was our first date and I didn’t want to stink.  When the waiter came around to G, he ordered shrimp and garlic and a pork chop.  I was delighted and ordered it for myself too, as well as a stuffed lobster.  Lauren ordered the same as me , Joan asked for shrimp in green sauce and the other two ordered Paella.

While we were waiting for our food I found out that G smoked.  No!  Not that!  Anything but that!  By now I had no desire to even be near him.  In the meantime, the baby was getting rambunctious, throwing food all over the place.  Lauren tried to calm him down by dipping bread in my Kamikaze; something that thoroughly disgusted me causing me not to finish my beverage.  I was slowly getting more and more aggravated and paranoid that my outfit would be ruined by a stray splash from the kid.  He finally broke a glass and was smacked shortly thereafter.

I was so uptight that I ended up demolishing the entire pitcher of Sangria (minus 1 1/2 glasses that Lauren forced down ) and downing countless Kamikaze shots.  The night was not going well, the date was a disaster and we were all getting hammered.

To be continued….

Image: Carlos Porto / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© The Not So Secret Diary of A Jersey Girl 2010.

Tags: blind dates, fiction, Jersey, Life, My Life, New Jersey, storied

Gianluca: Delightfully Depraved or Big Disappointment? Part One.

The first time I met Gianluca I was disappointed.  I never thought that I would fall in love, lust after or obey someone like him.

Let me start from the beginning…

I was disgusted with every single guy I dated after Nick.  I was in search for a nice man, not a boy, to have a good time with.  I didn’t ant a relationship, a commitment or some heartache over a good-for-nothing jerk off, so I asked my cousin Lauren if she knew anyone.

She told me that she had the perfect guy for me.  Gianluca M., her husband’s friend, 33 years old, had cash and was very cute.  I couldn’t wait to meet him.  Lauren arranged for a bunch of us to go out to a Portuguese restaurant down neck.  The crew consisted of Lauren, Bobby, Bobby Jr., Joan, Bill, Gianluca and me.  I put on a respectable outfit, poofed my hair and I was ready to go.

Lauren, Bobby and Gianluca picked me up at 7 pm in Lauren’s metallic blue S.U.V..  I could see from my door that G was in the back seat with the baby and I was trying to get a look at him through the window because I really didn’t trust my cousin’s taste in men.  I walked over to the driver’s side of the door and finally laid eyes on him.

Was she nuts?  He was bald.  He was old and I wasn’t intrigued.  Come on.  I was accustomed to dating gorgeous, well-built men that would cause any woman to salivate.  This was ridiculous!  I tried to hide my reaction and introduced myself.

Oooo.  He had a nice, low, sexy voice – there may be hope for him yet!

He was wearing gray pants and a blue silk shirt.  He wore a small diamond earring in his left ear and smelled really good.  I could tell he was tall.  I always liked tall men.  He had dark brown hair (what was left of it) and sparkling dark brown eyes.  Around his neck, he was wearing a gold rope chair with Jesus Christ on the cross.  His teeth were straight yet stained in front and he had a pleasant smile.

To be continued……..

Image: Francesco Marino / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© The Not So Secret Diary of A Jersey Girl 2010.

Tags: dating, Life, love, lust, My Life, Personal, relationships, Stories

Intro…

Every woman is crucified by man’s presence on this earth.  Continually having the upper hand in relationships and treating women like shit.  Oh, how we tolerate their nonsense and oh, how they endure our constant bouts of moodiness caused by premenstrual, menstrual and post menstrual syndromes.  That about covers the year.  We live together, play together, eat together, sleep together, fight together… among other things.  So, if we put up with all this, why can’t we just get along?  We never see eye to eye even when we’re cheek to cheek and when it comes to commitment, who’s really ready?

Don’t get me wrong, I love men, want men and can’t live blissfully without them.  But all this still doesn’t change the unpleasant facts about the male species.  Don’t ask me to illustrate them because if you’re a woman who has been in like, in love or in lust, you know more than I could ever reveal.  So I say, handle them the way they treat you.  Physically, emotionally and mentally.

Basically, I guess I’ve always been hunting around for a good man, but now I’m just in search of a good fuck.

Image: Roland Darby / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© The Not So Secret Diary of A Jersey Girl 2010.

Tags: fiction, Life, men, My Life, Stories, women

I Am A Jersey Girl

Jersey fever has been so crazy lately.  We have The Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives of NJ, Jerseylicious and Jersey Couture.  I am born and bred New Jersey.  A North Jersey transplant, I moved to the Jersey Shore 10 years ago and now can finally shed my BENNY status.

Though pleased by all the New Jersey fabulosity, I still have my gripes with all of these shows.

Let’s start with The Jersey Shore. I realize that MTV has a goldmine with this drama-filled spectacle.  These kids are not even from NJ (maybe one or two).  They are BENNYS from other states giving NJ and frankly, Italians a bad name.  Take it for entertainment value and nothing more.  True, there are some CAVONES that do act in that manner but I avoid them at all costs.

Speaking of CAVONES, The Real Housewives of NJ are proof that “Money Can’t Buy You Class”.  My friends are obsessed with these women so I tried them out.  After seeing this show, I refuse to ever go to the Brownstone again because that Caroline seriously makes me sick.  She is a classless woman with money.  Don’t even get me started on Theresa.  She needs serious help.

Jerseylicious is by far my favorite of the four.  Even though most of the cast is over the top, I think Olivia is sweet but Tracy needs to go AWAY.  Far away.  Maybe she should team up with the Manzos and start a new Jersey show:  Classless Broads From NJ:  My 15 Minutes of Fame.

Although I like the cast on Jersey Couture, the fashions are horrendous.  Can you say gaudy?  I’m sure there are a few redeeming gowns but you’d never know it.  It should be called Jersey Basse Couture because it’s definitely not HAUTE.

Enough of my ranting and more about me.  I was and I still am a wild child (though married now) with stories to curl your nose hair.  I hope enjoy reading my upcoming posts.  Please don’t judge, just enjoy.

Image: Roland Darby / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© The Not So Secret Diary of A Jersey Girl 2010.

Tags: Entertainment, Jersey, Life, My Life, New Jersey, Personal, Rants, Stories, The jersey Shore

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