December 14, 1987
Single, middle-aged and bespectacled Angelina Lione may look the part of the prim, proper and sexually repressed, buttoned-up bibliothec, but she's most definitely NOT your father's librarian -- at least not while in a lover's company. Blessed with a ravenous and unquenchable sexual appetite, Angelina's orgasms are so intense that she oftentimes faints during the throes of passion.
While never mistaken for a perfect 10 with her large brown eyes, tucked behind oversized, Diana Prince-style eyeglass lenses, Angelina still cuts quite the desirable figure, with a fetching face always perfectly and tastefully made up, and a sleek and shapely body. Her short, black hair, speckled with gray, was cut in a chic, wedge/pixie-style, puffed and piled on the top and curled forward around the ears. Angelina's attractive physical traits, however, always paled in comparison to her overwhelming sex appeal. Using her vast store of feminine wiles, Angelina negotiates about her lovers' hearts, minds and bodies as deftly as she navigates the Dewey Decimal System, manipulating infatuated men for her monetary and personal gain.
High maintenance and even higher fashion, Angelina always models the latest designer threads -- oftentimes accentuated by any one of her dozen pairs of high-heeled dress boots. Her sophisticated look even extends to smoking accessories. The haughty diva wouldn't dream of smoking a cigarette if it wasn't filtered through her long, black holder. More of a cigarette holder sucker and stroker than a smoker, Angelina seductively works the black shaft with her mouth, tongue and fingers as if it was a penis proxy; the effect that playing with the long, stiff holder has on would-be lovers is like snake charming. Under the sexy siren's magic spell, they're entirely at her mercy; powerless to resist the temptation to pleasure her -- as if they really would.
Angelina spent her 20s and 30s as a fully-committed member of the sexual revolution of the 1960s and '70s -- bedding dozens upon dozens of men. Only when she reached age 40 did her love life settle down -- for her anyway -- when the lusty librarian entered into a long term, nearly exclusive, torrid affair with the principal at her school. After the forbidden relationship unceremoniously ended six years later, Angelina found herself alone at a time when her peers had long since settled down into blissful domestic life. A prolonged romantic dry spell followed, until a former student unexpectedly entered the scene.
Twenty-two year old Tom Bailey had been in love with Angelina since he was a 13-year-old student of hers, drawn in classic fetish fashion to the sexy librarian's stylish, high-heeled boots, seductive smoking and even her pretentious and snobbish personality. Over the past nine years his feelings -- like his fetishes -- for the femme fatale only grew stronger, until he could no longer keep them to himself. The pair had just launched an intense, physical relationship when Harry Seymour, Angelina's old boss and lover, re-entered her life. Unable to decide between the two romantic suitors, Angelina proposed a date-off -- or "fuck-off" -- as Tom bitterly described the arrangement.
Now, with her love life once again in full bloom, the amorous woman was in sex heaven -- reliving her youth, when men practically lined up around the block to date her. Preying on the men's sexual addiction to her, Angelina gleefully bounced between their beds for nearly a month, until Tom finally prevailed.
The love triangle now broken, Angelina and Tom were finally free to embark on a committed, loving relationship. But the couple's path to romantic bliss was lined with a phalanx of challenges. During their first fortnight together, Tom met Angelina's family -- and had been unnerved by her brutish and overprotective brother-in-law. She, though, had not yet met his family -- nor his friends. Tom had revealed little about Angelina, fearful they'd judge and mock the pair's nearly 30-year age difference. He worried they'd wonder what on earth he saw in her. Sure, she was attractive enough -- but Angelina was an attractive older woman. Why would young Tom be interested in a 50 year old, when there were plenty of lovely ladies his own age available? And when they got a whiff of her pompous and bitchy personality, they'd really question what was in this relationship for Tom.
Private by nature -- and especially embarrassed to confide in anyone about his smoking and boot fetishes -- how could Tom possibly explain to them that Angelina embodied all that he found physically alluring in a woman? How every time he saw the haughty diva smoking from a cigarette holder or strutting about in a pair of delicious, high-heeled, knee-high leather boots it made his dick dance and pulsate with delight. Or that when every time he and this MILF-before-the-term-was-coined made love it brought him to heights of pleasure he never dreamed possible.
Still, any future challenges to their relationship were overshadowed by how much fun the couple was experiencing in the present -- highlighted in particular by their sometimes thrice-daily, intense and uninhibited lovemaking. In these heady, early days of their dating life, Tom felt like he was attending a sex fantasy camp with his boyhood crush, while to Angelina, she was thoroughly caught up in the joy of what could be her last shot at romance and passion. For now, anyway, their intense love affair was enough to sustain and distract them from the very real possibility that those they loved would judge Tom as a weirdo and mere boy toy to Angelina's dirty old woman.
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"Man, I think I'm more nervous now than I was when I came to the library back in October to ask you out," confessed Tom Bailey to his girlfriend Angelina Lione, as the pair stood on the weathered old "Welcome" mat outside the front door of his childhood house in Riverdale, N.J. "Aren't you nervous?"
"Of course not, darling," she answered calmly with a dismissive waive of her black-leather gloved right hand.
"Really? I can't believe you're this relaxed."
"It's been years, obviously, but charming a boyfriend's parents, my dear, is like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget. Your parents and I will get along famously. Don't worry. If there's a lull in the conversation, I'll steer it toward Seton Hall. Seeing as though I'm a graduate and your mother once worked there, it'll be a natural conversation starter. We have something else in common, too, you know."
"What's that?"
Angelina paused and gazed up romantically into her lover's deep blue eyes.
"We both happen to be very, very fond of you -- although for quite different reasons," she said, the words dripping slowly and sensually off her tongue.
Bathed in the glow from the outdoor light perched over the front stoop and with a mere 2.5"-inch thick mahogany door separating them from his parents, now was definitely not the time for the two to make out, yet Tom couldn't help but forget his surroundings and succumb to his seductress by initiating a mouth-engulfing embrace. Angelina just had an innate ability to seduce him -- whether it was with a come-hither look, the slinky way she had of crossing -- and uncrossing -- her boot-swathed legs, or a sultry exhale after a soft pull from her theatre-length cigarette holder. These were just some of the many subtle triggers that sparked their intense physical attraction for one another. Indeed, between kissing, blowjobs and intercourse, the couple exchanged so much body fluid that if saliva tests were conducted on them the results would prove inconclusive.
"Wow, that was awesome, just awesome," Tom said, half a minute later after the two unlocked lips.
"I had a feeling that would relax you," Angelina responded. "Now, ring that doorbell, darling, and lets do this."
"Just a second, I can't go into my folks' house with an erection."
Angelina laughed softly at the immediate physical affect her flirtation had on her lover.
"I love how easily excited you get, darling," she said. "It's just so cute."
"Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I had more control over my arousal -- like now," Tom said as he impatiently waited out his stiffy.
A minute later, when his penis had returned to its pre-erection size, the young man let out a long exhale and pressed the white doorbell. Moments later the door swung open and the two couples stood face to face.
"Mom and dad, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Angelina Lione," Tom introduced. "Angelina, these are my parents, Al and Ann Bailey."
"Ohhh!!" Angelina exclaimed with a moan, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, as she fainted back in Tom's arms.
Ann did likewise -- minus the moan -- into Al's.
The women's respective lovers looked on in silence, too stunned to speak.
"Well, Tom, your girlfriend sure knows how to make a first impression, all right," quipped the elder Bailey, several seconds later, his wits now gathered.
"She's slipping here, dad, can you help me carry her inside so I can lay her down?" Tom answered, struggling to prop up Angelina's limp, unconscious body.
"Kinda have my hands full myself here, son."
"Oh, yeah, right."
Tom repositioned his fainted girlfriend in his arms for a better grip, then, while holding her upright and arms wrapped around her waist, backed into his parents' house, Angelina's high-heeled, black leather boots scraping the wooden floor as he dragged her into the living room.
"Where do I put her?" Tom asked his father feet later, still apparently flummoxed by what had just occurred at the doorstep that he failed to take into account the sofa no more than a foot to his left; the one that had been rooted to the same spot in the house he grew up with for so long that he could find it blindfolded.
