April 16, 1989
Chapter 29
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 frequently 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, Harry Seymour, an older man who fed her fetish for cigar-smoking lovers. After the forbidden relationship unceremoniously ended six years later, Angelina found herself alone at a time when many of her peers had long since settled down into blissful domestic life. A prolonged romantic dry spell followed, until a former student unexpectedly burst into her life.
Twenty-two year old Tom Bailey had been in lust with Angelina for years, drawn in classic fetish fashion to the sexy librarian's stylish, high-heeled boots, seductive smoking and even her pretentious and snobbish personality. Over time, 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 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 finally broken, Angelina and Tom were finally free to embark on a committed, loving relationship. But the couple's path to long-term romantic harmony was lined with a phalanx of challenges -- not the least of which was familial. During their first fortnight together, Tom met Angelina's family -- and had been unnerved by her brutish and overprotective brother-in-law.
It was a couple months into their relationship before Tom worked up the nerve to introduce Angelina to his folks. The encounter set off a tremor that was bound to trigger aftershocks along the fault line of their courtship. The meeting with what turned out to be an old work adversary so unnerved Tom's mother, in fact, that she subsequently resumed a long dormant smoking habit.
That introduction went poorly enough, but how would Tom's college friends react to seeing him with a much older woman? What would be their impression of her? What would he see in her? Sure Angelina was attractive enough -- but she 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, and the age difference would be even more pronounced. The very real possibility existed that they'd disapprove of this affair, judging Tom a weirdo and mere boy toy to Angelina's dirty old woman.
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 bitchy 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 he and this MILF-before-the-term-was-coined made love it brought him to heights of pleasure he never dreamed possible.
Finally after a year of "dating," the two became engaged. Six months later the improbably couple married. Still, their future seemed as romantically dysfunctional and clouded as their present. In part due to questions surrounding whether or not Angelina was capable of curbing her sexual enthusiasm.
For even while dating her confessed greatest lover, Harry, Angelina engaged in several dalliances with other men. Would the mere presence of a wedding ring on her finger be enough to stop a lifetime of promiscuity. It certainly didn't deter her at her bachelorette party. Certainly if she were to sustain a long and healthy marriage, such party-girl misbehavior would not be permissible. At long last, can this cougar finally change her stripes and commit to a monogamous relationship with someone, ideally, her young husband, Tom?
In the meantime, with Tom free to indulge in his lifelong fixation for women who smoked and wore high-healed fashion boots, and Angelina able to satisfy her lust for sexual partners who smoked cigars, the May-December couple enjoyed a marriage made in fetish heaven.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I just love weekends," Tom Bailey said contentedly, lying naked on his back on the heartshaped bed he shared with his bride of two weeks, Angelina Lione. "No work. No alarm clock. No one to see if you don't want to. We can make love all day."
"Not ALL day, darrhhlling," Angelina called out to her husband from the bathroom off of their bedroom, as she brushed makeup on to the high cheekbones of her beautiful face. "We're hosting my family for dinner tonight, remember?"
"What?!"
"Of course, darrhhling. It's Sunday. You know we have a family dinner every Sunday. We just haven't had a chance to get together for a few weeks because of the wedding and then the honeymoon. Tonight's my -- or shall I say, our -- turn to host. Our first family Sunday dinner as husband and wife."
"Awww, man. But I was looking forward to having a nice relaxing breakfast, then having sex again."
Already dressed for the day, Angelina emerged from the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed to resume their conversation.
"I know, darrhhling, I know," she said in an almost motherly tone to the lover who was almost 30 years her junior, delicately placing her right hand on Tom's muscular, bare chest. "Believe me, I'd love to do the same. But we haven't got time. I've got to get the manicotti made, the antipasto ready and..."
"But we've practically lived on love since we got married. In two weeks, I don't think we've been together for more than a couple hours without having sex. My body's going to go into withdrawal, seeing you and not being able to take you. Do you have to wear that, too?"
"Wear what, darrhhling?" the woman asked, looking over her outfit. "This is just a black leotard-like top. I'm dressed casually, not sexily."
"You know what I mean," Tom said, pointing to Angelina's footwear. "You know I can't resist you in those."
"The boots?"
"Yeah, what else?"
Angelina ran her left hand down the knee-high, high-heeled black boot that was zipped over her dark-colored trousers.
"Oh, darrhhling," she said with a chuckle. "You and your boyish boot fetish. It's so charming. And to think, I was the inspiration for it way back when. But you're just going to have to learn to control yourself around me when we're with other people... like I do with you."
"But you're teasing me by wearing them outside your leg. Could you at least tuck them into your pants, so they're not so obvious?"
"But doing so doesn't show off my dancer's legs. Plus, I love this look. Why hide these beautiful boots?"
Angelina raised her slim but toned right leg into the air and straightened it so as to better admire the sexy footwear.
"Now, get up and get ready," she commanded. "We've got a lot of work to do. I want you to help me with dinner. Plus, my Uncle Frank is coming tonight, so I want this meal to be extra-special terrific."
