April 22, 1989
Chapter 30
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.
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Tom Bailey sat slumped on the loveseat in his living room, checked his wristwatch then anxiously drummed the fingers of his right hand on the armrest's blue polyester fabric.
"Honey!" he yelled to his new bride, who was upstairs in their bedroom, supposedly getting dressed for their dinner date at the home of her friend and assistant Nancy Allums and her husband. "Are you almost ready? C'mon. It's 6:45, we're gonna be late!"
Ms. Angelina Lione-Bailey, preoccupied with choosing the appropriate evening wear for the occasion, held a dress up to her body as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror, the mouthpiece of her long red cigarette holder drooping from her full, red lips.
"Angelina?!" Tom bellowed, when about 10 seconds had elapsed and there was still no response from the second floor.
The couple had been married for exactly two weeks, and from the night of the wedding ceremony their relationship had been a veritable fuck fest. The honeymoon that started on the scorching sandy beaches of Turks and Caicos was still sizzling when they returned home a week later to the decidedly un-tropical shores of northern New Jersey. The newlyweds screwed all over the house -- whenever and wherever the mood struck.
An accomplished chef, Angelina rarely turned on the oven during this honeymoon phase, opting instead to do most of her cooking in the bedroom, or whatever room where romance suddenly bloomed between the amorous woman and her equally passionate young husband. Tom lost seven pounds and had to get most of his nutrition outside the house. But he could care less. Sex was far and away his top priority -- as it always was for his wife, the chronically lustful librarian.
Only work obligations could separate them and disrupt their fornication routine. Otherwise, they engaged in some form of sexual intercourse -- be it oral, anal or vaginal -- from practically the time they awoke to the moment when Tom's powerful yet sensitive pelvic thrusts inevitably sent the fully-pleasured Angelina off to blissful and orgasmic unconsciousness for the night. Even the horniest rabbits couldn't keep up with the lovemaking pace that Tom and Angelina set for themselves.
That Saturday evening's dinner invitation from Nancy Allums and her husband offered the first real opportunity for the self-imposed shut-ins to step out socially. But that now seemed in jeopardy, as Angelina had yet to emerge from her bedroom.
"ANGELINA!" Tom called out for a third time.
