March 31-April 1, 1989
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 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. 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 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 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 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 istanbul travesti 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.
For a year, the pair engaged in an intense physical relationship, characterized by daily bouts of uninhibited, care-free sex and yet somehow devoid — at least in Tom’s viewpoint — of satisfactory emotional intimacy.
Finally after a year of “dating,” the two professed their love for each other and subsequently became engaged to be 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 Seymour, Angelina engaged in several dalliances with other men. Would the mere presence of an engagement ring on her finger be enough to stop a lifetime of promiscuity. 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 fiancé, Tom?
At 3:59 p.m., Angelina Lione emerged from her office in the library of Riverdale Middle School.
“Time to close up, Nancy,” she said impatiently, sliding her arms into her stylish fur lined, black suede jacket. “C’mon, I’m in a hurry.”
“Just a second, Angelina,” the mousy assistant librarian answered, from the other side of the room, shutting a card catalog drawer, before scurrying to the front of the library to retrieve her pocketbook and decidedly non-stylish jacket from the coat rack. “Big plans tonight?”
“Thomas and I are meeting my uncle Frank for dinner in Kearney.”
“Sounds like a relaxing way to start a relaxing weekend. After last weekend’s bachelorette party and next weekend’s wedding, it’ll be nice to have a low-key weekend.”
“I’m not sure how low-key Saturday will be.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Tomorrow’s Thomas’ bachelor party.”
“Okay, so he’ll have an eventful weekend. But you can relax.”
“I’ll be the stripper.”
“Stripper?! Oh, tell me you’re not serious.”
“I’m going to crash the party.”
“Are you crazy? Why?”
“Why, to test his devotion to me, of course.”
“Devotion to you?!” exclaimed an exasperated Nancy. “Where was YOUR devotion to Tom last weekend when you almost slept with that guy you met at the club?”
Angelina ignored the question about her hypocricy, as she proceeded to slip on a pair of black leather gloves over the long and graceful fingers that have stroked dozens of men’s cocks over the course of her extensive and storied single life.
“Oh, Angelina,” Nancy continued. “You know Tom loves you. Just let him have his fun.”
“Well, let’s see just how much he allegedly loves me,” she said, holding her gloved hands in front of her to admire them. “You should see the beautiful costume I bought — and the sexy thigh-high boots. I’m going to pull out all the stops to seduce him. If he can pass this test, then I’ll know for sure that he’ll never stray.”
“And what if he gives in to your temptation…?”
“That depends on how much he gives in to temptation. If he falls for me, then I’ll have enough to hold it over him for the balance of our relationship; I’ll be able to control him. But if he’s really aroused, shall we say, then our marriage would be in serious jeopardy.”
“I can’t believe this. This is so unnecessary — and silly, I might add. Just how do you expect him not to recognize you?”
“Ahhh…I’ve thought of that. I also bought a blonde wig and a mask — and I won’t say a word. I’ll be known as the Silent Stripper. He’ll never know it’s me.”
“For god sakes. How are you going to wear a mask over your glasses? You’re as blind as a bat without them. Did you consider that problem?”
“Oh, I can get by without them for a few hours,” Angelina said with a dismissive waive of her black-gloved right hand.
Maybe, but what about the real stripper?” Nancy countered. “What are you going to do about her? You don’t even know who this woman is or where she’s coming from.”
Angelina looked at her friend and longtime assistant, with a devilish gleam in her eye.
“Oh…I have plans for her,” the scheming librarian said, with a wink and a sly smile. “I have plans…”
“I don’t like the tone of that answer,” Nancy said, shaking her head in disapproval. Why don’t you let her do the stripping? You’ve never stripped before. Well…stripped professionally.”
“How difficult travesti istanbul could it possibly be for a trained dancer like me who already knows how to move her body? Then I just have to act enticing and seductive, which comes quite naturally to me already.”
“Well, you’ve got your mind made up, so I see there’s no more use in trying to talk you out of this. I just hope it doesn’t backfire on you.”
“Oh, what could possibly go wrong?”
Nancy rolled her eyes at the clueless question and exited the library, as Angelina turned out the lights.
“On Monday, I’ll let you know if the wedding is off or if I’ve got Thomas right where I want him: wrapped around my gorgeously manicured finger,” she said smiling, following her assistant out the door.
******
“What business did you say your uncle was in, again?” Tom asked Angelina two hours later, as he helped her off with her wrap in the lobby of Aldo’s restaurant in Kearny.
“Construction — but he prefers not to talk about it,” his fiance cautioned, checking her makeup in the foyer’s mirror.
“Why’s that?” Tom asked, handing the wrap off to the coatcheck girl.
“He believes it distasteful to mix business with pleasure.”
The maître d escorted the handsome May-December couple into the dining room to their reserved table, where Uncle Frank was already seated. Recognizing his niece as soon as she entered, the well-dressed short and rotund man rose from his chair and came out to warmly greet her.
“Bonjourno, Angelina,” Uncle Frank said, grabbing his niece gently by the shoulders before planting a kiss on her left cheek and then her right. “Here, let me take a look at you.”
Angelina stepped back so her admiring relative could get an eyeful of her all-black outfit: the long sleeved leather dress cut horizontally three-quarters up her breastbone, revealing just a tasteful hint of cleavage and the matching knee-high boots with the thin four-inch heels.
“Ah…you’re just as lovely as ever,” gushed her proud uncle. “And you still have the figure of a college girl. How do you never age? Oh, you’re going to make an absolutely stunning bride!”
“Why, Uncle Frank, you’re just as charming as ever,” Angelina said with a girlish smile, lovingly touching her uncle’s jowly right cheek with her hand. “Only you would still think of me as a young lady. Uncle Frank, darrhhling, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Thomas Bailey.”
“So, you’re the guy who won my Angelina’s heart,” the older man said, extending a hand out to Tom. “Good to see wit my own eyes you’re actually a guy. I wasn’t so sure, after I got that wedding invite. I thought for a second my lovely niece had saved herself all these years for a woman named Tomassina.”
Angelina rolled her eyes at the unpleasant reminder of how her failure to proofread the invitations before they were mailed out, led to a misunderstanding amongst some of her guests that she was a lesbian.
“You’re a book editor, I hear,” Uncle Frank continued. “So, how come you didn’t catch that?”
“Ah, I wasn’t involved in the invitations,” Tom said, meeting the man’s right hand with his — but then immediately wincing in pain from the vice-like grip. “That was Angeli…”
“Hey, lets eat already, I’m starving,” Uncle Frank said, rudely interrupting the young man in mid sentence as he pulled out Angelina’s chair from under the table so her niece could sit.
Feeling like a bit intimidated by the older man, Tom sat meekly in his seat. Over the course of the hour-long meal, he barely uttered a word — such he be taken down another peg and because Uncle Frank never involved him in the conversation.
“Ahhh…good eats,” a finally-satiated Uncle Frank announced with self-satisfaction, pulling off the cloth napkin he’d tucked into his shirt. Leaning back in his chair — the remnants of his lasagna and spaghetti and meatballs main courses and calamari appetizer before him — an ample stomach stretched the buttons of his three-piece suit.
Signalling that he was finally done eating, Uncle Frank pulled a long, fat cigar out of his breast pocket. His stylish and feminine niece responded in kind, withdrawing her silver cigarette case and 10-inch black cigarette holder from her pocketbook. Uncle Frank took heed before Tom had a chance to react, flicking his lighter and holding it before Angelina the instant she finished fitting a Virginia Slim into the oval hole of her holder. Laying the mouthpiece end on her tongue, Angelina closed her sensuous, crimson-painted lips around it and accepted the light. Releasing the holder from her mouth, she emitted a faint exhale and settled back in her chair.
Appearing totally relaxed and content, the sophisticated woman rested her left elbow — whose hand clutched the cigarette holder — on the table. With her right hand, she absentmindedly played with the silver circular pendant that hung from her necklace, taking occasional soft pulls from her holder and blowing lazy funnels of smoke overhead.
“I istanbul travestileri need to fix my face, would you gentlemen excuse me for a moment?” said the vainglorious woman when she’d finished smoking about half of her cigarette.
In gentleman-like fashion, Uncle Frank began to stand.
“Oh, don’t get up, darrhling,” Angelina stopped him.
Still carrying her cigarette holder cocked at the same angle as it was at the table, Angelina confidently strode to the powder room like she owned the restaurant. Every step of her sexy boots forced her hips to sway as if she were a runway model.
“What a woman,” said a proud and admiring Uncle Frank, watching his niece exit the dining room. “So cultured, classy and beautiful. They don’t make ’em like her any more. She has such taste and elegance, ya know?
“I musta set Angelina up with five or six of my associates over the years. Real successful guys, too. But I guess they weren’t her type. Maybe they were too rough around the edges…too unsophisticated for her. But she apparently thinks you’re the one. Ta think, she’s saved herself this long for marriage. That’s remarkable in this day and age. That’s class, I tell ya. You got a gem of a girl there. A good old fashioned, Cath’lic girl. So be gentle with her. She ain’t sexually experienced.”
Tom practically did a spit take on his glass of water, at the idea that his cougar fiance wasn’t sexually experienced.
Saving herself?! he thought. What planet is this guy from? Angelina has lost her virginity thousands of times over. Shit, just that morning, she practically fucked Tom into next week. Angelina was so sexually experienced she’d be the captain of the professional fucking team, if there was one. Saving herself for marriage?! Who was he kidding?
Uncle Frank leaned back in his chair and examined the young man sitting across from him.
“How old are you?” he asked, after an awkward 20 seconds of silence had passed.
“Twenty…Twenty-four,” Tom finally gulped out.
“Twenty-four? And my niece is 53. That’s quite the age difference. I know she’s a looker and all, but why would a good looking 24-year-old guy marry a 53-year-old woman?”
“I…I…I had a crush on her when I was in school and it never went away. Being with her is my dream come true. I really love her.”
“Well that’s good to know. Ya know, since my brother, her father, passed away, God rest his soul, 29 years ago, I’ve made it my business to look after her. She’s more than a niece to me; she’s like a daughter. When I was 24 I wasn’t so good looking — and I still fucked a lotta women. So, I want to tell ya something. And I want ya to listen real good, ok? If I ever hear you been unfaithful…that you cheated on my sweet, innocent Angelina, I’m going to cut your balls off and staple them to your dick. Capeesh?”
#####
Shortly before 8:00 p.m. on Saturday, April 1, Angelina entered the lobby of the opulent Wintrust Hotel in Teaneck, N.J. and marched straight to the front desk.
“Good evening, miss,” said the desk receptionist. “Checking in?”
“Not really,” Angelina responded. “I wanted to warn you as to what’s happening tonight at your fine five-star hotel.”
“Go on…”
“You have a reservation in the name of Neil Bailey, correct?”
“Let me check.”
The desk receptionist typed Tom’s brother’s name into her computer.
“Why, yes, we do,” she said moments later. “He and his party checked into a suite…room 756 earlier. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I have it on good authority that there’s going to be a wild bachelor party in that room tonight,” Angelina said, leaning in close to the woman and whispering for discretion.
“How wild?”
“At least one stripper.”
“Oh, that kind of thing is strictly frowned upon at the Wintrust.”
The desk receptionist angrily picked up the phone at her desk.
“What are you doing?” Angelina asked.
“I’m calling security to eject this…this…Neil Bailey and his party,” the hotel employee said. “We can’t have that kind of activity here.”
“Actually, I have another idea as to handle this. You see, Neil Bailey is my brother-in-law…or future brother-in-law. I’m going to be married next weekend to his brother, Thomas. Neil’s the best man, who’s throwing this party.”
“Ahhh…I see. So, you’re the devoted and faithful fiancé who’s directly affected by this moral degenerate behavior.”
“That’s right. If you don’t mind, I’d like to confront them directly. Let them know that I know exactly what they’re up to and that I won’t tolerate this kind of debauchery from my future husband. That should discourage them from trying this again. Please, it would make me feel so much better.”
“Yes…lay down the law. Show that man of yours whose boss. Great idea. Men can’t be trusted. Give a man an inch and he’ll take a mile.”
“Thank you for understanding. What room was that, again?”
“Room 756, Miss…”
“It’s Ms….Ms. Lione.”
“A feminist?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“I should have known. You’re so empowered and confident. A feminist wouldn’t let a man get away with having a stripper. Well…the elevator is right around the corner, Ms. Lione.”
“Thank you. And is there a ladies’ room nearby?”