Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 24


March 25, 1988

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 and boot fetishes — how could Tom possibly explain to them that Angelina embodied all that Ataşehir Escort 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?

Bedecked in a short, gray leather skirt, long-sleeve, tight and thin black sweater and black velvet neck choker, Angelina Lione walked quickly across her green and yellow-checkered lawn to her sister, and next door neighbor, Elaine’s house. It was 6:45 p.m. and her bachelorette party wasn’t scheduled to begin for another 15 minutes, but Angelina couldn’t wait any more. She’d been chomping at the bit all day to get this party — her last official soiree as a single woman before her wedding in two weeks — started and didn’t want to waste a moment of it.

As her maid of honor, Elaine had been enlisted (somewhat reluctantly) to plan the bachelorette party. Since the engagement three and a half months earlier, the sisters butted heads about what type of party would be thrown. Terminal party girl Angelina wanted to exit the single scene with a bang and would not be satisfied with anything less than decadence. While Elaine, the older, married and far more sensible of the two, had a more sedate affair in mind. In the end, Angelina prevailed. Afterall, right or wrong, it was her party. If Angelina got too wild, like she did months earlier at her niece, Lisa’s, bachelorette party, when she performed a blow job on the male stripper, well, then she would have to live with the consequences.

“I’m ready to party. Where’s my strippers?” the notorious man chaser asked excitedly, by way of a greeting, when Elaine opened the front door.

“Cool your high heels, sis, geez,” Elaine said, as Angelina and her 3.5-inch, stiletto-heeled, black knee-scraping leather boots barged past her, eyes darting about for signs of a g-string-clad stud. “You’re the first person here. C’mon in, have a drink, relax and wait for everyone else to arrive. Oh, by the way, it’s just gonna be the four of us tonight. Your future sister-in-law called. She’s got a migraine and isn’t up to coming.”


“Why good? I thought you liked Janet.”

“I do. But I don’t know her well enough to trust her. She could turn informant and tell Neil, who will tell his brother, Thomas, about my actions during tonight’s festivities.”

“Oh, Angelina, you’re not planning on going nuts tonight, are you? I’m still having flashbacks about the scene you caused at Lisa’s bachelorette party.”

“Darrhhling, I intend to make that party look like a church social. Ms. Lione intends to transcend into Mrs. Lione-Bailey in grand style — and leave a trail of men in her wake. You did order a pair of exotic dancers for the festivities, didn’t you, darrhhling?”


“Yes, Angelina. I’ve told you that countless times,” Elaine said in dismay. “Can you get the doorbell, please? I’ve got to take the hors d’oevres out of the oven.”

Elaine ducked into the kitchen, while Angelina let Lisa, her niece, and Nancy Allums, her best friend and assistant at the library — who had driven separately but arrived at the same time — into the house.

Forty-five minutes later, the party of four — mostly the guest of honor — were still waiting in awkward silence for the adult entertainment to show.

“More wine, anyone?” Elaine asked her guests, rising from her modest, wood-framed “Edith Bunker” chair to pick up the bottle of mid-priced Merlot from the coffee table.

“Elaine, when did that service say the dancers would arrive?” Angelina asked, ignoring her sister’s question, and twirling her lit cigarette holder anxiously between the index and middle fingers of her left hand.

“They said it’d be any time now.”

“Maybe you should call again.”

“I’ve already called twice. Just be patient and have another Acıbadem Escort drink.”

“Call again!” Angelina demanded, almost shouting, before taking a quick pull from her holder and blowing out a frustrating exhale.

“Okay, one more time,” Elaine said. “Lisa, would you help me with the hors d’oeuvres, please?”

Mother and daughter left the living room and ducked into the kitchen.

“I don’t know how much longer we can stall her with these fake calling stories,” a flustered Elaine whispered to her equally rattled child. “She’s bound to catch on sooner than later.”

“She’s relentless,” Lisa said in amazement, emptying a box of pigs in a blanket onto a plate and popping them in the microwave. “Maybe we woulda been better off actually booking what she wanted.”

“No way. You should have seen her when she walked in — 15 minutes early and wondering where the strippers were. You know I have serious doubts about this marriage, but if she wants to screw it up before it even gets off the ground, she’s not going to do it under my roof.”

“Well, I suppose we can just keep feeding her booze. She never could hold it. After a couple more drinks, she’ll probably pass out, as usual, and we’ll be off the hook.”

“Yeah, that’s a good plan. Or, the only plan we’ve got. We’d better get back to the party, before she gets suspicious.”

Lisa picked up the plate of warm, bite-sized snacks and walked out into the living room, followed by her mother.

“Okay, so when are they coming?” Angelina started, before her relatives had retaken their seats.

“They called into their manager from the road and said they were lost — but they should be here in the next half hour,” Elaine lied.

“Half hour?!”

“Why don’t we have another drink and pass the time with a game of charades?”

Angelina threw up her arms in defeat.

“That’s it,” she said, springing from her seat on the sofa, as she stalked to the front door. “They’re already an hour late. I’m not waiting another half hour. And I’m definitely NOT playing charades at my bachelorette party. I’m driving into the city to find a club and party. If anyone wants to join me, get in my car NOW.”

Elaine and Lisa exchanged a quick glance, then ran out the door in unspoken agreement, realizing they’d better accompany their on-the-prowl, horny relative and act as escorts, or who knows what she’d do. Nancy Allums, who hadn’t been in on the women’s plans, wasn’t sure what was going on, but followed. The three ladies piled into Angelina’s late model Scirocco, and strapped in, as she turned the ignition and sped off towards Manhattan and a night that had suddenly gone off the rails.

Inside of an hour, Angelina had the quartet at the entrance to the famed Copacabana on East 60th Street in Manhattan. Before leading them inside, she left the ghost of her fiance at the front door by removing her engagement ring from her left hand and tucking it under her top and inside her bra for safekeeping. For as much as the shallow woman loved to display her bling, this was neither the time nor the place to show it off — not if she hoped to hookup with a stranger that night.

“Elaine, you and Nancy find us a table in the corner over there. Lisa, help me with the drinks,” Angelina said, directing traffic once the woman had set foot inside.

The group split up, with Angelina leading her niece to the bar.

“Don’t lose me,” said the bookish Nancy, sticking close to Elaine, as the pair pushed their way through the crowd.

“C’mon, there’s an empty table,” Elaine said, speaking over her left shoulder to the woman. “Lets grab it.”

The two made a beeline for a circular table with four seats, set down roots and took stock of their surroundings.

“This isn’t my kinda place,” Nancy said, looking warily about the crowded bar.

“Not mine, either,” Elaine responded. “Lets just try to make the best of it.”

“How long do you think we have to stay here?”

“I dunno, but whatever happens, keep your eye on Angelina. She’s on the prowl.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen that look in her eye since she had her affair with Principal Seymour. Well, it’s been a while since she’s picked up a man. Maybe she’s rusty.”

“Are you kidding? Angelina may be out of practice, but with her, it’s like riding a bike. She’ll never forget how to pick up a man. And with the way she’s dressed — short, tight skirt…attention-getting boots…she’s gonna turn a lotta heads. They’ll be coming onto her, just as much as she’s coming on to them. The best we can hope for is she’s content to dance and flirt a bit. She’ll get it outta her system and they’ll be no damage to her personal life.”

“What’ll you have?” asked the bartender, when Angelina and Lisa had finally weaved their way through the crowd to the bar.

“Four Cosmos,” shouted Angelina, above the din of conversation and music.

The women’s order placed, Angelina turned about to face the room.

“Mmmm…,” she purred, slowly licking her crimson-painted lips, as she intensely scanned the room in search of her next love İstanbul Escort victim. “So many delicious men…and so little time.”

“Here you go, ladies,” the bartender said moments later, placing the drinks in front of Angelina and Lisa. “That’ll be $30.”

“Merci,” Angelina said, reaching into her purse and coming back up with two $20 bills. “Keep the change.”

The women each took two drinks in there hands. But as Angelina wheeled about to walk to their table, a passing patron bumped her right arm, spilling her drink.

“Look what you did!” Angelina reacted angrily, examining the floor where her Cosmo now lay in a puddle near her booted feet. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you clumsy…?”

Casting her eyes north, Angelina became incapable of further expressing her irritation when she got a look at the guilty culprit.

“I so sorry. What have I done?” apologized the tall, well-built, mustachioned man, in broken English, running a hand through his thick and wavy brown hair. “Is the beautiful senorita ok?”

Too taken aback by his Tom Selleck-like appearance to respond, Angelina stared trancelike and open mouthed at the forty-something year-old stranger with the chiseled movie star features.

“Please. Allow me to buy you a new drink.”

“I…I…” responded the tongue-tied Angelina.

“Sorry, my aunt’s a little shy,” said Lisa, stepping in to answer for the smitten Angelina, who was rendered virtually speechless. “She was drinking a Cosmo.”

Charmed, the man flashed a smile straight out of a toothpaste commercial, before turning toward the bar to order a drink to replace the one he had spilled.

“Here you go,” he said moments later, handing off the new Cosmopolitan to Angelina. “My name is Lorenzo. What is your name?”


Lisa, who was standing behind her aunt, delivered a subtle nudge to the mesmerized woman’s lower back.

“Angelina,” the librarian finally said, the elbow seemingly dislodging the name from her mouth.

“A lovely name, for a lovely woman,” Lorenzo said softly, taking Angelina’s right hand in his and delicately kissing the top of it.

“Ahh….haaa…,” replied a blushing Angelina, giggling like a schoolgirl at the suave and gentlemanly gesture.

“Would you care to dance with me, Angelina?”

Staring longingly into Lorenzo’s chiseled face, Angelina handed her purse and Cosmopolitan off to Lisa before the cosmopolitan stranger whisked the star-struck woman away to the dance floor.

“Where’s Angelina?” Mrs. Allums asked five minutes later when Lisa found her way to the women’s table unaccompanied by her aunt.

“She made a new friend,” the young woman said, placing her aunt’s drink and purse on the table before pointing to the dance floor in front of them.

“Oh, crap!” exclaimed Elaine, spotting her racy sister in the arms of the handsome stranger. “I’ve seen this movie before; many times. This is gonna be trouble.”

For the next 20 minutes, the trio watched helplessly and with mounting alarm and dread as their sister/aunt/boss intimately salsa danced with the macho Lorenzo. A ballerina in her youth and an accomplished disco dancer as an adult, Angelina was as nimble on her feet in a nightclub as she was agile on her back in the bedroom. Lorenzo proved to be every bit the talented hoofer’s dancing equal, as they grooved in time to the Latin beat. Only exhaustion drove the pair off the dance floor.

“Ohhh…I need to take a break,” said Angelina, between heavy breaths, as she took her partner by the hand and led him to the bachelorette party table.

“Lorenzo, I’d like you to meet my sister, Elaine, niece Lisa and assistant and friend Nancy,” she said, introducing him to the women around the table. “Everyone, this is Lorenzo. Please join us, darrhhling.”

Lorenzo gently shook hands with each of them and proceeded to take the lone seat left. Angelina, their intimate dance time together apparently having now put her completely at ease with the Latin heartthrob and restored her self-confidence, promptly followed, sitting suggestively on his lap.

Angelina crossed her booted legs, draped her right arm around Lorenzo’s neck and with her left hand reached across his body and down to the table for her Cosmopolitan.

“Where ever did you learn to dance like that, darrhhling?” she asked pretentiously, after taking a refreshing sip of her drink.

“Colombia,” the suave man answered.

“So, is that where you’re from, darrhhling?”


“I should have known. The way you transitioned from New York to Cumbia style was so effortless. It was absolutely divine, darrhhling.”

Angela placed her drink back on the table, then reached into her purse for her elegant silver cigarette case and holder. As she deftly screwed a Virginia Slim into the long black tube, Lorenzo reached into the left breast pocket of his navy blue sportscoat and emerged with a gold cigarette lighter. Her cigarette holder now readied for smoking, Angelina placed the mouthpiece at the tip of her crimson-painted lips and awaited a light from her new man friend. Lorenzo obliged and the sexy Angelina guided the holder toward the flame, allowed it to briefly touch the end of her cigarette, then backed away, drew the smoke into her lungs and playfully and seductively extinguished the light with her exhale.

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