Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 12

"I feel really... wet...did you make love to me, while I was out?" she asked uneasily, while still lying on her back.

"No. That's probably from your orgasm. Besides, you broke up with me, remember?"

"Oh, right. How long was I out?" Angelina asked, slowly swinging her black leather, knee-high boots to the floor, before rubbing each side of her temple with her hands.

"I don't know. Your usual, I guess. Well, now that you're okay, I'm going to get going. Take care. Have a nice life."

As Tom started to walk out of the house, Angelina realized what caused her to faint and jumped to her feet, wobbled a bit on her high-heeled boots as the blood returned to her head, then darted to block the front door.

"No, wait. What's the rush?" she asked, now standing between Tom and his freedom.

"Well, it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow."

"How about a drink? One for the road?"

"No, thanks."

Desperate to keep Tom in her house, Angelina tried the illness card.

"Oh, maybe I stood up too fast," she said, one hand on her head, while the other clutched her stomach. "I feel faint again. Darling, would you mind carrying me to my bedroom, so I can lie down?"

But Tom wasn't buying the act.

"Goodbye, Angelina."

Quickly "recovering," Angelina played her last card in the deck.

"Then, how about we make love one last time?" she asked, in her best femme fatale impression, as she wrapped both arms around Tom's neck.

"No can do. I make it a policy not to fool around with another man's woman," Tom replied, removing her arms from his body.

"But it's not official, or anything. I haven't even told Harry."

"Angelina, cut the crap! You broke up with me and NOW you're coming on to me?! I can't take this back and forth. No more games. Once and for all. Make up your damn mind. Who do you want to be with, Mr. Seymour or me?"

"You, Thomas," Angelina answered in a serious, sultry voice.

"Because I smoked a cigar and it made you horny, right?"

"In part, yes. I have to say, that put you over the top. You know I love a man who smokes a cigar, and Harry quit smoking, as you know."

"Well, at least you're honest. I suppose I can't really judge or be a hypocrite. You know that your holder smoking is a HUGE turn on for me. I'm glad me smoking a cigar did it for you, but I want you to think of me as a boyfriend, not just as some guy who turns you on. While we can have mindblowing sex based on our fetishes, we can't sustain a long-term, meaningful relationship on fetishes. You know that. I need to know if you really care for me, because I care for you. I don't know why, but even when you act snobbish, bitchy and arrogant - which is very often, I might add - I somehow still care greatly for you. I think about you all the time...nearly went out of my head with worry and jealousy these past few weeks whenever you went out with Mr. Seymour. It ate me up knowing full well that when you were with him he was making love to you. I...I think I'm falling in love with you."

Angelina stared deeply into Tom's eyes.

"I care for you, my darling. Very much," she said softly. "But it's complicated. I can't just turn my feelings for Harry off, like I'm turning off a faucet. You're further along right now in your feelings for me. And that's just the way it is. Maybe one day I'll catch up to you."

Tom took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts.

"Okay, but for the time being, do you care enough now to commit to just me, and not date Mr. Seymour or anyone else, right?" he asked a few seconds later.

"Yes. Just you, darling. I promise."

"Then call him right now and end it, for good."

"Now?"

"Now!"

Angelina walked to the wall-mounted telephone in the kitchen, tentatively picked up the receiver and dialed Harry's number. The conversation was brief, but hit all of the touchpoints Tom hoped to hear.

"How'd he take it?" Tom asked, when Angelina hung up the phone and returned to the living room.

"Actually, pretty well," Angelina answered, as if surprised. "He didn't really object. In fact, he almost sounded relieved."

"Good. Well, good night."

Tom pivoted away from his once-again girlfriend, and walked to the front door.

"Where are you going?" Angelina asked? "You got what you want. I'm all yours now, with no strings attached."

"Yes, I'm very happy. And you will be, too. I'll be the most devoted, loving boyfriend you've ever had - and that includes Mr. Seymour. I'm going to treat you like a queen. Good night."

"Wait. What? You're leaving?! Why don't you stay over? We could make love all night."

"Not tonight. I'm not in the mood."

"But I AM in the mood! What do you expect me to do?"

Angelina folded her arms across her chest and stood defiantly. Thomas turned back around, then calmly walked back to her, slipped his hand into his breast pocket blazer and produced a fresh Panatella.

"Here," he said coolly, handing the cigar to his lover and giving her a peck on the cheek. "See where this takes you. Call you tomorrow."

And as Tom turned around and headed out of Angelina's house, the sexy librarian stood stunned, mouth agape, struggling to recall if any other man in her sexual history had ever resisted her charms, then struggled to comprehend the strange turn of events that led her to switch her choice of lovers in such a short span. Tom was like no other lover she'd ever had. What, she wondered, had she gotten herself into?