Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 15

Becky handed the holder back to Angelina, who now also clutched her gold lighter.

"That lighter is elegant, too," an impressed Becky said. "May I have a light, please?"

Uncostumed to offering lights, only receiving them, Angelina flicked her lighter and presented the flame to her tablemate, who with the index and middle fingers of her left hand put her cigarette between her lips then leaned in toward the fire. After accepting the light, she withdrew the slim cigarette from her mouth, arched her neck and exhaled toward the ceiling. She really is a strikingly beautiful girl, Angelina said to herself, before lighting her cigarette holder.

"Thank you," Becky said, an instant before looking over Angelina's shoulder toward the stage. "Hey, they're going on now."

Angelina turned to her left and saw Tom and his three bandmates take their places on the small stage.

"Will Tom share a microphone with someone else?" Angelina asked Becky, noticing that he was the only member of the group who did not have a microphone in front of him.

"Doubt it," his ex-girlfriend replied. "Tom doesn't like to sing. He's got a nice voice. I always encouraged him to sing, but he's too shy. Would rather just play his guitar. He's a really good player, though. He can play rhythm and lead. Wait till you see him."

Angelina nodded like she understood, but the woman's who's musical knowledge and interest began and ended with Sinatra had no idea what the terms "rhythm" and "lead" meant.

"Hey. Thanks for coming," said the band's frontman, grabbing his mic stand with two hands and addressing the crowd. "I'm Paul, and we're the Stags."

The band preceded to launch into a set list of classic rock covers mixed in with a couple original tunes. To the musically-out-of-touch baby boomer librarian, however, they all sounded like originals - and were all loud and obnoxious. It was not only offensive to her ears, but an attack to her genteel sensibilities.

Becky was right about one thing, though, Angelina noticed. Tom's fingers had an uncommon dexterity on the electric guitar. In his strong but delicate hands, he could make it do anything he wanted. The soulful way Tom played his solos reminded Angelina of how her young boyfriend's fingers danced on her pussy during foreplay. The thought caused her to vaginally secrete. His complete mastery on the instrument was spellbindingly sexually arousing and the only thing that made the show remotely tolerable for the snooty woman to sit through in her dried beer, sticky seat.

At the end of the 40-minute gig, The Stags left the stage to thunderous applause - led by their table of friends and "groupies."

"That was the best I've ever heard you play!" gushed head cheerleader Becky, flinging her arms around Tom's neck after the band waded through a sea of well-wishers.

"We were tight the whole night," Tom beamed.

"So tight that the manager just asked us if we can play again tomorrow night," Paul added.

So, I have to come back again?! Angelina wondered to herself, as the rest of the table erupted in cheers.

"Let's go someplace and celebrate," suggested the drummer's girlfriend.

"What's wrong with here?" Tom replied, picking up the one-fifth filled pitcher of beer on the table and chugging it.

At 11:35 p.m., Angelina pulled her bright red Volkswagen Shirocco into her driveway. Exiting the car, a light shining from her sister's family's otherwise dark house next door drew her attention. Recognizing it as coming from her 23-year-old niece Lisa's groundfloor bedroom, Angelina walked briskly across the frozen lawn and softly knocked on the front door so as not to awaken the rest of the house. After a series of increasingly louder knocks the door finally cracked open from the inside.

"Aunt Ang? What are you doing here?" Lisa asked in a whisper, peering out to the stoop.

"Hi, Lisa. I just got home and noticed your light was on. Mind if I come in for a minute?"

"Well, I was just about to go to bed, but sure."

Lisa swung the door open fully and her aunt stepped inside, stopping on the welcome mat.

"Is there something wrong?" a concerned Lisa ask, still whispering.

"I think...I don't know," her aunt answered, also in a whisper.

"Everyone's asleep. Lets go into my room and talk."

Lisa led the way down the hall, through the first open door on the right, shutting the door quietly after Angelina entered.

"So, what's the problem?" Lisa asked, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

Too upset to sit in the chair in the corner, Angelina could only pace around the room.

"I can't get my thoughts together," the distressed woman answered.

Lisa reached out her and took gentle hold of her aunt's arm.

"Just calm down and start from the beginning," the young woman advised.

"Well, tonight I went out to Hoboken to see Tom's rock band perform at a bar," Angelina said, after taking a deep inhale and blowing out.

"You never told me he was in a band. That's cool. What instrument does he play?"

"He plays guitar."

"Okay, sorry. Continue."

"I watched with his friends - including his ex-girlfriend from college. Lisa, I tell you, between the music, atmosphere and the company, I never felt so awkward and out of place. I felt like the pub's grandmother. And tomorrow night I get a repeat performance, because his band's playing there again."

"Well, there's an age difference between you that can't be denied."

"When I'm with Tom I don't notice it as much, but with everyone else...tonight...it just felt more... pronounced."

"Were they nice to you, at least?"

"They were fine. I mostly talked to his ex, Becky, who's sinfully gorgeous, by the way."

"So? He's with you now."

"But for how long? She's in town for a job interview next week. I think she wants to get back together with him."

"Just because she's here for a job interview?! I think you're overreacting, Aunt Ang."

"Am I? You weren't at the pub. She flirted and touched him all night - right in front of me, no less! And the worst thing was Tom didn't seem to mind. I couldn't take it anymore, so when they left the bar for a party, I headed home. Who knows WHAT Tom and her are doing now?"

"That's all silly, jealous speculation."

"Oh, is it? He's going to leave me and get back together with her. I just know it. Woman to woman, what can I do about it?"

"Well, one thing you can do is not give up. The aunt I know would never let another woman steal her man. The aunt I know can juggle two men at a time and be on the lookout for more."

"So, what can I do?"

"Well, for starters, you can start dressing cooler. I'd lose everything but those high-heeled boots. That boring brown sweater and long skirt - they're too conservative. You look like you just came from work, or church, not a night out with your boyfriend. I'm sorry, Aunt Ang, but that's just a lazy outfit combo. I'll bet Becky didn't dress like that. You're very sexy - and young for your age. You could easily pass for 35."

"But..."

"But, if you want to stay that way and keep a young guy like Tom happy, you're going to have to step up your game. You have to spice things up once in a while; dress like a groupie. You have the figure for it, Aunt Ang. Flaunt it!"

Rising from the bed, Lisa went to her closet and pulled out a clothes hanger holding up a low-cut, tan tank top blouse with spaghetti straps.

"You're about a size 6, right?" she asked, holding the skirt up to her aunt's chest.

"Eight," Angelina replied.

"It'll be a little tight, but I bet this would still look great on you. Richie loves this on me and I bet Tom would flip if he saw you in this and those stiletto boots. He wouldn't be able to take his eyes off you or resist you. Wear this tomorrow night and trust me, it'll cut that age difference down to zero. You might even get hit on by other guys, and that would really get Tom's attention."

"I dunno, Lisa," Angelina said, shaking her head in disagreement. "Don't you think the hemline's a little short? These tassles in front don't really do a good job of covering a girl's privates too well, do they?"

"That's its appeal. It's daring and sexy. Just remember to tug it down a bit when you cross your legs, so your panties don't show."

"Yeah, still...I haven't worn anything this provocative in public since the early '70s, when mini-skirts were in fashion."

"Don't be afraid to slut it up a little every once in awhile; keeps your boyfriend on his toes."

"But it's so skimpy. There's hardly anything to this and it's going to be like 15 degrees tomorrow night."

"But once you get to the bar, you'll be fine. It's always warm in a bar. I'm telling you, you need to fight fire with fire, if you think Becky wants him back. Tom may not really know it, because he's kinda shy, but he's a good-looking guy. You didn't find some diamond in the rough. Other women will notice him and will come on to him, if they haven't already. And girls love guys who play in a band.

Angelina walked over to her the full-length mirror in the corner of her niece's bedroom, pressed the blouse to her bossom and studied herself in the reflection.

"Okay, you've convinced me," she said, a moment later, her mood changing 180 degrees. "Tomorrow night I'll dazzle him. Becky, eat your heart out! Now, Lisa...tell me, what's a groupie?"

January 10, 1988

As planned, Angelina showed up for Tom's rock show rocking the most overtly sexy outfit she'd worn in public in nearly 20 years. Strutting like she owned the place, Angelina prompty made a beeline to the table in front of the stage that Tom told her ahead of time had been reserved for the band's friends. It was just ten minutes before show time, yet the table was empty. Moments after Angelina shed the black leather coat, borrowed from Lisa to complete the groupie look, Becky arrived on the scene.

"Well, don't you look lovely," greeted the friendly blonde, as she sat down on the far side of the four-seated table.

"Hello, dear," Angelina said to her suspected rival, who was dressed for the part of boyfriend stealer in thigh-high burgundy boots, short leather skirt and a tight black sweater. "Where's the rest of the gang?'

"I think it's just us tonight. Everyone else either has other plans or is still nursing a hangover from yesterday. That was a fun night. Didn't get home till after 3:00. I won't be drinking tonight, that's for sure."

Angelina didn't ask - and didn't really want to know - which home Becky was referring to, as Tom told her his ex was staying with girlfriends this weekend.

The pair exchanged forgettable small talk off and on for the next few minutes until The Stags took the stage. Tom broke into a toothy smile when he saw their familiar faces, before strapping on his Fender Stratocaster and plugging it into his amplifier. The band then launched into the same set list as the night before, and again the crowd was energetic and responsive.

"Thank you so much!" said Paul, the lead singer, after the Stags played what Angelina and Becky recognized as the last song of their set list. "We're going to take a short break and then be back for an encore."

"An encore?!" I don't ever recall them playing an encore," Becky said to Angelina, as the band filed off the stage. "Wow, I've no idea what they'll play next. This is exciting!"

Seizing on the lull in the show, Angelina reached into her purse and pulled out her long, white cigarette holder - one of the new ones Tom had recently bought her - and plugged in a Virginia Slim.

"Sorry to ask again, but can I have one?" Becky asked.

Angelina graciously held out her cigarette case and Becky removed one. The statuesque blonde then reached into her handbag and brought back a long black cigarette holder, nearly identical in length and style to the one Angelina smoked from the night before.

"I liked the look of yours so much that I went to a smokeshop today and bought my own," Becky said, admiring it in her fingers.

Meanwhile, Angelina did a slow burn. Tom's ex was co-opting her smoking accessory, she thought. Using a holder was what Angelina felt set her apart from other women who just smoked a regular cigarette. Angelina felt threatened and paranoid, like Becky was somehow trespassing on her turf. The suspicious librarian now wondered if the ex had deduced that Tom had a thing for women who did.

As Becky fastened the cigarette into her holder, a male patron of about her age walked by their table, paused, then turned back and initiated a light to her cigarette. Becky smiled up at the man before placing the holder in her mouth and accepting the light. Hoping to piggy back on the light, Angelina accordingly put her holder in her mouth.

"That's a cool-looking holder," the guy said.

"Thanks," Becky responded, after executing a nose-mouth exhale.

The man then walked away, seemingly unaware that there was another woman at the table who also had a "cool-looking" holder and was in need of a light.

Embarrassed over the slight, Angelina attempted to quickly recover her dignity by pulling a lighter out of her purse and lighting the cigarette holder that was still dangling from her mouth. Dropping the lighter back into her purse, Angelina noticed Tom, guitar strapped to his shoulder, striding onto the stage, alone. After plugging the guitar into his amp, Tom walked up to the microphone that had previously been used by the lead singer.

"I'm Tom," the young man said, as feedback shot out of the speakers and pierced the ears of the audience. "Sorry about that. I'm not usually a singer, but if you don't mind, I'd like to sing one song. It's dedicated to someone special here tonight. She knows who she is."

Angelina cracked a confident closed-mouth smile, took a drag on her long white cigarette holder, exhaled overhead and - noticing that Tom was eyeing her table - slowly uncrossed her booted legs and lifted the tassles of her blouse to give her boyfriend an eyeful of what those tassles of her absurdly short blouse had barely been hiding: her bush. Completely uncovered by panty or thong. Naked, neatly trimmed and all his for the taking.

Flustered by the unexpected sight of his booted, white cigarette holder smoking girlfriend decked out in her new, sexy outfit flashing her privates at him and his booted ex-girlfriend's inaugural smoking of a cigarette in a long black holder, Tom dropped his pick on the stage. After fumbling about for it, he finally gathered it and his composure and stood again before the mic stand. Now with eyes downcast toward the guitar, Tom strummed a G chord once and the song started off. Then, moving down the neck of the guitar near the bridge, he launched into a melodic pattern of mellow string bends and arpeggio-picked notes. The intro complete, he returned his hands up the neck, began picking notes on those chords, closed his eyes to keep from staring at the fetish overload sitting side by side in front of him - as well as to avoid making eye contact with the audience - and added his voice to the song.

It's late in the evening...she's wondering what clothes to wear

She puts on her makeup...and brushes her long blonde hair

("long blonde hair"...Angelina thought to herself, her smile suddenly turning into a look of concern. That's not me. That's Becky!)

And then she asks me, do I look alright

And I say yes, you look wonderful tonight

We go to a party...and everyone turns to see

This beautiful lady...who's walking around with me

("Hey, they went to a party last night!", Angelina seethed, as she re-crossed her booted legs, shutting off access to her naked bush)

And then she'll ask me...do you feel alright

And I'll say yes, I feel wonderful tonight

I feel wonderful, because I see the love light in your eyes

And the wonder of it all, is that you just don't realize how much I love you

It's time to go home now...and I've got an aching head

So I give her the car keys...she helps me to bed

And then I tell her, as I turn out the light

My darling, you are wonderful tonight

Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight

The lyrics sung, Tom repeated the Wonderful Tonight intro on the guitar and in true slow-hand fashion, unhurriedly picked the last few notes.

The guitarist's singing debut was a hit with everyone in the crowd but Angelina, apparently clueless that the tune her boyfriend had just crooned was a cover of Eric Clapton's classic love song.

The band returned to the stage and played three songs, but the preoccupied librarian may as well as not heard any of them. When Tom joined her and Becky at the table after the show, Angelina all but gave him the cold shoulder, feighning a headache from sitting so close to the speakers and having to get up early for work the following morning as the excuses for making an early exit from the bar.

"If that's who he wants to be with, then fine!" Angelina said aloud in the car, angrily flooring the Scirocco's gas pedal with the toe of her right boot onto the New Jersey Turnpike heading northwest to the suburbs. The hot and now hot-headed librarian was no less upset 45 minutes later when she stormed into her house, slamming the front door behind her - but now she had plotted her revenge. Picking up the telephone, she dialed Tom's apartment.

"Hello, darling, it's me," Angelina said panting breathlessly into the phone, after Tom picked up on the second ring. "I need you to come over right now! There was a man outside and...and..."

"A man outside?!" he asked. "What are you talking about? Angelina, slow down and start from the beginning."

"Okay...when I pulled into my driveway just now I caught a man in the headlights lurking behind my house. I think I scared him away but I'm not sure. Can you come over and spend the night? Please?"

"Did you call your sister's house? Can Rocco or Anthony come over to keep you company?"

"No one's home. Please, darling. I'm afraid to be alone."

"Alright. Make sure all the doors and windows are locked and the shades are drawn - and don't answer the door for anyone but me. I'll be over as fast as I can."

Angelina gently placed the phone on its cradle, plopped down on the love seat in her living room, folded her hands behind her head, stretched her booted legs out over the coffee table in front of her and crossed them at the ankles. Lisa was right, she thought to herself, admiring her boots and short blouse. I do look sexy in this. Maybe she'll let me borrow this when I go out on my next date - whenever that is...and with whomever that is.

"At least he won't be making love to Becky tonight," she announced to an empty room, breaking into a contented, self-satisfied smile over her dramatic improvisational acting performance. "If Thomas thinks he's making love to me tonight, he's got another coming. I can't wait to lower the boom on him."

Over in Hoboken, Tom turned to Becky, who was reclining on the couch in his living room.

"I gotta go, Angelina needs me. Sorry," he said frantically, before grabbing his coat and car keys and bolting out the apartment door.

Exceeding the various city and highway speed limits on his route by 10-15 mph, Tom made it to Angelina's house in little over a half an hour.

Noticing the car headlights in her driveway, Angelina mentally got back into character.

"Angelina!" It's me," said the young man, moments later, pounding a fist on her front door.

"Thomas?" she asked from behind the locked door.

"Yes, let me in."

Angelina unbolted the door, swung it open and collapsed into her boyfriend's arms.

"It's okay, I'm here now," Tom reassured her, still physically holding her up as he entered the house and closed the door behind him. "No one's going to hurt you."

Tom gently led his girlfriend over to the sofa.

"Relax and I'll fix you a drink," he said, making sure Angelina was comfortably seated before he went to the wet bar in the corner of the room and poured her a glass of vodka.