Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 20

"Hi...uhh...Angelina...it's me...Tom. You didn't say I couldn't call you at home. Just wanted to talk more. Call me back. Bye."

Angelina pressed the skip button for message #2.

"Hi...Tom again. You didn't call back so just making sure you got my first message. Call back...please."

Angelina rolled her eyes and pressed the skip button for message #3.

"It's me again, Tom. It's getting late. Just wanted to see if you're okay. Call me b..."

Cutting off her boyfriend's message, an annoyed Angelina pressed the skip button. This message was also from Tom. This time she deleted it after "Hi." She had even less patience after pressing the button for the final message, deleting it as soon as she heard his voice.

"Needy fellow, isn't he?" Sharon said, plopping down on the sofa next to the phone.

"I don't feel like calling him back now," Angelina said in disgust at what she interpreted as the '80s versions of a literal booty call, tossing her jacket on the companion sofa to the right, before sitting next to Sharon.

"So don't. Call him back at your convenience, not his."

"You're right. By the way, thanks again for chasing off that guy at the bar, who tried to pick me up. If you weren't there I probably would have had a one-night stand. You saved me from making another mistake."

"He wasn't right for you. You need to break out of this rut of jumping into bed so quickly with guys."

Angelina reached out and tenderly touched the top of the woman's hand with hers.

"You're such a good friend, Sharon, she said, gazing warmly into the gym teacher's eyes. "Thank you for looking out for my well-being."

Angelina turned her head away and politely covered her mouth with her hand to contain a relaxed yawn. Then she stretched her booted legs across the coffee table and arched her back, the movement thrusting her firm and perky breasts into the air.

"Oh, this is the most relaxed I've felt all week," Angelina declared with a contented smile, turning back to her friend. "Would you like some coffee, darrhlling?"

Sharon failed to respond, distracted by the lovely librarian's sexy bod.

"Darrhlling? Angelina asked. "Are you there? Hello... "

"Oh, yes, that'd be great," Sharon answered, her mind snapping back into the moment. "I can help you."

"Nonsense, darhhling. Sit and relax. I've got it."

Angelina rose from the couch and went to the kitchen. Minutes later she returned with a tray holding two cups of decaf and a small bowl of sugar.

"Sharon, I feel so embarrassed," Angelina said, setting the tray down on the coffee table and settling back onto her seat on the sofa. "All we've done tonight is talk about me and the men in my life. I want to hear about you. Who are you dating?"

"Well, there really isn't much to tell," the woman replied, taking a sip of her black coffee.

"Oh, come now. An attractive girl like you must have a lot of gentlemen callers."

"Not lately."

"I know how difficult it is, but don't give up. You've got a lot going for you. You're blonde, with a very pretty face."

"You think so, Angelina?"

"Absolutely. You're gorgeous. You just need to wear some makeup and freshen up your wardrobe a bit. I bet underneath those rumpled sweats is a fantastic figure. Excuse me for a moment, won't you? I left the saucer of milk in the kitchen."

Angelina sprang from the sofa and began to walk back to the kitchen.

"Wait," Sharon said, standing up.

"It's no bother at all, darrhhlling," Angelina said, turning around to face her friend.

"That's not it. Angelina...I just wanted to tell you...uh...I've had a really good time with you tonight."

"Well, so, have I, dear. So have I."

"We get along well and seem to have great chemistry. And I find you extremely..."

"Extremely...?"

"Extremely..."

Rather than tell -- or unable to explain -- her feelings for Angelina, Sharon promptly demonstrated them, taking the librarian in her arms and planting a hot, passionate kiss on her mouth. Too overcome by surprise to resist, the wide-eyed Angelina could only ride the embrace out until Sharon had finished. After some 15 seconds, Sharon unlocked her lips from Angelina and released the awestruck woman from her arms.

"Ahhhh.....ahhhh....ohhhh....ohhh...ohhhhhhh...." Angelina moaned, a moment later when Sharon's unexpected sexual advancement fully registered in her brain, eyes rolling up in her head and fainting backwards, her body bouncing on the couch cushions a few times before coming to rest.

"That didn't go as planned," Sharon said aloud softly, wiping Angelina's lipstick from her mouth. "Guess you're not quite ready to be my lover."

Embarrassed over misreading Angelina's intentions, the gym teacher didn't bother to try to revive her friend, preferring to instead grab a folded blanket from the top of the sofa and drape it over the uncounscious woman's body to keep her warm.

Sharon kissed Angelina gently on the lips and turned to sneak out of the house. Pausing at the front door, she turned back and gazed longingly at her passed out friend.

"Angelina, for your sake, I really hope your boyfriend appreciates what he has in you. I woulda loved to fuck you. Damn, he's a lucky SOB."

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At 8:01 a.m. the next morning the ringing of the telephone next to her head shook Angelina from the slumber that started with a faint and neatly transitioned into uninterrupted deep sleep that lasted through the night.

"Hello?" Angelina answered in a cracking, rough voice, after fumbling for the receiver.

"Angelina! Oh, thank god," Tom said with relief from the other end of the phone. "I tried to reach you a bunch of times last night, but you didn't answer."

"I was out. What do you want, Tom?"

"I'd like to see you."

"I don't feel like making love right now."

"Making love?! I just want to see you. I feel like you've been avoiding me all week. Can I come over?"

"Actually...that's not a bad idea. Just give me a couple hours to make myself presentable."

Angelina hung up the phone and took stock of her condition.

How much did I have to drink last night? the librarian asked herself, noticing that she was still dressed in the same -- now wrinkled blouse and pencil skirt -- and boots from the night before. "Odd, I don't feel hung over."

Thinking no more of what caused her to sleep on the sofa, Angelina got up to get ready for her boyfriend's visit. True to form, she cleaned up well. Exceptionally well. By the time Tom rang the doorbell at 10:15, she had showered, made up her face and looked nothing short of spectacular, in a light brown turtleneck and form-fitting beige pants -- the legs covered in chocolate colored, knee high, high-healed boots.

"Hey," Tom said with smile, when Angelina answered the front door.

The young man went in for a kiss on the lips as he walked into the house, but Angelina turned her head so he got a cheek instead. Turning her back to Tom, the woman strode into the living room, reached down to the coffee table, cracked open her mahogany cigarette box, removed a Virginia Slim and slipped it into the black holder that was lying next to the case. Tom followed and promptly took the gold cigarette lighter from the table, held it up to his lover's face and flicked it. Without looking at him, Angelina put the holder into her mouth and accepted the light.

"Angelina, what's wrong?" Tom asked, closing the lighter to extinguish the flame.

"Us, I've been thinking lately that we have a very shallow and superficial relationship," said a concerned-sounding Angelina, after slipping the holder out of her mouth, her words accompanied by short puffs of smoke.

"What do you mean?"

"After a year together, I realized that our whole relationship is nothing more than a sham, based entirely around sex."

"What? Where are you getting this from. Not to...?"

"Please. Let me finish."

Angelina walked away from Tom and took another draw on her holder, as she gathered her thoughts.

"Now, don't get me wrong, darrhhling," she said, in a talk exhale, pivoting on her high-heels back to face her boyfriend. "Making love to you is fantastic. We have fabulous sexual chemistry. Simply fabulous. Rarely, as you very well know, is the occasion when you don't bring me to blissful orgasmic heights that lead me to pass out. But I'm concerned that our sex life has been to the detriment of the rest of our relationship."

"I don't understand," asked a puzzled Tom. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"This isn't all your fault. I'm just as much to blame. Maybe even more because so often I've been the sexual aggressor."

"I love that. It turns me on like crazy."

"I know. But I'm afraid I've overdone it. In my quest to keep you interested in me, you've become preoccupied with sex. We both have. So, after a year of 'dating' we're basically still on square one. Remember on our first night together, I said I didn't want to jump into bed with a frat boy who'd blow his load in me the instant we hit the sheets? Well, bravo, darrhhling, you've proved you're not like that physically. Sexually, you're a stallion. And what woman wouldn't want that? But I'm not getting any younger. I need a man who loves me as much as he loves making love to me. Do you understand?"

"But I'm totally devoted to you."

"Are you sure you're not devoted to 'it' rather than to 'me'?"

"Of course."

Angelina's tone suddenly grew angry as she went on the offensive.

"Then why when I lunched with your mother did she say she had to remind you it was our anniversary?" she asked, with all the venom of a trial lawyer attacking a hostile witness.

"I...uh...that's not true," he said, surprised by the question. "But...but...you know how she is. My mother's totally manipulative. She probably said that to plant a seed of doubt in your head. And looks like she was successful."

"Okay. Let's assume that's true. But actions speak louder than words. It doesn't explain the way things have been lately. Yes, we may see each other regularly, but it's not like before. We used to take little trips...weekend getaways, etc. Lately, nothing. I can't even remember the last time your took me to a nice restaurant. You don't even treat me like a girlfriend any more. Now, it's just sex. I wish you had an answer for that."

Angelina turned her back to Tom and began to weep.

"How's this for an answer?" Tom asked.

Angelina turned back around to see her boyfriend holding a small, rectangular-shaped jewelry box.

"Happy anniversary, Angelina," Tom said.

Angelina took the box. Prying it open, she found a silver necklace with a heart-shaped, diamond-encrusted pendant.

"Oh, Thomas," Angelina gasped. A woman who loved her bling.

"Do you like it?" He asked, somehow unable to read her reaction.

"Darrhhling, it's beautiful."

"This is why I haven't taken you out lately. I'm sorry, but I've been saving as much money as I can to buy you this. I meant to give it to you last Saturday, but that obviously didn't happen. Here, let me help you put it on."

Tom gently took the necklace from Angelina's hand, walked behind her and fastened it around her neck. The woman then gazed into the mirror in the foyer to see how it looked on her.

"I love it," Angelina said, admiring how the necklace complemented her turtleneck.

"And I love you, Angelina," Tom said softly, now appearing in the mirror behind her. "I love everything about you."

"I know, darrhhling. And I love you, too."

"Really, you do?"

"I do, darrhhling. Now that I understand everything."

"Oh, man. You've probably known from the beginning how I feel about you, but I've been waiting to hear those words from you for so long."

"But it's still good to actually hear, darrhhling. Was it worth the wait?"

"Absolutely! I'm going to make you so happy. Come here."

The 6'3" Tom enveloped the 5'5" Angelina in an all-consuming but gentle bear hug.

"Oh, I was such a fool to doubt your intentions," Angelina said. "It's just that what your mother said and then you not taking me out..."

"It's okay," Tom said, right arm still curled around his lover's waist, as he held his left index finger up to her lips as a signal to stop rambling. "I get it."

"Well, you're about to, darrhhling."

Angelina smiled coyly and reached her right hand down and placed it on Tom's groin. In seconds, her action had its intended effect, as his dick engorging from the size of a hotdog to a bratwurst.

"Make-up sex can be the best kind of sex," the woman said with a twinkle in her eye behind the lenses of her tinted, oversized glasses.

Tom leaned over, unfolded Angelina's turtleneck and passionately began munching on her exposed neck. His action, too, had its intended effect, as she closed her eyes and moaned her approval, vaginal secretions slowly seeping from the walls of her pussy.

By now, Angelina had dropped her loose grip on Tom's crotch and was content to simply enjoy his foreplay. In fact, her whole body was turning to jello; Tom's arm the only thing keeping her limp body vertical.

"So, where...(kiss) were you...(kiss)... last night (kiss)?" Tom asked, between hot munches on Angelina's neck.

"Skippers," she said, eyes still closed.

"Who'd you go with?"

"Sharon Porter...from school."

"The gym teacher?"

"Yes. Keep it up, darrhhling. Don't stop. Oh... this is fabulous."

"Is she still dating the art teacher, Miss Turk?"

The question startled Angelina and she opened her eyes and knitted her brow.

"Why would she date Miss Turk?" Angelina asked.

"Cuz she's a...(kiss) lesbian," Tom replied, still concentrating on the sexual task at hand. "That was the worst kept secret in the school."

Apparently, Angelina was never in on the secret -- or the particulars of Sharon's sexuality. As Tom continued to nibble away on her neck, Angelina began to recall details from the previous night that his bombshell news triggered in her mind.

"Uhhh....Oooooo...." Angelina exclaimed, fainting back at the waist and into Tom's arms the moment after her repressed subconscious allowed her to remember Sharon's sexual advance.

"Baby?" he asked, finally looking up from his kissing when his lover's body went completely limp.

Tom smiled at Angelina, who's head was back at the neck, mouth open and her lights completely out, assuming his viritlity alone had once again sent his lover off to dreamland.

I think this is the earliest she's ever passed out on me, he thought. Usually it's not till we're screwing when she loses consciousness. Guess I really turned her on today. Well, no sense in wasting a good erection. Hoisting his 120lb-girlfriend up, he draped Angelina's right arm, whose hand was clasping the barely smoked cigarette holder, around his neck for support, as her head nestled comfortably next to his left shoulder. Holding her cradle style, Tom slowly carried his lover across the living room, scaled the staircase and entered Angelina's bedroom. Placing her down gently on her back on the made heart-shaped bed, Tom looked wantonly at the sexy woman he'd finally confessed his love to -- and she to him. The prospect -- for Angelina had long ago granted him permission to "finish up" when she fainted during the course of intercourse -- of making love to the embodiment of his boot and cigarette holder fetishes, extended his erection to even greater heights.

A tomcat in bed when conscious, Angelina was oftentimes more than one man could handle, so Tom didn't particularly mind when she fainted during the throes of passion. In fact, he sometimes preferred it. He still got to make love to Angelina, and when she was passed out there was less pressure to perform up to her aggressive and kinky lovemaking standards.

Some 15 minutes into their latest sexual encounter, however, when the young man was still toiling away at his favorite pastime, he wished Angelina was an equal contributor.

"How far into this are you, darrhhling?" asked Angelina, upon regaining consciousness and realizing her boyfriend's dick was diligently grinding into her pussy.

"What?" Tom asked, pausing his fucking to look up from his lover's crotch and into her face. "Oh, you're awake."

"How long was I out?"

"I dunno 10...15 minutes."

"And you've been at it that long?!"

"Yeah, about."

"Lets try something else then."

"Can I finish? I'm almost there."

"No, you're not."

"How do you know?"

"I'm still awake, aren't I? If your lovemaking was working I'd have still been unconscious. Go downstairs and get me a fresh cigarette, darrhhling."

"But I'm buck naked."

"So. Now go on, while I get a little more...comfortable."

Tom withdrew his still-erect penis from Angelina's vagina and self-consciously crept out of the bedroom. Retrieving a Virginia Slim from Angelina's cigarette case in the living room -- and a lighter -- he walked back up the stairs wondering what his girlfriend had in store for him. An occasional, primarily social, smoker -- Angelia rarely lit up in her bedroom -- much less in her house -- because she disliked the smell. Re-entering the bedroom he found that Angelina had used his brief absence to become quite comfortable. The woman was nude -- albeit for her light brown, high-healed boots -- suggestively lying on the bed, with the end of her empty cigarette holder drooping from the left corner of her mouth.

"Here's your cigarette," Tom said, half in a daze, his dick throbbing at the sight, as he climbed back onto the bed and cozied up to his girlfriend.

Angelina took the cigarette, seductively licked the length of it with the tip of her tongue and screwed it into the end of the holder.

"Wait," she said, removing the holder that was half way into her open mouth, when Tom flicked the lighter. "Why do you love me?"

"Oh, c'mon. You want to discuss this now?" he asked, incredulously, left hand on the lighter and right hand on her exposed privates. "Talking is a bit of a mood breaker. Can't we talk after we're done making love?"

"No. I want to know now. No sex until you tell me why you love me. Lets go."

Tom closed the lid of the lighter to extinguish the flame, then looked up to the ceiling to gather his thoughts.

"Well, to start with, I'm incredibly attracted to you," he said, now talking into her face. "Incredibly attracted."

"Is that because of your smoking and boot fetishes?" Angelina asked, extending her left leg to a 45-degree angle and slowly running her hands from the spiked heel up the leather that covered her calf.

Tom's erection followed suit, rising with the sexy-booted leg.

"I'd be lying if I said they don't enhance the experience," he said, fighting the urge to cream onto Angelina's sheets. "They're turn-ons, but they're not the entire reason. You could put your boots and cigarette holder with another woman and I wouldn't have nearly the same feelings. Plus, you didn't wear boots last summer and I didn't notice a dropoff in our lovemaking. And you're not a chain smoker, so there's plenty of times we make love without you smoking. They just make the experience even greater, but I still find you very attractive without them."

"So, what sets me apart?"

"Everything. I've never met another woman like you. The way you carry yourself. You're so confident and self-assured. Plus, you're sophisticated and stylish. You're just so classy. The girls my age are so...so immature."

"Okay, speaking of maturity, the age difference doesn't bother you?"

"Nope. You look great. I know girls my age, who aren't nearly as fit as you. You're in fantastic shape. And it's not just me. All my friends think you're hot. Even my brother thinks you're hot."

"How charming. But what about having mutual interests...that sort of thing?"

"Well, we may not like the same music, but we both like to read, so there's that. And you're so cultured. I can learn so much about life from you."