Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 21

Suddenly, Sinatra, bookended by two beefy bodyguards, who were scanning the near-empty bar for a remote, private table, appeared in Angelina's line of sight, some 30 feet away over Tom's right shoulder at the entrance to the bar.

"Darrhhlling, why don't you finish your drink and then we can go up to the room and..." said Angelina, before swinging her hand and knocking her boyfriend's half-filled beer glass onto his lap.

"Oh, geez," Tom exclaimed, rising from his stool, to instinctively brush the liquid off his suit pants.

"I'm terribly sorry, darrhhling. How clumsy of me. Why don't you go change? Or better yet... go take a shower."

"Yeah, maybe I better. Will you be okay? Do you just want to come back up with me?"

"No, no, darrhhlling. I'll finish my drink. Then I'll join you."

"Okay."

Tom turned around and walked from the bar. So preoccupied was he with his dripping clothes that the drenched young man somehow walked directly past Sinatra, who was now on his way to the bar, without recognizing the famous singer.

"Hey, mac. Gimme a scotch..neat," said Sinatra to the bartender, taking a seat on the stool to Angelina's left.

"Yes, Mr. Sinatra," said the bartender. "Right away, sir."

From the corner of her left eye, Angelina noticed Sinatra removing a gold-plated cigarette case from his breast pocket. Quickly, she dug into her pocketbook. By the time the singer had removed a cigarette from his case and tucked it between his lips, Angelina had readied her cigarette holder to smoke.

"Mr. Sinatra, could I trouble you for a light, please?" the woman asked coyly, shifting her body on the stool to face him.

"Yeah, sure," the man said, a small flame arising from the posh gold cigarette lighter he held in his right hand. "But call me Frank."

Angelina paused before placing the black end of the holder in her mouth, the large brown eyes looking up seductively from behind her chunky glasses at the legendary sex symbol until they locked with his. Angelina held the stare as she proceeded to close her crimson Maybelline-bathed lips around the holder and accept the light.

"Thank you, Frank darrhhlling," Angelina said in a sultry voice, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that extinguished the blaze in Sinatra's lighter.

"Hey, aren't you da broad who passed out at my show tonight?" Sinatra asked, recognizing Angelina from the concert. "You feeling better?"

"Oh, yes. Now that you're here, darrhhlling."

Angelina leaned in closer to Sinatra, smiled seductively and took another delicate pull from her holder. Somewhat taken aback by the overtly flirtatious librarian, the entertainer receded to put more air between these literal strangers in the night.

"So, where's your fiancé?" Sinatra asked, trying to not only change the subject but remind Angelina of what he assumed was a commitment to her main love interest.

"Oh, he's not my fiancé," she said dismissively, with a wave of her cigarette-holder-clutched right hand.

"But he proposed during the..."

"Forget about him, lets talk about us."

Angelina again advanced in her seat toward Sinatra, and with sexual fire shooting from her eyes, softly clinked her wine glass against his scotch tumbler.

While used to female fans coming on to him in his prime -- and despite being flattered by an especially attractive younger one in Angelina -- the happily married man had just performed two shows that night and had neither the energy nor inclination to pursue what he sensed was quickly escalating into a romantic liaison.

"Can I ask ya a personal question, if ya don't mind?" he said, after sipping his drink and taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Mmmm...this is getting exciting," Angelina said, raising her eyebrow. "Ask me anything, darrhhlling."

"Do ya love this boyfriend a yours?"

"Oh...I thought we weren't going to talk about him."

"Do ya? Because like the song goes, 'love and marriage...go togetha like a horse and carriage.' Think about it."

Sinatra rose from his stool, took Angelina's hand in his and suavely kissed the top of it.

"But, I hoped we could get to know each other better," Angelina protested. "I'd love to show you what a big fan I am of yours."

Sinatra pressed his index finger perpendicular to Angelina's lips to silence her.

"Sorry. That's life, doll," he said. Then, drink in hand, Sinatra walked to the back of the room to the table occupied by his bodyguards, leaving the horny Angelina sitting alone at the bar in sexually unfulfilled stunned silence.

The rebuff hit her right between the eyes. Wholly unaccustomed to being rejected by a man, it never occurred to Angelina that even a celebrity like Sinatra would not succumb to her charms. Still in shock, she didn't even notice when a handsome 40-something-year-old man assumed Sinatra's seat at the bar a couple minutes later.

"Hey, what's a sexy lady like you doing drinking alone?" asked the well-dressed and immacutely groomed stranger, in an attempt to break Angelina's trance. "You look like you could you some company."

Angelina turned to him. Stylish, debonair, with a moneyed air about him, he looked like he'd just stepped off the cover of GQ. The man couldn't have been more her type than if she'd created him in a lab, and the perfect rebound from the Sinatra rejection. But as Angelina looked him over approvingly from head to toe, with a playful, sinister smile and smoldering look in her eyes, Sinatra's love and marriage wisdom suddenly echoed in her head and she reached an epiphany.

"Leaving to be with the man I love," she said, ejecting her cigarette from its holder into the ashtray before rising from the barstool and tucking her purse under her arm. "Have a nice evening."

Angelina hurried up to her and Tom's hotel room.

"Darrhhling?" she called out upon entering and not find him there. "Darrhhling?"

Walking through the suite, Angelina finally spotted her boyfriend in the open bathroom, with his back to her, naked and toweling off after an apparent shower.

"Hello, darrhhling," Angelina said in a sexy drawl, entering the bathroom.

Previously unable to hear his girlfriend over the whir of the bathroom fan, Tom turned around, taken by surprise.

"Anglina," he said. "I didn't hear you come in. I was just about to throw on some clothes and go back down to the bar.

"Forget the clothes, darrhhling."

The sex-starved woman gently pulled off the bath towel that was wrapped around her lover's waist and took a step back.

"My, you do have a very, very impressive physique, darrhhling," she said, admiring his naked body -- particularly his well-endowed penis -- like it was Michelangelo's sculpture of David. "I don't know that I've really taken the time to appreciate what fantastic shape you're in."

"Angelina, we need to talk," Tom said, feeling a little self-conscious at being leered at.

"Yes, darrhhling. In a minute" Angelina said, stepping closer to him. "I've something to say to you, too. But first, lets have some fun."

Wrapping her arms around her paramour's waste, Angelina gently squeezed Tom's butt cheeks while initiating a delicate kiss on his lips. Operating from several lengths behind her (as did every one of Angelina's lovers) on the sex-readiness track, Tom had no trouble whatsoever catching up, returning Angelina's serve at the same high velocity at which it was delivered.

As they've done hundreds of times since their relationship began 15 months ago, Tom and Angelina went at each other with as much passion as the first day they hooked up. Although, contrary to most of those experiences, tonight's lovemaking would not be for the faint of heart. The couple seemed to know instinctively -- from the instant their mouths engulfed the other in a violent struggle for supremacy -- that tonight would be less about making love than about making raw, in-your-face, slam-bam sex.

The two attacked each other without a hint of tenderness or gentle foreplay. They were like two animals in heat. And while Tom may have the equipment, Angelina had just as much -- maybe more -- desire to do the actual fucking than he did.

Joined as one, they pinballed around the suite -- from bathroom, to living room and finally to the bedroom; Tom's hard-as-steel dick never once leaving Angelina's pussy. And Angelina not even caring to shed the expensive Halston dress or boots she was wearing. Tom had pulled down her thong from the get-go and that was as much undressing that was needed. Although so horny and determined was Tom that he no doubt could have forced his way through the red undergarment's thin layer of fabric if he had to, in order to get to his lover's pussy.

"Fuck me, you stallion. Fuck me," panted Angelina, eyes closed, enjoying the moment for all it was worth, as she raised her right booted leg and curled it around his ass for leverage. "I'm almost ready to climax."

Tom responded by pounding Angelina's vertical body so hard from his groin that he was actually lifting her booted feet off the floor with every powerful thrust. Finally, after about the two-dozenth time, he hit pay dirt and ejaculated a most pleasurable spew of cum into her cunt.

"Oh, my God that was good!" Angelina squealed.

"Did you orgasm?" Tom asked, his penis still wedged in her pussy.

"Not quite. Our timing was just a little off."

"My dick's spent, but I can stimulate you with my fingers to finish you off, if you want."

"No. That's not necessary. That was still great. Besides, I want to be awake long enough to tell you something."

Angelina removed her resting head from Tom's chest.

"You just made love to the future Mrs. Bailey," she said, looking him straight in the eye.

"What?! Are you serious? You want to marry me? Really?" Tom asked in disbelief.

"Really."

The young man embraced his older girlfriend so hard he threatened to break her.

"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world. I'm going to treat you like a queen. You'll see. But wait. I have to do this properly. Wait right here. I need to get the ring. Don't move. Don't go anywhere."

The naked man gave his now-fiance a kiss on the mouth, before darting into the living room to retrieve the engagement ring.

"Oh, I won't," Angelina she said. "I'm dying for you to put it on my finger."

The experienced cougar laughed at her lover's boyish enthusiasm.

"And you got me flowers, too?" Angelina called out, spotting a dozen long-stemmed red roses on the nightstand.

Opening up the card tucked between two flowers, she began reading to herself...

"Doll --

Wishing you and yours a long and happy marriage.

Love

Frank

P.S. Hope you're feeling better. Good to know I can still have that affect on a beautiful woman."

Could he ever. Sinatra's mere words were enough to trip the physiological response in Angelina's vagina that Tom's dick couldn't quite trigger that evening. Angelina's body tremored with uncontrollable excitement, as her pussy oozed with secretions.

"Ooooo...oooo" she moaned, running her hands down her body, while she imagined Sinatra making love to her.

Angelina had masterbated to that thought thousands of times in her life, but his note read like a love letter to her and the intensity was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

Seconds later, unable to withstand the pleasure any more...the blood rushing from her head to her pussy...Angelina ejaculated. Squirting uncontrollably from her vagina, the newly engaged woman collapsed, falling backwards onto the bed in a faint, cashed out in pure orgasmic bliss.