Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 25

"Right next to the elevator. Give 'em hell, Ms. Lione. Good luck."

"Oh...one more thing...when the stripper or stripper shows up can you make sure she or they are turned away?"

"You can bet on it. I'll personally make sure no stripper gets on that elevator."

Angelina cinched her raincoat at the neck and nodded to the desk receptionist. Then, as she turned and walked toward the elevator, her face broke out into a huge grin. Her first con job of the night was successful.

Entering the empty ladies' room, Angelina finished prepping for the night. After checking her makeup and applying a fresh coat of lipstick, she reached into her pocketbook. Producing a blonde wig, Angelina fit it snugly on her head over her short, salt and pepper hair, then shed her raincoat. Bare shouldered and bare midriff, tassles hung from the cupped breasts of her bikini top, while a garter belt stretched from the triangular-shaped lower half that barely covered her bush and extended to the black thigh-high, high-heeled boots. Not bad, the self-impressed Angelina said to herself, pulling up the black opera gloves that reached to her elbows while continuing to check herself out in the mirror. Wow. I look even sexier than I imagined. I'm so sexy I'm even turning myself on. It's almost not fair. Thomas, darrhhling, good luck resisting this.

####

"Hey, you must be the stripper we hired," said an alcohol-buzzed Neil, puffing on a cigar and holding a can of beer as he answered the door to his hotel room and saw the blonde, now-masked Angelina. "Awesome. I thought you weren't due till 9:00. Looks like we got a bonus hour of entertainment. Did they give you any trouble at the front desk?"

Angelina shook her head.

"That's good," he said. "Well, I guess you know how to get past hotel security, right?"

Angelina didn't respond.

"May I take your coat, my dear?" Neil chivalrously asked.

Angelina slipped off the raincoat and handed it to her unsuspecting would-be brother-in-law.

"Whoa!" said the stunned man, seeing Angelina's toned and trim body in all its glory; a body that perfectly complemented her racy stripper outfit. "That's some hot costume!"

Neil led Angelina into the wide open sitting area of the suite, where the stag party was in full swing. The opulent room was littered with pizza boxes, beer cans and liquor bottles and the half a dozen cigar-smoking men in attendance were riveted to the adult-themed movie blaring from the television set.

"Guys, I'd like you to meet Monique," Neil introduced.

Assuming 'Monique' was the name of the originally-hired stripper, Angelina played along, nodding her head in agreement, as the men in the room turned in unison to greet the evening's live adult entertainment.

"Holy smokes!" Rocco said excitedly, completely oblivious to the fact that the scantily clad woman standing before him was really his sister-in-law, a woman who he considered attractive but never lusted after due in part to her snobbish and arrogant personality. "We're gonna have big fun tonight, boys! Big fun!"

"She doesn't talk much," Neil continued. "I guess she lets her body do the talking. Lets shut off the TV and get this show on the road. Monique, that guy over there is the groom to be. He's all yours. Do your stuff!"

Squinting to help her see without the benefit of her large, owlish eyeglasses, Angelina made out the shape -- if not quite the exact details -- of her fiance's athletic frame at the end of a couch. Fortunately, for her, there were just a handful of guests at the party: Neil, Tom, his three roommates, her brother-in-law Rocco, and nephew Tony. Of any of the seven partiers, Tony was the only one who had a remotely lithe and athletic build to her fiancé, so she shouldn't have to be concerned about confusing him with any of the other guests. What Angelina's squinting couldn't make out, though, was Tom squirming in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at being singled out for the "stripper's" attention.

Oh, my God, he's smoking a cigar, Angelina said to herself, her biggest turn-on triggering an immediate rush of vaginal secretions in her now-swollen vulva.

Angelina removed a portable tape deck from her small, leather luggage container, plugged it into a nearby outlet and pressed 'play.' As Tina Turner's Private Dancer blared from the speaker, she took an unoccupied chair, placed it in the center of the room then sauntered over to Tom and extended her gloved hand to him. Tom hesitated, wishing he were anywhere else at that moment. But with his party guests egging him on, the reluctant Tom accepted Angelina's hand.

Leading him to the chair, Angelina pushed him hard onto the seat, then turned her back to him and not-so-subtly began wiggling her butt in his face. First, slowly from side to side, then rapid fire. Turning back around to face her unsuspecting fiancé, Angelina danced to the music, sexily tousled her fake long blonde locks, then dropped to the ground. Rolling to her left side, the limber woman straighted her left leg into the air, grabbed the back of her calf and pulled it into her body.

The men whooped and hollered, as Angelina lay spread eagle. Seconds later, she rolled onto her back, faced Tom and raised both legs to a 90-degree angle, exposing her butt cheeks and the crack that had sucked up her G-string bikini. Then she crossed her legs at the top, before opening them into another spread eagle. Turning onto her stomach with her back to Tom, she leaned on her elbows and began slowly thrusting her hips back and forth in twerk-like fashion.

The men -- particularly, Rocco -- were practically beside themselves in arousal over Angelina's erotic dancing. Only Tom -- fearful that this enticing stripper might be a setup from Angelina's menacing Uncle Frank -- remained in control. He felt like he had no choice. Giving into temptation, he feared, could cost him his life.

Now back on her feet, Angelina remained with her back to Tom, rocked her ass back and forth a couple times, then gave her tight butt cheeks a little wiggle at the bottom with the fingers of each hand and then a little shimmy shake.

"Shake it, baby!" Rocco yelled, his eyes ablaze in excitement. "Shake that fine can!"

This is better than I could have hoped for! Angelina said to herself, touching her gloved index finger to her left butt cheek, then immediately pulling it off and pretending like it was too hot to touch. All those years exercising to the Jane Fonda workout tape really paid off. They're totally buying into this stripper act -- and they haven't the faintest idea who's dancing for them. I'm going to keep this wig. I feel like I can do whatever I want in it. It's so liberating.

Oh, if Uncle Frank could only see his prim and proper Virgin Queen now...this MILF...he'd probably choke on his stogie. And if Rocco only knew the stripper he had the hots for was his haughty sister-in-law, he'd probably take a swan dive off the suite's seventh floor balcony.

Angelina turned around to face Tom. To her shock and dismay, her fiancé didn't appear to be enjoying himself half as much as the other men. In fact, he looked downright scared.

Running out of choreographed movements to tempt him with, Angelina tried for physical contact. Playing on his boot fetish weakness, she stepped her left thigh-high boot onto his right leg, the heal lightly digging into his thigh and moved in close, practically thrusting her pussy in his face.

Tom rolled his eyes and tried to look away -- afraid he may give in to enticement if he didn't, but Angelina gently turned his head back into her grinding crotch, then slowly caressed his wavy hair. Still, however, Tom somehow resisted the temptress, even as his fiancé kept up the seduction assault on his body and psyche.

"This is bull chit!" a bored and anxious Rocco said 15 minutes later. "Did that evil sister-in-law a mine slip salt Peter into your coffee dis morning? Dis is a bachelor party, for crissakes. You're supposed ta get it on with the strippa. Hell, if you're not gonna do anything wit her, den I am."

Fed up with Tom's inaction, Rocco rose from the couch and grabbed Angelina by the waist.

"C'mere, baby, show me what ya got," the beefy brute said, sitting his in-disguised sister-in-law forcibly onto his lap.

Completely repulsed, Angelina pulled back at first. But not wanting to blow her cover, she reluctantly played along, lap dancing as sexily as she could, given the situation and the subject.

Thank God my eyes are so bad I can't see him clearly, Angelina said to herself, gyrating about in the chair while desperately trying to keep her dinner down.

After about 25 minutes of private dancing -- which felt to her like 20 hours -- Angelina finally got a reprieve from the horny Rocco.

"Time for a shots break, lets take ten," the already-buzzed Rocco announced, rising from the chair and lifting his nauseated sister-in-law onto the floor. "Don't disappear on me, sweek cheeks. We ain't done."

The male chauvinist gave Angelina a pat on the butt, which upset the staunch feminist nearly as much as the pawing he'd performed on her body for the past nearly half hour.

Rocco had certainly failed her fidelity test, but he wasn't the one on trial that stag party night. That was Tom -- and Angelina still had one more card to play with him. Rocco entered the kitchen, with Neil, Tony and Tom's friends to down tequila shots, while the already-grossly intoxicated Tony stumbled to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Angelina grabbed her hand bag and approached Tom, who was sitting by himself on the couch. Sitting next to him, Angelina nuzzled closely, crossed her left thigh-booted leg over her right, and withdrew a telescopic white cigarette holder that was already affixed with a long thin More cigarette.

The holder -- while several inches longer than the ones Angelina owned -- still instantly reminded him of the type his sexy fiancé smoked from. And the cigarette was the brand his mother smoked, different from Angelina's preferred Virginia Slims. The stripper's brown cigarette and white holder was the inverse of his sexy fiance's smoking setup. Tom was entranced.

Angelina placed the hard end of the holder between her lips and let it dangle hands-free while she produced a lighter and lit the More -- another contrast to her style of seeking men to light her cigarettes for her. Unused to smoking from such a long holder, the smoke seemed to take forever as it traveled up the tube to her lips and finally her lungs. Withdrawing the holder from her mouth, Angelina let forth a slow and sexy exhale into her unsuspecting fiance's open mouth. Tom coughed, yet his dick still hardened, for he knew she was trying to seduce him.

Tom inched away from Angelina, but she followed, placing her gloved hand on his right thigh.The delicate touch triggered even more thickening of his bulging cock. In keeping with her stripper character, Angelina didn't say a word, she just smoked. She just there, stared straight into his eyes, and calmly smoked. But the mere act of smoking a cigarette through a holder was infinitely more of a turn on for the smoking fetisher Tom than any of the sexy dance moves Angelina had executed for him earlier in the evening. Every pull she took from the exaggeratedly long holder was different than the last. Sometimes the inhale was deep, producing the expected long funnel of smoke from her mouth, while at other times the mouthpiece of the holder barely seemed to graze her lips. Angelina was playing him. She knew what buttons to push on her lover; how to cock tease him. And knew to him that the long hard holder this Blow Job Queen was working so masterfully in her mouth represented his dick.

Finally, when her More was nearly a quarter smoked, she took a soft draw, blew away the smoke and moved in slowly for the moment of truth: a kiss on the lips. If Tom bit on the kiss and wanted more, Angelina would have her answer on his faithfulness as a husband. Their future as a married couple hinged on the next few seconds. Perspiration forming on his forehead, Angelina knew she had her man where she wanted him.

"No...no...I'm sorry," Tom said, breaking from his trance just in time and pulling back from Angelina's sexual advance when her sumpous mouth was mere centimeters from connecting with his. "Listen, you're attractive and all, but...I can't. I just can't. I'm in love with my fiancé, and I don't want to screw that up. Really, I'm sorry. Excuse me. I'm going to bed before I do something I'll regret for the rest of my life. Have a nice night. Thanks for coming."

Tom jumped off the couch and in seconds he was gone, bolting off to one of the bedrooms along the perimeter of the suite.

Alone now in the living room, Angelina sat on the couch, stunned. Then she broke into a smile. Her fiancé had bent, but not broken, in the face of her relentless seduction. He had passed her trust test.

"Hey, Monique," Neil said, bursting from the kitchen into the living room. "Good news for you, you get to go home early."

The harried man gently pulled the seated woman off the couch, before scooping up her belongs and handing them to her.

"Yeah, I think it's best you go now," he said, taking Angelina by the elbow and leading her to the front door of the hotel suite. "Rocco's a little out of control right now, so probably best for you if you left. Thanks. You did a great job; maybe a little too great, if you know what I mean."

"Neil...we need your help...please!" pleaded a frantic Paul, yelling out from the living room, as he and some of the other party guests tried to subdue the drunken and horny Rocco, who was trying to get at Monique/Angelina.

"I better get back to the party," Tom's brother said, hastily. "Do you mind seeing yourself out? Thanks again for a great night."

Neil stuffed a $50 tip into Angelina's glove hand, then ran back to the living room. Alone now, a thought occurred to Angelina. Despite spending most of the evening fending off the unwanted sexual advances of her boorish brother-in-law, she considered it a success. Angelina's young fiancé passed her advanced fidelity test with flying colors. She knew, unequivocally, that Tom would be faithful to her in marriage. Angelina's love for him had hit a new high.

I wound him up so much tonight, he deserves a reward, an impish Angelina said to herself, as she made her way to the bedroom. How hot will it be to fuck him on the night of his bachelor party. He's going to love it.

The farsighted woman slowly and carefully followed the walls until she reached the first bedroom. Peering into the darkened room through squinted eyes, she made out the shape of a body under the covers lying on its right side with its back toward her. Tiptoeing in, she closed the door behind her, dropped off her raincoat, purse and bag carrying her tape deck on a bureau, then crept toward the bed and climbed in, still fully clothed and booted.

"Surprise, Thomas, darrhhling, guess who?" Angelina whispered into the man's ear, as she placed her gloved hand on the man's ass. "It's me, your alluring and sinfully sexy future wife, coming to give you the best bachelor party gift ever."

The man didn't react.

Asleep already? Angelina thought. Guess he passed out. I'll wake him up.

Unsnapping her garter belt, the librarian wiggled out of her bikini bottom and slipped it off at her booted feet. Naked from the waist down, Angelina spooned him and reached over to grab his dick with her left hand. Extracting it from the fly of his boxer shorts, she gently stroked it with her gloved hand. Within seconds, the penis -- if not it's owner -- had been stirred from its dormant state.

"Wake up, darrhhling. Wake up," she breathed in a throaty voice into his ear. "Make love to me."

The plea for sex worked. Rolling over, her lover, as if on auto-pilot, simultaneously began kissing Angelina's neck while massaging her exposed pussy.

"Oh, God," she moaned in enjoyment, her cunt juicing up with every gentle squeeze. "That's fantastic. Oh, I love you so much."

The pair kept at foreplay for the next few minutes, until her lover unexpectedly picked up the pace of his massage.

"I'm glad you're excited, darrhhling, but slow down a little," Angelina cautioned through her panting. "We have the whole night to enjoy ourselves. Lets take our time."

The speed, however, continued.

"Darrhhling, no that's still too fast," she said, becoming a bit agitated now. "Darrhhling? Did you hear me? Thomas?"

"I'm...Tony," her lover said in a drunken mumble, finally speaking.

"Tony?!"

"Yeah..."

Suddenly realizing that she blindly and mistakenly walked into the wrong bedroom and was not making love to her fiancé afterall, but rather to her 24-year-old nephew, Angelina froze on the bed, her panicked eyes growing as round as hubcaps. Then, in complete shock and horror as to the situation she'd unwittingly got herself into, Angelina's eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she fainted back on the pillow, mouth locked open. Meanwhile, Tony continued to passionately kiss and massage the genitals of the passed out woman, oblivious to the fact that -- at long last -- he had finally achieved his boyhood fantasy: bedding his sexy aunt.

###

The shock of the traumatic experience sent Angelina into unconsciousness for a half hour, which transitioned into sleep. Awakening several hours later, Angelina found herself wrapped in the lovingly naked embrace of her fast-asleep nephew, his right leg curled over her exposed crotch and flaccid penis laying on the leather thigh of her left boot.

Horrified, but knowing she couldn't afford to faint again and be out of it if a sober Tony woke up, Angelina carefully -- so as not to awaken her nephew -- crawled out from under him. Leaving the bed, she gathered her belongings and quietly exited the silent hotel suite, whose other occupants -- including her fiancé, Tom -- where either still passed out or sleeping.

Donning her glasses again, Angelina headed to her car in the hotel's parking lot and sped home, anxious to jump in a hot shower and wash the night away. In the early morning hours of April 1, the April fool's joke was on her.