Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love

Angelina continued to fish through her purse, before finally emerging with a silver cigarette case. Prying it open, she extracted a long, thin, all white cigarette. Holding it between the index and middle fingers of her left hand, she took another dive into her purse.

"I can never find my holder in here," she said in exasperation, without lifting her head up.

Holder? Did she just say 'holder? 'Tom thought, feeling for a second like he might faint. It was one thing for Angelina to smoke. That was sexy to him. But it was even sexier to hear that she smoked through a cigarette holder. That was the ultimate phallic gesture to Tom. The sight of a woman placing the tip of a long shaft in her mouth was akin to her giving a blow job. It was beyond phallic. There was no difference anymore once a cigarette holder entered into the equation.

"Ah, here it is!" she exclaimed. "It's such a nuisance, but I just can't seem to smoke a cigarette unless it's in a holder."

Tom gave a knowing smile in agreement, as Angelina withdrew a convertible 3" holder and extended it to 10 inches, dropped her head and adroitly screwed the cigarette into the mouth of her holder, her long, red nails glistening in the glow of the candlelight perched in the middle of the table.

Like Angelina's convertible cigarette holder, Tom's penis began to extend even further.

Once inserted, Angelina held the holder between her outstretched index and middle fingers of her left hand and went back into her purse, coming back up a second later with a silver cigarette lighter that matched her cigarette case.

"Allow me, Angelina," Tom said, gently extracting the lighter from Angelina's right hand.

"How gentlemanly," Angelina responded with an impressed look and raised eyebrow.

Angelina opened her mouth and inserted the holder, wrapping her full, red lips around it, while guiding it with her fingers toward the lighter.

Tom fumbled nervously with the lighter. Flipping its top, a spark ignited, then flickered out before a flame could spring forth. Again, Tom tried and again the result was another extinguished light. He tried a third time, but to no avail. He was blowing it. A non-smoker, Tom had never before used a lighter, but he didn't think there was a trick to it. Apparently, there was and he couldn't figure it out.

Meanwhile, Angelina sat patiently, the unlit holder still in her mouth.

"I'll get it," Tom said nervously. "It must be low on fluid or something."

Turning the lighter away from Angelina, Tom continued to frantically click it, growing more embarrassed with each failed flick.

Just then, a flame appeared to Tom's left. It was the waiter holding his own lighter out to Ms. Lione. The woman turned toward it, guiding the end of her holder to the fire, let it touch the tip of her cigarette, inhaled slightly, then slid the holder in what seemed like slow motion -- almost teasingly -- Tom thought, as if she was sliding an erect penis (even better yet, his erect penis) out of her mouth. A few seconds passed and just when Tom was convinced that there would be no smoke coming forth from Ms. Lione's mouth, she turned her head up and expelled a long, thin stream of smoke to the ceiling.

"Gratci," Angelina said to the waiter, as wisps of smoke trailed out of her mouth.

"Si, Signora," he said, then turning to Tom -- in a dismissive voice that seemed to suggest that the young man wasn't up to the task of making love to his dinner companion -- added with disgust, "Little boys shouldn't play with fire."

As the waiter walked away, Tom felt his body shrink at the insult -- even his erect penis deflated. The waiter was right, Tom realized. He was a jerk, but he was right. Tom had a chance to do something romantic. To step up, reduce the difference between he and Angelina's ages, and prove to her that he was suave, cool, and worldlier than his years and he'd blown it. If Angelina had any romantic designs on him before, they were certainly extinguished with his failure to operate a simple cigarette lighter.

Without saying so, all three parties involved -- Tom, Angelina and the smarmy waiter -- knew that Tom's aborted attempt to light Angelina's cigarette holder went way beyond just a failure to work a lighter. It revealed something more; something about Tom's youth and sexual inexperience. Tom's feeble attempts, coupled with the waiter's biting remark, seemed to foretell how he would make love to Angelina, if given the chance. The older woman didn't need short, staccato bursts of energy that quickly flamed out. She needed a strong, mature flame that would last until the job was done; until she was pleasured and deeply satisfied. Tom may be young and virile, but he was no match, so to speak, for the experience of someone like the middle-aged waiter. The impression hung unspoken in the air; over their table, like the gently wafting tufts of smoke flowing from Angelina's sexy and smoldering cigarette holder. Tom was back to being a mere 14-year old boy in her eyes.

Desperately trying to rebound from his misstep Tom said, "I didn't know you smoked, Angelina."

"Yes, ever since grad school," she replied, tapping the holder's shaft with her index finger, as an ash fell into the ashtray on their table. "But I've always been a light, social smoker. Now, I just smoke when the mood strikes, or when I have a drink in public. Are you sure you don't mind if I smoke? I'm not upsetting your young lungs, am I?"

"Oh, no, not at all. It's just that I've never seen a woman outside of old movies smoke with a holder before."

"I went through a huge Audrey Hepburn phase when I was in grad school in the early '60s after seeing Breakfast at Tiffanys. Her look was just so glamorous, stylish and chic. I wanted to be just like her character in the film. To live in an apartment on the fashionable upper west side of Manhattan. Stay out all night, drinking martinis and dancing at parties with interesting, sophisticated, cultured gentlemen. So I adopted her wardrobe. You know, the short black dress, matching high heeled pumps, diamond necklace, and to make the outfit complete I had to have her signature long black cigarette holder.

"At first, when I went out to parties dressed like that, I used the holder as more of a prop or affectation, because I'd never smoked before. But then I found that men would come up to me out of nowhere and offer to light my unlit cigarette holder. That forced me to learn how to smoke. It was a great icebreaker and way to get and keep a man's attention.

Because of that the cigarette holder was the only thing that survived my Breakfast at Tiffany's phase. Nearly every time I take it out it's like a man magnet -- whether I want the attention or not. I just love how I look with a holder and so have the men in my life through the years. I feel so confident and powerful with it -- and just lovvve the feel of a long...hard cigarette holder between my fingers. I love things that are long...and hard."

Tom gulped hard and his penis stood at attention as Angelina slowly moved her thumb and index finger up and down the long shaft. Whether she was cock teasing him or not, Angelina's words and actions were turning him on.. simulating performing a hand job on her holder and Tom felt as if he would cream on the spot.

"Well, I...I... think you've done Audrey Hepburn proud," Tom stuttered, trying in vain to regain his composure. "You look quite stylish, elegant, classy and sophisticated smoking with a holder."

"That's a lot of adjectives," said Angelina, staring back at her dinner companion through seductive, sultry eyes as she brought the holder slowly back up to her lips, inhaled slightly, then slipped it back out. A strand of smoke poured lazily from the moist mouth side of the holder, as Angelina cocked her neck to the ceiling and let forth a voluminous stream of smoke from her parted lips.

The captivating scene left Tom completely speechless. All he wanted to do was take Angelina right then and there on the table and make hot, passionate love to her.

"Plus, using a long holder keeps the smoke away from my hands, hair and clothing, so I don't smell like the cigarette," said Angelina. "It's also healthier for me and everyone else around me. A holder absorbs so much of the harmful tobacco byproducts and emits very little secondhand smoke. I still have the body of a woman half my age."

"Angelina, I need to tell you something..."

"Ah, bellissima!" suddenly came a male voice from Tom's back, shattering the young man's fantasy. "Ms. Lione, my favorite customer."

Taking Angelina's bare left hand in his, the stranger brought it to his lips and kissed it.

"You're looking more moldo bello than ever!" the swarthy, black mustachioed man continued. "How are you? So good to see you again."

"Good, Enrique. Everything's wonderful as usual."

"Excellent. You need anything, you let me know, ah? Your youthful beauty always brightens up my restaurant-a."

"Oh, Enrique. You always know just the right thing to say to make a woman feel... bellissima."

"My pleasure, signora. Se solo un maggior numero di donne, prendere il vostro que e hanno capito che non ci si deve vestire economici al fine di essere bella e desiderabile (If only more women would take your que and realize they don't have to dress cheap in order to look beautiful and desirable).

Che cosa un grazioso complimento, Enrique. Sì. L'unico posto in cui agire economico è in camera da letto. (What a charming compliment, Enrique. Yes. The only place a woman should act cheap is in the bedroom, I believe).

Ah si flirtare in modo più suggestivo, Ms. Lione. Ciò che l'uomo potrebbe resistere al fascino? (Ah, you do flirt in the most suggestive manner, Ms. Lione. What man could possibly resist your charms?).

Quale donna può resistere al fascino, Enrique? Forse dovremmo qualche sera prima per scoprire l'irresistibile entrambi. (What woman could resist your charms, Enrique? Maybe we should get together some evening soon to find out just how irresistible we both are).

Ma ciò che di nuovo giovane Casanova cena data questa sera, Ms. Lione? Non si mente? (But what of your new young Casanova dinner date this evening, Ms. Lione? Won't he mind?)

"Questo ragazzino significa niente per me. Egli può essere spiritoso, affascinante, intelligente molto bello, ma non è nulla più di un bambino. Fisicamente, egli è come un cucciolo eccitabili, non so se mi spiego. "(This little boy means nothing to me. He may be witty, charming, intelligent, extremely handsome and yet he's a baby. Physically, he's like an excitable puppy, if you know what I mean.)

"Sì, che cosa ti dice questo circa come fare l'amore, signora? Speranza per il vostro bene, non pee le gambe stasera, signora." (Yes, what does that tell you about how he would make love? Hope for your sake, he doesn't pee down your leg tonight, signora.)

Enrique and Angelina burst out laughing.

"Un vero peccato che un vero uomo non sarebbe tenuto a casa stanotte, signora," Enrique said, turning serious again. (A pity that a real man will not be accompanying you home tonight, signora.)

"Non ti preoccupare, mia cara. Questo l'apprendista smanioso ma impotente ragazzino non condividono il mio letto con me stasera , o mai. Non riusciva nemmeno a far funzionare un semplice accendino quando ha cercato di illuminare la sigaretta in un supporto. Non avete nulla da invidiare. (Don't worry, my darling. You have nothing to be jealous about . He couldn't even manage to operate a simple lighter when he tried to light my cigarette in a holder. No, this overeager but impotent little boy won't be sharing my bed with me tonight, or ever ).

"Io sono grandemente geloso di bocchino. Se io fossi che titolare in bocca, morirei di felicità." (I am jealous of that cigarette holder. If I were that holder in your mouth, I would die of happiness).

"Che cosa romantica da dire" (What a romantic thing to say).

Angelina stared sultrily at Enrique while taking a soft pull on her cigarette holder and blowing the smoke out like cupid's arrow in the direction of his heart).

Mi faresti il piacere di essere la mia private cena ospite una sera settimana prossima? (Would you do me the pleasure of being my private dinner guest one evening next week?)

Come potevo dire di no in un affascinante invito? Permettetemi di riferirmi alla mia agenda e vi invito domani? (How could I say no to such a charming invitation? Allow me to refer to my date book and call you tomorrow?)

Fantastico. VORREI cucinare il pasto io. Vino e mangiare è come una donna della sua eleganza e bellezza deve essere qualsiasi emozione o stato d'animo. Til ci incontriamo di nuovo, Angelina. Senza la vostra cena data. (Fantastic. I will cook the meal myself. Wine you and dine you and romance you like a woman of your elegance and beauty should be romanced. Til we meet again, Angelina...without your dinner date).

Enrique smiled leeringly at Angelina, bent down to sexily kiss her hand again -- the two exchanging smoldering, wanting glances and Angelina's pussy becoming moist from her sexual flirtation -- and left the table without so much as looking at Tom.

"So, you come here often?" asked Tom.

"We come about once a month," answered Angelina matter of factly, talking to Tom as she was watching Enrique walk away with lust in her eyes.

We?! Tom said to himself. Who's we? Tom immediately imagined Angelina and her husband or boyfriend being the "we" in question. Tom had to know more and awkwardly pressed on.

"So, did you have any explaining to do when you left for dinner tonight?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Angelina asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I...was just thinking...that...um...with the two of us eating out together that it could be misinterpreted or..."

"Are you trying to ask if I had to seek permission to go out? Why would I need to do that? Aren't we just two people who happen to be of the opposite sex sharing a meal and talking about library science? At least, we were talking about that before you veered off topic."

Tom's heart sank. It was clear to him now that his cover was blown. Angelina had seen through his ruse.

Two minutes of awkward silence followed before the waiter returned to their table.

"Would the signora prefer dessert or sambuco tonight?" he asked, only addressing Angelina.

"No thank you," she said, taking the initiative to speak for her dinner companion, too. "Just the check, please."

"Si."

Impotently Tom tried to speak up, but the waiter turned on his heel and left.

A few more minutes of awkward silence followed before the waiter returned and placed the bill before Tom without even looking at him.

"Thank you for gracing our restaurant tonight," he said to Angelina. "I look forward to serving you again soon."

The waiter took Angelina's right hand that wasn't holding her cigarette holder, brought it up to his lips and kissed it softly.

"Gratci," said Angelina.

"Ciao, signora."

"Ciao."

Now used to being ignored a pissed off Tom reached into his wallet and left cash in the check envelope but nothing on the table.

"Aren't you leaving a tip?" asked Angelina incredulously, speaking to him for the first time in close to 10 minutes.

"You think I'm leaving a tip after the way the waiter and owner treated me? If they weren't making snide remarks about me they were ignoring me altogether. I don't speak Italian, but I'm pretty sure the owner was talking about me in not so glowing terms. And I think he was trying to pick you up, too, right in front of me, which I found insulting."

"You're leaving a tip and that's final," Angelina said in an angry whisper. "We come here often and you're not going to embarrass me."

Again, who's this we?

Tom reluctantly slapped a $10 bill on the table, while Angelina ejected her cigarette from her holder into the ashtray, collapsed her holder and placed it back in her purse. Tom and Angelina got up and walked out of the dining room. Angelina retrieved her black fur coat from coat check and Tom slipped it on her. Angelina then opened her purse and withdrew a pair of black leather gloves that she slipped on her hands. Opening the door to the restaurant, Tom allowed Angelina to walk out in front of him.

"My car's over here," said Angelina.

The two proceeded to a red Volkswagen Rabbit.

"Thank you for dinner," said Angelina coldly, reaching out her gloved right hand to Tom. "Good luck to you."

Tom paused. A handshake was not the physical contact he had in mind with Angelina when the day began, but given the recent turn of events, not unexpected. Tom dropped his head and met her leather gloved hand with his in a limp shake.

Ms. Lione got into her car and Tom walked dejectedly back to his, some 20' away. From behind, Tom heard Angelina try in vain to turn the engine over. He was about to slip the key in the lock when he heard her give it a second try that also failed.

Tom stopped in his tracks. As much as he wanted to get away from that restaurant and be by himself to lick his wounds, he knew he couldn't leave her in the parking lot alone with a stalled car. Returning to Angelina's VW, he knocked on the driver's side window. Angelina rolled down the window.

"I think my battery's dead," said Angelina. "It won't start. Do you have jumper cables?"

"No."

"Could you give me a ride home then?"

The two got into Tom's car. With Angelina navigating, they arrived at her modest two-story home in minutes.

"Here you are," Tom said, as he pulled his car into her driveway. "Goodnight."

"Would you mind walking me to the door?" asked Angelina.

Tom turned off the engine with a sigh, got out of the car and walked over to Ms. Lione's side, opened her door and extended a hand. Ms. Lione took it with her gloved hand, unfolded her boots and stepped out of the car.

Tom accompanied Ms. Lione to her front door as she took a set of house keys from her purse.

"Okay, well, goodnight again," Tom said, pivoting back to his car.

"Could you do me one more favor?" Angelina asked. "I hate to walk into a dark house. Could you...?"

"Yeah, sure."

Angelina inserted the key in the lock, opened the door and flipped on the lights, bathing the sunken living room in front of them with soft light.

"How about a drink as a way of saying thank you?" she asked.

"I don't think so," said Tom. "I want to get home."

"Oh, right. You probably have a curfew, don't you?"

"Okay, I'll have that drink," a perturbed Tom replied.

"Help me off with my coat, would you, please?" Angelina asked, turning her back to Tom.

Tom did as he was told.

"Hang mine in the closet behind me, if you would," said Angelina.

Again, Tom followed orders. Angelina removed her gloves, placed them back in her purse and walked across the living room to the wet bar.

"Have a seat," she said turning her head over her right shoulder.

Still in his overcoat, Tom plopped down on Angelina's plush velour sofa, while she poured the drinks at the bar.

"Would you like yours on the rocks or neat?" asked Angelina.

"Neat, please," came Tom's reply.

Moments later Ms. Lione returned to her guest, handed Tom a glass containing a light, amber- colored liquid, sat down kitty-corner from him on the companion sofa and crossed her black leather booted legs.

"Thank you," said Tom, before taking a sip. "What is this?"

"It's apple juice," said Angelina bluntly.

"Oh. I thought you were fixing me a drink drink. Can I have a scotch and soda or something?"

"I don't know, can you?" she answered in a sarcastic tone.

Tom shook his head in confusion and disgust as Ms. Lione reached down to her coffee table and pressed a button on a small rectangular mahogany box. The lid lifted and with her left hand pulled out a long, thin all white cigarette, before picking up a black 10" cigarette holder with her right hand that was lying next to the box. As Ms. Lione gently twisted the cigarette into the holder, Tom spotted and grabbed a vintage lighter from the table.