Reunion The Sequel

This is my version of a sequel to the story "Reunion" that I posted a couple months ago. By mutual agreement, writingdragon is posting an alternate sequel titled "Reclaiming a Life," which, if we did it right, should appear at about the same time as this one.

*

Angelica killed the headlights and motor before coasting the Z4 into the driveway of the darkened house. She reached for the door handle, but hesitated long enough to switch off the overhead light before using it. Muffling the sound of the closing door as best she could, Angelica crept across the lawn to stifle the sound of her heels.

Mentally cursing the metallic rasp of her key in the lock, Angelica stepped into the foyer and waited for her eyes to adjust to the hated darkness. Typically she would have used the remote on her key chain to turn the house into a welcoming blaze of light. But not tonight.

Still bathed in her betrayal of earlier in the evening, she moved like a burglar through her own home, feeling her way up the carpeted stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom. Now the hardest part, she thought. After slipping out of her shoes and dress, Angelica eased under the covers, willing her 5'4 frame to be even smaller and to cling to the very edge of the mattress.

The silence that surrounded her told her that her stealth had been rewarded. The silence lied.

"Ciao, bella, how was your reunion?" came the voice from the other side of the bed.

How can I possibly answer that, she thought. How can I tell my husband, who has given me everything I could possibly want, that I just had the best sex of my life? How do I tell him that the man I have fantasized about for 20 years is impossibly more wonderful than I could have imagined? How do I tell him I'm in love for the first time in my life? The words rushed through her head as she searched for the perfect answer.

"It was fine, Paolo," she said.

"Ah, bono, it's good a young, beautiful woman such as you has a chance to go out and enjoy herself sometimes." Even at 37, Angelica was young, very young, compared with her 68-year-old husband. "But even while I'm thinking this, I'm also thinking how much I miss you tonight."

Angelica felt the mattress shift and knew that it meant Paolo was turning toward her. "Not tonight," she thought, "please, please not tonight."

"I'm thinking how pretty you looked, how sexy, in your silk dress." Paolo's voice had become a hoarse whisper and Angelica knew what was coming. And she knew she couldn't refuse. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she owed him.

"I'm also thinking how you would look even prettier without it, the way you are now," Paolo continued as his paper-dry hand traced a line across her naked belly.

Had he moved that hand to her breast he would have felt the panic-induced hummingbird pace of her heartbeat. Instead, the hand moved lower. "Oh God oh God oh God," the voice in Angelica's head screamed. "I can't let him touch me there or he'll know! I've got to do something!"

Turning onto her side to face her husband, Angelica kissed his cheek lightly. "So you thought about me without my dress on?" she whispered. "Maybe without my bra? Without my panties? Maybe you thought about me touching myself? Would you like to really see that?" Angelica knew the power of Paolo's voyeuristic streak, his passion for pornographic movies and for watching naked girls on a stage. But mostly his passion for watching her when she allowed him into that most private of her worlds.

Paolo was shocked by her offer. This was something he always had to ask for, and even when she agreed he could often sense her reluctance. For an instant, his brain considered asking why, but all his voice choked out was "Yes."

Rolling quickly away from her husband, Angelica sprang from the bed and bent to flick the switch that turned on the night light. The tiny bulb would illuminate her well enough for her to fulfill her promise yet still conceal any evidence of her earlier desktop encounter with J.T. She held the pose for a moment, letting Paolo focus on the swell of her ass.

"Is that the part you like best?" she asked as she straightened, knowing there would be no response. Hearing her was almost as big a part of Paolo's pleasure as watching her. Turning to face away from the bed, Angelica cupped a rounded cheek in each hand and gave a hint of a jiggle before inching them apart. "Especially when I open it to you like this? I know it makes you think of the first time you took me there."

Paolo's eyes lingered on his wife's hands as they kneaded the firm flesh of her ass before sliding up the curves of her hips. Higher they rose, across her trim waist, before they disappeared from his view. When Angelica turned to face him, her hands concealed her breasts. But as her palms moved against her nipples, she separated her fingers, slowly exposing her breasts until the nipples themselves, taut from her own caresses, were visible.

"Or are these what you like best? Do you like seeing me touch my tits, squeezing them, rolling the nipples between my fingers like this?" she said breathily as she sank to her knees, bringing her breasts even with Paolo's eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. As Angelica continued to tease one nipple, she lifted the other breast enough to allow her to lick it. Her tongue circled the areola, wetting it, causing tiny bumps to rise as the flesh tightened in response.

"I love making them wet. Licking them. Sucking them. Feeling the way the cold air makes them harden even more. You like making them wet too, don't you, Paolo? Stroking your cock until it sprays cum onto them? You can do that tonight. You can do that while you watch me fuck myself."

As Angelica saw her husband fish his stiffening cock through the fly of his pajamas, she rolled onto her back and cradled her pussy in one hand. It was slightly sore as she wiggled a finger into it and the sensation brought memories of this evening flooding back. Memories of J.T.'s cock inside her, filling her, stretching her, urging her to a joy the act had never brought her before. She knew she had to keep talking to help push Paolo over the edge, but could she trust herself to not call out J.T.'s name?

Angelica stirred her finger inside her pussy, coaxing the earlier wetness to return. When her finger was slick, she pumped it gently in and out, letting the heel of her hand bump against her clit each time she pushed in.

"Can you hear it, Paolo? Hmmm? Can you hear the greedy, sucking sounds my pussy is making while I finger-fuck it?

As the tempo of her finger increased, Angelica could sense herself back on the desk, riding J.T.'s cock, feeling it pulsate inside her as they rushed toward their blissful release. She no longer had to fake her excitement as the sensation of her finger and the memory movie playing in her head combined to drag her down that path again.

Angelica saw her husband stroking his cock rapidly and knew it was time. A second finger sought her depths as her free hand feathered the tip of her clit. The orgasm was building inside her, but she fought for control, maintaining it long enough to say the words she knew would make her plan a success. "Now, Paolo -- cum on my tits while I fuck my cunt," she cried.

The words still echoed in her head when she felt the splash. Closing her eyes, she imagined it was J.T. spilling himself onto her, imagined its heat as it caressed her in impossibly long cascades. It was the final nudge that pushed her orgasm beyond her control and she rolled over onto her hand, squeezing the fingers inside her until the fire in her tummy burned out.

"Unbelievable." Paolo's voice was barely audible, and when Angelica looked up she saw him lying back on the bed, his now limp cock still clutched in his hand.

It was unbelievable, Angelica thought. Masturbating in front of her husband had always vaguely embarrassed her and the orgasms he saw had always been a tribute to her acting skills, not her sexuality.

"I loved it, too, Paolo. Now I need to go clean myself up." Angelica disappeared into the bathroom where the emotions playing across her face would be safely hidden from her husband's eyes. After lingering there until she felt certain that Paolo would have fallen asleep, Angelica tiptoed back into the bedroom, hesitated long enough to hear the reassuring snores, and then crept back down the stairs to her study. Clutching the alumni directory tightly in both hands, she knew this was her one chance. Do it now or not at all.

J.T. picked up the phone an instant before the answering machine did it for him, half hoping that it would be her, half dreading it. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so very, very sorry. And I could never blame you if you never want to speak to me again, but please let me explain." The words spilled nonstop out of Angelica's mouth as she rushed to get them in before the expected sound of J.T. hanging up the phone. She need not have rushed. There was no "click" when she finished, just an achingly empty silence that seemed to stretch endlessly until she heard his tight voice say, "All right. Tell me."

"Not on the phone. Please. Can I come to your house tomorrow? I swear I'll tell you everything." Again, silence flooded the phone line. "OK, Angelica," J.T. finally responded resignedly. "Ten o'clock. I'm at 231 West Santa Cla ..." "I know where you live. And I'll be there at ten."

Sleep was not a skill that Angelica had ever mastered, so the hours in the middle of the night were often long ones for her. But they had never been this long. There were scattered fitful naps but her eyes didn't miss any of the hourly changes on the digital clock by her bed. Seeing the 7 flash, she gave up any hope of real sleep and dragged herself from under the covers.

Rather than risking waking Paolo with shower noises, she quickly packed a bag and drove to 24-Hour Fitness where an aerobic workout, a sauna and a shower would, she hoped, make up for the sleep she had missed.

At 9:55 she pulled up in front of J.T.'s house in a neighborhood where her BMW wouldn't draw a second glance. Getting there had been easy; making herself open the door wasn't.

"You can do this," she ordered herself, and eventually her body responded, her hand opening the door, her legs propelling her along the walkway and up the three short stairs, her finger pressing the doorbell, her brain fighting off the panic as she heard J.T.'s footsteps approach.

When he opened the door, Angelica searched J.T.'s face for some clue of what he was thinking but saw only the protective blank that she herself had perfected so many years before. "Can I ...?" she said, gesturing toward the inside of his house.

J.T. moved aside and closed the door behind Angelica as she stepped in. "I thought a lot about what I would say when you got here, but maybe it's best if I just let you explain."

"I know just how I want to start, but you have to promise me you'll let me finish. Let me get it all out."

"OK. Start."

Angelica took J.T.'s hand in hers and looked into his eyes, hoping she still had the courage to do this. "I love you. I thought I loved you 20 years ago. After last night, I know it."

Those weren't the words he had expected to hear. But while part of him rejoiced at the sound, another part feared there was still a "but" coming.

"But ...," she continued. "You have to know about me. I ran away last night because I'm married.

Angelica saw the flicker of hurt in J.T.'s eyes before they closed. "Please, love, listen to me."

And he did listen as she told him how she had hidden her life away, working at her parents' deli, living in an impersonal one-bedroom apartment, dating only occasionally and, in her late twenties, coming to believe that this is what her life would always be.

"Then there was a man. An older man. Paolo. A man of respect where I live. He was interested in me, kind to me, said he loved me. I didn't really know what love was but I was pretty sure that isn't what I felt. But I was grateful. Or greedy. Or both. I don't really know. Anyway, it was enough. So I stopped being Angelica Morretti, who was this little cipher that nobody knew or cared about, and became Angelica Devincenzi, who got treated differently and got everything she wanted. Or so I thought."

J.T. had been mesmerized by the matter-of-fact tone in which she had told him of a life that was so lacking in joy, but now her words suddenly snapped him from his trance.

"Wait. You said Paolo. You're Mrs. Paolo Devincenzi?"

"Yes."

"Little Paulie? The mob guy?"

No, J.T., no," she sighed. "People think that, but it's not true. He's Italian, he's in the import business, he's rich, so they figure he must be connected. Then they hear that name -- Little Paulie -- and it's like something out of 'Goodfellas.' He doesn't discourage people from thinking that, but it's just because he likes playing benevolent Don Paolo. He has a big heart. You grow up on the Eastside, you learn that Little Paulie is who you turn to when you need help."

How much of that was truth and how much denial, J.T. couldn't tell. But as he felt Angelica's fingers caress his hand, he knew it didn't matter. What mattered was that she loved him. And if hiding from a guy whose "big heart" it may be very dangerous to break was the price of being with her, he was willing to pay it.

"So, are you through telling me why I shouldn't want to spend the rest of my life with you? Because if you are, it didn't work. Last night you told me, 'If you want me, I'm yours.' Now I'm telling you the same thing. But not for one night. Forever."

Tears clouded Angelica's eyes but she willed them away before wrapping her arms around J.T.'s neck. "You know what people in my old neighborhood would say? They'd say you just made me an offer I can't refuse."

When she brought her lips to J.T.'s mouth, the kiss didn't have the incendiary passion of the previous night, but it had something much better -- a sense of peace, of permanence.

"I do want you, J.T. I want you to be mine -- forever. And I want it to start right now," Angelica said as she stood before slipping her sweater over her head.

This wouldn't be like the last time. She wouldn't ride him in a fantasy-filled frenzy. She wanted him on top of her, feeling his body against her, both inside and outside. And seconds after Angelica had stepped out of her panties and laid back on the couch she had what she wanted. Her pussy tightened around J.T.'s cock in what was more a hug of endearment than a clench of lust.

After so much talking there was no need for more words. Their bodies spoke to each other as they rocked slowly against each other, settling into a gentle rhythm as Angelica curled her legs around the backs of J.T.'s thighs. Each stroke sent tingles of pleasure not just through her pussy, but through her heart as well. There were kisses of love, kisses of passion, kisses that Angelica couldn't describe. Her orgasm wouldn't be a surprise this time. She knew it was inevitable, as inevitable as the one she could sense building in J.T. as his cock thrust more urgently into her. And when his mouth left hers to whisper, "I love you, too," they clung to each other and soared to that special place that just sex alone can't take you.