A Mother Daughter Shopping Trip Part Two

On a Saturday in mid-April, Angela finally confronted the outfit her mother had purchased for her. Although she'd already worn a couple of the gowns she purchased, to Tony's great pleasure; she'd been keeping this garment and its companion smoking jacket secret in the back of the closet. They were closed up in a garment bag, away from Tony's thorough cleaning habits. Every once in a while, she dared to look at it, but she always zipped the bag up again very quickly, silently blaming her mother for placing this temptation in her path.

They were never going to have a better chance. Jonathan was going out to California to visit his father over school vacation, claiming he needed a break from the newlyweds. Mona invited Sam to stay with her while Jonathan was away. Tony shocked everyone by not objecting to this plan. It shouldn't have been so much of a shock, Tony was coming to terms with the fact that his daughter was in college and there was little he could do to stop her growing up. It might also be said that Tony was more focused on creating another child to raise than on the one who had already been out the door more than once. Another plus to the plan would be that he and Angela would be alone in the house. An empty house for a whole week. However would they manage to find an activity to pass the time?

In her room, Angela pulled the garment bag out of the closet and threw it on the bed. If she was going to wear this, it was going to be today. Tony was still at the library, finishing some research, he wouldn't be home for a couple of hours. Mona, Sam and Jonathan left an hour ago to grab some dinner and drop Jonathan off at the airport. Even with dinner, he would still be early for his flight, but he wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible. After Jonathan's departure, Mona and Sam were going to spend the night in Manhattan. It should be a testament to Tony's newly wedded bliss that he didn't object to that part of the plan either.

In the silent house, Angela stared at the bag; almost daring it to taunt her, it almost did. After a couple of false starts, she opened the bag and pulled out the costume her mother had chosen for her. It was apparent that between this dress and the smoking jacket that Mona had spared none of Angela's money. She stood in front of the full length mirror and held the outfit up in front of her. She had to admit it was kind of cute. A decision had to be made, if she was going to do this, she had preparations to make: dinner would have to be ordered, the small dining table set up in front of the fireplace, the champagne needed to be put on ice. Several other details went through Angela's mind as she continued to stare into the mirror.

Doubt creeped in. Would Tony like this on her? Would he hate it? She had only one way to find out; by wearing it. Her mother's words came back to goad her, "I'll never know if you wear it or not." It was true, her mother wouldn't know. Decision made, Angela put the dress on the bed and went downstairs to take care of creating a romantic setting.

A little more than an hour later, the preparations were complete. The food was in the kitchen, the table was set, the champagne was chilling, and the smoking jacket was placed of the back of the sofa. Even the silly pipe her mother insisted on purchasing was on the table behind the couch. Why, Angela didn't know, she couldn't see Tony actually using it, no matter what her mother said.

Angela was dressed and waiting for Tony near the staircase. Her nerves were getting to her. She paced, wringing her hands. She considered changing her clothes about a million times. This was crazy, what had she been thinking? Whatever possessed her to even consider actually wearing this?

She could still go up and change, she reasoned; Tony would never know the difference. She should go change, really she should, this was crossing a line they shouldn't cross. This wasn't worth all this anxiety. But really, why was she anxious? Tony wasn't likely to laugh at her. He wouldn't, would he? This hadn't crossed her mind before and now she was scared; she wouldn't be able to handle Tony laughing at her when she was this far out on a limb.

She had to keep reminding herself that this was just a fun little game for them. It was, wasn't it? Angela took a deep breath to calm herself. She heard Tony's car pull in the driveway, there was still time for her to run upstairs if she hurried. Yes, that was it, she'd run upstairs and change. Angela flew up to the landing and then stopped herself. She could do this, it could be fun, what was she being so uptight about? She took another deep breath and walked back down the stairs, her heart racing in anticipation.

Tony hadn't noticed the time, now running late, he opened the front door in a hurry to toss his keys on the side table and rush to start dinner. Not yet facing the staircase, he slammed the front door behind him, he turned to call out, "Ang...," and stopped. Stopped walking, stopped talking, almost stopped breathing; for the sight that greeted him shocked him to his core. There was Angela, standing at the bottom of the staircase wearing a very short, very low cut and if Tony could have formulated an opinion at that moment, very cute black satin French maid's outfit. The skirt was full, with a white lace trimmed petticoat peeking out from the hem, the sleeves were short, puffy and trimmed with white lace. The neckline charmed with its sweetheart shape and there was a white satin ribbon criss-crossing the bodice, ending in a bow at the waist. The bow served no useful purpose, it just looked good.

And Tony thought she looked damned good.

Tony stared at Angela, still in shock, but recovering enough to give Angela a very long, very lingering once-over; make that twice-over; maybe even three times over. He noticed her legs, shown off to their greatest advantage in what he would later discover to be black stockings. Right now the type of hosiery Angela was wearing was barely registering, he was more interested in the complete vision in front of him, from the satin and lace headband she wore in her upswept hair all the way down to the tips of the black patent leather heels with the grosgrain ribbon bow tied closures. This was a side of Angela he never dreamed existed and he found it extremely sexy.

Tony's books fell to the floor, and Angela was thrilled and emboldened by this reaction.

"Ang...," he tried to say, but Angela spared him any further speech trauma.

"Angélique," Angela purred in her best French accent.

For some reason Tony was having a difficult time catching his breath.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur," Angélique said.

Angélique, Angélique; for some reason that name was ringing a very faint bell for Tony. He knew he had heard that name in conjunction with Angela somewhere, but his mind was in no shape to make the connection. It was the name Angela had used when she tried to write a romance novel; if only Tony had been paying more attention to Angela's words then he might not have been so surprised by her highly functioning libido now.

"Bon...bon..."

"...soir," she finished helpfully.

He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together, his peripheral vision had somehow managed to catch a glimpse of champagne on the coffee table and dinner by the fireplace, if Angela had gone to this much trouble, he didn't want to disappoint her, "another outfit from your trip to Rhapsody?" He decided he really needed to get to this store – soon.

She nodded, "you said you wanted to study French tonight, oui?"

"Oui, but I didn't expect full immersion."

"We will discuss full immersion later."

Having no more books to drop, Tony's jaw dropped instead; he blinked a couple of times and shook his head, trying to register what Angela just said. He must be dreaming, he decided. Yes, that was it, he fell off a ladder at the library and he was currently unconscious and dreaming all of this. For it could not be possible that his conservative, repressed Angela was playing with stereotypes by turning the tables on their relationship and was standing in front of him in a maid's outfit, looking so risqué and making a risqué comment. He blinked a couple of more times; the vision was still there. He idly wondered if there would be any lessons in French kissing tonight, he sure hoped so.

Angela paid no notice to his distress or her comment, instead she clasped his hand and led him to the couch. "Asseyez-vous, s'il vous plaît."

"Vous? I thought we were on a 'tu' name basis," how Tony even managed to make such an astute observation was in itself a miracle.

"Oh, Monsieur, 'ow you flirt," Angélique purred.

Tony's bewilderment knew no bounds; but he was more than willing to play along. So he sat down. His legs were threatening to give out anyway, so sitting seemed like the wise option. He still couldn't believe Angela was dressed as a maid. For any other couple this would be a fun little game of dress up. For them it took the roles of their former relationship and blurred the lines they never dared to cross; smashing any remnants of the boss and employee relationship they used to have along the way.

"Bien. Champagne? Did you know that only champagne from the Champagne region of France can truly be called champagne? All else is just sparkling wine."

"Yes."

Angélique wasn't sure if her husband's affirmative answer referred to knowing that fact or that he wanted champagne; his eyes had a glazed look, so she took his response as an answer to both questions and poured two glasses of true Champagne.

Tony's stunned reaction when he saw her upon entering the house had encouraged Angela in this game they were playing. She very deliberately leaned over the coffee table, letting her skirt lift up as she poured the champagne. And that's when Tony found out Angela was wearing stockings, with a garter belt. He wanted to reach out and touch that charming bit of thigh above her stocking, but wasn't sure he had the strength to move; nor did he care to startle her. Tony closed his eyes extremely briefly and thanked whatever powers that be for this woman; not for the view she was giving him, which he was enjoying immensely, but for being such a confident, loving woman who was not afraid to be vulnerable with her husband.

Angela finished pouring the champagne and turned to Tony. What she saw in his eyes made her blush several shades of red. Desire. Plain, unadulterated, primal desire was in his eyes. A thrill ran through Angela. She was about to serve him his glass of champagne when she remembered something very important. Tony's smoking jacket was still waiting to be worn, even though it was prominently displayed on the couch, Tony had been so distracted by Angela that he hadn't even noticed it.

Tony started to reach for the glass of champagne when Angela suddenly stopped and put the glass on the coffee table. He was startled by this surprise interruption.

"Oh, monsieur, 'ow silly of me, I 'ave forgotten your smoking jacket."

"Smoking jacket?" Tony mumbled somewhat bewildered. "What's a smoking jacket?" he asked with a little more coherence.

"Voilà!" Angela pulled the jacket off the back of the couch and showed it to him. It was nothing more than a short robe, burgundy brocade with a black satin shawl collar and cuffs. A black satin belt completed the simple garment. Tony looked at it and said, "they have men's wear at this store too?"

"Oui," was Angélique's answer. It would be a word she'd use often tonight.

Tony, seduced beyond reason at this point, would acquiesce to any request his wife made, so when he stood in front of him, holding the jacket with a questioning look on her face, he was confused. "Take me, I'm yours," he joked.

Angela smiled, it was obvious that he'd missed the same detail that she'd missed. Their mutual seduction at the doorway had not only made them oblivious to the smoking jacket waiting on the couch, it had blinded them to the light jacket Tony was wearing when he came into the house. Before Angela could put the smoking jacket on Tony, she had to take care of the detail of removing this obstacle first. She sat down next to him and tugged on the collar of the jacket he was wearing.

This alerted Tony to their predicament, "oh, yeah," he said and he nudged forward on the couch and started to take off the jacket himself.

Angélique put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, "please monsieur, allow me."

He looked her in the eye and said, "far be it from me to deny you anything."

"Merci." She dropped the smoking jacket on the couch in the small space in between them, then clasped a side of the collar with each hand and drew the jacket off his shoulders. She leaned close into Tony, affording him a new view, down the front of her dress. He had no complaints about this either. Neither did she for that matter. The coat fell down Tony's back, he helped matters along by shrugging one arm out of a sleeve while Angelique pulled at the cuff. They repeated the action with the other sleeve. Angélique dragged the jacket off the couch and stood up. Since she was currently charged with keeping the house tidy, she was going to do a good job. The jacket was going on its accustomed peg by the door. The fact that this would give Tony a chance to admire her legs and the way her skirt would sway as she walked had nothing to do with this decision. Nothing at all.

As she reached the coat rack she heard Tony speak, "if I said I could get very used to this, would you hurt me?"

Angela turned to walk back to him, smiled wryly and sat down next to him. She put her arms around his neck and whispered, "oui," but her eyes were sparkling as she kissed his cheek. With her arms still around him she said, "now, about this smoking jacket..."

"I'm not fully undressed yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not leaving this shirt on."

"Oh," Angélique blushed. How had she not thought of that herself? She moved one hand down to the top button. In a surprise move, Tony's hand came over hers. "I'm doing this one myself," he said.

Angela's blush grew even deeper, "if you insist," she said as she pulled her arms away.

"I do," he answered as he popped button after button, exposing his chest. Angela watched him, not bothering to hide her rapt attention. The buttons undone, Tony pulled the shirt out of his pants and quickly removed his arms from the sleeves, dropping the shirt on the side of the couch.

Angela felt like applauding, and she didn't care if the house was suddenly untidy, that shirt was staying exactly where Tony left it.

"It is a crime to cover-up such perfection," Angélique said.

"Merci," Tony preened.

They looked at each other; for a few moments, then kissed. Tony got his answer on whether or not there would be French kissing tonight, the answer was most definitely, "oui."

"I love you so," he whispered in her ear as they ended their first kiss of the night.

"I love you too," she said as she snuggled in for a hug.

He held her close for a little while, but eventually something bothered him, "Angela, I can't believe I am saying this, but I feel under-dressed."

She laughed a couple of short, breathy laughs and dug out the smoking jacket from in between the seat cushions. "I think you'll have to stand up for this."

He complied and turned away from her. Angélique slipped the jacket on to his muscular arms, and over his shoulders, enjoying the way the fabric conformed to his shape. Tony enjoyed the way her hands felt as the moved up his arms. He turned around to let Angélique fold one side of the jacket over the other and knot the sash. Her worked done, Angélique surveyed the fruits of her labors. She gazed lovingly at her husband, very pleased with the results. He looked great in the jacket; not as great as he looked out of the jacket, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

Tony felt like a million bucks from this treatment, but more from his wife's tender love which was shining in her eyes. He moved to sit back down on the couch, when his eyes caught something on the back table, he reached for it, "a pipe?"

Angela shrugged.

Tony played along. He sat down, popped the pipe in his mouth and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Now it's time for champagne."

"Oui," there was that affirmative answer from Angélique encore. She picked up the glasses and sat down beside her husband. He looked quite comfortable playing the privileged Lord of the Manor, and she was very happy that tonight was turning out so well.

Bored with the pipe, Tony tossed it onto the coffee table so he could concentrate on more important things like champagne and Angela; and not necessarily in that order.

"To what shall we drink tonight?" he asked.

"France?"

"La belle France!" he toasted and they clinked glasses.

After taking a sip Angela took a turn at a toast, "to liberté!" they drank again.

"Égalité!" Tony raised another toast.

"Fraternité," they said together, sealing that toast with the fraternization of a kiss.

"I love France," Tony said when they finally finished their fraternizing.

"You've been?" this would be a surprise to Angela, he'd never mentioned going to France before.

"No, I haven't been; but why should that stop me from loving it?"

"Good point. Oh, Tony; we should go! We could skip a couple of honeymoon states and go international instead. What better place romance is there than Paris?"

"This room would give Paris a run for its romantic money."

Angela smiled, "touché."

"Ooh, nice turn of the French word there, Angela," he groaned.

She grinned, "merci. speaking of French words, you did want to study tonight."

"I'm not sure I can concentrate on studying right now."

Angela beamed, she loved being able to reduce this very capable man to one who was little more than a libido. She reveled inside when he viewed her as an object of desire. She blushed again. Tabling both the champagne glasses and any more talk of a possible Parisian honeymoon, Angélique returned, "now, we need your French book." She looked around, pretending not to know where it was, "oh, you 'ave left your book by the door," she said when she finally "found" the book. That was being kind, it was one of the books on the floor. "I will get the book for you and then we will study, bien?"

"Bien." Those two syllables were about all Tony was capable of at the moment.

Angélique sauntered over to the door. Once again she very deliberately bent over, giving Tony that delightful view of stockings and thigh. It took her far longer than necessary to pick up the book. For this Tony was grateful. Angela was going to pick up only the French book and leave the rest on the floor as a testament to passion; but after she stood up, she realized that what could be better than bending over three more times, once for each book still left on the floor. Somehow she thought Tony just might happen to like that. So that's exactly what she did. One at a time, Angela bent over a picked up a book. She took the book over to the table near the door and dropped the book there. Three times. Tony was going crazy.

When she finally finished her tidying up, she slowly walked back over to the couch and sat down. "Didn't want to leave a mess," she said innocently, "now, which chapter are you studying?"

Tony, who hadn't taken his eyes off her since she walked over to the books had only one answer, "no idea."

Angela blushed again. She opened the book to a random page and recited, "Monsieur Henri va à la plage."

"I hope he found a babe in a bikini there," he said thinking of a certain babe on a beach in a bikini, and less.

"Tony, if Monsieur Henri is going to the beach...never mind. Do you want to study or not?"

She couldn't be serious with that question. All thoughts of studying flew out of his head the second he saw her, but he decided on a compromise. "How about we conjugate...a verb?"

Tony had put just enough spin on conjugate to make it sound more than a little suggestive. Angela caught it and warily asked, "just which verb did you have in mind?"

"Aimer."

Angela was blushing again.

"Je t'aime," Tony started.

"Je t'aime," Angela repeated, even though she wasn't the one who was supposed to be studying.

"Tu...eh, who cares about the rest of them?"

Angela giggled as they went back to studying French by kissing. The poor, abused French book fell off Angela's lap and onto the floor again, where it stayed until Monday morning. They leaned back into one corner of the couch, Angela placed her hands on her husband's face; he had one arm around her, the other took its time sliding down the length of Angela's side. When he reached the bottom of her skirt, he finally took his chance to explore the luscious skin that had been semi-hidden to him earlier. His hand slipped up beneath her skirt and took its time caressing the naked skin he'd been aching to touch since the first moment he saw it. It was an intoxicating sensation, feeling the bits of exposed skin in between the skirt and the stockings. Angela must have liked it too as she moaned and wrapped a leg around Tony. They stayed on the couch, indulging in prolonged moments of kissing and touching.

A short, gruff laugh from Tony brought their activities to a quick halt. Angela pulled away, suddenly terrified that Tony had come to his senses about the absurdity of their situation and was laughing at it. She hoped not, because dropping all her business owner responsibilities was allowing her to have a lot of fun. "What is it, Tony?" she asked, worried.

She needn't have worried, Tony's eyes were gleaming and his warm lips were cocked into a wry grin as he said, "wanna play?"

"I thought we were?" she responded warmly, her palm caressing his cheek.

"I think the cliché has the man chasing his lady around a couch." He looked around the couch suggestively.

"I didn't know you were into clichés."

Tony took several moments to openly gaze at his wife and the outfit she was wearing. Angela melted even more at the way he looked at her.

"Sometimes things become cliché for a reason; they are tried and true...and they work," Tony said tearing his eyes away from his wife's attire and back to look into her own.

She smiled back at him, "you're going to have to give me a little head start in these heels."

"Fine," Tony sat back and placed his hands behind his head, seemingly very relaxed.

Angela was setting a record for blushing tonight. Tony was looking at her as a woman and nothing but a woman, she was so grateful for his ability to free her from her daily responsibilities. For so long men had ignored her femininity, all through school she'd watched as other women were romanced as she sat home alone. She desperately wanted to be wanted, but was always overlooked, causing her to throw herself into work. Although the work had paid off nicely, it was wonderful to be admired for her feminine assets as well, even if a wave of self-consciousness was threatening to well up and smother any courage she had built up this evening. Her courage returned as she looked in her husband's eyes which were filled with love, and a little dare. An old memory surfaced, that of running around the kitchen table throwing flour at each other; there hadn't been anything uncomfortable about that, in fact it had turned into one of the best memories of her life, but that hadn't started out as blatantly sexual as this was.

Tony saw Angela phase out as all these thoughts ran through her head. He took his arms down, leaned forward and kissed his wife's cheek, "hello?"

"Sorry, just got a little nervous."

"Why? It's just us."

"You're right," and faster than Tony could have imagined Angela left him sitting alone on the couch. She headed toward the kitchen, leaving the door swinging behind her as Tony rushed to catch up with her. Angela ignored the flour this time, but was near the sink when Tony came barging into the kitchen. They stared each other down on either side of the table, slowly walking a full circle around it but not closing the gap between them. When she finally reached the point past the stove, Angela broke off and ran into the dining room leaving another door swinging behind her. Tony was caught by surprise, but followed quickly.

In the dining room, Angela was "hiding" behind one of the chairs at the far end of the long table. They stared each other down again, both of them feinting the direction they were going to go. Tony finally broke the stalemate by sauntering down the length of the table. He could have moved more quickly, of course; but he didn't want to catch Angela just yet. Angela giggled and ran away from him, back to the living room, leaving a third door swinging behind. Tony followed again, picking up the pace of his running. In the living room, Angela was using the chair nearest the front door as a barricade between Tony and herself. He grinned at her; she giggled again. Tony was finding that giggle a better aphrodisiac than champagne, oysters and chocolate combined. He rushed to her location, but she was surprisingly fast and nimble in those heels and ran behind the couch to wind up behind the chair opposite her previous position.

Angela smiled at him from her safe place. Tony smiled back, but Angela knew that smile was just to lull her into a false sense of security and that soon he would make his move.

Angela was correct as Tony decided to take the shortcut and double back towards the dining room, bypassing the couch completely.

"Tony!" Angela's voice trilled as she ran back around the couch and away from her love. Tony heard the joy in her voice and let the glory of it sink into his heart. The chase was on, they circled the furniture in the living room, laughing all the way.

Never had there been this sort of hanky-panky while Tony was in Angela's employ; but both found that having Angela be the "employee" was letting them live out a fantasy that neither knew they had. It was liberating to indulge in behavior that the whole neighborhood had had them engaging in for years, albeit with a little twist.

Neither was sure how many times they ran around the couch, but when Tony realized they were wasting energy on running that they could be using for other activities, he knew it was time to end the game. As Angela turned the corner from the side chair near the kitchen door to the couch, Tony caught up to her and grabbed her around the waist with his right arm. Angela thrilled to the strength of his touch, it fulfilled a long held fantasy for her. He pulled her close as she wriggled, pretending to try to get away. "Tony!" she laughed, long and low. Tony kissed the nape of her neck.

The front door opened.

Two more jaws dropped. Those belonging to Jonathan and Samantha. Mona wasn't at all surprised, so her jaw didn't drop; she just grinned, madly.

"Mama!" Angélique shouted. Angela shook her head, trying to rid herself of any French persuasions, in a hurry. "Mother, I thought you were at the airport." Tony looked up and pulled his wife a little closer, which informed Angela that they needed to get the rest of the family out of the house for more reasons than the most blatant.

"Obviously. I see you decided to have a little fun."

Sam was biting her cheeks to keep from laughing, it was barely working. She couldn't keep the grin off her face and held her hand over her mouth in an attempt to cover any escaping laugh. She looked everywhere else in the room to get her attention off her dad and Angela, but there was no place safe to look. There were champagne glasses on the coffee table, her dad's school books on the table near the door, and the small table set up for dinner by the fireplace. Even if she looked at the very boring dining room door, she could still see them with her peripheral vision. Sam suddenly found her shoes to be very interesting.

Jonathan was shocked into immobility, "I am so going to need therapy," he said.

Angela ignored the remarks of both her mother and her son, "don't the three of you have some place you need to be? Other than here? The airport, for instance. Or...anywhere?" she said desperately, and a little harshly. This was her worst nightmare; if for no other reason than knowing that her mother was going to gloat over this for a long time. She wished she could wipe the smug look off her mother's face.

"I may never be able to come home again," Jonathan mumbled, still shell-shocked.

"Stop over-reacting, Jonathan," his grandmother admonished.

"Over-reacting? Don't you find this disturbing?" Jonathan finally came out of his stupor and asked.

"If I thought it disturbing, I wouldn't have bought the outfits," Mona answered simply.

Jonathan leaned back against the door jamb, and started hitting his head against the wall. His mom and Tony dressing like this was one thing; his grandmother buying the clothes brought it to a whole other, very disturbing level, although he really shouldn't have been surprised. "I'm going to need therapy for the next ten years," he whined.

"Oh, Jonathan, they are just having a little fun," Sam said, trying to sooth the situation. She and Jonathan were in a place few kids had experience with, but she saw no reason to let it bother her; and if she could handle this, then so could Jonathan.

"Fun's fine, but they needn't be so kinky about it."

"Kinky? Jonathan, if you think this is kinky, you don't know the meaning of the word," his grandmother informed him.

"We are right here, listening to every word you are saying, you know. And could you please shut the door, the rest of Fairfield doesn't need to know about this," Angela said. Now very worried that the rest of Fairfield would find out about this. Jonathan vehemently shut the door, he wouldn't be able to face Fairfield if any hint of what was going on in this house got out.

Tony wasn't saying anything, but he wasn't letting go of Angela either.

"Would it be too much to ask why you are here? We thought the three of you had other plans," Angela said.

"Nah, too easy," Mona said as she let the "it's obvious you had other plans too," crack go and explained, "Jonathan forgot his math book."

Business Angela was back, "Jonathan, where is your book?" she demanded.

"Upstairs," he answered, looking at the side table and not at his mother.

"Then you'd better go and get it," she prompted.

"I won't find anything kinky upstairs, will I?" he asked, too scared to find out the answer.

His mother crossed her arms and glared at him. Jonathan felt the heat of her gaze and almost broke the sound barrier heading upstairs.

"I could have Fedexed the book to you," she yelled up to him.

A plaintive, "nooooooooo!" was heard from upstairs as Jonathan realized that he could have been spared this horror if only he had the sense to remember those pretty white trucks that delivered anything, anywhere; overnight.

Angela now glared at her mother, daring her to say something.

"You look cute, Angela," she dared. This was far too much fun for her, she hadn't stopped grinning from the moment she walked through the door, and she wouldn't stop grinning for some time to come.

An exasperated Angela hid her face in her hand, desperately wishing her mother would go away. Tony wished the rest of the family would go away too, but for different reasons.

"Soo, nice weather we're having," Tony noted. He could have thanked Mona for the outfits as he had only just been informed that she had purchased them, but he didn't think Angela would care for him discussing what they were wearing with her mother; and since it was very likely that Angela paid for them anyway, thanking Mona would be silly.

Angela slumped even more and whispered to her husband, "what are you talking about?" Trust Tony to try and relieve a most awkward situation with the smallest of small talk, but all she really wanted to do was crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

He leaned his head closer to her ear and whispered to her, "I gotta talk about something."

"Maybe I'll just go wait in the car," Sam decided, but before she could even turn to grab the door handle, Jonathan came bounding back downstairs. He made a beeline for the door, whisked it open and was outside as quickly as he could go. "Bye!" he yelled back inside. Sam shrugged and followed him out, saying "bye" on her way.

Mona walked out the door, slowly; as she pulled the door almost shut she said, "I knew you'd wear it." She winked, grinned even more and made a mental note to tell Tony about the men's shopping nights at Rhapsody. The last comment Tony and Angela heard was Jonathan's miserable, "I'm going to need therapy for the rest of my life," as the front door shut completely, leaving them once again blissfully alone. As they left Jonathan vowed not to return again even if he remembered he forgot his toothbrush, or anything else for that matter. No matter what his possible need, they'd have it in California.

Angela sighed, still keeping her head in her hand. "It's ruined, Tony; I'm sorry, the whole evening is ruined," Angela shook her head.

"No, it isn't, Angela." His enthusiasm had waned a little, true; but he expected that to be remedied soon enough. He turned his wife toward him, "everything is fine, Angela. I love you."

"I love you too, but the kids...mother..." she slumped against his shoulder.

"The kids will get over it; even Jonathan. And your mother..."

"Will never let me forget this," she finished for him, "she'll tell the whole office about it."

"Angela, your mother is not going to cross that line."

She looked up at him, hope starting to come back into her eyes, "you sure?"

"Yes, she will not compromise the business you have worked so hard to build. She'll have more fun knowing you are worrying about when the other shoe is going to drop, so she will never bring this up to you."

He did have a point, it would be more Mona's style to let Angela fret about nothing. She had faith in Tony, so his words soothed her worried ego, but she still wasn't completely past this major interruption they'd suffered.

"I need a hug," she whispered.

Tony circled his arms around her and held her as tightly as he could. She clung to him for strength, letting her head rest on his strong shoulders. This moment was exactly what she needed; being in Tony's arms took away all the stress of the past few minutes and brought her attention back to the two of them.

Tony's stomach growling brought them out of their hugging bliss. "Sorry," he said.

"I'm hungry too, I forgot we haven't eaten."

Tony looked toward the fireplace, "there seems to be provisions made for dining."

"True," Angela looked over and agreed.

"So how about we eat, sound good?" he asked gently.

She smiled and nodded.

"Good," he hugged her again and kissed her forehead. Hand in hand they walked over to the little table.

"Looks beautiful, Angela," Tony said as they arrived, "but why is there only one chair and one place set?"

"C'est pour tu, Monsieur." Angélique was starting to return.

"Moi?"

"Oui," Angélique said as she sat him down in the one and only chair.

"Where are you going to eat?" he asked, confused.

"Moi?" she asked ever so innocently as she sank down on his lap, "ici."

Tony smiled, he couldn't argue with her choice of chair, even if he felt this would be the shortest dinner ever.

"Oh, no; we 'ave forgotten the champagne! And the food!" Angélique noticed. "Reste ici, I will get it." Angela was off his lap far more quickly than Tony would have wanted, but he listened to his wife's request and stayed where he was.

Angela returned with the glasses of champagne and set them on the table. She then went to the kitchen and returned with dinner, which she set in front of Tony, then resumed her place "ici".

Tony was glad to see Angélique coming back out to play.

"For dinner tonight, we 'ave steak, mashed potatoes, and carrots. From "Antoine's" so you need not worry."

Tony had other concerns on his mind, "what's for dessert?"

Angela grinned, "you will 'ave to wait and see."

"Oh, a dessert with a visual, my favorite kind of dessert."

Angela laughed, then picked up a dollop of mashed potato and fed it to her husband.

"Delicious," was his response, loaded with enough meaning to cover both the food and the action.

Angela then cut a piece of steak which Tony ate and declared delicious also.

"Champagne?" Angélique asked.

Tony nodded. She brought the glass up to his lips and tilted. The champagne was delicious too, but Tony refrained from comment this time. Instead he took the glass and held it up to Angela's lips, she drank and closed her eyes in ecstasy as the bubbles slipped down her throat.

Tony thought that dinner might be a very short event tonight as he watched Angela's reaction. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Tony put the glass back on the table and picked up the fork and fed some carrots to Angela. "Delicious," she pronounced, letting the joy of the moment reach her eyes.

They continued feeding each other, which to his surprise, Tony found to be very erotic. Never before in his life had food been used with such finesse. Although Tony had been around plenty of women willing to tend to his every need, never had the food and the willingness been combined with such intoxicating results. This was probably due to the fact that it was so far out of her norm for Angela to behave like this. He hoped she was enjoying this just as much as he was.

She was. Angela found that tending to Tony's dinner needs was strangely liberating. It might have something to do with the fact that since Tony's hands were free from having to cut that one hand could once again find its way up Angela's skirt and stroke her thighs. The one minor downside to this was that it had a tendency to distract Angela, for some reason the fork kept slipping out of her hand. Angela's reactions only spurred Tony on, his hand traced longer strokes down her thighs, but never came out from its hiding place underneath her skirt. His other arm held her tightly as she blushed again. "Tony," she sighed as she closed her eyes in bliss. This may be the best dinner they'd ever had.

There was only so much Tony could stand before he said, "Angela, we are going to have to skip dessert."

"Good, because the only dessert I have planned is on your lap."

"Best dessert ever."

Dinner over, for now; Angela leaned into him, put a palm on his neck and kissed him. Nothing but pure rapture enveloped them. They had to get upstairs, Angela knew this, but she was enjoying this so much that she hated to end it even though she knew it would only be a short, necessary pause before they would have even more enjoyment.

Tony was getting desperate. It was time to bring the party upstairs; as much as he didn't want to stop kissing Angela, he had to. Making a swift break, he removed his hand from under her skirt and placed it gently around her wrist. Angela missed Tony's hand the second he pulled it away.

"Tony," she whimpered as she drew away from the kiss.

"Sorry, babe; but...you know." He nudged her a little.

She knew.

She nodded and dragged herself, reluctantly, off his lap. She grasped both of his hands with her own and helped him out of the chair.

By mutual, silent decision they left the food on the table as they ran upstairs where Tony achieved full immersion.

More than once.