"Sleep tight..." The guard's voice mockingly echoed; his laughter following him as he lumbered away.
"Good riddance." Tony scoffed, roughly rattling the prison bars in his wake before turning and nodding in the direction of the cot. "Is su casa mi casa?"
Angela's eyes stared to well; she couldn't look at him, couldn't even crack a smile, and when he moved to put his arm around her, she dismissively shrugged off his touch.
"Oh, Ay," he said, "I know this hasn't been the romantic night we'd been plannin' on, but we're here, we're together, what's the problem, Angela?"
"You mean aside from the bars, cement, and overall confinement?" She tried to transfer the momentary anger she felt onto the situation at hand, rather than address the elephant that had come crashing into their small cell. She sighed resignedly; he'd get it out of her eventually; he always did; he just had that face.
"I can't give you what you want, what you need, what you desire." She choked back sobs. "What are you talkin' about, Angela? You've given me everything--- Our home, our family, not to mention I've seen ya, twice now, in nothing at all, and let's just say 'restraint' doesn't even begin to---" "I thought you only saw the bubbles," she said, ribbing him playfully.
"That first time...yeah, well, I told a little little white lie 'cause I didn't want you to can me, and just throwing you on the bed on our second night together, no matter how much I may have wanted to, woulda seen you puttin' me in restraints, so..." "So, as I see it---" She stared at him pointedly, tapping a perfectly manicured finger to her chin, "You've just admitted lying to your boss," she said, tracing that finger slowly across his lips. "Tsk, tsk." Tony swallowed hard, for there was no denying it, she had him, strung up, by his balls
"You're more than just my boss, Angela. Take a look at at us, will ya? I'm standin' here in nothin' but boxers and a t-shirt, and you, you're in nothin' but a beach blanket, and then there's these---" He said, reveling the role of both sinner and saint, his impish smile spreading into an all-out devilish grin as he pulled a pair of black, French-cut lace panties from his pocket.
"You've had those all this this time?" She asked incrediously. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape. Who was he? Houdini??
His eyes held hers, remembering a night of candlelight, wine, and a conversation interrupted. She cautiously met his gaze, unsure if she should return with him to the finality and ambiguity of it all. Those signatures, in black ink, annulling their life together blurred in her mind before he succeeded in bringing her back; back to that night, her eyes catching sight of his sly smile amid the candlight and wine, always alluding to more than his words ever could. Was she single, married, divorced??? Seven years with him, and hell if she knew. She had gone to the tavern in need of an an escape; the personal ad simply a means of comic relief and release. He'd followed her lead, needing it too, whatever 'it' was.
"What exactly do you think we are?" She queried, experiencing the slightest hint of deja vu in posing the same question she'd asked of him all those years before. Had everything changed? Had nothing changed? What did she expect him to say? She asked herself. She expected him to waltz around the question, and athough she never quite knew where he might be leading her, waltzing with Tony was great, life with Tony was great, and sex with Tony would be... Her cheeks involuntarily flushed; the thin line of her lips curving slowly in anticipation. Nah, she wasn't going to go there. He caught sight of the semi-narcotic expression on her face and smiled. "I don't wanna talk about what did or didn't happen tonight. I wanna make love, here and now. I wasn't kiddin' when I said we'd spend our honeymoon in prision. He was adamant, and who was she to deny him in his adamancy?
"How 'bout a dance, baby?" Before she had a chance to protest, his strong arms eveloped her swaddled form,eyeing her with a mixure of admiration and anusemement.