Belinda's Story Ch. 03

I pissed off the whole day. I couldn't think of anything more to do. I did pack the few things I was going to take with me into the car. When I was finished, I stood there and looked at the beautiful and expensive roadster sitting in the garage. I remembered a Roger Whittaker song. Part of the lyrics talked about a ship lying rigged and ready in the harbor. My car was rigged and ready. It too was lying in its harbor. All I had to do was crank it up and hit the road.

I remembered the morning that Bobby had given me that car just a few months ago. It was the morning of Mother's Day. Both of our kids were there. We spent a big part of the morning taking each other for rides. The top was down and the rides were windy. I felt very close to my children that day. I felt close to Bobby too.

I thought about backing out of the garage and hitting the road right then. I thought, "No. My reserved room will be ready at three o'clock tomorrow. I will be there then.

I rattled around the house doing nothing. Night finally came. I fed myself and eventually, bedtime came. My mind had settled quite a bit. I had no more decisions to make. I crawled into Bobby's bed and lay on my back watching the ceiling fan go around. It was hypnotic in its effect. Sleep came easily. I thought that maybe Bobby would come to share his bed with me in my dreams. He didn't.

XXXXX

I woke early on Monday. The excitement I felt was like that of a kid at Christmas. I would aim to begin my journey by noon at the latest. It was almost seven. I was hungry. I put my shower off and went all out for breakfast. Sausage with eggs, biscuits with gravy, orange juice, and too much coffee sat on the table. To top it off, I opened a can of sliced pears.

The door chimes went off. It was two minutes past eight. I had forgotten, but the maid service came on Mondays and Thursdays. They had skipped last Thursday because it was a holiday, Halloween. I let them in and offered coffee. They sat with me for ten minutes or so. Betty and Pam were their names. One was old and the other young. There was a pretty one and the other was genuinely hard on the eyes. They had been cleaning for me for two years and they did a good job. They were both pleasant to be around and they worked well together.

I said, "Girls, I am home alone. Bobby is off on a trip and the kids are both at school. I haven't made too big a mess of the house, so there isn't much to do. If you will do what little laundry there is, wash these dishes and change the sheets on my bed while I shower, you can then clean the master bath and be finished for the day. That was the plan. We each executed our portion of it and they were gone. I was washed, brushed, and ready to execute a plan of my own.

By ten-thirty, I couldn't wait any longer. I filled a small ice chest with a couple of soft drinks and some snacks. I loaded it into the car on the floor in front of the passenger seat. I was ten minutes after eleven when I accelerated up the on-ramp to the interstate freeway. I was pointed south. The speed limit was seventy miles per hour. The traffic was light. I boosted up to seventy and set my cruise control. I was on my way.

I was careful to obey all the traffic laws, and especially the speed limits. I had no alcohol in the car. I didn't want to be pulled over and if I was, I wanted as little trouble as possible. Any contact or trouble with the law would draw attention to my time away from home. I didn't need a ticket.

The top was up and it was amazingly quiet in the car. My mind was running in overdrive. I put on some music hoping that it would calm me. It didn't. It interfered with my thoughts, so I turned it off after a minute or two.

I turned my plan over in my mind. It was a simple plan that should work flawlessly. It wasn't my plan. I had gotten it from a woman on the web who was a blog contributor. She had said that she had used the plan several times. It worked for her whenever she got the occasional itch in her pants that needed a scratch.

She said that she would go as far from home as she could go comfortably. She would check into an up-scale hotel, make herself as pretty as possible, dress to the nines, go to the bar for a drink, flirt with the most interesting man there, allow him to pick her up and fuck her brains out. She said it always worked for her. I thought it might work for me.

I had modified her plan by mixing it with my do's and don'ts list from the, "Your Husband Doesn't Need to Know," site. I was being extra careful. I intended to keep this secret for the rest of my life. I drove on. My pussy tingled and I had butterflies. I still wasn't sure I could do this.

I spent some time thinking about the attention that my flashy car would draw and the tracks it would leave. The problem was that there were cameras almost everywhere, like in the porta cochere of the hotel. Those cameras are usually set to see a license plate. Bingo, your car can be traced to its owner.

An automobile that can't be traced is almost nonexistent. Rentals won't work as I found out. The renter is scrutinized too closely. You can't get away with renting a car under a fake name. I thought, "I guess I could steal a car, but I didn't want to go to prison over getting laid."

Then it came to me. I wouldn't take my car to the hotel. I would find a safe place to park it off-site and then arrive at the hotel in a taxi. I thought, "How simple, how sweet... it should work." I tried to develop this thought, "Where could I leave my car? I wouldn't want to have to explain how it got stolen or damaged in Parkersville." I thought, "Parkersville has a municipal airport. It would have a protected long-term parking facility and taxicabs would be readily available." My pussy tingled.

I drove on. I covered one hundred and seventy miles in less than three hours. I still had plenty of gas, but I decided to stop at a country station and fill up anyway. That way I would be sure to have enough fuel to get home without having to stop.

The place where I stopped was old and rundown. It was a combination grocery store, gas station, and pawnshop. It was a small mom-and-pop enterprise that wasn't competing very well. There was a restroom, but after seeing it, I opted to wait. I asked about the airport and lucked out again. I was told that it was about three miles ahead and there would be signs to follow. I paid in cash and went on my way. I hadn't seen a camera.

I drove into the airport. There was only one public avenue through it. The small terminal building was on one side and a two-story parking facility on the other. I turned left into the parking facility under a sign that said, "Long Term Parking." I passed through a booth where I was issued a ticket. Prices were posted. I would have to pay four dollars a day. I thought that to be cheap security. I parked in the first open spot that I saw. It was on the first row of the lower level and near a lighted pedestrian gate that opened onto a crosswalk to the terminal.

I retrieved my two small bags, locked the car, and walked the fifty yards to the terminal. The taxi stand was to my right, but I continued into the building. I needed a restroom by this time.

Ten minutes later, a cabbie loaded my bags into the trunk of his car and opened a rear passenger door for me. I asked him to take me to the Rotterdam House Hotel. He assured me that he knew exactly where it was and away we went. It was a ten-minute ride. I paid again in cash and gave the driver a nice tip but not enough for him to remember especially.

I was under the porta cochere of the Rotterdam. A young man in a bellhop uniform carried my bags and ushered me into the lobby and to the front desk. I asked for Ronald. A young man probably in his early twenties appeared from a back office and approached me. He introduced himself and asked how he might help. I identified myself verbally as Lynda Carter.

He said, "Oh, yes Ms. Carter." He paused and turned to the young woman behind the counter. He said, "Please check Ms. Carter in on a cash basis under my authority. Waive her deposit and she will settle upon her departure."

I said, "Thank you, Sir." I continued in a low voice, "I'll bet you are Lorie's boyfriend."

He smiled and asked, "How would you know that?"

I replied, "Oh, you just look like the other half of a lovely young couple." He didn't know that I had never seen Lorie in person.

He smiled and said, "Thank you, Ma'am."

I said, "Please call me Lynda. I hate being called Ma'am. It makes me feel old."

He continued, "Lynda then. He hesitated and then said, "If you need anything, my name works like magic around here." Then he whispered, "My dad owns the place." He went on, "My friends call me Ronny."

I said, "Ronny."

He smiled, bowed slightly, turned, and disappeared back into his inner sanctum. I think he had left a video game on pause.

I watched him go until the girl behind the desk drew my attention. She had to be in her late teens and was as cute as a button. She said, "My name is Jenny." Her nametag said, Jennifer. She handed me a key. It had a small tag with a number on it. She said, "This is for one of our finest third-floor rooms. It has a king-size bed and a view of downtown." She whispered, "That's all we have to look at around here." Then she asked, "Will you need more than just the one key?"

I said, "No, I don't think so."

She said, "Well, the locks in this old building are tricky. Some of our guests lock themselves out of their rooms with the key inside. If that happens to you, we have another one here." Then she asked, "Will you please spell your name for me."

I spelled out Lynda Carter.

She looked up and asked with surprise in her voice, "Are you Wonder Woman?"

I laughed and said, "No, Jenny. I'm not that old." She thought she had offended me. I put her at ease as best I could. I said, "I do have the same name and people make that mistake all the time." Then I added, "People say I look a lot like her too."

She smiled and said, "I didn't mean to seem fresh. I hope you have a nice stay with us."

I asked, "Is that all."

She said, "Oh, No. I'm supposed to tell you that the room will be seventy-six dollars per night. That includes everything except gratuities." She said, "Johnny will carry your luggage and show you to your room."

I said, "Is there no paperwork?"

She said, "I already filled it out."

She showed it to me. It was a check-in form. It had my fake name at the top, the room number, and a note that said, "Cash on departure as per Ronny."

She said, "Ms. Carter, Please excuse me. I get nervous when I serve Rotterdam family members."

I smiled and whispered to her, "My name is Lynda and I'm not family, Jenny."

She looked surprised. She said, "Oh, I thought you were. Ronny took such an interest in you." Then she said, "Well, I filled out the paperwork anyway."

I said, "Thank you, Sweetheart." We shared a smile and I walked away with Johnny. I thought, "I didn't even get to use my fake ID. I like this place and the people are nice just like Lorie said." I thought, "Jenny is something of an airhead, but she is pretty enough to get away with it and she will grow out of it." I thought, "She reminds me of me when I was her age."

My room was nice too. It was much bigger than I thought it would be. It was furnished and decorated in very good taste and it was full of natural light. It had French doors that led out to an exterior balcony. I could tell that the room had been refurbished and redecorated in the not-so-distant past. It was a nice mix. The building had to be a hundred years old.

I flopped down on the bed and let myself relax for a few minutes. I thought, "Here you are, Girl. You are checked into a nice hotel with a bar and a pool and no one knows who you are." Then I said to myself, "You are going to have to make a decision pretty soon. Are you going through with this?"

I got up, walked over to the French doors, and opened one of them. I stepped out onto the balcony. The air was warm and there was virtually no wind. I looked out toward the horizon. There it was, spread out before me, beautiful downtown Parkersville. I remembered what Jenny had said and laughed.

I heard a splash and the sounds of children laughing and playing. I leaned on the balcony rail and looked down. I was directly over the swimming pool's deep end. It was an artistically shaped pool with curves and coves described in its edges. There were two diving boards almost right under me. Neither was very high. The shallow end had a separate small pool that appeared to be a kiddie's wading pool. Three small children were playing in it.

There were some tables with umbrellas scattered around. Three of them seemed to be occupied, but I couldn't see through the umbrellas. Five of the lounge chairs were occupied. Two couples were using four of them. A man that appeared to be alone sat in the fifth one, but he was on the other side of the pool. Two younger men were in the water. I did a quick recount. Five men and only two women were in view. I thought, "Those are good odds."

I thought, "Decision time, Belinda." I decided to go down there. It was a very nice day. I could sunbathe and swim if I chose. I put off the real decision again. I thought, "I don't have to let myself get picked up."

Then I thought, "What shall I wear." I checked out the other women. They were both wearing comparatively conservative Bikinis. Mine was a bit more risqué, but the decision was made. I wasn't going to be the only one wearing a one-piece."

I looked at the three single men. The two in the pool seemed far too energetic. They may have been in their late teens, too young for me. The man in the lounge chair was my age or maybe a bit older. He had a drink beside him and a laptop in his lap. He might have been working. I chose him to be the most interesting man there.

I was three stories up and I don't think anyone had noticed me. Three stories are only thirty feet. I could see him very well. He was well built and had all his hair, but I couldn't see his face from this angle. In my mind, I became an eagle on her perch in the process of selecting her prey. I made that decision easily.

I ran quickly through the shower to rinse off the trail dust. I managed to keep my hair dry. I shook it out, gave it a good brushing, and put it up in my high ponytail. That style makes me look younger.

I put my Bikini on and looked in the tall mirror. I thought, "Damn, you look good." I said aloud, "If Bobby finds out he will kill you, Girl." I still don't know why, but I kept my rings on.

I had to decide on shoes. I thought, "Flip-flops will say, "I'm going to spend some time at the pool." Heels will say, "Catch me if you can." I chose my natural leather two inch heeled sandals. They accented the muscles in my legs much better than flip-flops and they made me taller.

I put a light wrap on that reached from my shoulders to about four inches above my knees. I wore it closed to start with. I grabbed a big, white, fluffy towel from the bathroom. I made sure my key was in my pool bag and went down.

I stepped out onto the apron and took a few seconds to survey the scene before me. Nothing had changed, but I was looking from a different perspective. My chosen prey was sitting with his back to me. I opened my wrap so my flat belly would be on display. He was sitting in the far right lounge chair in a line of four. I chose the chair that was second from the left. That was close enough to say I am open for conversation yet far enough away that I didn't invade his space.

I walked up to that chair and asked, "Is it okay if I sit here? He looked up to acknowledge my presence. He smiled. I got a shot of adrenalin. Butterflies exploded in my tummy. My Kegel muscles flexed and a mighty tingle tickled me deep inside. His face was that of a beautiful man in his prime. I guessed him to be forty-three or maybe a year or two older.

His eyes were steel grey and they flashed in the sunlight. He displayed a mouth full of straight white teeth that seemed to glow in contrast to his tanned skin. His hair was a light sandy color and there was a wisp of grey blended into it at the temples. He had a full mustache and a heavy goatee that surrounded his mouth and covered his chin. I wondered. I had never kissed a man with facial hair beyond Bobby's occasional two-day stubble.

He said, "Sure, have a seat." I saw him take a second or two to give me a once over. I took my wrap off and he looked at me again, but didn't say anything. He went back to his computer. I spread my towel over my chair, sat down, and laid back. I rubbed some sun blocker lotion on my skin that I could reach easily.

Ten minutes went by with no further interaction.

One of the younger men in the pool swam up, rested his crossed arms on the edge of the pool, and then rested his chin on them. He was older than I had thought, mid-twenties, maybe. I still considered him too young for me. He was three feet in front of my feet and staring straight up at the little patch of cloth that covered my pussy. He said, "Hey, pretty lady, why don't you jump in here and play with me." He was forward and inept to the point of being brash.

I wasn't that offended, but I acted as if I was. I waved my rings at him and said, "Oh, I would love to, but that would upset hubby terribly."

The man next to me looked up first at me and then he locked eyes with the young man. An evil and threatening look came over his face. I thought, "He is playing the role of my angry husband." I giggled inside.

The young man threw his hands up and stepped back from the pool's edge. He said, "No offense, I didn't know." He turned and swam away toward deeper water.

I hesitated a second and turned to the man beside me. I said, "Thank you and I am Lynda by the way, Lynda Carter."

He smiled and replied, "Bret Watson here and you are welcome." He said, "It was nothing, he is just a boy." He stuck his nose back into the computer.

Another ten minutes went by. I had decided that he just wasn't going to flirt with me. I was about to ask him to rub some sun blocker on my back. My skin is so light that I do burn before I tan. I had enjoyed short exposures to the sun all summer and through the fall, but my skin was still milky white.

Without warning, he said, "I'm going to the bar for another drink. May I bring you something?"

My butterflies came back. I thought, "Here we go." I answered, "Oh, would you? I would love a glass of lemonade."

He replied, "Alcohol is available if you would like something stronger."

I replied, "I do drink on occasion but not before five. I have a very low tolerance to booze and I lose all my inhibitions after two drinks. I have to be very careful and especially when I am away from home." I paused for a second. I smiled at him and looked into his eyes. I said, "Sometimes I allow myself to have three." His eyes twinkled and he smiled. He had understood what I had just told him.

He said, "Well, I'll be right back." He slipped his feet into his sandals and draped his towel over a shoulder. He smiled at me again and said, "Watch my stuff for me." He walked away. What I watched was his ass.

I thought, "This one fits the bill." Then I thought, "You don't have to do this. You can still chicken out." I lay there with my eyes closed and let my mind's eye watch him walk away again. I watched as his muscles moved in concert as they carried his large frame.

I hadn't noticed how big he was until he stood up. I knew he was big, but he was bigger than Bobby. I thought, "He is much bigger. Bobby is six feet and two inches tall. Bret has to be six, five. He must be fifty pounds heavier than bobby and he wasn't carrying any fat." I thought, "This won't happen if you don't quit thinking about Bobby." I tried to push Bobby out of my mind. It wasn't too difficult. Bret was back.