Betsy - Reawakened Ch. 06

"If we would have had one, I wouldn't have been able to do what I did last night."

It was the first time she had even acknowledged the previous night's activities, save the mentioning of the wine bottle that was now was for some reason a decorative vase on their kitchen windowsill overlooking the yard. But she wasn't forthcoming with anything more, and that frustrated him. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask. He wasn't sure if he wasn't. All he had to go on was his gut, and it was tied up in knots.

All he could think to ask was, "Why the Watergate?"

"It's been in the paper every day because of that break-in."

"The break-in wasn't at the hotel, Bets. It was in the office complex that's next to it."

"I'm well aware of the details, Darren. I read the paper every day. Remember, there's more to me than just a pretty face. Like I said, it's in the paper every day, and it makes me think of something dirty."

"What does that mean?"

"The break-in was obviously something nefarious. They didn't break into a house, or a business. It was the DNC. I know it only just happened, but I think they're just scratching the surface of what it's all about," she said in a moment of prophecy. She had no clue it would turn into what it did; the biggest political scandal in American history. But she read between the lines of the articles better than most, and she knew it was more than just a simple breaking and entering charge for the five men who'd been caught in the middle of the night. It was much more than that.

Darren knew he wasn't up to the details like she was. Her comment about being more than a pretty face was a common refrain in their marriage; a constant reminder that she had a college degree, and she was using that advanced education to clean the house and run the kids around to various places. She wasn't complaining, but she also wasn't going to accept anything close to a condescending remark from her husband.

He hadn't meant it that way. He was more confused by the shape the entire weekend was taking on. He hadn't come to grips with what happened the night before, mainly because she wasn't talking about it. Instead she had seemingly moved on in her mind to the next thing; to what she had been fantasizing about for days.

He didn't read every article in the Washington Post like she seemed to. A lot of that had to do with his bi-weekly traveling schedule. With him being gone every other week, he didn't read the paper as often as she did. And he certainly didn't go back and read papers that were days old because he wasn't home to read them the day they were delivered. He did watch the evening news whenever he could while away from home, but they weren't reporting yet on what was still considered a local story. Whatever information he'd gleaned had come from the Post, but he wasn't as enlightened about the subject as she was.

"If you say so Betsy... how expensive is this place?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, no. I guess not."

"Good. I'd hate to think you're out splurging on your customers all the time, and you can't do that on me."

"What do you mean splurging on my customers?"

"You spend money on them, don't you?"

"I don't. The company does."

"Well who decides what customers get splurged on? Is that the company, or is that you?"

"It's me, of course. But I don't understand what that has to do with it. It's not my money."

"Does your company pay you a salary?"

"HA! Well, yeah. You know that."

"And do you do such a great job for them as a district manager that they give you a big bonus each year?"

"Yes, Betsy. What's your point? What's with the inquisition?"

"It just seems to me that you have the power of autonomy in your job. You decide who you spend money on, and you decide what you spend it on. Whether that's dining, or golfing, or entertainment, or what have you. You're the one that says that that particular customer is only worthy of a box of donuts, but this one deserves dinner in a fancy restaurant. You decide that one customer is so good, you're going to take him to one of the best golf resorts in Virginia, but this one over here is hopefully going to be even better. So for him, you're going to pay for his hotel room in your hometown, take him to dinner, and then you're going to have your wife sleep with him in hopes he'll sign a three-year contract and make him your biggest customer ever."

"Betsy, it doesn't work that way. It... wait, what did you just say?"

"What part?" she shrugged.

"The last part, about Sam?"

"I never mentioned Sam. I was simply citing hypothetical examples. By the way, did you pay for Sam's room last night?"

"Uh... yeah," he said slowly, trying to process what she'd just revealed.

"Interesting. And here I thought it was just a coincidence he was staying in town on his way through to North Carolina. And I imagine you bought his dinner too, right?"

"Betsy... I'm not sure what you're insinuating here, but..."

"... I'm insinuating that you do a great job for the company, and because of that, they pay you that huge bonus we use every year to go on our naughty vacation. But I'm sure there's some left over for you to indulge those same naughty whims of mine and pay for us to stay at the Watergate."

He let the moment slide, still unsure of what she was getting at regarding her comment about Sam and the new contract. Instead, he focused on the immediate. "I don't know anything about the hotel, Bets."

"What's to know? It's a hotel. If it turns out to be a bad choice, so be it. Do you know where it is?"

"Actually, it's just down this street," he said, making a left, driving back toward the eastern bank of the Potomac along which the complex bordered.

He parked the car so he could go into the lobby, unsure if they'd even have a room. As he opened the door, his left foot making contact with the pavement, she asked, "By the way, are you paying for Sam's room when he comes back in a couple of weeks?"

He looked over his shoulder, his right hand still holding the steering wheel. Squinting, he wondered, "What are you talking about?"

"When Sam comes back through from visiting his parents. Are you picking up the tab on his stay that time too?"

"Why would he drive back through? That's way out of his way heading back north."

"It is?"

"Of course. He wouldn't take I-81. He's from New York. He'd take I-95."

"Huh?" she smiled.

"What?"

"I just think it's so sweet that he's going to be going so far out of his way just to see me again."

"See you?"

"Well, I think after last night we both know he'll be doing more than just seeing me, now don't we?" she giggled.

"Betsy, are you serious?"

"I'm as serious as that big boner in your pants right now. Why don't you go get us a room so I can make that thing go down? I'd hate for you to make all the other men at the theater jealous as soon as we walk in."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He wasn't sure if she was serious or not. At that point, all he had was a lot of questions and a rock-hard cock. It was a bit nerve wracking to be walking into a high-class hotel in that state of arousal, but he really didn't care. He marched up to the desk and asked if they had any rooms available. Told that they had several options, he asked for one on a high floor, overlooking the river. Her comment about splurging had registered with him. She wasn't wrong. It was just the two of them. She deserved to be pampered a little bit. After all, making her happy was only going to make their weekend getaway better.

It certainly got off to an incredible start. A short time after being handed a room key, he had Betsy on her back on an inexplicably big bed, the top of her dress pulled down like she'd done it the night before for Sam. The bottom was again lifted up to give her husband access, and just like Sam, he was still in his slacks and shirt, his hard prick buried deep inside her juicy cunt as he pounded away as hard as he could.

She was staring at the ceiling, marveling at how different it looked from the one she'd been in the night before. As posh as the Excelsior Inn was for their town, it seemed more like the fleabag variety she'd imagined being used in when compared to the room she was in now. It seemed a bit strange that that was what she was busy comparing. It never dawned on her to do that with the men she was fucking. She didn't care about that. All she cared about was cumming, and her orgasm was about to arrive. So was Darren's.

Hooking her knees with his arms, he rolled her onto her shoulders, just his shoes pressing into the mattress. She could only imagine how loud the slapping sound would have been against her ass if he'd bothered to remove his pants. Instead, there was just his steady grunting in rhythm with each thrust, followed by her responsive gasp. She was biting into his shoulder to keep quiet, something she hadn't bothered to do the night before.

She came, her squeals of pleasure rising with her climax. He fell into her, his cock bursting as he held his shaft as deep as he could. The enormity of his load startled her, even though she should have been used to it after being married to him all those years.

"God, you cum so much more than Sam," she panted as they lay together, her fingers running through his hair. It was her first real acknowledgement of what she'd done the night before, and for the first time, she'd compared them.

His fingers were dancing along the crack of her ass. Finally feeling the courage to ask one of his thousand questions, he went with the least direct. "Care to tell me about it?"

"No," she answered, kissing his neck.

"No?"

"I might someday, Darren. But that was yesterday. I'm here today for a reason, and I don't want to chicken out. Now that we've both worked off the sexual tension you've been creating all morning, I want to go to the theater."

"Now?"

She rolled him off of her, moving deftly off the bed. In seconds, her dress was back to the way it was when they'd first arrived, although there was yet another wet spot that had formed inside the back near her ass. Tousling her hair, she shook her head back and forth to make it look more presentable, before moving her breasts around in the front to create the proper cleavage she was looking for.

She took one more moment to apply some lipstick, leaning in toward a mirror, her ass jutting out for him. Then she picked up her clutch, tucking the cartridge inside as turned toward him.

"Now, please," she grinned excitedly.

She nixed the idea of taking their car. After all, he was the one that stated the movie house wasn't in the best of neighborhoods. It wasn't necessarily dangerous; it was more along the lines of seedy than anything else. But it wasn't someplace she thought would be wise to park his company car. Instead they took a cab, much to his amazement.

It was a bit of a shock for the cab driver as well. Betsy sat in silence as Darren gave the address. The driver actually looked over his shoulder, a wry smile appearing. Turning around, he flipped the switch on the meter and put the car in drive.

"You got it," he said with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

When he'd stopped his cab in front of the hotel, his fare standing along the curb, he never would have imagined that would be the destination. They were a striking couple in his eyes. At first appearance, she was dressed more for an evening at the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts that had opened just down the street from the hotel a year before. And while Darren wasn't dressed as formally, his button-down shirt and dress slacks were more suited for someplace much more respectable than an adult movie.

While he didn't know exactly where they were going, the cabbie recognized the street, and the neighborhood. There was nothing there to speak of except establishments of an adult nature. Along with the movie house, there were several adult shops, along with a couple gentleman clubs that featured scantily dressed dancers. They weren't strip clubs, as there was no nudity, but the girls wore extremely skimpy bikinis. Still, for the time, it was fairly unique for entertainment within the District.

As they approached the location, the driver's curiosity piqued and he asked the question that had been on his mind since they left the hotel. "So, where exactly are you folks headed?"

Betsy nudged Darren's thigh as she stared out the side window, letting him know that while she had no intention of answering the driver's questions, she expected her husband to.

"We're going to a movie," he replied, hoping to appear relaxed even though his insides where churning.

"A movie? Oh... okay," he chuckled. "Yeah, I've heard about that one."

Peering to his left, he saw the reflection of his wife's smile in the window, and it gave him a burst of courage. "So has my wife. She wants to see it."

"She does?"

Betsy turned her head, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror. She still didn't speak, but she nodded, the same sweet smile etched permanently on her angelic face. Darren spoke for her, saying, "She's looking at it as an educational film... more of a tutorial than a skin flick."

"Interesting. How are you looking at it?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know when we're done."

"How will you do that?"

"Because, you're going to come back to pick us up at eight."

He laughed as he pulled over to the curb directly in front of the theater. "I am?"

"There's an extra fifty in it for you if you do."

"Well I guess I'll see you at eight then," he nodded. "Enjoy your evening. I hope you find the knowledge you're looking for, Miss."

"Me too," she replied excitedly as she took her husband's hand to exit the cab.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"And here I thought the back of the cab was nasty," Betsy whispered, her eyes adjusting to the dark.

In truth the taxi wasn't that bad. It smelled a bit, but the floor and seats were relatively clean. The theater was a different story. If she thought the hotel room she'd left Sam in that morning smelled of sex, it had nothing on the dingy room she was now standing in.

It was evident that at one time, the theater had been a showcase. But over the years, it became as rundown as the neighborhood, a symbol of a forgotten time. Single screen theaters had been replaced by the modern multiplex, where viewing options outweighed atmosphere. Unable to sustain itself as a viable outlet for major motion pictures any longer, the owner obviously turned to a different type of cinema in hopes of keeping the business alive.

The filthy carpet of the aisle matched that of the lobby; a matted maroon and gold velour that had at one time been plush, now well-worn and stained. The cushioning on the black leather seats were cracked and scarred, although the metal framework was still in remarkably good shape. The tapestries along the walls were tattered and faded; the intricate molding in dire need of scraping and painting. Yet it was the smell of the room that caught one's attention.

There was the musty smell of the old building itself that hid in the background; a solid base on which everything else that assaulted the nose was built upon. There was the distinct reek of body odor, a tangy mixture of sweat and stench hanging in the air. There was also the hint of ammonia, no doubt from urine, but that was faint compared to the unmistakable musky aroma dominating the senses. The overriding scent of the confines was semen, and it was strong... and seemingly fresh.

Betsy took in a deep breath, her smile widening. "It smells like lecherous old men," she remarked happily. "It's like a locker room for perverts."

"It does linger, doesn't it," Darren stated, the whiff he'd gotten as soon as they walked around the corner nearly staggering him.

"I love it."

"You do?"

"I love sex, Darren. This place feels like sex. Raw, nasty sex," she answered honestly, to which he arched an eyebrow, his smirk making her smile brightly.

Indeed, that unmistakable aroma was the most illuminating feature in the room. The house lights were permanently dimmed, but they could see well enough to tell there were about two dozen people scattered throughout the place. They were seated strategically; each man... and they were all men, purposefully giving themselves privacy. No two sat in the same row, nor were any of them near each other in separate rows. That didn't surprise either of them as they scanned the room for a place to watch the movie.

She could suddenly feel the eyes on her as she followed Darren's lead, her hand clutching the crook of his elbow as they moved down the center aisle. They found a place about ten rows from the back on the right side facing the screen, Betsy insisting she sit on the aisle seat. Darren was a bit concerned, wanting her to the inside so he could protect her if needed, but she assured him everything would be fine.

Fortunately, the projector started as soon as they sat down. Unfortunately for Betsy, she had to wait. The movie she wanted to see was the main one being featured, but with the genre they were showing, it was but one of many others they would show during the day. They ran movies almost constantly. It was by pure chance that they walked in during one of the ten-minute breaks they'd have every three hours.

Once the film started, she quickly realized it wasn't the one she'd been looking forward to for the better part of her week. "This isn't Deep Throat," she whispered to Darren.

"The sign in the lobby said they show it every three hours. It won't start again until six."

"That's two hours from now," she whined.

"Sorry, sweetie. There's not a lot I can do about it."

Resting her head on his shoulder, she became resigned to the reality of the situation. "I know."

It was midway through the second movie when Darren felt her hand on his lap, feeling for his erection. It was hard for him not to be hard. After all, the scenes on the big screen all being sexually explicit played to men's inner desires. Plus, Betsy was commenting quietly on what they watched.

She wanted to know if he found specific girls hot, teasing him about his reaction to women that were against his 'type', knowing he was turned on by them because of what they were doing on screen. She wondered aloud if he found things that were happening exciting, knowing he did. She caught him off guard when she asked him if he ever fucked a woman in a public place before, the girl on the screen riding a big cock in a park. When she told him she would be up for something like that with him as long as it wasn't in their town, she felt his member jerk in reaction.

But more of a shock was when there was an orgy scene playing out; over a dozen naked bodies intertwined in sexual action. "Mmm... it's been a long time since I've been to one of those parties," she cooed.

"What?"

She giggled at his reaction. "I take it you've never been to an orgy."

"And you have?"

"I can't tell you the details, but yes, once or twice in -"

"College," he said with a resigned sigh.

Kissing his cheek, she nodded. "Yes, sweetie, in college."

"Doesn't what we do on our vacations count?"

"It's close. But Rob can't fuck Carrie, so that takes a bit of the unpredictability away from it."

"She's sucked him. He's eaten her," he said, reminding her of the incestuous actions of the brother and sister in their small circle of friends.

"True, but they don't do that often."

"Yes, they do... at least three times every year, as a matter of fact."

"Okay, you're right. But I still wouldn't call what we've done with them an orgy." Pointing at the screen, she grinned. "That's an orgy."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it."

Pulling down his zipper, she reached inside, feeling the hot flesh of his raging cock. "You never know, sweetie. Things seem to be changing pretty quickly in our marriage. If you wanted to do one, I'd be game."