Betsy - Reawakened Ch. 15

"What question is that?"

"Did you enjoy having sex with me?"

She sighed again. It was light, accompanied by a bashful smile. "Yes. Very, very much."

"Is it something that you'd like to experience more often?"

"Yes. But I'm not sure I'd be comfortable initiating anything."

"You won't have to. Almost all the time, I'm the aggressive one when it comes to being with another woman."

"Hard to believe you're the aggressive type after watching you with Darren last night."

"Oh, I can be aggressive with him as well, but he usually, you know... someone has to lead the dance."

"So you're inviting me to the dance?" she teased.

Betsy saw the flash in her eyes. Knowing it was still rather early, and Neil was likely still sleeping, it seemed worth the risk to make her point. She launched herself at Elaine, catching her off guard.

Elaine gasped wildly as Betsy climbed on top of her. She was about to scream out, but it was stifled by Betsy's tongue searching her mouth. They hadn't kissed the day before, and the touch of another woman's lips against hers was foreign to her. It was also a huge turn on.

Indeed, Betsy had been honest with her. The kiss was possessive, consuming her. She reeled back as Betsy took her to the ground totally. She felt a hand on her breast, moving underneath her top. Then the front was pulled to the side, exposing it so she could freely play with her nipple.

Betsy forced Elaine's thighs apart with the strength of her knees. Elaine held them there for her as she expected her young lover to move down and tongue her like she had the day before. She suddenly longed for the talented appendage exploring her mouth to do the same to her pussy.

Instead Betsy moved to her left, hooking her leg inside Elaine's right, making sure she had access. Her right hand slipped down, pulling at the material covering Elaine's dripping cunt, sliding it to the side.

"Oh God," Elaine shivered as she felt two fingers sliding quickly inside her velvet passage. The invasion was sudden and swift, Betsy's wrist cocking quickly. She began fucking her with her digits as fast as she could, the wet squishing sounds stunning the woman it was happening to.

It didn't take long. Less than five minutes from the time Betsy first lunged in her direction, Elaine erupted, her body convulsing as she came. If not for the fact that Betsy had been kissing her the entire time, the scream that Elaine would have unleashed would have surely woken up Neil. And anyone else still slumbering in the neighborhood.

Betsy stood, licking her fingers sexily as she loomed over Elaine like a conquest. She was lying there, desperately hoping to find her lungs so she could breathe again. One breast was out. Her legs were splayed open; her pussy still exposed and dripping.

"I'm going to assume you want to continue this going forward," Betsy stated, her voice confident; almost cocky.

"God... that... that happened so fast!"

"You're welcome. I'm going to talk to Darren. I want to alter our rules totally for you and Tim."

"Wh... what do you mean?"

"I want it to be like we already discussed. But I want to change the part involving you and me."

"I... I'm not following."

"When Darren's home, I'm sure our focus is going to be on the men. More importantly, we want their focus on us. The only way we're going to get fucked is if they initiate it. It might take a few blowjobs on our part to prove we're serious, but they'll get the hint eventually. As far as you and I are concerned, I think we should only be allowed to play when Darren's away. It'll keep me focused on my priorities, but also give me an outlet to help me do that. I'll let you know what he thinks."

"Oh... okay."

"I should be going. We've got a big day ahead of us," she said as she picked up her towel.

"Are you sure you don't want me to, you know...."

"I'm fine. Thanks though. We'll talk more tomorrow. Love you."

"I love you too, Betsy. Have fun today. And tell Neil I know he'll do great!"

"I will. Bye!"

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

Betsy was stunned when she walked into the kitchen. Neil was already sitting at the dinette table, dressed and ready to go. There was a bowl of cereal in front of him, barely touched, the milk already poured. Next to it was a plate of toast, the two slices of bread cut in half. One piece had two bites taken out of it.

What shocked her more was he was holding the phone, the cord stretched across the room. He wasn't talking on it. He was just holding it out. And he was tearing up.

"Oh my God! Neil! What's wrong!?"

"He called me, mom," he said, starting to cry some more. "I... I can't believe he called me."

"Who? Your father?" He shook his head into her chest as she came to him, offering a consoling hug even though she didn't know what was wrong. Trying to think of who it could be, and that it would make him so emotional, she had a sudden fear that their day might have been altered. "Was it Mr. Sampson?" she asked, hoping Joel hadn't called to cancel. If that were the case she might start crying herself.

"No," Neil replied, hugging her tightly.

"Then who was it sweetie? What's wrong?"

She squatted down, holding his shoulders to get him to look her in the eyes. He wiped his with the back of his hand, finding his voice.

"Gene," he exhaled.

"Your brother called you?"

"Yeah. He told me to relax and play smart. He wants me to think about the shot before I hit it. He said to picture it in my mind."

"Your brother... called you," she repeated. The shock was obvious. Gene had never done that before. She knew Darren had told him about the lessons, and obviously at some point he also must have relayed the fact that Joel was taking him out for a round. But for Gene to actually call was huge.

"Yeah. He told me not to get upset like he used to when he made a bad shot. He told me to just do better on the next one. And to have fun. He wants me to call him tonight so we can talk about how I did. Can I mom?"

"Of course sweetie. Of course!"

"I can't believe he called me to wish me luck."

"Me either," she admitted, her heart melting.

"Do you know what else he said?"

"No sweetie. Tell me," she said as she took the phone, hanging it up. She then moved to the table, taking the bowl and plate to the sink.

"What are you doing, mom?"

"Your toast is cold and your cereal is soggy."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You made your own breakfast and you got distracted by Gene calling. I would have done the same thing. Have a seat," she said as she dropped two slices of bread into the toaster and pressed the lever. Pouring him another bowl of cereal, she tousled his hair and said, "Stop keeping me in suspense. What else did you brother say?"

"Oh. Yeah. He said he's coming home week after next to play in the club championship."

"I know," she smiled.

"But he said that because I'm doing good, he's going to sign us up to play in the alternate shot tournament. He wants me to be his partner."

"That's for teams of men and women, sweetie," she replied.

It wasn't a tournament as much it was a nine hole round of golf. It was really a ruse to make husband's play golf with their wives during the week the club celebrated the game. But they handed out trophies, so she had to admit it was a contest of some type.

"So you know about it?" Neil asked.

"The tournament? Yes. Your father wants me to play with him. I told him I don't think I'm ready."

"Does that mean I'm not ready?" Neil wondered. She could see the disappointment already appearing on his face. His logic made sense. They'd been getting lessons together, and progressing. If she was doubting her abilities, it was natural that her statement would make Neil doubt his.

"I don't mean it like that, sweetie. I'm just not as confident as you are."

"You'll do great."

"Thanks. But I'm not sure why Gene would get your hopes up. Like I said, it's for couples."

"He said he called Mr. Sampson and asked how I was doing. Then he asked about opening the tournament up to allow junior golfers to play with an adult. Mr. Sampson said it was a great idea to grow the game. I guess that's why they do the tournaments. To get as many people playing as possible. Mr. Sampson told him he can sign us up if I do well today."

"Oh, Neil. That's a lot of pressure to be putting yourself under. I just want you to have fun today."

"Gene said it's not about my score. I have to do well with... what's that word? Et.. etty?

"Etiquette," she laughed.

"Yeah. That. I can't run, or yell, or walk where I'm not supposed to. All the things Dad taught me. If I do that, can I play with Gene?"

"Absolutely, Neil," she said as she slid a plate of hot buttered toast in front of him. "Now eat up. We leave in half an hour. I'm going to go get ready."

"Okay," he said excitedly. "Mom?"

"Yes?" she said, stopping and turning around.

"Where were you?"

"I've started doing yoga early in the morning with Mrs. Caper next door."

"What's yoga?"

"It's kind of an exercise routine. It's about stretching, and bending. When we get older, we have to do things to keep us feeling young. That's why I'm wearing this," she said of her skimpy orange bikini. "It's easier to move in."

"It's working," he shrugged as he took a spoonful of cereal, shoveling it into her mouth.

"What?"

"You've always looked young to me. And my friends."

"What!?"

"Compared to their moms, you look a lot younger... even though you always say you're older than them. That must be why."

She raced over to him, bending over to give him a big hug.

It was his turn to say, "What?"

"You just made my day, Neil. You just made my whole day!" she sighed as she kissed the top of his head.

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

Betsy and Neil were actually singing to the radio together. They were heading down the highway with the windows down and the music cranked up high. Don McLean's American Pie was playing, and Betsy knew the words as well as Neil. She began singing, and she encouraged him to start singing along with her.

He was surprised when she came back from her bedroom carrying their beach bag, still wearing the bikini she'd had on when she came into the house.

"Is that what you're wearing?" he asked.

"Ha! You sound like your father."

"What?"

"Word to the wise, young Mr. Thomas. Never critique the clothing choice of a woman."

"What?"

"If you can tell that a woman feels pretty in what she's wearing, just tell her she looks pretty. Don't worry about what she's wearing and why."

"Oh. Okay. You look very pretty, mom."

"Thank you, sweetie."

"It's still weird, though."

"Why? You've worn your swimsuit when I've dropped you off before."

"Yeah. You're right."

"I'm going straight to the pool. We're going to make sure you're set in the clubhouse, and then off you go."

Fifteen minutes later she was driving barefoot, stylish sunglasses on, her long auburn hair blowing in the breeze from the open windows as she and her youngest sang together. It was a memory in the making, and her heart was soaring.

She had to turn down the volume when they pulled onto the long, winding road that led to the country club. Neil was starting to bounce in his seat, and she put her hand on his thigh.

"Calm down, Neil. You need to keep yourself in control if you want to play well."

"Okay," he nodded.

She found a space near the tennis courts. It wasn't crowded at the club yet. The tennis courts were only busy during the evening and on weekends. The golf course had a few early morning seniors that were already out playing. Being Friday, there would be some people that would leave work early to get a round in, wanting to get their weekend off to a fun start, but they usually wouldn't show up until between three and four. The middle of the day during the workweek, not that many people were on the course. The busiest part of the facility during the day in the summer was the pool. But that crowd didn't generally show up for another hour or so, when it started to warm up.

Betsy threw her sandals onto the blacktop and slipped them on. She made her way to the back of the station wagon, and opened the door down like a tailgate. Neil sat on it, then turned to crawl a bit. He dragged his golf bag toward the back, and then climbed out. Putting the bag on his shoulder, he waited for his mother, who was ready with a camera.

"Smile," she winked. He did, loving that she was excited for him.

She put the camera in her glovebox and met him in back. He'd already closed the door. She walked with him to the clubhouse, and he got visibly nervous.

"It's okay, Neil. You're a member. You belong here."

"I've never gone in there as a golfer before. Dad just took me onto the course. This seems more official."

"It is. But don't be nervous. Come see."

She showed him the bag rack, telling him to lean his into one of the spots. It looked small for the space, which it was. But he'd seen other bags there many times. It gave him his first moment of authenticity.

His second came when she took him to the counter in the pro shop just inside the door. There on the countertop was the register book. She pointed to the 9:00 AM tee time. Under the number of players, there was written the number two. Next to that were the neatly printed names; Joel Sampson, and underneath that, Neil Thomas. Joel had already signed his name next to his. Next to that was a checkmark on the column designating he was a member. Next to that, was a number. Seven.

"What's that?"

"Mr. Sampson has gotten a cart for the two of you. That's the cart number he was given."

She handed Neil the pen that was chained to the desktop. "Sign your name there. That proves you showed up to play. Then put a check on the column that says you're a member."

"Okay," he grinned.

"Hello. Who have we here?" said the voice behind the counter.

Betsy stood, her breasts bouncing in her bright orange bikini top. "Hi Margaret. Neil has a nine o'clock tee time."

"Uh, Betsy... "

"Yes?"

"You're supposed to wear golf attire."

"I'm not golfing. Neil is. I'm going to the pool."

"I... I thought I saw your name on the daily sheet."

"You probably did. I'm playing with Joel at one this afternoon."

"Still, this is the clubhouse."

"Are you kidding me? I've seen people wear bathing suits in here before. I've seen people wear them to eat in the dining room."

"A one-piece. That's a bikini."

"My mom looks pretty," Neil said, defending her honor even though he didn't really understand.

"That's not the point, sweetie," Margaret replied.

"What is the point? That you can't wear one?" he asked, acting confused.

"This isn't the place for it?"

"I didn't mean you can't because you not supposed to. I meant that you can't because you wouldn't look good in one."

Betsy snorted, covering her smile. Margaret blushed, her mouth opening, but nothing coming out. She finally muttered something unintelligible and scurried away.

"Neil, you shouldn't have said that," she winked, letting him know she wasn't upset.

"Even if it's true?"

"Sometimes especially if it's true. If you can't say anything nice... "

"... don't say anything at all," he grumbled.

"That's right."

"I don't like that saying."

"You don't? How come?"

"Because what she was saying wasn't nice."

"I don't understand, sweetie."

"You told her you were going to the pool. You're not playing golf yet. You were just helping me. Besides, you told her other people wear swimsuits inside here all the time. That's hypocritical."

"Very good!"

"What?"

"Very good word choice. I'm proud of you. But I still don't understand what you're saying. She wasn't nice?"

"No, she wasn't. She tried to make you feel bad about what you're wearing. She was supposed to tell you you're pretty, but she was mean instead. If she's not going to say something nice to you, why do I have to say something nice to her. I don't like that rule."

"It's... complicated."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Well of course not."

"Good, because I'd do it again. I was right."

"That's why I love you, Neil. You are so much like your father."

She went about finishing checking him in, getting him a pencil and a couple of scorecards. She also handed him the free ball marker and divot repair tool they gave away.

Walking him outside, she told him to grab his bag. She walked with him to the grass at the edge of the parking lot, next to the cart path that led to the first tee.

Pointing to the practice green, she said, "Go hit a few putts to get used to the speed of the greens. But don't dawdle. You have ten minutes until you tee off. You need to give yourself time to loosen up. And you have to get your bag on the cart. Mr. Sampson will help you with that."

"Okay."

She bent down, and he thought she was going to give him one more pep talk. Instead, she kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Neil."

"For what?"

"For defending me inside. That was very brave if you."

"You're welcome."

"Have fun," she said as she turned to walk away."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"You do look pretty."

She smiled brightly. "Thanks, Neil. I love you."

"I love you too."

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

"Hi Mr. Sampson," Neil said as he walked confidently to the first tee.

Joel noticed his gait; the way his head was high, with his shoulders back. It was impressive. It was his father.

"Hello Neil. Looks like you've come ready to play."

"Yes sir," he smiled.

"Well c'mon. Let's get that bag on the cart."

Neil took a quick glance, checking the cart number. It was seven, just like the time sheet in the clubhouse noted. He wasn't sure why that fascinated him so much, but he loved the detail that went into the game. Even the parts that just led up to playing.

Joel had the cart parked next to the first tee, and he put Neil's golf bag in place. Neil had taken his driver out of his bag and was swinging it slowly, warming up. He already had a brand new Top Flight in his pocket, along with several tees. He was as ready as he was going to be.

It surprised him when a man walked out of the small shack with a clipboard in his hand. Neil had seen the building, but never knew what it was for.

"Is this the nine o'clock pairing?" the man asked.

Neil looked at Joel, who nodded to him. He turned back and swallowed hard. "Yes sir," he said, trying to be as confident as he was a moment before.

"Name?"

"Thomas. Neil Thomas."

"Good morning, Master Thomas. I'm Chris Concord. I'm your starter for today."

"Nice to meet you Mr. Concord," he said, putting out his hand.

Chris shook it, knowing it was Darren's son. The two men were more acquaintances than friends, but they had a friendly relationship. He could certainly see that Neil was off on the right track with the respect he showed. He knew not only to shake hands, but to look a man in the eyes while doing so. That said a lot about his character.

"Nice to meet you too. Now, let me see. Yes. The Thomas, Sampson twosome. You're going off next. There's a twosome two holes ahead. Next group after you isn't until 9:40. It should be smooth sailing. Carts on the paths around the greens. Please rake the traps, replace your divots and repair your ball marks. You shouldn't have to worry today, but let faster players play through. I'll announce you in two minutes."

"Thank you," Neil grinned.

"You're welcome, young man."

Neil walked back to Joel, a bit mystified. "Mr. Sampson?"

"Yes, Neil."

"Why did he call me Master?"

"Young men are called Master before they become misters."

"When does that happen?"

"When you turn eighteen."

"Oh. Okay."

"Are you ready to have some fun?"

"I think so. I just want to get better."

"That is the perfect attitude, Neil. I'm proud of you, and you haven't even hit a shot yet."