Would you trust me if I blindfolded you? Part deux

There was something oddly appealing to Betty about her driver, his silence wasn't empty but relaxing, his face was weathered and his scowl caused a squint, but she caught a sparkle in his eyes when his gaze shifted in her direction.  She suspected he had adopted the scowl many years ago for affect and it had stuck, but his eyes could not hide his sweet soul. 

By the time they reached The Hudson Hotel lobby Betty's dress was crumpled, her hair had still not dried and in the day's humidity, she wondered if it ever would, the air-conditioning in the lobby shocked her damp skin and caused her nipples to harden and protrude. The driver pointed to an area of low couches and told her to wait, he sauntered over to the reception. As she watched him comfortably talk to the lithe, androgynous receptionist, she began to form another opinion of her chauffeur, his clothes where scruffy and his face unshaven, but he wasn't cheap; his flip flops were dusty but leather they looked like nice quality although she couldn't make out the brand, his chinos looked soft and worn and his button down shirt which had seen better days was indeed tailored of fine cloth, perhaps Italian. The receptionist handed him a room key, she glanced over at Betty, he expression deadpan. Betty felt translucent, her gig was up, her curves more exaggerated in contrast to the skinny, stone faced bitch reading her mind, she faked a smile and joined her driver as he beckoned her to. 

Betty trusted Oliver, when all logic told her not to her gut told her otherwise, yet she didn't want her driver to leave, he opened the door to a large suite, comfortable leather chairs and wood paneled walls warmed the modern space. “I'm sorry I didn't think to bring money to tip you, what's your name?” He laughs and places the room key card on a table near the door “Enjoy your stay Miss.” 

Staring down at the pillow, Betty's mind wanders off to the pile of dirty dishes she left sitting in the sink, the coffee pot she left sitting on the hot plate and the wet clothes that never made it from the washer to the drier. She rolls over and sits up, kicks off her heels, pulls her knees toward her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. “How long are you planning on keeping me Oliver?” “You came of your own free will, you are free to leave anytime Betty.” His confidence is alluring, she uncouples her fingers and slides herself down the bed, her skirt riding up to her underwear she reaches her arms behind her head and grabs the pillow on each side, she turns her head to one side burying half  her face in the pillow, with her back gently arched she thrusts her pussy into the air, beckoning him to advance toward her. She makes a little groan, breathes in deeply the buttons on her dress pull tighter still. “You must have imagined me thinner?” She laughs. “I think my image of you was fairly accurate, undo some buttons Betty if the dress feels too tight.” One by one Betty unbuttons her dress until she reaches the sash tied loosely around her waist, she concentrates hard to untie the knot without appearing flustered and then continues undoing the rest of the buttons until the dress falls completely open.

“Betty, you are a thing of beauty” “Stop it” she says smiling, her right hand tucks in between her clenched thighs and her left hand wraps around her neck, her bent arm hiding her breasts. “When will you see yourself the way I see you?” Pleading with him, “I'm so turned on Oliver, when will you come join me?” Betty can only imagine how wet she would feel if she were to slide her finger between her labium, she resists the urge in the hope that Oliver will feel for himself this time. 

“Soon, first you have to get the door.” Her tummy flips at the idea he is outside the room a few feet away, then she hears the knock and although she is sure he has been watching her through a camera from another room she is now concerned again with her appearance. “Room service” a female voice is heard from outside saying, Betty's heart sinks “There is a robe in the closet by the door Betty” “I thought it was you at the door” she says pouting her lips. “Like I said, soon.” Betty grabs the robe from the closet and opens the door to a stunning young woman, with olive skin and gleaming long dark hair wearing a traditional maid's uniform, she smiles sweetly at Betty and confidently pushes the cart over to  a small round mahogany table. She places a champagne bucket containing a bottle of Rug, two champagne flutes (he wasn't kidding about having fine taste in beverages), a box of Valrohna chocolate truffles and a plate covered with a silver domed cover. May I open the bottle for you Mademoiselle? She says in a distinct French accent, she sounds as good as she looks. “And will there be anything else?” No thank you. Betty lifts off the plate cover and reveals a purple silk blind fold and a neatly wound length of red silk ribbon, she bursts out laughing. You are the sexiest man on earth. Would you trust me if I blindfolded you?” he asks with a chuckle. “Yes Oliver I would trust you.”

Betty picks up her champagne flute, she has had fine wine and good champagne but this was her first tate of Krug,  she takes a sip and lets the bubbles gently dance on her tongue, without warning Betty is jolted back to two days earlier when she had looked on the shelves at the Stop and Shop for Blue Mountain coffee that Oliver had spoken so highly of, silly Oliver she thought he got the wrong color mountain as she reached for a bag of Green Mountain house blend coffee off the shelf sitting close to the starbucks variety she usually bought. After making a pot later that day and thinking how it wasn't that special, she considered perhaps there is a Blue Mountain coffee afterall, maybe this was even a clue as to his hometown, could be a local coffee and sitting at her computer she googled it. YIKES! $125 for a bag of coffee! Reading this Betty came close to spitting the mouthful of green mountain out at the shock of it, she could not contain her laughter, the idea that a bag of coffee could cost $125, the idea that anyone would pay that and the idea that she thought he was color blind was altogether hilarious. And now sipping champagne she didn't dare to consider the value of, she was close once again to spraying the room with it, she quickly swallowed and then allowed herself to laugh out loud. “Betty, everything ok?” “Yes it's beautiful, I don't know why I'm laughing.” “How is the champagne?” “It's really lovely, you should come and have some with me.” “I will, take it to the bed and bring the blind fold with you.”  

Would you trust me if I blindfolded you?

“Would you trust me if I blind folded you?” sitting on the edge of the bed she quickly turned around to find his voice, “Where are you?” she asked nervously. “I'm here, I'm always here, when will you realize that?” “I can't see you though.” He laughs gently, not mocking her but with affection. She feels conscious of her appearance all of a sudden and looks down to find her dress has crept up above her knees, she hates her knees, who likes knees? She pulls the fabric over them and looks around again, a single rose lays neatly placed on the bed, she picks it up and smells it but feels silly in the cheesiness of it all. “A rose, a hotel suite, I hear your voice it sounds nice, but still I don't see you, show me yourself, who are you? “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” “What exactly does that mean?” she asks irritably “It means sweetness that, identifying myself to you doesn't change who I am, you look with your soul and you see me.” “Can you see me?”she asks, her voice is firmer now she is indignant. “I have always seen you sweet Betty.” She sighs and throws herself back on the bed surrendering to him, no matter what he asked of her she felt sure she would do as she always had, her arms out stretched now in a V behind her head, the top two buttons on the dress he had sent her for the occasion, (a size too small) were bursting open, she could feel him staring at her breasts and it made them tingle. She rolls herself onto her tummy, the skirt is twisted around her ample buttocks and her thighs are exposed, she wants him to see up her skirt, she wants him to spread her legs for her and touch the smooth inside of her thighs, a smile appears upon her face she looks over her shoulder flirting with the ghostly presence as she opens her legs to him, her knees bent, the four inch spiked heals wafting above her like like reeds gently blowing in a breeze. 

“Would you trust me if I blindfolded you?” He asks emphatically.  “Would you touch me and kiss my neck softly?” “Betty, sweet Betty, will you ever listen to me?” “I listen, what do you mean?” her voice is playful, she knows she hasn't answered the question, despite the fact she has guessed herself at least ten years his senior, she can not help but feel like a little girl in his company. “Betty, would you trust me if I blindfolded you?” Surely by now he must realize she trusts him; three hours earlier an old Mercedes with mismatched tires and faded robin's egg blue paint and dubious looking driver, had arrived in a billow of dust in her driveway. Betty opened the door wearing a sun dress and flip flops, her hair disheveled, her face dirty from wiping her brow in the days heat while attending to the flower beds, the weathered and scrawny looking driver in his mid to late forties was leaning on the passenger door, squinting toward her. “Can I help you?” she asked feeling like Laura Dern in an old David Lynch movie. The man puts his cigarette in his mouth and leans into the open window, he retrieves a brown paper bag and holds it out toward her. She attempts to soften his rough edge with a flirty smile and the sweetness in her voice as she advances toward him taking hold of the bag “for me?” Inside the bag is a postcard, with a black and white image of lightning bolting across The Eiffel tower, on the back in neatly written cursive the words “Please change into this garment and be ready in one hour, the driver will wait for you.” Betty pulls out a royal blue, silk charmeuse shirt dress. Well he obviously has good taste she thinks. 

An hour later Betty is sitting on the cracked leather front passenger seat, in defiance of the fact her surly driver had held open the back door. Now wearing her new silk dress, a pair of heals she had managed to find buried under some old blankets at the bottom of her closet, a bra she reserved for special occasions such as this, which still had the price tags attached and the matching boy shorts that caused a wedgie altogether uncomfortable but entirely perfect for her round ass. She had run out of time to finish drying her hair, she pulled down the visor and applied some deep red lipstick slowly, smacking her lips together and running her tongue over her teeth, she looks at her driver, her head tilted and asks “how am I?” He laughs and coughs revealing a gold tooth, his eyes were once pretty she thought. “You'll do” he says. Do you mind me asking where are you taking me? “The city.” She understands this is as much chit chat as her companion can handle and leaves him to do the driving while she leans back into the seat and tries to imagine what her mystery man will be like.

TO BE CONTINUED...

You're making me dizzy

Powerless and dishevelled 

Tussled like a toy mouse 

Tossed this way and that

Until the meaning of up is down 

The idea of sense itself is senseless 

A conductor conducting a syphony played by a one man band

A single actor reading all the lines to an audience of one

A stage diver with an audience of none 

Such foolery unfolds in front of thee

I ridicule myself at such mockery 

This ground is not level

The hill too steep to stop

Like a yoyo my thoughts unravel 

With such small movement you bring me back

The encore unfurls yet more 

This ride makes me dizzy, let me off

A Metaphysical Embrace

Does it matter I can not see your face

Should I care about this gap in space 

Ours is a metaphysical embrace

Smoke and mirrors one could say

I can hear my friends say walk away

But it was you who made my day