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Empowerment

When he first picks up the phone, she cannot bring herself to speak. There's silence for a few loaded moments, with a casual "Hello?" from him, and then he hangs up.
Two cigarettes later, she tries again.
There's no "Hello" from him this time around. It takes him about 30 seconds to release a croaked "Birdie?" and it's enough to crack her, reduce her to nothing but hushed whimpers and tears.

He doesn't say anything at that, letting her take it all out. When she's finally done, they're back to silence. She doesn't need a man; she doesn't need him to tell her it's going to be okay, that she's going to be okay. But then his soothing breath, heavy from all these cigarettes is right in her ear, and her hand clenches by itself, longing for his presence.

"I… uh-", she starts and trails off back to silence.

"Where are you?" He asks calmly, bringing an involuntary chill to her spine. She licks her lips, contemplating on whether she should answer truthfully.

"Home."

She can practically hear him nodding through the phone, smiling his little crooked, rare smile. She can't help but smile, too.

"Where-"

"He's away on business with Bobby." She's not expecting him until noon tomorrow, and given their last ordeal, can't be more relieved he's not home.

"One hour, okay?" He says after a moment, and she shivers.

"Don…"

"One hour." He repeats, and hangs up. One hour.

They really shouldn't. She told him she was happy the last time they she saw him, and she was honest to say the least. Is she truly not happy anymore? A slight frown covers her forehead. She thinks of the paradox that seems to be her life. Seeking the attention of the very man who started treating her like that. She couldn't put that into words yet, all she knows is that angers her, makes her blood boil, makes her want to break things.
She fingers the cover of the 'Feminine Mystique', trailing the letters one by one.
It's for empowerment, she says to herself as she picks her best lingerie, insisting on anything red. He likes red.
When the zip comes all the way up, she straightens the hem of her dress, the fabric rough against her deft, excited fingers.

She silently tucks her head into Gene's room, stopping her own air circulation just so she can listen to his. Steady, peaceful.
She can't help but wonder how long is it going to take him to turn against her, like the rest of her children. To not love her the way she tries to love them. She grabs the handle of the door and slightly twists it, closing it without a sound. She takes in her appearance in front of the mirror, her worst friend and enemy, pouting her red-lipstick covered lips.
Perfect.

It's nearly midnight when the knock on the door startles her. The faint sound of rustling keys follows immediately, and he's in before she can even reach the door. She's momentarily taken aback by his entrance, forgetting the set of keys she made for him a few months prior.
He's in his casual work suit, and she can clearly smell his (her) favorite cologne even from their current position.
He takes a few steps towards her, shedding his heavy coat into a neat fold, placing it carefully on the railing of the wooden steps.

He's in her personal space way too soon, and her breath catches in her throat. They stand there for a while, staring each other down; thankful it's all being said while nothing leaves their mouth but heavy exhales.
His thumb is suddenly on her cheekbone, traveling to the soft skin beneath her eyes, rubbing slightly, looking for the tears she freely allowed him to hear an hour before. She made it all go away, covering every trace with makeup.
His wedding ring is cold against her jaw, creating a strangely arousing knot in her belly. She can own him, if only for tonight. She brings a single finger to touch his stubble covered philtrum, bringing it down to his recently licked, wet lips.
His mouth opens instantly to welcome her finger in, sucking it with hollowed cheeks. Her knees buckle at this, her lungs expanding quickly with each labored breath.

He brings his body closer to hers, forcing her to take a few steps back until she hits the wooden wall of the staircase. The wall allows him to test his leverage, increasing the friction with his thigh coming to rest between hers.
She leans in to catch his lower lip between her teeth. She gently bites down, letting him know that nothing's sweet is heading their way. He takes the hint, thrusting his hips forward, allowing her to feel how hard he already is.
She gasps at the familiar feeling and completes the bite with a rough kiss, plundering at his lips with hers, both her hands busy making a hot mess out of his carefully-styled hair.

"Jesus, Betts…" He breathes in between frantic kisses, thrusting his tongue against hers. His hands are roaming all over her, lingering on her breasts to cup both, teasing her sensitive, hard nipples.

"Bed-rooom." She merely releases when he picks her up, urging her legs to tangle around his upper thighs. He withdraws from their fevering kiss, making her pull on his hair so she can bring him back down to her neck and cleavage.
He resists for a moment, smirking at her heated frustration.

"No. Right here." And it's enough to send a surge of wetness down her core.
It's been years since he last said that. He finally succumbs to her wish, and starts trailing down her neck with open-mouthed kisses, careful not to mark her.
He grabs her ass none too gently and starts moving the other way around, towards the couch, his throbbing erection pulsing right beneath her panties.
Empowerment, she reminds herself when she lands on the couch with a thump, her ex-husband not wasting a moment before mounting her, his hands traveling all over. She grabs his slick hair again, making him lift his chin and look at her. His dilated, dark pupils stare into her own blue ones, and she has to clench her teeth and stop herself from allowing him to have his way with her.

She takes his palm, entwining her fingers with his, guiding him to her zipper. He catches on her lead and zips her down, peeling the dress to pool around her ankles. She then grabs his hand once again, placing it directly on her aching breast.
He pinches her nipple through the red material of her bra, his silent grin appreciative of the selected color. It takes him less than a few seconds to unhook the garment, leaving her chest bare and exposed for his mouth to ravish.
She pulls his dress shirt from his pants as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling on it skillfully.
Her jaw looseness as she moans softly, biting on her lip. He halts only to help her unbutton his shirt, disposing of it before giving her other nipple the same treatment.

Her hand latches onto his hair, dictating his every move, and finally shoving him downwards. He seems surprised at her direct approach, as is she, but follows her lead with excitement. She rarely allowed him to do this back when they were married (that being said she was always willing and eager to pleasure him regardless). He doesn't bother with her panties when he finally reaches his destination, swiftly moving her thighs to lie above his bare shoulders. He merely shifts the material aside to expose her and rubs his nose just above her clit, taking in her scent.
Having an excellent view of his doings, she cannot recall the last time she felt as aroused. She watches as he carefully laps at her juices, his increasing speed causing her to moan loudly and throw her head back in ecstasy.

"Oh god…" Is all she manages to say in between moans. His hand comes to rest above her mouth.
She frowns in confusion at his actions, and then a scream nearly ripples her throat when he sucks on her clit, thankful for his muffling hand. His other one keeps pinching her nipples, causing her to buck against his face more fiercely and her hand to clutch on his hair even harder. He stops all too soon, leaving her impatient and wildly panting.
Her eyes drop to his straining erection, silently begging for release from beneath its confining garments. She pulls on his hair once again, making his neck twist back in agony, clarifying he's not to touch or do anything until she allows him to.
Her free hand twists his buckle open, her fingers carefully pulling down the zipper. With his nostrils flared, she cups his erection with her small hand, relishing in the amount of power she still has over him.

"I own you." It slips from between her lips as her hold on him tightens, rubbing him up and down. With his eyes wide upon hearing her words, he nods eagerly.
Quickly flipping their positions, her knees land on either side of him to a straddle.
She presses her breasts flush against his bare chest and urges him to lift his hips in order to shove both his boxers and dress pants down his legs. His cock is as hard as it can be, rising up to touch his stomach.
Don's hands are mute by his sides, complying with her clear, unsaid orders.
Grinding her dripping slit against his cock a few times causes both to clench their jaws, their noses pressed to one another. She lets him take the lead for once, as he finally breaks the rules and gropes both of her ass cheeks with his hands, spreading her wide open and thrusting home.
A series of loud moans spill from her full lips, and she has to bite his shoulder to stifle the sound. Both meet midway, as his hips buck upwards with every shallow thrust. She could not express for the life of her how much she missed the feeling of him inside of her, filling her completely and fully, his erection designed to hit this ridiculously sweet spot deep within the depths of her walls.
A clear sound of slapping flesh produces from their intertwined, sweaty bodies, him thrusting and her rising and falling in rhythm on top of him. His hand drops in between them, thumb finding her swollen clit.
Pulling his hair back once again, she nods wildly at his actions, urging him to rub her down faster and faster, resuming the frantic orgasm she was going to have before. With his teeth scraping down her neck, a couple of minutes later her walls contract around him as the most blissful orgasm she's ever known falls upon her, causing her vision to form into a white façade. He continues thrusting shallowly for a few moments, letting her ride out her orgasm to an end, before pulsing and coming deep inside of her, the aftermath of their love making dripping out of her to pool around their joined parts.

Her chin rests on his shoulder now, her labored breath right against his ear. Betty rubs her nose against his neck, her skin catching the musky smell of his cologne. Don's hand comes to rest on the small of her back, making her pull back so she can look him in the eye.
With a grateful, satisfied smile, he leans in for a kiss, which she returns with a matching smile. Although still pulsing inside of her due to the aftershock, she lifts her hips, releasing her grip on him. Standing up and reaching out her hand, she leads him upstairs, not bothering to collect their discarded clothes on the living room's floor.
She stops in front of Gene's door, twisting the handle to take a peek at him. Don's arms embrace her from behind as they both watch their mutual son sound asleep, his hair sandy like hers and his facial features matching his father's.
Even as a married couple, they never had permanent 'sides' of the bed, and so she chuckles lightly when he takes her usual place on the bed, and she takes Henry's. They cling to one another for warmth, her head resting on his chest and his arm engulfing her narrow waist.

"I want you. I want you back." He whispers in the dark, fully aware that she's awake, listening to his every word. She feels like punching him then, yelling at him, asking 'where the hell have you been all this time?', but instead, keeps her mouth shut, choosing not to answer.
Both of them know he'll be gone by morning, words and promises out the door as swiftly as he came. And yet, none of it matters. It's for empowerment, she reminds herself. She's better off.