ushernet Chapter 040 Had I misheard?
Chapter 040 Had I misheard?
As I juggled work with watching the clock, every tick seemed to tighten the knot in my stomach. Glancing at the time, I realized I was over two hours past my usual time getting home, and yet, Betty hadn't called.
I checked my phone a few more times, couldn't help but chuckle at my own paranoia.
Oh right, didn't I set up that live surveillance system at home? Time to give it a whirl on my computer, haven't even tested it since today's setup.
I tried accessing it through an IP address, but no dice—today's hasty exit made me forget the final step in setting up the live feed. I shut down the computer, glanced at the time, and realized tonight I was as good as blind. Watching the minutes slip by, I started to worry.
Betty's usually a sweetheart, but man, when she gets heated, watch out. And this time, our misunderstanding had really set her off.
Looks like I'm the villain in this story. Maybe it's that whole 'love deeply, scold sharply' thing. Betty's probably fuming because she cares so much.
In my head, I kept making excuses for Betty, taking all the blame, really just psyching myself up to make amends when I got home. Because honestly, I was scared. This spat was just handing Michael, that little snake, a golden ticket.
Checking the time, it was nearly 9 PM. I knew Betty wouldn't call tonight.
Fine, she wins. I got dressed and prepped to head home.
Checking out of the hotel under the cashier's curious gaze, I rushed to my car and drove home, rehearsing my peace offering to Betty, figuring out how to mend fences. The issue wasn't huge, but it wasn't trivial either. After about fifteen minutes, I finally made it.
Standing at the front door, I was about to use my key when a thought struck me. A couple of days ago, Betty had said in a video that if I wasn't home, she'd sleep with Michael.
Maybe tonight she thought I wouldn't be back, so she was with him?
I immediately turned on the brightest bedroom lights and then checked Betty's pajamas. To my dismay, I noticed something off.
Her pajama top was disheveled, with one button undone, revealing her bra underneath.
Her pajama pants were also askew, which should have been evenly wrapped around Betty's slim waist but were oddly positioned.
Maybe I was overthinking it, perhaps it was just from Betty tossing and turning in her drunken state.
But after reviewing the surveillance footage these past few days, I knew what kind of person Michael was; he wouldn't miss such an opportunity.
I unbuttoned Betty's pajama top to check her breasts. Pulling aside her bra, her nipples were exposed, glistening with sweat, making it impossible to tell if Michael had kissed them. I leaned in close and sniffed, detecting a faint odor that seemed like a man's mild bad breath.
I then pulled down her pajama pants slightly and saw that Betty's private area was damp, her pubic hair sticky. Something was off. Without caring about the dirtiness, I inserted my finger into Betty's vagina and then brought it to my nose to smell.
There was a mix of sweat, vaginal fluid, and I couldn't determine if there was a semen scent, especially since Michael was young and it was hard to tell how strong the semen smell would be.
Betty was sleeping even more soundly after drinking; she barely reacted to my actions, occasionally tightening her legs or shaking her head, showing no signs of waking up. Betty's tolerance for alcohol was clearly low; she rarely drank and got drunk easily.
How should I figure out what happened tonight? I could wait until tomorrow morning to ask Betty, but I might only get part of the story. I could also take advantage of Betty's deep sleep to go next door and confront Michael, maybe give the kid a piece of my mind.
Right, although tonight's surveillance wasn't activated, the home computer's hard drive must have recorded something. I felt like I had grabbed a lifeline.
I quickly turned on the desktop computer, which was originally in the living room but had been moved to our bedroom after Michael arrived, as Betty didn't want to disturb his studies.
After turning on the computer, I frantically searched for the mixed video files. I wasn't in the mood to organize the files properly; I just pulled up all the video files and started reviewing them.