Note: I am the first to admit I was a bit nervous about doing an Nfic about Betty. This IS Betty, after all! But Betty is not a saint, a child, or made of ice. She is an adult woman who clearly has a very good imagination. It wouldn't be so strange if her mind wanders a bit from time to time ; ) The Wading Pool by Dana Sherman Part 1 Betty Roberts worked almost constantly. Between her long days at WENN and her weekends spent typing in her little apartment, it was only rarely that she even had much of a chance to get outside. This day was like most of her Sundays, she sat at her kitchen table, typing out the next installments of her myriad soaps and dramas. She was dripping with perspiration, trying to keep herself cool with cold lemonade and a hand held fan. The air was so heavy with heat she could barely think. But there were scripts to be written. There was nothing else she could do. It wasn't until the thermometer outside her window finally hit the triple digits, that she finally gave up. She couldn't concentrate on anything anymore. It was too hot to write plots. It was too hot to even think of them. The lemonade got warm so fast in the heat that there was no way it could keep her cool. She was getting so tired fanning herself that there was no point to that either. There was only one thing that would revive her on a day like this. An hour in the park wading pool. It had been so hot and sticky lately. Betty knew she needed to get out from under everything for at least a little while. It wasn't just the oppressive heat either. It was Hilary and Jeff's bickering, the concern she still felt about Victor, the nervous knowledge that Scott loved her. She had pretended that she thought he didn't mean it, in order to give him a graceful out. But she knew he had meant it. Nobody said something with a gun to their head that they didn't mean. Even Scott Sherwood, the prince of all liars, wouldn't lie as the very last thing he thought he would ever say. She changed into her bathing suit and a wraparound skirt, put on a simple pair of sandles and walked to the park slowly, wishing she could somehow simply pop into the park by some kind of magic so she wouldn't have to walk the three blocks in the steamy heat. The park was almost deserted. A young mother was wheeling a baby carriage along the path by the trees, and a family of 4 children and their father were in the playground, spinning each other around on the manual metal merry go round. There were picnic tables by the playground but no one was sitting at them. Grateful that the park was so relatively empty on such a hot day, and that the wading pool was on the other side of the park from the playground, so she wouldn't be disturbed, she walked over to the pool. She stepped out of her sandles, unwrapped her skirt and sat on the edge of the pool, placing her bare feet in the cold water. Betty put her hands down into the water and scooped some of it up, pouring it over her hair and letting the icy coolness dribble down her neck and back, feeling almost surprised that the water didn't sizzle and steam when it hit her skin. A light breeze blew over her wet hair and skin, cooling it to bearable levels, and allowing her to relax and think again. She looked at the little fountain in the middle of the pool, concentrating on the way the sunlight sparkled on the streams of water. She let herself become almost hypnotized by the sight. All the crises had passed. Victor assured her that he was going to be all right. Pruitt had been arrested and brought to the hospital to have his wound treated. The radio shows were running as smoothly as they ever did. There was still the problem of Hilary and Jeff, of course. She would have to do something about that. Maybe she should lock them in the supply closet and refuse to let them out until they had worked out their differences, Betty thought. It would be no more than they deserved. For the most part, though, Betty had nothing left to think about, and she sat on the edge of the pool, letting the water cool her legs. The water she had poured onto her hair and neck was already dry, vanished in the heat. She splashed some water onto the front of her bathing suit, closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. That they drifted almost immediately to Scott completely failed to surprise her. Her thoughts had been doing that a lot lately. Far more often than she wished they would. Perhaps she should go back to work tomorrow and tell him she would accept his love. That she would try to build a life with him. What would life with Scott be like, she wondered. Once he had confessed his love for her, it was inevitable that the thought would rattle around in her brain, looking for a place to settle. She already lived her life with him, for the most part. They greeted each other at 8 AM and often did not part company until midnight. They worked together, ate together, exchanged jokes and stories, shared their lives with each other. She knew Scott as well as she had ever known any man outside her family. As far as the station was concerned, they practically lived together anyway, at least during the day. There was nothing they didn't do together. No, that wasn't really true. There was one thing they had never done together. But that idea had started to incorporate itself into her mind too. She remembered the time he had kissed her in the hallway. She had been shocked and angry at the time. He had no right to do that. He could thank the fact that she was in shock at his outrageous behavior that she hadn't slapped his face a second time. But now, five months later, sitting in the broiling heat of an early September day, splashing aimlessly in the icy cold water of the wading pool, she couldn't help wondering. She had enjoyed dancing with him during the quarantine, had enjoyed the feel of his arms around her. She still wasn't sure why she had kissed his cheek that night. She had never felt anything for him before that, anything but irritation and annoyance anyway. But that night had been different. They all had been different, with their laughing and flirting and dancing. Too bad the two weeks of quarantine had ended with such hostility. They had all been such good friends for a while. What would it be like to kiss Scott when she wanted to? When she knew he wanted to. When neither one of them had to take the other by surprise. She was usually able to quickly turn her mind from this line of thinking, to start concentrating on the new radio shows she would have to write for the upcoming week, or how she would deal with an irate sponsor. But this time, she was too hot and tired to bother trying to control her thoughts. She just leaned on the edge of the pool, letting the thoughts flow uncontrolled over her, much as the water flowed from her hands onto her skin. She imagined Scott kissing her, allowing his lips to briefly touch hers several times. She wasn't sure if she was imagining that he was teasing her or that she was teasing him, but in her thoughts, he kissed her gently on the lips and down the front of her neck and around her shoulders, until she thought she would not be able to stand the teasing for one more moment. She grabbed onto his hair tightly, pulling his face to hers. He suddenly caught her sense of urgency and kissed her passionately on the mouth. Her lips and throat felt dry and her skin was tingling all over. He dropped his lips to the front of her bathing suit, kissing her breasts through the thin, wet material, gradually pulling down the shoulder straps and running his hands over her soft, now cool, skin. The temperature seemed to get even hotter. She splashed her toes in the icy water as a deep warmth moved from her feet up her legs, settling itself between her thighs. She sank down into the water, until she was sitting on the bottom of the pool, and leaned back against the edge. She bit her lip and ran her fingers through her wet hair and across the back of her neck, her eyes closing of their own accord. Scott was still there in her mind, whispering softly in her ear, kissing her gently on the lips. She imagined him running his hand up her inner thighs. Betty heard herself involuntarily gasp, and she noticed her breathing had quickened. She knew she was entering dangerous territory but she didn't much care. Her thoughts had become uncontrollable. She imagined Scott's attentions getting more fervent. He was removing her bathing suit slowly, one hand pulling the drenched fabric down her body, the other hand gently tickling between her legs. She couldn't help raising herself a little off the bottom of the pool, allowing the water to splash pleasantly against her body, letting it caress her as she imagined Scott was doing. The little fountain in the middle of the pool stirred up the water just enough to make it tingle against her skin. The water prickled up and down her legs. The iciness of the water only made the heat of the day, and of her thoughts, become almost unbearable. She imagined Scott becoming even more impassioned. His gentle tickling became harder and more determined. She concentrated on the sensations her imagination was telling her she would feel. Her hands clenched into fists and tightly gripped the edge of the pool. If just thinking about this felt so wonderful, Betty wondered, what could it feel like to really do it? She knew her breathing was coming in uncontrolled gasps, but she couldn't even try to stop her thoughts anymore. "Scott" she moaned aloud. The sound of her own voice suddenly jolted her into full consciousness. She looked around the pool nervously, but it was deserted. There was no one anywhere near her. She had better get herself out of the pool and dried off. What had gotten into her anyway? When had the idea of Scott Sherwood touching and kissing her become so appealing? Had she always felt that way, since she had met him, or only lately? When had he become such an overwhelming part of her life? She couldn't even remember how she used to feel about him, so she had no way to compare. Betty got to her feet and stepped out of the pool. She wrapped her skirt back around herself and stepped back into her sandles. She was still wet and her hair still dripped cold water down her back, but she didn't mind. It would keep her cool for a few extra minutes. She decided to go to the movies. It was air-conditioned there, so it didn't even matter what she saw. Whatever was playing, she would see. Well, she hoped it wasn't that passionate romantic film with Robert Taylor she had seen an ad for in the newspaper. In the mood she was in, that just might be too much for her. Part 2 Scott couldn't believe the heat. It had to be 98 degrees at least. And if it had hit 100 he wouldn't be surprised either. Thanking the Gods of radio for a whole Sunday off, he had come to the small Pittsburgh park he had often seen from the bus window on his way to work. The park had looked so peaceful under the trees, just soft green grass and flowers surrounding a small cement wading pool, with a little playground and picnic tables off to the side. He needed someplace quiet where he could think. He couldn't think amid the frenetic pace and continual crises of WENN. His apartment was cramped and cluttered, a place with dishes in the living room and clothes on the floor. A place to crash into bed at the end of a 13 hour day and fall asleep within a few minutes, but not a place to think. He sat aimlessly at one of the picnic tables and looked across the park at the pool. He wasn't dressed for wading, but there was nothing stopping him from splashing some cold water on his face. Nothing, that is, except the fact that it would mean getting up and walking over to the pool in the sweltering heat. Just sitting at the table under the trees was infinitely more appealing. At first, Scott didn't quite register the identity of the pretty brown haired girl in the bathing suit who was sitting on the edge of the pool when he got there. Then she picked some water up with her hands and poured it over her hair, her face turning into profile. Scott suddenly realized, with a bit of a jolt, that he was looking at the woman that he loved. His first reaction was to turn away. To get up and leave. Seeing Betty in a bathing suit seemed almost indecent somehow, like he was peeking in her window and seeing her nude. But he couldn't figure out why he felt this way. Betty was in a public park, wearing a bathing suit in a public pool. She wasn't doing anything wrong. He gazed at her, pouring the water from her hands over her hair. The bathing suit outlining the trim figure her modest office clothes rarely showed. Even from this distance, he could tell how beautiful she was. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. She sat on the edge of the pool for awhile, splashing water over her hair and on her body. Scott continued looking over at her from a distance, not daring to come any closer. He didn't want to destroy this moment. Not simply the chance to see Betty more scantily dressed than he had ever seen her, but even more than that, the chance to see her away from work, away from responsibility and the rigid control she always had over every situation. Betty, cooling off in a pool, splashing water onto herself like some kind of a water nymph from the mythological stories he had learned as a child. The gentle breezes rustling her hair. He continued gazing across the park, letting himself become completely enraptured by the very thought of the woman he adored beyond all else on the earth. He suddenly wondered if she could swim. He had never seen her swim. He had never seen her skate, or ride a bicycle. He had never seen her do anything except write, sing, act, and run an entire radio station single handedly. He had never seen her just relax and have fun. He suddenly wanted to see her on the front car of a roller coaster, clinging to him and screaming. Or at the top of the ferris wheel, looking passionately into his eyes. Or lying peacefully on a hillside full of flowers. Or on a dance floor, with her arms wrapped around him, dancing slowly and quietly, her body just barely touching his. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her under the stars, with a band playing and Betty singing sweetly and softly in his ear. He wanted to kiss her once more. Not to grab her roughly like he had done before, but kiss her gently and slowly. He wanted to gently run his fingers through her hair and down her back. He wanted to feel her melt in his arms. He could imagine himself married to Betty. He had never been able to see himself married to anyone before. Even when he dreamed he was making love to her, they were always married and on their honeymoon. She was always wearing white chiffon and lace. She would be nervous at first, he supposed, innocent girls always were, but he would be kind and gentle to her. He would show her he meant her no harm, that he wanted only to love her. He couldn't even be sure when he had started to love her. It seemed he had loved her for so long that he had completely lost track of the time. He could imagine their wedding night. He could see himself gently caressing her, gradually removing her satin and lace, kissing her slowly, making love to her passionately. She would be so beautiful. Her skin soft and delicate, the color of pink roses and cream. Her brown hair shimmering against the lace of her gown. He could see her relax as he held and kissed her, gradually become his willing lover. She would lie in his arms and gaze at him lovingly. Her deep brown eyes would convey nothing but complete love and trust. She would trust him. After so long hoping and trying, she would trust him. He rolled his eyes at himself in amazement. When had he become such a sop, he wondered. What was he turning into? He was turning into a man in love. He shuddered at the realization of the strength of what he was feeling. Could Betty even begin to see it, he wondered. He hadn't meant to catch her in her brassiere and slip in the writers room that day when Hilary had changed clothes with her, but he couldn't help being dismayed by her reaction. She shrieked when he came near her. She looked positively terrified when he so much as tried to help her with her back zipper. Was she that frightened of him? Did she hate him that much? Or was it something else entirely? Did she scream with terror at his slightest touch because she was afraid that she would start to like him too much? It was impossible to tell. He only knew that if she screamed like that when he was trying to help her dress, she would probably become hysterical if he were to try to undress her. He smiled and sighed to himself, continuing to gaze across the park at Betty. Betty had sunk herself down into the pool now. Her back was to him so he couldn't see her face and she had no idea he was there. Even if she had, she was too far away for him to really make out details. In any case, he didn't want her to see him. She would freeze up, become all business again. He lived for these moments of quiet observation. When he might catch her laugh or brush her hair out of her eyes, adjust her stocking, nibble on her pencil in thought, or sing along to the radio in the Green Room. Betty stepped out of the pool, slipped her clothes back on and walked toward the exit of the park. At first, Scott thought she might see him, but she walked past the playground and the picnic tables without glancing at them. She seemed lost in thought. He could have called out to her but he didn't want to disturb her on her one day off. It was just too hot to stay outside. He got up from the bench slowly, trying to figure out what would be the coolest place where he could go. His apartment was a sweatbox. The movies-that was it. The new movie theatre in the city was air conditioned. It would be wonderfully cool and comfortable there. He didn't know what was playing and he didn't care. Anything would do if there were air conditioning there. He just hoped it wasn't that romantic movie with Vivian Leigh he had read about. In his mood, that might be too much for him to take.