Chapter Text
I'm glad you haven't forgotten how to drive,
Bertha grumbled as they made their way up the winding road. She didn't like it. It was dark and she only got more and more nervous on each turn.
George gave that deep chuckle that still managed to make Bertha's heart flutter all these years later. Just because we have drivers doesn't mean I don't like driving. Do you think I would let anyone else take Old Red for a spin?
Now it was Bertha's turn to shake her head and laugh. You boys and your toys. I swear I will never understand men's fascination with cars.
George gave Bertha a sly look as he kept his focus on the road. Well, I doubt I will ever understand women's fascination with all this skincare and makeup. You look just as good now as you did when you were wearing whatever I could slip into my pockets at the drugstore.
Bertha turned to George as he pulled into the driveway at the house where they would be staying tonight. Well, not exactly. Their overnight place was about a half hour away. But, this is where they would likely (hopefully) be until the wee hours of the morning. I hate to tell you, George, but I think you may be a little biased on the subject of my looks.
George pulled the key out of the ignition and turned to face Bertha. Well, if what your mother said was to be believed, I should've started detesting the sight of you about twenty years ago. So, if anything, my continued adoration of you should be evidence to the contrary.
Bertha pulled George in for a kiss. They really had beaten the odds. At seventeen, Bertha had been kicked out of the house for announcing that she was going to have George Russell's baby. Now, twenty five years later, George was at the helm of venture capital firm that had backed a string of successful tech companies, and Bertha's magazines managed to be the few surviving the transition from print to digital. As if that wasn't enough success, they were still deeply, madly in love with each other.
My wonderful, ridiculous husband,
Bertha murmured against George's lips.
George nuzzled Bertha. My wonderful, ridiculous wife.
Bertha pulled back and opened the glove compartment to retrieve the papers that she'd stowed there at the beginning of the drive. Right, this one's yours and this one's mine,
she said while handing a paper to her husband.
To be honest, George was surprised they weren't thicker. He would wager the majority of the people here would have everything to lose if word got out about their attendance. He would've thought the contract would be a stack half an inch thick and ironclad. But, he supposed it was a bit of a devil's sacrament situation. You couldn't say who was there without letting everyone know you were there too.
George looked at his wife, whose eyes were starting to dart around the house in front of them and said, Bertha, if you've changed your mind, we can go back to our little cabin and have the night to ourselves. This is meant to be fun for both of us, and I won't have a good time if you're not also having a good time.
Bertha turned back to George and all the anxiety rushed out of her. No, I want to do this. It's just, you know, I've never done this before. I'm not really used to being on the back foot like this.
George reached out and squeezed Bertha's hand. I get it. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous too.
Bertha raised an eyebrow. Bullshit. You barely look it.
George raised Bertha's hand to his lips. Only because you're here next to me.
You're relentless,
Bertha chuckled as she pulled her hand back. Right, and what are your boundaries for us?
George scratched the back of his head and said, Um, I guess, I don't want to sound too controlling or—
George, I don't care if you're worried about sounding like some patriarchal asshole. I would rather know what you're not comfortable with me doing than me do something and you get mad about it because you're trying to be progressive or whatever the fuck.
There was something George loved about how blunt and direct Bertha was. He never had to guess at her emotions, and he knew he could be honest with her no matter what (in fact, dishonesty was a mortal sin when it came to her, as he found out when her secretary tried to seduce him a few years ago).
Fine, so I think,
George answered, too shy to look Bertha in the eye, I'm fine with you doing whatever with another woman, and I'm fine if you want to do stuff without me, but I don't know how comfortable I am with you having sex with another man unless we're together with another couple.
Bertha shrugged, Fine with me.
George looked up at Bertha and was relieved to see how not bothered she was. Oh. That's good. What are your, um, ground rules, I guess?
Bertha smiled at how much George still deferred to her and how much this titan of a man still craved her reassurance. It's about the same. You can do whatever with a man with or without me, but only fuck a woman if I'm there.
Once again, Bertha's succinct bluntness shone through. George really did love his wife. Fine with me. Ok, shall we?
Bertha opened her door. We're not getting any younger.
The pair walked across the gravel towards the mansion up in the Catskills that was glowing with a healthy amount of people inside. Bertha instinctively took George's hand and George ran his thumb up and down the back of Bertha's hand. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, And I'm fine just going to a room and fucking you loud enough that the entire party can hear how I give it to you better than anyone else.
A shiver flew down Bertha's spine at that. At the door, a young woman holding a clipboard looked at the couple and asked, Names?
Bertha regained her composure and answered, George Russell and Bertha Russell.
It was good of the girl to act like she didn't recognize them, as if they weren't at the Met Gala a few weeks ago. As if Bertha wasn't consistently on every listicle's best dressed list.
She ticked off their names and looked up with a smile. Mr. and Mrs. Russell, if you could follow me inside. Oh, and I can take those contracts off your hands.
Bertha took the paper from George's hand and handed both over to the young woman leading the pair inside. Oh, and here is a lock box for your phones. I'm assuming you're fine sharing one between the two of you? Or do you want one each in case one of you wants to leave early?
George looked at Bertha, who answered on their behalf, I think we're fine sharing one, thank you sweetheart.
George hid a smirk as he saw the girl clearly get a little flustered at that, cheeks red with a likely involuntary giggle. There was nothing Bertha loved more than making someone stumble on their words, and George loved to see her in action. Okay, um, then here's the key. If you lose it, your lock box number is 82, which I've noted on your sign in sheet as well. A few reminders before I let you go. Living room, hot tub, and bathroom are off-limits for anything further than kissing. Especially please keep your time in the bathroom to a minimum. Also, if any guests make you feel unsafe, there will be coordinators walking around in black with an earpiece who you can come to at any time, and that we do reserve the right to ask you to leave if we feel your behavior endangers the safety of other guests. Right, that's all from me, do you two have any questions for me regarding ground rules?
Bertha nervously laughed, To be honest, this is our first time, so I don't think I know what I don't know.
The girl gave a dazzling smile. Don't worry, that's the case for about a third of the guests. In my experience, the people who have the best time at these things are the people who don't go in with expectations. See where the night takes you, and keep the lines of communication open.
My, that's good advice from the check-in girl.
This isn't my first rodeo,
she said with a wink. Have fun!
Thanks,
George said bemusedly. He turned to his wife and muttered, Nice girl. Don't think you're meant to flirt with her.
Bertha looked back at George with a cheeky grin. Oh please, I barely did a thing.
Mhmm, sure you did,
George said with a sideways smile. Bertha clung on to George's arm as they entered the living room. She had no idea what to expect or what one even did at these things, but when a pair of eyes she knew well met her's from across the room, Bertha's heart beat faster.
What the hell was Aurora Fane doing at a place like this?