Mad Men belongs to Matt Weiner, AMC, and Lionsgate

Don Draper held his wife's waist unusually close to his body as he bade goodnight to the final client after a long night celebrating his career in the advertising industry. It was a span of work that he had spent over a decade cultivating and improving, starting out as a lowly junior copy writer and working his way to head of creative at Sterling Cooper, one of the largest advertising agencies in New York, now entering its fortieth year in business. The night had been planned months in advance by the bigwigs at the agency, Don's bosses and colleagues as an effort to please their shareholders in London and the clients in the States. The evening was perfectly orchestrated so that every party felt that the night was an unqualified success.

Don stole a furtive glance at his wife Betty as the room continued to clear out. His evening had been slightly marred by the seemingly blasé attitude from his wife. Here they were together at a the dining hall of the Waldorf Astoria and Betty Draper seemed miles away from everyone and everything. He noticed her distance over the phone that morning – finalizing the details for the event – but he attributed it to her 'ill health' rather than genuine unhappiness.

Betty let out a heavy sigh, indicating that she was more than ready to depart for the evening and head back to Ossining. She gave a longing glance to the exit as Don pulled her hand in the opposite direction.

"It's late," Betty said softly.

"What if I told you that the night wasn't over?" he asked, leading her to the grand elevator in the lobby.

Betty's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't want to meet another one of your business colleagues," she whispered. She carefully pulled away from his touch, choosing the opposite side of the elevator.

Don sent Betty a curious look. "You'll feel better in a minute."

Really, Betty asked herself, looking at the golden numbers on the side door, indicating that they were going to the upper levels of the hotel. Because you know me so well. Yet what do I know about you?

The elevator let out a crystal ding, announcing the arrival of their destination. Don motioned for Betty to follow, which she did in tiny, ladylike steps. They stopped at the end of the hall, in front of an ivory colored door. Reaching into his pants pocket, Don pulled out a room key, opening the door in one quick motion.

Betty's eyes widen at the elaborate scene before her. Straight in front of her was a balcony with a beautiful view of the city. To her left was a large king size bed with a bottle of champagne resting on top. To her right was a bathroom leading to a large marble bathtub filled with a variety of different scents and salts. Betty said nothing as she walked toward the balcony, taking the pins out of her hair.

"You look amazing," Don said, coming up behind her.

Betty turned to Don. "Why are you doing this?"

Don began to rub Betty's shoulders. "I thought that we could use a night alone together." He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You've been so tired lately, caring for the baby and the house."

Betty instinctively backed away, bracing herself against the railing of the balcony.

Don let out a sigh. "Was it that terrible tonight?" he asked, stepping toward her.

Betty shook her head. "Just like every other business function."

Don stood next to her on the balcony. "You were the most beautiful woman in the room." He reached for her hand, only to touch the cool granite of the railing.

Six months ago you would have won me over with that line alone, Betty mused, catching Don's desirous glance. Betty carefully sidestepped as Don came toward her once more.

"Betts," Don said a low voice. He wasn't used to her cold shoulder; he didn't know what to do with it. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Betty repeated back. She had received her opening once more, another chance to tell him everything that had been on her mind for the past week. She folded her arms, daring him to ask her one more time.

Don stepped in front of her, blocking her from moving. "Birdie," Don pleaded.

Betty lowered her head unable to look at him. One look from him could break me, make me forget everything.

"No," Don said, tilting her chin up in his right hand.

Betty let out an exhausted breath. She had been dying to talk to him for days, but as usual he had made himself unavailable to her, choosing to put his work above the family yet again. For years Betty had praised her husband's ambition – his desire to succeed – knowing that it was his success that kept her in the lifestyle that she had grown very accustomed to. Yet recent events made her change her outlook, questioning everything she had ever believed about the man that everyone in New York called 'Don Draper.'

Betty looked up at the starry midnight sky and decided that she would give Don Draper exactly what she wanted, and take care of herself at the same time. This could be our last time, she thought to herself as she pressed her mouth against her husband's, releasing a moan for good measure. She was going to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get the information that she was desperately craving. "Don," Betty moaned into his ear as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to room.

Placing her on the ground, Don unzipped her long evening gown, allowing it to fall to the floor. He hurriedly kissed her mouth, releasing months of pent up frustration and tension. It had been months since they had made love, and though Don would never tell her, he missed her more than he could say.

Don lowered her onto the bed, running his fingers through her loose locks, inhaling her feminine scent. Betty refused to meet his eyes as he continued his pursuit of her. Looking at him, giving him contact, would only result in her losing her nerve.

"Oh," Betty sighed, ready to go in for the kill. "Oh Dick." Betty glanced up at Don, who had stopped cold, his face beginning to turn a very pale white.

"What did you say?" he asked, looking down at her. Betty said nothing. "What did you say?" he asked louder, demanding an answer.

"That's your name isn't it?" Betty defiantly challenged. "Your legal name."

Don wordlessly got off the bed, walking to the mini bar. "You don't know what you're talking about," he gruffly replied.

"Don't I?" Betty asked, going to the closet for one of the hotel bathrobes. "I know more than you think."

Swirling his drink in his hand, Don walked toward her, backing her against the wall. "Like what?" he challenged with an obvious edge, daring her to rat him out and tell his secrets.

"Plenty," Betty replied, crossing her arms over her chest. There was no way for either party to escape, the truth was finally going to come out, whether they were ready or not.