Can a wife's betrayal strengthen a good marriage?
This is a riff on George Anderson's wonderful story "February Sucks."
Dipping the toe into the LW category again. Couldn't be too precise with the tags or I'd give the plot away, but this is a play on the February sucks theme. There's no btb, humiliation, or raac here. It's a story about a good relationship and a wife's attempt to make it better and the husband's reaction. I don't have an editor, but I try hard to eliminate mistakes...there will be a few. I hope they don't spoil your appreciation of the story. I know this deviates quite a bit from the plot of the original George Anderson story, but I want to thank you Mr. Anderson for inspiring me. This is a work of fiction. All participants in the story are over eighteen years old and any resemblance to individuals living or dead is purely coincidental.
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"Ok babe. I better shut my phone down. The flight attendant assures me we'll be wheels up in just a few minutes. Love you."
"Love you more!" Kate replied as she always does. "And we'll be pushing it. I'll lay out your clothes so you'll just have to grab a quick shower before the party."
"Aw, do we have to go? It's been four months babe. I need you more than cheap chardonnay and rubber hotel chicken." I was so frustrated that my flight yesterday got canceled and Kate and I couldn't have a night all alone to rediscover each other after four months in that shithole.
"Tim, you know we have to go. Jake is making the big announcement tonight. Plus it's your time to shine. It's just a few hours and then we'll be alone. Just think, no more long trips after he announces your promotion!"
God I love my wife. And I miss her so much. It's been four long months since she dropped me off at O'Hare and now I'm just a flight from LaGuardia to being in her arms again. The trip was a shit show. Delays in production. An attack from who knows which group of idiots that was trying to rip us off. Finally bad weather in the North Atlantic. At least I had a day off in London to visit with Tim, Jr., and his beautiful, pregnant wife Elise; but I'm so horny for my wife, that I don't think I'll even be able to dance with her tonight without cumming in my pants!
Fortunately, the flight went off without delay and we landed on time. I caught an Uber home and got there in time to grab my shower. On the ride I thought about my pretty wife of 25 years.
Pretty yes. Not hot. Not beautiful. Pretty in a casual All-American way. At 5'5" with her lithe runners body, still nice, but frustrating to her because she never seems to work off the last 10-15 lbs. she thinks she needs to get to her ideal weight. I love her cute body though. Curves in just the right places. Since Jr. was born the extra few pounds seemed to fill out her 34 Bs just right for me. Kate wears her hair in a sensible off-shoulder cut that can be dressed up or down easily. Mostly down. She's a casual girl, more likely to don a Braves baseball cap (I'm a Cubs fan, but sheesh, she looks so good in that thing that I can live with it) than a tiara. Her sparkling blue eyes and fair skin are accentuated by perfect teeth and when she smiles, her cute little dimple on her cheek makes her look like a perfect little cutie. I'd rate her a 7 everyday and an 8 to 8.5 when she dresses up like she surely will tonight. Just thinking about her in the Uber gave me a woody.
Kate's car was in the driveway when Kamala dropped me off. When I entered the house, my sense of stability and balance washed over me. I was home. I could hear Kate fumbling around upstairs in our bedroom and bounded up the stairs to my love.
Ack! What was I looking at???
Kate was in her terrycloth bathrobe and curlers. I hugged her from behind, but when I spun her around for a kiss, I noticed her face was covered in some sort of green pasty substance.
I recoiled and she laughed. "What, you don't like my beauty mask?"
She explained that the mask was some sort of skin treatment that was supposed to rejuvenate her "aging skin."
"Oh babe, you don't need it. Your skin is perfect like everything else about you!"
"Aw" she replied, "you think everything about me is perfect babe, but Father Time waits for no one and as long as I can cheat him, I'll do whatever I can to battle these crow's feet. Now SHOWER! The limo is coming in an hour."
I dutifully stepped into our bathroom and turned on the water. Jeez it felt good. No matter how posh your traveling accommodations are, and mine are first class--unless I'm in a tent in the desert (yeah, I have a special set of skills, many actually), you never tire of the familiar feel of your own shower, bed, and, to be honest, toilet.
After rinsing all my nooks and crannies and getting a close shave I dried off and went back into the bedroom to don my duds.
"Hey! Did you buy me a new suit?"
"It's a Zegna, cost a fortune, but we can afford it now and you need to look sharp. Wait until you see my ensemble" Kate giggled.
I suited up and went downstairs and made a light G&T. Soon I heard the hairdryer going and Kate walking back and forth across the room.
Half and hour later I heard her heels on the stairs.
Holy fucking shit! Did I say she was an 8-8.5? As she came down the stairs I was looking at a 17!
Her new blue silk dress accentuated her curves perfectly. Clearly, she'd been working out and had achieved that "ideal weight" that she so longed for. The necklace I gave her for our 25th completed the look along with her perfectly styled hair and make up.
I got a woody.
"Oh Dear! Kate giggled. We can't walk out to the limo with that thing tenting your suit."
As she dropped to her knees she whispered sexily "here, baby, let me help you with that."
Kate quickly unzipped the trousers of my $5000 suit and dropped to her knees. She took me in her mouth. To my surprise she swallowed me whole...deep throating was never in her repertoire before and I made a mental note to ask her about that, but her ministrations distracted me at the moment. Soon I told her "babe, I'm almost there."
She'd never swallowed in the past, but she looked at me purred, her vibrations sending me over the edge. For the first time in our long relationship she swallowed every drop of my load. Again, I thought "WTF! Where did she learn that?"
As she got off her knees she smiled and said "ooh, let me go fix my face. She clacked off to the guest bath off the den in her heels and I soon heard the water running as she brushed her teeth and gargled.
When she came out I was about to ask her, where she learned to do that. But before I could get the words out the doorbell rang. It was the limo driver. Not wanting to discuss our sex life in front of a stranger, I determined to get to the bottom of this behavior after the party.
Kate can practically read my mind so she whispered in my ear "I love you and have missed you so much. I know what you're probably wondering about and I'll explain later. Just understand that I've missed you so much and I want to make this weekend special for us."
The limo ride into the city took about twenty-five minutes. We got to the party, our company's annual Xmas soiree, and it was just beginning to get underway.
Kate and I work for Vandelay Industries. Its owner and our boss Jake Vandelay's dad, Art, started it as an architectural firm, but later branched out until it became and international conglomerate, you know, Fortune 500 and all that. When Jake inherited, he even bought our local football team!
I'm a "fixer." That's all I'm going to say about my job. Just know that I enlisted in the Marines after high school and got my college degree thanks to Uncle Sam. During my career I served with the RECON unit and later with the Marine Raiders (their special forces). I have a degree in computer science and an MBA. Hence, my special set(s) of skills.
Kate is the Associate VP of Public Relations for Vandelay Industries. Yep, we're a bit of a power couple, but we like to keep a low profile.
After the dinner the wait staff began serving a rather fine champagne for our company gatherings and Jake went to the bandstand and got behind the mic to make his annual speech. He kept it short, as usual, but at the end, he called me up to the bandstand to announce that I'd been promoted to CFO and would now steer a desk "instead of a helicopter or whatever the hell else he has to drive. You all should know that Tim will be based in the home office and will not be traveling that much in the future."
I was well liked at the company, so a round of cheers rang out.
With the formalities out of the way, Jake ordered us all to have fun as long as we wanted, and the band resumed playing.
I dashed back to our table and grabbed Kate. We like to dance. Tim, Jr., likes to joke that we "have the moves like Jagger."
After a few hot numbers, the band slowed it down playing "I Will Always Love You" and a beautiful love song written by the lead singer.
Kate melted into me and it was all I could do not to ravish her right there on the dance floor.
The next song was a Jason Aldean tune that was hot on the radio, but since we're not into bro country we wandered back to our table for a break.
Our friends all complimented us on our moves and we happily finished the bottle of bubbly that Jake had sent to our table.
One thing I've learned in my training and my job is to be aware of my setting in all times.
To my astonishment, I noticed the tight end for our team, Marc LaValliere heading toward our table.
When he first joined the team I became a big fan, but after a few months horrible stories started circulating about him in the papers and online. It seemed that he liked to steal other men's wives away from right under the husband's eyes. I detest that sort of thing. Not only did I begin to despise LaValliere, but I also kept up with the news about him since we worked for the same boss.
I quickly thought that he must be heading toward Kate to ask her to dance since she was clearly the hottest looking woman in the room, hell, probably on the planet. Immediately, I decided "not gonna happen." Before he reached the table I'd already planned his unfortunate demise. I was going to play it cool, but if he pulled any macho shit on me, he'd regret it. Hell, his whole offensive line, who were watching him from the bar, would regret it. I'd taken down tougher, armed, guys in my time. This would be a piece of cake.
To my utter surprise as he approached our table, Kate stood up to greet him with a big hug and kiss on his cheek. After she kissed him she pressed the side of her face against his in the way that she does with our dearest friends and family.
"Kate! I saw you dancing before, please do me the honor."
Ruh Roh!
Kate giggled and responded in her exaggerated Georgia accent "why Mr. LaValliere where I come from, unlike you Yankees, we have mannahs. A gentleman always asks the lady's escort for permission to ask her for a dance."
LaValliere laughed and said "oh please forgive me. I assume this is the famous Tim, your husband."
Kate nodded.
LaValliere turned to me as I stood up. He reached out to shake my hand."
I decided to keep my cool as the whole scene was rather confusing to me, so I thought "let's see where this goes." If he was going to pull one of those monster macho grips on me, he'd regret for the rest of his miserable life, but he didn't. He looked me in the eye with a genuine smile (not a smirk) and introduced himself. We shook hands like men.
He then said "Tim, I'm Marc, may I please request a dance with your beautiful wife."
