This story was published then rejected, for technical reasons. so no "anonymous" it is not stolen.
As of this day i have read 783 different versions of the story "February Sucks " by George Anderson. https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks
Mr. Anderson is a fine writer and so are many of the others, I thought I should throw in my version of a different ending. I have messaged Mr. Anderson but received no reply. I hope he does not get angry with me.
There is no sex in this story.
It starts when the group notices Marc at the club. please be kind I don't write for a living, just enjoyment.
FEBRUARY KICKS ASS
Morrison's
A few minutes later, the band took a break. In the relative quiet, we could hear loud laughter from another table, and turned to look.
"Hey, isn't that Marc LaValliere?" Phil was craning around me to see.
"It is, it is!" Dee squealed excitedly. Marc LaValliere was the star tight end on our city's football team. Unlike many others on the team, he made his year-round home here. He had the reputation of being a genuinely good guy, and he was as well known for his community activities as for his exploits on the field. Marc became the main topic of conversation at our table, as the guys talked about his football feats and the women praised his good works and good nature.
"It doesn't hurt that he's a hunk, either," Dee put in. Linda and I both knew who he was, but we weren't very interested in anything besides each other just then. We let the conversation wash over us, holding hands under the table.
"Hey, you two, get a room!" Linda and I looked at each other. We hadn't even been kissing. Well, not really kissing, anyway. My feeding her wings (so she wouldn't get sauce on her new dress, of course) didn't count. Besides, we'd already gotten a room. We were saved from further embarrassment when the band started again.
"Shall we dance here, or upstairs?" I whispered to Linda. Before she could reply, Jane interrupted.
"Look! He's coming this way!" Sure enough, Marc LaValliere had left his table and was heading for ours. I was amused by the reaction of the women at our table. Four of them primped and strutted, all but saying "pick me, pick me!" If you think a woman can't strut while she's sitting down, you have a lot to learn. Linda looked downward, and held my hand a little tighter.
"Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?" He was standing behind Linda with a hand on her right shoulder, holding his other hand out to her.
I felt Linda gasp as she dropped my hand as if it were a hot potato. I watched dumbstruck as she turned her back to me, gave Marc her right hand (it almost disappeared in his big paw) and gracefully rose from her chair.
"Hey, man, now my feelings are hurt. I thought she was just dancing with you tonight." Dave smiled as he needled me.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," I groused.
"Relax, Jim. It's just a dance." Jane tried to soothe me. I tried to believe her, but I couldn't help having a bad feeling about this.
The band played a couple of fast songs, and our whole table watched them dance. So did everyone else in the room. Marc was good, far better than I was, and Linda was clearly enjoying herself. Her partner and her dress combined to show her off to perfection.
"Don't they look great together? Come on, Jim, let's join them," Dee invited, clearly trying to distract me.
"Thanks, but no."
[my ending]
The next song was a slow one. I watched Linda melt into his arms.
I stood and said "THAT'S ENOUGH!"
Dee quickly grabbed my arm and said, "Don't be stupid. It's only a dance."
"IT'S OVER NOW!!!" I roared as I headed toward the dance floor.
Walking up to my wife I asked "May I cut in?"