February Sucks Adult Fairy Tales

"Everybody's doing it," Dee chided my husband, Jim.

Jim protested, "No way. And just because other people do it, that's not a reason."

"Try it," Dee kept going. "You might find it strangely erotic."

Jim argued, "I've heard of guys cheating who don't tell their wives. I never heard of a guy telling his wife it's OK to have an affair, no matter who the other man is."

Dee's husband, Dave, chuckled and said, "Jim, you are a relic. If you trusted Linda, you'd let her have a pass once a year to explore her sexuality. Do you think only men have a sexual appetite, or have the capacity to cheat?"

Jim turned a bit red with embarrassment and stayed silent, which spoke volumes right there. Finally Jim said, "Don't tell me your 'I know a guy' story as though it proves the new normal or what's common or universal."

"Well I know a guy," Paul chortled loudly. Paul was never trying to offend but he was frequently over the line. Everyone else, except Jim and myself, started laughing. There were four of us couples at our annual Fairy Tale dinner dance, and all six of the other people understood the joke. Jim tried to cover his sheepish grin with his hand. Apparently I was the only one in the dark.

I turned to my left, to speak across Phil to Dee, who was my best friend. I asked Dee, "What's the joke? What is it I'm not getting?"

Phil leaned back as I tilted over but he placed his arm on the back of my chair, which let his hand touch my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Paul, on my other side, was more overt and he reached over to lay a hand squarely on the middle of my back. Paul said, "It's OK, Linda, we're just teasing Jim. You know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

I didn't know if that was idle chatter. We never went to Vegas. Except Jim went to a bachelor party in Vegas last year.

I asked Dee again, "What's the joke?" She was supposed to defend me.

Dee reached her hand across to mine. She said, "Don't get yourself all worked up over nothing. The point is that Jim is too possessive. What might be a little indiscretion or flirtation for him would be an outrage if he knew it happened for you."

Dee's words did not comfort me. I looked down at my blue sequin dress, one I had bought months in advance and tailored at the custom shop and then worked on myself for hours to make it look perfect on my body. Jim and I had a tradition each year that I would prepare a special dress for our annual Tell a Fairy Tale dinner but I wouldn't let him see it until we came out for the date. Some fairy tale. Our perfect marriage of honesty and commitment was just a fairy tale I had been telling myself.

Dismay rushed over me like a wave. My face was flush and hot, and it made my head swoon. A tear drop fell and splattered on a sequin of my dress.

I lifted my napkin to clean my face. I patted my eyes and dabbed my mouth. The vertigo did not abate. Throwing my napkin on top of my beef wellington and asparagus, I got up to visit the bar. I could not even look at Jim as I left.

The thought came to me to run up to our room. Each year our package included a room at the Madison hotel and this dinner dance at the Morrison's club on floors one and two of the hotel. The dinner was Friday night and the package included a breakfast buffet back at Morrison's on Saturday morning. I would have exited to my room if Dee had not come running over behind me. Before I ordered a drink, Dee grabbed my elbow and cornered me at the end of the bar.

"Linda, why are you so upset?"

"This is supposed to be our special night out. We went to all this effort, renting a room and leaving our kids to stay overnight with my mother. Before we were married, we made Valentine's Day our best date of the year. After we met all of you, that romance turned into this annual dinner dance. Our fairy tale continued. I don't know if that's what they meant when they created the "Tell a Fairy Tale" holiday. But for us it was living a fairy tale."

"February sucks," Dee proclaimed.

"It sucks this year."

"You know it's not only the weather," Dee tried to console me. "Most people can't live up to the premise of Valentine's Day. They sit home alone. Some women send themselves flowers at the office to mask the depression. The fairy tale is like a second chance. Especially for married couples."

"You're not making it any better."

"Linda, you're over-reacting. Don't ruin your night out."

"Dee, I feel like you betrayed me here. What an embarrassment. Everyone at the table, except me, knows what happened, whatever it is. I still don't know! You're all laughing about it. It's like you all laughed in my face."

Dee's hands played nervously with the pearl necklace hanging on her chest. She bit her lip momentarily. Her deep brown eyes looked mournful. "Everyone assumed Jim had told you by now. The two of you always brag about how you share everything. Really, Jim should be the one to tell you."

The bartender was preoccupied with a group of young college students at the other end or I would have cut Dee off. I did not want to look in her face either. I said, "Obviously Jim has not told me and he had no intention to tell me. If you consider yourself my friend, you'll tell me now. And don't lie to me, Dee."

Dee gulped. She said, "It was no big thing, Linda. At the bachelor party they had strippers doing lap dances and one of the girls let Jim feel her up."

"What does that mean, feel her up? Did he stick part of his body into any of her orifices?"

"Technically, I suppose," Dee shared. "He might have stuck his finger in between her legs and diddled her a bit."

I felt like throwing up. My stomach jumped as if it flipped on itself inside my body. What a fool I've been. I mean, if he was doing that, then what else has he done while continuing the lie to me? And Dee, and Jane and Paul have all been lying. Paul always seemed like the least trustworthy and he turned out to be the most honest.

Dee said, "Listen, I'm going to freshen up in the restroom and I suggest you do the same."

I turned to order that drink and I bumped right into the huge, hulking frame of a young man. A large, barrel chest that was broader than my outstretched hand. Chiseled brow and chin with two days worth of a beard.

"Oh, pardon me," I said humbly. I looked up into those large, blue eyes and I was lost. My breath caught in my throat and I was unable to speak.

"No, pardon me," he said. He had a deep, rolling voice that resonated around me like a bear hug. "I should have announced my presence before coming next to you. My, my, why all the tears? That must be someone dear to make you unleash all this emotion."

"Yes, pretty much," I stammered. He lifted a paper napkin from the stack on the bar and dabbed a tear off my cheek. Instinctively, I raised my hand to his chest, a gesture to stop him but it didn't come out that way. My hand laid gently on his chest and moved in the slowest swipe back and forth, testing the firmness of his muscles.

He put his hand over mine, holding them both to his chest. His hand was probably twice the size of mine and his palm covered my fingers, yet he was gentle. My fingers were wrapped in the smooth, warm blanket of his grasp and rising softly with his breath.

He said, "I think my heart skipped a beat when you touched me. Did you feel it? I'm completely smitten."

His face lowered toward mine and I could only see his eyes and nose and mouth. It's the kind of space you share with a lover on the pillow. But I was not nervous about this intimacy. His breath had the most subtle caress to my ear and I smelled the deep, masculine musk of his body. His presence put me at ease.

His thumb roved down across my nose and cheek, removing the itch of a tear drop. His thumb fit into the corner of my eye and nose and instantly our bodies meshed, the way my torso would meld into my husband in bed. All the frustration dissipated from my body. I had never felt such a sudden transition. An electricity rose between my legs and I swear I could feel it hit my womb.

The sensation was so overwhelming, I had not noticed that his other hand was now on the small of my back, supporting my frame and providing a physical comfort. His leg was positioned between my thighs, not touching me there but glancing against my thighs so that I felt it there.

"He must be some fool to make you mad," the man whispered.

"Hmmm, I think I was the fool," I shared.

"You're the most beautiful woman in this place. Like a dream. Are you filming a movie?"

"Hardly," I rejected his flattery. "It's national fantasy day and Morrison's holds a dinner dance we attend each year."

"I'm sorry I missed that before. What is fantasy day?"

"Fairy tale day, I meant. It's national Tell a Fairy Tale Day. That's what I meant to say."

"I believe you. You look like a princess who felt a pea under your mattress, or maybe there's a carriage outside about to become a pumpkin. But for me, I think you said it right. You're like a fantasy come true."

He leaned down and kissed me before I knew what was happening. His hand on my back lifted my entire frame like I was the proverbial rag doll in his arm. My lips smacked on his and I took it. I loved it. He owned my attention and it was all I could do not to faint as I kissed him and licked his tongue that pressed into my mouth. I wondered for the moment if this was all my imagination and I might wake up to Dee pouring water on my face or waving smelling salts under my nose.

My thighs parted to embrace his leg to my core. As his knee nudged against my mound, a shock wave rose within me and I craved for him to sweep me away. My thigh edged outward and felt the meat of his manhood through the fabric of his pants and my dress. Although my dress was sheer, the many ruffles falling out in pleats from the waist put a lot of fabric between the two of us, making it all the more certain from the contact that he was hard and he was large. Some guttural instinct caused me to move my leg back and forth, to clear the fabric, and feel better the full extent of him.

As his one hand held me up where my toes were barely touching the floor, his other hand swept down over my bottom and then forward up my thigh. Oh, how I wanted him to keep going. I wanted him to press his hand with all its pamper and power between my legs and provide the satisfaction that my body desired. I wanted him to push his fingers into my panties and thrust his fingers inside of me. My vagina was driving my desire and prevented any logical argument I could think.

But he didn't give me that satisfaction. He lifted his lips from mine and looked into my eyes.

He said, "You've carried me away and I want this but I want us both to be sure of what we're doing. Think about this and when you return to your table, I'm going to find you and ask you to dance. And then we'll dance a few songs and you'll have a second chance to confirm what we felt for each other."

I laid my hand on my chest to gather my composure. Before turning to the bathroom, I sized up the hulk who just swept into my life. He was about six feet tall and over 200 pounds but not an ounce of flab on him. Perfectly proportioned and athletic. There was no way to compare him to Jim because this was some kind of demi-god walking amongst us mortals.

In the bathroom, Dee was completing a line of her lipstick. I ran to the sink and splashed water in my face. Dee laughed.

"I hope you had a minute to get yourself together," Dee said.

"Yes and no," I conceded.

"Well, take another minute. And when you feel like you can rejoin our group and step back into the happy marriage you enjoyed, then forget the last fifteen minutes as if it never happened. You'll be the better for it."

Dee walked out of the bathroom and left me stranded again. I was realizing how individual my journey has been. For all these years of friends or spouse attesting to their undying support, their true intent was to advance their own perspective and for their own benefit. Here I was, alone at the ceramic altar.

I gazed at my face in the mirror. I dried the water with one of the folded towels they provide in this upscale club. I patted the dampness from the top of my dress and neck. My face had not suffered too much from all this commotion. My hair was still perfectly styled from the salon. The ribbons of blonde curls cascaded down to my shoulders and complemented the shimmering blue dress. My lipstick only needed the slightest touch from that wondrous kiss.

Somehow I beat Dee back to the table. They had cleared all the entrees. It was my fault for throwing my napkin on top even though I was still hungry. I forced myself to look over to Jim, though emotionally I wanted to avoid him. I knew it was a test for myself. His face was worried and genuine, and I saw the usual concern that I loved and made me feel loved. Jim was a good man and he did not deserve the indiscretion I just surrendered at the bar. It was not about him. It was about another man who penetrated all of my defenses like a key fitting a lock.

Dee returned to the table and sized up the faces staring at me and staring at her. She took a sip of water, which made me thirsty to drink.

Dave asked Dee, "Are you OK? You were gone for a while and I was worried you got sick. I was about to send a search party."

She made a little show of leaning far toward the center of the table to keep her voice low where only the couples at our table could hear. "No problem. I was talking with Linda. I assured her that Jim wanted to bare his soul with her, and we're all friends here, and both Linda and Jim should know that we won't judge. He can speak freely. Right, Jim?"

Jim seemed surprised to be singled out but he should've known that this group of friends would not let him off.

Jim raised his champagne glass to make a toast. He said, "Linda, you are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight. Your blue dress is scintillating with the kindness of your heart and the spirit of your inner voice. There is nothing in the world that could shake my love and devotion for you. Nothing, past or future, could possibly change what we have nor diminish the worship we share for each other."

Jim raised his glass again and took a sip. Paul said, "hear, hear" and took a swig but I thought he was drunk. All the others interpreted Jim's words as I had, and they did not join his toast. There was nothing wrong with the words, if they would have been stated with sincerity, but he avoided talking about his incident or admitting what he did.

Phil was more of a gentleman. He turned to me and said, "Linda, would you be so kind as to let me have this dance. Since Jim has offered this favor, and expressed his love for you without any jealousy, then I'm sure he won't mind if you give me this dance."

"Phil, I know we all dance with each other," I answered, "but I promised myself that tonight was going to be all for Jim. Our tenth anniversary is coming soon, and I was making this weekend getaway a kind of rejuvenation, like when we were teenagers and dating for the first time or when we had just married and about to start a family. I'm getting myself recalibrated now. It's like renewing our vows."

Dee interrupted me and said, "Jim, you should think carefully. I expected you were going to say something else. Then you surprised me because you had this change of heart. You kind of opened the door. Maybe you meant that or maybe you didn't know. How would you feel about Phil dancing with your wife?"

"Phil is an old friend," Jim smiled. "I trust him as much as I trust Linda, and no harm would come from it.

Dee wouldn't let it go. She leaned in again and spoke very sharply to Jim. "Think before you talk. I saw a man over by the bar who was checking out your wife. Not just any man. Marc LaValliere."

Jim looked incredulous. "Marc, Laval...I've heard that name before. Who is he?"

Dee said, "Really? I thought you'd be more current on the pro athletes, even ones that play for other cities. Marc is the star hockey player that won the Stanley Cup last year. And what a hunk. I doubt there's a woman in the room who won't recognize him on sight."

It was funny Dee said that because I didn't recognize him. But now it all made sense. Maybe I was standing so close that he looked different.

Dave said, "Let's see. Point him out for us, Dee."

"I'll let you know," Dee replied. "But I have to warn you, anything might happen. Marc is a must do. Like an instant orgasm. You would have to grant me permission."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dee's husband complained.

Dee gave a silly bobble to her head like she had to simplify it for a second grader. "It means that Marc could have any woman he wants, single or married. He'd only have to look at a woman and she'd melt in his arms."

"Dee, you're embarrassing me," Dave insisted. "Why are you professing this infatuation for Marc LaValliere?"

"We all know what you say when you're alone with the guys. You see Jennifer Lawrence on the TV and start the banter, 'I'd do her man. I'd give anything to have that for one night.'" Dee gave a grunt and hip thrust to mock his Neanderthal attitude. She went on, "I kind of understand. If one of those Victoria's Secret models walked over here, grabbed your arm and said, 'Take me now, lover boy!' it'd be wrong for me to stop you."

"Wow, I never knew you'd go that far," Dave admitted. "This Marc LaValliere, you'd screw him if he asked you?"

"There's not a woman in the room who wouldn't trade everything in her life for that chance. If he looked my way, I'd bend over the table here and now and drop my panties."

"Oh, Dee, you're so vulgar," I chastised her.

Paul stuck up for her, "I agree with Dee. Ten minutes ago we were chiding Jim about a hall pass, even if we meant the pass as a brief diversion, like a friendly thing to get it out of your system. There are some people who are special and irresistible. Accept that your partner will succumb to the temptation if they are lucky enough to have it happen. Actually, you should be flattered if a star finds your spouse attractive. Right, Kathy?"

Kathy was silent but curled her face, like she had put up with a lot from Paul on lesser beings than a movie star. But maybe I underestimated her in assuming that Paul was the philanderer in their relationship.

Phil turned to Jane across from him. "Jane, what do you say about this Marc LaValliere? He has a bad reputation as a ladies man. Love them and leave them. A slip in every port to dock his boat. Would you have sex with him?"

Jane hesitated, she gave a sigh, and then a nod. "Yes, Phil, to be honest I would. If Marc LaValliere looked to me, he could have me any way he wanted."

"Anything?" Phil asked. "He might take pictures of your degrading acts. You'd risk your job, your marriage, your kids, your friends for one night?"

"Anything!" Jane insisted.

Jim surprised me by inserting himself to this conversation. He said, "Talk is cheap and we never know the strength of our conviction until we face the temptation. But I would never embarrass my Linda like that."

I fought the tears. Must he continue to poke this open wound? I tried to settle the conversation with a diplomatic phrase. "Respect is a virtue that should be renewed every day. I hope that I would never compromise my spouse, or my friends, through a public display of impropriety."

I looked across to my right, and I felt instantly like fate was driving my every move. My eyes went directly to Marc's piercing gaze from where he stood by a long table of twenty people at the far end of the room. I was abashed and dropped my eyes to stare at my lap. It was him. It was Marc LaValliere.

I heard Dee without looking up. She said, "Dave, you'll get your chance to prove your love and devotion to me. My hunk is making a beeline for me now."