This is the way I think I would handle the situation in George Anderson's "February Sucks." It is located at https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks if you have not read it yet. Many thanks to George for giving me permission to try my hand at changing the direction taken by the main character Jim. Story begins on the night of the End of February party. Please don't jump ahead as changes have been made throughout the story.
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We'd reserved a table for ten at the club, and it was a good thing we had. It seems a lot of other people were busy forgetting February, but they weren't too busy to notice the four women in our group. Well five now as Ken and Barbara just showed up, late as usual.
"You're attracting a lot of attention, babe," I whispered to Linda. "You're the most attractive woman in the room, as usual."
"Oh, you." She looked up at me, lightly pressing a soft breast into my arm. "You don't have to say those things, even though I like hearing them."
"But I do have to," I responded. "Truth is truth, after all. You can't have opinions about truth." Yeah, I know that's corny, but neither of us cared just then. She got the point, and glowed even brighter.
Neither of us are great dancers, but we don't disgrace ourselves, either. We just don't care that much: we're out there to enjoy each other, not to provide entertainment. So I danced with the love of my life, with occasional breaks for hot wings and a drink. I had gone to replenish the wings; when I came back, Dave was asking Linda to dance. I heard her response.
"I'd love to, Dave, and I would another time, but I want to make tonight special for Jim and me. I'm only dancing with him tonight."
Was I proud? Happy? You'd better believe it. I distributed the wings and whispered into Linda's ear. "So is it time to leave yet?"
"Right after you brought a fresh plate of wings? What are you thinking? We'll both need our energy for what I have planned." She gave me that look again, and held my hand under the table. 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 was well known for his community activities as for his exploits on the field. He had the reputation of being a genuinely good guy but there had been rumors about him dating married women as well as breaking up some marriages. Here tonight he was holding court for two couples who must have been very good friends. Marc became the main topic of conversation at our table, as the guys talked about his football feats and the women praised his good looks. He was after all single.
"It doesn't hurt that he's a hunk, either," Dee put in. Yea, a 6'4" 280 lbs. hunk.
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, however, looked downward and held my hand a little tighter. She seemed to be breathing fast and looked flushed.
"Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?" He was standing behind Linda's left shoulder, holding his hand out to her.
I felt Linda gasp and her eyes glazed over 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. He led her out to the dance floor.
"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. What the hell just happened?
"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.
"So she doesn't look great with me?"
"Look at how she is smiling. She is really enjoying herself."
"Jane, keep your comments to yourself. You are not helping me at all."
The next song was a slow one. I watched Linda melt into his arms, fitting perfectly as though she belonged there. He was good at that, too. Lots of practice, I'll bet, I thought to myself sourly. Marc said something to Linda; she smiled sweetly as she responded. He wasn't doing anything I could legitimately object to. He didn't dance any closer to her than I danced with Dee or Jane; his hands didn't go anywhere they weren't supposed to.
Another slow song, a ballad this time. I could see the band leader watching my wife and her partner, taking his cues from them. Marc was smiling as he held Linda in his arms; he was clearly pleased with whatever was going on. I'd seen enough. I rose from my chair, and felt Jane's hand on my arm.
"Wait, Jim. Let her have this. Don't ruin it for her."
I jerked my arm free, and then I looked at Linda's face. She clearly wanted to be exactly where she was, and nowhere else. As they danced her eyes fixed on mine for a moment and she seemed like she didn't recognize me. Finally, the song ended. Marc nodded at the band leader, who started a faster song. He and Linda left the dance floor, smiling at each other, but not touching, not even holding hands. Linda gave him a last brilliant smile as she turned toward our table and Marc turned toward his.
The difference between a woman's best smile and her second-best smile isn't much. Unless you know the woman well, you probably wouldn't notice it at all. As Linda neared our table and our eyes met, her best smile faded to her second-best. I knew then that we had a problem. I took her hand and pulled her into my arms, my right index finger holding her head so I could look into her eyes.
"I keep telling you that you're the most attractive woman in here," I whispered in her ear. "I think it is time to do our last dance and head back to our room."
For just the tiniest moment, I could have sworn Linda was afraid. Her eyes widened and I could feel her hand trembling. She got control of her emotions and appeared to relax. As she started to answer my question, Dee interrupted.
"I'm sorry, everyone, I just have to go to the restroom right now. Linda, come with me?" Dee's voice could be heard far beyond our table. I was too preoccupied to wonder why she had to broadcast this to the room at large. Linda looked at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Jim. I can use some freshening up, too." She tried to leave but I held on tight until Jane and Dee pried us apart. Phil stepped between me and Linda, asking me a stupid question about work. Dave put his arm across my shoulders and handed me a fresh drink. Dee and Linda left for the ladies room, without Linda answering my question. Why did I feel this was a setup?
Of course, the conversation immediately turned to why no woman who is out with a group can possibly go to the restroom by herself. I had just started to wonder why my friends were working so hard to keep the conversation going on that topic, when Dee came back. Alone.
"Where's Linda? Is she okay?" I practically shouted.
