I need to begin with an acknowledgement to GeorgeAnderson for graciously granting me permission to write my own, alternative version of his story. Since I'm not going to cut and paste from his story and his story has become a classic, I recommend that you read it
HERE
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I begin in the middle, but encourage readers to not presume that this story is predicated on everything that happened at the club and earlier being exactly the same. Some of the names have been adapted but the characters and events have been changed to falsely impugn the innocent.
I was perplexed by the blue bra and panty being left on the bed. GeorgeAnderson had one explanation. I offer an alternative explanation that affects the premise of the plot.
Warning! This story includes graphic depictions of extramarital and intramarrital sex!
If this subject offends you, don't read this story.
Warning! This story includes statistical calculations. If this subject offends you, don't read this story.
*****
Jim was almost amazed that he had dozed off again when he was awakened by the sensation of an intense, involuntary ejaculation. He was not just amazed but ashamed. It had been years since he'd had a wet dream. His humiliating circumstances and his lingering recollection of the details of his erotic dream made his nocturnal ejaculation all the more shameful.
The volume and duration of Jim's somnolent ejaculation was rather impressive, at least for him. It should be. He hadn't made love to his wife since Valentines weekend and he was getting to an age when he seldom masturbated anymore. Thanks to the demands of their careers and their children, not to mention the common marital complacency, they'd once again allowed the fact that Linda was still menstruating to become a pretext to neglect their customary, romantic interlude last weekend. There had been a time when they would have eagerly exploited the opportunity to make love with at least minimal risk and perhaps no reservations or restraint. While they didn't restrict themselves to their Saturday night or Sunday afternoon ritual, their often monotonous sexual routine was frequently all that disrupted the comfortable complacency that had in the not so distant past allowed them to become almost celibate. His testicles had been laboring for two weeks to produce the sperm that were now soaking uselessly into the sheets and the mattress pad.
Unfortunately; Jim was not amazed to find himself alone in the king size bed in their suite at the Madison Hotel. His wife had not yet returned to him. It was still dark outside. A glance at his cellphone on the nightstand confirmed that Linda hadn't phoned or texted him since that brief, cryptic message assuring him that the blizzard had not prevented her from finally arriving safely at her destination at almost one o'clock in the morning. He had been to angry and to determined to get drunk to respond. His phone informed him that it wasn't quite yet seven o'clock. For only a moment, Jim insanely rationalized that he couldn't reasonably expect her to return to him until noon. Bullshit! His wife never should have ventured off for her assignation.
The half empty pint of whiskey on the nightstand beckoned to Jim. He had bought the pint along with a six pack of cola at that little liquor store that he had noticed while he, his wife and their friends had been walking the one block from the Madison hotel to the dance club. He had returned to the liquor store seeking bottled solace after his attempted pursuit to confront his wayward wife and her paramour had culminated in a humiliating defeat. Jim wasn't much of a drinker, but he hadn't been stupid enough to buy from the bottom shelf. Frugality and practicality had dissuaded him from buying from the top shelf. The half dozen empty cola cans on the floor would have confirmed that he'd imbibed far to heavily from the middle shelf bottle even if he wasn't being tortured by a hang over.
Jim reached for the bottle and uncapped it. He took a swig without any mixer to dilute the whiskey. It burned, but he took another swig anyway. The hair of the dog that had bitten him eased his hangover, but the pain of betrayal remained. The liquor also failed to dull the lingering images of the erotic nightmare that had evoked his ejaculation.
As Jim set the liquor bottle back down on the nightstand, his attention was once again drawn to Linda's CycleBeads. Linda hadn't been here last night to perform her habitual ritual. The marker ring was still on the ninth bead rather than the tenth. The marker ring was on the second of the white beads on the string rather than the third. The obvious implications of Linda's CycleBeads provoked a painful writhing in Jim's guts and groin. He tried to rationalize that perhaps some vestige of fidelity might have motivated his wife to reserve that one, most critical, marital prerogative for her husband. Unfortunately; his forlorn hope that his cheating wife might have remembered such practicalities was overwhelmed by the absurdity of expecting her womanizing paramour to exercise restraint.
Jim took another swig of whiskey before glancing at his cellphone again. It was now a quarter to seven in the morning, Saturday, February Twenty-ninth. It was another Leap Day. It was also Jim's birthday. Jim could argue that technically, today was only his eighth birthday rather than his thirty-second. For a moment Jim was angry that his philandering wife hadn't at least texted him to wish him a happy birthday.
A frantic exploration of the bathroom and sitting room confirmed that there was no evidenced that Linda had returned to their suite then went somewhere else while he was asleep. His wife had not belatedly repented. In their outrageous attempts to rationalize Linda's adultery, Dee and Jane had assured him that it would be just one night. Their husbands Dave and Phil had endorsed the women's bizarre reasoning. Tom and Tammy as well as Jack and Jennifer had also been unsympathetic to his humiliating plight.
As his erection waned, Jim walked over to the window. He had purposely reserved a room on the top floor of the Madison hotel so that he and Linda could enjoy the spectacular view of the bucolic farms beyond the freeway from the floor to ceiling window without sacrificing their privacy. He had showered just a few hours ago as much as an effort to distract himself from his angst as to rinse away the evidence that he had vomited on himself. The prospect of a romantic weekend to celebrate his birthday as well as belatedly celebrate Valentines Day had dissuaded him from packing pajamas. He had slept in the nude, but without the erotic comfort of his spouse. He was completely naked, depending on distance and anonymity to protect his modesty. Of course the Madison hotel being the biggest hotel in a small town, was only five stories tall. Someone might recognize that he was naked and maybe even recognize him or deduce what room he was in. He no longer gave a shit about his modesty much less propriety.
The blizzard had reintensified during the night. While he had been busy drinking himself to sleep last night, a warm front had been moving through to temporarily transform the snow into sleet and freezing rain. A cold front had pushed back in to deposit perhaps another foot or so of snow on top of the glacis of ice that armored yesterday's foot of snow.