February 's Consequences: Whatever it Takes
I know I'm late to the party as I add to this collection of February Sucks redux, sequels, homages etc. But after reading GeorgeAnderson's gutpunch original and losing a couple of nights' sleep, I couldn't help but make my own pass at a re-telling. I've borrowed more than just his premise: there are lines and scenes that I simply couldn't substitute. And the device of Linda's letter, enabling the writer to switch points of view without wrecking the narrative structure, was too good to pass up. I suspect that everybody on this platform has read the original February Sucks, but if you haven't, read it here: https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks
Many thanks to GeorgeAnderson for giving us his classic piece.
This is my first Literotica submission. I have a few more in the hopper and would appreciate your feedback as I work on them.
February's Consequences: Whatever it Takes
It took ten years to build it: the marriage, the family, the world we'd created so lovingly together, a world I shared with a woman and two children I adored. And in a blink of an eye, it came crashing down. It had all turned to ashes.
The worst day of my life started on a high note. It was the leap year day, February 29, and my wife and I were enjoying what we'd come to refer to as our Special Night, an evening on the town with two other couples. The evening had been planned as a rare getaway for us following a bruising winter month of storms and restless kids. We'd arranged a sleepaway party for our two children and two of our friends' kids at the home of Mrs. Porter, an older friend who ran our neighborhood pre-school. And we'd taken a hotel room at the downtown Marriott. We'd be joining our friends for dinner at Scarlatti, our town's best Italian place, followed by dancing at the Madison Club, just two blocks away. The plan was seamless. It would be the perfect evening and God knows, after all the misery of that winter, we deserved it.
The ladies, Linda, Diana Ehrlich and Marina Larsen, had planned the evening with an eye on avoiding the necessity to drive. Linda bought a special dress for the occasion, a lovely, form-fitting blue satin dress that emphasized her long legs and slim figure, flared at the bottom and perfect for dancing. For weeks, talked about our upcoming Special Night" constantly, counting down the days.
It started without a hitch. We dropped off the kids, checked into our room at the Marriot, and met our friends at the restaurant. Since all three of the evening's stops would be within walking distance, we could indulge in a bit more alcohol than we generally allowed ourselves. We ordered a bottle of prosecco for an opening toast, a great bottle of Frascati for the shrimp eaters and a Barolo for the carnivores. The scampi at Scarlatti was amazing. And then we were ready for some dancing.
The six of us took a leisurely walk down Grand Avenue to the Madison Club. It was still cold outside, and Linda walked close beside me, pressing against me for warmth, my arm wrapped around her. We enjoyed the simple act of being pedestrians, of walking together on our downtown streets. Some of the shops were still open and there seemed to a special Friday night energy in the air. The promise of the weekend, the first weekend in March, was upon us. Just a few more weeks until spring.
The Madison is an old chestnut of a place, originally inaugurated as a ballroom in the middle of the last century. It was enjoying a comeback as a hot spot in our town, drawing a mix of young hipsters and older establishment types looking to get loose and let their hair down. There's usually a long line out front, with wanna-be patrons pressed against a velvet rope, but Dave had done some business with one of the managers, so we were assured of getting a good table. On Friday nights, the club featured live music, mostly retro sounds perfect for the kind of dancing we loved to do. Dr. Smooth, one of the most popular local bands in our city was booked to perform that night. We'd danced to their music on other occasions and always enjoyed their mix of tunes.
Linda and I had looked forward to all of it: the restaurant, the club, the company of our good friends. But for me, the main attraction for the evening would come later at the hotel with a long, uninterrupted session of sweet lovemaking. No kids. No cares. Just the two of us together. I was a very lucky guy. After ten years of marriage and two prior years of dating her, the sight of my wife still stirred me. She had been competitive pole vaulter in college, and at age 33, she had managed to stay slim and supple through two pregnancies and the pressures of work and child-rearing. My heart still melted at the sight of her auburn hair, her deep blue eyes and the fullness of her lips when she smiled. When we married, friends told me I was punching above my weight, and I knew they were right.
The Madison Club was crowded and noisy, but Dave's friend came through. We were seated at a great table, perfectly situated next to the dance floor. Without wasting any time, we hit the dance floor for a couple of songs right away. Linda's a great dancer and I could see that people were watching her. She was in great form that night: the way she moved, effortlessly graceful and athletic, and the way she looked in that beautiful blue dress inspired the admiration of strangers and my unbridled lust. The band played a slow song and I delighted in the feel of her body against mine, in the way her hair brushed against my neck, in her smell, an impossibly sexy mix of sweet and musky scent with just the slightest hint of that perfume I gave her at Christmas. We returned to our table and re-joined our friends, squeezing in beside them, six of us crammed around a table best suited for four.
Beneath the tablecloth Linda and I began to play a little footsie. It was something that we did sometimes, stealthily, in the company of other people, like a private joke we shared. My hand slid along the satin fabric of Linda's dress until it reached the hem near her knee. I slipped beneath the dress and began to inch upward along her bare leg, feeling her smooth skin and watching her as she tried to contain her expression. She gave me an admonishing look, more like a wink, really, and tried carrying on her conversation with Diana as if nothing was happening down there. I was obsessed with the smooth strong muscles of her thighs, the way they felt beneath my fingers. She turned to me suddenly and kissed me deeply while my hand reached that nylon covered spot between her legs. My cock hardened as my fingers felt her moistness and heat. It was an amazing turn-on, all the moreso because we needed to conceal it.
I took my lips from hers and whispered in her ear, "maybe time to say good night? " Marina looked at us from across the table. "Hey guys, get a room." Linda smiled broadly but looked just a little bit embarrassed. "There's one waiting for us," I said. If it were up to me, we would have said our good nights and left at that moment. But Linda wanted to wait a little while longer. "We just got here less than an hour ago, Jim," she said in a hushed voice. "We'll have all night, so let's dance a little bit more and maybe have another drink. I'm having such a good time." With her left hand, she gave a gentle pat to my growing erection. "Our friend here can be a just a little patient," she said. Reluctantly, I agreed
.
As we sipped our drinks, Marina's husband, Phillip, leaned over to say he'd spotted a celebrity at a nearby table. We all tried to be discreet as we directed our gaze in that direction. It was Norman Maine, the movie star, who was in our town to shoot a new big-budget action film. The movie production was a big deal in our city: the production trucks and trailers were seen all over our streets, sometime causing traffic to be re-routed. They were using our city hall and our main street as locations and people would gawk at the sight of this or that star at our local restaurants and stores. "Isn't that the actor from that old show, what was it called?" someone would say. We lived in a relatively small Northwest city, and it was a thrill to have showbiz people on our streets.
The conversation at our table turned to our vacation plans for the summer and then Marina mentioned she'd recently seen one of Norman Maine's early action films. "You know, he's famous for doing a lot of his own stunts," she said. "And you have to admit that he looks hot with his shirt off."
It was just a few moments later, as if she had conjured him, that Norman Maine suddenly appeared at the front of our table.
The lighting at the Madison was soft and flattering, a warm light that poured down from rows of overhead chandeliers, very much in keeping with the retro theme of the club's décor. The lighting was designed to make everybody look good, but it made the movie star face of Norman Maine look God-like, accentuating the strong jaw, the full lips, the chiseled features that have been projected on giant screens and drawn the adulation of millions of fans around the world. He appeared in front of our table like Adonis made flesh.
Maine smiled, that million-dollar smile, leaned over, and complimented Linda on her dancing. Extending his hand, he asked my wife if she would join him on the floor. Linda looked flustered and a little starstruck as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the parquet dance floor. She looked at me and shrugged apologetically. "I'll be right back," she said as she rose.
The other two ladies at our table looked on admiringly, with just a hint of envy. Diana turned to Marina with a wide-eyed expression, "Wow," she said. "Norman Maine. He's even better looking in person. People Magazine named him the `sexiest man in the world' last year, and now our own Linda is dancing with him." Diana and Marina both picked up their phones and began to video the scene on the dance floor. I noticed that a few other people--strangers--were doing the same. I mused that everything that guy did in life was recorded by somebody, but it was strangely disturbing to see my wife playing a bit part in his very public life.
I dismissed a twinge of jealousy because, after all, it was harmless. Linda had good reason to be flattered by the attentions of this man, a star who could easily have had his pick of any woman in that crowded room. In a way I was proud that the woman he chose was my wife, the woman with whom I'd soon be sharing a more intimate, all-night embrace.
