February Sucks Consequences 2

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.

I thought she'd be back after one dance, but then there was another, and then there was a slow dance. I began to feel anxious. I started to get up with the intention of cutting into their dance when Marina reached across the table and patted my hand. "Let her have this, Jim. It's a once-in-a life-time experience. It's OK." I leaned back in my chair. They were slow dancing again, and half the club was watching them, the movie star and the local lady. I was watching too, warily, assuring myself that Mr. Hollywood's hands were not drifting where they didn't belong.

Linda seemed flushed when she finally returned to our table. She smiled at Marina and Diana, but looked away to avoid my gaze. "I have to freshen up," she said. Without even taking her seat, she was off to the ladies' room, inviting her friend Diana to join her.

For the past four months, I've played those moments back in my mind, running them forward and backward like an old video copy of a bad movie. Each and every time I've replayed the scene, a mix of outrage and loss has risen like bile in the core of my body. I've wanted to forget the details as much as I've been compelled to remember them. I'm still not quite clear on how, between the fleeting moments between the dancing and the getaway, Linda had enlisted Diana as an accomplice in her deceit, what signal prompted Diana to accompany her on her fateful trip to the ladies' room.

Linda had been gone for almost ten minutes when Diana returned alone, telling me that Linda had something to take care of. It seemed strange. I gave her a questioning look, but didn't say anything just yet. I figured I'd find out what she meant as soon as Linda returned. Marina's husband, Phillip hailed a waitress, and I ordered another scotch. Diana and Marina ordered a pitcher of Cosmpolitans.

As the minutes passed, I kept checking my watch. Five minutes. Ten. And now I was worried. It just wasn't like her to take so much time in the ladies' room. I rose from the table and headed to the bar near the rest rooms entrance. I approached one of the bartenders.

The young female bartender was washing some glasses as I approached. "Excuse me, but my wife went to the restroom about 20 minutes ago and hasn't come out. She never takes that long. Could you please go, or send someone, to be sure she's all right?" Nervously, I pulled up a photo on my phone "Let me show you her picture. Her name is Linda." The bartender was peering over the bar to look at my phone when I felt a tap on my back and heard a voice at my elbow.

It was Diana. She took me by the arm as she spoke to the bartender. "She's all right, you don't need to check on her. Everything's fine. I'll take care of this." The bartender shrugged and went back to her work. I was at a loss to understand what Diana was doing. "What's going on? Where's my wife? " I asked.

Diana drew close and whispered softly into my ear. "Jim, she's not in the restroom. Linda has left the club." "Left? Without me? Why? What's going on? Where did she go? Is she all right?" I still didn't get it.

"Let's go to the end of the bar where there's some privacy." Confused and apprehensive, I allowed Diana to pull me by the hand past a row of bar stools. It was quieter in the dark corner at the end of the bar. I stared at Diana wide-eyed, not comprehending the situation. Diana is an unreserved woman, compulsively flirtatious, with long legs, a beautifully tight round ass and breasts that are disproportionately large for her small frame. Her chin is a bit weak and her nose a bit too broad for her to be conventionally beautiful, but she is undeniably sexy and she flaunts her sensuality in ways that are often a bit over the top. I'd know her husband Dave since our school years, and Linda considered Diana were close, but truth is, I never really liked her. She's a superficial status-seeker, a shameless flirt and chronic gossip-monger. At that moment, she was attempting to turn on her seductive charm but I wasn't having it. I was impatient and uncomfortable as we seated ourselves on the stools.

She looked me in the eye and spoke in soothing, carefully measured tones, a little less husky than her usual affected voice. Her smile was intended to be kindly and sympathetic but it was forced, and it added to my unease.

"Jim, Linda loves you. She loves you and the children more than anything else in the world, but she is spending tonight with Norman Maine." At first, I couldn't make sense of what she was saying and then the words hit me like an electric shock. I stood there with my mouth open, looking stupid as a series of pictures began to whirl madly through my mind. There's Linda earlier tonight showing me her beautiful blue dress. Linda at dinner. Linda looking lovingly at me as we sat down at the club table. And then, Linda dancing in that motherfucker's arms. Linda returning to the table and lying to my face. Linda walking toward the ladies' room. Anger and disbelief surged through my body.

"I don't believe it," I said, my voice rising. "Linda would never do something like this. If she left with that Hollywood mucky-muck, she must have been forced. We should call the police." I wasn't rational. Reason and rationality were a long way away.

As I reached into my pocket for my phone, Diana gently but firmly took my arm.

"Jim, you have to calm down. She wasn't forced. This is something that Linda wanted to do. She's living out a fantasy, a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I know it's coming as a shock, but she made me promise to make sure you knew that she'd be home tomorrow and that she loves you deeply. She asked me to ask you to please understand."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Understand? I'm supposed to understand that my wife just picked up, snuck out of this club and left me some for some Hollywood guy after ten years of marriage.? And this was supposed to be our Special Night. After ten years of marriage, she pulls something like this?? Are you out of your fucking mind?" I glared at Diana as I growled. "She didn't even have the guts to tell me to my face that she was leaving me." I was getting loud, and I didn't care who heard me. People nearby turned to watch.

"Please settle down, people are looking at you," Diana said. "Listen, I know this hurts for you, but you're making way too big a deal out of it. She hasn't left you. It's only tonight. It's Norman Maine, for god's sake. She'll come back to you tomorrow and everything will be just like it was before. You'll have a lifetime of Special Nights together." My disbelief was turning to outrage and disgust. If this woman really believed that shit, she was out of her fucking mind.

My eyes narrowed as I faced her and spit out my words, "So, my dear friend, what was your role in all this? You didn't really need to go to the restroom, did you? My wife gave you some signal, right? She told you to stall me and keep me out of the way long enough for her and Mr. Hollywood to make their getaway?"

"Yes, she asked me to do that, because she didn't want you to embarrass yourself by making a scene while Norman was here," said Diana. "Like I said, she asked me to make sure you remembered that she loves you, and she'll be home tomorrow."

"Did it ever occur to you, my dear friend, to remind her that she had a husband and a marriage she was tossing away like a used tissue?"

Diana looked me in the eye. "No, it didn't, because I know she won't lose you over this. You're too good a man to let that happen. I told her how lucky she is. She's lucky because the man that every woman in the room wanted, a man most women fantasize about, wanted her; but she's even luckier that she has a husband who loves her enough to get past his hurt feelings and not make this a bigger deal than it should be. It's just one night, a once-in-a-lifetime experience for her, compared to all the years and all the love you two have together. It isn't a big deal unless you make it one. I know she'll make it up to you. I know that eventually, you'll be fine."

Diana moved closer, subtly lifting her breasts toward my sightline, taking my arms in her hands and dropping her voice half an octave. "And for tonight, why don't you dance with me. Let's make the most of it. Let me take your mind off this. Dave won't mind if we spend some time on the dance floor together." She inched even closer as she spoke until her breasts brushed against my shoulder.

It took every ounce of will power to contain my anger. It was all I could do not to grab her and shake her until her teeth rattled. I shook her hands off my arms and took a step backward. "Don't touch me. I still can't fucking believe she would do this. And if she did, there's no fucking way she could make this up to me. no way she could make this right. And you helped her do this. You've helped destroy my marriage."

"Don't be like that, Jim. I'm sorry it's so sudden, but I know you're going to realize that it really isn't such a big deal. Linda will be home tomorrow and the two of you will be fine. Come dance with me now."

I looked at Diana with narrowing, tear-filled eyes. "Fuck you, Diana. You're an insensitive bitch," I turned on my heel and walked away as I reached for my phone. I texted Linda as I wandered through the club, searching for her. Maybe she was still somewhere in the room. "Linda, I can't believe what Diana has just told me. I can't believe you would willingly do this. Are you OK? Should I call the police? I'll be waiting for you at the table. Please, please come back right away or tell me what I should do."