Like a number of authors, GeorgeAnderson's
February Sucks
(
https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks
) had a profound effect on my imagination. I had started other stories, but it was the impetus of GeorgeAnderson's story that got me to finish my first stories. I understand that some readers are tiring of the number of sequels being offered to
February Sucks
, but it clearly still is a force driving the creativity of some authors.
One of my criticisms of sequels to many stories is that authors unhappy with the conclusion of a story substantially change the rules that the original author placed upon the world they created. In my sequels here, I try to accept the assumptions of GeorgeAnderson's world. I try to follow the Improv principle of "Yes, and...."
A thing that I am always interested in, that is sometimes lost in stories in the Loving Wives category, is the point of view of the women involved. GeorgeAnderson's original story is told almost entirely from Jim's point of view. We hear Linda's words as related to Jim, both through her dialogue and her letter, but we can't really get into her thoughts. This story focuses on Linda's view of the encounter from just before Marc asks her to dance until she returns home. I was curious about what happened to Linda -- in part for the eroticism of the events (this is an erotic literature site) and because I felt like I needed to understand what Linda had done to assess how far she needed to recover to justify the forgiveness Jim offered in the original story.
One of the main criticisms of GeorgeAnderson's story is Linda's behavior in leaving her husband at the club. While this might be unusual, multiple commenters on the original story presented knowledge of women leaving their loved ones in similar situations to spend time with either the famous or powerful. Multiple women have noted that Bill Clinton had a certain magnetism in-person, and that they would have considered leaving their escorts to go with him. So even though we don't like Linda's behavior, and it might be an extreme in its implementation, it isn't unprecedented. So, this story accepts that Linda did do what GeorgeAnderson suggested she did -- she left the husband she loved on a special date night to have sex with a handsome, virile, famous man.
Another thing that I accepted was Linda's statement that Marc treated her respectfully and politely, even if what he did was not respectful of her husband.
Last is that this story is based on Linda's letter to Jim that he requested she write to outline her betrayal (It starts at the bottom of Page 3:
https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks?page=3
). I accepted that Linda was being as truthful as she felt she could be and still protect Jim from the depth of her enthusiastic participation in her encounter with Marc.
Where I used GeorgeAnderson's words, I have presented those in
italics
.
##########
Linda relates the events:
We were out with friends for a special night celebrating Leap Night at the end of a difficult February. I had bought a new, blue dress specifically for my husband, Jim, and I planned a night of loving with him like we hadn't had since before the kids were born. Everything about the night was sexually charged. Every statement was an inuendo and every touch was foreplay.
Jim and I had been dancing and had just returned to the table to catch our breath.
We walked off the dance floor with me clinging to Jim's arm, looking up into his eyes, feeling as happy and as in love as I had ever been. I knew we needed to stay long enough to be polite to our friends that night, but all I could think about was taking my handsome husband up to the hotel room for some interruption-free sex.
My girlfriends were twittering about some football player that was in the club that night. I had heard his name before on the local news, and when Jim and his friends were watching the game, but I didn't know anything about him other than what he looked like in a helmet.
Jim's left hand was on my leg under the table. He had been rubbing through the thin material of my dress, and he had been working his way up my thigh. I didn't want there to be a wet spot on the skirt when I stood up, so I held his hand tightly with my right hand.
Jim was using his other hand to feed me chicken wings, and I was lapping them into my mouth as provocatively as I could.
One of the guys said, "
Hey, you two, get a room!
" and we giggled at being caught.
Jim leaned over and whispered to me, "
Shall we dance here, or upstairs?
"
I was preparing my answer and reaching to find my small purse when I heard Jane say, "
Look! He's coming this way!
"
I squeezed Jim's hand tighter, looking forward to the night ahead.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and a smooth voice say, "
Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?
"
I turned intending to say, "No, all my dances are reserved for my husband tonight," but as I looked up at his ruggedly handsome but still boyish face, I got lost in his beautiful eyes. As if it was an involuntary action, my left hand came up, and I put it into his huge palm. He gently closed his hand around mine, and I rose from my seat as if lifted by an unseen force. "I'm Linda," was all I could say.
I know at some time I must have let go of my husband's hand, but I honestly have no recollection of doing it.
The first song was a fast one, and we danced without touching. It let me take in his whole body. He was tall and powerfully built. He moved with a grace that belied his size. His face was youthful but chiseled with a bright smile and eyes that twinkled when he looked at me. I didn't understand why, but I was attracted to him like he was a gravitational force.
The next song had a swing beat, so he scooped me up in his arms and lead me gracefully around the dance floor. His hold on me was totally appropriate for a casual dance between strangers, but it brought me closer to him to feel the heat emanating from his body and sense the manly combination of his cologne and natural scent. He led so well that we moved as if we had been dancing together forever -- each movement in sync throughout the song.
When that song ended, a slow song began. Marc stepped back politely and asked, "Do you need to get back to your table?"
A wave of disappointment flashed through my body, and I wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as possible. "I..., I could do one more," I said hesitantly.
A triumphant smile spread across Marc's face, and he pulled me into his body. This time we were much closer than was appropriate for strangers, but I relished the contact with his body. Everything I could feel was solid, and I do mean everything. His shoulders were broad, his arms were strong, his thigh was a solid mass of muscle pressing on my tingling mound, and the lump in his pants pressed tantalizingly across my abdomen. As we moved together, I could feel myself lubricating for a night of passion.
As that song ended, Marc held me close and continued to move as another slow song began. He maneuvered me to the far side of the dance floor. He looked down at me and asked, "Linda, would you like to leave with me tonight? I promise it will be the most amazing night of your life."
Without hesitating, I returned his question, "How would we do it?"
"Well, the back door is over by the restrooms. We could dance over by the bar and slip out together."
I thought for a moment, "I need my purse from the table, and my wrap is in the coat check by the lobby."