February Sucks Lindas Choice Ch 03

THIS IS A 3 PART SERIES. READ THE WHOLE THING BEFORE PASSING JUDGEMENT.

I KNOW YOU PEOPLE VOTE ON HOW THE WIFE GETS SLAGGED IN THE END.

BUT IT DOESN'T HAPPEN ON PART ONE, OR TWO.

This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos and written by permission of

George Anderson

.

It is my version of his famous runaway story.

February sucks

While you don't have to read his to follow my version, I HIGHLY recommend it. Especially the lead-in.

This part is told from Linda's point of view.

I push boundaries and question everything and everyone in my stories. All my characters are flawed and have to deal with their own failings. Some rise above their shortcomings, while others do not. Their choices define them.

In my stories, nothing happens for "no good reason." To me, the real meat of the story is the before and the why.

Like real life, it's often a shitshow.

***

So this is my version of the story. Which, while based on GA's narrative, is different in multiple details and aspects. You will get to meet Linda and Jim Johnson from Linda's point of view. Part 01 was her affair. Part 02 was up to where Mark asked her to dance at the club. And part 03 is... after.

So get tucked in...

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Previously on Part 02

Taking a glance, I saw Mark leave his table and walk straight to ours. He was dressed to kill in an expensive fitted dark gray sharkskin suit, silk shirt, and metallic blue tie. Fuck him if he didn't make all the women wet. And sadly, I was no exception.

For a few seconds, I thought of standing and dragging my husband to the hotel room as he had suggested. But I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

'Go past the brunette in the blue dress, leave!'

I tried to will him away. But he kept coming to the edge of my vision. Stopping by Dee at the other end of the table, he gazed at her briefly as everyone stared and she primped for him. But without hesitation, he continued up our table until he was next to Jim and me.

"Hi," he said, offering me his hand. "My name is Mark. Would you like to dance?"

End of Part 02

My delema

To say I wanted to die that instant would be an understatement. The fucken bastard had come straight to me. Did he know who I was? he had not seen me in this dress or as a brunette. Was it a fluke? Had he asked me without knowing who I was? But I realized that the chance of that was small, and if I refused, he would make a scene. How would I explain any of it to Jim?

As everyone watched, I dropped my husband's hand and stood. My small hand disappeared in Mark's large palm as he led me to the dance floor. In that instant, I knew how bomb disposal technicians felt defusing a bomb. Anything I did could backfire and lead to my demise.

"Relax, Jim, it's just a dance," Jane said to my husband as I was led away.

Keep it together Linda. Keep it together.

I repeated over and over in my mind as Mark and I began dancing. I had to tread carefully. If I danced with him a couple of fast tunes, we could move to a slow song, and I could try talking some sense into him.

I forced myself to smile, occasionally looking at Mark and then looking away. He had a smug "I've got you now" look on him as he faced me dancing. And in a way, he did. He danced well, while all I could do was keep up. I remembered Mark telling me how dancing was a passion for him. That it helped him with his coordination on the field as he ran patterns to catch the ball. As he gyrated his groin and hips, I forced myself to look elsewhere and smile as if I was having fun.

Then the music changed to a slow song, a ballad. The band leader took his cues from Mark and me as he pulled me closer, and I went willingly. I had to talk some sense into him. He pulled me closer in an apparent show of conquest and ownership. Damn him! But it gave me a chance to reason with him. Only he spoke first.

"After this dance, I will wait for you at the rear exit by the bathrooms. Just say you are going there and come to me. I want you for the night."

His body rubbed on my thigh.

"Are you insane, Mark? My husband is right there watching. Please don't ruin my marriage. I beg of you. Just take another woman and forget I exist."

"I want you, Linda. You will not be disappointed." He said, reminding me what he had told me back in November before we started our affair.

"Not happening, Mark," I said, forcing a beaming smile.

"The song will end soon. I know you will come. If you don't, I will..."

Our conversation had been in snippets between steps and turns. The song had been shorter than I expected, and now it ended. Left to smile as was expected of me politely, I had to walk the walk of shame back to our table. Seeing a worried gaze on my husband's face, I tried to smile at him. To reassure him that all was well. But I knew it wasn't. Mark would wait by the rear exit, and when I did not arrive, he would come back and make a scene.

Fuck! Fuck! The fucken bastard!

"I keep telling you you are the most attractive woman here," Jim whispered in my ear, pulling out my chair. I tried to focus. "Is it time to take the next dance back to our room?"

Oh Jim... sweet Jim, how I have failed you. How I don't want to leave you here and go to him. But I must. If I don't, our world will come crashing tonight.

"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.

My hands trembled as I let Jim's hand go one more time.

"Sorry, Jim. I can use some freshening up, too," I remember saying in a daze and stood.

The look of dejection on his face is something I can not forget, even after all these years.

"What are you doing?" I asked her as she took my hand and pulled me toward the bathrooms.

"But Dee said nothing other than drag me to the dimly lit hallway. Bathrooms on one side and the exit to the other. I noticed that a bouncer held it partially open with Mark's imposing frame next to him waiting.

"You came," he smiled. "You won't be disappointed..."

No longer inhibited my husband's questioning scrutiny, I let Mark have it.

"You will be the one disappointed Mark," I cut him off. "I don't know how you found me here and how you knew it was me. But this shit ends now. I'm not going with you. What part of fucken over don't you get?"

"Baby Girl," he tried to placate me.

"Shut up, Mark!" I lowered my voice, finally getting his attention, speaking in his face. "I am not going with you anywhere, ever. I am going back to my husband. And if you try to ruin my marriage, I will destroy yours and your life, you bastard. You have a prenup agreement, and Bella will roast you in court. And you have a moral's clause you seem to forget about with the team. If you tell my husband what we did, I go to the press and tell them... everything. Do you understand?"

His lips moved, but he said nothing as he tried to process what I said to him.

"How do you know all that?" he replied, stunned.

"It doesn't matter how. What matters to you is that it's true," I spat back. "You can ruin my marriage. But if you do, your life comes crashing down. Your call."

We stared each other down with Dee and the bouncer as witnesses. Neither wanting to back down or back off. But one of us had to. I had never felt so helpless in my life. Worse so than when he had forced-fucked me and hurt me physically. A woman's body is durable. It had repaired itself. But repairing my marriage was a long process that was still fragile. And right then, it was all on Mark's hands.

"Please, Linda, come with me."

***

What Dee did

"No, I am not," I said and backed away."

In that instant, the great Mark LaValliere, all pro-tight-end, disassembler of opposing defenses and stud about town, stared back at me like a lost boy.

"I am," I heard a familiar female voice say.

The bouncer, Mark, then I, all turned.

"I'll go with you, baby," Dee said, plastering her tits on Mark's ribcage. He looked at me one last time, then down at Dee. More like Dee's tits brimming over that tight, low-cut dress.

He looked at me one last time with disappointment, then defiance.

"Let's go," he said and gave me a sneer as Dee smiled at me.

"Dee, what about Dave?" I asked as they went out the back door, and the bouncer closed it.

"Goodbye, Mark," I whispered to myself more than to anyone else.

Then I turned to face Dave and my husband coming the other way.

"Is everything OK? Jim asked with concern.

"Where is Dee?" Dave asked, looking at the ladies room door. "Is she in there?"

"No, Dave, she is not," I replied.

"Where is she?" he asked, looking at me, then the bouncer and the door.

"Was she wearing a red low cut dress?" the bouncer asked.

"Yes, where is she?" dave asked, now near frantic.

"She left," the bouncer said, thumbing the door behind his back.

Dave tried moving toward the now closed rear door, but the bouncer got in his way with a menacing look.

"Where's my wife?" Dave asked, looking at me. "Why did she leave?"

I had to tell him. There was no point in hiding it.

"She eh... she went with Mark LaValliere," I said.

"People," the bouncer said to get our attention. "You are blocking the fire exit and the lavatories. Please move this conversation back to the club, preferably by the bar."

"I want my wife," Dave said in frustration. "Where did he take her?"

"Sir, on behalf of Morison's," the bouncer said, "please let me give you a complimentary drink from the bar."

"Fuck the drink," Dave said and moved toward the back exit again. But the bouncer blocked him once again.

Jim got in between them, facing Dave to stop a fight the bouncer would win.

"She left with that asshole you were dancing with. Right, Linda?" he pointed his finger at me accusingly as Jim held him back.

What could I tell him? That Dee would be just fine? That she would return to him the next day and everything would be the same? That she would still be the same old her? That their marriage could resume from where it had been?

That was all bullshit. Dee may return the next day, but she would not be "fine" or "the same old" her. I knew Mark. To him, she was just a consolation prize. He would fuck the shit out of her and drive her home. Another notch on his bed-post.

As for Dee's and Dave's marriage, it would never be the same. For the rest of his life, Dave would remember how his wife had left him at the club to go fuck the stud football player and humiliate him in front of all their friends. No marriage survives that kind of humiliation.

So I said nothing and hung my head in shame. Shame that all this was partially my doing. And guilt that I was glad it was Dave and not Jim experiencing those raw emotions of betrayal, jealousy, and anger.

"Mark, let's go back to our table," Jim said, ushering him that way under the eyes of the bouncer who turned to me.

"I won't tell anyone what I heard if you guys get your friend out of the club or settle him down. OK?"

"Thank you," I said to the bouncer. "We will."

"Do you know how many women he has done this to?" the bouncer asked, shaking his head.

I didn't need to know. I could imagine. Mark had a fixation on married women and convincing them to break their vows. He probably turned down serial cheater women, focusing on first times like me for the thrill.

I noticed the bouncer still staring at me with a sneer. For a second, I thought this man could ruin me as well. Did he want something for his silence? This was turning into a nightmare. But he realized what I was thinking and shook his head in disgust.

"I don't want anything from you," he said, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

I stared back at him briefly and nodded thanks for him choosing to keep quiet. Thankful that there were good men out there. Better men than Mark. And a better person than me for sure. In just a few minutes, the bouncer had seen me for what I was. A cheating wife, scrambling to salvage the mess she had made of her life.

I never went back to ask him what he saw in me to give me that chance. He certainly could have told my husband that I was involved and covering up my affair. Maybe it had been seeing Jim trying to be a good friend to Dave. All I know is that I dodged a bullet and would not look at a gift horse in the mouth.

Back at the table, Dave was telling everyone off for conspiring to have his wife run off with an asshole jock. Jim waved to me.

"We need to get him to his room. He is too drunk to drive."

The other three couples realized that our evening a the club was over and followed us to the coat check area as we escorted a very pissed-off Dave out.

"I'm done with her!" he said as we walked out. "She has been cheating on me for years. I thought we had patched things up, but she ran off with some overpaid jock. I'm divorcing her ass."

"Come one, Dave," Phil said from behind us. "It's Mark LaValliere!"

"So what, Phil? If the asshole had left with Jane, would you be saying that right now?"

"I wish," Jane said in jest. She was drunk and barely standing on her heels.

"Come on, hun," Phil said as he helped his wife walk away.

"Our wives are whores," Dave said, looking right at me. "You helped her go out with him, Linda. I will never forget that. It was all rigged, wasn't it? And dumb ass Dave is the sucker in this."

"Dave," I tried calming him down. "Dee did it on her own. I didn't plan anything. I only danced with him."

It didn't help that Jim, Gus, Hellen, and Andy all laughed at that. Dave did not take it well and lashed at Jim.

"It wouldn't be funny... friend. Not if Linda had gone off with him instead of Dee, would it?"

Jim stopped laughing as he looked at me briefly, then back at Dave apologetically.

"Sorry buddy, I think we all had much to drink. I agree; it was a shitty thing all around. Let's get you back to your room. OK?"

"Fuck off, Jim. Fuck off the lot of you. Especially you, Linda. You helped her. I know you did. That dancing with him was just a setup. Some friends you all are."

He was drunk and lashing out. But he was right. Not as he thought, but he was right that I was involved. Mark had come to the club for me, not Dee. When I turned him down, Dee took her opportunity to have sex with the infamous Mark LaValliere. Crazy bimbo!. But her action to distract him had prevented him from coming after me in front of Jim. The silly girl had helped save my marriage.

As I watched Jim and Phil help the inebriated and dejected Dave, I again realized how lucky I was. Jim could have been in Dave's shoes right that minute. And I would be... Well, I knew what Dee was experiencing. The unbridled sexual pleasure I had known all too well. But it had been just over two months, and the memory was fading. Jim and I had been making new memories. The type of recollections I didn't feel guilty about.

***

When we woke up the next morning, Dave was not in his room. What was supposed to have been Dee's and his room. All his things were gone. What was left was Dee's small suitcase and a set of black lingerie in the garbage bin that smelled of urine. Nice touch, Dave.

Jim and I gathered Dee's things and packed them with ours. The drive home was quiet for us both. With everything that happened and the drinking, neither of us had been in the mood for making out.

"Linda," Mark said, looking ahead as he drove. "Did he... did he ask you to go with him first? When you were dancing?"

Jim is not stupid. He had figured out something had happened. I couldn't tell him about the past, but I couldn't lie about Mark asking me to go with him either. He would know I lied. Husbands are not as stupid as some wives think they are. It's one thing to do something behind their back where they can't see or predict it. Another totally to lie to his face when he had been there to witness it.

"Yes," I replied.

"I thought something had happened," he said.

"Why didn't you ask me last night?"

"I wanted to, but... I needed to think. I knew something took place while you were dancing with him. And when Dee went off with him, I knew he had asked you first."

Him. Everyone had began referring to Mark as "him" from the moment they learned what Dee did. The name Mark LaValliere, once tossed about by the men and women in our group in team pride, was now tainted and sullied. As if saying it was a dirty word. Something adults do not mention in front of children.

"I'm with you to stay, Jim. If you still want me."

"As you slept, I watched you and thought how lucky I was that you were still there with me. How lucky I am to have you still."

"We are both lucky, Jim."

"No, Linda. Let me say it. I doubted you after the emails came from Snider. I let him get in my head instead of talking to you about it. How much time did I waste of our marriage, Linda? How much damage did I do by being afraid to ask you? I..."

I knew my husband had been partially responsible for our problems. But he did not deserve more anguish after all that Snider had put him through.

"Jim," I said, turning his way. "Stop. We can beat ourselves over what we did and didn't do, but the fact is that it happened. We can't undo what was done. All we can do is move ahead and learn from it."

He nodded in agreement, but I could still see conflict in his expression and something else. But as we drove, he seemed to relax. Or so I hoped. Everything that had happened last night made me weary again. I had thought our outing would end the dreariness of winter and give us a night to get away and be happy as a group. Instead, a new cloud of bleakness had settled over us.

We returned home around eleven in the morning, taking our bags inside. Dee's bags stayed in the back of our SUV as we wondered what was going on with her. Around noon we picked up the kids from my parents and took them to brunch. They were happy to see us, and so were we.

At one time, when the table was quiet as we ate, Jim glanced at me and smiled. I replied in kind with a nod. I was where I wanted to be. My choice having been made before we even went out the night before.

It was late afternoon when our doorbell rang. Being in the living room, I was closest and stood to open it. Looking out the peephole, I spied a pensive Dee, still in the red dress from last night. When I opened the door, she looked at me and exhaled before she spoke.

"Dave changed the locks to the house. Can I come in?"

"Sure," I said. "We brought your things back with us. Not your lingerie, though."

"What happened to it?" Dee asked as she poured a cup of coffee.

"Dave, tossed it in the trash, then peed on it," I replied.

"How romantic," she said, waving at Jim as he came in the kitchen.

"Hi, Dee," he said. "Have you been home yet?"

"I tried to, but Dave locked me out," she replied as if it was an everyday occurrence.

Jim and I looked at each other. Then he raised an eyebrow at Dee's nonchalant behavior.

"We have your stuff from the hotel here," I said to her.

"Thanks, guys," she said, stretching and showcasing her tits. "Look, I hardly got any sleep last night. Do you mind if I take a shower and crash in your bed for a while?"

Jim looked at me for an answer.

"Go in our room; I'll get you a t-shirt, towel, and yoga pants to wear."

"But I sleep in the nude," she said with a smirk.

Jim chuckled at that and stood. He had been reading messages on his phone.

"Dave has your stuff in bags by the door. He told me to go over and get it before he tosses it out. Be back in an hour. I expect he will want to vent."