My thanks to Mr. George Anderson for allowing me to do my version of February Sucks. I have not read every version so if my version sounds familiar is totally a coincidence. I used other versions also to make my story complete.
To me, men might forgive the sex, but not the disrespect in this situation.
Remember this is Fiction. And could never happen "yea right."
Since everyone has read the original. My story starts when Marc LaValliere is in the club and Dee sees him.
https://www.literotica.com/s/February-sucks
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February Sucks My Way
He Couldn't wait to March first.
My story starts from here.
"It is, it is!" Dee squealed excitedly. Marc LaValliere was the star tight end on our city's football team. Unlike many others on the team, he made his year-round home here. He had the reputation of being a genuinely good guy, and he was as well known for his community activities as for his exploits on the field. Marc became the main topic of conversation at our table, as the guys talked about his football feats and the women praised his good works and good nature.
"It doesn't hurt that he's a hunk, either," Dee put in. Linda and I both knew who he was, but we weren't very interested in anything besides each other just then. We let the conversation wash over us, holding hands under the table.
"Hey, you two, get a room!" Linda and I looked at each other. We hadn't even been kissing. Well, not really kissing, anyway. My feeding her wings (so she wouldn't get sauce on her new dress, of course) didn't count. Besides, we'd already gotten a room. We were saved from further embarrassment when the band started again.
"Shall we dance here, or upstairs?" I whispered to Linda. Before she could reply, Jane interrupted.
"Look! He's coming this way!" Sure enough, Marc LaValliere had left his table and was heading for ours. I was amused by the reaction of the women at our table. Four of them primped and strutted, all but saying "pick me, pick me!" If you think a woman can't strut while she's sitting down, you have a lot to learn. Linda looked downward and held my hand a little tighter.
"Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?" He was standing behind Linda's left shoulder, holding his hand out to her.
I felt Linda gasp as she dropped my hand as if it were a hot potato. I watched dumbstruck as she turned her back to me, gave Marc her right hand (it almost disappeared in his big paw), and gracefully rose from her chair.
"Hey, man, now my feelings are hurt. I thought she was just dancing with you tonight." Dave smiled as he needled me.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," I groused.
"Relax, Jim. It's just a dance." Jane tried to soothe me. I tried to believe her, but I couldn't help having a bad feeling about this.
The band played a couple of fast songs, and our whole table watched them dance. So did everyone else in the room. Marc was good, far better than I was, and Linda was clearly enjoying herself. Her partner and her dress combined to show her off to perfection.
"Don't they look great together? Come on, Jim, let's join them," Dee invited, clearly trying to distract me.
"Thanks, but no."
The next song was a slow one. I watched Linda melt into his arms, fitting perfectly as though she belonged there. He was good at that, too. Lots of practice, I'll bet, I thought to myself sourly. Marc said something to Linda; she smiled sweetly as she responded. He wasn't doing anything I could legitimately object to. He didn't dance any closer to her than I danced with Dee or Jane; his hands didn't go anywhere they weren't supposed to.
Another slow song, a ballad this time. I could see the band leader watching my wife and her partner, taking his cues from them. Marc was smiling as he held Linda in his arms; he was clearly pleased with whatever was going on. I'd seen enough. I rose from my chair and felt Jane's hand on my arm.
"Wait, Jim. Let her have this. Don't ruin it for her."
I jerked my arm free, and then I looked at Linda's face. She clearly wanted to be exactly where she was, and nowhere else. She did not want any interference from me. I slumped back into my chair. Finally, the song ended. Marc nodded at the band leader, who started a faster song. He and Linda left the dance floor, smiling at each other, but not touching, not even holding hands. Linda gave him a last brilliant smile as she turned toward our table and Marc turned toward his.
The difference between a woman's best smile and her second-best smile isn't much. Unless you know the woman well, you probably wouldn't notice it at all. As Linda neared our table and our eyes met, her best smile faded to her second-best. I knew then that we had a problem.
"I keep telling you that you're the most attractive woman in here," I whispered in her ear as I seated her. I reached for her hand and held it in both of mine. "Is it time to take the next dance back to our room?"
For just the tiniest moment, I could have sworn Linda was afraid. Her eyes widened and I could feel her hand trembling. She covered the moment quickly, though, and looked away from me, across the table.
"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. I was too preoccupied to wonder why she had to broadcast this to the room at large. Linda looked at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Jim. I can use some freshening up, too." She rose and left, without answering my question. Of course, the conversation immediately turned to why no woman who is out with a group can possibly go to the restroom by herself. I had just started to wonder why my friends were working so hard to keep the conversation going on that topic when Dee came back. Alone!
"Where's Linda? Is she okay?" I practically shouted.
"Relax, Jim," Dee said, smiling. "Linda is fine, she just has something to do.
"Fuck you, Dee, don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining as I stormed off towards the Women's restroom. I rushed through the door to see the restroom empty.