February Sucs - She Had to Step In

Over the last couple of weeks, I have read several stories in the "February Sucks" genre that start with the introduction to George Anderson's story, where he talks about a conference he was attending and how he had gone to a bar with a group of attendees. There were about twenty men and women from the conference in the bar, and they discussed what would happen if they were propositioned by a famous football player. The women all seemed to think it was acceptable to go with the footballer, and that their husbands would accept it, while the men didn't agree.

It was this experience that led to the original February Sucks story.

Although I have already written one of these stories, re-reading these new stories plus GA's introduction, the idea for this story came to mind. I thought it was a different angle that I have never seen before (if it has, my apologies to the author), so here goes.

Many thanks to the original author, George Anderson, for allowing people to add to this universe of stories. I would suggest you read the introduction in his original story before reading this; you forget about it sometimes.

Many thanks to my editor kenjisato for the editing.

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Terry and I sat at the bar in Madson nightclub, watching the parade go by. Madson's was a club for the 'thirty-somethings' in town. The customers were mostly married, out as couples or with friends, for some fun because the kids were being babysat. Terry and I weren't married. In fact, we were both divorced, but neither of us were back into the dating scene; we danced around our handbags a bit, had a few drinks and wouldn't be hit on by single blokes who were out looking for one thing only. This place was perfect for that.

My name is Linda, and this was the place I destroyed my marriage a little over twenty-eight months ago. My story was simple. I was out for a late Valentine's celebration with my husband. Six people, who I had considered friends, had invited themselves along to the party. The night was going well. My husband, Jim, and I had a nice meal, we danced and fed each other hot wings, and we had a hotel room booked for a long and sexy night. I loved (and still love) Jim more than anything in the world, but sometimes a few drinks, and the wrong person in the wrong place-- mistakes could be made.

My problem started when the local star football player came into the club. Dee, who had been my best friend from school, was obsessed with celebrity and I think had picked this club because she knew Marc LaValliere frequented it. I learned later she knew he picked up married women in Madson's, and took them home with him. It was her burning ambition to either be one of them, or at the very least, to know someone who it happened to.

Here, I have to admit LaValliere was a tall, fit and very good-looking man. When he came up behind me, held out his hand, and asked for a dance, I was out of my chair and on the dance floor in a heartbeat. I knew Jim would be a bit mad for not allowing him a say, but it would be one dance, and I could tell Dee how strong his arms were as he held me.

There was a band playing and they were good for a nightclub band. Each song flowed into the next, and before I knew what was happening, Marc had me over to the side of the dance floor, and instead of being a fast song, we were smooching to a slow song. I saw Jim coming onto the dance floor, but Dee, and then Jane, intercepted him, pushing him back to the table. I silently thanked them, but realised I had to get back to Jim or I would destroy his night.

It was at that point, things started going wrong. Marc had been gently kissing my neck and ear. Coming to the end of the slow dances, he pulled me into him very close.

He whispered, "Does that feel good?"

I felt his very long cock being pushed against my pussy. Someone might as well have thrown a bucket of water over my panties, they were so wet. He kept grinding and I held myself in place, while I kept my eyes closed, savouring a wonderfully illicit experience. It was so raw and shocking, I was actually having a mini-orgasm on the dance floor.

Marc whispered in my ear, "I am leaving in fifteen minutes; meet me at the fire door over by the toilets, and I will give you a night you will never forget."

Sometimes, you know things are true and I just knew he could give me a night of sex I would never get anywhere else, but I had Jim, and was one night worth a lifetime without him?

I kissed Marc on the neck and said, "Sorry, I can't do that to my husband. I enjoyed this,but I don't think so."

He took both my hands and created a bit of space between us and looked me up and down. Then added, "That's a shame, I would have loved giving that body a test drive. Let's get you back to your friends."

I knew the smile on my face was from a certain degree of sexual tension with Marc, but I was happy, as well. As I looked at the table, all the women had big smiles on their faces. The men were a bit concerned, but Jim looked like a bear with a sore head. I felt some nervous energy as I sat with him, but I tried to keep my smile in place.

I had only sat down, when Jim suggested going back to our hotel. It was still early, but I thought that would be a good idea. I would still have some nice images in my head and I would expunge my guilt and his bad feelings by leaving him totally spent.

I looked over to Dee and was about to tell her that Jim and I were going to leave, when she bounded out of her chair, and said, "I need to go to the ladies' room, will you come with me, Linda."

I knew the look. Dee obviously wanted the dirt, so I thought, No harm in giving her a bit now. The more worked up I get now, the more Jim will benefit later.

As I followed Dee to the ladies' room, I could see Marc standing at the bar beside the fire-exit door. His smile was ecstatic when he saw me, but I mouthed, "No, just going to the ladies room."

Marc's smile faded slightly, but he said, "I'll be here for another five minutes if you change your mind."

As I entered the ladies' room, Dee was standing just inside the door and she exploded, "What the hell are you doing? You know he wants to take you home, why are you not in his car right now?"

I wasn't quite on Dee's wavelength. Fidelity was really important to Jim and our friends. I half spluttered back, "I couldn't leave Jim to go home with another man, it would kill him and our marriage."

Dee never quit. "That's not another man, it's Marc LeValliere. Jim will probably brag to his mates how he took his wife. Jim loves you more than anything, he will see what an exceptional opportunity you have been offered. He could never do things this guy will do to you. You have to do it. You have your whole life to make it up to Jim, but only one opportunity to be taken by Marc LeValliere."

My head was swimming. Did Dee really think Jim would allow me this. I hadn't even finished processing what Dee had said, when she took me by my hand and dragged me out the door.

She virtually handed me to Marc, and announced, "Get her out of here. I will keep her husband out of the picture until you are clear. Linda, get some great memories and give me all the juicy details."

Marc pushed the fire exit open, and I was in the passenger seat of his car and on the main road before my head had stopped spinning. My panties, which were still wet from dancing, were in Marc's hand on the wheel, and he had two fingers from his other hand in my pussy. My body was on the edge.

Jim, and worse, the kids, never even touched the sides of my conscience.

Marc drove straight to his gated mansion and into the garage, where there were, at least, six cars in it; one of which, was a Ferrari 458, one of my favourite cars in the world. As Marc came round to my side of the car to help me out, he saw me looking at it.

He smiled. "I'll take you home in that tomorrow. It's a bit old now, but I still have the most fun driving it."

He kept hold of my hand and walked me into the house, up the stairs and into his bedroom.

The room was big; we kissed and necked at the door. I felt my dress being undone by a man who was not my husband, and it felt so erotic; I just could not hold back. I started undressing Marc as he undressed me. When we were both naked, I used his long, thick cock to lead him to the bed.

I sat on the bed, and he stood in front of me. Picking up his cock again, I started to admire it, then kiss it, and finally, I started to suck. I worked harder and harder; I could feel Marc slowly rock back and forth, clearly increasing his own pleasure without forcing himself down my throat.

Eventually, he announced, "Stop or I'll cum in your mouth."

I thought, Hell, I've come this far, let's do it. So, I didn't stop and I felt an eruption in my mouth, and to my own surprise, I just kept on swallowing until it stopped. God, Dee was right-- this was going to be a very memorable night.

Marc, then half-lifted me up the bed, laid me down on my back with my head on a soft pillow. He went to work first on my mouth, then nipples, and then my pussy. He kissed, fingered, sucked and licked me to orgasm after orgasm.

Eventually, I grabbed his ears and pulled him to my face. I kissed him, and hissed, "Please, just fuck me!"

He didn't need a second invitation, as he used his strong legs to push my legs apart, positioning himself at my entrance.

The first rational thought in a while came to me. "You need a condom," I muttered, as I looked at the raging tip of his monster.

"Why? Aren't you on the pill?" he asked.

"No," I heard someone whisper, not really recognising it as me. "Jim had a vasectomy."

The smile on Marc's face was actually maniacal, and he just pushed. I felt him enter me, and I didn't put up any resistance. I was glad Marc had taken control. As he bottomed out inside me, he leaned against my ear. "Good, I love it t when my women are fertile."

From there, I lost count of the number of orgasms I had, and the number of times Marc came inside, what I knew was, my fertile pussy. It had been fifteen days since my last period started, and I would be lucky to escape without getting pregnant.

We literally had sex, slept, had several more rounds of sex, slept, showered, had sex in the shower, had breakfast, had sex.

And then at eleven-thirty the next morning, just over twelve hours since I had entered the house, I announced, "Marc, I need to be going home. My panties are such a mess, can you run me by the mall before taking me home."

We both dressed and Marc ran me over to the West Mall. I picked up a pair of fresh panties and stopped at the pharmacy for the Plan B emergency contraceptives, which I took before going back out to Marc's car. I had a lot of making up to do to Jim, and presenting him with Marc's baby would not help me on that road.

As we coursed down the road in the 458 Spider, Marc asked what I would say to Jim.

"I'm not sure, obviously sorry, but after that I'm not sure," I responded.

"Now, don't apologize too much. After all, he has given you a gift, thank him for it. Tell him you are so pleased, but now you will give him his gift and the first part of it is you being home; you are just the same as you were yesterday. Last night was like going to the shopping mall any day of the week," he offered.

I thought about this approach, and could see some benefits. I didn't want Jim to dwell on what had happened last night. I wanted him to move on quickly and that meant focusing on the positives, and the things that were the same-- me, the kids, our house, our life, etc. Yes, it was a good strategy.

Marc pulled up on the sidewalk outside the house. He was going to get out, but I said, "No, don't get out. Just let me out and drive on. Thanks for a great night." I kissed him lightly on the cheek, and got out of the car. He waved and drove off.

I looked up the path, but there was no one at the door or the windows to see me. It felt eerie.

I walked up the drive and could see Jim's car in the garage. The children were obviously home because I could hear them playing in the garden next door, but Jim was very much absent. I wasn't expecting the red-carpet treatment, but I was expecting some sort of greeting, even if it was a 'fuck you'. Nothing suggested he was madder than I thought he would be.

I walked to the back door and, finding it unlocked, opened it and stepped inside. I was hoping everything would be the same-- but it wasn't. Usually, when I came home from anything, Jim either came to the door to greet me or would shout from wherever he was that he was indisposed. There was nothing but silence. There was no sound, no smell of food or coffee, no TV, no radio. It was like the life had been sucked out of the house.

I went into the hall and shouted, "It's only me. I'm home, just the same little old me. Nothing has changed."

God, I was rambling and, contrary to what Dee had suggested and Marc had said, even I could hear everything had changed. I could hear my voice strain, I could feel the pain in my stretched pussy, and I could hear the defining silence in the house. I began to wonder if anything would ever be the same again.

I slowly climbed the stairs to find the suitcase from the hotel lying on the bed. I opened it. I wanted to get the sexy set away from Jim. I knew I would keep it for a few days, until the worst of his anger had subsided, then model it for him. That should eradicate the last bits of the pain. When I opened the case, I realised only Jim's stuff was in it, nothing of mine.

Confused, I went to the spare room, which doubled as Jim's home office. Jim sat at the desk, working at the computer. I started by asking, "Did you not hear me come in? I called on you, I thought you would have welcomed me back."

Jim didn't move to acknowledge me, he just kept on typing.

So, I tried again. "Where is my stuff from the hotel? I can't see any of my makeup and that new sexy set of lingerie needs to be looked after carefully before you rip it off me." I had said the last part in a deep, sexy tone.

Jim had clearly finished what he was doing on the computer, as he was printing something out, and had walked to the printer. With his back to me, he replied, "I left it in the hotel room, you will need to phone the receptionist before the cleaners throw it out." His voice was emotionless.

I was a little hurt that he hadn't looked after my stuff. I looked after his stuff with the same care I gave my own. I retorted, "You left it? That was a hundred dollars' worth of stuff. You need to get down there now and recover it."

But Jim didn't. He just collected all the pages he had printed, signed on a couple of pages, then set them back onto the printer's feeder tray, with the clear intention of scanning them. He then went back to the computer, pressed a few buttons and the scanner started.

Again without looking, he then announced, "Not my problem."

Okay, so this was always going to be the difficult part. I needed to get him talking, get him doing the little things for me. I would give him an hour, then ask him again. I left the office, and that's when I saw the two suitcases sitting at the top of the stairs. I went back to the office, and asked, "Jim, why are those two suitcases down? They can't stay there, the kids will trip over them in the middle of the night going to the toilet."

By this stage, Jim was obviously attaching a file to an email or a website. He didn't lift his head. "They aren't staying there. They are my things. I'm waiting on Jeff to bring his truck over, so I can pack everything into it."

Everything was a bit fussy for a second or two. I then questioned, "What do you mean? Why is Jeff packing your things in his truck?" Even though I could see it coming, I still couldn't get my head around it.

Jim walked over to me with an envelope of papers and handed them to me; then walked to his suitcases. "We're done, Linda. Those are the divorce filings. I have filed at the courthouse and my attorney is waiting on your attorney to respond. If you don't have an attorney on record by Friday, you will have to be legally served. Let's not make this any worse than it is by fighting the inevitable."

With that, he picked up one suitcase and carried it downstairs. I heard a horn beep and the back door open. A few minutes later, he came back up the stairs and picked up the second suitcase.

Jim continued, "I told the kids that you need me out of your life so you can love them more. Please be gentle with them. There is a formula for child support and I have followed it exactly. We split everything and this house is sold when both leave home. I am moving into my old apartment. There is no spousal support, please don't fight that. You have full custody but I have three out of four weekends and summers."

He turned and walked back down the stairs. By this point, I had been standing in this one spot for nearly five minutes, with my mouth open and no sound coming out. I heard the back door open and close, then Jim calling to the children to say goodbye.

I heard the V8 engine in Jeff's truck rev, as it pulled away from the front of the house. Then, I heard Jim's car pull away. And just like that, he was gone. I hadn't spoken a word of my prepared defence. I just knew I would never be with him again.

The kids came running into the house, shouting, "Mummy, mummy where are you?"

I croaked a response, "Upstairs."

Emma ran into me, she had a smile on her face, but I could see tears in her eyes. "I really hope you have enough love for both of us, now daddy is gone."

All I remember was curling up in a ball and crying, as the kids stood and looked at me.

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I pulled myself together, I had to. Cleaned up and started getting food for the children. They needed something and they needed routine as quickly as possible. I would worry about Jim later. My head was too fuzzy to work out what to do.

At seven in the evening, Dee walked in as if she owned the house, not even a knock on the door, shouting, "Well can you walk yet?"

Dee's voice grated on my ears. Not only did she expect a blow-by-blow description of my infidelity, she clearly intended to rub Jim's nose in it. That was the first time, the enormity of my actions hit me. I was unfaithful. It didn't matter if it was with the man next door, or the King of England, I was an unfaithful slut. If my husband had done that to me, I would have slung him out. I dissolved once again.

Dee came into the kitchen where I was sitting at the table, with my head in my hands. She laughed, "God, it must have been fantastic if he has moved you to tears even thinking about it."

I took a deep breath to control the crying then lit on Dee. "You stupid bitch, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. You made me live out your fantasy and now Jim has left me. He's already filed for divorce and even if I try and fight it, he will never love or respect me again."

Dee was dismissive. "What, has his fragile male ego been bruised? Let's get all the wonderfully dirty bits out of the way, then we will phone him and tell him to put his ego away and get back here to the love of his life."

Dee was standing beside me with her hand on my shoulder. I swung out of my chair and slapped her, with all my force, across her cheek. A red welt rose immediately and I could see tears forming in Dee's eyes. I felt no compassion for this woman. She had handed me to that asshole last night, like a piece of meat, all because that was her fantasy. And then, she expected me to relay it to her blow for blow; she would use the whole exercise to gleefully rub Jim's nose in it. This woman was supposed to be a friend but she is a self-centred moron.

I screamed at her, "Get out of my house, get out of my life! You have destroyed everything I hold dear, and you can't even see what you have done. Jim does not have a fragile ego, he has self-respect and no man could live with a slut like me if they have self-respect."