February Sucks The Details Matter

I want to thank and credit GeorgeAnderson for his thought provoking story "February Sucks." Please read the original, as it is the foundation for the characters and the plot of this story.

I reached out to GA prior to publishing this story but I have not heard back. My understanding from the editors of Literotica is that GA has provided blanket permission for epilogues to his story.

This is my first submission. Until GA's story I was not tempted to write. However, his story made me uncomfortable. As a happily married, mother of two grown children, I was haunted by his premise of how a woman could go so quickly from a devoted, faithful wife to willingly having an affair. The drivers behind the potential infidelity (e.g., the need to be desired, insecurities of getting older, comparisons of lover with husband, once in a lifetime chance, celebrity, etc) tugged at me. My actual feelings regarding "February Sucks," were different than the feelings I knew I was supposed to have. This contradiction motivated me see the story primarily from Linda's perspective.

My goal with this epilogue is to capture the state of mind of the three main characters three months after the original story ends at the Labor Day picnic. In my story, Jim is not an avenger, Linda is not a contrite mess, and Marc is not a one-dimensional predator. They are, however, flawed and forever changed.

I have attempted to anchor this story faithfully to the events and timelines of GA's original. My intent was to append to, round out, and fill-in the original, not change it. I did allow myself one creative license. In the original story, shortly after St. Patrick's Day, Linda and Marc talk on the phone. Linda records the call and shares it with Jim. In this story, I added another unrecorded call.

Monday

Linda was sipping her coffee and staring into her phone when Jim came down the stairs. It was cold outside. Thanksgiving was last week and although fun, she was glad it was behind her. She was in a big, comfortable, warm housecoat, no makeup and cute fuzzy slippers that she bought last Christmas as a gift to herself from the kids, Emma and Tommy. She adored the slippers. I'm not much to look at she mused, as if that mattered. The fact was Jim didn't look very much these days. They had managed to avoid a divorce over the spring and summer and had patched things together after that odd birthday celebration last June where L.W. sent Ellen to try and seduce Jim. It had been a breakthrough of sorts and for that she was grateful. Since then they had made some new friends and were more social. Emma had started second grade in the fall and Tommy had started kindergarten. She and Jim were together and that was important, and to the outside world they were doing fine.

But on the inside things were off. They were getting along okay but something wasn't right. Sex was infrequent. Conversations centered almost solely on the kids. They were basically going through the motions. Linda wondered, not for the first time, if they were truly past her infidelity. Jim said he was, but Linda wasn't sure. He frequently told her he loved her and Linda believed him. She certainly still loved him. The aftermath of her night with Marc had made it abundantly clear what she almost lost. But still it was obvious that Jim was still struggling. He made valiant efforts to act normal, but he just wasn't himself. When Linda studied him, she didn't see anger in his eyes. That had passed. It also wasn't disdain, sadness, or even worse, indifference. If she had to guess she would say that his look seemed tormented. Almost as if her infidelity was still his weight, not hers; his personal demon.

"Did you sleep okay?" she asked.

"I guess," Jim replied. "I am worried about this business trip and I tossed and turned a lot."

"Do you have to go?"

He thought for a second before replying, "Yes. I really do. It's past time I started carrying my weight at the office. It's my client and I need to be the one to pitch the new business."

There was a long pause. "You packed?" Linda asked.

"Yes. I'll head out in about an hour. I'll let you know when when I land. I'll be at the client's all day, but will call again tonight before the kids go to bed."

"Sounds good," she said, although she was not sure that she meant it. She turned back to flipping through her phone. She knew this first extended time apart was not going to be easy. He would be suspicious of what she did, where she went, who she talked to. And she would, in turn, be constantly second guessing her every move so as not to add to Jim's suspicion. It felt circular, but it was reality. To make things easier, she had decided for the next three days she would just stay home. She had started working from home and there was nothing pressing that needed done this week. She would keep her phone with her constantly in case he called. The last thing she wanted was for Jim to get her voicemail. She would busy herself around the house until the kids got home from school. They would all eat-in and wait for daddy to get home on Wednesday afternoon.

Linda was right. Jim was tormented. He had bravely re-committed to Linda over the summer. He didn't want a divorce. But as he was learning, even as he was trying to move on, committing to doing something and actually doing it are two different things. He had never been able to put that night behind him. And in fact, if he was honest, his constant dwelling on that night was sending him into a very dark place.

Jim's drive to the airport took 45 minutes. Usually the perfect downtime to get mentally prepared before hopping on a plane and meeting a client. But this day the drive was excruciating. Being alone with his thoughts for 45 minutes was the last thing he needed. Like most days of late, his mind drifted to what happened that night. Not the lead in. That wasn't a mystery. He had seen that firsthand. He knew that story. Seeing her come down the stairs. His accelerated heartbeat. The arrival at the club. The heads that turned. Their first dance. The laughter. The closeness. The pride and anticipation he felt. The feeling of being on top of the world. Marc's approach. The heads that turned. Their first dance. The laughter. The closeness. The whispers. The seduction. The impending dread. Linda's changing smiles. The churning in his stomach. The panic. The utter disbelief. The anger. Ultimately, the overwhelming shame that washed over him when he realized Linda had left with Marc. His friends from that night were no longer in his circle. They were all dead to him. Nothing in the last nine months changed that fact. He tells himself that the reason he no longer wants to see them is that they enabled her, but deep down he knows that's a lie. He is severed his friendships for no other reason than he is embarrassed and ashamed. Being a cuckold is a prison. You are completely emasculated and you never fully escape the shame.

No, on this drive, his mind drifted to what he didn't know. What happened outside of his sight - things unseen and assumed. Linda, in writing her confession, had said she wanted to spare him the details, yet it was not knowing the details that still haunted him nine months later. It was all the things she did not write that continued to torture his active imagination.

What happened in the car on the way to his house? Was the time filled with small talk? Hell they just met. Did they even know each other's names? Was he mentioned? Did the asshole laugh about my predicament or belittle me? Not that I give a shit what asshole thinks, but damn I hope Linda wouldn't sit there and go along while her husband was ridiculed. Probably I was just awkwardly ignored, he concluded. Was he all over her? Was she all over him? Was she teasing him? Was her dress hiked up? Was her hand on his crotch? The more he thought about the more unbelievable it all was. They just fucking met and now she is in a car with him on her way to go fuck him.

I know she said when they got in the house he took her into his arms and continued slow dancing with her. Jim thought back to her written summary. He carried me to the bed and stripped me, she had written. What the fuck happened next, he thought. I'm sure she went down on him.

"Fuck," he said out loud. She hates giving blowjobs, but I bet asshole got one. He would have demanded it and she would have certainly complied. He's not use to being told no. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he shouted, as he pounded the steering wheel. The image of asshole sliding his dick in and out of Linda's mouth just burned his brain. Did he let her take charge of the blowjob or did he grab her head and push in? Was his cock ramming the back of her mouth or was she slowly and seductively working his shaft with her hand and mouth? Did he cum in her mouth? "God!" he screamed. "I am going to lose my mind!"

Every position, every possible sex act, every assumed submission to asshole, raced across his brain like some nightmare on a rapid, endless loop. What was worse was knowing that all of these things were happening between them within just two hours of meeting. Two fucking hours and my wife is willingly and eagerly guiding a stranger's dick into her mouth and pussy. How could that be? What was she thinking?

He wanted to turn around and head home, but he thought better of it. This trip was hard to get calendared and he knew it was best to just persevere.

When Jim left this morning things felt a little more off than usual, reflected Linda. Jim had certainly been out of the house many times since February. But this was different. He was going to be gone for 3 days. For a brief moment she wondered if he was really gone or was this some ruse to spy on her to see if she contacted Marc. She didn't think so, but no matter. She had no intention of calling Marc, and if Jim wanted to sit in the bushes for three days and watch her then so be it.

She quickly got bored with her scrolling around her phone and, like Jim, her mind often wandered back to that Friday night even more so lately given their struggles in the bedroom. She had told Jim the truth that the reason she had done it was she knew that the situation would never ever present itself again. It's cliché but it was truly a once in a lifetime chance. Linda instantly and instinctively knew that very few men were Marc's equal, and even fewer women would ever be singled out and approached by a man like him. Fairytales don't happen to everyone, but it presented itself to her.

Things have been excruciatingly hard since, but if she was being honest, she wasn't sorry. No that's not right, she thought. I am 'sorry,' but I'm not regretful. That seemed to appease her. It was more accurate. She had a memory reserved for very few women. She had a fairytale night where she utterly and completely gave herself to another man. Actually, she thought, that's not quite right either. A more honest accounting she confessed was that I had a fairytale night where I allowed myself to be taken by another man. Marc took me. Right? Nothing he said was ever presented as a question. It was always a command. Right?

She found it amusing that she was already questioning things from that night. The day after it all started, after Marc had dropped her off at home, she was certain she would never forget a single moment. The time with Marc was so vivid and fresh. Yet here she was nine months months later not being able to fully remember some of the details. It was at that moment that she decided to write it down...again. Not the summary this time, but the whole, complete unvarnished story. She needed to record the details, not to rationalize or excuse her behavior, but rather to ensure she remembered it - all of it - accurately and, most importantly, honestly. This version needed to contain all the details that she never shared with Jim or Dee. This time the story would be complete and private and just for me she decided. She also knew if she wanted to capture the emotion, the passion and the thrills it would have to be graphic. No written euphemisms or other puritan dodges to make it more ladylike. Who cares if it's X rated? She smiled at that thought.

She grabbed another cup of coffee, and using an online notes program, she began.

Dear Journal:

Nine months ago to the day, I abandoned my husband at a nightclub to leave with another man, a beautiful stranger that I had just met. His name was Marc. I was enthralled with him AND I was caught up in the moment. I knew, as I was leaving behind my husband Jim to go with Marc, that I would let Marc fuck me. I was anticipating and hoping for the sexual night of my life. A dozen or more orgasms later across a night and into a glorious next morning proved I was right.

I guess I need to backup a little to pick the story up. I was at Morrison's a throwback dance club around the corner from the Madison Hotel with Jim, Dee, Dave, Jane and Paul and the gang. My makeup and hair were perfect. I loved my new dress and my cute new shoes. They'd been sitting in my closet since Valentine's and I was so excited to finally get to wear them. It had been a long winter so I had pampered myself. I had my nails done. I went online for a new (and expensive) matching bra and panty set to go along with some special lingerie that I packed for later with Jim. That afternoon, I soaked in the tub and I started feeling a little naughty so I shaved myself bare (a little surprise for Jim later, or so I ironically thought at the time). I looked great and felt great.

Although it didn't occur to me then, as I look back, a pivotal moment in this whole affair (that I guess gets at a deeper level of my state of mind) was when I came down the stairs and Jim saw me for the first time. His eyes got big and I swear he let out a soft whistled. Every girl's dream. A handsome husband that adores you. Yet, if I'm honest the look was a little off-putting. It's funny when your husband gets that look. All wives know it. It's part puppy dog and part horn dog. Basically, it means he's probably coming in for a kiss and a quick feel which will certainly mess up your hair and makeup. As I reflect back, on that moment I did feel loved, but also a little annoyed. However, the annoyance quickly passed and the excitement for the evening took over. This was going to be a big night. In fact for a suburban mom with two kids, this was sort of the pinnacle of my social life. It was a chance to spend some money on a new dress and shoes without getting in trouble, get decked out, no kids, no need for a designated driver or Uber, and a hotel room. It would be fun.

It would also, unfortunately, be predictable. We'd dance, eat and talk. At some point the boys would huddle together to talk football or little league soccer coaching strategy. A few of us girls would drink too much. We'd eventually say our goodbyes and head up to our respective rooms for sex with our husbands. In the morning we'd throw on some leggings and a sweatshirt, pull up our hair, put on ball caps and call it done. The glamour and desire to be sexy would be behind us with a day of obligation lying ahead. We'd then text around and see if anyone was interested in meeting in the lobby for breakfast and then we'd check out and head home to pick up our kids and continue our predictable middle class mom lives.

Side note to self before moving on: nothing I just wrote is meant to imply I wasn't happy with my life or marriage. I don't want to read this in 10 years and somehow rationalize there were problems in our marriage that drove me to seek another man's bed. There were not. There are problems now, but at the beginning of that night, there was not. In fact I was quite happy.

However, it's not as though my life was perfect. Like most young mothers I was often exhausted. I often felt like I was going in 10 different directions. I had self doubt about being a good mother. I worried about being a good wife. I would occasionally get grumpy or snap unnecessarily at Jim. I would page through Facebook and see college friends traveling and living what seemed like more exciting lives. I had a little FOMO I guess.

I was also a little anxious about my looks. What girl isn't? I kept on a little extra weight on after Tommy was born. Jim never said anything, but I secretly wondered if he noticed and I worried if he found me less attractive. Also, summer was coming and my anxiety about my body image after two kids was making me wonder for the the first time if I was beyond two piece swimsuits and needed to start looking for something a little more modest. I know it's first world problems, but I think all of this plus the cold, grey winter combined to make me a little melancholy and a little insecure leading up to that night and I was looking to the evening to me fix my mood.

Back to coming down the stairs. Like I said my dress looked great on me and I was ready to go. Jim let me know how hot I was, but again he was horny and he was my husband. He had long since learned to compliment me, but even so it was clear that this time he meant it. His look reassured me that he loved me and thought I was attractive. His eyes let me know I was safe, loved and would be cared for. The moment was familiar and nice, but to be clear, there was nothing in his look that was animalistic or offered even a hint of anything outside our comfortable sexual routines.

Time in a marriage does that. It's not a bad thing, it just is. You get comfortable around each other. Jim said I looked good and I believed him. I was certain he was right, but I guess I wanted outside validation. Particularly non-husband, male validation. In suburbia, that validation comes in many, mostly harmless ways. Me in a cute spaghetti strap, above the knee, sundress at the backyard barbeque with husbands admiring my tanned legs and pretty feet. Quick glances at my ass from strangers when I'm at the mall. A few buzzed husbands staring at my chest at the PTO fundraiser. [P.S. Men are so clueless. They think they are stealing glances, but women know.] Like I said harmless and flattering, but also important. Women will understand this sentiment way more than men. I certainly don't desire sex with any of my friends' husbands, but I love it when I know they want me. I once overheard Dave tell a small group of guys a couple of years ago that I was a "smokeshow." On the one hand it reminds me that guys, and in particular Dave, can be pigs, but it's still one of my favorite all time secret compliments. I pull it out every now and then when I need a little self-love.

Like most women, I want to be desired, to be undressed in men's minds, to be a fantasy of theirs. When I feel it's happening, it's a complete turn on. I know society demands that the world look at women as something other than sex objects, but speaking as a woman, it's important that men still look -- that we quicken their heartbeats, widen their eyes and occupy their thoughts. And as every woman knows, we deeply fear the inevitable day when the men stop looking, when we might as well be invisible.

This night, however, was not that night. The men all stared and I loved it. When I got to the club, valet's, waiters, random guys and of course Dave and Paul, all took second looks. The more they stared, the more alive I felt and turned on I got.

Linda's phone buzzed. It was a text from Jim.

"Landed," Jim texted. "About to leave in rental car for the client's."

She pressed the text and touched the thumbs up. She then texted, "Thanks for letting me know. Miss U already. Love U." She then noticed the time and decided to set the journal aside for a bit and go shower, get dressed and get about her day.

The immediate text back from Linda was, for some reason, comforting. Jim didn't want to read too much into it, but it felt normal. She didn't over do it with the thank you so much for letting me know dear. or I love you so much. You are the love of my life dear, heart emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji! There was a little of that at the beginning. It was as if somehow she felt that she had to overly express her love and lay it on thick in order to correct her mistake. It never struck me as genuine and I think she quickly came to the same conclusion, Jim thought.