February Sucks The Two Notes

As were many others, I was taken by George Anderson's story. If you have not read

https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks

, I recommend it. I thank the author for permission to add another look at this, classic story.

Most stories in this section are told first person, from the point of view of the betrayed spouse. That is true of the original story and its many sequels. I wanted to look at the story from the other view, the cheating wife. In the original, she is remorseful and wants her husband to know it was a one-time fantasy and they should be able to get beyond it. I tried to maintain that character in my alternate ending.

Like George Anderson's, my story has its origin in a conversation, repeated here. My ending does not repeat any other part of the original story and begins in Marc Lavalliere's bedroom, the morning following Linda's sneaking out with Marc Lavalliere. The characters and events prior to my story beginning are the same as the original. If you have not read the original, it is a great read, and will help explain how this story started.

by GeorgeAnderson.

This tale has its origin in a conversation remembered from some decades ago. The conversation shocked me and made such an impression that I'm quite sure I remember its essentials correctly. A recent event reminded me of that conversation and motivated this story. Thanks to BlackRandl1958 and stev2244 for their kindness, thoughtful discussion, and for fixing my mistakes.

The conversation:

Many years ago, I was out of town at a conference. About 20 of us, half men and half women, almost all married, went out to a watering hole one evening to decompress. The local fauna were hitting pretty heavily on the women at our table. We guys were wincing at the crudity of the locals' attempts, while the women laughed and rejected them. One particularly bad approach drew the comment, "He's lucky I like this beer, otherwise he'd be wearing it."

"So what if it had been [famous football player: call him Jocko] saying that to you? Would he have scored?" another woman asked with a flirty little smirk in her voice.

"Hell, yes!" "Absolutely!" It was clearly unanimous.

"What if it meant, you know..."

"Especially if it meant that!" The women's laughter was genuine; the guys' was a little forced.

Understand, these women weren't dogs who couldn't get a date: they ranged from pretty to downright hot. They were in their late twenties and early thirties, and dressed for a night out.

"Um, what would you tell your husband?" one of the guys asked hesitantly.

"Um, why would I tell my husband?" The reply was instantaneous, and greeted with laughter and head-nodding from the women.

"What if your husband was here?" the guy persisted. We could all hear the anxiety in his voice.

One of the women leaned forward with her elbows on the table and looked him dead in the eye. I remembered her from lunch; she'd been showing off pictures of her husband and their perfectly adorable five-year-old girl. "I would tell him that he knows how much I love him, and he knows I'll always come back to him, but I'm not going to pass up this opportunity, and I'll see him sometime tomorrow." She spoke calmly and kindly but with determination. None of us could doubt that she meant exactly what she said.

Several guys' jaws dropped considerably; I know mine was one.

"No, you wouldn't," the guy next to me muttered. The woman looked at him pityingly.

"Yes, I would, and I think every woman here would do the same."

"You might leave with him tonight, but if I was your husband, you sure as hell wouldn't see me tomorrow." He was as serious as she was.

Another woman tried to fix things. "Listen, I love my husband, I wouldn't trade him for anything. Jocko doesn't mean anything to me and never will, and he probably wouldn't even remember my name the next morning. But spending a night with him, just one night out of our whole marriage, would be something I could remember for the rest of my life. An event, you know, with a capital E? It would have nothing to do with the way I feel about my husband. Afterward, I would go home to the man I love, and everything would be like it was before."

A tense silence fell on the table. "Well, that shows us married guys where we stand, doesn't it?" one guy muttered.

"Come on, guys, don't be that way. It's not that big a deal."

The party broke up pretty quickly after that, as people left by ones and twos to wander quietly back to the conference hotel. I have no idea whether the women at that table were typical. I meant to ask my wife about it when I got home, but didn't get up the nerve. I still haven't. I'm not sure I want to know the answer, anyway.

GA.

I woke up confused. I was in some unfamiliar room. Oh! I remembered. I looked to my right and there he was, sound asleep. I looked over him to the table and found a clock, it was 10:23 am. I found my way to the bathroom, relieved myself and went back to the bed. I looked at him sleeping. He was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but I needed to get home. I reached out and touched his shoulder, to wake him.

It occurred to me I didn't even know what to call him. I hadn't yet called him anything, if you don't count Daddy, as in who's your? He made me say that last night. That's not even right, he'd been pounding away and merely inquired, I'd readily admitted he was my daddy. Am I ever sore, I won't walk right for days. "Marc? Wake up, I need to go home."

I shook him a little harder, then a little harder. I tucked my legs under me to get above him, maybe I'd have more leverage. He roused looked at me, I was still naked, and he grabbed me at the hips and turned me. He sat up, pulled my arm forward leaving me on my hands and knees. I said, "I need to go home."

He said, "This is my pussy, I'll let you know when it can go home. In an instant he was behind me. Just as quickly he was in me. It hurt. Then, it didn't. Then, I wasn't sore anymore. Soon I wanted it and I asked for more, harder. He finished and got up to go pee. I rolled over and was asleep before he was back in bed.

I woke up. I had to search for that damned clock, again. It was 12:43 pm. Shit! I gathered my clothes, went to the bathroom, and showered. I dressed and went into his office. I thought about calling Jim to come and get me, but I didn't know where

here

was. I'd spent a significant portion of the drive here face-down in his lap, as he drove. Exciting as it was it is a poor way to learn the route. I had snuck out on a big, planned evening with Jim, and the likelihood he'd receive the news I needed a ride home, cheerfully was less than a glimmer, if I told him I why I didn't know the address, my chances went down significantly from there.

I looked around and saw a stack of mail. I found Marc's light bill, and now had his address. I got my phone, called an Uber, and waited the 20 minutes for it to make its way to me. It arrived a few minutes before 2:00 pm, if Marc had awakened, I'd not heard him. Considering our night, he'd still not slept much. I'd be in bed, too, if it were the right bed, in the right house.

I left Marc's house without a word. Thinking about it, we'd shared few words in our time together. Our purpose had not been conversation. Who am I kidding? We'd not had a purpose. He wanted someone to fuck, I'd nodded, he took that as acceptance, then took me. When the group of us had talked about fucking some personality, I saw it like a romantic movie. If last night was a movie, it was like a porn Tarzan movie, I was just some extra bent over in the tree house. If there was any doubt surrounding my leaving, it was that Marc would remember who had been there.

On the way home I sat paralyzed in thought. You hear about guys getting in trouble because the blood runs to their little head and the big one cannot think. While I lacked the physiology, I did no thinking from the first dance with Marc until I was searching for mail to find my current address. It was all primal. I was in awe that this man had picked me. Then, he whispered in my ear he was going to fuck me like I'd never been fucked. There was no sweet talking, no seduction, just an announcement and my head nod. Then my head bobbing in the car. What was I—no, why wasn't I thinking?

I got out of the car. I felt like Dorothy after clicking her heels and awakening in my old existence. I'd lived a sixteen-hour fantasy, but it wasn't a fantasy. It was real. I hadn't come back to a black-and-white, hum-drum world. I'd come back to the life I sought and dearly wanted. I knew I had work to do.

I walked in the front door and called for Jim. No answer. I went up to the bedroom and found an envelope taped to the door. There was a single word on the outside, Linda. I went back downstairs, got a Coke, and sat to read. There was no salutation, the note just began:

You broke my heart last night. I am quite certain I will never recover, primarily because I don't want to recover. Those people we were with tried to tell me this was a once-in-a-life-time fantasy that no one could pass up. I should not be upset. That part is easy to deal with. They are nothing to me. I never have to see any of them again and will not.

As I lay alone, in our home, since our beautiful, planned night together was taken from me without even a by-your-leave, I tried to be mad. Trouble was I felt no anger. I tried to be sad, but that didn't hold true, either. I found I was disappointed, disillusioned. I thought I was half of a couple. I am not. We were never a loving couple. I loved you. You loved you. I was a single guy living a life doomed to end in disaster. The disaster came. It is time for a new life.

I came to the obvious conclusion you are not someone I want in my life. Anyone who would knowingly humiliate me because some jock wanted a good fuck is not a good person, not in love with me, not worth worrying about, and in short, just plain not.

But we have two beautiful children, to whom, until last night you have shown an unwavering love. I share that love and want more than anything to share in the joy of raising these beautiful young people.

Here is my decision. It is final. It is all within this note. If you have questions, refer to this note:

1.I will file for divorce on the day the last child leaves the home, for work, for college, or for their own pursuits.

2.Until that day I will give all appearances of loving you as I did before last night, when we are in view of the children, or might be in their view. Other than that, I will be cordial, but not caring.

3.I will never speak to, be in the presence of, or in any other way associate with any of the people who we accompanied last night.

4.I will never go with you to any venue outside our home unless we go in separate vehicles. That way, when you leave me, I can say I expected it, we came in separate cars.

5.Unless you divorce me, it will be more than a decade before I divorce you and I presume we will want to have sex. The first requirement, on my part, is I receive a certificate from a clinic, that you have no STDs. When I have that certificate, we can have sex, at your request. I will always wear a condom and will only engage in intercourse. No oral sex, either way.

6.You may find these terms acceptable, or not. You may choose to date others. You do not need my permission, other than the blanket given here. I do demand that when you have sex with others, you suspend sex with me until you have gotten another certificate, that you are safe.

7.If you choose divorce and try to deny me full access to our children, I will go to war. I will spend every cent we both have, ruining us all. You have caused this breech, you are responsible, you can suffer through your debacle with me, or we will all be consumed by it. I beg you, do not test me.

8.I will not mention this note to anyone. You, however, are free to show it to, discuss it with, or hide it from anyone or everyone. It is your decision. It is your life. I have no say, nor do I want one.

I have taken the children to the zoo. We have enough clothes for a couple of days. We will not return home until I get a text from you that you are home and have read the note. Remember, when we return, I will smile, hug you, kiss you, and act as though I care about you. But I do not. I will not tomorrow, or ever.

James R. Carlisle

He signed his full name, the way he did on our mortgage, on all legal documents. I was numb.

I thought I'd need to grovel and beg and give him all manner of sexual favors for maybe months, but he'd forgive me. This sounded so final. I thought some more. He just didn't understand I'd had a body out of mind experience (isn't it usually the other way round?). I just need to show him I'm sorry and I'm his. I sent him a text.

A couple hours later in they came. There was great laughter and excitement. They'd seen monkeys throwing "poo" at one another. There were hugs and kisses all round. The kids were hungry, I made dinner, if you call macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, dinner—which our two do.

After dinner we worked together giving them baths, getting them into their PJs, and in bed. Things quieted down. Jim went to the family room and turned on the TV. I came in maybe fifteen minutes later and said, "When can we talk?"

"Right now, why? What do you want to talk about?"

"Last night."

"Oh that. Read the note."

"Jim, I did read the note, I want to find a way back. I want you to forgive me. What can I say? What can I do?"

"Oh, that's easy. Read the note."

"I guess you're not ready. I am so sorry to have hurt you. I will be ready when you want to talk."

I'd never seen him like this. Of course, I'd always been faithful. But this wasn't really like infidelity; it was a fantasy which would never come again. He'd see that, then we'll go through the anger, I'll beg, and he'll forgive.

"Great."

I sighed a deep breath of relief; he said great. That had to mean he'd be ready to talk at some point. We went to bed early. I told him I wanted him to make love to me.

"Read the note."

"You really want me to get tested?"

"No. I really don't care whether you are tested. I only require that if we have sex, any time in the future, you present a certificate saying you are disease free."

"You want to get back at me. I get it."

"Linda, I don't want anything from you. I don't want it now, or later, or ever. You demonstrated last night that you are a person who will run off with a total stranger, and I only presume he was a stranger, you may have been fucking him and the third fleet for months or years, for all I know. I don't want my dick to fall off from some awful plague one of these fuckers carries. Get tested, come out clean, we will have sex. Don't get tested. We won't have sex. It is all the same to me."

"Jim, those hateful things are unfair to me..." He raised his hand palm forward, indicating stop. I paused. I thought,

He is so angry I spent the night fucking Marc; he can't get beyond it.

"Linda, this is the last of these conversations I am going to be a participant in. It is in the note. You don't like it. Tough. I did not like last night. It brought about the note. Live with it or move on." He rolled over and went to sleep.

Well, clearly "great" didn't mean we'd be talking soon. It is too early. Emotions are running high. I'll wait. We have been such a perfect couple. He cannot hold this against me permanently. When the group talked about being approached by some perfect physical specimen, and Marc was that; no one said they'd even try to resist. We wouldn't think about it, we'd just do it. That's just what I did. Who would have thought it would hurt him that badly? I'll take it slowly, he'll come around. He just has to.

Two weeks passed. We were all lovey-dovely in front of the kids, cordial when they went to bed. He never made a move toward me. It was mystifying, in a way. No fighting meant the emotions were still too raw, that meant wait. We got along, so I decided to see if he'd calmed any.

"Jim, it's been a while. I would love to make love tonight."

"Read the note."

Well, crap. I guess I had better go to a clinic and get some tests. Why hadn't I done that? I kept believing this was anger, he would come around. If I ignored the note, it would go away. It is going to take longer than I thought. But clearly it would happen. It must.

This was a big deal, sure. But, when his anger went away, he could tell me what a slut I'd been; I'd agree, and we'd work our way back. Now I could see that wasn't coming soon. Normal was clearly a way off.

I had to be as close to perfect as I could be. I had a flash-back that Marc had called his phone from mine and put his name in my contacts. I panicked. Quick as could find it, I deleted it. It really had been just a one-off. I could be whatever he wanted and not worry about how slutty it made me. It would not happen, again. A big part of a fantasy is being something you otherwise could never be. Been there, done that, time to win Jim back.

So, the next step was some health certificate. I really did not want the humiliation. I hemmed and hawed, not wanting to tell our family physician about my fling. Now it was April, I had to do something, I went to the local health clinic. That's an adventure to promote celibacy. I looked at the people awaiting tests or results and mused, these are my peers. It was a sobering reality. The clinic told me I'd have most of the results in a couple of days, the letter about a week or ten days later. Swell.

Finally, the letter came. I opened it and was relieved. I put my notice of my sexual health on Jim's desk and said nothing about it. After dinner I noticed the letter was gone. I told Jim of my interest in making love. He smiled and asked if I had condoms. "Why would I have condoms?" I nearly snarled. He'd really pissed me off.

"I just hoped you used them."

"Used them? Used them!" I said louder than I should have. "When would I use condoms?"

"Well, as I understand condoms, you wouldn't. Men you are with sexually would hopefully use them."

"Jim! Since that one night, there have been no men."

"Oh, I thought it was just the one."

"Jim..." I stopped. He was baiting me. He was making a point. I took a deep breath and calmed myself. In as sweet a tone as I could muster, I said, "It was just one. It was just one night. It will never be again."

"So, you're saying you don't have condoms, then."

Tears came to my eyes. It wasn't the words; it was the total indifference in the words. It had been over two months and no sex. But anger was not going to help me. This was my mess to resolve. "No, I don't. I'll get some."

"Oh, I'll be happy to pick some up. Maybe I'll have time tomorrow." He smiled. Not a smirk—like he'd won this round. A legitimate smile like he appreciated my acceptance that he'd get them. "When I have them. I'll let you know."

"That would be fine. You do that—if you get the chance." I said with as much sarcasm as I could. Suddenly, I wasn't as horny as I'd been, somehow.

He turned and walked away. It is funny, not roll around on the floor laughing, funny; peculiar. He continued to be level and without any emotion around me. In a marriage, you learn to pick up on emotional cues. Your partner is happy, sad, playful, angry, and all manner of emotions. Often, they don't say anything about their emotion, and you must decide—do I poke the bear?

This was entirely different. There was no emotion. It was like he was dealing with some stranger. Very matter of fact. I had to find a way to break through that blasé exterior.

Crap! What if it is not an exterior? I could be in real trouble here. I cannot get him to be angry at me and it is beyond hypocrisy to be mad at him. I am on uncharted ground.