February Sux

While inspired by George Anderson's February Sucks, this isn't an alternate version, more of a re-imagining, with permission.

I know the last thing that many want to see is ANOTHER February story, but I honestly feel that I have a different take on this, and when the Muse speaks one must listen.

This has been a long effort for me, leaving and coming back to it several times. During that time there have been several (many?) other versions, some of which have used things that I also have. I can only ask that you take my word that I thought of these on my own.

My usual thanks to my Very Sweet Inspiration blackrandl1958 for her guidance, and of course her editing.

*****

It was a special night in February. No, it wasn't Valentine's Day, or a birthday or an anniversary. Well, it WAS an anniversary of sorts; it was the fifth anniversary of the reconciliation of Jim and Linda Peterson after her affair, or her "fling," as she preferred to call it.

They were with four other couples, which was also a sort of reconciliation, as they hadn't gathered as a group during those five years, and only sporadically with individual couples, particularly Dee and Dave, as Jim still blamed Dee for a lot of their troubles, not that Linda wasn't responsible for her own behavior.

They had a hotel room for the night, and the kids were staying with Mrs. Porter, so they were free to let loose. She had a special blue dress that she wouldn't even let him see until she changed into it in their hotel room. It was a perfect match for her sparkling blue eyes.

As they headed for the elevator, Linda made a mad dash back to the room, she said that it was a surprise for Jim.

They had a nice dinner in the dining room at the Madison, then made their way to the club. The hotel had an arrangement with the club that guests at the hotel didn't have to pay a cover charge. They still had to make a reservation, and it was a good thing they did, as there was no way their party of ten would have been able to get a table otherwise.

They had danced to a few songs, and shared some appetizers when Dave asked Linda to dance.

"I'd love to, Dave," she said, "and I would another time, but I want to make tonight special for Jim and me. I'm only dancing with him tonight."

There was a stir as a new group came into the club.

"Hey, isn't that Marc LaValliere?" Phil was craning around Jim to see.

"It is, it is!" Dee squealed excitedly. Marc LaValliere was the star tight end on the city's football team.

Linda and Jim both knew who he was, but weren't very interested in anything besides each other just then. They let the conversation wash over them, holding hands under the table.

The band started up again, and before Jim could ask Linda if they should dance there or back at the hotel, there was a stir on the other side of the table.

"He's coming over here!" Jane said, "Maybe he'll ask me to dance." She didn't notice Phil's dirty look.

Jim could feel Marc standing beside them, then he said, "Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?"

He was holding his hand out to Linda, but as she tried to pull away, Jim held her hand tighter.

"GENTLEMEN always ask a lady's escort's permission before asking her to dance," Jim said, adding, "You ARE a gentleman, aren't you?"

"Jim, it's just one dance," Linda said.

"What happened to, 'I'm only dancing with Jim tonight?'" he asked.

"But, Jim," she said, "It's Marc LaValliere."

"I don't care if he's the fucking King of England, this is supposed to be our special night."

Jim could tell that she wasn't happy as she said, "I'm sorry," and slumped back in her chair.

Jim wasn't sure if her "sorry" was meant for him or Marc, but Marc moved on to greener pastures, much to the disappointment of the ladies at the table, especially Dee.

"Why do you have to be such an asshole, Jim," Dee said. "It was just one dance."

"It was 'just one dance' on a night where she promised all her dances to me," he said. "It might be best if you kept your nose out of our business, given your part in nearly breaking up our marriage."

"Come on, Jim," Dave said, "There's no need to be rude."

"Dave, you may not care if your wife acts like a slut, and frankly I don't either, except when she tries to drag my wife down with her."

Dave started to get out of his chair, and Jim stood up, but Phil grabbed Dave's arm and pulled him back down.

Jim also sat back down, but a chill settled over the table.

Dee noticed Marc heading to the restroom.

"I need to go to the Ladies' Room," Dee said, looking directly at Linda.

"I think I need to powder my nose, also," Linda said, standing up to join Dee, and they both headed to the back of the club. Jim didn't notice the nervous looks from the other women at the table.

"What is it about women that they can't go to the restroom by themselves?" Phil said in an attempt to lighten the mood, but he barely got a half-smile from the rest of the group.

After about ten minutes, Dee returned to the table alone.

"Where's Linda? Is she okay?" Jim practically shouted.

"Relax, Jim," Dee said, smiling. "Linda is fine, she just has something to do. You don't need to worry about her. She is a grown-ass woman, you know."

"It's not her ass I'm worried about," he said, "but maybe I should be?"

Jim's friends started teasing him about how much he worried about Linda.

He put up with it for about five minutes, and when Linda still hadn't returned, he'd had enough. He got up and headed for the bar, taking an empty plate with him as an excuse. He approached one of the female bartenders.

"Excuse me, but my wife went to the restroom about fifteen minutes ago and hasn't come out. She never takes that long. Could you please go, or send someone, to be sure she's all right?"

The bartender gave him a dubious look, then there was a voice at his elbow.

"She's all right, you don't need to check on her." Dee was addressing the bartender.

"Everything's fine. I'll take care of this."

"What . . . why . . . but she went there with you, because you asked her," Jim said, totally confused.

"Jim, she's not in the restroom. She's left the club," Dee said.

"Left? Without me? Why? What's the matter? Why didn't she tell me? Where did she go? Is she all right?" He still didn't get it.

"Let's go to the end of the bar where there's some privacy." He just went where Dee dragged him. It was quieter in the dark corner at the end of the bar. Dee looked him in the eye.

"Jim, Linda loves you. She loves you and the children more than anything else in the world, and she always will, and you know it. But she's spending tonight with Marc."

He pushed her aside and stormed back to the table.

"Dave," he said, "Do you know what your slut of a wife did?"

"Jim, I told you I didn't appreciate you talking about my wife like that."

"Oh, yeah? Well, I don't appreciate her helping my wife slip out the back door with Marc Fucking LaValliere."

"She did what?! Is that true, Dee?"

"It's just one night, for God's sake," Dee said with her hands on her hips, as if she was talking to recalcitrant children. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"Jesus Christ, woman, have you already forgotten how you almost destroyed their marriage with your "Girls' Nights Out?" Tonight was celebrating the fifth anniversary of their reconciliation," Dave said.

"Oh, grow up! There wouldn't have been a problem if Jim wasn't so worried about his fragile male ego."

"God, now you've got me wondering what

you

were doing on those Girls' Nights Out! We'll talk about that later," he said as Dee turned white.

"Do you have any idea where they went?" Jim asked.

"I . . . I'm not sure. I think Marc said something about his house."

"Damn," Dave said, "that could be anywhere."

Jim finally had something to smile about as he pulled out his phone.

"Why are you smiling, Jim," Dave asked.

"Linda and I have "Find-a-Phone" on our phones," Jim said.

"What are we waiting for?" Dave said. "Let's go get them."

"Just one more thing," Jim said. "Ladies, your cell phones, please."

He was faced with a chorus of "Why?"

"I don't want anyone warning Linda."

It took some "encouragement" from their husbands, but all the cell phones were handed over.

Phil wanted to go along, and the other two husbands agreed to watch the women.

They went to the garage, and Jim was already checking Linda's location as they piled into Dave's car.

While he was doing that, his mind was in turmoil; just what would he do when they got there? How far might Linda have gone with Marc? Did it really matter? He would cross that bridge when he got there.

Jim was surprised that Marc didn't live in a gated community. Maybe he thought his popularity would protect him.

They had no trouble finding the right house, and the bright red Corvette convertible was kind of a tell-tale sign.

As they pulled up beside the Corvette, there was a dim light in what was presumably Marc's bedroom, with the faint sounds of music drifting down.

Playing a hunch, Jim gave the Vette a solid hip-check, setting off the car alarm.

"Hey, Marc," Jim said as Marc threw open the window, "come on down, and bring the slut with you!"

It just took a moment for the front door to open, and Marc was standing there, shirtless and shoeless, with his pants zipped up but unbuttoned. Linda was unsuccessfully trying to hide behind him, frantically trying to secure the top of her dress, She never even noticed the cum smeared on her face, but Jim saw it.

Marc looked like he might want to tussle, but Jim and Dave were standing their ground with tire irons, while Phil was recording everything.

"What do you jerks want?" Marc asked. "The bitch came with me on her own."

Linda flinched at his words.

"Oh, I don't want anything, least of all the slut. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaken. You can pick up her stuff any time this weekend."

"Why the fuck would I want her fucking stuff?"

"Well, you wanted her, and she'll need her stuff."

"I don't want to keep her, just wanted some fresh pussy for the night."

Linda looked even more embarrassed, if that was possible.

"You should have thought of that before you took her home. She's yours now, have fun!" Jim said as he, Dave and Phil hopped in the car and took off.

*****

Once they were gone, Marc turned back into the house, but Linda just stood there.

"Well, are you coming or not?" Marc said. "That was a decent blow job, but I've got another load just waiting to be dumped into your pussy."

Linda was put off by his crudeness, but figured that the damage was done, so turned and sadly followed Marc up the stairs. She noted that he didn't wait for her.

Marc dropped his pants, and he was already erect. He looked at her as if to say, "Well?" and she stripped out of her clothes and climbed onto the bed.

He didn't even give her a kiss, just chewed on her nipples a bit before slobbering on her pussy while mauling her breasts. It did nothing to turn her on, in fact it was painful, and his efforts, if you could call them that, were nothing like Jim's gentle loving, which never failed to give her at least one orgasm. The most she could say was that it provided some minimal amount of lubrication.

Unfortunately, Marc was a little thicker than Jim, and not a considerate lover, and was soon just ramming his cock into her, his pitiful attempt at lubrication not helping her very much.

At least he lasted long enough to give her a small orgasm before rolling over and dozing off.

Linda just lay there, quietly sobbing, wondering how she could have ruined her marriage for that.

Marc was soon awake, already ready for round two, and flipped her onto her hands and knees for a doggy fuck. She was thankfully still wet from the previous fuck, so it was more comfortable, and the new position stimulated her G-spot more and she had a much more satisfying orgasm before Marc came and was down for the count.

Linda walked stiffly to the bathroom to clean up and returned to the bed. She wouldn't spoon with Marc, and went to sleep with her back to him.

*****

It was a quiet ride back to the hotel garage.

Jim thanked the guys for their support and went back to the hotel, while Dave and Phil went back into the club.

Everyone was talking at once, wanting to know what happened, and Dave had to hold his hands up to settle everyone down.

"Where's Jim, where's Linda?" Dee asked.

"Jim went back to the hotel, the slut's still with the asshole," Phil said.

"Linda's not a slut; how can you talk about her like that?" Jane said.

Phil replayed the video on his phone, holding it out for them to see.

"In case you can't see it on the small screen, that's cum smeared on her face, and it's not Jim's."

The women couldn't look the men in the eye.

"While we'll never know what would've happened if the asshole had asked one of you instead of Linda, we certainly have our suspicions," Dave said, surveying the crestfallen women.

"What we DO know," he said, "is that MY lovely wife helped her, whisking her off to the restroom so that she could sneak out the back door, then distracted Jim so that he wouldn't be able to stop her. Believe me that she and I will be having a serious discussion about that."

On that note, the evening came to a crashing halt, as cash was tossed on the table and each couple made their separate ways back to the hotel.

*****

When Jim got back to the hotel room he saw the sheer negligee that Linda had apparently laid out for when they would have returned to the room. He wanted to burn it, but he didn't want to set off any alarms, so he dropped it in the toilet and peed on it. He didn't know if Linda would return to the room before housekeeping got there, but he hoped she'd see the symmetry with her pissing on their marriage.

Grabbing their bags, he went to the front desk to check out.

"You're leaving, Sir?" asked the desk clerk. "Was there something the matter with the room?"

"The room was fine," Jim said, and turned to leave.

He got his car out of the garage and made the lonely drive home. He pulled into his own garage, left the suitcases in the car and went into the cold dark house.

Tossing his coat onto the nearest chair, he wondered if he should wait up for Linda to return.

"Fuck it," he said to the empty house, and decided to at least try to get a good night's sleep.

Surprisingly, he was out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and slept soundly until he was awakened by the sun shining through the blinds.

He wasn't surprised to find that Linda hadn't come home, although he had had his hopes.

*****

Linda awoke to Marc's smelly cock in her face. She tried to turn her face away, but eventually gave up and repressed her gag reflex enough to get Marc hard enough to fuck her again.

He was mercifully quick, and she ran to the bathroom for a hot shower, scrubbing herself physically clean as she realized that she would carry the stain on her soul forever.

She got dressed and made coffee, then Marc drove her home.

*****

Jim couldn't stomach anything more than an English muffin and coffee, and was on his fourth cup when he heard the distinct rumble of the Corvette's exhaust pulling into the driveway.

It was just a moment later when he heard the car leave and Linda came in the front door. She still had the damn blue dress on, and he remembered that not only did he have her suitcase, but she probably couldn't get back in the room since he had checked out.

The dress looked a little the worse for wear, her damp hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she had washed off all of her fancy make-up.

"You couldn't even bother changing your dress?"

"Like you don't know that you took all my clothes with you, which I only found out after bribing the desk clerk to let me back in the room. Nice touch with the negligee, by the way."

Jim couldn't help smiling.

"I did think that it was rather symbolic, don't you?"

Linda started to say something, but thought better of it.

"So, where does that leave us, Jim?"

"I don't know if there is an "us" anymore, but I'd say it leaves you out the door."

"B . . . But why?"

"Three strikes and you're out."

"'Three strikes?' How do you figure three strikes?"

"The Girls' Night Out fiasco. Strike one.

"When you tried to dance with LaValliere. Strike two.

"When you snuck out of the club with him. Strike three."

"How can you count the dance? I never danced with him."

"No, but you wanted to. The only reason you didn't was because I stopped you.

"Then, knowing full well how I felt, you snuck out with him.

"Even if I was willing to give you a pass on the dance, sneaking out, going to his house and giving him a blow job would definitely be strike two, wouldn't you agree?"

Linda could only nod, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Then you spent the night, presumably getting the fuck of your life," he said with an arched eyebrow as she looked away.

"You didn't leave me much choice," she said defiantly. "You left me there with no way to get home."

"Are you saying that you asked him for a ride home and he refused?"

No answer.

"You couldn't call a cab or an Uber, or even call one of your "friends" to come get you?"

Still no answer.

"You couldn't even lock yourself in the bathroom? You HAD to fuck him? Excuse me if I seem skeptical."

Linda's tears were flowing freely now.

"I hope you remember the postnup you signed when we reconciled five years ago."

"No, please," she said.

"Don't worry, I'll be magnanimous, I won't enforce it to the letter, but I will insist on the house and primary custody, with liberal visitation, and a 60-40 split of other assets."

"Please don't take my babies from me," she cried.

"I'm not taking them, you lost them when you decided to spread your legs for Marc Fucking LaValliere. I hope it was worth it."

Figuring all hope was lost, Linda unleashed all of her sadness and regrets in a vicious outburst of anger.

"Oh, it was worth it all right! I think I had more orgasms in that one night than I've had in our entire marriage, and every one of them was better than any that I had with you."

Linda turned to head upstairs to pack her belongings, but she had one last parting shot.

"By the way, in case you were wondering, he was bigger and lasted longer than you."

Jim refused to let her see him cry, but as soon as she disappeared up the stairs, he let a few tear drops fall. He had no idea how much of what she said was true, or was just intended to hurt him, but in the end it really didn't matter. Just the fact that she could so easily lash out at him hurt more than any truth.

Jim's stomach was beginning to show the effects of all the coffee, so he took a couple of Tums and was returning to the living room just as Linda was coming down downstairs with a large suitcase and an overnight bag.

Linda tried to talk to him.

"Jim, I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things that I said," but Jim had already turned his back and returned to the kitchen.

Linda snuffled, wiped her nose and a tear from her eye and left their house. Jim waited until he heard her car leave before going back to the living room.

Sitting down heavily, he put his head in his hands, worried about what he was going to tell their children.

*****

Linda pulled up in front of her parents' house and closed her eyes, leaning her head back. She hadn't called them, she had no idea what to tell them, and certainly didn't want to tell them over the phone.

She finally had to face the music and got wearily out of the car. She left her luggage in the car, not that she thought that her parents wouldn't take her in, she was sure that they would. She simply wanted to talk to them first.