Hi everyone, I have resubmitted this story as there were so many mistakes in the original so if you read the first one don't bother with this one it's the same story. Also, I failed to put a tag on my first attempt so to some it's a new story. I have run this story through MS Editor and Grammarly. This is written in British English.
The story itself is pretty standard stuff you will have read a dozen times on Literotica and I have unashamedly taken the first part of IN THE END IT WAS FRANKS GAME, By Gstein, a thoroughly good read. That story was itself taken from February Sucks by George Anderson. I didn't know this at the time of writing this story. Gstein's story is in brackets.
Please note
this story contains both sex and violence.
((As waiters and busboys bustled around him and hastily cleared the table of plates, saucers, cups, glasses and utensils; and straightened the black table decorations that embarrassingly proclaimed that someone was now forty years old and over the hill, Frank Walker sat alone at one end of the long table where he and other partiers had just finished a lavish dinner.
A little way down the table from him were a couple of partiers who were also still seated and engrossed in their phones. And, at the far opposite end of the table, a handful of people were standing around talking and laughing. But, except for Frank and these few stragglers, the dining table was vacant since the rest of the partiers had left to take restroom breaks, make phone calls or just stretch their legs before the dessert after dinner drinks and coffee were served and the party resumed.
But at that moment Frank wasn't on his phone. He wasn't thinking about the party and the fine dinner they had just finished. And, he certainly wasn't thinking about the birthday cake that the waiters would soon be bringing to the table.
Instead, Frank was pondering the handwritten note a waiter had slipped to him that read...
"
Beware! Marc LaValliere is going to steal your wife. And beware of the two men who are with him, they will take you out if you try to stop him. He plays his wife-stealing game here very often. Looks like you are the victim of his game this week. Nothing we can do but warn you and suggest that you and your wife should leave now! Sorry for your trouble.
"
The note was unsigned but read like it was from the management of the restaurant and lounge.
It was a sinister warning and after he read the note, and then read it again, he paid more attention to his wife who was, again, out on the dance floor with Marc LaValliere. And now what troubled him was that, for the second time, they had moved to the back of the dance floor and practically out of his view. But he did catch glimpses of them and it was enough for him to see that LaValliere was holding his wife very close and she appeared to be enjoying the experience.
Ever since they had arrived at the party Marc LaValliere had been coming to their table and asking his wife to dance. Frank hadn't objected and Brooke accepted his invitations to dance, every time.
But now Frank had had enough of LaValliere dancing with his wife and the note clinched his decision to go onto the dance floor and cut in. But just as he got up from his chair the song ended and he saw that LaValliere and Brooke were coming off the dance floor.
Relieved that he wouldn't have to make a scene, Frank sat back down and waited for LaValliere to escort his wife back to the table. But this time, instead of bringing her back to the birthday party, they went to Marc's table where they stood and talked for several moments.
Frank was watching them.
And after a couple of minutes, LaValliere walked away from Brooke and his two friends and it appeared to Frank that LaValliere was leaving the restaurant and lounge. And, as LaValliere walked toward the exit, Brooke nonchalantly strode over to Frank, picked up her handbag, told him that she was going to the restroom and then she turned and walked away. But after she took a couple of steps, she stopped, turned around, and with a peculiar look on her face, she told Frank that she loved him and she would see him later. Then she turned and continued walking in the direction of the restrooms.
Watching his wife move through the restaurant toward the hallway where the restrooms were located, Frank got the idea that there was something wrong with the way she said that she was going to the restroom. And the way she stopped and told him that she loved him and would see him later, seemed odd. Her demeanour was not that of someone going to the restroom. Instead, she looked and acted like a person leaving to go do something other than simply going to the restroom. So, Frank got up from the table and went after her.
And he had not taken any more than a few steps when, as the note had warned him, LaValliere's two companions got up from their table and intercepted him.
Now, Frank Walker made his living by handling situations for organizations. He was a corporate fixer. Almost every week he boarded an aeroplane and flew to somewhere in the world where he straightened out businesses, and other types of organizations that had run off the rails and were in some kind of upside-down administrative, operational, or financial situation.
Almost every day Frank dealt with ego and power-driven top-level executives, officers, directors and senior managers who got to where they were through politics, backstabbing, lying, cheating, bullying and intimidation.
Almost every day Frank had to deal with hard-nosed front-line managers and supervisors who bullied and intimidated workers and took pride in being just downright ruthless.
Going into these situations, to make changes that impacted people's lives and livelihoods, it was not uncommon for Frank to be confronted, intimidated and even threatened. One time he was threatened by a drug cartel because he working on a project to relocate an American manufacturer from Mexico back into the States. Frank didn't back down from their threats and his client relocated to Alabama.
Frank was good at his work and he thrived in those situations where people threatened him. He loved nothing better than taking on the egoists, power mongers, ruthless and dangerous. In fact, it was his game.
So, when Mark LaValliere's large and athletic but young and naive teammates confronted him it didn't take Frank but a few moments to turn the tables on them the thug on Franks's left put his arm out straight and placed his palm flat against Franks's chest.
“Where are you going old man he said with a smirk?”
Frank put both of his hands against the thug's hand so hard that he could not move away Frank then stepped forward half a pace trapping the thug's hand against his chest he then bent forward sharply twisted to one side and dropped to one knee breaking the thug's wrist, the thug to his right was coming to his friend's rescue when Frank stood up bringing his right fist up in a reverse hammer blow straight into thug number twos balls there was a scream like a stuck pig and number two collapsed in agony. Frank continued towards his wayward wife.
So now, with Marc LaValliere's buddies out of the way, Frank hurriedly went on after Brooke and when he caught up with her she was almost at the rear exit of the restaurant and lounge.
"Brooke," he hollered.
Either she didn't hear him, or she ignored him but regardless she didn't stop and continued to walk on toward the door.
Frank picked up his pace, shortened the distance between them, and hollered at her again.
"Brooke! Where are you going?"
This time Brooke stopped, turned around, and faced her husband, she appeared annoyed and demanded, "Frank! What are you doing here?"
Frank looked at her and saw there was something about her behaviour that wasn't right. She was cold to him, and it was obvious that she was irritated that he had caught up with her.
"I'll ask you the same thing, what are you doing here?" he asked.
Brooke thought for a few moments before answering him.
"Frank, I'm going...," she said, but then stopped in mid-sentence.
Frank looked at her in the eye and asked her again, "Where are you going?"
Brooke looked away from Frank and thought, "Damn, this isn't supposed to happen. He isn't supposed to be here."
"Frank..."
Brooke started to speak again but stopped. Because she had to think about what she was going to tell him. She knew that there was no point lying, she had to tell him the truth. She had to tell him where she was going. But it would be awkward for her to tell and painful for Frank to hear.
Earlier in the evening Brooke had by chance met Marc LaValliere. Coming back from the restroom she passed near Marc's table. He noticed her, got up from his table and politely stopped her and introduced himself, and for just a couple of moments, he engaged her in small talk. Then Brooke continued to her table and joined Frank and the rest of the partiers.
A little later on, when the party was in full swing, the lounge band came out and started their first session of the evening. Then, not too long after the band began to play, Marc LaValliere came over to the table of partiers. Of course, everyone was thrilled that the local pro football star and sports celebrity stopped by. He was friendly, introduced himself, shook hands with all the partiers, took a few selfies and signed a few autographs and then he asked Brooke to dance.
Brooke was mortified and turned him down, but Marc was gentlemanly persistent, some of the other partiers encouraged her, and Frank didn't say no, so she reluctantly accepted his invitation.
Needless to say, Brooke was apprehensive as Marc escorted her from the party and out to the dance floor.
But once on the dance floor, Brooke found that dancing with Marc was an experience she never imagined. He was a young, handsome, virile, pro-athlete and he could dance. And while she danced with Marc he touched her in the way she liked to be touched. He held her in the way she liked to be held. He talked to her in the way she liked to be talked to. He said things she liked to hear. Marc set her at ease and she never again turned down his invitations to join him on the dance floor.
And as the evening went on, and after more dances, and getting comfortable with one another, her attraction to him grew stronger and it was, unmistakably, a sensual attraction.
Then, later on in the evening, came the dance where he moved them across the dance floor and into the shadows. There he embraced her, kissed her, felt her, and told her that she had to be, that she must be, the perfect love machine and he had to have her. He told her that he wouldn't take no for an answer. And he proposed that they leave and go to his home where in privacy and comfort they would, without any inhibitions, have each other. And he vividly described to her how they would have a night of debauchery and he would take her sexuality to a level of eroticism that she had never before experienced. It would be only one night, but it would be one night that she would always remember.
Brooke was spellbound.
And after that dance, while eating dinner with Frank and the other partiers, Brooke pondered Marc's proposal. It was unsettling for her to think about just leaving Frank and the party and going with a man, who was practically a stranger, to his home. But the titillating thoughts of spending the night with Marc LaValliere sent a shiver up her spine, and she knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to go with him.
