Author's note: Again thanks for the constructive comments about my last submission. And thanks to Literotica for a chance to practice my writing for so many readers amongst the LW viewers.
Below is yet another story about people who DO NOT live next door. It includes a mismatched husband and wife who get a divorce and a bit of pain.
The dance instructor stood at the dance studio window looking out at the parking lot and watched her next student slide out of the passenger side door of the car. He obviously was consumed with love for the lady driving the car since he had bear hugged her to simply kiss goodbye. She immediately had good vibes from watching them embrace as her mind raced ahead to the Professional-Amateur (Pro-Am) Regional Championships coming Saturday night and knew that a rock stable home life was a vital ingredient when training hopeful ballroom dance champions.
Angie Mantel is in her mid-forties and a professional ballroom dancer with a resume that lists dancing credits in 20 countries. When she and her dance partner are not performing in paid exhibitions or in competitions, She teaches dance lessons along with the other 20 independent dance instructors who rented instruction space in this major big-city studio. Her dance partner teaches also in the rented space next to hers.
The student on her mind now - about whom Angie has dreams of his becoming a professional dancer - is Morton Johns. After getting out of her car, he had just watch his wife drive out of the parking lot, and was now walking into the building for today's lesson - there would only be one more lesson after today before the BIG event. Morton had been training for 2 months taking two or three lessons weekly to compete in the Pro-Am regional meet this coming Saturday night at a major downtown hotel. The mid-twenties journeyman electrician, i.e., the dance 'leader,' had all the patterns down pat for each of the three dance routines the student would perform with his teacher. She played the role of 'follower.' Morton's amazing muscle memory bolted the professional's attention to him even in their first training lesson for the coming event. Their focus soon turned to style and technique as the judges graded highly precision dance steps which would radiate a sense of grace and elegance while dancing with his professional instructor. Technique had been their practice goals for the past six weeks.
Morton was rare, in that he was a natural dancer - light on his feet, tall, handsome, mid 20s, an almost natural 'leader' on the dance floor, and had almost unique muscle memory. He was, at the same time a very strong man though with average size arms for a 6'2" man - he could, for example, lift his teacher's 107 pounds above his head with one large hand and spin her around with no visible evidence of muscle strain. This 'overhead baton' pattern was part of the choreography they had been practicing for the preceding two months for Saturday's competition - five more days. He told his teacher when he signed the lesson contract, "I want to excel in something - My wife has just become a celebrated scratch golfer around her club house at the links where she plays with girl friends - and I want to be as impressive on the dance floor."
After the 'feel-good-I-am-ready' lesson was over, Morton went to the adjoining rent space and had a seat to wait for his carpool ride home. Marilyn Candles was a divorced twenty something who, too, was practicing for the same competition Saturday night, except as a 'follower.' Morton and Marilyn had met at one of the studio wide dance parties - a very crowded affair where students of all 20 instructors would mingle and practice their newly learned dance skills. As the two got to know each other, they found out that they not only have very much in common but they also happen to live in the same vast apartment complex. In time they were so very comfortable in each other's arms dancing they started excluding others as partners. But both instructors of the two students encouraged them to dance with others to improve their skills. They did reluctantly and when he started to spend very little time in Marilyn's arms, Morton even thought about a clandestine affair with her since he felt so good in her presence. But, he knew - and knew that she knew - achieving excellence doesn't mix with sexual hanky panky so they never even touched each other off the dance floor, even as they would sometimes spend hours talking at a Starbucks enroute home after practice.
More than that, however, Morton was very much in love with his wife of 4 years. He still referred to her as his bride and a cheesecake photo was pasted on his locker at work. She, however, expressed zero interest in her husband's passion to dance. Likewise, Marilyn expressed zero interest in golf. They did enjoy many other things together, however. And they had what is often presumed to be a 'successful' but childless marriage. This included a good sex life where she would dress in sexy gowns and would drive Morton crazy before sexual contact. Then, both would orgasm at the same time almost every time they enjoyed each other's body. Morton told Joyce before they were married that he couldn't father children due to a childhood illness. But she was completely sure that she didn't want children. She wanted to be at the top in her profession, and children mattered not at all to her. And they had several mutual and other couple friends and did many things together.
That particular Tuesday evening Marilyn pulled into her numbered parking place and the two dancers said 'goodnight' to each other, and agreed that Doug would drive on Thursday afternoon. Doug made his way to his apartment and noticed that his wife's car was in her slot. He smiled and immediately thought about pussy as he walked in. "Joyce! I am home. Good lesson tonight!" When there was no answer he searched the whole apartment only to find a hand written note from her on the dining table: "Morton, I flew to Las Vegas after saying goodbye to you this afternoon, with a group of friends from the Links. My return ticket is for next Monday arriving about 5 or so. We can decide together what to do about 'us' at that time. I know you are in a dance contest this weekend and good-luck to you. Joyce"
Morton already felt the first pangs of the collapse of his male ego. Then he went to her clothes drawer and found that all 4 of her sexy gowns he had bought for her were missing as were her two party dresses that had hung in their closet. This knowledge was a blow between the eyes. He immediately, and erroneously, assumed that his sterility was the base cause, though not the immediate cause of her running off. At that point he went to the kitchen and got a half empty bottle of wine from the refrigerator and started drinking from the bottle, even though he had not had dinner.
He finished that bottle and opened another, trying to watch a movie on the TV. He went to 'sleep' about halfway through the second bottle and then woke up shortly and rushed into the bathroom to 'pray to the porcelain god.' He tried to eat some food, but the thought of eating anything made him even more nauseous. He took two days of sick leave and lay on his couch and watched TV both days, although he did regain a small appetite so that he could keep the wine down. He kept seeing Joyce's picture on the TV and concluded that he was really fucked up drunk. His only 'consolation' is that he kept telling himself that this had to be his fault - in that he should never have married.
At about 4:00 P.M there was a pounding on his front door. There stood Marilyn ready to leave for the studio. Morton then remembered that he was to have driven them on this last practice day. Morton just stood in his underwear and house coat with body odor and a 3 day growth of beard on his face. "What in hell has happened to you," she asked?
"I got this note from my dear wife," he said while digging the note out of his housecoat, "And of course I am not worth a damn! I have got to call Angie M. and tell her the caper is off. ha ha ha."
"Damn Morton, you are drunk," as she started to read the note. She then looked at him and said, "Oh. I see. But on the other hand, you have two or three grand that you can ill afford invested in these dance lessons plus you bought a custom fit tuxedo for Saturday night. You need to pull yourself together and do this. Look, there are lots of good looking women available out in the singles world and some might even fit you - why do this to yourself over a woman who doesn't love you?"
"I hurt, Marilyn, and logically you are right, but I still hurt. ' Why suffer torment over a woman who doesn't love me' is exactly what I have been asking myself since Tuesday night. Anyway, drive yourself to the studio and tell Angie that this weekend is off for me before you start your lesson, will you?"
"Yes, Morton, now I must go."
Thirty five minutes later Morton had just started a porno movie when there was again a pounding at the door. He turned off the DVD and opened the door to face a very angry instructor, Angie Mantel.
"Come in, Angie, and I am sorry I look like and feel like hell! I am especially sorry that I have let you down."