February Doesn't Need to Suck

From February Sucks.

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."

GA.

Still struggling to understand the caviler attitude of these women, I turned to Jackie. Jackie was the director of human resources. Although she had a Masters in Industrial Psychology, she didn't buy into the woke bull shit. She enabled the company to safely navigate the shoals of political correctness while remaining profitable. Rumor had it that she had arranged for a transmission in transition who had been insisting on using the women's restroom to get a severe ass kicking.

Unlike the rest of us, Jackie was in her forties. She was probably closer to fifty than forty. I knew that she'd celebrated her twentieth wedding anniversary a few years back. She was exactly the type of respectable, staid, married woman who would talk sense to her younger sisters. I asked Jackie, "what would you do in that situation?"

Jackie sipped her drink before she quietly asked, "that would depend on the exact situation that you are asking me about. Which scenario are you referring to? Are you asking me what I'd do if I was propositioned while I was out by myself, maybe with trusted friends, or if I was out with my husband?"

Astonished by Jackie's reaction, I examined her more closely than a married man should. While her not quite so little, black dress failed to conceal the fact that she was far more zaftig than is currently fashionable, the neckline was just low enough to reveal a tasteful hint of her undoubtedly deep cleavage. Most men my own age probably wouldn't describe Jackie as a MILF. However; most men her age probably would.

I continued to appraise Jackie as I contemplated her response. Suspended on a Gold chain to nestle between the upper curves of her formidable breasts was a Gold cross that proudly proclaimed her Christian faith. The impressive, diamond studded anniversary band on her left, ring finger combined with the far more modest, diamond engagement ring on her right, ring finger confirmed that she was a maturely married woman.

Satisfied that I was talking to the same woman that I'd worked with for over a decade I responded. "Assume that you're out with your husband when some famous athlete propositions you. Do you decline the offer or do you tell your husband to just suck it up?"

Jackie took a long sip of her drink, finishing it, as she contemplated her answer. I noticed that she had an empty glass in front of her and recalled that she'd had a few drinks during dinner. She probably wasn't drunk, but she was definitely relaxed. "I wouldn't be callous enough to tell my husband to just suck it up. However; I'd probably go with Trisha's answer. 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 the opportunity, and I'd see him sometime tomorrow."

I was once again astonished by Jackie's answer. I was equally surprised that she'd been able to repeat Trisha's answer so accurately. I refocused on the alternative scenario. "Okay, assume that you're alone or out with trusted women friends when some famous athlete hits on you. Would you accept his offer? Would you confess to your husband about it later or just keep it a secret?"

Jackie glanced at her drink as she contemplated her answer. The glass was empty except for some melting ice. She picked up her two empty drinks then got up to walk towards the bar. I assumed that she was to embarrassed to answer and was calling it a night. However; she ordered another drink when she got to the bar. Once the bartender had served her, she returned to our table.

As Jackie was walking towards us, I appraised her with a new appreciation. While she was definitely more voluptuous than is fashionable, her wide hips and thick thighs made her waist seem almost narrow. Her big breasts, which were swaying in response to her movements, made it impossible for me to ignore the fact that she had an almost classic, hourglass figure. She was somehow simultaneously sexy and matronly.

Jackie sat back down at our table, but directly across from me. She looked me in the eye as she said, "if the athlete in question was truly a famous, successful stud, I'd swear my friends to secrecy and accept his invitation."

I was once again amazed by her answer. I tried to look Jackie in the eye as I responded. However; my gaze was focused on her deep, milky white cleavage. She was leaning towards me at exactly the perfect angle to give me a spectacular view of her big breasts. Her lacy, low cut bra failed to conceal her dollar sized, dark brown aureoles. I was distracted by the sensation of my penis swelling to attention as I asked, "so you wouldn't tell your husband?"

Jackie answered, "I'd keep it a secret...unless maybe if I got pregnant."

Amazed I asked, "maybe? If you got pregnant?"

Jackie chugged half her drink before she answered. "There wouldn't be any reason to confess if I didn't get pregnant. Even if I did get pregnant, there'd still wouldn't be any reason to confess if the guy was White like my husband and I. However; if the stud was Black, I'd have some explaining to do. It would probably be better to confess soon after the tryst than in the delivery room."

I should have been indignant. However; the realization that I had a rampant erection tempted my response. "I can't believe that a respectable, religious, married woman like you would be that callous if you were involved in any of these scenarios!"

Jackie asked, "why would you presume that I've never been involved in any of these scenarios?" She then pulled out her phone and entered her photo gallery. She turned her phone around to show me a family portrait.

I had known that Jackie and her husband had kids. I hadn't realized that she had five children. They had their kids lined up between them, apparently based on age. Their oldest daughter looked a lot like her father, but she was blessed with at least the precursors of her mother's breasts. Their eldest son was about a head taller than his dad and powerfully muscled. He looked like a line backer while his dad looked like a quintessential nerd. He was a blonde rather than a brunette like both of his parents. The two younger daughters resembled their mom except that they hadn't blossomed yet. Their youngest child was another boy. He didn't look at all like his dad or his mom. His dark complexion made it obvious that his dad wasn't his father. For some reason, I suffered from no delusion that their youngest child was adopted.