February Sucks - a GTO Version

February Sucks -- a GTO Version

The following is my take on GeorgeAnderson's epic Sept. 11, 2020 tale, "February Sucks," and is presented here with his permission -- many thanks to GeorgeAnderson for allowing me to do this. If you haven't read his story yet, I encourage you to do so. Follow the link above.

The original premise, of course, remains the same, as does much of the lead-in. The major changes to the story start when the main characters are in the bar and Linda takes off with Marc. I did go through it and modified the punctuation and did minor editing.

FYI, there are aspects of BTB here, but there is also reconciliation. Oh, she does get burned and pays a price. I did try. I really did. I wanted to completely nuke her. In the end, I just couldn't do it. I am happy to state that I was successful in refraining from all BDSM in here. It really would have been easy to do, but I refrained. For those of you who are faint of heart, I should warn you that there is some female bisexuality towards the end. Sorry, couldn't help that. What do you expect from me? So there is some lesbian action. At least no one is being whipped or caned here.

...

February sucks. Big time. Let me rephrase that -- February would have to IMPROVE to suck big time.

It always does, unless you're one of those fortunate enough to live someplace that doesn't have much in the way of a winter. Every February sucks, but that particular February just seemed to out-suck all the rest.

I considered that as I sat on the balcony of my condo, sipping a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette. It's a nasty habit, I know, and one I gave up a long time ago when money was really tight. But money's not much of a problem now, and the truth of the matter is, I simply don't care much anymore.

I don't smoke around the kids, though. I don't want them picking up my bad habits, nor do I want to expose them to second-hand smoke. But they're with their grandparents this weekend, so I have some free time to sit and think.

The Worst February Ever in the entire History of Mankind started with two weeks when we literally didn't see the sun. Grey skies, high temperatures in the 20s and an occasional inch or two of snow. Everyone was looking forward to Valentine's Day as if it was their hope of salvation. It fell on Thursday that year, and so many people were taking the next day off that the editorial writers were saying we might as well shut the whole city down on February 15th.

My wife, Linda, and I had big plans for Valentine's Day, just like everyone else. Like everyone else, we awoke to two inches of new snow, with more falling rapidly. By mid-afternoon we were both sent home from work while we could still get somewhere: the whole city was shutting down. By the time we should have been getting dressed for our night on the town, all the roads were closed to non-essential traffic, so we changed into our cozy sweats instead.

The great Valentine's Day date, the dinner-movie-dancing one that was supposed to make up for the previous two weeks of unrelieved beastliness, was frozen pizza and "Frozen" with the kids. The only dancing we did that night was dancing Emma and Timmy, ages six and four, respectively, up to their bedrooms amid protests of "You know there won't be any school tomorrow."

After the kids were asleep, I handed Linda a glass of wine, sighing as I did so.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I said. "This isn't how it was supposed to turn out."

"It's okay, Jim. It isn't your fault, and it was fun looking forward to what you had planned for us. Besides, if nothing else, I got a new party dress out of it," she said in response.

"Which I haven't seen yet," I told her.

"You know the rule. You don't see it until you take me out in it," she said, her eyebrows raised. I looked at her, trying to imagine what she had bought, and how she would look in it. Everything she wears not only looks great on her, it reflects who she is. She started making her own clothes in middle school, and still does from time to time.

She makes many of Emma's dress-up clothes, too. Anyone lucky enough to see her when she's dressed up would think she's the most attractive woman in the room, but would have trouble figuring out why, because there would be hotter women there. I looked at the diamond ring I'd placed on her finger almost ten years before, as it flashed in the firelight.

"Thank you for saying yes, Linda. I love you." I raised my glass. "To us."

"I love you, too. To us," she responded with a smile. We sat for a moment, comfortably silent.

"Linda, I'm sorry I've been a bear these last few days," I said. "It's nothing you or the kids have done, and you deserve better from me. It's just this damn February, and this..."

"I know, Jim," she said softly. "I'm sorry, too; I've been just as bad. I think the hibernating bears have the right idea. We really should be sleeping until spring. We've all been on edge, even the kids. The people at my work are a lot worse than you, though. What about your work?"

"The same."

"Well, look at it this way, Jim. We have each other, we have the kids, we have our home, we know where our next meal is coming from..."

"Yeah, Wendy's," I said with a chuckle, remembering our first date so long ago. It was a running joke between us. I had met her in college. My parents had to cut off my support in order to pay my dad's medical bills, and I refused to take out a loan, so after tuition and books I literally had no money.

Linda was somewhat little better off, and had offered to treat me or go Dutch, but I wasn't having any of that, so I saved up to take her someplace nice. She had told me I was silly and said the object was to spend time together and get to know each other, and we could do that just as easily at Wendy's. So that's where we went, and the rest is history. We've moved up in class since then, but we still get Wendy's now and then for old times' sake.

"Seriously, though," I said. "How do people get through times like this if they don't have love?"

"Sometimes they don't." Linda shuddered. A high school boyfriend of hers had killed himself with booze and pills on Valentine's Day night a couple of years before.

"Well, we do, and we will," I said. I put down my glass and took both of her hands in mine. "Happy Valentine's Day, my beloved wife."

"Happy Valentine's Day, my beloved husband." We gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, then decided we really should move this to the bedroom.

We ended up getting the three-day weekend the editorial writers thought we should have, courtesy of about two feet of snow instead of the predicted eight inches. Everything was closed, but fortunately, hardly anyone lost power, and enough people had snowmobiles that anyone who really had to get somewhere could.

Our kids, of course, were ecstatic. Mom and Dad were both home all day, there was snow to play in and pizza to eat and movies to watch, not to mention no school. What more could they want? Linda and I were pretty happy about the situation, too. There was no pressure to be anywhere or do anything, and we could enjoy our family to our hearts' content.

Food wasn't a worry: Linda and I both grew up around here, so we always made sure we had plenty in advance with some to share, just in case. Emma and Timmy tired themselves out enough that they didn't even make a fuss about going to bed and slept like logs. That, of course, allowed Linda and me to content our hearts in ways for which we usually had to send the kids out of the house.

There were only a couple of things wrong that weekend, as far as I was concerned. We had hundreds of movies in the house, but the kids would only watch one. Frozen. Over and over and over again. Okay, it's a sweet little story, and has some good songs, but come on! And Linda still wouldn't model the dress for me, or even let me see it.

"Taking me out in it means out, not in," she said, with a flirty little smile.

"What if I promise to take you out of it? Is that close enough?" I asked.

"Nice try, but no cigar," she said, refusing to budge an inch.

The real world returned early Sunday evening when the plows came through our neighborhood. School and work were on for Monday, and there was sighing from all of us as we got ready. Just before bedtime, Emma and Timmy marched into the living room, freshly scrubbed and in their night clothes. Big sister was the spokesperson, of course, standing as straight and tall as she could.

"Mommy, Daddy, this weekend was the best ever! Thank you for playing with us, and watching our movie with us, and all being together for three whole days in a row. We love you." With that, Daddy's girl climbed into my lap and Mommy's boy into Linda's. After giving us the sweetest kid-hugs in the world, they switched parents and did it again. I looked over at Linda and her eyes were as wet as mine.

"We love you, too," I managed to croak out. "We're so glad that you're our kids."

That night, Linda and I made sweet love until we felt like we had merged into one being. We couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces the next morning, and neither could the kids. Suck-laden February settled back in, though, and the three-day weekend became just another memory.

Linda and I had just collapsed against each other in the sofa in the living room after finally getting Emma and Timmy down for the night, when her phone rang. I growled and uttered something, but I don't remember what it was.

"It's Dee, I have to get this," she said. We had a loose circle of five couples we hung out or went out with from time to time. We had all met as married couples, so there were no uncomfortable "back when you were single" moments. We all had the same ideas about fidelity -- that is, you just did it, it simply wasn't negotiable. At least I thought so at the time.

That way when we went out, we could dance with each other's spouses if we wanted some variety, and know we were safe. We were closest to Dee and her husband Dave. She and Linda were almost what you might call "best friends forever." Linda made an "I'll keep this short" gesture as she answered the phone.

I could see Linda getting more excited as she talked with Dee. She was all but glowing when she ended the call and plopped herself into my lap.

"So what was that all about?" I asked. My face couldn't help reflecting her smile.

"Well, my dear husband," she said with a smirk. "I know you think this horrible February has gone on just about long enough."

"You got that right," I said, reaching for my glass of wine. Linda grabbed my wrist to stop me, and firmly placed my hand on her slender waist.

"Well, we've been bemoaning the fact that not only is this the worst February in the history of the human race, we have to put up with an extra day of it," she said.

Something about that didn't reconcile with the smile on her face and I told her so.

"That's because Dee had this wonderful idea," she said. "The extra day of horribleness is on a Friday. What if we all got together, got sitters for the kids, had a really nice dinner, then some dancing at a good club, and then had hotel rooms for the night? That way we could get a little bit crazy and not worry about driving home, and we would end this horrid month right." I liked the idea, but I had a couple questions.

"What about getting from the club back to the hotel? Wouldn't we have to drive?" I asked. Smack me if you want, but I'm almost always the guy who asks what can possibly go wrong with a plan.

"That's the best part, Jim," she said, sounding excited. "You know the Madison uptown? We've eaten there, remember? There's a dance club some of Dave's co-workers go to in the next block over. They have a live band coming in on Friday night, and there's no cover if you eat at the Madison! Oh, and Phil and Jane have already asked Mrs. Porter to take their kids overnight, and they say she's fine with ours, too."

"Hmmm, I have to think about this," I said, acting cerebral. I really didn't, but I knew if I acted like there was a concern, she would find a way to convince me. Instead, she grabbed a sofa pillow and bashed me over the head with it.

"Ow! Okay, okay, I've thought about it. Let's do this. But there's one condition," I told her.

"What's that?" Linda was looking at me suspiciously. I took her sweet face between my hands and looked into her blue eyes.

"You wear the dress you bought for Valentine's Day, that I still haven't seen," I said.

"As you wish, my lord," she said with a smile. "Your wish is my command."

It was blue. The dress, that is. Don't ask me to describe what kind of blue it was because I can't. All I can tell you is that it made her blue eyes look like they would glow in the dark. It was long sleeved and high necked, and the skirt came below her knees, but it was anything but a granny dress.

The bottom of the skirt was flared, and rippled just enough as she walked to attract attention. When she danced, it would flirt all by itself. The smooth fabric made you want to run your hands all over it, as it concealed and displayed the womanly shape underneath. Linda smiled as she slowly processed down the stairs to where I waited for her, dumbstruck and gaping.

"Dear Jim," she said, softly. She closed my mouth with a gentle finger under my chin. I swallowed, but still couldn't speak.

"It's still just me, the same old me as always. You don't have to flatter me, though I admit I love it when you do," she said.

"You don't understand. You don't know just how amazing you look. You..." Words failed me. I took her slim hands in both of mine, bowed and kissed them. I looked up to see her eyes shining and moist and saw the slightest tremble in her smile. I nodded. She understood.

The ten of us met at the restaurant. It was crowded on a Friday night, but we had reserved a large enough table that all ten of us could eat together. We laughed and talked and enjoyed a great meal, happy in each other's company and glad that February was finally ending. Linda was the most attractive woman in the room, and I must have told her so a half dozen times. I touched her arm or her shoulder or her hand as often as I could find a reasonable excuse. She returned the favor and smiled into my eyes. This was going to be a night to remember.

We checked into our rooms before we headed over to the club. Neither Linda nor I handle alcohol very well, so I usually drew designated driver duties. I was glad I wouldn't have to do that tonight. Not that I minded; my friends' safety was important to me, but I was looking forward to having Linda to myself as soon as possible. That seemed to be her idea, too. She excused herself to go to our room alone for a few minutes, and had her suggestive little "I'm gonna get you so good" smile on her face when she came back.

"We don't really have to spend very long at the club, do we?" she whispered as we walked. I knew how much Linda enjoyed dancing with our friends, so she might as well have said, "I'd better not have to wait too long before we're alone together, preferably naked." I grinned right back at her.

"Your call, babe," I said. She punched my upper arm lightly, then wrapped her hands around it and hung on.

We had reserved a table for ten at the club, and it was a good thing we had. It seems a lot of other people were busy forgetting February, but they weren't too busy to notice the five women in our group.

"You're attracting a lot of attention, babe," I whispered. "You're clearly the most attractive woman in the room, as usual."

"Oh, you." She looked up at me, lightly pressing a soft breast into my arm. "You know flattery will get you everywhere."

Neither Linda nor I are great dancers, but we didn't disgrace ourselves, either. We just don't care that much -- we're out there to enjoy each other, not to provide entertainment for everyone else. So, I danced with the love of my life, with occasional breaks for hot wings and a drink. I had gone to replenish the wings. When I came back, Dave was asking Linda to dance. I heard her response.

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

Was I proud? Happy? You'd better believe it. I distributed the wings and whispered into Linda's ear.

"So is it time to leave yet?" I asked.

"Right after you brought a fresh plate of wings? What are you thinking? We'll both need our energy for what I have planned," I said, raising an eyebrow. She gave me that look again and held my hand under the table.

A few minutes later, the band took a break. In the relative quiet, we could hear loud laughter from another table, and turned to look.

"Hey, isn't that Marc LaValliere?" Phil asked, craning his neck to see around me.

"It is, it is!" Dee squealed excitedly. Marc LaValliere was the star tight end on the Sharks, our city's professional football team. Unlike many others on the team, he made his year-round home here. He had the reputation of being a genuinely good guy, and he was as well known for his community activities as for his exploits on the field. Marc became the main topic of conversation at our table, as the guys talked about his football feats and the women praised his good works and good nature.

"It doesn't hurt that he's a hunk, either," Dee added. Linda and I both knew who he was, but we weren't very interested in anything besides each other just then. We let the conversation wash over us, holding hands under the table.

"Hey, you two, get a room!" Dee said. Linda and I looked at each other. We hadn't even been kissing. Well, not really kissing, anyway. My feeding her wings didn't count. Besides, we'd already gotten a room. We were saved from further embarrassment when the band started again.

"Shall we dance here, or upstairs?" I whispered to Linda. Before she could reply, Jane interrupted.

"Look! He's coming this way!" she exclaimed. Sure enough, LaValliere had left his table and was heading for ours. I was amused by the reaction of the women at our table. Four of them primped and strutted, all but saying "pick me, pick me!" Talk about an embarrassing display. If you think a woman can't strut while she's sitting down, think again. Linda looked down and held my hand a little tighter.

"Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?" he asked. He stood behind Linda's left shoulder, holding his hand out to her.

I felt her gasp as she dropped my hand as if it were a hot potato. I watched, dumbstruck, as she turned her back to me without a word, gave Marc her right hand and gracefully rose from her chair without even giving me a second look. I noticed her hand practically disappeared in his large paw. I also noticed the look of rapture on her face. At that moment, I had simply ceased to exist in her mind.

"Hey, man, now my feelings are hurt. I thought she was just dancing with you tonight," Dave said as he needled me.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," I grumbled.

"Relax, Jim. It's just a dance," Jane said as she tried to soothe me. I tried to believe her, but I couldn't help having a bad feeling about this.

The band played a couple of fast songs, and our whole table watched them dance. So did everyone else in the room. Marc was good, far better than I was, and Linda was clearly enjoying herself. Her partner and her dress combined to show her off to perfection.

"Don't they look great together? Come on, Jim, let's join them," Dee invited, clearly trying to distract me.

"Thanks, but no," I said abruptly.

The next song was a slow one. I watched Linda melt into his arms, fitting perfectly as though she belonged there. He was good at that, too. Lots of practice, I'll bet, I thought to myself. Marc whispered something to Linda. She smiled sweetly as she responded. He wasn't doing anything I could legitimately object to. He didn't dance any closer to her than I danced with Dee or Jane -- his hands didn't go anywhere they weren't supposed to.

Another slow song, a ballad this time. I could see the band leader taking his cues by watching my wife and her new partner. Marc smiled as he held her in his arms. He was clearly pleased with whatever was going on. I'd seen enough and was determined to put a stop to it. I rose from my chair and felt Jane's hand on my arm.

"Wait, Jim. Let her have this. Don't ruin it for her," she said.

I jerked my arm free, and then looked at Linda's face. She clearly wanted to be exactly where she was, and nowhere else. She did not want any interference from me. In fact, I was nowhere in her thoughts, and it was obvious. I slumped back into my chair, broken-hearted. Finally, the song ended. Marc nodded at the band leader, who started a faster song. He and Linda left the dance floor, smiling at each other, but not touching, not even holding hands. Linda gave him a last brilliant smile as she turned toward our table and Marc turned toward his.

The difference between a woman's best smile and her second-best smile isn't much. Unless you know the woman well, you probably wouldn't notice it at all. As Linda neared our table and our eyes met, her best smile faded to her second-best. At that moment, I knew we had a problem.

"I keep telling you that you're the most attractive woman in here," I whispered in her ear as I seated her. I reached for her hand and held it in both of mine. "Is it time to take the next dance back to our room?"

For just the tiniest moment, I could have sworn Linda was afraid. Her eyes widened and I could feel her hand trembling. She recovered quickly, and looked away from me, across the table.

"I'm sorry, everyone, I just have to go to the restroom right now. Linda, come with me?" Dee asked. Her voice could be heard far beyond our table. I was too preoccupied to wonder why she had to broadcast this to the room at large. Linda looked at me apologetically.

"Sorry, Jim. I can use some freshening up, too," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. She rose and left, without answering my question. Of course, the conversation immediately turned to why no woman who is out with a group can possibly go to the restroom by herself. I had just started to wonder why my friends were working so hard to keep the conversation going on that topic, when Dee came back. She was alone.

"Where's Linda? Is she okay?" I asked, practically shouting.

"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 woman, you know." What was that supposed to mean, I wondered. It's true that I worried about Linda, but she worried about me the same way. I put up with the ribbing for about five minutes, and when Linda still hadn't returned, I'd had enough. I got up and headed for the bar, taking an empty plate with me as an excuse and approached one of the female bartenders.

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

The bartender gave me a dubious look. The plate in my hand gave me an idea.

"The wings are great, and she likes spicy food, but every now and then she gets a reaction. Really, I just want to know she's all right. Her name is Linda. Here, let me show you a picture of her," I said. I put the plate down and pulled up Linda's picture on my phone. The bartender was beginning to look somewhat sympathetic when there was a voice at my elbow.

"She's all right, you don't need to check on her," Dee said almost apologetically. She turned to the bartender. "Everything's fine. I'll take care of this," she said, placing a five-dollar bill on the counter. I wondered why the bartender looked at me with what seemed like sympathy as she pocketed the bill.

"What... why... but she went there with you? because you asked her?" I was completely confused.

"Jim, she's not in the restroom. She has left the club," Dee said. I felt as if I had just been punched in the gut.

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

"Let's go to the end of the bar where there's some privacy," Dee said. I just went where Dee dragged me. It was quieter in the dark corner at the end of the bar. She looked me 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 is spending tonight with Marc," she said.

I stood there with my mouth open, looking stupid as my whole world ended. Pictures whirled madly through my mind, or what was left of it. Linda at the top of the stairs in her beautiful blue dress. Linda at dinner. Linda at the club. Linda as we fed wings to each other. Linda in Asshole's arms. Asshole fucking Linda. My Linda. The mother of our children. The love of my life. My anger rose.

"So on what was supposed to be our special night, she left me for some asshole jock," I growled as I glared at Dee.

"Jim, she hasn't left you. She'll come home to you tomorrow, and you'll have plenty of other special nights together," she said. What was this woman smoking, I wondered.

"She didn't even have the guts to tell me to my face that she was leaving me? She just slithered out the back door like a snake," I said. "And you helped her."

"Jim, listen to me. She hasn't left you," Dee began.

"Well, if she hasn't left me, then where the hell is she? She sure isn't with me now, is she?" I was getting loud and didn't care who heard me.

"Please settle down, people are looking at you. Listen, I know this hurts for you, but it's just tonight. Linda knows, we all know, that you're the only man for her and you always will be. You're the good guy," Dee said condescendingly.

"Yeah, and we all know where the good guy finishes, don't we?" I said through clenched teeth.

"Jim, it isn't like that. You're making way too big a deal out of this. It's only tonight, then she'll come back to you tomorrow and everything will be just like it was before," she said. I snorted at her. If she really believed that shit, nothing I could say would make any difference anyway.

"You don't get it. There IS no tomorrow. So, tell me, friend, what was your role in all this? You didn't really need to go to the restroom, did you? My wife gave you the signal, right? She told you to stall me and keep me out of the way long enough for her and Asshole to make their getaway?" Dee looked down, embarrassed as she nodded her head.

"Yes, she asked me to do that, because she didn't want you to embarrass yourself by making a scene while Marc was here. She also asked me to make sure you remembered that she loves you, and she will always come home to you," she said.

Yeah, I'd remember exactly how much she loved me tonight, for a long time to come, I thought. I could feel my anger rise and my face turn red.

"More like she didn't want me to embarrass her as she walked away from her husband to spend the night with an asshole jock," I said. "I don't suppose it occurred to you, Friend, to remind her that she had a husband and a marriage, and she might lose them over this?" Dee looked me in the eye.

"No, it didn't," Dee said, "because I know she won't lose you over this. You're too good a man to let that happen. I told her how lucky she is. She's lucky because the man that every woman in the room wanted, wanted her. But she's even luckier that she has a husband who loves her enough to get past his hurt feelings and not make this a bigger deal than it should be. You know she'll be willing to do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, to make it up to you."

"What if it isn't possible to make it up to me?" I asked. "What if there is no way to make this right?"

"Jim, I know how much you love Linda, and how much she loves you. This doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just one night, a one-time experience, compared to all the years and all the love you two have together. It isn't a big deal, unless you make it one. I know she'll come home to you, and I know eventually, you'll be fine," she said.

Dee spoke gently but confidently. It was all I could do not to grab the stupid woman and shake her until her teeth rattled for spouting such nonsense. She must be living in some sort of alternate universe if that's what she really thought.

"So if Asshole had picked you, as you wanted him to, you'd have done the same thing?" I asked her.

"I would." She flung her answer into my face.

"Does Dave know that?" I asked her.

"No, and he doesn't need to, because I don't think it will ever happen," she said softly.

"Maybe I should tell him," I said.

"Jim, please don't. Don't think that way. I know you're hurting, but that won't help. Please come back to the table. Let us take your mind off it for a while. You haven't danced a single dance with me all night, you know," she said as she smiled.

"I wanted to dance with my wife, but thanks to you and her and Asshole, that's not an option anymore, is it? I also wanted to spend the night alone with her, but that obviously isn't happening either," I said. I turned my back on her and stalked back to our table.

The talk at the table stopped abruptly when I appeared. The averted eyes told the tale. All of our so-called friends now knew that my wife and Asshole were at that very moment making a cuckold of me. I wanted to strangle them. I wanted to tear the place apart. I wanted to find Asshole and kick his nuts into the middle of next week.

"Uh, Jim, are you going to be okay?" Dave asked hesitantly after he seated Dee. I wanted to tell him what Dee had said and ask if he would be okay, but I couldn't force the words out of my mouth. I guess I hadn't gotten over being the good guy yet. Oh yes, I would have to work on that.

"It depends on what you mean by okay," I said. There were a couple of nervous giggles.

"I mean, yeah, that was a shitty thing to do, but you two are going to make it, aren't you? You're not going to divorce Linda over this, are you?" Dave asked.

"I don't see why I shouldn't," I responded coldly. There was a collective gasp around the table.

"Why are you all acting surprised?" I asked. "We all know how we feel about cheating: once and done. We established that a long time ago."

"But Jim, it's Marc LaValliere..." Dee interposed.

"So what? I don't care who's fucking her. If it isn't me, that's that," I said angrily. I looked at Dave. "What would you say if it was Dee who walked out with Asshole to spend the night? Would you be okay with that?" He turned red in the face for a moment, then looked at his wife, who was now busy examining a spot on the floor.

"Jim, what about your kids? We all know how much you love them, and how much they need you. Think of them before you do anything," Jane said. Her kids were about the same age as mine and were best buds.

"You mean, like my wife is thinking about them right now?" I asked.

"Well, that's why you got a sitter, so you wouldn't have to think about your kids," Dee said. I thought she meant it to be funny, but it fell as flat as it deserved to. "Come on, Jim, it's just one night. It's an opportunity she'll never have again. You wouldn't divorce Linda over one night," she added.

"Why the fuck not?" I glared at her. An uncomfortable silence followed.

"Jim, try to think of it this way, maybe it will help," Jane said, trying to sound sympathetic. "What if the cover model from the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue was here tonight? Say she picked you out of everyone here to dance with, and then she offered to spend the night with you. Can you honestly say you wouldn't be tempted? Can you honestly say you would turn her down?" The pleading look in her warm brown eyes made her look like a winsome puppy dog, and was usually quite effective in getting her what she wanted. But it wasn't going to happen. Not tonight. I stood and looked down at Jane.

"Yes, I might be tempted, but I would turn her down," I said emphatically. "You see, I have a wife, and I don't want to hurt her. At least, that's what I'd have done before tonight."

There was another one of those deafening silences. I looked around the table at each of my former friends, all of whom were siding with my cheating wife. At that moment, I sincerely hoped never to see any of them again. A rather large and muscular bouncer made his way to our table.

"Is there a problem here, folks?" he asked in a deep baritone voice.

"Yeah, there is, a big one," I said. I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and dropped it on the table.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving," I said, putting up one hand. He nodded his head as I turned back to the others. "That will pay my tab. You're all covering for the slut I came with. You might as well cover her bill, too." I turned on my heel and stalked out of the club.

My anger cooled somewhat as I walked the block and a half to the hotel. It was replaced by the deepest sadness I had ever known. Linda and I were supposed to be making this walk together, holding hands, chaffing our friends about what they were going to get up to once they got to their rooms, and being chaffed in our turn. She was supposed to be holding my arm the way she used to, pushing her face into my coat sleeve when the conversation got too risqué.

Instead, I was alone. Alone, I rode the elevator, trying not to remember what Linda and I had gotten up to in other hotel elevators. Alone, I entered what was supposed to have been our room. Alone, I faced the wreckage of our special night. Alone, I faced the future, uncertain of what might happen.

I turned on the light and shut the door behind me. Suddenly, I was weary beyond words. I dropped my winter coat on the floor and slouched toward the bedroom. There was a Godiva chocolate on each pillow. Laid out in the middle of the bed was a bra and panty set that I hadn't seen before. They were dark blue, darker than her dress, edged with black lace.

In my mind's eye, I could see her modeling them, with that combination of love and sensuality in her eyes that was all her own, that had been all mine until tonight. I took the lacy little garments tenderly into my hands, as if holding them might bring her back to me. It didn't work. I wept bitter tears.

My wife, my lover, my best friend, had been taken from me by another man. He had casually, easily, plucked her from right beside me, as if he had every right to do so. He didn't care what she meant to me. All he saw in her was a pretty fuck toy for the night. And she had just let him! I didn't matter enough to her to inspire even the slightest resistance. It was as if she, too, thought he had a right to her, stronger than whatever right I had earned by almost ten years as a faithful, loving husband. Yes, it was supposed to be just one night. And the next morning, I supposed. So what? And what would he, and this night, leave in her heart and mind and senses? What could I ever do that would compare to, let alone compete with, the city's hero, the handsome stud, Marc "The Asshole" LaValliere?

I stopped weeping long enough to wash my face, then gathered my things. I left all her clothes, makeup, and toiletries there. Fuck her, she can come and get her own shit, or let them throw it away. I tossed the bra and panty set in the trash can. They meant nothing to me anymore. I went down and checked out of the hotel. I didn't care how Linda got back. The desk clerk looked confused as I went through the checking-out process.

"Is everything okay with your room, sir?" she asked.

"The room was fine, but my wife's stuff is still there in there. She will be by tomorrow to collect it." I said.

"Is there anything we can do for you to make your stay better?" she responded. Yeah, I thought. Make the Asshole disappear into a black hole, never to be seen again. Turn back the clock and bring my wife back. I simply shook my head.

"No, there really isn't, but thanks for asking anyway," I said quietly. "We just had a sudden change in plans." The clerk looked at me sympathetically, almost as if she could read my thoughts.

"Have a nice evening, sir," she said before I left. Yeah, right. A nice evening. I got in my car, and somehow managed to get home in one piece. I was a bundle of nerves inside as my emotions fought for control. Part of me was angrier than I had ever been in my life. Another part was sad for the loss of my wife and my family.

I walked into the house we lived in and noticed how quiet and empty the place seemed. I dropped my luggage in the master bedroom and sat down, trying to make sense of what had happened. I looked at my phone, hoping to see a text message or something from Linda. I hoped she would have come to her senses and changed her mind, but she didn't. I laid back on the bed, still in my clothes and dozed off for a bit.

I woke up at about 2:00 AM. The sleep had helped clear my head a bit, but the anger remained. I needed a plan. First off, I wasn't about to lose my kids. Second, if I divorced the slut, she would get the house, custody of the kids, child support (which I honestly didn't have a problem paying), and 'maintenance'. In other words, she would get the gold mine, and I would get the shaft. I couldn't see myself having to pay for her to continue fucking around while I lived in a cheap apartment eating canned beans. Gotta love the divorce laws in this country that screw the man over after the woman has been screwing everyone else. So much for our 'Justice' system. What a fucking joke. There's no justice when the innocent party gets fucked over. OK. Divorce was out, but she might divorce me instead. Not much I could do about that except to try and mitigate the disaster.