February Sucks - For Them

"Shhhhh," one of his so-called friends hushed him. "Jim, keep your voice down. You don't have to broadcast it all over the club. We're all friends of both you and Linda's. It's the chance of a lifetime for her and it's one night."

"I'll be sure to mention that to the attorney when I file for divorce on Monday, and to my kids when I tell them why their Dad no longer lives with them."

"Jim, please, you're not serious?" Dee interjected. "She loves you. It's only one night. Please, let her have this and she'll be back tomorrow."

"And she'll come back to an empty house," Jim announced. "From now on, when any of you visit her and see our two kids, remember, you had a hand in breaking up their family."

Just then the two guys who had been sitting with LaValliere stood up and looked to be heading his way.

"Oh, look at this! Here comes LaValliere's two goons," he said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "What are you guys going to do, take me out to the parking lot and work me over? Your boss steals my wife, breaks up my family, and now you guys are going beat the crap out of me, right?

"No, wait, I have an idea, Dave, Paul, why don't you two send your wives home with those guys. They're both professional football players. Maybe they're not Marc LaValliere, but they're on the same team. Then we can ALL be so happy for our wives because they got to fuck somebody famous, and later we can ALL wonder how we stack up against a professional athlete when we make love to our wives. We can ALL wonder if we still satisfy her, or whose she's thinking about in the throes of passion."

Both of LaValliere's buddies stopped in their tracks as one of the men took out his phone and hit speed dial.

"You calling Mark?" the other one asked.

"Shit, yeah. I'm going to tell him to bring that bitch back here. Look around you; everybody's got their phones out. This is going to be all over the internet by morning."

His companion looked around. There must have been thirty or forty people recording everything. "Shit, Kevin, a bunch of those phones are pointed at us."

"Ya think?" he commented sarcastically. "Damn it."

"What's the matter?"

"He's turned his fucking phone off."

A woman sitting with her husband at another table yelled out to Jim. He recognized her as the woman LaValliere danced with before his wife. "That A-hole tried the same thing with me a little while ago. I told him to go to hell."

"Your husband is a lucky man," Jim replied. "He's obviously a much better judge of character than I am."

He couldn't help but chuckle as he looked down and addressed the table of shocked former friends. "When you see Linda, make sure you tell her she threw her marriage away for one night with that asshole and she wasn't even his first choice."

Jim knew this would be the last time he spoke to anyone at the table so he wanted to make sure they knew where he stood. "I thought you were our friends. I was obviously as mistaken about you as I was my wife. The next time any of you men see me, you should start looking for the exit. I won't come looking for you, but if we ever find ourselves in the same room, I'm going to start beating on you."

There was shocked silence as Jim turned his attention to the "ladies."

"And you bitches, I don't believe in violence against women, but if you ever attempt to speak to me again, I am going to get loud, vulgar, make a scene and make sure everyone around knows you pimped my wife out to that lowlife piece of shit."

He glared fiercely at Dee. "I might make an exception on that violence against women rule for you, bitch."

Dee took her phone out and frantically tried calling Linda's number but it went directly to voice mail. About that time the club manager approached Jim. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If you refuse, I'll call the police."

"Oh, don't worry," Jim replied. "I'm leaving, but before I do, I have a question, did you know about this? Has LaValliere done this here, before? That lady says he tried the same thing with her. I'll bet my wife isn't the first, is she? Is this LaValliere's happy hunting ground for impressionable wives'?" He looked at the other tables. "Take this as a warning, guys; bring your wife here and you just might leave without her like I'm doing. Believe me, LaValliere doesn't give two figs about breaking up your family, just like he didn't care about breaking up mine."

Jim walked over to a shamefaced coat- check girl and gave her his ticket, then left.

He was half expecting LaValliere's two buddies to follow him outside, but they didn't. He took off walking in the direction of the hotel. He couldn't believe his wife would throw away their marriage over one night. What in the hell was she thinking? They'd talked about fidelity; in fact, the whole group he just left behind had talked about it. Everyone agreed; it was a no-tolerance subject.

By the time he reached the hotel lobby, he had worked himself into even more of a frenzy than before. He wanted blood from anyone and everyone who was involved with that night. He walked up to the desk clerk. "I'll be checking out in a few minutes, have my bill ready," he demanded.

The clerk had to ask. "Sir, is there a problem? The room is reserved for the night."

"Yeah, there's a problem! I can't believe a hotel with a reputation to protect would support that den of infidelity. Do you know that damn dance club caters to professional athletes who go around seducing people's wives? I booked the room to have a romantic night with my wife. Now, thanks to you and the wife stealing clientele of that place, I'll be divorcing her and breaking up a family with two innocent little kids.

"I'm going up there and pack. Have my bill ready by the time I come back down!"

Carl Mason, the hotel's night manager could hear Jim complaining all the way back in his office. He immediately got on the phone. "Bob, what the hell happened over there tonight? I've got a customer here ready to kill somebody because he says a customer of yours seduced his wife."

"Yeah, it was that asshole Marc LaValliere. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. It's not the first time he's snuck out of here with somebody's wife."

"Are you kidding me? Why haven't you banned him from the club?"

"Because he brings in business. A lot of people know he hangs out here, so they come in to get a glimpse of our local football hero. You're right, though, as of tonight he's banned. I just hope it's not too little too late. I think the incident tonight may have hurt business."

"Well, I'll tell you what, first thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to talk to the board and recommend we disassociate ourselves from there."

"Hang on, Carl, as least wait until we see how it plays out."

"I'm not waiting for anything, Bob. That's bullshit. You should have stopped that a long time ago. Good luck." After angrily hanging up, the manager walked out to the front desk and talked to the clerk. "Terry, let me know when you see that guy get off the elevator."

"Will do, Mr. Mason."

In the meantime, Jim had made it back to the room. When he opened the door, that big king-sized bed looked mighty inviting. He was exhausted, emotionally, and physically. He flopped down, swinging one leg on the bed but kept the other planted on the floor. He didn't want to fall asleep, only take a load off for a few minutes.

As he lay there, he could feel the grief slowly creeping in like a tiger getting ready to pounce. Until then, his emotions were pure rage with a shot of adrenaline as a kicker.

He sat up, swung his other leg back down to the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed. The grief would have to wait, he told himself, he wasn't done with the rage yet... not by a long shot. Jim took his suitcase and threw it on the bed before opening it. He removed the three-hundred dollar, Victoria Secrets lingerie he bought as a surprise for his wife and laid it all out nice and straight on the bed. He found some hotel stationery and a pen on the small table in the corner and wrote out a note.

For the maid, Happy belated Valentine's Day. It's all yours.

He took out his phone and texted a picture of it to his soon to be ex-wife with the note prominently featured in the foreground. Never in his entire life had anyone hurt him as badly as she had; he was out to return the favor any way he could.

Jim closed his suitcase and headed back down to settle up. The clerk called his manager as soon as Jim stepped out of the elevator.

"Sir, my name Carl Mason, I'm the night manager for the hotel. I couldn't help but hear you when you came in. I called over to the dance club and found out what happened. I am comping your room with my sincerest apologies, and I will be submitting my recommendation to our board members that we cut all ties with The Down Beat. Again, there's no charge for the room and I am so very sorry this happened."

The manager's little speech took some of the wind out of Jim's sails. He hoped the guy was telling him the truth about cutting ties with the club. That would at least give him a small feeling of satisfaction.

He had a full tank of gas, and all he wanted to do was drive until he reached the end of the earth, but he couldn't. As much as he wanted to put the world between him and his wife, he had his kids to think about. He needed to get ahold of his emotions. The thing was, he also needed revenge, or he'd never be able to look his kids in the eye again.

On the way home, Jim thought about all those people recording him with their phones. It was another small victory, but he hoped they would post it on YouTube, Facebook, Twitter and any other sites that were out there. That's when he got an idea!

As soon as Jim walked inside his house, he set his suitcase down and made a bee-line for his home office. He opened his laptop, clicked on Google, and started his search. It took him three attempts but he found what he was looking for. He wasn't even sure they existed, but there they were, telephone tip lines for, The National Enquirer, The Globe, The Tattler, Confidential, and a couple other scandal sheet, tabloids. He clicked on the first one and saw it was a twenty-four-hour hotline. As he went down the page, he found they were all that way.

He took a sheet of paper and scribbled out a brief synopsis of what to say.

"National Enquirer tip line, may I have your name, please."

"My first name is Jim, but before I go any further I'd like to know if you'd be interested in a story about Marc LaValliere stealing a man's wife and tearing his ten-year marriage apart. They also have two kids who will now be living in a broken home, thanks to him."

"Can you verify this, Jim?"

"I sure can, it was my wife he stole. She's with him as we speak."

There was silence on the line for a moment before the voice replied. "Jim, can you hold for a couple minutes? Please don't hang up, I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," Jim responded.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, we are interested. We'll pay two-thousand dollars for the exclusive."

"What's your name?" asked Jim.

"Darrel."

"Okay, Darrel, he's the deal, I'm not interested in any money. You were my first call, but I'm also going to call "The Globe," "Confidential," "The Tattler," and a few others. I assume you guys have ways to find out where these celebrities live and I'm sure you have photographers all over the place that are ready to go on short notice; so, whoever gets me the best photos of LaValliere and my wife together gets the exclusive... IF you use the pictures with the story, of course."

"Jim, it isn't always that easy to get pictures. Some of these guys live in a compound with security that would rival Fort Knox."

"That's not my problem, Darrel. I'm sure between you and your competitors, some enterprising paparazzi will get some good shots. That prick has fooled everyone with his goody-goody-two-shoes image. It's time people see him for who he really is."

"Okay," he heard Darrel say with a sigh, "I'll see what we can do. Where do I send the photos?"

After giving Darrel his email address, Jim made the same call to the other scandal rags. Four of them said they were interested in the story and took his photography challenge.

After that, he started loading the car. He took his computer and charger, a lot of his clothes, and shaving gear. When he was done with the essentials, he looked around for more. She could have the damn TV for the kids, but the turntable and all his albums were going with him. There was no way he could get his favorite chair in the car, so reluctantly, that had to stay behind. Lastly, he went through the house and took photos of the kids, but left any that she was in. He took the family album off the shelf and did the same, sliding pictures of the kids out of their glassine protectors. He took one more quick look around. When he was satisfied he had everything he wanted, Jim removed his wedding ring and left it on the table along with a note. I hope it was worth it. PS. I called your parents and asked them to pick up the kids.

*****

Linda was still in a euphoric state when she opened her eyes Saturday morning. The previous night had been everything she expected, and more. She smiled and cuddled into the strong arms of her lover as she gazed up through the skylight over the bed. For the first time all month, it was sunny out. There was even some crazy bird flying around up there. It must be an omen, she thought. Her mind slipped back to the night before when it was the moon shining through the glass. She watched it for hours while her big strong hunk brought her to multiple orgasms. By all means, it was a night she'd remember for the rest of her life.

It was only after that private divulgence that she thought of her husband. She started to wonder what kind of reception she was going to get when she got back. How successful was Dee at smoothing things over? She was starting to feel guilty, not to mention, scared.

She looked over into her paramour's ruggedly handsome face and saw his eyes flicker open. "Well, you said you'd give me the night of my life and you weren't kidding, thank you."

He just smiled up at her. "I don't have anything going on today, stay for a little while."

"I wish I could, Marc, but I've got to get back to the hotel. It's still pretty early and I'm hoping I can sneak back into the room before Jim wakes up. Maybe he won't be quite so mad if I wake him with a blowjob."

"We haven't had our swim yet," he said. "I don't go anywhere or do anything before my swim."

"You have an indoor pool?" She didn't remember seeing one when he showed her around the night before.

"Almost," he replied. "It's an outdoor pool, but I have it enclosed and heated in the winter."

Suddenly, she forgot all about Jim again. "But I didn't bring a swimsuit," she said, coquettishly.

LaValliere's smile broadened. "We're surrounded by three acres of property. My nearest neighbor is a quarter-mile away, and they can't see around to the back of my house. Swimsuits, are not required, my dear."

She sat up and looked out the window. "That's quite a ways from the house, Marc. I hope you don't expect me to run out there, naked. It's cold out there."

"I have a nice warm terrycloth bathrobe and a pair of slippers you can wear."

A few minutes later, Linda was silently thinking, 'This is just flat-out crazy. It was all of about thirty degrees and she would be walking hand in hand with Marc LaValliere to go skinny-dipping in his enclosed pool. She would be wearing nothing but a robe and he'd be as naked as a Jaybird. Oh, if Dee could see her now.'

"There's that crazy bird again," she said while trying to block the sun with her hand.

"What bird?"

"I saw him earlier outside the skylight. He just keeps flying in circles."

"We've got'em all over the place out here," he said, paying no attention.

Once inside the pool enclosure, Marc helped her off with the robe and laid it across a chair before they both ran and jumped in. Marc started doing laps right away. She tried to keep up, but there was no way ,so she stepped off to the side and contented herself with watching him glide through the water from one end of the pool to the other. She'd lost count of the number of laps but it must have been twenty-five, or thirty before he disappeared under the water. She could see him coming her way, then felt his fingers inside her pussy.

"Oh, God," she moaned. Never in her life had she done anything like this. In just seconds, he had her body squirming with desire. He emerged in front of her and guided her to the wall. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt his hard cock slip gracefully between her vaginal lips and enter the walls to heaven.

She'd heard tails of fucking in the water before, but had never experienced it herself. It offered a different dimension, an eroticism that she'd never felt before. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin to give her lover more room. She could feel the ebb and flow of the water with every thrust, and her tits rose and fell with the small waves his body created. She couldn't believe her body could climax again after the previous night, but it did.

"See," he said after they finally caught their breath again, "there's nothing like a good swim to start the day."

"This really has been an experience I'll remember the rest of my life, Marc, but I really do have to get back."

"Yeah, don't want the wimp to get pissed, do we?" he snarled with contempt.

"Hey, Jim might not be a football superstar, but he's no wimp," she retorted.

"No? You think he'll want to fight me for his woman's honor?"

The sudden vitriol coming from his mouth shocked her into muteness.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he sneered, taking her silence as verification.

This was a side of Mr. Football she hadn't seen. There was real cruelty in his voice. "Take me back," she flatly stated. He chuckled at her obvious anger.

They both got out of the pool at the same time. LaValliere grabbed a towel that was hanging on the back of a chair while Linda reached for the robe. Suddenly there was a loud crack and pain shot up her right butt cheek. She screamed and looked back as LaValliere was twirling the towel between his hands.

"Did I tell you I'm the champion towel snapper in our locker room?" he said with an evil grin.

"That hurt, damn it," she scolded as she rubbed her ass. She started to reach for the robe again when a second shot from the towel stung the other side of her butt. "Marc, stop that, that hurts!" she yelled with resentment.

The rage in her eyes only seemed to provoke him more. He snapped her again in the thigh. "If I were you, I'd make a break for the house," he said with a laugh.

"I'm still wet, I'll get pneumonia going out there naked," she cried.

He snapped her again, this time just barely missing her left boob. "Next one gets you right in the pussy," he sniggered.

She could hear him laughing as she made a dash for the door. He ran behind her, maniacally snapping the towel and yelling at her the whole way into the house. She quickly tried to close the bedroom door on him, but he was right there and pushed his way in behind her. His demeanor had completely changed. It was obvious, now that he'd gotten what he wanted from her, he had no more use for her.

"Get dressed," he flatly ordered her. "I'll drop you off at the hotel."

Linda sat on the edge of the bed and reached down for her panties, realizing the whole thing was an act. The suave, sophistication, the nice guy image, it was all just an act; he was really nothing but a childish bully. She now wished she'd never let him touch her. As she started sliding her panties on, she noticed a red welt on her thigh where he snapped her with the towel. She stood up and felt behind her; sure enough, she had another one back there. Great, she thought, just what she needed... marks on her body to remind Jim of what she'd done.