February Sucks - Jim Wakes Up

My wife asked Ellen why she wanted to dance with me. It was that unimaginable a beautiful woman would have any interest in me. And the answer was a compliment to Linda, not me. It was because of how Linda was looking at me.

Linda didn't think any less of me than I thought of myself. I also never believed Ellen wanted to dance with me for any reason. And I also didn't believe in the remarkable coincidence that every night we went dancing, someone of great beauty and sexual capability wanted to fuck one of us.

I was certainly dazzled by Ellen's beauty. She was the prettiest woman I had ever seen and I was instantly hard. Before the night of The Excellent Fuck--if for some inexplicable reason Ellen was willing--I would have immediately fled knowing there was no other way to save our marriage. But I decided to enjoy whatever was coming. It was clear I was supposed to. The first dance was to a song with an in-between beat and she chose to make it a close dance with lots of movement. Unreal movement. ("I don't believe for a moment that our marriage is in danger.") The volume of the music was low enough we could talk.

"You're beautiful," I said stupidly after I learned her name and she mine. Couldn't help it. Like Linda, I lost all power in the presence of beauty, and I could not stop myself from saying it. She smiled and looked in my eyes, then seemed intrigued. I couldn't stop smiling, even when I thought I wasn't. But I could see it wasn't the leer she expected. I wasn't smiling at my good luck. Women in her line of work often develop an uncanny feel and understanding of the secret thoughts and desires of men, and she could see something unexplained. She pushed her mound into me to clear it up and continue the seduction. It lined up beautifully at just the right place. ("I felt overwhelmed and possessed.") Had the height of her high heels been part of this serendipitous chain of coincidences?

After a faster dance that was still unbelievably erotic, but light on conversation, we came to a slower dance, (clearly the song list was fortuitous). We could talk, and I wanted to talk. Though I think she felt a focus on rubbing was more likely to get us to the right point, she was prepared for that. She could seduce in any situation.

"How many half-drunk guys have come onto you in your lifetime?" I asked. "Just a rough guess."

She laughed and already knew where I was going. "Let's say too many. It's what makes guys like you stand out after a while." After a while. Sounded like one of my wife's unconscious bits of painful honesty. Ellen pulled me closer and somehow moved my hand to her ass without me realizing it happened. And for several too-short seconds, there was a slow, fucking motion moving beneath that hand. I just kept the pressure on and let my hand slide with her movements to see where the fingers would go. And they went to wonderful places. ("My will was surrounded by his.")

Realizing my time was short, I tried to refocus. "I see. And tonight you totally forgot how to keep a half-drunk in line? You saw from 20 feet away, in this dark lighting, while looking at the back of my wife's head, a look of admiration in her eyes? And you thought I was your last hope?"

She looked at me, thinking, a smile spreading. She had incredible, deep blue eyes.

"Believe me. I'm in love with my wife, but I saw you approach. Every step. You walked right by two bouncers who also saw you walk straight to our table. Every step. I can understand why you chose me over them. They may have been incapacitated."

She laughed a beautiful, tinkling laugh and her hand moved down to cement control. I didn't stop her. Her hands were as practiced as a magician and I doubt even my wife, who I was sure was closely watching, could catch that fluid motion. ("I was his at that moment, for whatever he wanted, as long as he wanted me.")

I gave myself a few seconds for this fantasy before I leaned back and said, "What's the script?"

She smiled. She'd already decided to turn evidence.

"Four or five dances." She moved away, did a little spin, and kissed me when she came back, my right hand clasped with hers against her breast. I could feel her hard nipple against the side of my hand. ("I had never been more aroused.")

"Then?"

"I ask you to come with me."

"I'll agree," I said quickly. "Who wouldn't? ("I briefly thought of texting you.") Even all the women here and the two gay guys by the stage would. But I doubt the arrangement includes anything beyond the back door."

She gave me a suggestive look that sent a tingle through every nerve that ever had a sexual purpose, but then a shrug that was meant to feign disappointment, "It doesn't."

"So, the idea is some sort of public rejection, or is it worse? Do I get slapped for dancing with a hard-on pressed against you?"

"No. Just as we reach the back door, and still in her line of sight, I whisper something in your ear. Then, I leave; you go back to your wife with a lesson learned."

"What do you say?"

"I think we will wait until the time comes. I have permission for a long, passionate kiss before. And conditional permission to do this." She made a graceful dance move that pulled her way from me. As she came back, she reached inside my pants and grabbed my bare cock. ("Even at his most forceful, I never felt forced.") "But only as a last resort and only if absolutely necessary."

"I'm glad you found it necessary." That was followed by a pretty laugh and a complete failure of our dancing footwork. She fixed it by taking the lead. Most of that time she stared straight into my eyes with an innocent, erotic expression that was possibly even more stimulating than her hand.

I can't believe I didn't cum, I was that easily and quickly aroused by this amazing artist ("I responded to him, fully and completely.") but Ellen also knew how to control that. At a pivotal moment, her hand was quickly out and she said, "Come with me, Jim." We both smiled at the double entendre.

I really was lost in it and not once had I looked at my wife since I got up from the table. It was the first time I felt genuinely good since the night of The Excellent Fuck. We got near the side door and, after making sure we were correctly positioned by moving two steps to the north, she gave me that promised kiss. It was a better kiss than any I had imagined or ever had. It was my last chance. I asked her, "Who arranged this?" I couldn't imagine how Linda could know her.

She ignored me for a moment, thinking, and kissed me again. Her mouth moved to my ear. "Your wife. But you will never learn that. You are supposed to find out later that it was L.W. He knows a friend of mine." She leaned back, kissed me lightly with her eyes open. Then she moved back to my ear and said, "Now you know."

"Thank you," I said as she came back, her lips almost touching mine. She could see I didn't understand.

She smiled. "That's what I was supposed to say to you, Dummy." She lightly kissed me again, and turned me to see my wife. She hadn't told me she was going to do that.

It was the first time I looked toward my wife since I got up from the table. Her face was in her hands and she was sobbing like her heart was breaking. Someone touched her and she looked up toward me. She looked shell-shocked. Whatever acting had been planned was replaced by genuine devastation and it moved like an arrow into my soul. She could feel deep pain, but not nearly so well the pain she gave to others. ("You were making it a much bigger issue than it had to be.")

She didn't regret The Excellent Fuck; would never truly regret it, even if she could fully know the price I had paid. You can forgive someone who isn't sorry, but it's almost impossibly hard, especially when that person thinks the offense is trivial. To return to the same love, respect, and trust, is impossible.

My thoughts turned into physical pain, right in my stomach. I bent over and inadvertently pulled Ellen a bit toward me. She had been releasing me to leave and turned a little angrily, I think to fend me off, but then she saw. She grabbed me and pulled me to the wall.

"What?" she said.

I felt I had to explain. "I don't think I learned the right lesson." It was hard to stand straight.

I meant that to be the full explanation. But she was looking at me intently and I admit I was half in love and who else would I ever be able to say it to?

"It fully hit me how unspeakably cruel walking through that door would be. Had you and I met in some other setting, and for some odd reason you wanted me, I would fall. I'm nowhere near that strong and you are beyond imagination. But how could I do this and leave the woman I love behind, humiliated, being smirked at and pitied, confused and abandoned, even in this staged scene when she and I both know nothing is on the other side?" (You were making it a much bigger issue than it had to be,")

Ellen grabbed my hands. This was her job, I knew that, but she had such a beautiful expressive face, and glimmering eyes.

"The choice was so easy, she said it never even rose to the conscious level. She was his for whatever he wanted to do as long as he wanted to do it. I had faded to complete insignificance. No hint of morality or concern crossed her mind to make her stop that unspeakably cruel thing. And it still hasn't crossed her mind." ("I made absolutely no effort to take control of the situation.")

I was supposed to learn that everyone can be seduced; I already knew that. But the role play had shown me beyond any doubt that I could never have done what she did. I could never have come close. No enticement could have made me do it. I had firmly believed that before I ever saw Ellen, but now I knew for sure.

I was beyond caring what anyone thought and the tears came. Ellen was hugging me. Not at all sexual anymore. Just a hug.

"What are you going to do?" Ellen asked.

"I can't lose my kids," I said. "I'll go back, hug my wife, listen to her tell me the lessons she learned. I'll say I dutifully learned mine, as planned. I won't be lying when I say I wanted to go with you."

Ellen smiled a crooked smile, lightly squeezed my shoulder, and I walked back to the table.