February Sucks - Linda's Choice Ch. 01

"Well, Mark, it was great meeting you," I said. "But I have two hungry kids to feed at the food court."

"I do too," he replied, shepherding his two toward him, but they would have none of it.

"Dad, can we eat and play with them?" Kelly asked. "Please!"

"Yeah! Yeah!" the boys chimed in, jumping up and down.

"Can we, mom?" my Emma added to the begging, joined by her brother.

Mark and I looked at each other then. Both of us realizing that we had no option but to give in to our kids. Inwardly, I was glad to spend a few more minutes with this handsome and dashing man who fate had tossed my way.

"Normally, I would suggest a nicer place for lunch," he said. "But I don't think we will stop these four from foodcourt food."

"We have been outmaneuvered," I said to Mark as he shook his head at his kids.

"OK," he said. "I'll get a table for us by the play area and wait for you guys."

"It's a plan," I replied, trying to act nonchalant and probably failing.

I may have blushed. OK, I did.

What the hell was wrong with me? I was acting like a starstruck teenager. But somehow, I managed to get the kids some pizza. I decided on some pasta that I could eat without making a fool of myself.

"You guys can eat," Mark said. "We'll get our food and be back."

"Dad, can you get us Pizza too?" Kelly asked as her brother nodded.

His kids wanted to stay with mine and play.

"I'll watch them," I said to him. "You go ahead."

He hesitated for a second.

"You can watch us from Sbarro's," I pointed over my shoulder.

Noticing how close Sbarro's, the Italian food place was, he nodded in agreement. But I know he kept an eye on us as a good dad would. I found that so attractive. Knowing more pizza was on the way, I gave some of ours to all the kids. They ate half of their portion and ran to the play area to have fun, leaving me to ponder what I was about to do.

A couple of times, I looked back in his direction and caught his eyes on me. But instead of looking away, he gave me a warm, reassuring smile and nod. I had to shift in my seat uncomfortably. His look was that arousing. Then he came back with the kids and his food. I noticed that his order was nearly identical to ours.

"You got me thinking of pasta," he said as he sat next to me.

"I hope you don't mind, but I gave your kids some pizza so they can go play," I said hesitantly.

"Not at all," he said with that now-familiar slight smirk. "It will give us a chance to talk and get to know one another."

I smiled back, politely. But inside, I was in arousal overload. A married woman, with her children, gushing over another man. In public.

"Has anyone asked you who you are yet?"

"No," I replied, should they?"

"Well, I'm a bit of a celebrity, and people stare."

"Maybe the fact you shaved your mustache off might be throwing them off," I replied, trying not to look too much, yet failing as I smirked back at him.

"Is that why you didn't recognize me at first?"

My mouth was full, so I just nodded to his question. He nodded before taking a bite.

"Not bad," he said swallowing, with a mischievous smile. "You chose well for us."

'Us! He said us?'

I think it was that moment that he endeared himself to me. That boyish charm, combined with those dynamite looks, made him irresistible. And me a married woman with children. What was I thinking? If I was thinking at all.

In the back of my mind, I thought of my Jim. But not as an obstacle or a hindrance. He was Jim, my husband, father of our children. My rock and partner in life. But like most husbands, he was the comfort zone. Not the adventure.

There is one thing I have learned in life that most people seemed not to have or deny. That married people, both men and women, find people other than their spouse attractive. Just because we get married, our brains and bodies do not shut down. We still have urges and preferences. And when a good looking someone comes our way, we notice. And I certainly took notice... in spades.

Mark and I talked for a while about our jobs and families. He spoke of playing in Dallas before signing to play in our city, where he had become the star tight end and town celebrity. Mr. Perfect didn't talk much of his wife but said "we" when speaking of family and moving. When I asked where his wife was that day, he merely said she was working. Not what she was doing. Or that she was a model.

"What is her name?" I asked, watching for a reaction.

"Bella," he replied, looking away for just a second.

Enough to know he was not comfortable discussing her at the moment. That spoke volumes to me. Only a man interested in the woman he is talking to is reluctant to discuss his wife. Yet that excited me. Mark was not focused on the model, but the girl next door type. Me.

"Your daughter said your wife is a model," I pressed. "How did you meet?"

"Yes, she is, and we met in college," he said, watching the kids play and back at me. "Before I was in the NFL while she was a UCLA cheerleader."

I watched him waiting for more, and he continued. They had drifted apart for almost two years only to reunite and find love again. Their marriage had been a private affair by her request. And their get-away wedding had been in Alaska, attended by their close family only. It suited Mark and his agent, who didn't want it known he was married. Thus making him more desirable to female fans.

"So you are in public with your kids? With that jersey? People will know there must be a Mrs. LaVelliere somewhere in the picture. Does Bella use your last name?"

"I wore the team shirt out of habit," he replied, looking at me conspiratorially. "And Bella is known just by that name professionally. Celebrities do that."

I wondered if he wore it to pick up women. Bored married women with an itch to scratch. Some women would have found that offensive, irritating, even insulting. But in that instant, I found it exciting.

I struggled to find something to talk about to keep from making a fool of myself.

"But it must be in the press," I replied. "No?"

"Her publisher thinks the mystery of who her husband is adds to her mystique and sex appeal."

"Now I'm intrigued," I replied.

"You have little to worry about," was his reply.

But I had a feeling that his mischievousness and comments were about him and me. That did not take long to develop as before I could stop him, he took my phone and typed in his number in my contacts.

"That should make you more comfortable," he said in a low tone leaning toward me. "Now you have my number."

I watched, stunned at his gall. Calling himself, he silenced it and copied my number in his contacts.

"There. We're phone buddies."

"Until our spouses find out," I replied. But not to admonish him, but to laugh along as he giggled.

"They don't have to, do they?" he replied, with that mischievous smile again. Damn!

In that instant, I knew I would not tell Jim about Mark. Jim was a fan of this man and would want to learn more. Could he meet Mark? Had I taken a picture? What was he like? Things a man, a fan of the game, would be interested in. Things that Mark and I had no interest in as we chatted and flirted in front of the world. Not far from our young unsuspecting children.

"Linda," Mark said leaning in after a while. "I like this. I mean us. And I can tell you do as well."

His subsequent silence, and continued staring into my eyes, drew me to reply. A compulsion that I gave little thought at the moment. Because the adventure... had already begun.

"Maybe," I said nervously.

In the end, Mark nodded to himself and then to me. His eyes boring into my soul... finding what some would say a victim. But I knew better... more a kindred spirit.

"Think about it, Linda," he finally said.

And we both knew there would be more to come. I saw it in the slight smile on Mark's face. The smile of a conqueror. Because without leaving the table at the mall. Without saying it. Or even touching, we both knew that this was the start of something illicit. What was left was the when and where.

Sometime later, we separated the kids and went our separate ways. We did our best to make it all look tame. Yet the look he gave me as he left was enough to tempt a nun. My body responded almost independently of my brain. I was wet. Horny on fire wet!

***

You won't be dissapointed

My mind was in turmoil the rest of the day as I got the kids changed and started dinner. Any hope of them forgetting the events of the day faded as all they talked about was The LaValliere kids. It was Kelly this and Robbie that.

I knew I had to say something to Jim. If I didn't, and the kids would, he would be suspicious. I could not count on our children to not share. They were innocent and excited about the new friends they had made. They might say to him they had played with the kids of another man. And that he and I talked while they played. But not who the man was.

Yes, I could have come clean and told Jim it had been Mark LaValliere. Jim would have been excited as I had thought earlier, and I would have been in the clear. But I did not, for one reason. I didn't want to lose the opportunity to be with Mark if I chose to. In just an hour and a half of conversation, I had allowed myself to be seduced by another man. Not physically, but by the notion of being wanted by a man like him.

So I told Jim a little white lie, that we ran into this father by the bathrooms in a predicament. Telling Jim everything the same as had happened, except for two things the kids did not know. Who the man we ran into was, and what Mark and I had discussed.

If I did nothing with Mark, there would be nothing for my husband to suspect. Not even if the kids told him about the time they spent with Mark's kids. All they could say was that their mom had sat at a table and ate lunch, watching the kids with another father. But if I did do something with Mark, he would not know who it had been.

I knew then that I had lied and deceived my husband. That by not telling him the truth, I had betrayed his trust. But at the moment, I was no longer thinking of us, but only of me and what I wanted. That the choice to do so or not was mine. And if I did choose it, it was a treat for myself that I deserved.

***

As the week passed, I did nothing but dwelled on that time with Mark. It was all I could think about at work, driving anywhere, and even with the family. I even found myself thinking of him while listening to Jim about his day. How Mark looked at me, how he made me feel, how alive I felt.

But I did not call or text him once. I just let my mind be consumed by him, and he was not even there. He had not made contact either, but he was everywhere I went. Not making a move, I basked in the feeling Mark had given me at the mall. Not anyone else. Just me. Me!

It is not that I did not want the adventure and the fun of a man like Mark pursuing me. Because I did. The reason I hesitated was that if I did, I would be crossing that line. From good loyal wife to something until then I had considered unthinkable. In the past, I had considered women who cheated liars and betrayers. Yet, in less than a week, I was contemplating just that unfaithfulness.

I had yet to touch, kiss, or even say yes to Mark. Still, by just saying "maybe" to him that Monday, I had crossed the line with no concern of being just the kind of woman I had previously looked down upon.

It's easy to say you will do something, yet another to actually do it. To cross a previously unthinkable line is daunting. But still, I had thoughts of Mark. They would not go away, becoming fantasies of kissing, hugging, and being the one to give him pleasure as well as take it in turn. That a man like Mark would give me the time of day was something I thought only happened in movies. Not at the local mall! And not to me!

But it had. Of all the women that day, "The" Mark LaValliere had chosen one to woe and proposition. A man married to a model! Yet he chose me! The more I thought of it, the more I realized that this was an opportunity of a lifetime. A prospect that came the way of women like me once in a lifetime, if ever.

***

Curiosity for my competition spurned me to search online for Mark and, more specifically, his wife. Bella LaValliere. I just had to know who she was and what she looked like. To say the woman was stunning would be an understatement. Actually, she is still stunning to this day. But back then, she was more so.

Perfect cheekbones, symmetry, gray eyes that stood out under that long shiny black mane. A nose that surgeons and sculptors could never recreate. And that body! Long, athletic legs, a perfectly proportioned behind, washboard abs, 36C breasts with hardly any sag. She had two children, for heaven's sake! How did she do it? The woman looked... perfect.

There were pictures of her as a college beauty and UCLA cheerleader. She had been runner up to Miss California, but I thought she should have won. She had excelled as a fitness instructor and model of fitness wear. Exercising during pregnancy, she had sold multiple videos on the topic while looking as she preached. After her two children were born, she looked better than before!

Then I found an article about her. It was in some modeling magazine that explained in detail Bella's physical attributes. It was a combination of genetics, devotion to proper nutrition, and practically living at the gym exercising. When did she find the time? Well, duh. She was generating income as well as being married to a wealthy football player in the NFL. Oh yes, she had a build-in nursery at her gym. How did I miss that part?

Then it was the superior genetics of her family. Bella's mother had been Miss Texas and a Miss America runner up. One look at mom's picture, and I felt like a mediocre womanhood version on my best day. My mom had been cute when young but never a pageant goddess.

And looking at her father's pictures didn't help either. I instantly saw where the high cheekbones came from. He was Lyle Benson. The doctor in a TV show that ran ten years. My dad was a decent looking guy who had been a wrestler in the army. Yes, my parents had been fit and passed that on to me, but we had nothing to match Bella's genetic pedigree.

The article also said that Bella hardly ever gained weight. Even after two children, she looked like she had when cheering for UCLA each Saturday. To keep from questioning if I was even a woman, I stopped reading. No way I could compete with Bella, the goddess.

After torturing myself and becoming depressed, I wondered why Mark had even bothered to talk to me. Yet he had. Why? What had he seen in me? I can't tell you how I felt as my mind went from giddy temptation to self-deprecating thoughts of my worth.

Then on that Wednesday, Mark texted me. My heart raced as I saw who it was on the screen. It was nothing suggestive.

-Thanks for a great lunch. Our kids sure took to each other. Didn't they?-

Our kids! Who was he kidding? He meant us, and we both knew it. Before he sent something he should not have, I called him from my office using the landline.

"Mark LaValliere," he replied. "Who is this?"

He sounded a bit gruff.

"Mark, it's me, Linda."

"Oh, Linda! Hi," he said in a calmer tone. "You caught me at a play meeting with the team. Let me call you back in a few minutes, OK?"

"OK," I replied and heard the click on his end.

My mind raced again as I waited for his call. Here I was, a woman with a business degree, an MBA no less, and I was gushing at the thought a hot athlete might call me. In days I had allowed myself to be transformed into...

I jumped as my phone rang. Then stared at the screen, happy it was Mark calling back! Taking a breath to steady my nerves, I picked up.

"This is Linda."

"Linda, I'm so glad you called."

"Hi Mark," I said hesitantly. But it was something that had to be done. "Listen, I have a favor to ask you."

"Sure, name it."

"Don't text me or call my cell phone, please. I am going to get a separate phone for you to text me and for me to call you. I don't lock my phone, and my husband could get suspicious if I did."

"I understand," he cut me off. "Quite understandable. Are you at work?"

"Yes, I am," I replied. "I'll call you once to give you my new number. Probably tomorrow. When is a good time to call when I don't interfere with your job?"

"Practice is over by two; then I go to the weight room to lift and get a massage. I'm done by three when you can call. We have a bye this weekend, so I'm free if you can get away. Think about it and let me know tomorrow."

That had been my chance to say no, just like it had been when I called. Instead, I conspired to get a separate secret phone to call him. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but each time he and I talked, I got deeper and deeper in this sordid relationship of ours.

"I sure will," I replied. "Take care, Mark."

"I'm glad you called Linda," he replied. "You won't be disappointed."

My mind kept replaying that phrase after we hung up. "You won't be disappointed." All kinds of possibilities came to my previously ordered and structured mind. I should have been working; instead, I brought up a search screen and looked up pictures of Mark. Mark in suits, Mark in football uniform. Front shots and from behind to check out that ass. Mark in running gear running track during college. Mark in a small bathing suit! Oh, Lord! They had many of those taken in Hawai after some game. Unlike my husband's hairy body, Mark's chest was that of a perfect Mr. Universe contestant. I wondered if he shaved or if he was naturally that way. Buff!

My mind started to wonder as I stared at the picture of his small waist and that... Oh, my... that bulge! I had not seen that at the mall under those jeans. Maybe I could have had I tried better. But I remembered seeing this woman at work staring at a man's crotch once, and the man had caught her. I was glad it was her and not me, so I always tried not to stare down there at men. Even if I wanted to. Which now I did and wished I had.

I'm not sure when it happened, but I found myself lower on my desk chair and spreading my legs. Focusing on Mark's package picture, I raised my skirt and touched my panties over the crotch. In my mind, Mark's larger-than-normal tool was in front of me, and I was reaching for it with my hand.

He was big. Bigger than Jim. Why did I think of that? It almost ruined everything. Brushing the thought away, I had focused on nothing but my fantasy. Reaching under my soaked panties, I touched my clit over my trimmed pubic hair. As my fingers diddled my hardening nubbin, my eyes half-closed, and I went back to the fantasy of Mark's hard cock.

I was close to cumming when my phone rang. Shit! It was my boss wanting some reports. Also, to remind me that I still had fourteen days to take off before the new year. I promised to take some time off and send him the report via e-mail in less than thirty minutes. By then, the search browser with evidence of my indiscretion was off on my desktop. I had barely escaped my lapse in judgment as I remembered my door was not locked. Stupid! Stupid!

***

That night, I jumped in fear as the kids talked about the mall incident. But it was just in passing, and Jim said nothing after. Unnerved, I breathed easier as I placed the dishes in the washer, and Jim got the kids to bed. Focusing on just getting through the evening, I kissed both kids goodnight on the way to the shower, as Jim got them to turn the lights off. Then I sat in the living room with a glass of wine. My mind a confused swirl of thoughts and emotions.