February Sucks - Linda's Choice Ch. 01

I had been flipping television channels when Jim came down to join me. Fresh from his shower, he had a towel around his neck and looked semi-athletic. Jim had been a runner in high school and college and had a runner's slim frame. He still ran every morning before his shower and dressing for work. His hairy chest and legs a contrast to Mark's buff body. Why was I comparing them?

Sitting next to me, Jim held my hand and eventually leaned in to kiss me. A practiced and predictable move on his part as we had reenacted our evening so far countless times.

"Let's give the kids time to go to sleep, and we can go upstairs," he said.

How many times had he said that in the last month alone, I thought? The answer was as depressing as the reality. Probably fifteen times, if not twenty. We had become so predictable, so ordered in our structured life.

"Jim," I said, reaching for his cock over his sweats. "Let me work on you for a while."

"No, hun," he recoiled. "The kids could come and catch us."

I know he meant well, but I had hoped he would be a little out of the ordinary. Maybe do something new. Hell, I was the one offering to give him a handjob to start with.

"Can I put it in my mouth?" I whispered in my best seductive voice.

"Not yet, hun," he replied. "Wait for another twenty-five minutes, and we can go upstairs."

Good-old, dependable, and conventional Jim. Everything a woman needed in a father, husband, and provider. But not a lover these days. No matter how I tried to entice him, he held back.

***

Trouble at home

The sad thing was that Jim had not been this way when we got married. All we seemed to do when we were young was fuck. And fuck good! We did it all the time and everywhere. In parked cars. In the park at night. Once in a church lot and my mom's basement, as she and dad were upstairs. On our honeymoon, we had gone naked at a nudist beach. Then we had strayed into a voyeur area where couples openly fucked in public. Of course, one had to have an exhibitionist streak to do it, but we had indulged twice before leaving for home.

No, My husband may not be the buff Adonis Mark seemed to be in the pictures. But he is handsome in his own way. I can tell how women look at him, especially the four women in our five couple group. And he can turn on the charm when he wants to. But something happened to my guy after we had kids. Something changed him.

It started after Emma was born. A tendency to be gentler and treating me like I was delicate and could break. By the time Tommy came along, Jim's transformation was complete. Gone was the man of fun and games. Replaced by Mr. Responsibility and planning. Everything had to be ordered and organized.

And sexually, he made love to me, but we no longer fucked. When I tried to be aggressive, I could see the disapproval in his gaze. And the mood would be spoiled. It was frustrating because the more stress life brought, the more I needed a good fuck. Not to be worshipped on a pedestal.

And that was what happened that night as well. After some light foreplay, he used his fingers and a dildo on me, refusing my offer to give him oral. Needing to cum, I spread wide, letting him work me close. It felt good, but my mind drifted. When I tried not to think of Mark, my orgasm would seem elusive. Giving in, I imagined it was Mark in the bed with me. That his hard cock was by my mouth to suck and enjoy. In minutes, I was cumming hard, and Jim smiled, pulling away. I was still too horny to chance ruining the moment.

"How do you want me?" I asked demurely.

"On your knees, please."

Please! What the fuck was that? I thought. I wanted him to take and ravage me just as he used to. But I did as he asked, parting my knees and thighs to give him better access. He approached me slowly and too gently for my taste. But I was about to get some dick, so who was I to stop him. Maybe he would pick it up once he started and bang the shit out of me.

Instead, he fucked me with slow strokes. Never once slamming inside me. Again, not wanting to ruin things as I had previously, I let him fuck at his own pace. It did not take me long before I was fantasizing about Mark again.

"Harder," I uttered with patience. But I wanted to scream it.

Jim picked it up a bit, but not what I wanted. Not what I needed.

"Please, Jim," I begged in a low tone, trying not to wake the kids.

But I don't believe he heard me as he continued his slow, gentle thrusts. It felt good, but there is just so much gentle a woman can take. Had he changed it up occasionally, I could have dealt with it. But with every time this happened, I just got more and more irritated and dissatisfied. I missed the hard fucking that made me cum, dammit!

Eventually, I heard his breathing increase to match his faster pace. It felt better, but I knew it was a race for who came first. I tried to beat him to it, knowing that he would cum soon after me. But once again, I was too late, and he won the race. I lost; left disappointed, as had happened many times.

After Jim spent in me, he stood and got me a washcloth. But instead of using it, I made a show of spreading his leaking cum on my pussy, tits, and bringing some to rub on my face.

"It's good for the skin," I giggled. "You know, protein."

I was trying to bring some fun to the situation. I should have been angry with Jim, but I kept control, feeling guilty at thinking of another man. He seemed stunned at my audacity. Then giving me a polite smile, he leaned in to kiss me but stopped.

"Can you wipe that first?" he said. Meaning his cum.

"It's not on my lips," I replied. "Come on. Kiss me."

He hesitated for a second and gave me a quick peck on the lips before saying good night and rolling away and turning off the light.

"Jim," I said in the dark. "What's wrong?"

He remained silent and did not answer. I knew then that he was not asleep, that he was trying to ignore me. Feeling guilty at having flirted and plotted with another man, I stayed silent and let my husband fall asleep. Mine took some time to come.

The last time I had tried to talk to Jim about what happened, he had withdrawn and said nothing to me for two weeks. Two weeks of silence just because I brought up sex. And when we resumed, we returned to him taking me from behind. As if looking at me was something that got in the way... of what?

So this was what I had to look forward to from now on. A take it or leave it proposition. Other than sexually, Jim behaved normally. Or what passed for normal. Gone were the long passionate kisses. The longing looks and spontaneous sex. And I could trace the time it had gone from bad to worse.

Two years before. When an old high-school boyfriend of mine, Don Snider, had killed himself on Valentine's Day. He had a crush on me, but I had broken it off with him as we graduated, and I went to college. Don never took it well and stalked me when I returned with a new husband to start my professional life. Not even a protective order stopped him. But an arrest and conviction eventually did. After spending a year in jail, he had come home to drink himself to oblivion. On Valentine's Day 2006, he took an overdose of his sister's anti-depressants.

As I said previously, Jim's sexual habits changed after Emma was around one. Gone was the spontaneity and adventure in our sex life. But we still had sex. Decent sex. Enough so that we had our boy, Tommy. But two years later, After Don's suicide, everything changed for the worse. I could not remember the last time we had missionary sex facing each other. And I could not get my husband to tell me why.

When I suggested counseling, Jim shook his head and left the house. I asked my mother and father, but they could not help either. When my dad approached Jim, asking him if there was anything wrong, Jim had politely ended the conversation, coming home to give me a cold stare. The message was clear.

He would be the dutiful husband, father, and provider. But sex was now on his terms. Something that puzzled me, but at least he had not cut me off. At first, I put up with it and was glad that he was still having sex with me. But after a while, Our sex was no longer unique like it had been. Now it was just a release; masturbation with another person of sorts.

And the frequency dropped from four times a week, to three, two, and eventually once. Some weeks, it was none. By this point, I started to feel inadequate. My sexual self-esteem began to fade as weeks passed to months. And the distance between myself and Jim grew.

One day I could not take it anymore and asked the unthinkable question.

"Jim, are you having an affair?"

His head snapped at me as he stared back at me in anger.

"How could you ask me that?" he hissed under his breath. "When would I do that? I go to work and come home with the kids. When would I find the time? I spent all of it either at work or with you."

I could have pressed the issue. Jim did spent some time with the men in our group. But it was usually them watching football or playing racketball at the gym. I guess they could have lied for him, but it was doubtful. They would all have to be in on it, and one of the wives in our group would have found out and said something. Could he had made time and snuck off. Maybe. But I had no such proof, while accusing him of it would make things worse.

"Jim, you have changed. In bed, you seem distant and different. What did I do wrong?"

He didn't reply, but I could see anger and frustration in him as he shook his head.

"Can we go to counseling?"

"NO!" he said, raising his voice, then taking a deep breath to get himself under control.

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said and walked off. "I need to go pick up the kids from your mom's."

He had walked off, leaving me in despair. Fealing like a failure.

Eventually, I came to accept the new reality in our marriage. With two children, divorce was out of the question. But what I had thought was a perfect relationship with Jim had faded to a droll existence. One where we looked like the perfect couple to friends and family. How had Dave Blane put it once? Oh yes.

"You are the best of us."

If we were the best, the rest had to be suffering, I thought. But seeing no solution, I did what I could for the kids and muddled through. I even lied to my mother, saying that everything was better; that we had sorted things out. But we hadn't.

***

The Line

The next day, I bought a cheap phone and activated it. At work, I called Mark's cell and left a text message.

- L: It's me, L. This is my new cell number.-

It was Thursday. November 29, 2007. And I was contacting a man I barely knew so we could plan our first secret meeting. That morning I had once more asked my husband for us to go to marriage counseling. His answer was to kiss my cheek, say a brief "love you," and walk out to go to work.

The thing is that as soon as he drove off, I knew that he did love me. Not how I wanted to, but how he defined love these days. And in many ways, I loved him as well. I didn't know the reason for his changes as he would not share them. But after two years of trying, I was done waiting for an answer that may never come.

Our children were five and four; with Emma soon to turn six. We had fourteen years to go before the children were both eighteen. I did not know if Jim and I would last that long. I didn't even know if we would survive the next year. But I knew that morning that I would not spend the rest of that time waiting for him to meet me halfway.

The issues I had with Jim were not about the children, our family, jobs, or bills. His unwillingness to communicate and express his issues left me on my own sexually. No matter what had happened, I still believed he loved me. And I still loved him. I just... was no longer in love with him. That part of a relationship, a successful marriage, is not unconditional. The two spouses need to work on it. And in him being unwilling to work with me to fix it, I felt betrayed and cheated on.

I married a good man; a fun, happy, and funny man. And most of all, a sexy man. And Jim had taken that last man away from me. In all other aspects, he was the Jim I knew. That sexual part, Jim withheld from me. But when I thought of it, there was another aspect of himself he took away: the friend part.

Whatever the problem was causing him to withdraw and change sexually, Jim never shared it with me. As friends that we were supposed to be, he did not trust me with it. Spouses who are bonded and in love with each other trust each other with all their issues. Especially one that affects them both. He had not decided to have a different sex life for just himself. He did so for me as well. Doing so without my consent and not caring how it affected me.

Once that realization hit me, I not only felt cheated and betrayed. I felt alone in that aspect of our lives. Confronting Jim and forcing his hand meant the possibility, if not the certainty, of divorce. And I would not break our children's family for that. I would swallow my pride and live a life as best I could until the children were grown.

Jim may have had different plans down the road and divorced me. But by my thinking, there had been no need for that. In some respects, Mark had appeared just a that moment in my life to make me face my situation.

I can not say that if another man had come along instead of Mark, I would have reacted as I did or not. All I know is that Mark surfaced at a pivotal point to find a woman missing something in life. He did not seduce a perfectly satisfied and fulfilled wife. Had I been that, I may have resisted his sales pitch. While not a football star, my husband had been my hero, my stud, and idol; until he chose to stop being that.

There was a void in my life. Mark didn't wave his hand like a wizard and make me submit. No matter how much he thinks so. What he is good at, as men like him are, is spotting someone who may be susceptible and then launch his sales pitch. As a car sales-woman told me once, you can't sell a car to someone not looking to score a car. Smart salespeople are adept at discerning a real customer. I know now that I had my checkbook the day I met Mark, and was ready to buy what he was selling.

Five minutes after three, I texted him.

-L: I'm free this afternoon. Are you ready?" -

In seconds he send a reply.

-M: Yes, I am. Can I call you? -

I didn't reply to his text. I just called back.

"Hi Mark," was all I said.

"So, are we on?"

"I want a nice, clean hotel room downtown, Mark. One in which I can park in the garage and take the elevator up to where you will book a room. You know of a place like that?"

I did. We had a hotel we booked clients at. I just wanted to know if he did.

"The Imperial," he said with no hesitation. "I'll text you a room number in less than twenty minutes. Is that OK?"

"You said I wouldn't be disappointed. Right?"

"You won't. he replied. I promise you.

And with that, he hung up.

Not wasting any time, I texted Jim with my regular cell.

- Linda: I have to work late. Make the kids dinner or do take out. I'll eat something when I get home. Love you. -

-Jim: Will do. Love you. Drive safe. -

I dropped the kids off at daycare each day, and he picked them up. That was our daily schedule. I had no doubt he would feed and take care of them. And just like that, my afternoon was mine to have. Like I said. I loved him, just wasn't in love with him anymore. And neither was he.

I never logged out for the day. Instead, I left my purse on my desk, took my wallet, keys, and laptop before walking off toward the fire stairs. Leaving my office door ajar and the lights on, if anyone needed me, they would think I was working elsewhere. Not that it was likely.

My boss gave me free rein to work as I pleased so long as I had everything done. And the office never shut down for the night. Lights were always on as the crew working overseas accounts came as everyone else left. It had been easy for me to sneak off and have an affair.

And as I did, I realized that had Jim wanted to, he could have had one himself. But by that point, I no longer cared. So long as our family stayed together, he could do as he pleased. And I was about to do the same.

***

First Play

-M: 1501 - his text said.

I smiled at that as I read it at a red light. Mark was undoubtedly trying to impress. Room 1501 was the penthouse at the Imperial Hotel. I had been there once for a New Year's Eve party my company held. It was doubtful that Mark LaValliere knew of that fact. But knowing the expense of renting the penthouse last minute, I knew Mark was trying to gain my favor. Why not? I was worth it, I thought. And still do.

Parking at the hotel underground lot, I checked my makeup on my SUV mirror and stepped out, locking it. Then I walked to the elevator and went to the lobby. Mark was waiting for me when the door opened. Only he could let me in the penthouse with his passkey. The elevator would not let us go to the top unless he used the code on the keypad on the back of the key. Like I said, I had been there before. Only last time, I had been a guest on my husband's arm. This time, I was there for a tryst with another man.

"You look ravishing," he said, pouring on the charm.

I was nervous. What woman would not be starting her first affair? But I had dressed the part. A tight flower-print dress just over the knee. Tasteful, but not too high black heels. My long wavy blond tresses flowing over my shoulders. And pink lipstick that matched the flower color on my dress. That completed the outside look, but what was underneath was better.

"I'm glad you like," I replied.

He probably thought I had dressed this way for him. Most men think so, but most are wrong. We ladies mainly dress for each other in the workplace and outside. If a man notices us, so much, the better. But our primary goal is to show down the other bitches.

"I like everything, Linda," he replied, undressing me with his eyes.

At five-foot-four inches, I am not tall. But even with my four-inch heels on, Mark towered over me. They don't let short men be tight ends in the NFL. When he moved closer, I still had to look up at his gorgeous face.

"Do YOU like what you see?" he asked as he ushered me to the elevator.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't, Mark," I replied, watching him hit the code on the pad. "How did you get the penthouse so quickly?"

He smiled confidently at my question as the doors swished shut, and we started to rise. Then he turned toward me, coming closer.

"All I had to do was call the manager," he said. "And offer him four seats in the fifty-yard line next home game."

"And here we are," I said, letting him take me in his arms.

We both knew where this was going by then. Both of us were drawn to each other and wanting more. When Mark's lips came close to mine, I did not resist or play games. Instead, I reached up and kissed him willingly. Not being with someone I loved, his kiss was arousing and sexual. Before the bell to the top floor hit, I was already feeling myself wet and passionate. And thirsty for more.

Just as I remembered, the elevator opened to a marble floor foyer. Then a spacious living room that had been the dance floor two New Year's eves ago. There were floor to ceiling glass walls all around, as well as a terrace with greenery outside. None of which I had seen in night-time before, not cared to now.

Giving me one more kiss, Mark walked me to the bar where I sat on a stool as he played host.

"What would the lady like to drink?"

"The lady doesn't want to be a lady right this moment, Mark," I said. "But I do have something to say before anything starts if you don't mind."