February Sucks - Another Version

Even though I had cut off all romantic feelings for Linda, I realized that in the corner of my mind was an ember of anger that caused me to grind my teeth together. She had to be made to realize just how much her night of erotic sex had cost her.

As the evening wore on, the club filled with people having dinner and drinks. Around 9PM, the band started playing. I looked up at one especially noisy table and noted several big men and well-dressed ladies were sitting there. I recognized them as some of the Asshole's friends from almost a year before. At one point, one of the men stood up and made a toast that was intended to be heard by many people at the surrounding tables as well as among his entourage.

"Here is to Marc, our friend and inspirational leader. Even if he will not be playing with us on the field of battle anymore, we all know he will be back on the dance floor soon and entertaining us with his ability to romance any married woman he sets his sites on."

"There was a chorus of, "Here, here!" and "To Marc!"

As they finished, I raised my glass and said, "Here, here, Asshole," loud enough for everyone to hear.

Before I knew it, I had a linebacker on either side of me. "What's your problem, Mac?" one of them asked.

"Well, Clyde (I had no idea of his real name), the Asshole fucked my wife and ruined my marriage," I replied.

One of the two sounded sympathetic. "You are right, Marc is an Asshole when he does his little act. I'm sorry, Mac."

The other one said, "Maybe you should just get over it. It was a one-time thing. Get on with your life."

I looked at this guy straight in his eyes. "How would you feel, Leroy (I had no idea what his real name was) if your teammate fucked your wife?"

I saw it in his eyes. "He has fucked your wife, hasn't he!" I exclaimed.

The big football player looked embarrassed. "It was a long time ago. It didn't mean anything. I got passed it. Marc and I are good buddies now."

"The hell you are," I went on. "You are a bigger cuckold than I ever was. What possessed you to put up with that kind of insult? Did you take one for the team? Did you fold so you could keep your job? Maybe if you had made a big deal of it, you would have been dropped from the team rather than your star tight end?"

"You have a big mouth, Mac." The first lineman said to me.

The second giant punched me in the stomach in a manner that was impossible to see by anyone else in the club. I doubled over on the bar as they walked away. Brigette came to my aid.

"Are you all right, Mr. Carlisle? Can I help somehow?"

"I'm good, Sugar," I said. "I'll be fine in a few minutes. Please just bring me another drink if you would."

Another hour or so went by and I continued to drink without getting drunk. I had a lot of questions on my mind. I was wondering about my decision to stay married to Linda. Was it worth it to stay with a woman I told myself I didn't love just for the benefit of the children? Maybe it would be better to start looking for my soul mate as early as possible and be the best single dad in the world. My kids were so young, though. I just couldn't live without them as they grew up.

"So many questions," I told myself.

While I was at the bar, obviously alone, I was hit on a number times by women who asked me to dance. I did dance with several of them until it was obvious to me that I was getting too blasted to stand up straight or drive home. Brigette recognized my condition and cut me off alcohol. She started serving me hot black coffee. It must have been around 11PM when Brigette agreed that I was steady enough to drive and gave me my keys.

I stopped at the tables of the women who had asked me to dance and told them that I was pleased to have been asked to dance by them. On any other occasion, I would have asked for their phone numbers, but tonight, I was distracted by personal problems.

As I stepped out of the club, I found the cool January air was refreshing and invigorating. Without staggering, I made my way to my car and used the electronic key to unlock it. Just as I opened the door, however, I was pushed hard and then hit in the back of the head. Next, I was pulled from the car and came face to face with Leroy, the linebacker who had been cuckolded by the Asshole. I was hit hard in my left eye. He struck me a second time in the mouth.

"Maybe you should just go along with the program, Mac," he said before he hit me again in the eye.

I tried to defend myself but I had had too much to drink and my arms just flailed uselessly.

The big man tried to hit me again and I ducked. His fist grazed my forehead and his ring, maybe a Superbowl ring, cut me badly.

"That's enough!" someone said. It was the voice of Clyde, the lineman who had had some sympathy for me.

I was not seeing too well out of my left eye at this point but I heard the voice say, "Just go home, Mac. Take care of yourself. You will be fine. Don't make any trouble or it will go bad for you."

He put me in the driver's seat and slapped my face a few times to make certain I was alert enough to drive. "Go home," he said.

Being attacked and beaten generates a certain amount of adrenalin that sobers a person up very quickly. I drove home very carefully and parked in the carport. At that time, I noticed the blood. It was dripping from my face onto my shirt and coat. I entered the house by the side door into the back porch and kitchen. I grabbed a bunch of paper towels and held them to my face. Then, I made my way into the hallway on the way to the spare bedroom. Linda was sitting at the dining room table and noticed me.

"Oh my God, Jim! What happened to you?" she almost screamed.

"I ran into a couple of the Asshole's friends. They didn't appreciate my toast to their teammate.

I didn't feel like being cared for by Linda. I held her at arms-length when she tried to approach me.

"I will be okay. Just leave me alone," I said.

"But you're bleeding badly and your eye is black and blue."

"I'll be fine. Just leave me alone," and I pushed her away.

She followed me to the bathroom where I looked at myself in the mirror. "Oooh," I said when I looked at myself.

I ran the cold water and tried to wash my face. My eye was black. My lip was badly cut and continued to bleed. A long gash on forehead was bleeding badly. Now, for the first time, my wounds were beginning to hurt. I reached into the medicine cabinet for some Oxycodone, left over from some prior medical event.

"You need to go to the ER," Linda said. "At least go to an emergency care clinic."

"Maybe tomorrow," I replied.

I dried my face, opened the medicine cabinet and looked for some surgical tape and gaze. I was clumsy enough with the medical equipment that I allowed Linda to help me put gaze and tape over my open wounds.

"I need to sleep," I said and I made my way to the guest bedroom.

"I want to stay with you," Linda protested.

"I would prefer to be alone. Go to bed. I will see you in the morning."

I took off my jacket and shoes and just laid down on the bed. Soon I was asleep.

It was early in the morning when Linda wakened me. "Wake up, Sweetheart, the doctor is here."

I did wake up. And I sat up to find Linda standing over me with her gynecologist, Joyce Cory. Joyce was a good friend of Linda's and the family. Looking around, I noticed that the pillow and sheets were covered with dried blood. Also, I saw a blanket and pillow on the floor next to the bed. Apparently, Linda had slept in the guest room with me overnight.

"What's happening," I asked.

"I called Joyce and she agreed to examine you and take care of your injuries.

Joyce was already pulling the tape and gaze from my face and examining my wounds.

"It seems as though you lost the fight," she said.

"It wasn't much of a fight," I replied.

When the doctor was finished working on me, she said, "Your eye will heal itself in about two weeks. I had to put two stitches in your lip, but when they come out, your mouth will look like it always has. The cut on your head required seven stitches. The wound will heal but you might have a slight scar for the rest of your life. It will be pronounced at first, but it will gradually fade over time to the point where it is barely noticeable."

"Wonderful," I said. "It's not like I had a beautiful face to start with." I looked at Linda when I said that. She turned away.

I spent the rest of the day by myself. Linda realized I didn't want her near me and gave me my space. Even though it was cool outside, I sat by the fire I made in the firepit until it was dark. At dinner time, she brought me a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of tomato soup. I thanked her. I couldn't eat the sandwich because it required too much movement of my jaw. I was able to finish the soup.

Later in the evening, Linda sat down in the swinging love seat on the patio while I remained in the patio chair. She didn't say anything at first but just looked at me.

Finally, she said, "If only..."

I looked straight into her eyes. "If only what?" I asked her. "'If only I hadn't fucked the Asshole, I would still have a happy marriage and a husband that loved me?' or, 'If only you could have looked at my night of debauchery as a one-time anomaly in a fifty-year marriage, we could have continued on as a happily married couple as if nothing had happened?'"

"Which 'If only' were you thinking about?" I demanded to know. "I suspect it was the latter 'If only'. 'If only you could have accepted my one night of the most awesome sex I ever experienced and lived as a cuckold for the rest of your life, everything would have been perfect for us.'"

Linda lowered her head and put her hand to her forehead. She sobbed once and then said, "You don't understand. I so want you to understand how I felt." She stood up and started back into the house. Before she got to the French doors, she stopped and said, "I don't believe you don't love me. In time, you will see that you do and then, maybe, we can go forward."

I said to myself, "You are the one who does not understand."

I stayed by the fire until after midnight. I thought that maybe I shouldn't remain so indifferent to my life with Linda. It was obvious to me that her refusal to acknowledge her affair with the Asshole as anything other than calamitous to our lives was still a deep bother to me. I was beginning to wonder if I could stay with Linda under any circumstances as long as she held on to her memory of her night with the Asshole.

What, if anything, could I do to make her see how ruinous it was to both of us?

Then, I thought of a way I might do that. I spent the next few hours and days planning a way that might make her see the true consequences of her actions.

A week later, I felt better, both physically and emotionally. I regained my deportment as a happy individual. I was courteous and polite to Linda again and I spent delightful days with my children.

After a few more days, Doctor Joyce came by to check my wounds. My eye was still black and blue. She changed the bandage on my face and checked the stitches in my lip. Another visit a few weeks later assured me that I was mending well. My stitches were taken out of my lip and forehead. I still looked like hell.

In early February, I suggested to Linda that we go on a date to celebrate Valentine's Day. She was very happy to accept, although a little hesitant when I said I had reservations at the Iris Club. She asked me if we were going alone or if we were going to meet friends. I asked her who she would like to invite along. She immediately named our old friends. She said they missed me a lot and were anxious to reestablish a close friendship with us. I thought it was prophetic based upon my actual plans for the evening. It was to be a dress-up occasion.

Our date was for a Friday that was not actually the 14^th of February, since that day was in the middle of the week. It was for the Friday following Valentine's Day. Close enough.

The plan was to get to the dance club early enough to have hors d'oeuvres, heavy appetizers and a drink before the dancing started.

I left work early on Friday and went to a salon where I had my hair cut and my beard shaved off. I wanted to look like I had on the night that everything went awry. When I arrived home on Friday afternoon, Linda was pleased to see me as I had been before that fateful night.

"You look very handsome," she said to me. "Like the man I remember... like my husband."

Linda and I arrived at the club about the same time as my former friends. They all tried to shake my hand and pat me on the back as a way of telling me that they were sorry for what had happened. That did not include Dee.

We ordered our drinks and some appetizers to share around the table. I had my favorite social drink, Bourbon and seven, that I nursed for an hour. At 9PM, the band set up and started to play. I asked Linda to dance and she was delighted that I did so. I also made certain I danced some fast numbers with the other wives. Everyone was in a very affable mood. Linda and the others thought that we were all back to our former relationship. Linda, especially, believed that I was finally coming around to acceptance of her dalliance with the Asshole.

At 10PM exactly, we were all at the table taking a break from the dancing. My chair, at the end of the table was turned away from the dance floor. I noted the expressions on several of our friends change as they looked past me in the direction of the band. All three of our men friends had their mouths open. The eyes of the women were wide open and staring.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see the most beautiful woman in the world, and the sexiest. She had long blond hair that was piled on her head in sophisticated twirl. She was wearing a black off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that was low enough that the tops of her full breasts were plainly exposed.

She was smiling at me when she said, "Excuse me, but I am here alone and I would love to dance with you if you could do me that favor."

I had been making it a point to hold Linda's hand under the table. I dropped it like a hot potato as I stood up to face the beautiful woman who was addressing me. "In a heartbeat," I replied to her.

I took the beautiful lady's hand and we walked to the center of the dance floor.

A more complete description of her dress would include that fact that it plunged down so low in the back that the cleavage of her butt just about showed. It was held in place with only a gold chain across her shoulder blades. The dress fit tightly around her waist, which was quite small, and then opened up around her to-die-for ass. The skirt appeared to be long and tight, but it had a slit up to her thigh on each side that gave her plenty of freedom to dance, as well as show off her well-curved legs.

We stopped on the dance floor just as the band started playing, Let My Love Open the Door, by Michael Cavanaugh. I was proficient enough in Swing dance moves to complete a three-minute song without repeating any steps. When it finished, a Hustle number was played, Bogie Oogie Oogie, by A Taste of Honey. I was having a lot of fun. It reminded me of the memorable times I had on the singles cruise the previous April. After the third song, a Cha-cha, the band slowed down the tempo with I Want to Make It with You, by Jimmy Dempsey.

My dancing partner melted into my arms and put her head on my shoulder.

"It's so great to see you again. I never knew you could look so beautiful," I said.

"Thank you, Jim," she answered. "I'm happy to see you, too. I wouldn't do this for anyone in the world but you."

We finished the dance with both of my arms around her waist, touching her bare back and both of her arms around my shoulders with one hand caressing my neck. All this time, I never once looked back at Linda.

As the song finished, I took her hand and led her back to our table. I whispered in her ear, "Are you ready for this?"

"I always wanted to be an actress," she whispered back.

As I stopped at my chair at our table, my dancing partner was on my left. I had my hand around her waist and she had one hand on my chest.

Still without looking at Linda, I said, "This is Ellen. We are going to be leaving now. We are going to spend the night together."

There were gasps from several of the group.

Ellen poked me in the chest and reminded me of our arrangement. "Oops, I spoke in error. We are going to spend the next two nights together."

Phil said to no one in particular, "She's a walking wet dream."

I heard Larry say, "Go for it you lucky son of a bitch." Lois elbowed him hard.

I looked at Linda for the first time. "I'm certain you understand."

Linda was crying silently and shaking her head, "No, no, no," she was sobbing... "This can't be happening."

"Just a minute. This has got to be a set-up," said John.

"I think she's probably a prostitute," interjected Larry. "hired by Jim to put on this little show for us."

Ellen felt me tighten up at the insult but she restrained me and patted my chest affectionately.

"Actually, I'm an escort," she stated bluntly to everyone at the table. "There's a difference between a prostitute and an escort, but I'm not going to take the time to explain it to you. You should know that I'm a very high-priced escort. I'm expensive because I'm very, very good at what I do.

"Jim and I are very good friends. Our time together is going to be my treat. And when I get done with him, he will not be able to remember how to get home. And, I expect Jim will be just as ardent. Fortunately, I have a GPS."

Linda continued to cry silently. Tears were running down her face and dripping onto the table and her dress. Dee tried to comfort her. "He's just doing this to get even with you. He'll never have the experience with that tramp that you had with Marc."

Linda replied in a whisper. "He's not trying to get even. He's trying to make me feel what he felt that night. And it hurts."

I turned to "Dee, I'm sure you and Dave can make certain that Linda gets home safely."

I addressed the group again. "Unlike a similar event in this club about a year ago, we are not sneaking out the back door of the club. Rather, we will be leaving arm-in-arm by the front entrance where a valet will meet me with my car. It's not a fiery red sports car. It's only an SUV, but it will do.

"Oh, one last thing. A year ago, I told you all that you were dead to me. You still are."

"Good night," were my last words to them, hopefully, forever.

I drove Ellen to the Madison Hotel where I had checked into a room earlier in the day. As the valet drove away in my car, Ellen grabbed my sleeve to stop us from going inside.

"Before we go in, Jim, there is something I want to say.

"Being an escort sounds very classy and romantic to some people, but it is not always. A lot of men have fucked me. But the type of men I deal with are not normally handsome swashbuckling movie stars. They are too often losers in one way or another. Sometimes they are fat slobs who couldn't get a normal date. Other times they are old men trying to impress their friends. Some are sexual deviants who have strange ideas about sex and sometimes hurt me."

"I am none of those, Ellen. I will treat you like gold." I told her.

"I know you will, Jim. I know you have been jerked around by a wife you loved once and who I think you may still love. I admire you a lot for putting up with what you had to in order to raise your children and remain their dad."

"What are you trying to say, Ellen?" I asked.

"Once we step inside the hotel, I want you to be mine, all mine. I don't want you to think about Linda, or your marriage or your children. You can just fuck me if you want, but I would very much prefer that you make love to me, because I will be making love to you."