February Sucks for Walter Mitty - Sex Stories

February Sucks for Walter Mitty

... my back--or, for that matter, if I grabbed one of the knives off the table and jammed it between LaValliere's ribs--I still wouldn't win. Linda had chosen to do this, chosen to put a few dances with this manicured shitbag ahead of our marriage. She'd decided that she was the independent, strong woman who needed a man--HER man--like a fish needed a bicycle.

SHE had created this problem. I couldn't fix it for her. SHE had to pick her marriage--and me--over... whatever this was.

She had to bend. If not, we were going to break.

So I sat and fumed and thought dark thoughts through two songs while the rest of the table made lame attempts at conversation. I saw the nod LaValliere gave to the bandleader and the nod he got in return. Songs three, four and five were all slow dances, and they all played back-to-back.

LaValliere's dances with Linda were a parody of ours: Instead of our graceful seduction and flowing motion, his was a dance of dominance, of a man seizing control of a woman as he stomped around the dance floor. Linda didn't seem to mind--apparently, a little toxic masculinity was fine, as long as she got to be the belle of the ball.

Finally, LaValliere nodded at the bandleader and the music segued into something more up-tempo. He and Linda stepped out of their embrace, and he leaned down and whispered in her ear. Her smile widened. With one last squeeze of her forearm, he let her go and strutted back to his table. She turned to me and--for the first time ...

... since the asshole had taken her onto the dance floor--I saw her eyes. Saw their glittering brightness dim at the sight of me. Saw her beaming smile fade into something cold and stiff and fake.

Fuck.

Linda could be a decent actor when she tried, and she was trying hard as she walked back to me. But she couldn't hide the look on her face, the one that showed that I was now downgraded fromThe Love of Her Life toA Problem That Needed to Be Dealt With. She was most of the way to her seat when Dee shot up, her own glee giving a fresh boost against the dull dread in my wife's eyes.

"Linda, you were amazing!" Dee exclaimed. My wife's frozen smile widened and became genuine. My heart fell even further. As I stood up, the other couples in our group were looking at everything but me.

Dee leaned down and whispered something in Dave's ear. His face flushed and he put his hand to his mouth. What was he hiding? A grimace? A chuckle?

"Linda, Ihave to go to the bathroom," Dee said, her voice unnaturally bright. "Come with me!" Linda glanced at me again and I saw her eyes sparkle. And I knew.

Fuck.

HER body. HER choice.

FUCK!

And then my wife was gone with her best friend and I was standing by myself, feeling like the world's biggest doofus. My skin was prickly, like I was naked, and I felt the eyes of the entire room on me. Saw the smirks barely covered by their hands. I coughed. "Excuse me," I muttered. "I need a drink."

"Jim, I--" Dave started.

"Don't," I ...