Dancing, Which I Don't, My Ending

Dancing, Which I Don't, My Ending

Preface:

My dear readers, I rarely get involved with writing a sequel to another's work, but I noticed Kilty11's sequel of zampa's "Dancing, Which I Don't" and got mesmerized.

I first read the original, then Kilty's version.

I got the impression that Kilty felt as many commenters and I felt, that the husband did not respond correctly, that he acted too harsh, too fast. Kilty wrote a sequel to highlight the husband's errant thinking. My vision for a continuance of zampa's story was to stick as closely as possible to my perception of the motivation of the characters, but allow the hubby to seek out a more informed plan of response.

zampa's original - link: https://www.literotica.com/s/dancing-which-i-dont

Kilty11's sequel -- link: https://www.literotica.com/s/dancing-which-i-dont-my-version

I reached out to zampa for permission to write a follow-up to his story, but didn't receive a response. I also reached out to Kilty and he said that he had reached out also, with no reply. The last activity I see on Lit by zampa was 2014.

Two things immediately challenged me. First, the original was written in 1^st person, not my comfort zone -- but they say to expand your horizons. Second, the original only named the other man involved, never naming either of the married couple. This proved to be a difficult task, causing repetitive use of "she" & "her" and "I" & "me."

I was determined to stick it out though, so please cut me some slack for not naming the husband and wife.

Sorry, but this one contains very little sex. Next time, I promise.

Acknowledgements: I wish to thank, andyinoz ; Charlie ; Ted L for their advice and editing skills, making my work better.

A special thank you to Kilty11 for his assistance improving and getting this story ready to be presented to the Lit readership.

************

At the point when zampa's story has only three paragraphs left after this sentence: my ending begins:

"She said, we need to talk, and I replied that no, we had talked just now, and that she had better be on her way to her date."

*********

Dancing, Which I Don't, My Ending

At that point I expected my wife of all these many years to turn on her heel, walk out the door, and proceed to go out on a date with another man, leaving our future in ruin.

Instead, she added a dab of honey to her final effort to convince me to go, placing her anger on the back burner. Maybe the manner in which she had launched the alteration of our plans had seeped in to her brain, and became somewhat aware of why I was responding the way that I had been.

In a rephrased plea, she politely asked, "My husband, I love you and would not disgrace you. Please come with me, I do apologize for the short notice and promise to never again place you in this position. If you will grant me this request, it will be proven that I am innocent of plotting a betrayal. Please have faith in me this one time."

Her request was lengthy enough that I had time to reconsider my strategy, which at that point, was lacking... I knew little, very little, so I agreed to go, though in my mind, my wife had clearly breached a trust.

The drive to the restaurant (actually an upscale club showcasing fine dining and music for dancing) was void of pleasant conversation. Her occasional speaking of my name was met with silence, as I was preparing for meeting face to face with a man. A man named John Harmon. I wondered silently if this man had stolen my wife's affections.

Once our names were given to the maître d', we were shown to a table where a man stood, offered me his hand, and introduced himself. I replied with my name, and gave a slight dig, "You obviously know my wife, very well, I suppose."

The implied meaning of the remark was not missed, as both of my dinner partners looked at each other uncomfortably, sat quickly, and busied themselves with a menu.

Tension reined throughout the meal while small talk was made, with the duo trying to draw me into conversation. I was much more interested in listening than talking and some answers to my many unasked questions came to light.

I learned that Harmon was about 10 years younger than us, newly assigned to my wife's company, and among his hobbies were soccer, golf, and you guessed it... dancing.

I did my level best to not react as that particular fact was spilled. I noticed my wife's head suddenly spin toward me to gauge my reaction, then back to Harmon who was trying to figure out if he had said something that he shouldn't have. I believe that my ability to retain a stone-cold expression under crisis served me well, I didn't flinch.

With dinner finished and our table cleared, another round of drinks was ordered. Harmon and my wife drained their glasses at a much quicker pace than I, conceivably they needed courage because the music had begun and dancing was underway.

Perhaps in an effort to calm the coming storm, my wife looked to me and turned her hand over in a gesture to invite me to be the first to take her out on the floor. I answered her simply, "You know how I feel about dancing, and doubly so since you've invited an expert here. I don't believe that I'll voluntarily embarrass myself, thank you."

As my wife's eyes sought out the other male in our threesome, Harmon saw his opening. Addressing me first, revealing that he had thought about this moment enough to ensure proper decorum, he asked, "Sir, if you don't mind, I would like to dance with your wife," and then turned toward her and continued, "I am hoping that she will honor my request."

I ignored his request and she didn't speak, just latched onto his hand, and off they went. She did look back once, was it guilt? Maybe.

I sat at the table alone, sipped on my drink, and contemplated my situation. They stayed out for two dances, then a waltz began and the excitement to enjoy that also was clearly all over both of their faces.

I needed to do something. I could not just sit there for the entire evening, looking like a cuckold, while they had the time of their lives. Nothing had happened to that juncture that gave me any indication that the evening would play out differently from what was happening right then.

As I downed what was left of my drink, and was considering getting shit-faced-drunk, I noticed something; actually, someone. There was a group of three women, aged 30 to 40 something I suppose, sitting together having just finished their dinners, one of them was looking my way and smiling. Before their waitress reappeared, I made my move.

I walked over to their table and as bold as brass pulled out the vacant 4^th chair part way out as I asked them if I might join the table and treat them all to dinner and a drink.

They acted very amused and the lady to my right, Marleen, pointed to their empty dishes, smirked playfully, and said, "I believe that we've had dinner already."

I responded more quickly and with more than my usual amount of charm, "Yes, but it isn't paid for yet, and I'm thinking something sweet with alcohol would be welcomed."

The lady to my left was first to answer my request, "I don't know why, but I'm in. Sit down big boy, this story sure as hell is going to beat Linda telling us all about her children."

Her invitation was echoed by her friends, with Linda adding, "Shit for a free dinner here, I'll listen to your B.S. and bore Donna with my kids later."

We started talking, while my wife and her new boyfriend got lost in their excitement of dancing together. To be honest, they were impressive. Looking as though they had been partners for years, many in the club were watching the performance.

Meanwhile, their waitress appeared. It was the same girl that was working my table. She acknowledged that I would be picking up the tab, took our cocktail orders and dashed away; returning quickly with filled glasses.

My new trio of friends had noticed our table with two men accompanying one woman. I think women are particularly talented at picking up on the various pairings in this kind of environment.

Donna was first to broach the subject, "I'm guessing that you don't dance. Does she do this often? I mean, do you habitually get brought along and ditched while she spends the evening in another man's arms?"

"Jesus Donna, that was fucking direct," Marleen scolded.

"I am very sorry, that was rude of me. We had noticed the three of you, and after they stayed on the floor for a third dance, there was speculation among us about the circumstances and your state of mind," Donna replied.

"I thought that maybe y'all are related or something not so dramatic as my two want-a-be psychologist friends were suggesting," Linda added.

"How about we just let our new friend speak for himself?" Marleen suggested.

Donna reached out her hand and touched mine gently, saying, "I... We, would like to listen. Maybe even help."

I went on to explain, "If you're really interested, it's not a lengthy story and I've got absolutely nothing else going for me tonight."

The three women instantly gave visual and verbal encouragement for me to spill my guts, Donna still held my hand, which was not unnoticed by her colleagues.

About that time, the duo returned to their table. Perhaps seeking refreshments, but I thought I saw a brief disturbance during their dance. They had been way too close together for my comfort, which just made me feel worse, but something caused them to stop before the song was over.

When they got to their table, a glance around, presumably for me was made. I was undetected, possibly because they were looking for a man by himself. They both seemed unconcerned that I was not at the table, probably figuring a needed bathroom break had me occupied.

When I had not returned in a reasonable amount of time, a sudden look of alarm came over my wife's face. She leaned in close to Harmon to voice her concern, however he nodded discreetly in the general direction of the three women and me.

My actions were totally unexpected by my wife and I suppose that her mind filled with questions, like, "Was I seeking a female companion for the night? Why hadn't I returned when they had stopped dancing? Should she go over to where I was with the three women?"

Later, I learned, that the last question was decided first. Her coming over to where I was seated with three lovely women may well end in embarrassment for her, so that was out, at least at that point in time. "Don't react too quickly," she thought, "He's just jerking my chain and he'll be over soon."

Also later, I found out that she confided her thoughts to Harmon, that I would return soon, however, he replied with a shrug of his shoulders and an, "I don't know, maybe."

Meanwhile, I had related to my new female friends the entire story of how the night had unfolded, including my dislike of dance and my wife's love of it. The women knew without me saying it that I felt extremely disrespected.

A new song began playing, a very slow ballad. Donna's eyes sparkled and she increased the grip that she had on my hand and said, "Let's go. This one's so slow that you won't hardly have to move."

"But I hate to dance, that's how I got to be here with the three of you," I said.

"Can you think of a better way to stick it to her, than dancing with another woman, when you had refused her earlier?" Donna replied.

"She's right, buddy. There isn't a way in the world that would shove it in her face any better and you know it," said Linda.

I guess my face's appearance changed from a gloomy despair to glowing like a neon sign. "What a great fucking idea!" I said, as I began to imagine how deeply it would cut my wife.

When I nodded my approval, Marleen asked, "Donna, you got it from here? I have to go."

Then Linda chimed in, "I'm married, it can't be me. I need to head home anyway."

Donna gave the OK sign to her friends indicating that she was indeed stepping up.

When we moved to the floor and started a slow swaying back and forth, Donna whispered, "Just follow me, let me move you to the music. Your part is to hold me as close as you dare. When they (gesturing toward my wife and Harmon) danced, they sometimes rubbed against each other very intimately."

Allowing Donna to guide me around the floor was very satisfying, mostly because I had managed to not step on her feet. Also, I was distracted by the pleasure of such a beautiful woman encouraging me to hold her so closely. My anger toward my wife had abated, but only for a few moments.

Then the tempo picked up, so I told Donna that I needed to get back to our table.

Once there, we began talking, my new dance partner pointed out that our trip to the floor must have had an impact. My wife and her boyfriend did not appear to be enjoying the evening with the same level of enthusiasm.

I thought, "Trouble in paradise?"

Then, Donna surprised me with an offer, "Look, you two are not ready to scrap your marriage. She doesn't have feelings for that guy, her eyes are following you around like radar tracking a target.

"She's created a fucked-up scenario and probably doesn't know what to do now. From the looks of the guy that you keep calling her boyfriend; he looks uneasy, like he wants out of this situation. I get it that you want her to sweat, and I'll help; but your end game should be to fix this."

"Damn right she needs to sweat, I came within a single sentence of declaring our marriage over, and walking."

"No. That's too harsh for this mistake of hers. I understand that you're hurt, and you need an apology from her, perhaps even something stronger, some measure of capitulation, maybe. Remember, she is not technically cheating on you, however, she is disrespecting your marriage. She needs a harsh wake up call to the fact that everybody has to give up some things when married. She is being selfish and hasn't considered that you have given up certain things, to remain happily married.

"I know that you did not plan it, and it may not seem like it, but, right now anyway, you have the upper hand. Don't use it to slap her, instead, give your wife the space to come back into your world, maybe grovel a bit, but come back to you. It isn't necessary to make her crawl on her knees, a private admission that tonight's a major fuck up and it is her fault will suffice. Also, I doubt that you are all squeaky-clean innocent in this, but clearly, her plan for tonight sucked."

"Tell me, since I'm getting no vibes that you would like to date me; why are you going so far out of your way to repair my life?" I asked.

"Look, you are a great guy. If... IF, you weren't married, I might want to take a look. But I have a rule: I DO NOT date married men. Tonight, was not a date, we bumped into each other here, and I'm only trying to help out a nice guy.

"As to why I'm trying... I fucked-up my own marriage. No, I didn't cheat, but I was too flirty with other men and when my husband pressed me on it; I flirted even more. I wish to God that somebody would have stepped in and held a mirror to my face. Before I woke up, he had enough of my shit and sent me packing. There's not a day that goes by where I don't regret what I did," Donna confessed.

"Why don't you go back after him? Maybe..." she cut me off before I could finish.

"Because before I got up the nerve, a sweet thing with a sexy ass swooped him up and he's never been as happy. Goddamn, she is so fucking perfect, she'll never cheat. I've seen them at a couple of parties, she doesn't do any of that shit I used to do with other men. She adores him... and he her. Fuck.

"Anyway, back to your problem. We should appear like we are getting ready to leave. Pay up our tab here when they can see. That will scare the shit out of her, and it will force Harmon to stay. I think he has been looking for an opportunity to bolt, but if you left, it wouldn't be gentlemanly to leave her stranded. In order to watch you closely, or to confront you if you do appear to be leaving, they will probably stick pretty close to their table, because they won't be able to watch you closely from the dance floor."

"Then what?" I asked.

"Next, we go back out on the floor. She may wonder if it's a 'last dance' before we duck out, to further explore our evening, which will have her on the brink," Donna explained.

"Then what? We leave?" I asked, not yet seeing the full picture.

"No, we don't leave. Then, my dear wounded man, you bring me over to join them, offering to buy drinks for everyone. Your attitude should be, she has her date, you have yours, AND you seem to be very happy about it. Seat us so that you are in the middle with me on one side and Harmon on the other, placing your wife as far away from you as possible and still be at the table.

"To keep the pressure on, every time a slow song plays, take me out on the floor. She may try to cut in, but I think it's more likely that she'll try to get Harmon to ask me to dance. This would leave her alone with you, giving her a chance to make amends. But I won't make it easy," Donna stated with a smirk on her face.

This woman amazed me. It seemed like she had a crystal ball and knew their moves before THEY knew them. I flagged down our waitress and made it look like I was settling our tab. Actually, I was letting her know that we intended to join the other table and could combine both checks at the end of the night.

Another slow song was playing, so Donna and I hit the floor again.

When the music ended, Donna said, "Come on, it's time to get this started."

It was showtime. I escorted my new friend to the table where my wife had made it easy for me. The table had four chairs, but to be able to hear Harmon clearly, as she and he had been engaged in near continuous conversation, she was sitting in one closer to him.

As we approached their table, I waved the waitress who had been serving all of us throughout the night over and said to the seated couple, "It's getting a bit crowded in here, so I'm sure you and my wife don't mind if we join you, to free up a table.

I pulled out a chair for Donna, putting her to my right and Harmon to my left, just as planned. To the waitress, I said, "Get everyone whatever their drinking, please." She nodded and scurried off to get our refreshments.

Then to the rest of the group, I added, "Forgive me, I'm so rude. I didn't think to ask, but I thought sure that it would be alright for Donna and I to join my wife and, ah, er, Haymon, isn't it?"

I had deliberately messed up his name. It was childish, but I enjoyed pissing on his shoe for his part in this fiasco. Recovering from my ungentlemanly behavior, I introduced Donna to everyone, this time getting Harmon's name right. They were both too shocked at my behavior to counter attack and just sat there, smiling their acquiescence.

I hadn't a clue how to be able to carry the conversation. My hope was that Donna would step in, as I wasn't sure how long I would be able to keep up my acting. Fortunately for me, it was later in the evening and slow music was played more often. Donna touched my hand and back to the floor we went.

As we began to embrace, I noticed that the duo had stayed at the table in an animated tête-à-tête.

As Donna crushed her body into mine, she laid her head on my shoulder, and whispered into my ear, "One other thing, I have an idea that might be useful, but I need your absolute honesty."

I nodded my head to indicate that I would tell what ever truth that she wanted. The question she asked surprised me, but I nuzzled into her neck, answered truthfully, and agreed to trust her.