A Time to Cheat

A Time To Cheat

Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (And yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

Rhamn (pronounced 'rahm') K'luahine enjoyed feeling the wind rush through his thick black hair as he drove his small American convertible on the two-lane highway that would take him and his wife to the southernmost part of his home island, Ka'atani.

Located in the south Pacific Ocean, Ka'atani actually consisted of several islands, the largest of which was about 65 miles from tip to tip and home to about 1.5 million natives and another 100,000 foreigners, mostly Americans.

Ka'atani was an independent nation, with its own government, police and defense force. Historically, the nation had been ruled by a monarch, but had adopted a democratic system similar to that used in the United States. It had a president, who was elected to serve one five-year term, and a house of representatives, with members elected every two years by the citizenry.

The nation had begun an aggressive campaign of modernization over 70 years ago under a previous monarch who felt it was time to bring the population into the twentieth century. As a result, Ka'atani today had all the conveniences of modern life, including the Internet, along with all the trappings of a modern civilization.

Fortunately, the people had managed to remain true to most of their ancient values, and as a result, the nation still had the lowest divorce rate in the world -- even surpassing India, which by some reports, only has a one percent divorce rate.

Except for the strange rocks scattered on the sides of Mount S'tani that glowed at night, the sandy beaches and the hospitality of the population, Ka'atani had nearly nothing to offer potential conquerors, and had so far escaped the stigma of foreign rule. Not even the Japanese considered Ka'atani during World War 2, thinking it too far south to be of much use in its conquest of the Pacific.

This was where Rhamn was born and raised, the place he called home, and he loved it. It was a good day for a drive, he thought. Not too hot, not too cold and the humidity was bearable at this altitude. The reason for the drive, however, made him both angry and sad.

He looked at the woman sitting in the passenger seat. Marion was her name. She was a California beauty, he thought. Blonde hair, soft, supple skin, firm breasts with prominent nipples that begged to be sucked and tanned, toned legs made for sex. She wasn't just his wife -- she was every man's wet dream. He had just over an hour before they reached their destination, so he thought back over their lives together.

He met her six years ago, when he first accepted a teaching position at the local campus of an American university headquartered in Washington, D.C. At the time, he had just completed his doctorate and decided to return home. The local university board welcomed him with open arms and offered him the position. He took to it like a fish to water. He loved teaching, and he enjoyed teaching the local youth.

She worked in the admissions office as a counselor, and the two of them met at a social function held by the president of the university. They took to each other, dated for about a year, and eventually married. She was an only child who had lost her parents in an auto accident just a couple years before. As far as he knew, she had no other relatives.

Strangely enough, she wanted a traditional Ka'atani marriage. He thought that odd, since most local girls wanted anything but a traditional marriage these days. At first, he thought that maybe she was either patronizing him or was a bit delusional, and questioned her about it. Perhaps she didn't fully understand the true meaning of what she claimed to want, he thought. But she was adamant that was what she wanted.

So he gave her a text file of the chant she would have to repeat at the ceremony and taught her the proper way to pronounce the words. She already knew some of the local language, enough to communicate in the local markets, but not enough to fully understand the real meaning of what she would commit herself to.

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Toward the end, Marion knelt in her short white robe and picked up the pillow next to her. She held it up to him and chanted the traditional phrase perfectly. A rough English translation of the phrase was, "I submit myself to you, my husband, in body, mind and spirit." Of course, there was a much fuller meaning of the phrase, but it had long since been largely forgotten by all but the oldest and most traditional of the population.

He grasped the s'ivaj sitting on the pillow -- a short, curved dagger carried by husbands in the old days -- a sign that they were off limits and prepared to defend to the death that which was theirs and theirs alone. He admired Marion's handiwork -- the richly adorned handle with the seal of his family. She had even anointed it with her own blood as was done in the old days.

After he repeated the chant, he held the knife and cut the ties holding her robe, letting it fall to the ground. She remained still, her naked body now in full view of those in attendance. He opened his own robe and presented his manhood to her. As tradition demanded, she took his manhood into her mouth and sucked it until he was fully erect. To his amazement, she managed to engulf his entire penis in her mouth. At eight and a half inches, he was slightly larger than the average Ka'atani male.

Then he picked her up and placed her, naked, on the wedding altar. He spread her legs wide for all to see. He smiled as he took in her shaved pussy. In the old days, the husband would use the s'ivaj to remove his bride's pubic hair on the altar, but that wasn't necessary today.

He moved close and, in front of all those present, consummated the marriage on the altar, until they both reached orgasm. In times long past, this was where the bride would prove to her family and to the community as a whole that she was a virgin, worthy of her new husband.

He helped her off the altar and the two walked back down the "aisle" to his car, his semen running down her leg, a sign that she now belonged to him and him alone. After their first night on the island, they flew back to the States, where they enjoyed a week-long honeymoon in Las Vegas.

The next three years were great. Rhamn and Marion continued their work at the University and spent their free time making sweet love to each other. He couldn't imagine life getting any better than this. Then Marion got transferred to the main campus in Washington, D.C., so he put in for a transfer as well, hoping the school would give him a chance to teach in the American capitol city.

The board agreed to transfer him, and so the two set off to live and work in Washington. Marion had lived there prior to coming to Ka'atani, and promised to show him all the sights, not knowing that he had spent several weekends in the city while attending college.

The next year and a half saw a number of changes in their lives. Marion's new position required her to work later than normal sometimes, travel and attend social functions where she hob-nobbed with the rich and famous. Sometimes, she took him with her to these functions. Even though she introduced him as her husband and a professor, he got the feeling that he was a token, or worse, an exhibition -- a zoo creature to be stared at by the locals.

More than once, he felt uneasy and irritated at the patronizing manner in which the others spoke to him. Some even raised their voice and spoke slowly as though he was some kind of invalid who didn't understand English. More than once, he had to refrain from putting his fist through someone's face. He remembered one conversation he had with Marion after a recent event.

"Are you okay, honey," she asked as he stripped off his expensive suit.

"No, I'm not," he growled in his deep baritone voice.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Did someone say something bad to you?"

"It's the way it was said," he told her. "Do you remember that scene in 'Outlaw Josey Wales' where the character played by Chief Dan George talked about meeting Abraham Lincoln at the White House?" She nodded her head.

"Yes, I do," she said. They had just watched the movie on DVD a couple nights previous.

"I can relate to what he said," he told her. "It's almost as if these people think because I'm a Pacific Islander I should have a bone in my nose and wear a loincloth."

"Well, you would need a pretty long one," she told him, patting his crotch. He chuckled at that.

"Do they not realize I graduated at the top of my class at Harvard?" he asked her. "Do they not know how I worked to put myself through college so I wouldn't be a burden or have to carry a heavy load of debt?"

"I don't think so," she said quietly.

"Well, I don't like these people you have to kowtow to," he said. "And I sure as hell don't like being displayed like some kind of zoo specimen."

"It's all part of the game," she said. "But I understand how you feel. You don't have to attend these things if you feel uncomfortable, you know." He shook his head.

"No, you're my wife, and I should be there to support you," he said. "Besides, I don't like the thought of someone else escorting you. By the way, what's with this new boss of yours, Jake Hamilton?" he asked. He met Jake that evening for the first time and took an instant dislike to him. His face had "pussy hound" written all over it.

"They just recently brought him in," she said. "He's from New York. He's really a very sweet guy once you get to know him."

"He's seems to have taken a liking to you," Rhamn said. He couldn't help but notice that Jake had spent most of night close to Marion. Some times, he thought, maybe just a bit too close.

"You're not jealous, are you?" she asked. He smiled and took her in his big arms.

"Of course I am," he said playfully. "But he does know that you're married, right?"

"Yes, he knows," she said, putting her arms around his neck.

"Good," Rhamn said. "I hope he remembers." They finished the night making love, but he had a bad feeling in his gut. Something told him he needed to keep an eye on Jake Hamilton.

Thing went straight downhill over the next six months. Marion ended up getting sent out of town with Jake a number of times, and she started working much later in the evenings -- far more than before. As a result, their sex life all but disappeared as she always seemed to be too tired to do anything.

It all crumbled one day when Rhamn was in his office going over student papers. He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said. The door opened and a petite brunette poked her head inside. She pushed her glasses up her nose before speaking.

"Dr. K'luahine, do you have a couple minutes," she asked. He looked at her and instantly recognized her as one of the girls who worked in Marion's office, but he couldn't remember her name. He motioned for her to come inside.

"Please, come in," he said. "And feel free to call me Rhamn. My students call me Dr. K'luahine, but you're obviously not one of my students." She walked into his office and stood before his desk. "What can I do for you, Ms..."

"Harper," she said quietly. "April Harper. I work in your wife's office."

"Yes, of course," he said. "What can I do for you Ms. Harper?"

"Well," she began nervously. "I don't quite know how to say this."

"I find it's best to simply say what's on your mind," he told her. She nodded her head.

"Well, it's about your wife and Mr. Hamilton," she said, getting his full attention. "I'm kinda embarrassed to say, since it's quite personal, but I think what they're doing is just wrong, and I thought you have a right to know. That is, unless you already know and approve of it. I know some guys like that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing is that, Ms. Harper?" he asked. "What are they doing that upsets you so much?"

"They're, well, having an affair," she said. He felt his face turn red.

"Are you absolutely certain of that, Ms. Harper?" he asked. "That's quite an accusation."

"They're gone most every day for lunch," she said. "And their lunches often last longer than normal. They take trips together all the time. He buys her flowers and it's pretty obvious from the way they interact that it's more than just a professional relationship. Plus, the girls are all talking. Mr. Hamilton has quite a reputation, even though he tries to keep it all hush-hush."

"I see," Rhamn said. "Have you personally witnessed anything to suggest they're having an affair? Have you seen them kiss each other or do anything inappropriate? PDAs? Anything?"

"I did see them kiss one day when they came out of his office," she said nervously. He nodded his head when she finished.

"Tell me, Ms. Harper, how often does Mr. Hamilton have you girls work after hours?" he asked. She shook her head.

"We generally don't work after hours," she said. "The college is very strict about that. Marion and Jake sometimes stay late, but the rest of us normally don't. The only time we might work after hours is when we're getting ready for graduation or student enrollment. But even then, we get comp time to make up for it. They hate paying overtime."

"I see. Have you said anything to anyone else?" he asked.

"I haven't said anything to anyone," she said. "I wanted to bring it to you first. We all like Marion and we don't want to see her get in trouble. Still, it's unsettling. If the dean or the president ever saw it, there'd be hell to pay."

"Yes, there would," Rhamn said. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Ms. Harper. I'll take care of it from here."

"Thank you, Dr., er, Rhamn," she said. After she left the office, he pulled up a Word document that he had saved on his computer. It was a list of private investigators and divorce attorneys he had been collating for a while. He had hoped he wouldn't need to use any of the information, but he felt as though he now had no choice. If she was cheating as April said, he would have no choice but to divorce her. He picked up his phone and made a call.

He wasn't surprised when Marion texted him later that day to say she would be working late. He sat at the dining room table and picked at his food, wondering what his wife and Jake were doing at that moment. Eventually, he tossed the leftover lasagna into the garbage disposal and went upstairs to the master bedroom. He put on a pair of pajamas and laid in bed with the television on.

He woke up when he heard Marion in the room. She came over to him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Her hair smelled like it had been freshly shampooed and he thought he detected an odor of after shave.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know he would keep me so long. I grabbed a bite to eat on the way home." She went into the bathroom and came out a short time later wearing a pair of flannel pajamas. That was her signal that there would be no sex tonight. He really didn't want to have sex with her anyway, not if she had just been with Jake.

"He's been working you late a lot lately," Rhamn said. "How much longer is this going to go on?"

"Hard to say," she said. "He's kept the whole department working late." He felt rage hearing her lie to him, but kept himself under control.

"The whole department, huh?" he asked. "I thought the college frowned on overtime."

"Normally, yes," she said. "But he's got a big meeting coming up with some major donors soon and we have to be ready for it. Oh, that reminds me. We're going to New York on Friday. We'll be leaving before lunch and will be gone for the weekend."

"That's rather short notice," he said. Today was Wednesday, or rather, early Thursday morning.

"That's why we're working so much now," she said. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"Okay," he said, rolling onto his side. He knew this was bullshit, but wanted to give her enough rope to hang herself.

Later that day, Jake came to visit Rhamn at his office. He knocked on the door and entered before Rhamn could respond. Rhamn looked up to see Jake's perpetual smirk.

"What can I do for you Mr. Hamilton," he asked.

"I just wanted to drop by and apologize for monopolizing your wife's time," he said. "I'm sure you may have heard the rumors, and I just wanted to reassure you nothing inappropriate is going on."

"I don't put much stock in rumors, Mr. Hamilton," Rhamn said. "I deal in facts and evidence. And I certainly hope for your sake there is nothing inappropriate happening." Jake's smirk wavered for a moment. This wasn't the response he expected. In his experience, academic types tended to be wimps.

But there was something about this man that unnerved Jake. Maybe it was his voice, or the inscrutable manner in which Rhamn regarded him. Nothing about Rhamn said "wimp," and for a moment, Jake considered abandoning his plans for Marion.

"Of course not, Dr. K'luahine," he said. "By the way, did Marion tell you that we'll be in New York this weekend?"

"She did," Rhamn said. He purposefully did not give Jake permission to refer to him by name as he really didn't like the man. "Rather short notice, I must say. I had planned on taking her out Friday night. She's been spending more time with you than with me lately."

"Again, I apologize for that," Jake said. "It's our work. It never ends, you know."

"When do you think I might be able to spend some time with my wife?" Rhamn asked somewhat sarcastically.

"Very soon," Jake said. "We just have some things that need to be taken care of. Look, I have to go now. It's been nice speaking with you." Rhamn said nothing as he watched Jake slither out of the office. After Jake left, he picked up his phone and made another call.

He got a text from his wife that afternoon that she had to work late again to prepare for the weekend "meeting." He wasn't surprised, and the email he received on his personal account didn't surprise him, either. He went home, stopping for dinner on the way. He had had enough of lies and leftovers.

About 8:00 pm, he called Marion on her office number, but the call went to voicemail. He left a message and called Jake's office number. He got the same response but he didn't leave a message. He read and re-read the message he had gotten earlier that day and looked at the photos that were attached. He was still at his computer when Marion came back late that night.

"Are you still up?" she asked, a concerned look on her face. "Did you eat anything?"

"I stopped for dinner on the way home," he said. "I'm tired of leftovers."

"I'm sorry," she said. "We were going over everything one last time for the meeting."

"So you were at your office?" he asked.

"Well, yes," she said. "Where else would I be?"

"You tell me," he said. "I called your office at 8:00, but got no answer. I also called Jake's office."

"We were in the conference room, and didn't hear the phone ring," she said. He knew the layout of her office and knew that was bullshit. Even if that were the case, she should have seen the message light indicating that someone had called.

"Did you not see that I had left a message?" he asked.

"I didn't even look, Rhamn. I'm sorry," she said. "By the way, Jake said you were a bit rude to him earlier today. And what's this about a Friday night date? You never mentioned anything about that to me."