A Civilized Cuckold,The Cunning Cad


"I see," Sid's eyes opened wide, and his right eyebrow lifted in one of his endearing mannerisms indicating that he was taken aback. He was examining each of the photos with great interest as I passed them to him. He swept his hand through his graying hair, to smooth it back from his face — a gesture that poker players call 'a tell', which I recognized as signifying that Sid was ready to fold his hand. I'd won again.

Sid and I negotiated a decent agreement for my departure. I would remain, technically, for three more months, although, I would actually take the last month off to use my accrued holiday. I would receive the 'golden parachute' that was in my employment contract, which would total about a year's salary, with an amount that averaged my annual bonus for the past three years. All told, a tidy sum of about

₤220,000. And of course, letters of recommendation for my excellent performance on behalf of the bank.

I on the other hand promised that I would not give any copies of the photos to the Bank Directors, or Sid's wife. This was quite droll, considering that his wife Caroline was my original source of the photos.

Sid, being a decent sort, inquired of me whether I would find it difficult to find new employment.

"No, no," I explained, "You know the Swiss bank that opened a new office across from the RBS building last year? They've been sniffing around, and I suspect that I should be able to find a suitable position with them." In fact, they had been offering me the moon to come on board.

Sid was somewhat incensed.

"That's rather cheeky of them, isn't it? Trying to hire away staff from colleagues in the industry!"

We had to agree, that the standards of this world were in swift decline.

* * *

Two months later...

I found myself sitting on the verandah of a bungalow, my computer screen in front of me, looking out at the Caribbean. This was one of those out-of-the-way islands, very posh, and limited to a small number of visitors at any given time. The beach in front of me was completely empty.

I was concluding several transactions when I heard the footsteps coming up behind me, and a pair of soft, moist lips gently kissing the back of my neck. Then the sound of Caroline's laughter. Finally the sight of her blue eyes, her 'dirty blond' hair, atop her gorgeous face, and rather spectacular tanned body, as she sat down next to me. I looked again to admire the long, slender legs, her flat stomach, and while not large, proportional breasts. She looked like the natural athlete that she indeed was.

I had just related my conversation with Sid to her over breakfast, and while Caroline tidied up, I had come outside to complete a trade and administer the coup de grace.

"Did you really tell Sid that awful fairy tale — it was pure invention! Complete rubbish!" said Caroline, still laughing. Caroline was dressed for the day in a thong so minimal, that it occurred to me that there really was no point in having it on.

"My dear, what was I supposed to say. 'Sid, hate to tell you this old lad, but your wife and I have known each other since we were eighteen, and have been regularly fucking like minks ever since!'" I glanced in her direction.

Caroline looked back the smile still on her face.

"Or that you've been fucking every bank that you ever worked for?" she added, a twinkle in her eyes.

"That too." I grinned back at her, as I struck the enter key, and sent off my final directions to the banker in Vaduz.

"And you're too hard on Ralph." Caroline told me with a mock-scolding tone, "He tells me he simply adores Merlot, and prefers it even when having fish. He is an independent thinker; and you, Ben, are a snob!"

"Ralph is going to have a very bad quarter, I'm afraid." Playing against a trader when you know his targets, his strategy, and his limits, makes for a one-sided game. The performance of Sid's group was taking quite a hit these days. A zero-sum game, that last trade took ₤35,280, plus change, from Ralph's accounts and put it in mine! A terrible thing really — but I'm incorrigible.

"Anyway," Caroline interjected, returning to the subject, "at least now I know why Sid has been so keen on tying me up and spanking me. You are really very evil, Ben!"

"Isn't that why you adore me? I'm the proverbial 'bad boy'. You married the respectable Sidney Wright, but keep me around for wild, wicked sexual adventure." I turned and leered at her, with what I hoped was a devilish look.

"I am curious about one thing, Ben," she asked, in a more serious tone, "Why did you want me to step up my sexual activities with Sid? You had to know it would cause even a dullard to begin wondering and asking questions?"

"Ah, yes my dear, an excellent point. To tell you the truth, I was bored working there, and wanted a change of scenery. But if I voluntarily left after just three years, the bank wouldn't have paid off my contract. By creating a potential sexual scandal, the bastards at the top were falling over themselves to accommodate me, so long as I left quietly. Plus, pushing me out for 'entertaining' the bosses' wife doesn't reflect poorly on my job performance!" I explained.

"Anyway, it is easier for us to find time together if I'm not working for your husband." That seemed to be to be a most compelling argument, to Caroline, at least.

"Speaking of which: where is Sid, and where are you supposed to be?" I inquired.

"Sid is in Hong Kong for the week, along with your former personal assistant." she explained.

"Ah, the office bicycle." came my immediate reply.

"And I," Caroline continued, ignoring my witty repartee, "am visiting an Aunt in the remote Canadian Rockies." She began walking towards the beach.

"Coming back after a week with a bloody dark tan like that? He'll never believe it!" I called after her.

She turned, "He'll believe what I tell him to!" And with a little pirouette, Caroline dove into the waves.

I sat back in my chair, and took a sip of my mimosa, lit up my morning cigar, and realized that she was probably right — he very likely would believe whatever she told him. Or at least pretend to.

There it was: another reason why I wasn't like Nick Leeson. I wasn't married, so I could play the field without regrets. Married, single, blond, dark, white, black, tall or short — next to finance, my favorite sport, enjoying female companionship, with its many pleasurable benefits.

Caroline was something completely different from the others, though. I'd always adored her, from the first day we met. In fact, it was Sid who was the interloper in our long-term relationship.

I sat up suddenly with a start. I'd never considered it before, but perhaps I was the true cuckold in the relationship, not Sid. I was shocked by the revelation.

Not that I could do anything to change the status quo. Caroline would certainly not leave Sid, with the likelihood of becoming Lady Wright, the luxury flat in London, the weekend retreat to the estate in Kent. No, in truth, all I could hope for was to continue as we had for all of these years. Alas, but what can a fellow do?

At the end of the month when I returned to London, I would start working as the manager of the trading room at the Züricher Canton Bank, Ltd. I had heard that Herr Doktor/Bankdirektor Weise was married to a woman much younger than he, who was widely admired for her beauty.

Which would be more entertaining — taking a small bite of the bank's profits, or seducing Gnädiga Frau Weise? Not that I wouldn't try both.

I glanced back down the beach, where Caroline was waving to me from the waves. I waved back, and started to fantasize about what we might do tonight...

* * *

I have always enjoyed the understated English wit. There are so many modern British writers who come to mind, but P.G. Wodehouse is usually atop the list. His characters are so calm and polite, especially when dealing with disasters; while often going completely over the top when confronted with the trivial. Infidelity? One mustn't over-react, old bean. But don't steal their prize pigs, or their French chefs! I hope I've caught some of that atmosphere in my little story.

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