Reluctant Cuckold (4 page)

And then there was the sheer audaciousness of that comment. She could simply have asked, “Which of us do you want?” Or, even “Do you want to have sex with one of us?” But that was too subtle.

Instead Tamara had to go with “fuck.” Saying it to a guy who had been stroking himself, looking at the both of them.

Why would Ashley go along with such a thing? Wasn’t that the moment when she should have pulled the ripcord and left? Ashley wasn’t easily peer pressured—not even by Tamara.

I thought back to my knock on the door. Was Ashley already fucking him, or had Ashley heard my voice, known I was outside, and still went on to fuck him?

Good God, I thought, it’s 4 a.m.

I took a walk in Bryant Park the following day.

I couldn’t get past my growing belief that the story Craig had told me was true. But I needed to mentally step back from wondering about the minutia of that night.

I wasn’t the first husband in the world to learn his wife had cheated. Quite the contrary, it was an age-old story. Hell, I even had a friend who had experienced this.

Two years ago, my friend Greg learned his wife was having an affair with her boss.
What a kick in the balls that must have been at the time
, I thought.

He had told me he thought about divorcing her. Then they went to counseling. He didn’t talk much about it after a while. But eventually they reconciled. As far as I could tell, things were very good with them now.

I remembered his friends questioning his decision to take her back. Hell, admittedly I was one of them. Some guys were pretty harsh about it, telling him to “dump that bitch.”

But apparently he thought their marriage was worth saving. None of us were in his shoes.

I compared my situation to his. Mine was different. His wife was having a full-blown affair that she had hidden for six months, maybe even a year.

With Ashley, it was a one-night, completely out-of-nowhere event. And if Tamara hadn’t propelled it forward, it would probably never have happened.

Still, the fact that it did, or
probably
did happen, meant something.

I could only mentally whitewash so much.

I thought of calling my older brother. But I knew what Sean would say. He’d be clearly on the “dump that bitch” side of the fence.

It’s all black and white with him. I could imagine him saying, “She cheated, that’s it, toss all her stuff onto the street and change the locks tonight.”

I imagined my friends giving me a similar response.

And that would be after just hearing she’d cheated. If they knew it was at a party I was at, where I had even knocked on the door, I’d be hearing the “dump that bitch now” refrain in unison.

But I knew in my heart that not losing Ashley was my number-one priority. I loved her too much and had invested too much.

And none of my friends or family knew what had happened.

Yes, Craig did, but he wasn’t part of my regular social circle. So long as I didn’t talk about it, it would remain a secret.

Whatever issues this had exposed, Ashley and I could work through them in private. There was no way I going to just throw our marriage away now.

I was going to become more engaged. When she talked about work or friends or what was going on in her life, I wasn’t going to be half-there, distracted or dismissive. She was going to have my full attention.

Ashley was still at the gym when I arrived home from stopping off at the supermarket.

I had uncorked a bottle of wine and was cooking a pasta dish.

I’m not much of a chef, but my mom taught me the basics growing up. I have about a dozen meals I’m confident about, and this was a particular favorite with Ashley.

She walked in saying, “mmm, something smells good —yum!”

When she came out of the shower, I had dinner on the table and we toasted each other.

We talked freely, as if everything was fine. I discussed work politics I was negotiating through, and my parents’ recent trip to Australia. She mentioned a Lennon documentary about John and Yoko’s time living in the city.

We polished off the first bottle and broke into the second.

“There’s something else,” I told her, pulling out a Netflix envelope. “Your movie arrived a few days early.”

Ashley widened her eyes, affecting a child’s expression, and said “Yay!”

It was a children’s Disney-type movie that had gotten four star reviews. She had wanted to take her eight-year-old cousin to it the last time she was in town. But something had happened. Either they had gotten the times wrong or she or her cousin didn’t want the 3-D version.

She would normally watch something like that on her laptop using her ear buds. But I surprised her by offering to watch it on TV with her.

So she grabbed a small blanket and lay beside me. It wasn’t even half over when Ashley fell asleep on my shoulder.

Stroking her hair, I lowered the TV sound and thought of the first time I’d met her, five summers ago, at a Columbia alumni party at an Upper West Side bar. Five blocks from where we now lived.

She wore a stylish, black, cocktail-type dress, and she captured my eye the moment I spotted her.

She was a classic, dark-haired beauty. I was struck by her excellent posture and the grace and ease of her movements.

Her smile was warm and girl-next-door American. Her slightly Asian looking eyes gave her an exotic quality. Her legs were thin and tanned. And her breasts, though revealing almost no cleavage, stood out magnificently in that dress—full, firm and natural.

I’d always been drawn to big breasts. And thin, tight, compact brunettes. In my early teens, I watched reruns of
Dallas
and lusted over Victoria Principal. Ashley reminded me of her.

At 5’4” and barely one hundred pounds, I found her unbelievably hot. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I was determined to at least introduce myself. I asked my few friends there, but no one knew her. One said she looked like she was still a freshman.

Finally I walked over and asked the three girls in her group how they were doing. I didn’t claim to have organized the event, but I tried to create the impression that I was important—a significant alumnus.

I asked their graduation class and surmised they were around twenty-five.

I mentioned that I worked at a hedge fund in midtown, propped up my position there, but that was a conversational bust.

So I went from boasting to humility.

“You know,” I said, “I nearly dropped out after my first month.” They all gave me a look that invited me to continue talking and explaining myself. “Well,” I began, “I had broken my arm just before and arrived a week late. Cliques had already formed. My roommate was a football player who was never around. “But mostly,” I continued, “my econ professor asked me after class why the school would admit a dunce like me. Told me I would be lucky to last past the semester. For the first time in my life, I started thinking I was dumb. You know, where you’ve been told you’re smart throughout high school, and then there you are in New York City. It can be a cold and lonely place when you’re a seventeen–year-old kid on his own for the first time.”

“I know what you mean,” Ashley said, stepping conversationally forward. “I had never experienced city life. It took a long time for Manhattan to grow on me. I didn’t grow up on Zuckerman’s farm or anything, but the pace and crowds and noise had me mega-homesick. And I’d studied piano since I was six. I planned to major in music. I thought I could go professional. But when you’re not in that top one-half of one percent, all you get is rejection for anything serious.”

“Zuckerman’s Farm?” I asked.

“It’s nothing, just a silly reference from
Charlotte’s Web
.”

Soon we were talking one-on-one and I couldn’t believe it when she said she was single and agreed to a first date.

It became coincidental that she would refer to that book. I later introduced her to a friend when we were first dating who told me, “Ashley has such a soothing voice. I would love for her to read me
Charlotte’s
Web,
and just before drifting off to sleep, I’d blow a load in her face.”

I wasn’t offended, I laughed. I had no idea the relationship would continue. I told him he lived in a fantasy world but agreed that Ashley spoke in a uniquely calming way.

As for my first actual date with Ashley, I was mighty nervous, and impressing her was the priority.

It was an August evening, and I was in my work suit, taking a cab down to Tribeca Grill. Ashley was working in that neighborhood at the time. I had never been to the restaurant, but it had gotten high marks on Zagat’s.

As I shut the cab door, I checked my pants, the breast pockets of my jacket and then my back pockets. I suddenly realized I had left my wallet in the backseat of the cab. I waved frantically, trying to get the cabbie’s attention in his rearview as I watched the cab speed uptown.

I’d never lost my wallet before. I always check the seats when leaving a cab. But I had been distracted with a work call.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. I had no money, not even a couple bucks for coffee. I was going to make a terrible first impression.

I called my parents. My driver’s license still listed their address. My dad told me to start canceling credit cards. But I was already late.

I spotted Ashley waiting for me outside. She looked angelic and curvy in her fitted business suit.

I greeted her as normally as possible, giving her a hug. Then I said, “This is going to sound really strange, but my wallet is in the backseat of a cab, probably at Times Square by now.”

She looked at me puzzled, and I added, “I just lost my wallet. I left it in the cab. My money, all my credit cards are in it.”

At first she regarded me as if my excuse were of the “dog ate my homework” variety, but my expression of sincere angst soon convinced her otherwise.

“It’s OK” she said, “I can get it.”

It was a huge gesture and I was so grateful for the offer. But Tribeca Grill was five-dollar-signs expensive, and I suspected she wasn’t making much money. Besides, I didn’t want her paying.

“How about we just grab a drink somewhere, so I can figure out what to do?”

As we walked, I told her about a surfer-type friend of mine from California. How he would always talk about karma. I wasn’t much a believer myself. “But” I said, “I found a wallet once before, in a cab actually, and I called the girl when I got into work. She came and picked it up. It had over 200 bucks, and that’s how I gave it to her. Where’s this thing called karma now, when I need it?”

Ashley bought me a beer and herself a glass of wine. I was trying hard to make small talk, despite being distracted.

When my cell rang, and I didn’t recognize the number, I quickly picked up and heard, “Hi, is this David Martens?”

“You found my wallet?” I asked.

He had indeed! He’d called information and gotten my number from my parents.

“Thank you so much man, you don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

I asked where I could meet him. He told me he was going to a movie at the Angelica. I told him I’d meet him there. He asked where I was. I asked the bartender for the name and location of the place we were at.

“Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll just bike down on my way there.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, “I can meet you anywhere.”

“No, I’ll just bike down there.”

I couldn’t believe it. Incredible relief rushed over me. The whole mood of the evening had suddenly changed.

I could talk to Ashley now, in high spirits, undistracted.

A half hour later, this guy walked in.

“Are you David?”

I got up and gave him a hug.

He handed me my wallet and I reached for a twenty, but he waved me off.

“Please,” I said, “just for your time and effort. You biked all the way down here. C’mon, you did me such a freaking solid, please man, I’d really appreciate you taking this.”

Finally he said, “OK, I’ll donate it to charity.”

I sat back down with Ashley and told her about the encounter.

“What an incredibly nice guy,” I said. “I feel like writing a letter to the
Post
. New Yorkers get this reputation of being uncaring a-holes, and you get jaded about human nature at times, but there really are good people out there. And you know,” I added, “I bet you that guy really is going to donate it to charity.”

I was ecstatic. I could treat Ashley to a proper dinner. Our date had turned from disaster to magical and auspicious.