My Wife's Christmas Surprise (Cuckolding Shorts Book 5) by Ben Boswell Page B

worst in me. Seeing me pounding drinks every night for a month after the Transcom deal did little to change her mind.
    "You're going to end up in jail or dead because of that man," she warned.
    “You’re exaggerating.”
    “I’m not. He’s Mephistophelian.”
    “So if I’m Faust, does that make you Gretchen?”
    “Perhaps, though I am not sure I’ll be able to intercede on your behalf to save you from damnation.”
    “That’s okay. That was Goethe’s invention anyway. I’ve never considered that plot twist canonical.”
    But the truth is, there was more to that comparison than I liked to admit. If Roger hadn’t tried to pick up Julie’s friend, Karen, at that happy hour, I’d have never had the guts to speak to a girl as unapproachably attractive as my wife. We owe our lifestyle to his wheeling and dealing. We paid for our honeymoon, bought our house, and saved up enough for Julie to plan to quit work so we can start a family thanks to the firm-high bonuses in Roger's divisions. Indeed, all those big plans she has about the future are only plausible because of Roger and the lifestyle that working for him affords. As I argue to Julie, you have to take the good with the bad.
    For the Christmas party, Roger had booked out a nightclub and we had a crazy spread. Champagne tower, cigar room, and a surf and turf buffet with three pound lobsters as decoration. The wait staff welcomed everyone with a double Martini, getting things off to a raucous start.
    Roger arrived late, making a big entrance. He was flying solo as usual, though these events often ended up with him taking a some unattached young woman (or two one year) home for an "after party." Roger is no more concerned with human resources regulations than he is with SEC rules.
    He was wearing a tailored black suit, cut perhaps a little too tight for my tastes, but he did make a pretty dashing figure. He ran up on stage, gave a few quick words of congratulations, wished everyone a merry Christmas, and then hoisted a glass for a quick toast, "you worked hard, now let's party hard!" With that the band came out and got the place jumping.
    He hopped off the stage and made bee-line for me. He had a manic look in his eye. Cocaine? It wouldn’t be the first time, though in truth he often had a natural high going on. Is there such thing as a glandular disorder that causes excess production of adrenaline and testosterone? He clapped me painfully on the shoulder.
    “Jackie, old boy, having fun?”
    “Always, Rog.”
    He laughed. “Good, good, man. This year is as much on you as me.”
    I felt my heart skip a beat. I didn’t really want to be held responsible. I clutched tighter at my glass.
    I forced a smile. “Hopefully we won’t end up in jail.”
    He seemed shocked. “Do you really believe that?” His voice was tight, barely controlled.
    I shrank from his intensity. “Hehe. No. Just being a Nervous Nellie.”
    He hesitated, his eyes still boring into me. Then he smiled.  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. He pulled me close and placed it in my inside pocket.  It was heavy.
    “What’s that?” I asked.
    “Just a little token of my appreciation.”
    From the bulk, it was surely five figures worth of appreciation. Problem is, I’d already gotten a bonus in my paycheck.
    “Where did it come from?”
    He shrugged. “Just between you and me. Off the books.”
    “I can’t.”
    He laughed. “Sure you can, you big pussy. Buy Jules something nice. Or hell, go to Vegas and spend it on some world class blowjobs if she doesn’t already provide those.”
    I opened my mouth to protest, but he gave me another painful shoulder squeeze and then disappeared back into the crowd.
    “What was that all about?”
    I turned to see Julie.
    “Just Roger being Roger.”
    She rolled her eyes.
    “Well, he does throw a good party,” she admitted. “Even if he is insane.”
     

THREE
     
    We did have a great time. Even Julie who usually hates