Reluctant Cuckold Read Online Free PDF

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,