This story was related to me by the main character, who shall be known as Roger Wilkinson. It was recorded by me in personal conversation with him over a period of six hours in four sessions, and when I set about writing it, I felt it best to put it in dialogue form because that was how he presented it to me. I offered the outline, drafts and now the finished product to him for his endorsation. He is satisfied that, if not literal, it is an accurate reflection of the past few months in his life. Naturally, all names have been changed to protect the innocent [or guilty], as the case may be.
Lieutenant-Colonel Roger Wilkinson, OBE, Ret. was sitting at his desk in his London office when his secretary informed him that his ten o'clock appointment had arrived. Roger glanced at the clock on the wall and noted that it was ten past ten. He frowned, not being one to easily countenance tardiness.
The middle-aged man who entered his office was tall, with blonde wavy hair, blue eyes, and a slightly puffy look about him. Roger stood and shook the offered hand of his visitor.
"Good morning, Mr. Wilkinson, or should I call you Colonel Wilkinson?" he asked politely.
"Either will be fine," Roger replied. "And you are Mr. Charlton?"
"Yes, Marcus Charlton," he replied somewhat nervously, Roger thought.
"Please, sit. And what can I do for you today, Mr. Charlton?"
"Ah ... well ... you see ... it's like this. I'm a good friend of your wife, Winnie, a very good friend. I thought it only fair to ... bring you up to date on things ... as it were." He had come to a sudden stop as Roger rose from his chair and towered above him. During his entire Army career, Roger Wilkinson had been taught to control his emotions, think logically, act only when necessary, and make sure of the result. The brief, stumbling statement from the man across the desk would put all of that training to the test this morning.
Roger stood stock still, saying nothing, examining his guest carefully before once again sitting.
"Do you mind telling me just why you have come here this morning?" Roger said with as calm a voice as he could manage.
"Why, we ... I ... thought you should know. I mean, it's not as if you hadn't already granted permission. After all, your marital ... arrangement makes that rather clear, doesn't it?" Charlton asked, clearly not sure of his footing at this point.
"My marital agreement is very specific, Mr. Charlton. Winifred knows full well the terms of that agreement, and I can assure you that it does not include her taking a man as her lover." His statement grew with a rising voice and a steely, unflinching stare at the almost cowering figure across his desk.
"Uh ... perhaps we should discuss this at another time, then... ?" Charlton rose, backed away from the desk, turned and quickly left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
Roger slumped down in his chair. Elbows on the desktop, his head buried in his hands, he tried to come to terms with the brief, but explosive meeting that had just terminated. His mind drifted back to his beginnings with Winnie, or Winifred Burgess, as he then knew her.
He had just entered his last year before retirement, and at the rank of Lt. Colonel, he would have a substantial superannuation, and a comfortable lifestyle. His club membership was a lifetime benefit resulting from his OBE, and life, at age forty-three, should be quite pleasant. There was just one problem -- he had no one to share it with.
He met Winifred at a party hosted by a mutual friend, now retired from the service, and Roger, ever the conversationalist, found her a lively and attractive companion. She hinted at a ribald sense of humour, and was almost openly flirting with him. He was entranced, and he decided then that he would pursue Winifred Burgess. She was irresistible. Roger called her the next day, and she agreed to accompany him to the theatre the following evening. Roger carefully selected a light comedy with some sexual overtones in the plot, to confirm his suspicions of her. He was not disappointed.
It took a while, but Roger and Winifred, or Winnie, as she was happy to be known, became intimate after their fifth encounter, a dinner at her flat in London. A bottle of very nice Bordeaux had been shared, and after the dessert, a snifter of brandy. Both of them were now very relaxed in each other's company, and Roger was indeed certain of his feelings toward Winnie.
"Winnie, my dear, you must know that I have very strong feelings for you," he began, "and I sense that you feel that way toward me as well."
"Roger, you are delightful company, but ... I was rather hoping for something more."
"Oh ... well ... just what was that 'something more'?" He had a decidedly perplexed look.
"Roger, I am not so old that I don't enjoy ... intimacy. Do you understand?"
Roger looked at her for a moment before breaking into a smile. "Yes, of course. And I must tell you that I enjoy and celebrate intimacy as well," he grinned.
"Then we have one more thing in common ... do we not?" It was a coy, but unmistakable message.
"Indeed," he said quietly, as he reached for her. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, and she responded immediately. Before he knew it, they were in her bed and he was making love to her with great passion and vigor. At least, he thought he was making love. Winnie, on the other hand, was very vocal and assertive in her bed. It was quite a unique experience for Roger. He was, for the first time, not in command of the situation.
Their affair progressed steadily, with sex the weapon of choice for Winnie. She had captured him and she was well aware that he was smitten. It was only a matter of time before he "popped the question."
"Winifred, I love you with all my heart," Roger professed one afternoon while he was rowing their punt along the Thames. "Will you marry me?"
"My dear Roger, I feel the same for you, as well. However, there is something that you must know about me that I fear may give you second thoughts," she said, timidly.
"I must confess that I am an unusual woman ... someone with unusual needs, and I would be less than honest if I didn't make a clean breast of things."
Roger was very curious, but said nothing as he awaited her revelation.
"You see, I am equally attracted to women as I am to men. I have a female lover, Juliana, and I do love her dearly. Unfortunately, I love you as well. It would be deceitful if I did not tell you about my ... affliction."
Roger was stunned into silence. He had never heard of such a thing. And yet, he wanted to find some way that Winnie would choose him over another, regardless of whether it was man or woman. He was sure he was completely in love with her, and this obstacle was something that had to be overcome at all costs.
The price was high. She would marry him only with the understanding that her female lover would be part of the agreement. Roger nodded his understanding when she made her demand, but chose not to decide immediately. He wanted some time to think it over, which she granted him.
It was an arduous ten days that he spent on his own, trying to come to a decision. He was of an age that opportunities for love came along far less frequently, he thought. He had been single all of his forty-three years, and this was only the second time that he had truly fallen in love. The first had died aborning, and now this. Damnation, he thought, why would she have to have this penchant for women as well?
In the end, he rationalized that she might come to love him more, and see that he was the only one for her. He would go to whatever lengths to make that occur, he vowed. He would agree to her terms, knowing full well that he would do whatever was necessary to become her only lover. On the eleventh day, he drove to Winnie's flat and knocked on her door.
"Hello, Roger," she smiled. "I have been expecting you."
"Ah ... yes ... well, I thought it best we talk about your ... proposal," he said uncertainly.
"Oh? I thought you were the one who had proposed," she laughed.
"Winnie, you know perfectly well what I mean," he said sternly.
"Yes ... of course, I do apologize for making light of it. I know it must be a difficult decision for you, Roger. I am anxious to hear what you have decided." Her tone was noticeably more contrite.
"I ... that is ... it is a highly unusual arrangement. I suppose I want some ... assurances ... that I am the exclusive male and that your ... Juliana ... is the only ... co-habitant," he stumbled.
"Why of course, Roger. I'm not promiscuous. I'm simply attracted to women and men. I wouldn't dream of betraying either you or Juliana," she exclaimed.
Roger was silent for a few moments and Winifred allowed him to compose his thoughts.
"Very well, then. I accept your terms. My offer of marriage stands, providing I am the exclusive male and Juliana is the exclusive female," he stated in a positive tone.
"Wonderful! I am so happy, Roger. We will make a smashing couple, mark my words," she enthused.
And so, that was how Roger became a willing cuckold to Winifred's bizarre demands. As time progressed, he was less confident of the arrangement, and when Marcus Charlton had blurted out his confession of their affair, his worst fears were realized.
.... There is more of this story ...