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Women in the workforce: Wall Street “banker” spends her week canoodling with her married co-worker and obsessing about his wife–but mostly arriving late and leaving work early

February 11, 2020
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Stock photo: Times of India

The Banker Sleeping With Her Married Co-Worker”: This week’s entry in The Cut‘s Sex Diaries (Warning: graphic stuff if you click)


11:30 a.m. We plan to watch a soccer game from a nearby bar before our workout. I’m not an avid soccer fan but knowing that it’s important to him makes me want to be. I find out later that his wife has never gone out to watch a game with him. It makes me hate her even more — she is a constant dimmer on a beautiful ray of light and I can’t stand it….

1:45 p.m. We’re running late to class because we stop to get him some new workout clothes. I’m thrilled to shop with him; I hope he’ll think about me when he puts on the clothes we buy. Anything that will extend my presence in his life. Anything that pulls him toward me and away from her….

6:30 p.m. After having sex, we wrap up the day eating chips and guac naked on my window sill — talking, loving, and watching the sunset. I feel good when I tell him how much I love him. He needs to go back home or else she will start making a fuss. My stomach turns anxiously and I come back to reality; at the end of the day, he is laying his head on a pillow next to her, not me.


5 p.m. The rest of the day is pretty busy for both of us and we aren’t able to see much of each other. I see him pack up and put his jacket on — is he really leaving this early without even telling me? My anxiety doubles when I remind myself he has no obligation to tell me anything. It’s hard to trust something that isn’t fully mine.

11 p.m. I haven’t heard much from him tonight and I chalk it up to an early bedtime, but every doubt in my mind is screaming that he is having sex with her. The thought of him touching her makes me sick.


10:15 a.m. I approach him in the kitchen as I’m making coffee and ask him how his night was. I can tell he’s hiding something so I ask what he did. He stumbles over his words and tells me he watched a movie. The f[—–] definitely had sex with her….

11:45 p.m. I’m a tired, cranky drunk. I want to go home and I’m relieved I only live ten minutes away. He comes home with me, equally intoxicated, and we drunkenly fight about the sex he had with her on Monday. I cry and he consoles me. I realize more and more every day that we can’t continue having an affair if we want to maintain self-respect. We fall asleep and he decides to stay overnight — something he has never done before. He tells his wife he’s sleeping at a friends’ place…


6 p.m. We spend the day in bed, recovering with sex, naps, and food. He has to go back home and I can see on his face that he’s dreading it.

11 p.m. I get a Snapchat notification from R right before bed. He tells me they had a serious conversation about their marriage. He doesn’t want to try to fix it anymore. I tell him to come over tomorrow morning before work so that we can talk about it.


7:45 a.m. I wake up to R softly knocking at my door. My heart jumps and after a big hug, I hurry back to bed. He sits across from me on my couch, which is odd — normally he would jump into bed with me. “I think I need some time apart to think. I don’t want it, but I think I need it,” he says….

5:30 p.m. I come around to getting drinks because I want to talk more. I meet him outside work and we head to a local bar. A glass of wine and a whiskey on the rocks turns into three and we go outside for a smoke break. We have a lot of fun, talking about anything and everything while laughing, touching, smiling in between. We talk about our feelings, how euphoric it feels. He decides he’s going to talk to his mom for some insight. I support him; he needs to tell someone in his life that I exist.

10:30 p.m. He really has to get home. I get anxious when he stays with me too long because it means a fight could ensue between them. I don’t want her to ever get suspicious. A few weeks back she got so mad at him for his constant absence and late nights that she was convinced he had a drug addiction….


8:30 a.m. And just like that, it’s Friday! I’m a native New Yorker, and I have dinner plans with my best friends from high school. We love going out to dinner together — it’s a time when we can connect and stuff our faces while complaining about how tight our jeans are and how swollen our feet feel. I dress for work accordingly in preparation for tonight and head out….

7 p.m. I meet the girls for dinner in Tribeca. Starving and excited to share all the latest about R with them, we order quickly and get to talking. I am grateful that they accept me for whatever is going on in my life, however messy and immoral.


12 p.m.  I have plans to meet up with two of my college friends, V and L, for lunch and am in desperate need of a manicure. I also miss R. We haven’t had sex since Thursday morning and thinking about it turns me on. I walk past my full-length mirror on my way to the bathroom and see my handprint on it. I start thinking about the last time we had had sex there — how hot it was to watch him watching me through the reflection. I remember that he might be having sex with her right now and feel a wave of anxiety wash over me…

Now, dear reader, you might be thinking a variety of thoughts about the above. You might be thinking, for example: What’s the point of having a steamy adulterous affair when all you can think about is the guy’s wife? Or you might be thinking: Gee fun: Sleeping with a married man means you have to spend your weekends going out with your girlfriends. Or that she’s wasting her precious youth with a skunk who clearly has no intention of leaving his wife–and she’s also making a fool of herself in front of the rest of the office.

But here’s what I’m thinking: I want to get a job as a “banker.” Here’s how you spend your work week: Sneaking around the office cafeteria on Monday to canoodle with exciting men and have lovers’ quarrels; leaving work on Tuesday at 5 p.m. on the dot; taking Wednesday off for sex; getting to work way after 9 a.m. on Thursday–and then leaving work at 5:30 p.m. on the dot for booze night out; and then getting to tell the girls all about everything on Friday.

A four-day work week! What a great job to have? Any openings for more “bankers” where this gal works?

Posted by Charlotte Allen

From → Uncategorized

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