Bed and Breakfast

[:::: Authors Note ::::]

I've been a little burnt out over the past few months thanks to some real-life challenges in my businesses. At certain points, I've almost felt like a character in one of my stories, a couple of situations where the abuse hurled at me kind of broke me a little. It's meant that I have not had the energy to finish a number of stories I have been working on, and for those of you who have been sending me private messages and email's thank you for your concern, it has been appreciated. I am working with editors to finish about four stories, and I have drafts on another three pretty much done, so hopefully, there will be a few new stories from me soon.

Overall, there is not much new and different about this tale. I'm not trying to break any new emotional barriers. The drama in this story is perhaps a little more muted than what you may have been used to from me in my stories.

I outlined the plot for this story and wrote the draft almost two years ago as I began drafting words that I thought I might like to publish. As such, some of the story is not as developed as I see the newer tales I write. I have updated a few sections but have chosen largely to leave it as is.

I would also be remiss if I did not thank my editors, Mike and Larry. All us authors love to tell a story, but it's the editors that spend their time polishing what we write that make it shine. Thank you, gentlemen.

I hope you enjoy 'Bed and Breakfast.'

[:::: Bed and Breakfast ::::]

I'll be honest. I don't have too much of an idea about how the final scene in my marriage played out. At the time when Candice got home from her conference, I was thirty-thousand feet in the air. I would like to imagine that she walked in the door yelling out a greeting she was home, followed by how much she missed me, and lastly, she was glad to be home.

I bet she was hoping that I would be waiting with dinner on the table like I usually did. I want to think that she frowned when she walked into the kitchen and found the full-colour printout of her less than forty-eight hours earlier, getting fucked by my boss, her boss, one of my close friends and to throw a real kicker in the mix, my lawyer.

As she looked underneath the printout, I'm sure she became upset at the divorce papers staring back at her, the copy of the pre-nuptial agreement and a thirty-day eviction notice.

I would like to think that she was upset and inconsolable, but honestly, I have no idea.

But then again, a little over a month ago, I had no idea my wife was a cheating skank, and my employer, her employer and even my friends were enjoying the pleasures of my wife that were supposed to be mine and mine alone as laid out in our wedding vows.

My name is Thomas Other, twenty-seven years old, and I was the sole heir to a seventy-million-dollar trust left by my grandparents when I turned thirty-two; that was the motivation behind all the shit I was in. Until then, I came of age. I got a payment of eight thousand a month which was part of the interest the fund generated each month. I also got rental incomes from several investment properties around the country and my own luxurious penthouse apartment with zero debt. But I wasn't a lazy trust fund baby. By day I worked as an accountant for Saymen and Zacks, a high-end accounting firm based in Melbourne, Australia.

By now, you're guessing that I had grown up on the good side of the tracks, and you would certainly be correct. However, my parents had always taught me never to look down on someone who didn't have the background we did. I was an only child and had lost both my parents and grandparents simultaneously. They were aboard a private plane that went down over Europe while they were on holiday when I was twenty-one. I was supposed to be on that trip, but I had university exams, so I became the sole surviving heir to the family fortune.

It wasn't that much of a secret that I was heir to the huge trust, but I never flaunted it. My parents had bought me a beautiful penthouse apartment near the university, which also ended up being a close walk to Saymen and Zacks when I graduated, so I had been situated very nicely for a number of years with no real complaints.

In coming back to my traitorous slut of a wife. I met Candice one evening when a couple of friends and I were out on the town. Candice was with a few girlfriends doing the same thing. We danced, I bought a few rounds of drinks, and she wound up back at my apartment in bed with me when we figured, following the drunken haze, that we liked each other. In what has become a twist of irony, Candice was out that night supporting one of her girlfriends who had found out her boyfriend was cheating on her.

Over the next few months, Candice and I met up several times, each time ending with us fucking up a storm in bed. It was a foregone conclusion when we decided to become exclusive. I truly believe that in those early days, the fact that I had money never really bothered Candice. Until recently, I always thought that she was level-headed. Candice worked at a top-tier marketing firm in the city, making a decent wage herself. Looking back, I thought we had a great married life. As a young couple of means, we rarely ate at home. Tuesdays and Thursdays were gym evenings for both of us and Saturday nights were party nights out on the town, enjoying fine dining, dancing at clubs, or laughing ourselves silly at one of the local comedy clubs.

I cringed with what I now knew when I thought back on asking her to marry me. Of course, she said yes, and at the time, I thought I was the luckiest man alive. In the looks department, Candice was what most men would think is fairly average. She had mousy brown hair and was perhaps a little heavier than she wanted to be. But she had a great pair of tits, D-cups with big nipples, and she loved sex in all its varieties. Missionary, cowboy, doggy, anal, and even some water sports now and then when the mood was right. She loved to suck my cock and always swallowed. We made our own home movies, and after a few drinks, we would often retire to the bedroom and watch a couple while I fucked my woman with all I had, and she moaned through orgasm after orgasm.

We had been married for two years and were starting to talk about a family when in retrospect, it all started falling apart. Every few months, Candice would have to travel for work, a conference or some other reason. At first, I never gave it any thought. I mean, we never have cause to doubt the ones we love, do we? In the bedroom, nothing changed overly much. We still fucked like bunnies and sure, I missed her when she was gone. But I always knew when she came home, I would receive a whole lot of makeup sex. More than once, while my wife was travelling, I relieved the tension by watching one of our home movies, but I never thought of the shit show coming my way until one day it did.

My manager and partner in the firm I worked for, George Saymen, had just announced that he had to travel for three weeks. It happened now and then, but the duration of three weeks caught my attention. Candice, this morning also told me she had a three-week conference to attend next week as well. Of course, being a clueless husband, I thought it more idle curiosity than anything else. But it was one of our interns, a twenty-two-year-old blonde bombshell, Iona from Germany, that clued me in.

"Hey Thomas," Iona said, drifting into my office after George's announcement. "You got a minute?"

"Sure Iona, give me a second," I told her just saving a spreadsheet I was working on for one of our enterprise clients. I turned back to her and studied her for a moment.

Iona Braun was quite short but cute in the extreme. She had long golden hair down to her waist, big expressive blue eyes and the petiteness of a princess. She always wore conservative clothing but in a very professional manner that always told her out to be serious about her job. She was finishing up with us at the end of next week and moving up north as she toured Australia for the next year before heading to Germany for another year to meet extended family. I had shared a few coffees with her during the three months she had been with us. I found her to be honest to a fault, never letting anyone do the wrong thing.

One time one of the junior accountants was under pressure to get a job done, so they tried to cut a few corners. Even though Iona was only an intern, she called it out, and the accountant had to eat crow for a month. So, as I looked at Iona, seeing the solemn expression on her endearing face, I frowned, knowing the topic was going to be sombre.

"What's up Iona? You look serious, is everything all right?" I asked.

She hesitated for a second, looking over her shoulder out of the office at everyone. Then she frowned at something before looking back at me.

"Thomas," Iona said very seriously. "I need to talk to you about something, but not here. Would you take me for lunch today?"

Caught out by what this might be, I became curious.

"Not a problem. Make Your Own sound good to you?" I asked, referring to a make-your-own sandwich shop that was quite popular. You could create a sandwich, wrap or salad with whatever you wanted for a few dollars.

She nodded, "Yes, but the one up on George on the other side of William St. please."

I must admit I was curious but thought nothing heading so far from the office until we sat down with our food and she reached out and put a hand on my arm. I looked at her raising an eyebrow. I would never have thought Iona would hit on me, and she knew there was no way I would cheat on Candice.

Seeing my eyebrow raised, Iona quickly withdrew her hand blushing.

"Sorry Thomas," she said in her sweet high-tone. She had just a tinge of the German accent. "It's just I know what I have to say is going to be very hard for you to hear. I didn't think, forgive me."

I felt my stomach lurch. I wasn't sure what this was about, but suddenly knew it was going to be trouble for me. I had only been given the look Iona was wearing once in my life. That was when my grandparents and parents didn't return from overseas.

I swallowed.

"It's all right Iona," I replied with mock confidence, my lunch now forgotten on the table in front of me. "But I have to admit you have me worried. What's this about?"

Over the next twenty minutes, Iona relayed to me how she overheard George Saymen talking last week to someone about how he was looking forward to fucking 'everyone' in two weeks' time. Iona blushed as she told me he got very descriptive and agreed to meet the group labelled everyone for a coffee to coordinate their upcoming debauchery that evening.

She then blew me away as she told me she quietly followed him, taking photos of George and other men embracing and kissing a mystery woman. Turning her phone with a pained expression on her face, Iona showed me the photo where it turned out the woman turned out to be my wife, Candice.

I just about lost my half-eaten lunch, and over the next few minutes, Iona told me how sorry she was. The only reason she knew who the woman was, was because of the photo on my desk of Candice and me holding each other on our wedding day.

To say I was devastated was an understatement. I must have sat there almost comatose for a few minutes before Iona reached out and touched my arm again.

"Thomas?" she said softly, "Can you hear me?"

I snorted.

"Yeah, sorry Iona, thanks for not asking if I am all right; I'm not," I replied, then I sighed heaving my shoulders expressively. "I guess I need to call my lawyer."

Iona frowned.

"I wouldn't," she said.

I looked at her, "Um why? In a divorce you always need a lawyer. Why wouldn't I start with him?"

Iona fiddled with her phone for a minute and, turning it showing me another photo of the 'everyone' group. "Because your lawyer is going with Mr Saymen and your wife next week. I overheard them, there are five of them. I'm sorry Thomas."

I groaned, sitting back in my chair. I felt my chest get tight; a sense of panic grew that I was struggling to keep locked away. I looked at Iona.

"Why?" I asked the question, though I knew she couldn't answer the question.

"For what I understand, it's because of money," she said.

"Money?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," she told me, not quite sure how to tell me these soul-destroying facts. "I don't know what they mean by that, but they mentioned something about making sure the money stays where it belongs and that this was their way of making that happen."

You know those moments where you have a lightbulb go on, or you have a 'What The Fuck' thought. Well, I had both at the same time.

"Iona, I need to throw up," I said suddenly.

She nodded, "I understand."

I shook my head, my jaw now set with determination despite a raging war of emotions playing under the surface. "No, I mean I need to make myself puke and send you back to the office telling everyone I'm unwell. Ensure that Mary calls Candice and tells her I'm sick. Tell her I am heading to the doctor and will figure out something after the visit."

Mary was our office manager and acted as an assistant for us accountants.

I stood suddenly; Iona stood with me.

"Iona, I can't thank you enough for what you have done," I told her, giving her a tight smile. "I could have been pushed into what I believe may be an unwinnable situation if you hadn't told me. Are you okay to tell this story to Mary? Can you keep this between us?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Iona nodded her head swearing quietly in German. "Of course. I'm sorry, Thomas, I hope you don't hold it against me."

I smiled and stuck out my hand, "No, just the opposite. I owe you big time. If at any time in the future you need a favour, call me. You have made a friend for life today."

She smiled back and we shook and then departed our separate ways.

I went into a public bathroom and tickled my tonsils, forcing myself to throw up. If I was going to act, I would make it realistic. I called my doctor, but then at the last minute, hung up while I was on hold. I wasn't sure who was in on this plot. I called another doctor's surgery and made the next appointment.

I caught an uber to the doctor and was shown in after only five minutes past the scheduled appointment. The doctor, an Indian lady in her late forties, looked at me and told me I likely had a stomach bug, prescribed me some mild antibiotics writing me a prescription and a three-day sick note.

Walking out the doors of the surgery, I decided I needed to make some moves. I got an uber to a little bed and breakfast I always wanted to stay at on the outskirts of the city. It was about a fifteen-minute walk from home, so I never needed to use it, but today it would suit my purposes. I walked in the door and checked in. A few minutes after I lay down on the bed in my room, my phone rang. It was Candice.

"Are you all right baby?" she asked with a note of concern in her voice. "Mary called and let me know you're not feeling well."

"Yeah, all good," I replied, playing it down like I usually would when I was sick." I just got out of the doctor, and she told me I likely have a bad stomach bug. I've checked myself into a place for a few days, so I don't give it to you before you head to your conference."

I could feel her frown over the phone, and she hesitated briefly.

"I understand. Is there anything I can bring you?" I was surprised, for a woman that was sleeping with my boss and who knows who else she was showing a large degree of concern.

I thought for a moment.

"Yeah, would you be able to bring me a couple of sets of clothes and my toiletries? If I'm stuck here for a few days, I might as well be comfortable. You can drop it off at reception, and they can leave it outside my door. I told them I wasn't feeling well, so they're bringing me some chicken soup for dinner."

"Aww baby," Candice cooed, "I wish I weren't going away so I could look after you."

I faked a cough, "It's all right, Candice. I'll be better in a few days."

We spoke for a few more minutes, and I would never have believed something was wrong if Iona hadn't shown me the picture of Candice and George in an embrace. As we hung up, I wondered if there was another explanation.

I had my laptop on me in my satchel, so I pulled it out, connected to the BnB Wi-Fi and searched for private investigators. I spoke to three different agencies until I found someone willing to meet me in the morning. I also called a new law firm, Bradman, Torrens and Clarke. I knew they were my lawyer's main competitor and set an appointment for two hours after I met with the investigator.

That night I tossed and turned, sleeping for half an hour and then waking up to toss and turn again. I drifted off again when Candice rang, checking in on me and ensuring I got the clothes. She sounded concerned, and again I wondered if she really was stepping out on me. Iona wouldn't lie; the pictures she showed me certainly didn't. But I wondered if perhaps she had a doppelgänger that George Saymen was sleeping with.

In the morning, I let the BnB reception know I was heading out and would be back later today. I let them assume that I was heading for a medical appointment in case my wife called, and caught an uber across town to the private investigators firm, Discreet Investigators. Inside I didn't have to wait long until a very unassuming man came out and ushered me into a quiet office.

I was surprised when he swept me for electronic bugs, and satisfied no one was listening. He had me tell my tale. The guy, Norm was the name he gave me, nodded as I told him what Iona had shared with me, showed him the pictures, and then asked what I wanted.

"Mr Other, we have a number of different services we can offer, but can you tell me what you need?" Norm asked.

I thought for a moment.

"I'd like both my wife and my boss followed, pictures, video, and anything else you think is relevant. If something is going on, I want to make sure I know what it is before I take action." I hesitated, and Norm picked up on it immediately.

"And?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I eyed the guy and decided to go for broke. "Look, I'm not sure I know what's going on, but my source tells me money is mentioned between my wife and boss. I stand to inherit a large trust fund in a few years, and I can't help but speculate if it's related to this. What I need to know is can I trust you if you know there is a decent amount of money involved?"

Norm looked back at me for a moment, then smiled, "Give me a moment Mr Other."

He stepped out and came back a few minutes later with a pile of forms.

"I think we can help you get everything you want, Mr Other; these forms are our privacy and financial forms. It lays out our rates and our legal terms." I scanned the documents noting that they used the same lawyers I was about to visit.

I signed the forms, and we shook hands. Norm told me he would have people on both Candice and George by the end of the day. I let him know I would cover all expenses, including travel as required and headed for my next appointment with the crowd that could be my new lawyers.

Randwick Johnstone had been our family lawyer for years. His grandfather had worked with my grandparents and my parents when the trust was setup. Due to being in the family when his grandfather retired, Randwick, or Randy as we called him, took over. In the years since my family's death, I never had any reason to doubt the man's integrity. I knew it was a bit of a feather in his cap to handle my account. In fact, I have been a reference for him several times over the years, and as such, he had a small practice with several people in the firm. However, with yesterday's revelations, I was not going to wait for the mountain to fall on me. I was going to trigger the avalanche myself and hopefully not get caught in the destruction.