I'm Gone!

Hope you enjoy this story. First of mine in this category. Comments are welcome. Comments about how to improve my writing are especially welcome!

I'm Gone!

When I slowly came into consciousness, the first sense to overwhelm me was smell. Something smelt putrid! It smelt as if someone had vomited. My mind immediately went back to the time when our kids were young. They'd often crawl into bed with us feeling sick. Many times also, it was too late and they smelt of vomit. "Are you ok Jason?" I mumbled. "Give me a minute and I'll clean you up and get you settled."

Next sense was sight. My eyes shot open and stared straight down to a carpeted floor. It was dark, but a small night light was enough for me to make out the wet gooey stain on the floor next to the bed I was in. That explained the smell! My head was over the side of the bed and I was still fully dressed, sprawled all over the quilt! I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing and smelling. My head was hurting from the constant regular pounding that my heart was inflicting on it. "Where the fuck am I?" I wondered.

That's when my mind woke up. I looked around the room as I gingerly sat up, avoiding the mess on the carpet. The change of horizontal to vertical sent my head spinning and my stomach started to cramp. That dry, then cold sweat followed by pressure behind my chest was enough for me to know that I was about to vomit again. I stumbled around, finding the shower just in time as I emptied my stomach all over the shower cubicle floor. It took me a while to slowly turn on the shower to just sit under the re-energising flow of water, clothes and all. The clothes came off and the water became hotter. I washed and gathered my thoughts. Thankfully, that last purge of my stomach's contents seemed to settle it for a while and I felt more confident that it wasn't about to do it again any time soon. Dry and naked, I wandered around the room, obviously a motel room and quite a good one at that. I found my overnight bag and changed into clean clothes. The wet clothes, I wrung out as best I could and put them into the garbage liner that always travelled with Joan, my wife, whenever we travelled.

"Joan!" I said aloud. "Where the fuck is Joan?"

I remembered. I remembered that we had left home at 7:30 on Saturday night to go to Joan's annual work shindig. Actually, I left home then, alone. I knew that there may be some drinking happening, so I finished the leftovers in the fridge from two nights ago. They tasted slightly off, but I always prided myself in having an iron stomach, and besides, that's all there was to fill my stomach before I added alcohol! Joan had already come to the Marriot to start the drinking and partying before I got here. All of her office staff and work colleagues came together on a bus, straight after work. Her boss, Bill Hemmings, sort of insisted that it would be like that. It had been like that for all of the twenty years that Joan had worked for him. I usually didn't come to these parties, as I had to work late, closing my mechanical business and cleaning up. The couple of times that I did show, early on, it was very clear that I was not very welcome. Bill Hemmings, the CEO/owner of Hemmings and Hemmings, a very successful financial institution was a veritable pain in the arse! He took every opportunity to belittle me, trade workers in general and small businesses which had to come cap-in-hand to get finance to operate their businesses. That was me unfortunately. I had to borrow money from H and H to get my business off the ground when Joan and I first got married. Money I had fully repaid within a year simply because of my hard work and insistence on getting everything right for the customers. That often left me coming home late and with only just enough dollars to keep food on the table. "Pay your debts first!" was the sagely advice my father drummed into me. This was something my wife Joan continually groaned about. "You're always late! We live like paupers! Luckily, I have my job with H and H. At least the kids get some small luxuries!"

I remembered Joan insisting that I come to the party this year. "Even Bill wants you there," she added.

"Great!" I thought. "More of the same bullshit from a rich, arrogant arsehole!" I tried over many years to understand why Bill was such an arsehole towards me. I couldn't remember ever doing or saying anything to him which would bring on that attitude. I am a fairly easy-going guy who takes people as they come. It was this relaxed, sincere demeanour, I think, which endeared the many customers to my business, apart from the excellent mechanical skills, of course. But this thing with Bill had me stumped. I attempted to discuss it with Joan many times over the years, but each time she just stonewalled me, saying things like, "You're such a baby Jack. Don't take everything so personal. I don't have any problems with him and he is a great boss. Before you even suggest it, know that I will never work anywhere else!" End of conversation! Just like that! Luckily, I didn't have to interact with arsehole Bill, or any of the arrogant managers at Joan's work at all. Home discussions didn't include any details of Joan's work at all. A fact that bothered me sometimes, but as long as I didn't have to involve myself with that tribe of self-centred pricks, I was happy. The kids and the everyday routines of a functioning household kept the conversation flow happening around our dinner table.

Talk of my business usually elicited some grunts and head shakes from Joan, but the topic quickly changed to something else. I learnt early on that Joan was just not interested in my business affairs, so I eventually kept them to myself. I kept the fact that my business had attracted that much custom, that I hired two excellent mechanics who had the same work ethic and insistence on quality that I had. I kept the fact that I had profited well over half a million dollars in the last three years. This money I kept in an account in my name only. Joan never asked how much I earned, so I never said, as that is how she obviously wanted it. The money I had, I was going to split between our two children, Jason, now twenty, and Mary, now nineteen. It was going to be one hell of a wedding present for them, if and when they got married! I provided all of the household money for our family. I paid the mortgage, the utilities, the phone plan, the car payments and the food bill. I paid the credit card when due. Joan paid nothing! Well, she did pay for expensive clothes and toys for the kids. She also made sure that the wardrobe she kept was modern. She paid for her gym membership and expensive make-overs. Sometimes I wondered why she bought all of these expensive clothes. I hardly ever saw her in most of them. She only seemed to wear them out to work functions. "I have to look good for the potential clients Jack!" she often informed me.

I looked around the room again, looking for clues about what had happened to me. I don't normally drink to the extent that I pass out. Sure, I get a beer buzz going sometimes, but I always know when to stop. I remembered that Joan and Bill greeted me at the main entrance to the party venue with an exuberance which felt rather odd at the time. I promised myself to be civil and try again to be positive, after all these were Joan's work buddies and her boss. "Jack Wood! Great to see you!" announced Bill. He shook my hand as he said this and with his other arm, steered me towards a group of Joan's colleagues. "These guys will look after you," he continued generously. I hope you don't mind, but Joan and I just have to finish up some last-minute work stuff. We will join you in less than fifteen minutes." Joan gave me a smile and a peck on the cheek. Was that a smirk I saw on Bill's face as he was leaving? I didn't like the way he possessively placed his hand on the small of Joan's back and sidled up to her so that they were touching as they walked away. I was about to follow them and ask Joan what was going on and inform Bill that he was being a bit too familiar with my wife when, almost as a group, the men that I had been saddled with offered me a beer out of nowhere.

"Drink up Jack! Old Bill certainly knows how to put on a party!" They effectively steered me in the opposite direction to Bill and Joan, clapping me on the back and encouraging me to drink up.

That's all I remember of the party.

I noticed the door which adjoins the motel unit beside ours. These are a great idea for families, but why do we have one now? Our kids are long gone from our nest! I remember Joan saying something about it the day before the party. "Come on Jack, the party this years should be fun. I told you that Bill especially wants you to be there this year. He even booked us a room right beside his. It's the Marriot for Christ's sake. Do you know how much a unit costs there?" I carefully went to the door and opened it slowly. This was trespassing into someone else's space. I was very careful to only open it enough to glance into the adjoining room. What I saw made my heart stop! I froze, locked into a horror scenario from which I felt I couldn't escape! There on the king-sized bed was my wife, Joan, naked. The details of that scene will haunt me for the rest of my life! Not only was Joan naked, but she was riding cowgirl on top of her boss! She was also sucking the cock of one of the men who had effectively steered me away from Bill and Joan earlier that evening. Behind her, tweaking her nipples and rubbing her breasts was another one of those men. Joan was encouraging all of them to greater efforts with her moans and mumblings. "Come on guys! We don't have all night! I have to be back with cuckold before he wakes up." They continued with gusto until with a mighty shudder and moan, Joan climaxed. She trembled and moaned like that until Bill shot his load into her well-used pussy. She continued like that until the cock in her mouth spewed forth a long jet of cum straight down her throat. She swallowed this with great show and turned to take care of the man paying attention to her nipples before.

"Your turn now baby!" she cooed. His cock followed the first into her mouth. She sucked and twisted on his cock until it too repeated the performance. This time the cum was slowly dribbled down her chest and over her beasts. She made a great show of massaging this cum into her nipples. "You like this don't you lover? Does it get you going? Are you able to make it number four for tonight? Bill has shot his load three times into my pussy already! That's his normal for one session. Sorry guys, but he's the only one who gets my pussy, ever. For twenty years he has nailed this pussy more times than I can count. He even nailed my ovaries twice. They have names, Jason and Mary!" she paused as she could feel Bill's cock stirring again in her sloppy cunt. "Bill, my love, are YOU going to make it number four? What's got you so up and alive tonight?"

Bill grunted and said the words that were the last straw of the destruction of my marriage. "Just knowing that the weak prick of a man you call your husband is next door, sleeping the drugs off while we are screwing like rabbits right here. It gets me going JoJo." He began his up and down thrusting again, try to find some friction in Joan's swollen cunt. Joan half-closed her eyes as she matched his movements as best she could.

"I meant what I said guys. You need a reward. No pussy, but, my hands, mouth and arse are yours for the taking. I have to reward you for performing the little act with my clueless cuckold of a husband Jack. I hope you didn't over-do the roofie you gave him in his first beer!"

One of the men answered, "We gave him enough to keep him out until ten tomorrow morning. I should know. I have used these particular tablets heaps of times before. They are pretty potent. They won't do any permanent damage to cuckold. He is, after all, a fit and healthy man, well, sort of a man!" This set a fit of giggles from Joan and laughter from the three men in the room.

"Oh, come here you clever man. Just for that, you get to pump my arse full of your cum while Bill here tries to fill my cunt again!"

I crept back into my room. It wasn't our room. I felt clammy and defeated. Was my stomach going to reveal itself again? I sat on the bed until the trembling in my body subsided, to be replaced by anger. Anger like I had never felt before! This was an unfamiliar emotion for me and it frightened me because of its intensity. Anger at Joan for betraying our love which I thought we had. Anger for that arrogant prick, Bill and his deception over all of these years. Anger at the two men who drugged me so that this fuck fest could go on right under my nose. Anger at myself for being deceived for so long. Twenty years! My god, and the kids weren't even mine. There was anger there as well, but I couldn't blame the kids. I took my phone and recorded as much of the porn scene next door as my phone could handle. Luckily, it was one of those new smart phone which compensate for movement while videoing, because my hands trembled so much, I thought I would drop the phone and alert the cheaters next door to my consciousness. I had to go, but I knew that I needed time to do what I had to do. I made it look like I was still in bed, using the extra pillows, etc that the Marriot so kindly provides in each cupboard. I closed the adjoining door and locked it. No noise! A well-maintained doorway! I packed all of my clothes, as well as Joan's bag. The light went off as I left the room. "Ten o'clock, hey?" I thought. By the time they try to get into the room at about that time, and realise that the adjoining door to the room is locked, and then attempt to organise an extra key from reception, I am sure that it would be about noon. High noon as it might turn out to be!

The night receptionist was a little surprised to see me leaving at such a strange time. The place was usually deserted at this time of the night. She roused herself from her surprise and placed her trained smile back onto her face. "Good morning sir. I wasn't expecting any early departures today. Is everything all right?"

I looked at her and also placed a smile on my face. "Perfect thank you. I was in room 2871. I believe Mr Hemmings booked the room, but I will return the keys now." I gave her the key card. As I was leaving, I had a second thought. "Oh, by the way, Mr Hemmings and his wife, Joan, are celebrating a special occasion tomorrow. Is it too late to organise a special breakfast in their room, at say eight? You know, the champagne, etc?"

The receptionist smiled again. Her commission would be better today! "That's not a problem. I will put the charge onto Mr Hemming's account. What's the occasion so that I can include the correct card?" I took some of the hotel paper and pen from the counter and wrote for a while. Handing it to the receptionist, I asked her to place it in an envelope and include it with the breakfast. She sealed it in front of me and I walked out of that hotel. I also walked out of our marriage. As I left that building, I left the tatters of a failed marriage in room 2869.

I wouldn't have much time.

The drive back home was almost surreal. I kept seeing visions of Joan, what I always thought of as my Joan with that arsehole Bill. The realisation that Joan was never my Joan was almost too much to bear. That clammy familiar feeling came back to my stomach and I had real worries of veering off the road and dying in an accident. I had to pull myself together. It was difficult, but I managed by pure luck and will power to arrive home safely. Coffee followed by a large straight bourbon was the first item of business. Coffee to push aside the tiredness, bourbon to curb the seething anger I still felt.

It was early Sunday morning, but I was still able to complete the most important financial aspects of my doomed marriage. Thank goodness for internet business apps. I cancelled our credit cards after transferring enough cash to cover everything. I cancelled our insurance policies, arranging for any refunds to go to my own account. I emailed the bank and informed them that the house payments would no longer be forthcoming and that they have permission to sell the house at their earliest convenience to recover the unpaid mortgage. The house was always in my name only as Joan couldn't be bothered with such details of my business! I am sure she was always worried about the house being repossessed and that she would be lumbered with half the costs! I cancelled the registration on Joan's car and listed it for sale on ebay. A quick sale, at a special discount price if the sale went through before noon today! I cancelled the utility services as of Monday, again any refunds to be deposited into my account. I transferred any cash left in our everyday account into mine. I cancelled the phone accounts as of noon today. That was the financial stuff, at least all I could think of!

None of these would have too much effect on Joan. I knew very well that she had stacks of cash of her own somewhere and beside, arsehole Bill would take care of her needs in the same manner that he had taken care of her pussy all of these years. The next item of business was more personal! But it had to happen after another coffee and large bourbon, along with some dry bread. No more left-overs for me! I realised that it was the left-overs that had saved my bacon, but what lead me to where I was now. The left-overs had caused me to vomit from mild food poisoning while I was out on the bed. That purging of my stomach had also purged me of the drugs that had been given to me. "Rotten food allowed me to see for the first time a rotten marriage," I thought ruefully.

Well, soon there would be no signs of this rotten marriage. I systematically went through the wardrobes, both Joan's and mine. As my stomach was purged, what seemed like ages ago, so I purged every item that had anything to do with us. The middle of the lounge room became a haven for three piles of stuff. Everything joined one of these piles, so that when I had finished, there was not one item on the wall, not one item in any cupboard. One pile was for me to load up into my car. One pile was to be spread out on the front lawn with a 'free to take' poster. One pile was for burning in the back yard. This all took surprisingly little time. As the sun was rising, the front lawn pile was in place. It was met by many a curious early morning jogger and walker, but after encouragement from me and assurances that it was all for real, the pile soon dwindled until there was literally nothing left. A few of these scroungers commented on the smoke coming from the back yard, but I informed them that we were having a large barbecue gathering later that day and that the firepit had to be tested out first!

My car only took an hour to load up, so that by eleven o'clock, I was ready to go. The house was now literally empty! No sign of any occupation existed, except for the lingering smoke from a smouldering heap of belongings in the back yard. Nothing in that pile was recognizable anymore. It was just a small pile of ash and non-combustibles. Just like our marriage! I left all of the doors and windows open not just to purge any smells of occupation, but in the hope that some of the neighbourhood kids would see it as opportunity to 'mark' their territory with spray paint or excrement! I drove away from that house feeling more than a little sated. I left my wedding ring which I had cut in half with bolt cutters hanging in the doorway. Maybe some kid might sample the two pieces, maybe not. I didn't care!

It was Jason and Mary that I worried about. It was now close to noon. High noon! The shit would surely hit the fan at the Marriot soon if hadn't already! Mary, I phoned first. She listened as I retold the events as they unfolded. She didn't interrupt at all, which I thought a little strange at first. At the conclusion of my telling, during which I had to pause a few times to keep my emotions under control, she simply stated, "Oh dad, we knew for years that Uncle Bill was our real father. Mum, Jason and me spent many weekends with Uncle Bill at his mansion. He paid for many of our outings and even pays now for most of our university costs. I am sorry that you had to find out this way. Mum and us were going to tell you when we got married. Please forget about us and move on with your life!" If I hadn't already been sitting down on a park bench to make what I thought would be difficult phone calls, I would have fallen over.