Hotel Remote Confrontation

In a story I read recently the author commented that there is love and forgiveness.

There is, but they forgot to mention that, sometimes if the betrayal is deep, whilst there may still be love, there is no forgiveness and there is revenge as well.

This is that story.

This story may not be reproduced in part or whole without the consent of the author.

To meet the requirements for my upcoming promotion I had to go from our head office in Reading to attend a management course in Manchester. I was to become Deputy HR manager. I needed training in those 'difficult discussions'. And this was a two week course I had been booked on for the finer points of human resources management techniques. The HR in my company didn't have a good rap, and in most cases I thought it was deserved. I worked with a bunch of arrogant prats who looked down on the rest of the company as a hindrance to doing business. You know those people that actually made stuff, made a profit and paid our wages. I was hoping to change that. And this course would help. The current deputy manager was being 'moved on' as the head of HR thought that a lot of this poor attitude came from her. Dave Harris Deputy Manager HR had a nice ring to it, and hopefully in a few years drop the Deputy.

We had known about the course for four weeks prior to it starting, it was planned to be two weeks and as the course finished late on the first Friday and an 8:00 start on Monday with the traffic around Birmingham we decided that I would stay over the weekend. I did ask my wife, Carrie if she would come up and see me as she didn't work on a Friday afternoon, she could get Friday morning off and easily drive up to me Friday morning and she may be able to bunk off work Monday. We had done that sort of thing before. She was quite keen when I first mentioned it, but a couple of weeks before I was due to go she told me something had come up at work and she was quite insistent she wouldn't be able to make it.

It was another thing that just wasn't right over the last couple of weeks. We had talked about starting a family, and to be honest had been going at it like rabbits, it was great. We had done the ceremonial flushing of her pills about two weeks before.

But about two weeks before the course started, she seemed to change her mind and seemed to dither a bit. And the sex fell away to almost nothing. I bought it up and I wanted to get a few shots at baby making before I went away, she seemed a bit reluctant. Something wasn't right. She was dithering. Babies are not the sort of thing to dither about. I asked her if she wanted to wait until I was settled in the new job, in which case she had better go back on the pill and I would wear a condom. I wouldn't be happy if that happened.

We had a long chat about it over the weekend and she seemed to change her mind again about babies and decided that it was time to go ahead. The rabbits were back in the house and the garden and the back of the car at lunchtime.

Something was nagging me at the back of my mind, but all my brain power was either working or in my cock.

When we got to the course on Monday, Margery, the course instructor told us we wouldn't be working on Friday as they had some unscheduled emergency maintenance to do on the electrics in the building. They apologised for not telling us earlier, but it had only come up last evening. We would work later during the week to catch up, it wasn't a problem. I had nothing else to do. I thought I would surprise the love of my life and pop home the middle weekend. It was about a four hour drive and if I left at three in the morning I'd probably be home by about seven and hopefully I could convince her to take the morning off, call in sick or something. She would still be in bed when I got home, and we could carry on our baby making activities.

Leaving at that time of the morning I would miss most of the traffic, I knew there were some overnight road work closures planned but I should hit them after the roads reopened.

Driving down the motorway Friday morning I looked back on how we met nine years ago. We had been married for seven. She had been on a hen night in Blackpool. Me and my mates had gone there for a stag night. Most of the lads were hoping to hook up with some girls that were there on a hen night. We were all single, well except the groom to be.

I was best man to my best mate Gerald for his wedding to his fiancé Lisa.

It was my job to make sure that nobody put Gerald, aka Gerry on a train to John o' Groats or some far-flung distant place with no money in his pocket or any other similar antic and to make sure he did not do anything to upset Lisa. That would be the hard bit.

At times I wondered if the wedding would go ahead.

Gerald had been a bit of a ladies' man and sometimes sailed too close to the wind. I think there may have been the odd married lady. Occasionally he would be late or not turn up to something we had planned and give me an excuse about the car breaking down or something similar. But I think it was the ladies. I told him he was playing with fire if he was seeing married women and he might get aggro from an angry husband. He just laughed and said he could run fast. I did suggest he might have to run a long way, as well as fast, he still laughed.

Gerry and I were as different as chalk from cheese. He was the practical and athletic one of us and I was the academic one. He would come to my house and fix things I would do his tax returns and paperwork for him. But we both shared two loves, Cricket and beer. He played cricket. I watched it. He tried to teach me how to play it, I was useless. I couldn't bowl the ball straight. It went everywhere, I couldn't hit the ball. I think it hit the wickets more times than I hit the ball. He told me I had no eye hand coordination. He was probably right. We did manage the odd round of golf, the golf ball wasn't moving. I did walk a lot.

We both found out at an early age that we liked dark British Beer. I remember my hangover after my 17th birthday. We also found some European lagers acceptable. Now that we were older we would often be found on a Sunday afternoon in the local Cricket Club with a lot of other people dissecting the game on telly whilst we drank beer. That was one place Gerry didn't mess around with cricket club members' wives and daughters. I think that was his safe haven.

And Gerry loves his cars, especially big American ones. I sometimes think he used the flash cars to play the field before he met Lisa.

But here we were in Blackpool celebrating his last week of freedom before tying the knot. I managed to make sure Gerry didn't do anything that might jeopardise the wedding. Lisa would not forgive him if he stepped outside the boundary of them as a couple about to get married, if you know what I mean.

His playing around seemed to drop off when he met and proposed to Lisa.

On the stag night I managed to keep Gerry out of trouble, and we had a good time, we drank too much. Well actually I got him so drunk he had to be put to bed before his wandering eye got him into trouble. I kept my intake moderate just to keep an eye on Gerry and the other lads. Mind you I still had a few pints and the odd shot, especially after I got a very drunken groom to his bed. I think some of the guys did hook up.

I got down to breakfast in the small B&B we were staying at. I hadn't been there for many minutes when an attractive young girl came in and was shown to the table next to mine. There were only the two of us at that time of the morning. She looked a little bedraggled, but I would not say that to her. I looked at her and said, "Good night last night?"

"Yeah, you could say that. Hen night." She looked at me. "You?"

"Good enough, stag night. Managed to keep the groom out of trouble. I'm the best man. Did yours go okay?"

"Chief bridesmaid, I think I got most of them to keep their knickers on, well the married ones and the soon to be married one. Not so sure about the single ones but that's up to them. Look instead of talking across the room why don't you come over here and have breakfast with me."

We introduced ourselves and she told me her name was Carrie.

And that's what I did, we discussed the forthcoming nuptials of each couple. We discovered that we both came from the same part of the country. I am from Basingstoke. She was from Andover, well a little village outside Andover called Anna Valley. We discovered a lot of other similarities. The weddings were on the same day, next Saturday. Whereas mine was at ten in the morning and would finish early because I had to drive the happy couple down to Southampton to catch a cruise ship for their honeymoon. Her wedding was at two in the afternoon and the reception was in a nice hotel just outside Andover, she joked about me hooking up with the chief bridesmaid. I told her that the chief bridesmaid was my sister, yeah, so that's not going to happen. I jokingly asked if she planned to hook up with the best man. She told me she couldn't stand him. He was an obnoxious prattling idiot.

After we had a drink of coffee, orange juice and some poached eggs on toast, I started to feel better, and things were picking up. We chatted for quite a while. Then some of our partying compatriots started turning up. Most of them looked a bit rough. Carrie and I were getting on quite well.

I told her about me and Gerry and she told me that she and her bride became best friends in college, she told me that the bride had asked her to be chief bridesmaid as she couldn't trust her friends from her hometown. She knew very little of her bride's family outside her Mum and Dad, who she had met several times.

She said, "In fact I've spoken to you more than I've spoken to most of the other members of her family. Maybe on your way back from Southampton. You could pop in for a drink. You've got to go past us anyway." She admitted that it might keep the 'obnoxious prat' away.

I think her geography of Southern England was a bit amiss. But it was not an offer I was going to turn down. It wouldn't be too far out of my way. Anyway, she was witty, intelligent, made me laugh and she was very pretty. And it might lead to other adventures.

We swapped phone numbers and I said I would think about it, depending on how the traffic was. By then people were starting to turn up and it was obvious some people had hooked up. And a lot of hangovers in both sexes.

That was when Gerry turned up, I looked at him and frowned. He took the hint and stayed away but did give me a thumbs up, obviously thinking I got lucky after I put him to bed.

During the week Carrie and I had a couple of conversations on how the wedding planning was going. Mine was easy, Lisa's mother was doing most of the running around, but Carrie was having a bit of a nightmare.

It appears one of the married ladies, hooked up and the husband had found out. There was all sorts of shit flying around, and she was trying to keep a lid on it just so it didn't upset the wedding. It appears the lady that hooked up was the bride's sister.

"I really could do with seeing a friend next Saturday if you're available." All of a sudden I was a friend, I liked that.

Just before I left Southampton, I sent her a text and told her I would probably be going past Andover at about five o'clock and to give me a call if she still wanted me to pop in. I got an almost instant text reply, but I couldn't take it as I was driving. Then two minutes later my phone rang, it was Carrie. She apologised for sending the text, because as soon as she had done it, she realised I would be driving. And yes, she'd love to see me. She had already asked the bride's mother and she was happy with me popping in. She had to rush off now as she only made the quick phone call while she popped to the loo.

When I got there the formal part of the reception had finished and the party was starting. I quickly found Carrie and she hung on to my arm and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I quickly spotted the obnoxious prat, it wasn't hard. I also saw a couple sitting in the corner, not talking with an air of ice about them. I recognised the woman from the bed and breakfast. I think that was the one who had been naughty in Blackpool. Carrie and I had a little talk about it. I told her I couldn't understand infidelity. If you love somebody you keep yourself just for them. She agreed

I haven't been drinking so just after ten o'clock, I said I had to go so I got home at a reasonable time. Carrie took my hand and said. "I've got a room here." I didn't know what to say but she carried on. "It's a double room and it will have to stay that way." She looked at me thoughtfully and said. "This is a first date." I nodded, hoping she might change her mind, but I was happy to spend time with her. "You can stay and have a beer and we can dance some more." Again, another offer I could not refuse. But from her tone of voice there was obviously going to be no hanky panky tonight. That was alright by me. We hadn't known each other that long. We had a few drinks and danced a lot, she hung on to me in the slow ones. We were almost the last to leave.

We did sleep in separate beds, there was a bit of confusion in the bathroom when we both got dressed for bed. I kept my underpants on, and she kept her bra and knickers on. I had to get into bed quickly when I saw her dressed like that. It would have been embarrassing. Sometime early in the morning I felt Carrie get into bed next to me. We spooned and my hand naturally fell on to her breast. it wasn't intentional it was just, well natural and comfortable. She gently turned over so she was facing me. She kissed me softly on the lips and said. "Not yet." My hand was now on her back. I asked if that was okay. She nodded, smiled and kissed me again and then closed her eyes.

She ignored my raging hard on.

We got some knowing looks at breakfast which we ignored. We arranged to meet the next weekend somewhere between Basingstoke and Andover.

We met at a country pub and had dinner, before I knew it, they were calling last orders it was time to go our separate ways. I suggested next time she come to my place and then after that we could go to hers. This meeting halfway didn't really seem to work. She agreed. But her place first next weekend.

The following Saturday I went down to her little cottage that she was renting, she cooked and after dinner we just sat in front of the fire watching something on the telly it felt so comfortable. Halfway through the evening she slid across and rested on me, it was so natural.

It was quite dark by the time I had to go home, she came out to my car to see me off and we kissed tenderly. I gently stroked her face. She took hold of my hand and moved it from her face down to her breast. It was lovely firm and overflowed my hand to be the perfect size. We had arranged to meet at my place the following week.

When she turned up, she looked stunning. I couldn't believe I was going out with somebody so beautiful, smart and intelligent. I live in a little flat on the outskirts of Basingstoke. I made sure it was completely clean. When she arrived, she was carrying a small bag. It was my turn to cook. I didn't do too bad. I noticed she had more than one glass of wine. I don't have a fire to sit in front of just a telly, that would have to do. We watched a film, I can't remember what it was.

Just after we sat down she slid across to me and said. "Would you mind if I stayed the night?" My heart leapt, but all the indications she had given me was that she wanted to take it slow and that was fine by me. I pointed out I only had one bedroom and I would sleep on the sofa. I was hoping we could both sleep in my bed.

I didn't sleep on the sofa. It was very tentative that first night, gentle love making after we both got over our initial nervousness. Things took off like a rocket after that we were both adventurous, we both introduced things to each other that they had not experienced before and not just in the bedroom or on the sofa or on the beach or in the sea in Majorca. That one was a little difficult.

We married two years later, I'm not sure her parents liked me very much. They gave me the impression I was not good enough for her. But it was her choice. She moved into my flat. She could commute to her job in Andover from Basingstoke whilst I carried on with mine in Reading. Life was very good. After a few years we managed to get a little house on the outskirts of Basingstoke.

Things settled down, Gerry and I met quite often for drinks and at the Cricket Club on a Sunday. He still fixed stuff around our house, although with the help of YouTube I was getting better at doing stuff. Although I still did his paperwork.

I thought Gerry had stopped his philandering ways and had settled down, although a couple of years ago he did ask me if Lisa phoned up to say we were playing golf. I told him I wouldn't do that. If he wants to play around on his head be it. It was a foolish thing to do from the risk of losing his wife and his lovely two year old daughter if Lisa caught him straying.

He just fobbed me off again saying it'll be alright.

I had told Carrie what he was like before he married Lisa, and I thought he might be playing away again and suggested not to cover for him if he asked. I didn't want us to get involved.

He never did ask me to make an excuse for him, but about a year ago Lisa phoned me up to ask if I'd seen Gerry, I told her I hadn't, but I had a message he was going to be late. He had car trouble. He did explain to me what it was, but I didn't understand three quarters of what he said. It was all gobboldy gook to me. Anyway, he had a bright yellow Mustang that was only a few years old. It shouldn't be breaking down just yet. Gerry is a petrol head. To me, a car is just a box on wheels to get you from A to B. If something goes wrong with the car, a light comes on the dashboard and I take it to the garage.

Gerry turned up two hours late and I told him Lisa had phoned me, and I told him what I said to her. He just smiled at me. Then it came back to me that last year he asked me to make excuses for him. He hadn't actually asked me to do that, he just fed me a line that I would feed to Lisa. I told him I was pissed off with that and not to use me like that again. He told me it was the first time he had done that. He got caught short. I told him I didn't want to know the details. He brought the beer for the rest of the afternoon.

In the few weeks before I went away there were a few things that had been worrying me. Just little things over the last week our sex life had taken off even more than it was before. I put it down to baby making.

As I said she didn't work Friday afternoons but twice I got home and the stuff she did on Friday afternoon hadn't been done. And she was particular about that. It gave us the weekend to enjoy ourselves and not have to bother too much about household jobs. I questioned her about it and she was evasive. I was getting worried, too many things were just not right. I kept an eye on her clothes and other telltale signs of her having an affair, like coming in late and making random excuses. There was nothing, so I ignored it. It was just me being paranoid being married to a beautiful woman. I was going home and we could have a chat about it just to put my mind at rest.

I made better time than I expected, maybe due to the empty roads and exceeding the speed limit a bit at times. The road works on the A339 were still on and the detour was down the A34 to the A303 was fine for lorries, but I was in a small hire car. A Fiat something or other, well, that's what the badge on the steering wheel said. But being a local lad I knew the back roads and headed towards Kingsclere. As I passed through it, I saw a Yellow Mustang that looked like Gerald's. But he would be at work, I knew he was on nights this week. There is more than one yellow Mustang around, I'm sure.