Chapter 1

There are certainly better ways to spend your time than sitting in a small glass walled office writing code. There are few things more satisfying than finding out that the app that your code is driving has induced a major social media company to tender a multimillion dollar offer that will basically set you up for life. That was where I was about to find myself. The day was March Eleventh. A day I would remember for many reasons.

The day started weirdly. I knew that a big decision was about to come down. With my two partners Jennifer Lou and Martin Brown I was waiting for our law firm to confirm the purchase contract. Rumors had been circulating for the past month among the small staff.

Julie, the partners administrative assistant, dropped by at nine-thirty with the mail. Most of it was the expected correspondence. One letter, however, was different. It was typed and had the printed logo of the Burger, Burger & Smith Law Firm.

Intrigued I opened the letter.

Mr. Becket. Pursuant to the execution of the will of Antonio J. Baglio we wish to inform you that you are the sole inheritor of Mr. Baglio’s estate. We ask that you contact us at (540)###-#### at you earliest convenience.

It was signed Cynthia Smith, Esq.

Antonio J. Baglio? That could only be Uncle Tony, my mother’s step brother. I had not seen Uncle Tony in several years. Could he really have named me as his heir? He had some money, or so I had heard. My mother had passed while I was at university.

Uncle Tony was a bachelor. Never been married. Last I had heard he had moved to Virginia, to some little town in the west of the state.

I dialed the number on my desk phone.

“B, B & S Law, Debbie speaking.”

“This is Daniel Becket. May I please speak to Ms. Smith.”

“One moment, Please.” I heard just about thirty seconds of hold music.

“Mr. Becket. This is Cynthia Smith. Sir, I might have some very important news for you, but I need to establish that you are the correct Daniel Becket. What is you birthday please?”

I thought for a long minute before answering, giving her my birthday some twenty-seven years before. Phishing was a thing after all.

“What was your mother’s name?”

I hesitated again.

“Mr. Becket?”

“How do I know you’re not just fishing for information?”

Now she was the one who was hesitating. Then she said, “Was it Bonnie?”

I hesitate only a minute. “Yes.”

“Tony’s, that is Mr. Baglio’s estate primarily consists of some real estate here in the town of Lesserton, some stocks and bonds, and a bit of money. I don’t suppose I could convince you to come on down to sign some paperwork?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said. “I could probably get away next month.”

“We’ll have to post the forms to you then.”

She repeated back my home address.

“I’ll try to get them back to you quickly, but I’ve got some other stuff happening right now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Becket. Should you decide to dispose of the property I’m sure our firm can put you in touch with a local Realtor.”

“Thank you Ms. Smith. I’m sure that’s what I’ll want to do.”

As I hung up I saw Martin approaching my office.

“It’s on, Danny,” he said as he entered the office. “I just spoke to Webber. They like the purchase contract.”

“They didn’t have a problem with the non-compete clause?”

“Nope. We get a remuneration for signing and it doesn’t extend to our employees. It only covers you, me and Jenn. It only prevents us from deploying another app in the same space, not from working on any other apps or with any other developers. They’ve also agreed to the balance of payments in stock.”

“I can’t believe it’s really happening,” I said.

“Believe it buddy.”

“This is just what we hoped for when we sat around that coffee table the week before graduation.”

“Have you told Jenn yet?”

“Not yet. She’s not in yet and neither is that little hottie from accounting.”

“Bridget?”

“Yeah. I saw them out at Georgio’s last night. Jenn was hanging all over her.”

“I would have like to have seen that.”

“Perv,” Martin said.

“You should call Darla and give her the good news.”

I looked at my watch. It was barely ten.

“Nah. Think I’ll head home. Next month maybe we can take that cruise together, if you can convinced one of your many girlfriends to come along.”

“Considering the amount of money we’re looking at I could probably convince a gaggle of them.”

“Now who’s the perv?” I asked.

The ride home was much quicker at this time of day than the out had been several hours earlier. As I pulled up to the house I noticed Darla’s Lexis in the driveway blocked in by another car. Darla was a Realtor. Based on the proposed buyout we had discussed selling. Perhaps she had found a buyer?

I was not especially quiet as I opened the front door. I almost called out, but decided that if Darla was in the middle of a sales pitch I did not want to interrupt her. It turned out to be a smart choice, and a bad one.

I hung up my light jacket in the front closet. Moving into the living room I saw the first sign things might not be right. Laying on the couch was one of Darla’s blouses and a frilly beige bra. My wife was not typically one to discard clothing at odd places in the house, particularly if she was showing the property.

Quietly now I turned back to the stairway. I started to make my way up the stairs. I was almost at the top when I heard a kind of low wailing sound. It was all to familiar.

“Ohhhhh! Auhhhhh!”

The noise prompted me to run up the last few steps.

I looked down the hall for the origin of the cry. The door to the bedroom was opened. Inside I saw A pair of man’s legs spread out on my bed, the feet still covered by dark dress socks. Hovering above the supine figure I saw my wife’s naked perfect ass moving as she buried a quite hard and sizable cock into her grasping pussy. I can say it was grasping because as she moved up I could see some of her insides were being dragged out of her.

Her whole body shimmied and for the first time I heard her partner moan with a deep resonance. Looking closer it was easy to see the red rash that was beginning to spread from her ass up her twisting back. From long experience I new what that meant.

With quite deliberate malice I stepped to the bedroom door. Already knowing the answer I screamed out, “What the hell is going on here!”

Darla, almost certainly on the very verge of her orgasm jumped off her partner so quickly she fell off the bed and into a heap. This revealed her collaborator, none other than Bryce T. Hurley, my former very good friend, who in a moment of typical eloquence looked me straight in the eye and said, “Shit!”

I turned around and walked back down the stairs. Even though it was still before noon I walked straight to the early twentieth century console radio which had been converted to a bar. Inside there was an array of various bottles of high test alcohol and I settled on a mid priced scotch which I dumped into a highball glass.