Decisions and Consequences

I smiled weakly, "Well, we all know how I might accomplish that. How long does he need to be distracted?"

Sergei replied, "At least two hours. Longer will be even better. How long do you think you could promise my friends?"

I gave Sergei a wolfish smile, "If I haven't lost my touch, at least three and probably more. We will set up a warning system in case he is about to slip from my spider web."

THE MISSION CONTINUED

The flash drive's light flickered out; it was done. I texted, "loaded" and removed the drive.

I walked back to the bar and my purse. As I arrived, I heard George's questioning voice from the hall, "Barb?"

Damn, he did not stay down as long as I planned. I called out perkily, "In here Baby, I'm getting a chap stick and some water. Would you like some water?"

"Please."

I hastily returned my cell phone and the flash drive to my purse and removed a chap stick. I tossed the chap stick on the bar, ostensibly as though I had just used it. I walked quickly behind the bar and filled two glasses with water and ice. As I turned, George was almost to the bar. Damn, that had been close.

I proffered a glass to George with a saucy, "Goodness that was fun. Better keep you hydrated as I am going to need a repeat of that!"

George winked at me, and we both drank deeply. "Since you have to get back early to talk to your hubby, how about an early dinner in a bit. I have some magnificent ribeye cap steaks in the freezer. We can get those out to thaw a little. I have a Chateaneuf-du-Pape my wine merchant recommended highly. This would be a good excuse to try it."

"Wow that sounds great."

As George got the steaks out of the freezer and set them out to thaw, I was thinking, "Have to keep him occupied pretty much the rest of the afternoon." I cast around thinking of ideas.

"George, how private is your pool?"

He looked at me with arched eye brows, "The pool? It is heated and screened. The yards here are all large with walls. But a neighbor on an upper floor can likely see into my pool area. Why? Do you have something in mind?"

I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along laughing gayly, "Come on, I feel very naughty. We are going skinny dipping."

I squealed like a teenage girl when I jumped in the water, and we were quickly play wrestling, enjoying our wet skin sliding against one another. After a spell of childish and flirty antics, I pulled him to the end of the pool.

"I challenge you to a race to the other end. The loser has to go down on the winner."

With that I sprang into a crawl stealing a head start. Even without cheating, I expected to win easily and was looking forward to a delightful interlude with George's head buried between my thighs. I stay in shape and am an excellent swimmer. George never was an athlete.

Imagine my chagrin when he was a good half length ahead of me when we reached the far end. He grinned, "I swim two miles every morning. You picked the wrong sport, girl. OK Barb, it's time for you to pay up."

He led me to a chair at the side of the pool and sat down spreading his legs with a smile. I playfully stuck my tongue out at him, put a kick board down to kneel on, and went to work paying off my wager.

George groaned and held my head with both hands so I couldn't pull back as he came. As I felt his warm cum spurting in my mouth, I thought, "After all I am doing here, those damn Russians better be upholding their end of the bargain. What I would really like to do is crush these two balls I am holding and geld George on the spot." I swallowed it all as smoothly as any whore on 42nd street.

I stood up tossing my hair and giving George a bright smile, "You are a very fun man! I need a whiskey chaser after that though, come on."

We went to the bar poured two bourbons on the rocks, and I purred, "Now I want a tour of this place of yours. It is magnificent."

I oohed and aahed over each room, piece of furniture, and art work. George was proud as a peacock and delighted in showing me everything at length. I breezed past his office with a "Oh that looks too much like work. We'll save that for another day."

When the tour was over, I slid up to him and said, "I am filthy thanks to you. I need a shower before supper. Do you want to help?"

He did, and we spent quite a while lathering and scrubbing each other as we giggled and squealed.

Afterwards I slipped on one of his t-shirts. I have never known a guy who was not fascinated by a gal shrouded only in a thin t-shirt that barely covered her bare bottom. George's attention was certainly centered on me and not his computer, where hopefully Russian gremlins were busily doing mischievous things.

As George grilled the steak and decanted the wine, I microwaved two potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and made a quick tossed salad. The meal was heavenly, and we had both worked up quite the appetite with our afternoon antics.

After stacking the plates in the sink, I challenged George to a game of pool in his game room. He slaughtered me in two quick games. But I finally got the prize I had hoped to win in the swimming contest while splayed out on the pool table as George ministered skillfully to my desires. It was an exquisite experience.

We finished up with me bent over the pool table squealing in pleasure as George fucked my lights out one final time for the day.

It was now almost 6:30. I had almost doubled my promise to the Russians of how long I would keep George distracted. But now I was running late.

I turned to George with a contented smile, "Honey, I am a married woman and must turn into a pumpkin now."

I kissed him on the cheek saying, "This was fun. Thank you. Could you call an Uber to take me back to my car at the university?"

I swooped up my clothes and purse and said as I stepped in the bathroom, "I need to tidy up. Will just be a minute."

In the bathroom I texted, "Finished."

I put on my clothes, caught the Uber to my car, and had a pleasant chat with my husband not long after getting back home.

EPILOGUE

I had hoped some dramatic disaster would rapidly befall George. But when I gave Sergei the report on Sunday's successful mission, he warned it would take some time for my efforts to come to fruition. But my impatience grew as the weeks slipped by.

Unfortunately, I was also back on George's radar as a sexual partner again. He repeatedly invited me to meet him when he saw me at the restaurant. I did my best to dodge him and put him off with "I would love to, but ... I am a married woman ... I am right in the middle of my dissertation right now ... I am afraid Ken will find out ..." and so on. However, to avoid raising George's suspicions about my Sunday visit, I met George four more physically delightful but mentally infuriating times over the next two months at our old Hilton rendevous. I cringed knowing the CCTV video could be hacked, but hopefully this time nobody was bothering. I used the guise of research at the library to cover my adulterous trail from my husband.

Finally one Friday when I entered the bar, I heard Sergei boom out, "Barb, come have a dink with me. I have news to share."

I felt a tingle of excitement as I walked quickly to his table. Sergei stood up and engulfed me in a hug, whispering in my ear, "Ah, my Delilah, you have shorn our Samson."

I sat quickly, clapping my hands together in excitement, and demanding "What? Tell me."

Sergei pushed a shot of vodka in front of me. "First, drink to our success. Russian style. Like this." With that he threw back his head and emptied his shot of vodka in one swig.

"Sergei ..." I started exasperatedly. "Oh, all right."

With that, I followed his example, choking slightly on the fiery liquid. With teary eyes, I gasped out, "Ok. Done. Now tell me."

Sergei smiled expansively clapping me on the shoulder, "Xorosho, I will make a Russian of you yet. Now the news. George's software went on sale last month, and sales were very good. Better than anyone expected. He was hauling in money hand over fist."

I groaned, "Sergei, after all I went through, I wanted to destroy him, not make him richer."

"Be patient, Dorogoaya, darling. Tuesday morning there were ten successful ransomware attacks on computers protected by George's new software. A hospital, two health insurance companies, three banks, three major corporations, and a state tax office were each hit with a million dollar ransom demand."

Sergei shrugged his massive shoulders, "What could they do? Nine paid already."

I smiled as I began to see how this was unfolding. "So now those companies will turn around and sue George because of defective software?"

But I had underestimated the cunning of Sergei and his friends. He replied grinning wickedly, "Oh yes, that for sure. George was overconfident and guaranteed his product. But it also so happens the FBI has uncovered some documents implicating George in the ransomware attacks."

I murmured, "I don't suppose your friends in Russia had anything to do with leaking those documents or the ransomware attacks, did they?"

Sergei just smiled and shrugged noncommittally as he continued, "Every programer has his own style. Like a bombmaker leaves his signature in how a bomb is made, a programmer leaves his signature in his coding. The backdoor into George's security program is a subtle, very clever bug coded to match George's style perfectly.

"George figured out he had been set up as events unfolded this week and that he was facing financial oblivion and a lengthy federal prison sentence. He fled the country last night. He is ruined and probably hiding overseas somewhere out of reach of the U.S. legal system."

I sat back contentedly. Revenge really is a dish best served cold. It tasted delightful.

Sergei reached inside his coat and extracted an envelope which he passed to me. The flap was not sealed. I glanced in and saw a check drawn on a Bahamian bank in my name for $100,000. The memo line said "For Consulting Services."

I glanced at Sergei questioningly.

He answered, "My friends just made nine million dollars they could not have made without your help. You also blocked a serious threat to their business. They wanted to tell you spasibo, thank you."

I nodded my head and smiled as I put the envelope in my purse thinking to myself, "My-oh-my, fucking George was certainly profitable, even if it was immoral."