Playing with Bad Boys

While she lay there thinking about the money and what she and Darren would do with it, she idly reached down to stroke her pussy. A tingle of arousal surged through her, and on impulse she pulled the sheet off Sesterman's flaccid cock and took it into her mouth.

It took several minutes, but Sesterman soon awoke and responded to her sexual invitation. Soon he rolled her over and began pounding into her. She pulled her knees back to her shoulders to get him as deep in her as possible. "Fuck me, you bastard, fuck me!" she wailed as she bucked up at him lustfully. Sesterman's hands grabbed her hips and savagely yanked her to him over and over again until both of them reached their climaxes. Then Shannon rolled away and fell asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

When she awoke the next morning, the sun was streaming through the windows. Her head was throbbing with a hangover and her mouth tasted like food had decayed in it. When she opened her eyes and looked over the side of the bed, all she could make out were a pair of legs dressed in suit pants and lace-up shoes standing in front of her. As her eyes rose higher, she was startled to see an erect cock sticking out through the fly of the pants.

"Suck it," Sesterman demanded.

Before she could protest, he reached down, grabbed her hair and pulled her toward his crotch. Reluctantly she opened her mouth and his cock slid in until she was almost gagging. He began to face-fuck her, and she felt powerless to resist. As much as she hated being used like this, Shannon decided that the best thing she could do was to finish him as quickly as possible, so she began to employ every trick she knew with her lips and tongue to get him off. When he was almost there he abruptly pulled out of her mouth and ejaculated all over her face.

Hiding her disgust, she used the bedsheet to wipe his cum off her face while he zipped himself up. Then he sat down in a nearby chair and said brusquely, "Now let's talk business." It was clear to Shannon that the passivity she had witnessed in him last night had disappeared with the morning.

"Here's the way it's going to go down," he said in a curt voice. "You are going to meet me at my office at 5:00 p.m. this afternoon. You bring the $80,000 with you in a briefcase. Come alone -- no one else or the deal's off. I'll have the Eurobonds waiting. I'll count the cash and you count the bonds to be sure everything's kosher."

"Then, once we're both satisfied, you and I will drive to a storage locker I've rented, You bring a heavy-duty padlock and I'll have one as well. We'll both lock the money up so neither one can pull any tricks. We'll leave the money in the locker while we go inspect the merchandise at the container terminal. Once I've had a chance to verify that you really have the iPads, you and I will drive back to the storage locker and each of us will collect our money."

He paused. "Got it?" he asked. When she nodded, he stared at her a moment longer. "Remember: no tricks," he said.

Shannon held his gaze, hoping that the distaste she felt for him wasn't visible. "No tricks, Sesterman. All that's going to happen is that everyone is going to walk away getting exactly what they want."

Sesterman gave her a thin smile and headed for the door. Then he paused and looked back at her. "Oh, and I was right: you are a great piece of ass," he said with a smirk. Shannon simply stared at him, and he turned and left.

When she got back to the motel, Darren was waiting impatiently for her and wouldn't leave her alone until she had described the encounter. He seemed particularly interested in hearing about the sex, and Shannon couldn't understand why he wanted her to go into detail.

When she described the scenario Sesterman had outlined for the afternoon's transaction, Darren got a thoughtful look on his face. "I'll have to scramble," he said, "but I think we can make this work. Let me go talk to the Russians and make some plans." With that he left Shannon to pack their meager possessions in anticipation of a quick getaway once they pulled off the scam.

As she stuffed their bags, she found herself feeling depressed again. The rebelliousness of the night before was gone, to be replaced by self-doubt. Sesterman's treatment of her that morning had made clear the true nature of what she'd become, and she felt ashamed of herself. She tried telling herself that she didn't care what others thought, but somehow she wasn't convinced.

To lift her spirits, she returned to thinking about what she and Darren might do with the money. "I'd really like to see Paris," she thought. "I've always heard it's really nice." She pictured herself walking by the Eiffel Tower, shopping at exclusive French salons and dining in fine restaurants. The thoughts lifted her mood, and she was almost back to normal when Darren returned.

He walked into the motel room carrying a large briefcase. "Okay," he said, "I think we've got it all worked out." He patted the briefcase. "Inside this case are 80 Gs. You need to guard it with your life until it's locked up in that storage unit, because if anything happens to it the Russians will be on us like a shark on a seal."

Shannon shuddered at that image and then asked "So how's it all going to work?"

"It's probably better if you don't know," Darren replied. "That way you can't inadvertently give anything away."

Shannon didn't appreciate his lack of confidence in her, but before she could say anything he hurried on. "There's one more bit of acting you'll need to do to seal the deal. Then we're home free."

She listened to his instructions and gave a small smile. "I can do that," she said confidently.

Just before 5:00 p.m. Darren dropped Shannon off outside the foundation offices. "Just remember, baby, in an hour of so we'll be rich," he said encouragingly. Shannon began walking toward the building, lugging the briefcase. Darren had handled it up to now, and she was surprised to discover just how much all those stacks of $100 bills weighed.

Sesterman was waiting for her anxiously. When he tried to take the briefcase from her, she snatched it back. "Easy, easy," he soothed, "I'm just going to count it." He pointed to a metal-clad carrying case on the table nearby. "The Eurobonds are in there. You can check them out if you want."

Shannon went over to Sesterman's briefcase and quickly totaled the face value of the bonds. Next she pulled one of the bonds from the middle of the stack and took a picture of it with her cellphone. Then she emailed the photo to the account she'd been given. In a few minutes, her phone rang and a voice with a Slavic accent said, "They're real. You can proceed."

She silently heaved a sigh of relief and nodded at Sesterman. "Alright," he said, "let's get going."

They each picked up their briefcases and went out to Sesterman's Mercedes. He drove for a couple of miles in silence until they came to a somewhat run-down self-storage facility. Shannon's doubts must have showed on her face because Sesterman volunteered, "I chose this place because nobody ever comes here. We won't be disturbed."

Sesterman pulled up in front of one of the roll-up doors and they both got out. When he'd unlocked the padlock and pulled up the door, Shannon saw that here was nothing inside except a shelf unit along one wall. Sesterman slid his briefcase onto a shelf and beckoned her to do the same with hers. "The money will be safe here until we get back from the container terminal," he told her.

They exited the storage unit and Sesterman snapped his padlock shut. Then Shannon attached the padlock that she'd brought along in her purse. "Now neither one of us can get in without the other," she told him. He nodded with grudging appreciation.

"Alright," she said when they were back in the car, "let's go have a look at a lot of iPads."

Sesterman headed east and pulled onto the on-ramp to Lincoln Highway, heading south. When he reached Port Street he looped around heading east, and then turned south on Corbin Street and into the Port Newark Container Terminal. The place was enormous, and Shannon had to pull out the directions that Darren had given her to tell Sesterman where to find what they were looking for. They slowly drove past row after row of brightly colored shipping containers; in the background, loading cranes loomed like giant orange birds against the skyline.

Eventually they turned into a narrow "street" formed by the multicolored containers, and Shannon directed Sesterman to stop next to one painted a bright blue. She checked the numbers on the end of the container against the sheet from her purse, then looked up at Sesterman. "This is it," she told him. She handed him a key and he quickly unlocked the padlock and opened one of the two doors.

The 40-foot-long container was filled with large boxes bearing the familiar Apple logo. Sesterman pulled a folding knife out of his pocket and quickly opened one of the boxes, revealing a stack of smaller boxes inside. He slit one open and pulled out an iPad, giving an exultant cry as he did so.

"I told you," Shannon said. Then, just as Darren had told her, she added, "But you'll want to check the boxes in the back, just to make sure they're all the same."

"You're right," Sesterman agreed eagerly, and began clambering over the top of the large boxes to get to the far end of the container.

When he had almost reached the back, Shannon could wait no longer and began trying to close the container door. When he heard the hinges creaking, Sesterman turned and yelled, "What the fuck are you doing?" Frantically, he began scrambling back toward the front as Shannon desperately tried to close the door. But the locking pole stuck and she wasn't strong enough to move it. As Sesterman got nearer, she turned in fear and ran back up the alley of cargo containers until she came to the street.

Yelling in rage, Sesterman clambered out of the container and took off after her, only to see her hop into Darren's waiting car. Quickly he turned and ran back to his Mercedes to chase after them. But before he could get out of the cul de sac, an 18-wheeler pulled across the entrance to the alley, blocking the way. Sesterman angrily jumped out of his car and demanded that the driver move, but the man responded in a language that Sesterman didn't understand. Then, the driver and his helper began unloading their truck while Sesterman stood there cursing in frustration.

Shannon was still shaking as she and Darren drove out of the container terminal and headed for the self-storage unit. "I felt like I was running in tar," she gasped. "I was sure he was going to catch me."

Darren just grinned. "You don't need to worry about Sesterman," he chuckled. "Those truckers have orders to keep him there an hour before they move their rig. We'll be long gone by then."

"Won't he call the police?" she asked anxiously.

"And send them to the storage unit to find all that cash and those Eurobonds? Not likely: that would be the end of his political dreams for sure!" Darren laughed.

When they pulled into the self-storage unit, the place was deserted. Shannon quickly ran to the door of Sesterman's unit and used the key to unlock her padlock. While she was doing that, Darren opened the trunk of his car and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters. It took a little doing, but the shackle was no match for the heavy-duty cutters. Quickly Darren grabbed the handle and raised the door. "Here we go!" he said with glee and ducked inside.

Shannon followed, only to see Darren frantically scouring the insides of the small container. Then he whirled around, grabbed Shannon's shoulders and began to shake her. "Where are the briefcases?" he yelled. "Where's the money?"

Shannon twisted free of his grip and went over to the bare shelving unit to look for herself. "We left them right here!" she said in confusion. "I know they were here!"

"Sesterman must have taken them!" Darren cried, grasping for some explanation.

"No, he didn't," Shannon shrilled. "I saw them with my own two eyes -- they were on the shelf when we locked the door."

Darren grabbed his head and began to moan. When he looked up at her, she saw that his face had gone pale. "Oh God, oh God," he cried, "this is bad. This is very bad. The Russians will kill us if we don't get them their money!"

His fear caused Shannon to panic. "It's not our fault, Darren," she cried desperately. "Somebody must have stolen it. The Russians will understand -- they have to!"

"You don't get it. These are really bad people. I know what they've done to others who owed them money, and we owe them a shit pile of it! We're as good as dead!"

"No," Shannon yelled, grabbing at Darren's arm, "we can talk to them. We can pull another con and then pay them back."

"Let me go, you stupid bitch!" Darren screamed at her, shoving her so hard that she fell to the concrete floor, bruising her hip. "I've got to get out of here."

As she looked up in shock, he dashed out of the storage unit and headed straight for the car. "Wait for me," she yelled, struggling to get to her feet, but Darren ignored her and started the engine. But before he could even get the car in motion, two large black SUVs pulled into the driveway, blocking him in completely. Several large men ran to the car door and yanked Darren out of the driver's seat. In seconds they had bound his hands behind him and thrust him into the back seat of one of the SUVs.

As she stood there paralyzed at the sight, Shannon felt rough hands grab her arms and twist them behind her back. Heavy plastic bands tightened around her wrists, and then she was propelled toward the opposite door of the same SUV that held Darren. Once she was inside, another plastic band was wrapped around her ankles and she was totally helpless.

In terror she glanced over at Darren, only to watch in horror as one of the men pulled a burlap sack over his head. Then her own vision went dark as she felt the rough cloth envelope her face. She began to plead with her captors, but a rough voice ordered her to keep quiet, and she obeyed out of fear.

As the car sped up, Shannon suddenly remembered Robert's account of the mob execution he had investigated the night she'd met Darren. Now his description of the double murders came back to her in lurid detail, and she began to sob in terror at the thought of her face being blown off inside the burlap bag. Hot, burning tears flooded down her cheeks, and mucous ran over her upper lip and into her mouth. She had to gasp to breathe, which only made her cry harder.

Her panic-stricken mind desperately groped for some miracle that might provide salvation. "Maybe someone will see us like this and report it to the police," she thought, but then she remembered the tinted windows and lapsed into self-pity. "It's not fair," she thought, "I'm not a bad person, I don't deserve to die." But when she thought about the way she'd treated Robert and her family, she was forced to admit that she wasn't a very good person after all. In her feverish state, even the figure of the old man they'd bilked in Wilmington came back to accuse her.

As her thoughts went to her family, she tried to recall the religion her father had worked in vain to instill in her. She mentally began to bargain with God, promising to change her life, to be a better person if only He would spare her. But try as she might she could not recall any prayers, and finally she slumped down in her seat in abject despair.

From her side she heard a sound, and she realized that Darren was whimpering. "And to think I thought he was a bad boy!" she raged to herself. The car went around a curve just then, causing her to shift on the seat, and the pain from her bruised hip reminded her of Darren's cowardly attempt to flee without her. She silently began to curse him and herself for her fascination with him.

Abruptly the car made a sharp turn, and the vibrations from the tires made it clear that they had turned onto an unpaved road. A new jolt of terror shot through Shannon. "We're at the landfill," she thought, and began to sob again.

The SUV abruptly braked to a stop, almost throwing Shannon into the seat in front of her. The door beside her was thrown open, and she shrieked as she felt hands groping her legs. "Hold still," a voice gruffly ordered, and then the plastic band around her ankles fell off.

Now a hand grabbed her and pulled her from the car. The unknown abductor led her forward, and she could hear Darren shuffling alongside her. They stumbled their way over the rough ground for some 20 yards and then stopped. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and forced her down on her knees. The ground was rocky, but in her fear Shannon hardly noticed.

A voice to one side of them asked, "How much longer?"

"Five minutes max," another voice replied.

At first Shannon was perplexed, but the awful truth came to her quickly: she had less than five minutes to live. She started to slump to the ground, but a hand roughly pulled her back up.

Then, as she knelt there shivering in terror, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and suddenly light flooded through the loose weave of the burlap. "It must be the car headlights," she thought, and then she shrieked as she felt a hand at the back of her head.

At that instant the bag was yanked off her head, and in the blinding light all she could see was a pair of legs standing in front of her.

"Was this what you wanted?" a bitter voice rang out, and Shannon gasped. "That sounds like Robert's voice," she thought in disbelief.

"Is this really the life you wanted, living like a common criminal, always on the run -- with someone like him?" the voice asked again. Now Shannon knew she was right.

Now Robert's voice dropped in level but was raw with emotion. "I would have given you anything, Shannon, done anything to make you happy. I would have taken a bullet for you."

She could do nothing but hang in her head in shame and misery.

"Here," he said sharply, and when she looked up she saw him reach into the inside pocket of his jacket. Involuntarily she flinched, but instead of the pistol she feared he pulled out an envelope and threw it on the ground in front of her. "Since you wanted it so badly, here are your divorce papers," he said bitterly.

Then he stared at her for a minute, then raised his head and looked around at the others. "I'm done here. You can have the two of them now," he said and walked away from the kneeling pair.

One of the other figures standing outside the circle of light spoke up, "Alright, people, the show's over. Let's get back to work."

Shannon and Darren were pulled to their feet. With their hands still bound behind them they were led to the SUV and maneuvered into the back seat. Someone dumped the envelope in Shannon's lap. In minutes they were on the highway heading southeast.

Darren was the first to recover from the ordeal, and in an angry voice he demanded, "What the fuck was that all about?"

The figure in the passenger side of the front seat turned around, and Shannon was surprised to see that it was an attractive African-American woman. "That was a little professional courtesy we provided to a fellow FBI agent who wanted a chance to confront his ex-wife," she said. "We decided to add the theatrics."

"The FBI," Darren sneered, "I should have known. How long have you been after us?"

The agent laughed. "Hell, you two are just little fish in a big pond. We weren't even after you two, we were just using you as bait to get the real bad guys, the Russian mafia. We rounded up the whole lot of them this afternoon."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes, and Darren angrily snapped at her, "You were the ones who took the money from the storage locker!"

The woman just grinned at him. "Of course, we took it -- evidence, you know?"