Rocky Mountain Hell - Prelude

Hello again. I had a comment about 'Rocky Mountain Hell' in which someone asked for some of the back stories. It seemed as if they wanted to know how 'Petra' got her wolves, more of her back story, a bit more about Robin, etc. I thought 'Why not'? So, here it goes. Don't worry, it won't be near as long as 'Uncertain Justice' by Longhorn_07. Thanks, BTW for those of you that commented and found it for me. If you're interested (and you should be, because it is a great read) it is 55 pages in Literotica and is in the non-erotic category. I have sent him/her a message, but I'm not expecting any responses, since his last post was in 2012.

Also, I hope to correct a few mistakes that seemed to get past my self-editing. In the beginning of 'Rocky Mountain Hell' I originally said her name was Lacy Coultrain and Irish. At the end, her real name was Ingrid, and she was part Russian. I will be going with Ingrid from now on. It just seems to work better. There were a few other things that didn't quite fit either, but I am hoping to correct them as well.

Another note before you dig in, I plan on jumping back and forth between Ingrid/Petra and Robin. In these (yes, I plan on a few more stories on them) here. This first story will take place before they have their dinner together.

Exclaimers:

1. There is no descriptive sex in this story.
2. I am submitting it under Novels and Novellas because the original story is in that category. I like to keep my series stories under the same category.
3. There is a bit of BTB here to maybe satisfy the normal people in the Loving Wives category. In fact, there is a full, out-of-control bonfire wit lots of bitches and bastards getting scorched.

Rocky Mountain Hell - Prelude 01:

My name is Ingrid Peterson. I am married to an asshole named David Peterson. Until this moment, I didn't know that he was an asshole. I was desperately in love with the prick - until this moment. That love was shattered the second I accidentally saw him fucking my best friend in a side room at the hotel ballroom a couple of minutes before the New Year. Yes, it was New Years Eve, and we were at a party in the swankiest hotel in New York City. I hid in the shadows and behind a wall as I listened to their pillow talk when they were finished.

"So, are you ever going to dump that bitch and marry me?" Donna asked.

"Of course not." He answered. "We've discussed that before. I can't divorce her for another 8 years. She's rich, and she gets us into these high-end events. Plus, I can use her money to set you up in your high-end condo and give you the lifestyle that you want. If I divorce her, I would get a one-time payout, but the gravy train would end. You know that I had to sign a prenup with her. It won't be worth it until after my 10^th anniversary. Once that hits, I will be paid $10 million dollars, as long as we keep our affair a secret. There is an infidelity clause that will tale all that away if she gets proof of our affair, so you really need to be discrete."

"Don't worry about that." She responded. "All of our mutual friends know what's going on and have been distracting her whenever we get together."

Proof? I would think that the 10-minute video I took, as well as the 50 pictures would be enough proof. As far as the 'friends' were concerned, I was wondering if their spouses would approve of their overt help in my husband cheating on me with my best friend. After all, if they were willing to help my husband cheat on me, what was to stop them from cheating on their husbands.

So, I didn't send all that info out immediately. I took my time with it. I am Russian to my core. Sure, I was not a recent immigrant. My parents had defected years before I was even conceived. Stil, they taught me my heritage. Russians play for keeps. Russians also play the long game. While we seem to give in or accept a bad deal, we are always focused on the end.

To that end, I began to again to take my birth control pills. I would not be stuck with a child from that asshole. I began subtly moving money around. Yes, I even moved his money around. He thought that he was being sly, but I had everything documented. It was extremely easy to play the part. All I had to do was pretend to be the loving wife and the good friend while gathering evidence.

I lasted 6 months. I should mention that most of the money and assets were mine. My husband had a decent job, as did I, but I came into the marriage with a large trust fund. I was a second generation American. My grandparents were immigrants (defectors) from Russia. Grandpa had valuable information when he escaped the Iron Curtain. He used that information and his mind to create a vast wealth. My father used his education in Business to increase it. I was an only child, so when my parents were killed by a drunk driver, so I inherited everything.

I used my trust to hire a private investigator. I not only wanted information on my husband and my best friend, but I also wanted information on all my friends that knew what was happening and neglected to tell me. How the hell did I end up with all these sluts as friends? Those that weren't cheating on their husbands were covering for those that were. Half of those that were cheating were cheating with the husbands of their friends.

I collected all the information and assembled it. Pictures, video, audio, everything. Turns out that he was not the only one in our group of friends that was cheating. Once I got the names of my backstabbing 'friends', their husbands got all the information about them. Those videos and pictures were also shared with friends, family, church congregations, employers, coworkers and their spouses (yes several were also cheating with their coworkers), and anyone else I could think of. I learned later that it had caused several divorces. Those that were cheating with their coworkers (and even a few with their bosses) were fired and given terrible letters of recommendation. I heard that one letter of recommendation was 6-pages long and ended with a statement saying, 'In conclusion, I would not hire this person to be the lavatory assistant that wipes the shit off of the asses of all the employees after they defecate in the bathrooms!'

As my PI was gathering the information, I moved all my assets to where Asshole could not get to them. As that was going on, I began preparing for my exit. I transferred $10,000 from one of my shell companies to one of my cousins to purchase a used pickup. Another shell corporation purchased 7 horses and had them boarded at a ranch at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. They also purchased several packsaddles and paneers for them.

The more I learned, the more I hated them. These were supposed to be my friends. He was supposed to be my mate for life. I was disillusioned with people. The people that were supposed to be my friends turned their backs on me. The man that was supposed to love me forever was nothing more than a gold-digging and cheating asshole. I couldn't trust anyone anymore.

I decided that I couldn't trust anyone anymore. I didn't need people in my life. I was fine being on my own. Being an only child, I spent countless hours by myself. Even when I was at a party or in a crowd, I would hang back alone. I was more comfortable by myself than in a crowd. I vowed to cut all these people out of my life. As far as men were concerned, my husband was the latest of a long line of bad relationships. Men were nothing but bad news. I vowed to never have anything to do with them anymore. They simply were not trustworthy.

I began planning my escape. I was going to burn all of them. Divorce was out, because Asshole would get half of everything. Ironic, isn't it? Usually, it is the man that is in this position. It took 6 months to hide everything. I remembered my youth when Grandpa first took me to a cabin that he had found while hunting in the Rocky Mountains. Over the next several years, he took me there several times. All that time, he taught me how to live off the land. Sometimes, we would spend as much as a month at that cabin. Grandpa was a soldier in the Russian army. He was trained to live off the land. He taught me everything he knew. I remembered the cabin deep in the Rocky Mountains. Grandpa had secured ownership of it through a foreign corporation that he had established.

Using the same corporation that I had inherited; I found a ranch in the area that was in financial trouble. I bought an interest in the ranch and paid off their debts. I then purchased seven horses from around the area and kept them at the ranch. Over the next several months, several deliveries were made to the ranch, and they were stored in the barn.

My cousin showed up around a half an hour after my husband left for work. I wasn't taking much with me, since I had most of what I needed stored in the barn at the ranch. In fact, most of what we loaded up in the truck were things that he would sell off anonymously. That included his comic book collection as well as all his collectable Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars that he has had since he was a 5-years old. OK, so I am a bitch. Deal with it. Just before I walked out the door for the last time, I hit the [SEND] icon on Asshole's computer. 200 emails were delivered with a link to over 50 videos. Those emails would cause a dozen divorces, dozens of friendships broken, 15 lost jobs, and three arrests.

Robin:

I was born and raised in small-town America. It was a small town in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. As you can probably guess, the main entertainment was fishing and hunting. Given that, I became a crack shot. I was also a very good student. I've always been intelligent with a knack for analyzing information. That's what ended up landing me in my eventual position.

As mentioned above, I spent a lot of my time in the mountains fishing, hunting, and camping. I loved being in the mountains. The scenery was always beautiful. Granted, I had really never been deep in the mountains; mainly I stayed within about 50 miles of our town. I occasionally looked longingly at the high peaks and imagined the deep valleys that existed far into the terrain. I imagined that maybe one day I would get the chance to see it.

From the time that I was 14-years old, I've known I was different from the other girls. While they were going goodle-eyed over Trevor Harris, I was trying to hide my attraction to Tracy Hanson. I was smart enough to know that the small town that I lived in was not conductive to being a lesbian. I hid my attraction by delving into my studies. Whenever I was asked about that, I simply stated that the only way out of the small town was through getting an education. Yes, I dated a few times, but that was just to satisfy my parents.

Obviously, I never experienced sexual encounters with a woman during my high school years. It wasn't until halfway through my first week in the dorms at college that I lost my virginity. That was to my 'out and proud' lesbian roommate. Of course, my parents were completely disgusted with the fact that I had a 'perverted heathen' as a roommate, but I told them that we were chosen at random, and I couldn't do anything about it. Lynn was more than just a bit put off by their comments, and she pretty much ignored me for the first three days. It wasn't until Wednesday evening that I sat her down and made her listen to me. It was a long conversation that didn't end until 3:00 AM Thursday morning.

Well, maybe that depends on what you actually define as a conversation. The part concerning 'I don't agree with my parents, but I had to pretend so they wouldn't figure out I'm also gay' ended about four minutes, 32 seconds after it started. The part of the conversation consisting of, 'OHMYGOD! DON'T STOP! YES, YES, YES, RIGHT THERE!' And, of course, the ever popular 'FUCK ME! FUCK ME HARDER'. Finally ended when we both passed out from exhaustion around the previously mentioned early morning hour. Thankfully, neither of us had classes until the afternoon on Thursday.

Lynn grew up in Colorado Springs, with is a bastion of liberal thought. The gay lifestyle there is much more tolerated, and she had the opportunity to experience that. She was well-versed in the sapphic bedroom (living room, bathroom, dining room, etc,) activities. She gave me a graduate lever course in lesbian love over our first semester. Not only that, but college is a place to learn and expand your education. There are a lot of lab courses where you run experiments on what you learn in lectures. Take Chemistry, Physics, and most other science courses. Most of those also have a lab class attached to them. Well, with me being new to lesbian sex, we also did a lot of experimenting. Of course, that included purchasing 'Lab Supplies'. Yes, I lost my virginity to my roommate's strap-on.

Over the next four years, I had several female lovers. Yes, Lynn and I continued to get together, but neither one of us was ready to settle down. I managed to keep my sexuality hidden from my parents all through college. Over summer and winter breaks, I dutifully dated the occasional boy that my parents set me up with. All they ever got was a pack on the cheek at the end of the night and some handholding throughout the evening.

My major in college was Language. I loved learning different languages, and I had hoped to become a translator after college. During my senior year, I applied to the FBI. I figured that would be a good career, and I could also help put criminals away. I should probably mention here that I also minored in Criminal Justice. The FBI didn't even hesitate. By that time, I spoke seven different languages, so I could translate over a broad range of suspects. I could even read and write in several languages, including Chinese and Arabic, Thant made me valuable in translating documents recovered during searches.

All recruits are required to go through the Academy. As I mentioned earlier, I grew up in a smack town where the main entertainment is hunting, fishing, and camping. Also, I had three brothers and a small army of cousins. No, you perverts, there was nothing inappropriate going on. You may remember that I mentioned that I was a virgin when I went to college. What did happen was that I grew up to be a tomboy. I was always out in the woods roughhousing with my brothers and relatives. I got pretty damned good at defending myself while we were wrestling and fighting.

I think that I was pretty much the only one surprised during graduation when I was named the Honor Graduate. Normally, the Honor Graduate gets their pick of assignments. That's usually because they tend to pick becoming a field agent or something along those lines. When I picked Translator, I was overruled. It was determined that my skills would be better suited (or, at least more valuable) for working in the field. Thus, I was sent to the Denver office as a Junior Field agent.

So, I spent the next several years toiling as first a junior agent, then quickly moving up the ladder until I became Special Agent Smithers. At least I was being brought into interviews when translation was needed. In fact, now it was just me conducting the interviews instead of just translating while another more senior agent actually was asking the questions. I was up for the next promotion to Senior Special agent when all hell broke loose.

Ingrid:

I drove my cousin back to his house and unloaded all of the Asshole's collectables. Before we left, I broke a window in the back of the house, and we threw a bunch of stuff around each room to stage it like a break-in. Yeah, no one was going to believe that, but there are two important things to remember in court: Reasonable doubt and plausible deniability. On the miniscule chance that he ever found me again, he couldn't prove that it wasn't a break-in.

It took me a week to get to the ranch. That was because I was taking back roads, changing directions, backtracking, and doing everything I could to avoid revealing my ultimate destination. I stayed on the back roads and off the main highways. I paid for everything through the foreign corporation that Grandpa had established, and I had inherited. The actual ownership of the corporation was so hidden in trust funds and shell companies that it would take decades to find the true ownership.

I finally made it to the ranch. I was welcomed by the Mexican family that had previously owned the ranch. I had hired them to manage the property. As part of the purchase, I gave them a nice salary and free use of the property, including allowing them to stay in the home. After all, I wasn't planning on using it. Yes, they were legal residents. I hired them to manage the ranch because I didn't want it to look abandoned. Also, I didn't want any of the neighbors to start to encroach on the property. I needed it to be maintained and lived in to ensure that I could come and go as I pleased without anyone sneaking onto the property and discovering my secret. I made sure that they were well paid to begin with, and that they would receive a good percentage of any money that was made from working the ranch.

I parked my truck in the outbuildings that held all my supplies. The next morning, I would pack everything up and head out deep into the Rocky Mountains. Once a year, in the spring, they would butcher a steer and save me the meat. On my next trip down, we would smoke most of it. It would be a pleasant change from the lean change from my usual fish and wild game that I would be eating over the rest of the year. They also set up a large garden that would give me fresh and canned vegetables.

I packed up the horses the next morning and set off up into the mountains. It took me a week to get to the cabin. Nights were spent camping near streams and rivers. We got to the cabin, and I led the horses up the narrow path to the cabin and unloaded them. There was a lean-to down beside a small meadow beside the river that the horses could stay in for shelter. I hobbled them in the meadow as I strung up a quick fence to keep them from wandering off. I would build a sturdier fence in the weeks to come.

I cleaned out the cabin, then began the process of unpacking and putting everything I had brought away. Thankfully, there was a pile of firewood remaining from the last time that the cabin was used. There was no wood-fired stove, but the large fireplace had grills and hooks that were made for cooking. A wood-fired stove was just too heavy and bulky to bring up here on a pack horse. A couple of years later, I would have that and a few other items delivered by a chartered helicopter. More on that later.

The first two years were rough. I'm not gonna lie about that. I was up in the mountains alone with no modern conveniences. It was like living in the 1700's again. At least there were enough older fallen trees and large branches that I could gather to ensure that I had enough firewood to cook with and keep the cabin warm. The high valley was lush with grass and other foliage, so game was plentiful. I didn't really need much at that time, so I never really had to travel far to hunt. Still, there were a lot of things to do. I had to build a fenced in area to keep my horses from wandering off, yet still have plenty of grass to graze on. I needed to cut enough hay to keep the horses fed over the winter. I needed to do some significant work on the cabin. I needed to cut enough firewood to last until spring when the snow began to melt. On top of all that, there were several more trips back to the ranch to pick up more supplies, as well as hunting and fishing. I needed to build a smoking pit to preserve enough meat to last the winter. I was working 10-to-12-hour days with very little time to relax.

Yes, it was hard work, but it did help in a couple of ways. First off, it kept me from thinking about the asshole and all my backstabbing 'friends'. Second, it got me into the best shape of my life. Third, it wore me out enough that I was able to sleep peacefully through the night. All in all, even though it was extremely hard work, it was very therapeutic. When Spring came after my first winter, I splurged and bought a satellite dish. For an internet connection. I have to admit that I spent a few hours in the evenings on the internet reading about the havoc I wreaked on my husband and my former friends. I didn't bother to hide the fact that I sent and posted all the information. I actually wanted all of them to know that I caused all their pain and misery. I even wrote a few of them emails to let them know it was me, and that I was laughing at them. Of course, I also included why I did it as well. Good luck finding me to get any retribution. I even got several responses back. A couple expressed regret and apologies. A couple more were mad but understood why I did it. Those even gave me updates about the current status on everyone that they knew about. Most promised vengeance on me for destroying their lives.