The Future of Deepfakes

Lane always waited until he heard the water running, but those sweat-soaked panties were the only consolation prize. He'd bury his face in them, his eyes wide and watering. He felt the cool wetness against his skin, inhaling as deeply as he could, savoring her scent.

As far as Lane was concerned, their life was absolutely perfect. He'd pulled off the perfect crime- the woman he'd dreamed of all his life, a family of his own, a dream house. There wasn't a force in the world that could have ruined Lane's mood.

He woke up late Sunday morning and stretched across his bed. He checked his phone, saw a notice that was easy enough to ignore, A new inquiry has been opened into your credit history. This may affect your credit score-

Lane stopped reading. He could already smell the bacon and waffles, the fried eggs and home cooked hash browns wafting from the kitchen. He cooked most days, but Jessie always insisted on a big Sunday breakfast, and she never wanted help.

God I love this woman.

Lane yawned his way down the stairs. He turned towards the kitchen and watched Jessie's face light up immediately. She'd been deep in focus, but seeing him there, it's like she'd swapped out a different mask. She rushed forward, gave him a quick kiss, and started filling up a plate.

"We gotta remember to close the garbage can," she said absentmindedly, "I think an animal got in there or something. It was all ripped to shreds."

"That's my bad," Lane said, already stuffing his face. Nothing could ruin his mood.

He wasn't sure if he'd forgotten to close the garbage can, but he didn't care. It was insignificant. The second Jessie said it, Lane had already moved on and met her smile, ready to dive into her breakfast.

She was happy now, always smiling. She put on makeup and dressed the way she used to. At night she'd cuddle up next to Lane, her warm tender body pressed against his.

And Lane just kept floating on his cloud. Life was passing on autopilot, the perfect days thundering by.

He didn't catch the other little signs, the car parked opposite their house, the occasional camera flash.

He punctuated his meal with a kiss and started rinsing out his dishes in the sink. Jessie gave him a warm hug from behind and nuzzled her chin against his shoulder.

For the moment, one final moment, everything was perfect, but then the phone rang and the pieces started to fall into place.

Lane barely heard the words, "An investigation has been opened into the evidence provided during the divorce of-"

Lane stood suddenly and put as much distance between himself and his wife, "A third party has subpoenaed the video evidence provided by one Lane-"

All the little moments suddenly started clicking together. He had shut the garbage can. He was sure of it. Someone had deliberately gone through it, probably the same person who'd been parked all day taking pictures. There was the investigation into his credit score, the-

His phone rang again, a shameful number he hadn't seen in years, "We've stopped a suspected fraudulent sign-in into your account-"

"Who?" Lane demanded, "Where?"

He'd dealt with that slimy voice before, all those years ago when he argued the price to get a certain video made. The man knew the implications, and made Lane pay half his savings.

"Who god dammnit?" Lane asked again, "You promised me secrecy, that no one would ever know, that no one could ever access-"

"That's why we called," the voice said again. Lane could almost hear the slimy twisted grin on the other end.

"Then who the fuck tried to get it?" Lane snapped, "Was it him? Evan?"

Lane's phone was buzzing again, another call from his lawyer. His mind felt like it was frozen, struggling to figure out who'd actually be on his side for the farest price.

"They're looking into opening a suit," the blubbering voice said, "Unlawful divorce, abuse of-"

"Who?" Lane screamed again, "WHO?"

He glanced back towards Jessie, his eyes weary, does she know anything?

It felt like Lane was talking to a hundred voices at once. He was back on the line with the deepfaker, that same slimy voice, "Can't you see the IP? Can't you see who tried to sign in?"

The slimy voice laughed, "Of course I can... for a price."

Lane was storming outside, trying to keep Jessie out of earshot.

"What do they know?" he screamed at one person, "How much do they have?"

"You sound desperate," the slimy voice grinned, "Willing to pay anything..."

Lane's hand slammed forward, punching a hole through the siding.

"You're being asked to appear in court-"

"How much are you willing to pay?"

"The testimony provided by-"

All the voices were swirling together, his perfect castle balancing on a delicate lie. Then he saw the car.

The very same car that'd been parked opposite their house the past few days, the kind that faded into the background unless you were paying attention.

"YOU!" Lane roared. He started sprinting across the lawn, the very same one Evan had been dragged across and beaten all those years ago.

He saw the camera, saw the way the driver started to shuffle, ready to drive away-

Lane dove out in front of the car. He made his arms as wide as they'd got and stared down the driver, hate in his eyes.

"Open the door!" He screamed, "Open the goddammned door!"

His hands slammed down, slapping the hood of the car. For all he knew, Jessie might have been watching, might have followed him out, but the matter was too urgent for rationality.

"Evan hired you, didn't he?" Lane shouted, another slap, "DIDN'T HE?"

The man was a private investigator, and had dealt with more crazy in his lifetime than Lane could ever hope to throw at him.

"Then he paid you right?" Lane shouted, out of breath, "You have a number?"

The man tried to keep his composure, "Sir, I'm just doing my job, please get out of the road."

Lane's fists slammed forward again, ringing off the steel, "How much?" he screeched, "A thousand? Ten thousand? I'll double it."

The man just laughed and shook his head. He leaned back in the driver's seat, almost smiling, "Lane," the man said, tasting his name on his tongue, "We both know the truth, exactly what you did to get your little trophy wife."

Lane kept pushing closer, more desperate, "My car," he added, "It's yours. Every goddamn penny in my savings."

The man kept shaking his head, "We both know that's not much."

Lane kept trying, stammering and shaking as he spoke, "The house!" he screamed, "Every goddamned thing I own-"

The man just held up his hand, "Just how stupid do you think Evan is?"

The words stopped Lane's stammering. He froze in place, his hands still white vises around the door.

"He knows he didn't cheat, meaning he knows that video's a fake. Even if I go back to him, tell him I couldn't figure out where the video came from, he's still going to countersue, he's still-"

"I don't care," Lane snapped, "I don't care what he does, as long as he doesn't know it was me."

The investigator sized Lane up, "Jessie's not an idiot either, you know that right? Eventually she's gonna start to connect the dots and realize Evan really didn't cheat."

"I'll figure it out!" Lane snapped. He had to.

The man just gave a soft laugh, "Alright then, your first deal, ten thousand."

Lane didn't hesitate. His hand shot out and took the man's before he had a chance to renege.

The private investigator just kept chuckling, "Whatever happens, he won't hear a peep about you from me."

Every heartbeat felt like a ticking clock. If Lane was going to walk this tightrope and keep his perfect little life, every move had to be calculated. There wasn't room for a single mistake.

Lane lay in bed, as Jessie snored gently by his side. His eyes were wide open and bloodshot, staring at the ceiling as he savored every second with her warm, tender body fit against his like a puzzle piece.

You can't give this up, he thought, absolutely certain, No matter what.

He listened to the soft way she breathed, her hand on his chest, his arm around her back while he went through the whole clusterfuck of a situation.

Evan's point, Evan's entire goddamn point, is to get his money back, he reasoned, He knows we fucked him over, and he thinks Jessie did it.

Lane took a deep breathe, almost overwhelmed, And if he and Jessie ever talked... it'd only be a matter of time before everything broke down and they figured out the truth.

Lane let his mind wander, getting more creative than he'd ever been before. I could frame him, he reasoned, Get drugs in his system, make him unfit, send his ass to jail-

But Evan was the vindictive type. Lane knew that already. It'd been years, so many years, and Evan couldn't just move on and disappear?

It was a problem Lane wouldn't solve tonight, and one that wouldn't be solved with a singular fix. Instead, he focused on what he had, and tried to savor the moment while it lasted. He rolled over in bed, and slid his hand between Jessie's warm thighs.

She moved on instinct, her legs twitching as she backed into Lane's pelvis. He wrapped his arm around her chest and rested his hand across her sternum. He felt the steady way she breathed, every beat of her heart.

His other hand had nuzzled its way up her thighs and settled against her pubic bone. He didn't move his fingers or press into her flesh. All he wanted was to feel her. For his hand to rise and fall with every breath. To smell her hair, the soft way she gasped when she was asleep.

Jessie lay so completely comfortable and trusting, finally safe in the house that felt like it'd betrayed her all those years ago. She welcomed his arms like they were made for her, like she'd been waiting her entire life for Lane to swoop in and carry her off to the life she'd always dreamed about.

Her entire body seemed to ripple. She exhaled and her chest started to dip. Her breasts sank together and clasped Lane's hand in place.

Lane didn't go any further. Not yet. Waking her up, having her one last time meant that he'd be giving up. It didn't matter how badly he wanted her, and God knows he did, he still had a lot of fight left in him.

When the morning finally came, Lane got to work. He had bags under his red eyes and couldn't stop blinking from fatigue. He worked quickly as he made Jessie's breakfast. He finished laying out the toast, presenting it just right and perfect to get Jessie in the best possible mindset before slowly walking the tray up the stairs.

He sat at the end of their bed and matched Jessie's morning smile. He lay the tray at her side and crawled into bed next to her. He ran his hand through her hair, embracing her.

"Thanks baby," Jessie said. She rolled her head back just enough to share a kiss, then took another bite of bacon, "Did I forget it's my birthday or something?"

He held her tighter and felt the way her entire body shook when they laughed. He leaned his chin forward, wrapping around her shoulder and feeling her warmth.

"No," he admitted, "I just want you to be happy, and to know that no matter what, I've got this."

She stopped mid-bite.

"I talked to our lawyer," Lane lied, "Your ex is suing us."

He knew her well enough to know that saying your ex was already walking on egg shells. That was already enough to make her stiffen, her heart skip a beat. Saying Evan's name might have given her a seizure.

Lane listened to her breathing for a moment, holding her and waiting for her to calm down enough to get through this.

"He's been petitioning the court for more than a year," Lane said, "He's had no infractions, no abuse. He's got a steady job, housing, and now he wants his money back. The lawyer said we could fight it, but it'd be costly and our odds wouldn't look too good. It might be easier to just, sell the house, move on and get away."

Jessie's breathing had started to quicken.

"He suggested," Lane said slowly, "That we just be amicable, save ourselves all the heartache. Jessie. I could handle everything. Every time he wants to speak, he goes through me. You wouldn't have to say a single goddamn word to him."

Her hand was trembling as she forced another bite. "How much?" she asked, "If we tried to fight it, how much?"

Lane pictured his bank account and shuttered. The P.I. hadn't wasted any time getting paid, and the man who'd made the deepfake handed over the IP address for a cool two thousand. The idea of paying a fake lawyer for an unwinnable fight made him shutter. Even if they pulled from their retirement, they money would make a dent.

"Jessie," Lane said calmly, "He advised against it. Strongly advised against it."

She shook her head, the tears already starting to fall. She'd go months at a time, a perfect picture of happiness. All it ever took was a small reminder of her life before, and everything came crashing back down. It was like she was that same unshaven, unwashed shell of a woman she'd been after the divorce.

"After what he did," she said thickly, "Just the idea of him."

She sniffled, trembling.

"I'll handle it," Lane said again. In a perfect world, everything would fall into place and they'd have a few days a week with the house to themselves- free to do whatever they want.

"I never did anything wrong," she whimpered.

Aw shit, Lane thought, Here we go.

"I never did a single goddamn thing wrong," she said, "But I'm the one being punished? He fucks some other woman and I'm the one who loses?"

Lane kept holding her, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around her.

"It's not fair," he agreed, You shouldn't have let that idiot fuck you up the first place.

"All I ever wanted," she said, "Was to be a wife. A good one. I got married, got a job, a house. I. Did. Everything. Right."

He nuzzled his chin a little closer, driving up against her neck. Eventually she'd calm down, just agree and go along with everything.

He felt her, but his mind was still balancing a thousand different plates. The IP address was just the PI. Of course he knew where the video came from, but, for now at least, Evan was still in the dark. He could believe whatever he wanted, say whatever he had to say, but until he had evidence, there was only so much he could do. The bank account, idiotically, was becoming his biggest problem. Eventually Jessie would notice a few thousand had gone missing, even with him handling the finances. Maybe I can make up some bullshit story about a gambling addiction or something. It'd probably be easier to buy than the truth.

And then there was the investigation. If the government decided to call Jessie, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. The best he could do was beat her to the mail everyday, and trust the deepfaker knew a thing or two about cybersecurity.

As long as the government didn't track his spending (They shouldn't, he thought, I wasn't even with her back then. ) - they'd have no idea he'd done a thing. With them, at least, everything had to be relevant. They had to work through the warrant system. They weren't inbred heathens poking through his dirty garbage like a private investigator.

"We'll do what we can," Lane said distantly, "One day at a time."

Jessie forced herself to take another bite. Her eyes were a thousand miles away. All she wanted to do was wrap up in a blanket and hide away with Lane, shutting out the world until it stopped making her head hurt so much.

One day at a time. One problem at a time. Handle them all, deal with it. Don't let this glass castle fall.

Lane thought he'd made it through the day. He'd cuddled with Jessie until she stopped crying. He took the dishes down and washed them, cleaning them up and making the kitchen look spotless, just the way Jessie liked it.

He thought about ways he could make some extra money - maybe gamblings not the craziest idea - and thought of a few ways to stop Evan if he started getting too close. With someone as vindictive as him, he's bound to keep trying, even after getting told he's barking up the wrong tree. He'll probably get another PI, keep hunting. He's a lunatic.

But at least, he thought, he had to think, I've still got time. That's a long ways off, and I'm gonna be working the whole damn time.

Then the phone rang. It was like a premonition from the gods. He felt ice in his back, and the world felt like it zoomed out, the phone getting further away. He answered icily, already knowing exactly who it was.

Lane didn't have time. He had to act. Now.

"Lane," Evan's voice said, his words like gravel, "I know what you did."

Lane was running. He grabbed every phone in the house, and blocked Evan's number on all of them. No, he thought, That's not good enough. If he really wanted to get in touch with Jessie, he could just use another phone- I need a whitelist. Only approved numbers- her boss, me, that is ALL that gets to call her.

Lane didn't care if Jessie was watching. He didn't care about her worried look, the confusion bubbling up inside of her.

What if he tried to come here? Lane thought, Should we move? Go on a vacation?

He glanced at Jessie. If time really was running out, he wouldn't waste it. It's not giving up, he told himself, It's a precaution. She's the most perfect woman in the world, and she's MINE. I have to have her.

She kept curled up in the bed, watching him with worried eyes. Lane looked delirious, nearly sprinting around the house, drawing all the blinds shut, triple checking to make sure the doors were locked.

"Is everything ok?" Jessie asked, scooting toward him.

Her voice shook him out of his frenzy. He slammed the door shut behind him and started towards her, already pulling his pants off. He threw himself forward, scatterbrained and barely there. He almost tripped over his pants as he held Jessie by the back of her head.

"You're the most perfect, beautiful woman in the entire goddamn world," he said. His lips shot forward so fast it was like he was trying to head butt her. He jabbed his tongue down her mouth, wrestling her tongue as hard, and fast, and passionate as he could.

Jessie fell back to the bed, laughing, "Where's this coming from?"

She was in her usual weekend pajamas, an old ripped t-shirt with paint stains, and sun-faded pajama bottoms. To Lane, it was the sexiest lingerie he'd ever seen.

He grabbed her shoulders and held her down, knowing full well he had to savor the moment. He grabbed her thighs and forced them down, spread wide on top of the bed.

"You trying to tell me something?" she laughed, shimmying her hips.

All the times Lane had been with Jessie, it'd never been like this. He'd always taken every second to make sure Jessie felt safe and comfortable, with enough foreplay to guarantee she was in the mood.

Today wasn't about Jessie. It was about him.

He didn't know where to kiss. He wanted to pin her down, tell the world she was his. He wanted to kiss her, grip her so tightly she'd scream in ecstasy. He wanted to slap her. He wanted to scream at the world, or start driving to Evan's house and deal with-

No, he stopped himself, I'm here now. Savor the goddamn moment.

Lane was squeezing her tits so tightly the skin turned white. He pulled her pajamas so hard the fabric tore and Jessie protested. He didn't give too shits.

"Hey," Jessie tried, "Mister Manly man. Ease up on the grip."

He kissed her again, like a man possessed. His lips crawled their way up her neck, savoring every inch of her body. He grabbed her shirt and pulled it up, tucking it under her chin. He rocked forward, straddling his knees across her body as he set his manhood down across her stomach. He leaned forward, feeling her curves against him as he lay flat, already rock hard.