The Killers: A Love Story

Thus she was either a Zen master of compartmentalization. Or she was innocent of the charges.

Unfortunately however, the seed of doubt had been planted and it was rapidly running away with me.

As a result, I felt compelled to get to the bottom of things - if nothing more than to preserve my own sanity.

It was nuts really – that I had overheard a random conversation in a bar 700 miles from home and immediately leapt to the conclusion that my wife was stabbing me in the back.

But that is where this newfound case of paranoia had taken me.

The thing that was driving my reaction was the "all-in" stakes that I had in our relationship.

Marriage has a lot of different components, not just sex.

There is the social bond. In that the other person is your most trusted friend. Your wife is the one human being who will never sell you out.

Of course trust is contingent on mutual honesty. And lying is the shortcut to perdition.

Then there is the knowledge that the intimacy that a man and a woman share is exclusive.

It would be the loss of that exclusivity that would be the rock on which our marriage would founder.

I was just not willing to share Janet's special self with any other man.

It wasn't a matter of male ego. I felt like we had a spiritual bond that couldn't possibly include a third party.

If it did than our marriage was not what I understood it to be. The way I felt we had to be a binary couple, or we had nothing.

I thought I had done everything I could to make her happy. And if I had failed her in some way I was ready and willing to do whatever it took to rectify things.

But she had to bring her problem to me, not take it outside the marriage.

And if there was discontent there was no justification for NOT sharing THAT with me.

Moreover, if she had inexplicably fallen in "love"- like those two cretins said she had - then she owed me the respect of telling me that she was no longer mine, not sneaking behind my back.

Of course her giving herself to another person was an up-front deal-breaker and I am sure that Janet knew that.

The next step was obvious. I had to color in the entire picture.

I got back in the late morning and took a taxi along the GW Parkway from DCA to Georgetown.

I knew that Janet was at work and would be home for a while. So I would have the time to lay the groundwork.

I'm a methodical guy and very focused when I am on-task. So my first step was to gather all of Mr Whit Reynolds' low-hanging fruit.

I approached the challenge like any other zero-knowledge exploit.

I am a hacker by trade, although I call myself a pen-tester in polite company. It is a particular set of skills that I have honed since puberty.

And I am very well paid for my abilities.

But I also hack for personal reasons. This one was personal. In fact it was more like a crusade.

First, I did a deepweb search. It took a total of twenty minutes and $39 to know more about Mr. Whitley Reynolds than he probably knew about himself.

Most of it was the kind of uninteresting detritus that clogs everybody's life, like all the places he ever lived and the names of all of his relatives.

The neatly printed report said that he was married with two kids, a boy 4 and a girl 1.

He was living in Chevy Chase with a woman named Mary who was clearly his age, both were 33.

He DID have a law degree. And he had passed the bar in Maryland on his second try.

He had been in private practice for six years and prior to that he had worked three years for the Baltimore DA.

There were no derogatories on his record but that didn't mean much since he WAS a lawyer. And lawyers know how to bury complaints.

He seemed to specialize in financial management services for a select clientele. His clients of record spent a lot of their time being indicted.

THAT was an eye-opener.

But I supposed that having clients who are criminals was not too inexplicable, given the fact that Reynolds was a criminal defense attorney.

And it probably explained his need for Janet's services, at least the services that her MBA certified her to perform.

The other services didn't require a degree - just her beautiful body.

Janet had spent the past nine years of our marriage working as a hired gun for lawyers.

Just like me, her skills could either help people or wreak a lot of havoc, depending on which side of "The Force" she happened to be channeling.

She could ferret out the most intricate fraud scheme, as well as perpetrate one herself if she wanted to.

We both made a bundle of money selling our expertise. But there have been a number of times when I wondered why we wore the white hat. Since it would be nigh-unto impossible to catch either of us.

I knew my motivation. I can't handle guilt. So I'd suck at being a criminal.

I just assumed Janet was honest for the same reason. But thanks to my recent epiphany I was beginning to wonder about that.

Maybe she was a better play-actor than I thought she was.

I felt like I knew the shape of my prey. But I really had to access his computer to pin his ass to my personal mounting board.

It was just after lunchtime so I harnessed up my fully weaponized canine for a little war-dogging.

Janet loves dogs. She loves them so much that she occasionally brings strays home. That is how I acquired Buster.

Buster is big and burly and he slobbers a lot. He is also very, very scary looking. Consequently, nobody wanted to adopt him.

I felt sorry for the poor old fellow. So he's my dog now.

There is no more gentle, loyal and loving creature than Buster. But, he's so intimidating that I originally thought that Janet might have accidently rescued a mountain lion.

I got Buster's leash, and gear. It was a nice spring day in DC, the humidity was only 99%. So I planned to take a walk.

Buster was very excited. He knew what we were going to do.

In order to pry into Mr. Whitley Reynold's life I had to access the dude's system. I could crack him. But it would take close proximity to make the linkage.

And most folks don't take kindly to strangers parked in their driveway while they ping the family router.

I could drive slowly past. But being out in the street would give me a range problem. 802.11 is not super powerful.

And a Wi-Fi sniper on the roof of the car would be a little too obvious.

So the closer the better.

Because I do this for entertainment, I concocted an approach to wardriving that lets me get very up-close-and-personal with my target, without anybody being the wiser.

I was able to do that because Buster is only slightly smaller than a Shetland pony. So he can easily walk wearing a harness with 40 pounds of cracking gear strapped to it.

Of course the casual observer would just think I was one of those aging hippies who harnessed his big dog to carry water and a backpack when they were out walking.

I had installed a small but very powerful laptop in Buster's pack. It ran Netstumbler and a few other conventional cracking goodies like Wireshark and Brutus. His harness was the antenna.

I also added some special things that I had obtained from a couple of my Ukrainian friends.

What??!! You don't realize that hackers practically invented the internet community?!!!

We would walk down any street - just a boy and his dog - and I could monitor all of the home networks until I pinged the right router.

Then I would push a little button in the handle of Buster's leash and my gear would lock the target SSID into an evil twin.

Once I had deployed that malicious gem I would own its network and all of its devices.

And I could do the rest of my snooping via 4G from the convenience of my own home.

We drove the half hour up to the Whitley neighborhood and both of us got out for our walk.

Buster seems to know when we are war-dogging. He normally pulls like crazy. But when we are war-dogging he meanders along sniffing everything.

He even looks over his shoulder occasionally like he is saying, "Are you getting a signal boss??? Or should I go slower."

Anybody who owns a dog knows that they talk to you. Buster reminds me of the big black guy in The Green Mile.

Anyhow, as we approached his house the gear that my war-doggy was carrying pinged and acquired the Reynold's router.

It took Brutus maybe 30 seconds to crack their WAP and I got the green light that said the evil twin had been configured and had overridden the home router's signal.

My twin was now running the Reynold's network.

I pushed the release and the evil twin popped off the harness. I bent down, picked it up, and casually tossed it in the shrubbery in the front of the house.

When it is lying in tall-grass, or bushes the casing is basically undetectable.

We casually walked back to the car. Our job was done.

It was 3:00 and Janet would be home soon. So I got out my special laptop. It's the one with all of the stuff that I buy from cracking sites for bitcoins not money.

Nobody in their right mind would buy something from a darkweb hacker site with their Visa.

I confirmed that the Reynold's system was connected to the twin, wide-open and awaiting my tender mercies.

I didn't need to download anything since it was all there for me to read. But I DID dump their trash into a file on my computer. Civilians don't realize that their secret stuff doesn't really go away when they hit the "delete" key.

I would go over that later.

I also started a mirror recording of any system activity that went on from that point on. Just in case somebody was smart enough to really wipe things.

If there was anything happening between Reynolds and Janet I had the hard evidence. I just hadn't found it yet.

But I would.

I was also planning to Bluebug my wife's phone during the short time between when she opened the door and when I kissed her hello

Then I intended to RAT her computer as soon as she fell asleep.

Essentially, by tomorrow this time I was going to know everything that she knew and a whole lot more.

Because every aspect of her lover's personal life was going to be mine.

Was this a morally bankrupt thing to do?

Absolutely!!!

But there were two mitigating circumstances.

First, I could do it.

And second, nobody would know.

Does that sound like the cheater's mantra, "you bettcha!!!"

But I was not the person purportedly fucking around in the marriage.

And as far as I was concerned I owed it to both of us to get to the bottom of any allegations of straying.

For fifteen years Janet has come straight home to me like clockwork. Unlike other working women she has never gone out for drinks with the gang.

I have always considered that little trait to be a sign of how innately valuable her marriage was to her.

So I almost felt guilty port-scanning her smart phone from the den and dropping the man-in-the-middle application on it.

Then she came around the corner into the den.

She is still so absolutely gorgeous that she takes my breath away.

She walked up to where I was sitting at my desk and threw her arms around me. The kiss said that she had really missed me. And it promised how much she was going to show me later.

She is a beautiful little woman but it is her inner self that makes her special.

"Kittenish" might be the best way to sum her up.

Even at age thirty-eight she's a stunningly attractive bundle of perfectly proportioned features, high spirits, lighthearted fun and deceptively wide-eyed innocence.

As a couple, she is sunlight and I am – well, I don't exactly know what I am. The word "nerdy" comes to mind.

Janet's boundless energy and playfulness have always made her a perfect counterpoint to my slightly introverted self. And we fit together perfectly when we are in public.

I never try to steal her spotlight. And she never wants to be out of its glare.

Janet's bantering skills also fill in the holes when we socialize. As a result, most people think that she is a big flirt and that I am too clueless to notice.

I don't mind flirtatious if I feel like our spiritual bond is solid. And I have never had the slightest reason to doubt that - until now.

She had bought sushi carryout from Kotobuki and she spread out a couple of plates and sat down opposite me while she divvied up the spoils.

She said, "How was your trip?"

I said, "Enlightening."

She looked puzzled and said, "How so?"

I said, "I learned something there that has me working on a new project. It's my top priority and so I will be spending all of my time on it until I get it resolved."

She looked at me brightly, without a hint of guilt and worry, and said, "That's nice. I know that you always need somebody to throw a ball for you to chase.

"How come you didn't call last night?"

I looked at her. God she was hot!!!

I said, "I was wresting with some things, nothing I can tell you about. I don't want to talk about it until I got my mind around the problem."

She said, still without a smidgen of concern, "Well, it was okay anyhow. I worked until almost midnight on something that I have been doing as part of my engagement with Whit Reynolds."

That shot a thunderbolt of angst through me. She was prattling on and she didn't see it.

She said, "I am beginning to get concerned about that whole situation. I am thinking that this is my last trip with him.

"He wants to go to Miami early tomorrow for a meeting and I am going along.

"But there are some things that just don't add up – and I know how to add things up because I'm a CPA."

That was accompanied by a loving smile that lit up the room.

My heart sank. I said - trying to keep the hopefulness out of my voice, "Than maybe you shouldn't go."

In the meantime she was intently dipping a California roll in the soy sauce. Did I catch a hint of hesitancy?

She said, talking mainly to the roll, "I have a contract with him and I need this last trip to honor all of the conditions. So I have to go.

"But I am severing all connection with him after that."

Was that a coded message that she was going to dump him as a lover?

"And I am going to spend all of the money that I make from this engagement taking us on a trip.

"I want to connect with you like we have never connected before. And I want that connection to be very deep – if you catch my drift. How about a cruise?"

I was continuing the charade. I said cheerily, "We'll see when you get back."

I was pretty sure that ship had already sailed. She definitely had some "'splainin" to do.

She digested my statement and decided that I was just being my usual dismissive self. We lead a complicated life and a long cruise is something that would take planning.

She said, urgency creeping into her voice, "There's one other thing. My body has been aching for you all day. So if you don't mind, I need you to do something for me before we go to sleep."

Was this a little pity sex for the poor clueless husband?

In my mind it didn't matter whether it was or not. It was probably going to be my last chance to make love to my only friend and companion.

Because, tomorrow was definitely going to be another day.

She is only five-two. But there are times when it looks like half of that is slim shapely leg.

She rose gracefully and walked around to my side of the table. I stood. She took my hand and wordlessly led me toward our master bedroom.

She is a little woman but very muscular and round and the sight of those buns twitching under her expensive alpaca jersey dress and those full round calves flexing as she walked in her four inch heels was pushing any concerns about her fidelity to the back of my mind.

When we got to the bedroom she turned abruptly and threw her arms around my neck and plastered herself against me. That was quite a gymnastic feat given the fact that I am well over a foot taller than she is.

She opened her mouth in a way that invited me into her inner self.

It is something that she does that is more intimate than a kiss. It is like she is totally consumed by me.

She also has one other trait. It is one that I have never heard of before in a woman.

When she kisses me like she was doing she almost immediately cums.

It is the oddest sensation. First you get her totally hot mouth and then she begins breathing incredibly rapidly through her nose and you get a little whimper and a groan.

It is like the simple intimacy of a kiss kicks her into orgasm. I know it is the sudden close connection that does it for her, not the physical sensation. But it is a sign of how totally involved she is with our lovemaking.

It is like there is no other reality for her except our intimate joining.

She broke the kiss and stood back gasping with desire. Her eyes were so stoned with lust that they looked like frosty blue marbles.

The dress came off over her head. Then she literally flung herself backward on the bed.

As she did that she raised her legs in that classic woman's pose legs up, bent ninety degrees at the waist, with her knees held together, and she peeled off the black cheekinis she was wearing.

Meanwhile I was wasting no time clearing my decks for action. Normally we do a lot of foreplay but that was not the vibe this evening.

She wanted it without delay. From where I was standing I could smell her arousal. And as she dropped her panties off one extended foot she was underscoring her need. She was muttering over and over, "fuck me – you have to fuck me – you have to give it to me NOW!!!"

Looking at that little Venus with her dark auburn hair and her legs waving around in the air knees still together I was inspired to take two steps forward, seize her knees against my chest and throw both of her feet over one shoulder.

Then I hoisted her up so that only her upper back was were resting on the bed and impaled her. She was so hot and wet I almost came as I slid into her virgin-tight pussy.

She let out a loud groan of satisfaction and her insides began to boil, clenching and milking with insane energy.

I let go of her knees and without shifting her position she spread her legs outrageously wide and wrapped them around my waist boa constrictor style.

I was thinking, "Women! The flexible sex!"

She was situated on the bed with her arms over her head and those huge tits flailing in multiple directions as I humped into her. They are so big and heavy that they were out of control even though she had not bothered to take her sexy black bra off.

The way she was responding, with abandoned moans and cries, I knew that this was going to be a very short one. So I started just pounding her.

The wet slap-slap-slap went on for only a few minutes. Then she shrieked and pulled the covers of the bed up so that she was biting on them like a wounded soldier biting on a bullet.

It was clear that she was doing that just to hold the screaming down.

At that point she started to writhe like a snake making unintelligible grunting noises as her insides began to fizz like a shaken up can of soda.

Our mutual sweat lubricated her body as she thrashed underneath me.

It was evident that her orgasm was so powerful that it was almost painful to her. Her mouth was wide open in a scream that probably only dogs could hear. And she was having a serious problem breathing.

That was because every muscle in her rib-cage and belly seemed to be locked in a frenzy of cumming.

She had hauled out her own breasts and was mauling them and pulling the nipples.

Then she was just yelling over and over, "Cumming-cumming-cumming- OH MY GOD!!!"

Finally, she collapsed. It was clear that her powerful little body had reached its limits.

While all of that was going on I was beginning to feel an orgasm approaching from a galaxy long ago and far away. It was so intense that there were stars when it hit. And I felt like I was never going to stop pumping into her.