by Carter Blake
We all get online and do our part. I alter the security features of the firm we’re trying to infiltrate while the others gain unauthorized data to all their systems.
We successfully get in and get out quick. And then we donate the money to the outreach program I’m so fond of. They’re never gonna know where it came from. It’s gonna look like a large, sizable donation from an unknown donor. The plan is perfect.
It takes us all night to do it, but we get it done. Knowing that the special program now has the funds to continue makes me happy. I sleep well all night. I may be cheap in terms of decor but I always invest in good sheets.
I wake sleepily around noon. I make my usual black coffee and log on to my favorite websites. Then I check my calendar and realize I’m supposed to volunteer at the outreach program in two days. I’m hesitant to make contact, but I have to inform Marcus about the date and time.
I do via text message. I make it short and sweet.
Meet me at the convenience store around the corner in two days at noon for the volunteer work.
Instead of texting me back, he calls me. That’s just like him. Once again, his name lights up on my screen. And I get excited despite my best intentions not to.
“Hi. Are we really gonna do this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I do it every month. Normally twice a month at least. I know it’s probably not that different from what you do, but it’ll still be fun.”
“What is the attire?” he asks.
Attire? Isn’t he supposed to know what all this is about? And the fact that he just said the word attire makes me think that Marcus is more upscale than I might’ve thought.
Then again, maybe he isn’t one of the hands-on social workers at his organization. I guess I just assumed he was, which is stupid, given that the guy drives a fancy car. No, he’s probably one of the upper managements, if not the director.
He doesn’t brag about it, though. Which I think is cute, how humble he is.
“You should dress in very plain clothes. I’m picturing a very simple shirt and jeans. You need to be comfortable and to lose the suit. Okay?” I say.
“No problem. I can’t wait to see you, Katy.”
His words cause me to feel a certain amount of warmth and elation at the thought of seeing him. It’s been many days apart, and even though I’ve vowed to myself that this will be the last time, I have to admit I’m excited to see Marcus.
Pulling away from him in the end will be so hard, especially since I’ll have to do it with no explanation. He’s gonna think I’ve abandoned him or I hate him or something.
But none of that should bother me now. I have one more day left with him, and after that, I need to cut it off.
On the day of our volunteer work, Marcus meets me around the corner.
He pulls up in his luxe Mercedes, but when he gets out, he’s wearing a faded t-shirt and ripped jeans, I have to say I’m as attracted to him as ever. He really is so handsome that he could be dressed in a suit or old clothes, and he’ll still be hot.
I approach him and he gives me a hug, picking me up and twirling me around in the process.
Being back in his arms feels so good. It feels like home. A home I’ve never known.
I push these thoughts out of my mind and think about the task at hand.
He puts me down, and I say, “I need you to know that today is gonna be a different experience for you. You’re going to see and experience things that you never thought were possible. I just want you to be prepared.”
He grabs my hand and says, “I trust you to show me the ropes, Katy. I can handle anything. You know that.”
Indeed, I do know that he can handle anything. He’s the strongest and smartest man I’ve ever known. He’s got me smitten in so many ways that I refuse to admit to myself.
We ride in his car all the way to the destination. I give him directions about where to go, and we have a nice conversation before edging into the bad part of town.
Marcus
Unclothed and unsupervised children are running everywhere.
People walk by wearing dirty clothes.
There are women shouting at each other amidst a slew of hanging clothes and dirt and grime.
I feel like vomiting because of the unpleasant smell of the place. This is the kind of scene I never would go to in my wildest dreams.
I wish I could back out, but I'm already here. And I need to be here to earn Katy's trust. Somehow I just have to suck it up and get through this day.
I try to look good to Katy. I don't want her thinking that I can't handle this. I can handle anything that I put my mind to.
She walks around the place like she's completely comfortable here. She introduces me to some of the other volunteers, and I have to admit, they seem like nice people.
I enjoy stepping back though and watching her interact with everyone. She looks so alive and happy while playing with the children. I can't help but wonder how she can be this motivated to be here.
She doesn't have to come here every month, and if I were her, I wouldn't do it. It's absolutely the filthiest place on earth.
It's notable that she wants to come here to help, but I honestly can't imagine doing this on my own.
She pulls me over to me to meet a volunteer named Sylvia.
"Sylvia is our outreach coordinator," Katie says with pride. "She's responsible for a lot of the good things that have been done around here."
I shake Sylvia's hand. "Nice to meet you. I can tell there's a lot of work to be done here, and it's commendable that you've found this place and thought to help it."
"Thank you, Marcus. The more community involvement we can have going on here, the better it will be for the people. None of this squalor is their fault. It's the position they were put in, and it's hard to rise from the ashes when there's virtually no ladder or escape plan. We intend to change all that with our program."
This woman really is competent, and so are all the volunteers. It seems like there's kind of a sense of family going on down here between the people and the outreach coordinators. I guess I can see, based on that, why Katie would want to be involved.
She leads me to the children where I get on my knees, and I soon find them crawling all over me. As much as I want to hate it, I warm to the sight of the children. Who wouldn't?
By the end of the day, we have a game of soccer going on, and I've forgotten the smell and the filth. I immerse myself in the surroundings and find that I'm meeting genuine people.
My humanity comes forth, and I realize these are people who deserve help. No matter what, they should have access to basic human rights and dignity.
The fact that Katy brought me here reveals a different side of her—a compassionate side I never knew about.
It's a happy change from the women I usually date who are so superficial. Most of them are obsessed with makeup and fashion, getting their nails done, and reading magazines. Not Katy. Even though she's a hacker, she has many layers going on.
I want to unpeel her like an onion to get to the very core of who she is. And yet the elephant in the room stands between us—the fact that she's planning to rob me.
As long as this untruth exists, no real connection can be sought.
At the end of the day, as the sun edges down over the old and cracked buildings, we get back in my car and drive to her apartment. I'm planning to just drop her off.
"Thank you for getting me out of my element," I say as we're driving.
"You're welcome," she says. "I think everybody should see what we witnessed today. Helping people is not the same until you see the absolute sadness that they're living in. Don't you think?"
"Yes, I definitely agree, Katy. Thank you for showing me that place. It forever opened my eyes,” I say. And she looks satisfied, if not elated, with my answer.
We arrive at her apartment building, and I'm surprised when she asks me to come in. I think it's a big step for Katy and that she's already starting to trust me, which i
s good.
I park my Mercedes in front of her building and secretly hope that it doesn't get stolen. We're not the worst part of town, but we're not the best either. I guess volunteering hasn't changed me completely.
I follow her beautiful ass up to her apartment. She looks good in jeans...she looks good everything.
She fumbles with some keys and lets me in. It might be old and she might be a hacker, but her place is clean and tidy. It's not at all what I envisioned. There are no clothes on the floor or any takeout food lying about.
She has just the basic amount of furniture. In one corner, her laptop and other expensive computer equipment are displayed, but that's the only thing of consequence she has in here. That and the painting I gave her. It's virtually the only decor or color she has in this place.
"Nice place," I say rather dishonestly.
"You don't have to say that," she says to me. "I've seen your posh apartment. I know this is a lot different from the space that you live in. But I don't need a lot of things."
"I can see that," I say, wondering where to sit in the absence of barstools.
"Can I cook you dinner?" she says. "I have some trout in the refrigerator that I can cook up, and I do have some beer."
I laugh and agree.
"Trout and beer? Feels like we're camping."
"Hey," she says, "it's simple but good."
There's virtually nowhere to sit except for the bed. So I go there and watch her cook in her tiny kitchen. The duvet is soft, and the sheets seem like they are of good quality. She doesn't have much, but the things she does have are pretty nice.
Today has been a startling day. I've been shown so many things that I didn't know existed. She took me to the slums of the city and now to her apartment. It's been all I can do to hold back my judgment.
Her life is so different from my own that I wonder how she'll react if I ever show her who I really am. Will she be as uncomfortable in my penthouse as I am here? Will she think me selfish and vain?
She will think that I'm entirely into money, which I kind of have been until I met her.
She cracks open a cold beer and brings it to me.
"Tell me about the place we went to today," I say.
She's frying the fish over her little stove and cooking up some rice and vegetables. It's a simple dish, but I like the fact that she's exerting effort for me.
"The place we went to today used to be a much better place. A certain bank bought the land and forced the people there to go. They tore the place apart. It's been empty and like that for a long time. Outreach programs help the people, and they're really the only chance they have for hope."
She's pulling at my heartstrings a little bit, mentioning the bank and how they took over the land. This is virtually all my company does all day every day. We've taken over so many spaces that it's hard to count.
At this moment, I'm very glad that Katie doesn't know the truth about me. And yet I do know the truth about her, and there's a treachery that lies between us still. It will never go away...unless, of course, somehow it comes out.
Will it ever come out? What will happen then?
Instead of torturing myself by thinking of the day when she will learn the truth, that I've been spying on her this entire time, I bury those thoughts.
I pull Katie away from her cooking and onto the bed. I start to kiss her and to undress her, doing the things I've been dying to make good on all day.
Katy
I dress the trout with herbs and spices.
I don’t like cooking fancy, because food is usually the last thing on my mind when I’m working. Plus I grew up poor, and I had to make do with few ingredients.
I wonder what Marcus thinks of this…me cooking for him, my sparse apartment, everything.
Compared to his elegant apartment, my place must seem like a very bland box. While he has art adorning every wall, tasteful furniture from the likes of Pottery Barn and Crate and Barrel, and even a full set of dishware...my place is decidedly less designed.
I have two plates, one for me and one for a guest. I have virtually never had another person over, so Marcus is actually the first person I can consider to be a guest.
My place is sparsely decorated because I’m always ready to run, ready to move, just in case my identity is ever discovered.
Hacking is no easy job. It’s highly illegal. Especially since I’m stealing millions of dollars from huge corporations. There’s no point in dressing up my apartment or in leaving more clues that need to be had as to my existence.
I’m used to living as a ghost. I’m naturally invisible to society, and that’s the way I like it.
Growing up on the streets taught me about how important it is to remain invisible. The cops came down hard on the poor neighborhoods. I learned at a very early age to just keep to myself and remain under the radar.
It’s a good thing I don’t care about pretenses, otherwise I might feel embarrassed about my place. As it is, I don’t mind.
I could be a multimillionaire by now if I kept all the money that I stole, or even just some of it. But money doesn’t impress me.
“Do you like your fish well done?” I ask him.
“Whatever you’re having.”
“I would apologize for the state of my apartment, but I really don’t care,” I say.
“I can see that.”
He doesn’t seem totally surprised by my living situation. Activism doesn’t pay well, after all.
He gets up and comes to stand behind me in the kitchen. I’m trying to concentrate on frying his fish, but when he buries his face in my neck from behind, the thrill of having him touch me like that sends waves of shivers down my body.
He turns off the stove, leaving the fish to fend for itself, and pulls me towards the bed. I’m at least glad that I make it a rule to have nice bedding.
He pulls me down on the soft duvet and kisses me. We make out for a long time, and I find that I’m even more attracted to him after having seen how he did today.
The fact that he has a sense of compassion for other people is such a turn-on. It’s my life’s work to help those people, so having seen Marcus be so natural in that setting made me want him more.
He pulls my hands up above my head and says, “Keep them there.”
He proceeds to undress me with his teeth. He pulls layer upon layer of clothing off of my body so that I’m spread eagle before him wearing absolutely nothing.
“Wow,” he marvels. “You’re absolutely fucking gorgeous.”
I’m naked and vulnerable, subject to his touch and his every whim and desire.
I’m his to take. And one look into his explosive eyes that are alight with lust makes me understand that this is going to be an experience I won’t ever forget.
He takes off his shirt, and I admire the view of his rippling abs and chiselled muscles that are carved and defined in every which way. He’s so handsome, and I can tell there’s also a fire burning within him that I also feel.
He brings one leg of mine up to his shoulder and proceeds to trickle small kisses down my ankle, down my leg, until his face is between my thighs and I’m quaking with need.
I move my hands down and so I can grip the sheets in pure expectation, but he pulls up and says, “Don’t do that. I want your arms above your head. Keep them there.”
I reluctantly do as he says, and I try to grip the headboard instead. There’s a certain satisfaction that comes with obeying him. I would never obey anybody else that wasn’t him. He has this power over me, and somehow it feels right to follow his lead, because I know that ultimately, he’ll lead me to having a wild orgasm.
I hold the headboard and arch my back as he goes to town on my pussy. I’m wet―and getting wetter by the second as his tongue plunges in and out.
He expertly licks my clit, and I swoon in pleasure. He keeps up a steady beat, and the intoxicating vibration is what I need to release.
I come hard into his mouth, and he licks up my juices as
though it’s some kind of nectar. He’s ravenous for me, spurred on by my hot desire, which he just witnessed and pulled from my body.
Every time he makes me come, I know that I venture a little deeper into unsafe territory because it allows him to know how very badly I want him to consume me.
In these moments, there’s no façade or trickery that I can keep up. He sees all my truth, and there’s no hiding from him the fact that he’s the focus of all my arousal.
I am especially vulnerable in this position being spread out so wide before his hungry mouth.
He plunges two fingers inside of me, and I feel another wave of climax start to rise. He has me beholden to him, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. In this moment, I would do anything to ensure this next orgasm goes off without a hitch.
So when he says, “Tell me you’re mine. Say it.” I don’t hesitate or stumble on my words. I just give him what he wants.
“Yes. Fuck yes! I’m yours,” I cry.
Once he’s satisfied with my answer, he circles his two big fingers around the walls of my cunt making me cry out in glorious agony for more.
Then he smiles darkly while pressing those perfect fingers over my G-spot―and I’m toast.
I come fiercely and explode all over his hand. My pussy tightens, and yet he keeps on pleasuring me, forcing my G-spot to erupt again in another round of mini-orgasms that roll one into another.
No man has made me come like this. It’s an experience I’ll never forget. My body is convulsing, and I never knew it was possible to have this deep and vigorous of an orgasm.
My whole body is peaking with arousal. I feel like I could continue to come for an eternity. Waves upon waves of pleasure force me to shut my eyes tight and try to take in the reality of being so thoroughly fucked…
I feel like I could pass out―and I nearly do.
At last, he removes his expert fingers from inside of me. Then he traces them on my lips, forcing me to taste myself. I suck at his fingers and want for more.
Even though my body is still wavering in silent delight of having a delightful climax, I find myself always thinking of his giant cock and how badly I want it inside of me.
