I'm waiting now. Sitting here with my Colt M1911 in one hand and a shot glass full of some VERY expensive Scotch in the other. Waiting to be taken into custody. I set down the empty shot glass and pick up one of the General's cigars, and light it up. I puff on it a bit, and the flavor and nicotine soothe my nerves. Yes, I'm waiting for the flashing lights and sirens to blare as the police pull up outside. Why, you might ask? Well, that tale actually starts years ago, when I met and fell in love with Paula Hanson.

We were both in the Army at the time. I was in my second year of my second four year hitch, and had achieved the rank of Staff Sergeant (SSG). I was Active Duty, with Airborne and Ranger tabs on my sleeve.

Paula was a Captain in the California National Guard, with a degree in Journalism. We met at the club on Ft. Irwin one night, and hit it off, even though she was a part-time officer, and I worked for a living. All I know is that with her gorgeous blue eyes and dark flowing brunette hair, I was smitten.

Me? I'm John Blakely, and I had saved enough money during my Enlistments to go to College at UCLA with the help of the G.I. Bill. Paula, as it turned out, had gone UCLA as well, and she still had her house nearby. She gave me her address and cell number, and told me that when I got out, to come stay with her while I was going to school.

God, she's a tornado 'tween the sheets! During my four years at UCLA, getting my own degree in Computer Science, we were inseparable. For some odd reason, she loved me, and I, for more obvious reasons, loved her with all my heart, soul, and being.

I won't lie and say I wasn't tempted to stray occasionally. Hell, I was no angel. But with Paula, I knew that she was the best thing to ever happen to me.

Fast forward a bit, and we still didn't have any kids. Not that I didn't want them, but she was still in the middle of her career, and I wasn't going to stand in her way. Hell, she made exactly the same as I did. I took my degree and got a great job at a worldwide tech firm.

When Paula got the enviable task of writing a well known General's biography, she had just been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel in the Cali National Guard. Hey, let's just say that Jack Nicholson was right in "A Few Good Men". I hadn't truly lived until I had a blowjob from a superior officer.

Oh, and before you go screaming "FRATERNIZATION!" at me, we were NOT IN DIRECT CHAIN OF COMMAND when we first started dating, and it was prior to the changes in the UCMJ that happened in at the turn of the millenium.

The problems started when Paula had to go to Afghanistan to get General Peterson's accounts for the book. She was gone for what should have been two weeks, and ended up being gone for an entire month.

When she got home, she seemed more reserved and distant. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that she had seen some stuff over there that really rattled her. Having seen combat, I could relate, and held her close.

We made love that night, and after that, she seemed to come back to me. She was once again the Paula I fell in love with.

A couple of years later, we moved to Washington, D.C., and that was when our lives really got turned upside down. First, I was headhunted for the CIA, and put in charge of their main office's IT division in Langley, Virginia. I was now making better money than I was in the private sector.

Paula was ecstatic that I got the job, and she was also ecstatic to be working alongside General David Peterson again, gaining more fodder for his biography. The General had been appointed as Director of the CIA, so we were working almost side by side. I got to meet him at a social function that I went to with Paula, and he seemed like a good guy.

Well, some things shouldn't be taken at face value. That night was when my suspicions started.

I also met the General's wife, who was a very sweet lady, if a bit on the heavy side. SHE, I could take at face value, at least. She loved her husband, just as I loved my wife.

No, the suspicions started when they danced four dances in a row, and his hand drifted downward to Paula's sweet ass during a slow number. That was it, and I didn't give a fuck if he was head of the fuckin' CIA, I'd had enough.

I walked out onto the dance floor and cut in as graciously as possible. In other words, I had a fist clenched and was more than ready to deck the sonuvabitch if he didn't allow me to dance with my wife. Luckily for both of us, he handed her off to me, and I let her know in low, but no uncertain terms, that what I saw of him fondling her ass was not cool.

Paula just laughed it off, and said he was just an old letch. I tried to laugh it off too, but found that the first seeds of doubt in her faithfulness and his honor had already been sown.

Paula and I really had it out that night when we got home.

"Sweetheart, I am sick of that guy taking liberties with you on the dance floor! I don't give a rat's ass if he's head of the Goddamn CIA! That does NOT give him the right to feel up another man's wife, especially MY wife!" I said between gritted teeth.

"Stop being jealous, baby! He was just flirting." Paula smirked. She might not have been taking it seriously, but I was.

"No, Paula. I am not just being jealous. And you did nothing to stop him or discourage him. What does that tell me right there?" I said with some malice in my voice. Yeah, I was jealous. But I was also seeing some stuff that I really didn't like, and they seemed to be rubbing my nose in it!

"It should tell you to trust your wife, John." Paula was pulling the trust card. Ok, no problem.

"I do trust you, sweetheart. I just don't trust him." I shook my head slowly.

"Well, he's your boss, so you'd better trust him!" Paula stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes, and that reminded me of one reason I fell in love with her in the first place. I laughed in spite of myself, and she came into my arms, kissing me passionately. "I think it's sweet that you were ready to deck your big boss to defend my honor."

"That's what I do, honey." I grinned, then kissed her again just as passionately as she'd kissed me.

We fell into bed that night, and made wild passionate love to each other. I knew she had picked up on my mood when I'd cut in on the dance, and I think she got a thrill out of it. I knew I could take the old man in a straight up fight, if it came to that. I still ran PT every morning before work, and hit the gym three to four times a week to keep in shape.

The great thing about running in the morning was that Paula ran with me, and looked damn good doing it. She kept in shape too, and I was definitely enjoying the view of my wife's spectacular ass whenever I would "fall behind" during our runs. Her ass in those shorts was stellar, to say the least.

The only woman I knew with an ass better than hers was Talisa Martin, a member of my Cyber Warfare team at the CIA. As IT director, I wasn't just a tech geek. I was also a fully trained operative within a year. My background as a Ranger helped with that. Cyber Warfare Division handled not just computer hacking, but also other ... activities, so to speak. Activities that often required a competent covert field operative.

Talisa is black, and reminds me a bit of Beyoncé, only without the long blonde hair. Tali, as she likes to be called, wears her hair short and in a pixie cut, while keeping her hair its natural black color. Her skin was the same caramel color as Beyoncé's, though. And her lips ... OH MY GOD, those lips!

Before you go saying what a dog I am, let me just say that I was happily married, and was NOT about to cheat on my lovely wife. I was married, not dead, though. I could at least window shop.

Everything got back to normal for a few more months. With Paula transferring to the Virginia National Guard, she was quickly on the fast track, and was almost done with her book about General David Peterson. I read some of her transcripts, and I complimented her on a great job. She said that I was just saying that because I love her, but I assured her that if she had fucked anything up, I would definitely point it out to her.

She had laughed, and I had pulled her away from Microsoft Word long enough to take her to bed. The only thing that nagged at my mind a bit was that she had a folder on her desk marked Top Secret. Ok, I knew she had TS clearance and all that. Hell, so did I. But to have a TS folder in an unsecured location was a severe breach of protocol.

But that night, I shoved it to the backburner in my brain, and concentrated on giving her multiple orgasms. She more than returned the favor, making me come twice. God, I loved fucking her hot wet tight pussy!

The next morning, I asked her about the Top Secret file.

"Oh, that's been declassified." She said dismissively.

"Oh? What Operation was it?" I asked.

"It's the craziest thing!" She laughed. "Some World War II operation called 'Wolfbane' where a US Army Ranger attached to the OSS and a British SIS operative supposedly went into Hitler's bunker and executed him along with a bunch of werewolves. I think it was written up as a joke." She said, giggling. I laughed too, as it would have made a hell of an April Fool's Day gag.

"What was the Ranger's name?" I asked, chuckling.

"1st Lieutenant Colton Drake." She smirked. "Like anyone would actually believe that! The SIS Agent's name was Miriam Brindle."

We laughed and joked about the fake operation, which included a "report" from General Patton, who must have been in on the joke.

We looked at the file together and laughed at the thoroughness of the joke. My suspicions were alleviated for the moment.

Something in the back of my mind just felt something wasn't right, though. I just couldn't put my finger on it ... yet.

The next Monday at work, Talisa showed up, and found me chuckling to myself.

"Ok, boss. What's the joke?" She gave me a raised eyebrow as she stood there with her arms crossed and her hip thrust out to the side.

"Just an old declassified file that Paula brought home." I grinned, telling her about the supposed operation during the last days of the War in Europe. She broke down laughing when I told her about the faked report from General George S. Patton.

We spent most of the morning joking about it, and troubleshooting some systems when they showed that attention was needed. The rest of my team took care of most of it, and my gut feeling that something was off came back after a few hours.

Talisa noticed that something was wrong. I keep my emotions hidden pretty well under most circumstances, but this just kept nagging me. Talisa could tell, as she could read people better than just about anyone around.

She came into my office and closed and locked the door behind her. "Ok, Boss. Spill it. What the fuck is going on?"

I sighed. "Tali, what I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room. Understood?" I looked at her.

"Understood, John." She nodded. Everyone called me John or Boss. I didn't mind. Talisa called me Boss more than anyone else in our little corner of Langley. She only called me John when she knew that something was important.

"Ok, I think Paula might be thinking of cheating on me, if she hasn't done so already." I spit it out, giving it to her straight.

Her eyes bugged out. "She better not! Shit, if she cheats on a fine white boy like you, I'll pick you up and show you what real lovin' is!" She gave me a grin. "But seriously, Boss. Do you really think she would do that to you?"

My expression told her everything she needed to know about my feelings. "From what I saw at the General's dinner the other night, yes, I do believe she would." I went on to describe in detail how she had been dancing with General Peterson, our big boss, and her attempts to convince me that it was just him being a dirty old man.

"He could have just been drunk." Talisa shrugged, even though she knew the absurdity of that as soon as the words left her mouth. She grimaced when she realized that the General didn't drink.

"You know that he did it on purpose." I said flatly. She nodded.

"Yeah, he would've had to." She said. "Damn, John. They both basically dissed you in front of all those people."

That was something that I didn't really want to think about. Yes, they had BOTH disrespected me in front of a lot of our friends and coworkers. Talisa hadn't been there that night.

"Tali, what I'm about to do is off the books and of questionable legality. If you don't want to get caught in the crossfire, leave my office now." I looked her straight in her dark brown eyes. Her full lips were set in a determined line as she met my gaze steadily.

"And? I'm with you, John. Whatever it is, I'm with you." She nodded.

"You might not be when I tell you what I'm going to do." I warned her.

"Just tell me, and whatever you say doesn't leave this room." She sat down across from me at my desk.

"Thanks, Tali." I smiled. I then outlined my plan to her, and she nodded support for each point. After fifteen minutes of ironing out the finer points of my plan, she added a few more things we could do. I was reminded how good a friend she was, and how much she took her job seriously.

What it boiled down to was if Paula and General Peterson were having an affair, it could compromise National Security. For those of you that say "private lives don't have a bearing on professional lives", I'll just say this: In the world of International Intrigue and National Security, YES THEY DO.

If a hostile foreign power gets wind that the Director of the CIA is having an affair with his subordinate's wife, you can bet your ass that same hostile foreign power is going to do anything and everything in its power to compromise said Director of the CIA, or compromise the subordinate his his wife. Blackmail is a powerful and accepted tool in the spy game.

My job now wasn't just to Divorce her if the previously supposed affair was going on. My job now included securing the safety of my country. If that meant outing the Director and my wife, so be it. If nothing was going on, so much the better. But I wasn't going to take the chance that nothing was going on. Too much had nagged at my mind since the other night.

Talisa and I figured that we should keep this op between us, and keep everyone else in the dark. I set up a dummy email account and used the system here to tap into the General's and my wife's phone lines. It's usually the purview of the NSA to monitor communications like this, but here at the CIA, we had the same equipment for the same purposes. Gotta love the redundancies of Homeland Security.

We set up the monitoring and proxy servers for what we were going to do. I was able to set up VPNs to the Director's computer and Paula's home computer as well. I could now "look over their shoulders" and see whatever they were doing on their computers. I also set up my own laptop to record everything they did. As head of IT, I was able to do that without drawing suspicion. It's relatively easy to say that I was just monitoring the systems for any suspicious activity. Besides, I had the software available to wipe my hard drive in seconds, if needed.

Part of me felt like I was betraying them, but not that big a part. I knew that if something was going on, I would be doing my duty to protect my country. I would also be gathering evidence in case the General's wife and I would need it for a Divorce.

Talisa also implemented plans, cloning The General's cellphone while I cloned Paula's cell, that night at home. She also gave me the requisitioned surveillance equipment for my house, where I bugged my home phones. Talisa went undercover at The General's house for the same purpose, and implanted bugs in their home phones as well.

She also set up the monitoring software to pick up key words that would indicate something other than professional behavior. Those files would then be emailed to the dummy email account that I had set up, just in case. I also set it up so that I could access that account from anywhere with wireless internet capabilities.

It took two days to set everything up, and business went along as usual. I had my cellphone set up to receive alerts if any of the files got sent to my new email account. Paula's and the General's cellphones were never used for anything even remotely resembling sexual activity. It was all kept professional.

The week after that, Bengazi happened. That was a clusterfuck from the word Go. Two private contractors and our US Ambassador to Libya died that night. It isn't my place to say whether or not everything was done that could have been done, but that was the point where the shit hit the fan.

You see, that night, Paula was out with the girls in her Virginia National Guard unit, or so she said. Also, when the excrement hit the rotating oscillator, General David Peterson was also incommunicado. His cellphone was turned off.

It was at this time that I got a series of beeps on my phone from the email account for incoming mail. Talisa had set it up on a 24 hour update, which I had agreed to at that time as anything more frequent could have been difficult to explain during dinner or something. So it was set up for midnight, when my phone was usually off, and I could check it in the morning once in the safety of my office.

That night, however, I was wide awake and waiting on Paula to get home. When I checked the emails, I just about threw my iPhone across the room.

I calmed down and called Talisa instead.

"Hey, John. What's going on?" She asked with a yawn.

"I'm forwarding these emails to you, Tali. Tell me what you think." I said, then sent them to her from my laptop through the proxy servers.

She read them, and she was silent for a while before letting out a "Holy shit!" when she got the sexting emails between Paula Blakely and David Peterson.

"That's about the size of it, sweety." I said. I was seething with rage, and already planning to name the sorry bastard in the Divorce proceedings, and to share all of this evidence with Diana Peterson at my earliest opportunity.

But first thing's first, as they say. After cementing the next phase of our plan, I told Talisa to keep a low profile, and I would take the HEAT round for this one, if anything bad happened.

It was after 0300 hrs. when Paula finally got home. I was sitting up with a beer in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other. I had printed out all of her emails between her and the General from the previous day.

"Oh, honey! You're still up?" She asked, a surprised and somewhat guilty look on her face.

"Yep. Waiting on you, baby." I said with a bit of sarcasm in my voice. "Have fun with the General, oh, I mean girls?" I asked, grinning with no mirth whatsoever.

"What are you talking about, John? You've been drinking!" She tried to bluster.

"I'm talking about this right here, my darling FAITHFUL wife." I said, standing and handing her the emails I'd printed out. Each one had complete replies from General David Peterson, Director of the CIA detailing what they were going to do tonight in sexy emails that, if they had been texts, would have been sexting.

She gasped as she read each one, but her response wasn't what I had expected. "YOU SPIED ON ME?!" She shrieked. No "I'm so sorry" or "Honey, let me explain", she went right on the offensive.

"Wow. I catch you cheating on me, have already emailed these to a lawyer in preparation to Divorce your skanky ass, and all you can do as accuse ME of spying on YOU? Go to Hell!" I shouted at her. "Oh, and don't worry about your boyfriend. He's going to be sued for Alienation of Affection, and I'll be naming him in our Divorce paperwork." I said that in a more conversational tone, giving her a nasty smile.

"What have you done?!" She said.

"I've already sent your emails to Mrs. Peterson, too. She'll probably be filing for Divorce on Monday, unless she's ok with him cheating on her." I gave her a more benign smile at that. "Tell me, Paula. Did she or I deserve what you and your Asshole boyfriend did to us?"

But she had stopped listening, and was on the phone immediately. "Yes, it's me. John knows. He's already sent the emails to your wife! I know! What are you going to do about it? Ok, fine." She smiled at me as she hung up.

"Let me guess. I'm fired? No big surprise there." I smiled back.

"Worse than that, traitor." She smiled triumphantly at me. She was still unaware that her phone conversations were still being recorded. No problem, there. I would have it tomorrow night at midnight. But she didn't need to know that yet.

"Traitor? Me? You two are the ones putting National Security at risk." I shot back. "The Director of the CIA, having an affair with the wife of one of his subordinates. Do you even realize what would happen if a hostile foreign power found out about that? Do you realize that you, I, or even General David Douchebag could be compromised? With everything out in the open, at least there won't be any blackmail to make you do what they want!"

Paula's face paled at that. Yeah, cheaters NEVER plan for Worst Case Scenarios. I walked over to where my gym bag was, and picked it up. "While you think about how you've ruined our marriage, your career, your lover's career, and how you nearly caused a breach in this country's security, Paula, also think about the pain you've caused me, Mrs. Peterson, and their children. At least we don't have kids."

With those words, I left her sobbing as I left the house and walked out to my '79 Camaro Z-28. The red paint with the twin racing stripes down the length of the body was still my baby. My dad had helped me restore the classic sports car back when I was in High School. He'd bought me the body for my 14th Birthday, and by the time I was 16, we had it fully restored. The first time I drove it after getting my license, I was pulled over for speeding. The cop let me off with a warning, and I took that warning to heart. I slowed the hell down, until I could be sure that no cops or traffic cameras were around.

I tossed my gym bag into the back seat, started the powerful 350 V-8, and peeled out of the driveway. I'd backed in for a quick getaway, and enjoyed squealing the tires as I gunned the engine.

In my bag were several changes of clothes, some personal items, and my Colt M1911.45 ACP pistol. I love my grandpa's old service weapon. It's had a couple pieces replaced over the years, but it's still in perfect working order with the original barrel, grips, trigger, hammer, and slide.

I made it 15 miles toward my safe house before they found me. I saw the black SUVs in my rearview as they closed with me quickly. I gunned the powerful small block and watched the needle climb to over 120 MPH. I couldn't resist the grin that split my face as I drove like a bat out of hell, leaving those SUVs in the dust.

No, the main problem wasn't the FBI assholes behind me, it was the FBI chopper pacing me and keeping its fuckin' spotlight on me as I drove. So when I pulled over to the side of the road, got out, grabbed my pistol and started squeezing off rounds at the bird, it veered away. I saw, much to my surprise, the spotlight shatter from probably the luckiest shot in history. I couldn't help but laugh at that, and got back in my car as I heard the SUVs trying to catch up. I gunned it again, put on my Night Vision goggles, and cut the lights on my Camaro.

75 miles later, I pulled off the road onto a dirt road that led to my safe house.

Now, to clarify a few things, the CIA has NO jurisdiction to operate within the United States of America. In fact, it's illegal for the CIA to do so. Ok. And if you believe that the CIA doesn't operate within the United States of America, just because it's illegal, you really do need to get your head out of your ass. Thus endeth the lesson.

With that in mind, I had ... appropriated an old CIA black site in rural Virginia to use as my safe house. It looked like an old farmhouse, dilapidated and crumbling. The farmhouse itself was supposedly once a stop along the Underground Railroad before and during the Civil War. Once I had the codes for the site, I deleted it from the CIA registry. That was one of the things I had done to plan for this contingency.

Being Director of the CIA, General David Peterson had vast resources at his beck and call. Basically, he could call upon all branches of Homeland Security if he needed them. Well, with me on the loose with a LOT of evidence that could end his career, he figured he needed them.

When I had sent the emails to Diana Peterson, I sent them from my main email account. My dummy account was still clean. I sent Talisa an email to her new dummy account, letting her know where I was. I know the old adage "Trust No One". But that doesn't go very far, really. I had to trust someone, and the ONLY one I could trust was Talisa Martin.

I then sent, from a coffee shop in a nearby town and from a second dummy account, the emails that General Peterson and Paula Blakely had sent back and forth. I had grown my beard out some, and wore a hat and dark sunglasses. Spy Disguise 101.

Where did I send them? Every major News Network, and even FOX News.

I also sent recordings of the conversation Paula had with Asshole, the night I discovered what they had been doing. I was now the subject of a worldwide manhunt being conducted by the CIA, FBI, and NSA. My Camaro was safely hidden in the underground garage back at the black site. I was riding an old Harley Panhead that I had found in the underground garage. With my new scraggly look, the bike fit me better than it would have before.

Talisa kept me apprised of developments on the home front. She said that Asshole had talked his wife out of Divorce for the time being, and so far, none of the News Networks had run my evidence. Even FOX News was holding back for some odd reason. She used her burner phone, and I used mine. We were pretty well untraceable, that is unless the NSA had voice recognition software going, which they probably did. In a great show of solidarity, all of my IT team had resigned upon hearing about what happened, and because I had forwarded all the emails to them as well. Once they heard that I was the subject of a manhunt, they decided that they would go into business for themselves. Good men and women, all of them!

It was a few weeks in, and I still had enough canned rations to last me another five years, when Talisa showed up at the safe house.

She showed up unannounced, so when she opened the door into the bunker from the underground garage, she found herself staring down the barrel of a .45 that I held.

"Ok, ok! I take it you don't like visitors?" She squeaked.

I dropped the weapon to my side. "Dammit, Tali! You could have called ahead first!" I growled, then chuckled.

She threw herself into my arms, hugging me tight. "Sorry, John. I didn't want to take the chance of the NSA tracing my call to you."

"What about tails? You know you were probably followed, right?" I said.

"I lost them." She replied with a self-satisfied smirk. She then leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You need a shave."

"I'll shave when I don't need to live on the lam anymore." I smirked back. "What brings you by?" I asked finally.

"I just wanted to see you and make sure you're ok." She said as she let me go and followed me into the living room. We sat on the couch together and I looked at her. God, she's gorgeous!

"That can't be the only reason. What's going on back at the camp?" I asked, referring to Langley.

"Shit, shit, and more shit." She rolled her eyes. "The main News networks are FINALLY investigating your claims and evidence, though. So far, your fugitive status has been kept from the Press, which is both good and bad."

"Good because they aren't using the News to get my picture out to find me, and bad because once word got out, they would HAVE to take my evidence seriously." I nodded my understanding.

"What are you going to do?" She asked. I really didn't have any idea anymore, to be honest. I could wait it out, and see how long it took the Asshole to finally try to get the local law enforcement to look for me. Or I could force the issue and head up to New York and make a surprise appearance on the Today Show.

No, that would be too risky. The News people had my photo, and that I wasn't available for comment, but nothing on the manhunt that was being conducted by Homeland Security. I was simply If I was cornered on some lonely stretch of road, they could make me disappear real quick. I needed something that was a sure thing.

I looked at her and smiled. "I'm going to cut the head off the snake."

Her mouth opened in shock. "John, you can't!" She gasped. "If you kill him..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head.

"Tali, do you trust me?" I asked, looking her in the eyes.

"Of course I do." She nodded once.

"Then trust me now." I said, and took her in my arms. She tilted her chin up and our lips met in the most sensual kiss I've ever had with any woman in my life. Our tongues danced together as her arms came up and encircled my neck.