Tempted (erotic) (#4, 101 Nights)

Chapter Three: Alisha

There are showerheads everywhere in the luxurious stone and glass shower. Above, on either side of me, in the corners … as if to ensure every last bubble of soap is blasted away. It’s heavenly, and I stay too long, savoring the heat and pressure of water washing Tony’s funk from my body. George has some upscale brand of soaps and hair products, ones I’ve never heard of. They come in glass jars and smell of herbs, so I know they aren’t cheap.

It doesn’t stop me from using them. If assassins don’t faze him, me borrowing his expensive shampoo won’t either. Just like I intend to borrow his computer to figure out how hard it’ll be to hack my way away from him and transfer money where I can reach it before I run.

The towels are as luxurious as the bathroom, thicker than my comforter at home. I towel off and pause, realizing my hands still tremble. I’ve been avoiding any serious thoughts. Soon, I’ll be left with nothing but Tony’s computer and the knowledge that my time to stop his automated time lock from expiring is up.

I already know I can’t hack it. I’ve spent the past few months trying to. Having his laptop gives me some leverage but won’t prevent what’s coming. My only hope: he doesn’t have any information about the secret bank accounts and crypto-currency stashes I have all over the internet. As long as I have money, I can run and survive.

I’m not about to put on the clothes I wore to Tony’s, not until they’ve been washed. Restless with the dark thoughts settling into my mind, I leave the bathroom and rifle through the drawers of a dresser at the center of a walk-in closet, filled mainly with suits, a sitting area and fireplace and tons of mirrors. George’s closet is nicer than my apartment.

I tug on a soft, thick t-shirt that falls to mid-thigh and a pair of boxers.

“Even his underwear is nicer than my Sunday best,” I complain aloud. Irritated at George despite him saving my life, I pause in the middle of the master suite. “Now, where would someone like him keep his computer set up?”

As close to him as possible, like I would. It’s clearly George’s room, and I look around. There are four doors leading out of the master suite, aside from the main entrance.

“Bathroom, closet, balcony and …” Tilting my head, I go towards the fourth door and open it. I walk into a darkened space filled with the soft whir of computers and the glow of monitors everywhere. It’s about ten degrees cooler in here than it is in the rest of the condo, and there are no windows. It’s dark, cool, quiet - totally the kind of spot I’d want for my set up.

If I could afford one like this. Massive, flat screen monitors hang on the walls while smaller ones span a full one hundred eighty degrees around the computer desk in the middle of the room. He’s got a bank of mini-servers on one shelf and top of the line everything. I sit at the desk, awed by the amount of hardware and mentally calculating the price.

“Custom,” I murmur, trailing fingertips over a case and several other tools I have heard of but never used. “No wonder he beat me!” Pride swirls through me. If I had an endless supply of money to buy shit like this, I’d take out Tony in a snap of my fingers.

Hope bubbles within me, and I stand quickly. It’s five forty. It’s insane to think I might be able to crack his computer before six, and equally insane not to try with George’s fancy toys.

Leaving the computer room, I return to the bathroom, where I stashed my messenger bag beneath a sink, in case George got any ideas about grabbing it while I was bathing. I grab it and hurry back to the desk, only to see George in his seat. He’s bringing the various computers and other equipment online. Bluish light from a monitor outlines his wide shoulders and thick biceps. He’s wearing a t-shirt that stretches snugly across his upper body and clings to his lean, perfectly sculpted torso. One bicep is bandaged from our run-in at my apartment.