Am I Evil

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*/ Revised /*

I hope that this update will read better for the masses.

Thanks again to Mutualnjoyment for the editing!

Keep the comments coming, and enjoy!


I guess I have always been kind of nerdy as it often seems as though I get along better with computers than with people. I think that was one of the main reasons that I’m going to State U. for Computer Programming. I have finished my first year at university and have come home for the summer.

My parents live in a fairly affluent neighborhood. We are not on the same level of rich as the others on the street but between Dad’s accounting practice and Mom’s real estate sales we are doing very okay.

Who am I? My name is Jacob Travis Turner, but everyone just calls me Jake. I am 19 years old, 6’2″, and tip the scales at just under 200 lbs. I am sort like Clark Kent: tall, lean build, short brown hair and black framed glasses that I don’t really need to see with (I just like the look).

I was bullied during my early school years. So much that I talked my Dad into letting me take martial arts classes so that I could at least make it harder on the bullies. It did and as I got better at it they stopped. I was just not that easy to beat up any more. I also liked the classes so much that I have kept them up to this date. I also do a little weight training, not heavy power lifting, but enough to give me some nice muscle tone. Not that any of the girls at school ever took notice.

My first day back home I am sitting in the backyard with my tablet just scrolling through my Facebook feeds.

“Jake!” my Mom yelled from inside the house.

“What?” I yelled back, before getting up and heading inside to see what she wants. She was in her home office with her phone to her ear. “What is it, Mom?” I asked in a polite tone.

“Mrs. Stratfield needs some help with her computer…..What was that?…..It seems that her printer stopped working and she needs to print something…. Not so fast…. oh, and her computer seems to acting up and running slowly,” my Mom said while trying to have two conversations.

“Tell her I will come over and have a look, but not promising anything,” I said as I went to my room to put on some jeans and a clean T-Shirt. I also grabbed my pack with my laptop. Most likely she has a virus of some sort, I thought to myself.

As I reached the front door, “Don’t help the Enemy too much,” my Mom yelled at me.

“Okay, Mom,” I replied. Mrs. Stratfield is not just one of the MILF’s in the neighborhood, but she also works for as a realtor for a different agency than my mom. In public they are always friendly to each other, but behind a closed door mom could have nothing to do with her.

Mr. Stratfield works in a large brokerage in the legal department making a lot of cake, so I think that Mrs. Stratfield just works to keep herself busy. They did not have any children which was always part of the local gossip. Mrs. Stratfield could easily hold her own in the Miss America contest. She must stand 5’10” at least without her heels on, and she seems to always being wearing heels. Heels and stockings, well I am guessing that they are stockings. It helps with the multitude of fantasies I have had of her over the years. You never see her in a pant suit, always a skirt and blouse or a dress with a jacket of some sort. She is always dressed classy with a hint of sexiness.

Her long straight black hair is always done just right. Those blue eyes of hers and her incredible tits (the best that a man could buy, says my dad). Real or fake, all I know is that they help to make the whole package amazing. I have to stop all these thoughts as I am sporting some good wood here and it is a short walk across the street to their house.

I paused at the door to calm myself and to get the blood flowing back to the big head before ringing the bell.

“Ding Ding Dong” went the bell. Why was I nervous? I have been in their house before, back when my parents and the Stratfields were better neighbors. Seemed like twice a year they hosted a backyard pool party. I shook my head trying to keep those old memories from taking hold.

“Who is it?” a demanding female voice barked from behind the door.

“Hmm, it is me Jake Turner,” I replied trying to be polite, “You called my mom about a problem with your computer?”

“Oh, yes Jake,” Mrs. Stratfield replied as she opened the front door, “Come in”

Even though I have been in their house a few times, I am always taken aback by the lack of all the normal life clutter. It is like a page out of one of my Mom’s magazines. I am not saying that my home is dirty but you certainly can tell that people live there. This house seems like one of those Model Show Homes or a designer’s house that you see on TV.

While looking for a place to put my shoes I noticed her. First thing to come into my sight was her well manicured painted toes in sandal high heels. I think this was the first time in a long time that I had glimpsed Mrs. Stratfield’s well toned bare Maltepe Escort legs. She must have been out tanning because as my eyes worked their way up the thin, white robe was slightly open, revealing a body that was barely contained in a red string bikini. I dare not let my eyes linger to long before snapping up to meet her eyes trying to stare me down.

With a huff, Mrs. Stratfield turned and walked down the hall toward her back office. I quickly followed. I could not help myself as my eyes drifted down to her ass. I think she could feel me staring because she seemed to put more sway into her runway-like strut. I entered the office shortly after her, with my laptop bag cover a growing hard on. We made eye contact. Then her eyes darted down and up, before a sly smile came across her face.

“Well there it is,” Mrs. Stratfield said as she pointed at her laptop siting on her large wooden desk. “It just does not want to do anything I tell it to do, just like my husband. Get to it!” With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

What was all that about her husband? Oh, well I guess I should just get started. I booted up her laptop. “Hmm, it is slow,” I said to myself. I set out to start mine up for I knew I was going to need to work a little computer magic. I was right, her computer had viruses alright. Lots of them, but that was not what were really slowing it down. It seems someone installed a shadow program to record emails and chat messages. It was hard to find, so it was not just your average hack job. This was installed with a purpose.

I copied it over to a USB before loading up a decompiler. It would take a few minutes, but there were other things that I could do to speed up Mrs. Stratfield’s computer. As I worked on her computer mine chimed in that it had finished its task. I surfed some of the source code. It was well written, but I was able to find the dump site for the copies. “Someone has some ‘splaining to do,” I thought to myself in the classic Ricky Ricardo voice. It seems that the files go to another computer on the local network. Now, whoever programmed this was good, but they must of been sure that no one was going to hack it because in the program were the keys need to get into the destination computer.

I quickly copied the information on to a piece of paper before I started an antivirus program. I finished just in time because that was when Mrs. Stratfield poked her head into the office. With her desk facing the back wall, both of the computer screens could easily been seen from the door way.

“How’s is it going?” She asked.

“Well you have a lot of viruses, and some internal routing conflicts,” I replied maybe sounding too geeky.

“Whatever, can you fix it?”

“I have started doing it, but it will take a while for the program to run,”

“Oh, well help yourself to the fridge, I am going out to meet with a few friends for a coffee, should be back in about an hour or so,” Mrs. Stratfield stated before disappearing from sight.

“Hmm, an hour to check out where and what was copied,” I thought to myself. I know that I should not go looking for those files, but what is Mr. Stratfield looking for?

With the keys to the vault so to speak, I went looking to see what there was. I did not just have access to the dump folder but the system as a whole. There was several archived emails and chat session in the dump folder. First thing I did was copy them before I went exploring a little deeper. I started to copy archived emails and personal letters to people. I was a copying machine. The information that I was gleaning off of the other system was tremendous. I did not have time to read it all, it was more just like a smash and grab.

I was starting to get a little thirsty, so I left the computers doing their thing while I went to the kitchen to grab a cola. On my way back, curiosity got the better of me and I had to explore the house. As I wondered from room to room, a picture seemed to build. At first glance everything looks normal for to hard work perfectionists. As I climbed the stairs that thought seemed to fade. It looks like Mr. and Mrs. sleep in separate rooms and have for a while.

I know an older couple that is friends of my parents that sleep in different rooms because of snoring but at least they had pictures of each other in their respective rooms. That is not the case here. That just leaves me with more questions, and hopefully the files that I have stolen from them will help me fill in the pieces of this little mystery. I stopped in my tracks and thoughts as I descended the stairs. “I am stealing these people’s personal files, am I okay with it?” I thought to myself. Then the sound of the garage door opening sent me in flight for the back office.

As I reached the office chair I could her heavy footsteps walking down the hall. “Katharine, are you in there?” Mr. Stratfield asked as he pasted the office on his way to the kitchen.

“No, it is me Jake Turner, from across the street,” I replied as I exited from the Anadolu Yakası Escort office to follow him into the kitchen.

“Oh, yes Jake, Dave’s boy,” Mr. Stratfield said, “‘I’m sorry, you’re a man now. What is that you are drinking?” He asked while pointing at the cola in my hand.

“Oh, Mrs. Stratfield said I could help myself,” I tried to reply.

“Cola is for mixing not drinking, young man,” he interrupted me, “Here let me pour you a man’s drink,” and with that he mixed me a very strong rum and cola.

I took a sip. The strong rum influence gave me a slight cough. “It is a little strong. But then I thought you college boys would be use to it,” He added.

I have never been a big drinker. Not that I have never gotten drunk either, but I did not go out and party all of the time like the movies tell us about college life.

“Thanks, just not a big college drinker,” I tried to cover for myself.

He just laughed a little before taking another swig of his drink. “So what brings you across the street?” he asked.

“Well, Mr. Stratfield,” I started.


“What?” I added.

“My name is Stan, not Mr. Stratfield,” Stan said as he sipped his drink, “We are both men here, at the beck and call of the Wicked Witch of East”

“Oh, Mr. Stra… Stan, Mrs. Stratf…”

“Katherine,” Stan interrupted again, “Mrs. Stratfield gives her too much power. I know you are just trying to be polite and respectful, but she does not deserve it”

“Okay, Katherine had a problem with her computer, and I am cleaning it up for her,” I said.

“Hmmm, did you find anything wrong with it?” Stan asked

“Just some viruses,” I replied while trying to take another sip, “Maybe she is watching too much porn” I added trying to be funny.

It was Stan’s turn to choke on his drink. “That prude, Hell, I think porn would know better and run and hide from her. Not that you’re asking, but me and the missus have not been husband and wife for a long while now. Oh, why am I telling you this? I am sorry for telling you that. Don’t tell anyone, okay” and with that Stan downed his drink and started to mix another.

It was that moment where I think I saw the fire of life leave Mr. Stratfield’s eyes. I felt sorry for the man, but also reminded me that I stealing moments of their private lives as we stood there drinking. Both of us just stood there sipping or drinks. I did not even hear Mrs. Stratfield enter the house, not to mention the kitchen.

“So this is what I am paying you for,” She barked, “So you can drink with my… husband?” The last part seemed like it was spoken with distain.

“Oh sorry, I was waiting for them,” I started to reply before Stan stepped in.

“Oh, shut up Kat!” He barked back. The look she shot back would have killed any normal man. “Don’t give me that Look, I asked the boy to join me for a drink. And where have you been? I have been trying to call you.”

“I was out by the pool, and then went to meet up with Jill and Stephanie. And what have I told you about calling me Kat,” Mrs. Stratfield stormed back with. She placed her handbag down on the kitchen island before walking over and grabbing my drink out of my hand and downing it. “Now that your drink is done, how about you get back to work,”

Well not really wanting to be caught in the middle of whatever this is, I fled quickly back to her office to check on the computers. The virus scan was done, and the repair would only take a few minutes and my other download was almost done. I thought about stopping it, but left it to finish. I am not perfect, and again I had no idea of what I was really stealing in the first place.

The two computer operation finished seconds apart, and I was packing up my laptop when Mrs. Stratfield entered the office. “I am sorry you had to be a part of that,” Katherine Stratfield said calmly. “Mr. Stratfield and I are going through a bit of a rough patch right now, so I hope that you can understand, and keep quiet about what went on here,”

“Oh sure, I won’t tell anybody about it,” I replied trying to pack up and get out of there. “Your computer should be working fine now. It had a virus, and I cleaned it for you.” I grabbed my things and got up and tried to leave.

“Oh good,” She said, “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, just think of it as a neighborly thing,” I said as I slide past her. This I think was the first time today that she had to look up into a person’s eyes. I forgot to mention that Mr. Stratfield is a short man, maybe 5’5″ and pudgy. So she would always be looking down on him.

I made my way out of their house, and back across street. I entered my home and headed right up to my room. I was glad that no one else was home. Just so I could flop down on my bed and try to let what happed this afternoon all filter through. As I lay there, I started to wonder what was going on behind those closed doors. That brought me back to the files I had stolen from the Stratfield’s. I reached over and grabbed my laptop and Ümraniye Escort fired it up.

I just sat there with a list of files, where to start? I sorted the files so that the older ones were displayed first. As I read through the first few files I learned that Mr. Stratfield worked for Mrs. Stratfield’s father. There was even a copy of the prenup attached to an email that was sent to a lawyer by Mr. Stratfield.

The prenup does seem to revolve around infidelity on either side. If I was reading it right, if either had an affair than that party would get nothing. That part seemed harsh, but it was in reference to Mrs. Stratfield’s father’s estate which would be a big chunk of change.

Most of the rest were just different attempts to find out if the other was cheating. Then I came across this chat conversion between Mrs. Stratfield and a friend of hers.

QueenBee: Hi Girl how’s it going?

KillerinHeels: It’s the same old scene up here in Portland. Rain! 🙁

QueenBee: Well it sounds like fun

KillerinHeels: Oh come on now, it can’t be that bad over there?

QueenBee: I am sure that Stan is fucking his secretary, but I can’t find any evidence

KillerinHeels: Well have you tried to catch his attention?

QueenBee: Why? He does not know what to do with this body!

KillerinHeels: Then any others that have caught your eye? What about the boy across the street? You know the one you screamed instead of Stan? What was his name again?

QueenBee: No, and No! I told you that when we were drunk! And it was Just that one Time!

KillerinHeels: Yes, you did, but then you were not that drunk not to remember it.

QueenBee: Besides I don’t want to have to tell him what to do. I just need a man to step up and take. Not ask, just take and use me. Ohh why am I telling you this

KillerinHeels: Cause you need to have a Big O, you old slut!

QueenBee: Hey, I am not that old, I am only a year older than you bitch! And look who’s calling who a slut!

KillerinHeels: Okay slut, don’t get your panties in a knot. Next time I am in town I will put that foul tongue of yours to work.

QueenBee: Don’t make me wait too long, or you will be on the wrong end of my strap on.

“Holy Crap,” I thought after reading that. Who is “KillerinHeels” and Mrs. Stratfield has noticed me. But what was that part about just being taken? Was I reading more into this than I should be? Well, I should not be reading this in the first place, but what was the meaning in what I had read? I had no answers for myself.

“That bitch!” I heard my mom yell as she slammed the door behind her.

I jumped up and ran to the stairs to see what was going on. “What is wrong?” I asked.

“That fucking bitch stole my client,” She said as she pointed toward the Stratfield’s house. “I am sorry for my language, I am just so upset.” I rushed down the stairs and gave my mom a loving hug.

“Thanks, I needed that, but do you know what would also go good right now?” She asked.

“How about a nice big glass of wine, while you soak in the tub,” I replied as she looked up to my loving eyes. “And don’t worry me and the twins will make supper, so go and relax,”

“Okay if you say so, but not Mac and Cheese” she replied.

“I can’t make any promises on that,” I jokingly added, “I am not sure I can even get those two off of their phones, And speaking of the devils….” With that my sisters entered the house. Yes, they are twins.

“How was school?” Mom asked.

“Derek asked Wendy to a party,” Sherry replied as she bounded up the stairs.

“Well that is good right?” Mom replied looking for a connection.

“He only asked because Debbie Marshall said no,” Wendy stated madly as she stomped up the stairs after Sherry.

“Why were you so much easier to raise?” mom asked as she hugged me again, before heading up the stairs to see if she could help her girls. And with that I headed to the kitchen to see what was there to work with.

Cooking for the family is like trying to make three different meals all at the same time. Dad and I can live off of steak, Mom she loves a good salad with chicken or a seafood dish while the twins are self proclaimed vegans, but bacon is okay. I know, I know, but they are right about the bacon. So I settled for a grilled chicken pasta Caesar salad dish, that I know we all can eat. The twins will just pick the chicken out, which means more chicken for Dad and me.

Oh, I think you are wondering about the twins. Sherry and Wendy are 16 years old identical twins, brown hair, hazel eyes and an attitude. They are both very active in sports and are a little bigger than the Barbie doll cheerleader type.

To all you pervs out there, if you even think about hurting my sisters I will mess you up! If that means I am going to jail so be it. That being said, now back to my story.

“So, champ how was your day?” Dad asked at the dinner table.

“It was okay I guess,” I replied.

“So were you able to help out that evil bitch?” the last part mom mumbled, “Did she pay you?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Stratfield were starting to get into a fight so I got out of there before I was witness to something that might cause me to be in a courtroom.” I stated quickly before forking in another mouth full.

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