My thanks, as always, to GrandTeton for his tireless efforts to teach me how to write, punctuate, make sense, and stop drooling, and for taming my wilder flights of fancy, and to my dear wife and her friends and family for their help and assistance; without them I wouldn't have gotten anywhere with this story.
As before, please remember, this is only a story, so please suspend disbelief and take a wander through my world, who knows, you might even enjoy it...
All characters depicted herein are consenting adults, indulging in consensual acts and activities appropriate to and within the rules of this site.
BB1958
*****
Justine was finding it increasingly difficult to divest herself of her soon-to-be ex-husband Carlo and the travesty of a marriage she'd endured all those years.
Six months had passed since she'd walked out on Carlo, and found a new life with her Johnny-Bear, her older brother, and now her lover; as far as she was concerned, she and Johnny were together, and Carlo was out of the picture for good.
She'd told him enough times that they were done, that she wanted a clean break, but Carlo just didn't seem to be getting the message. For reasons of his own, and despite her repeated statements to him that she wanted a divorce, now, he persisted in showing up unannounced at the loft, claiming he wanted to reconcile with her.
Justine remained adamant; the marriage was over, and he was wasting his time; she was staying with her brother, with the cover story for Carlo's benefit that she was looking for a place of her own and her brother was letting her crash at his place until then, but she was crystal-clear on one point; she wanted out, she didn't want alimony, she didn't want any kind of settlement at all; she just wanted Carlo to sign the papers and leave her alone, just accept they were done, get on with his life, and let her get on with hers.
Carlo, however, seemed to be going out of his way to drag the whole thing out, instead of just accepting it was over and moving on, and for the life of her she couldn't understand why.
Instead, he'd show up and try to wheedle his way into the loft, haranguing her at the door and deliberately making a commotion just to annoy Johnny; he knew he worked nights, just as he was aware Justine too worked all night, and he enjoyed the mean, spiteful little thrill he got out of knowing he was depriving the pair of them of their rest by deliberately being as loud and obnoxious as he could.
Carlo never tried to force his way into the loft. Much as he wanted to snoop around inside, or at least try and get a clue as to where Justine was hiding her money, he wasn't foolish enough to force the issue. The thought of any kind of physical confrontation with Johnny made his stomach lurch and shudder, so he played his mean little game, always waiting until he was sure those two incestuous sickos were nicely tucked-up in bed and fast asleep after their night's work and their sick little morning fuck before once again disturbing their rest.
It had gotten to the point where Justine found it easier to just pass on getting any kind of rest the morning after a night's work; Carlo and his mid-morning visit would just break-up her sleep anyway, and Johnny's offer to take him somewhere and properly educate him in the art of getting lost was no solution; she wanted her divorce cut and dried and out of the way, and having Carlo in the Emergency Room and Johnny in the county lock-up would just make things more difficult.
So she let him play his game, convinced he'd eventually get tired of it, sign the papers, and leave her alone once and for all.
But Carlo had no intention of leaving her alone, not until he knew exactly where the money was, and so he kept it up, with no pattern Justine could predict; some weeks he'd be there every morning on some pretext or another, then the following week he'd show up Monday, then Thursday, then nothing until the following Tuesday, but he knew she'd be sitting up, waiting for his knock, whether or not he showed-up, and it pleased his petty mind that she was forced to do that; it was just the beginning of what he had in mind to punish her for keeping his money from him, which was how he thought of her earnings; his wife, ergo his money, period.
Finally his persistence paid off; one morning several weeks after his low-key harassment first began, Justine answered the door to Carlo's knock after a particularly long and tiring night; her tiredness was exacerbated by the cumulative effect of too little sleep caused by Carlo's little game, so when he handed her some papers to sign, something to do with cancelling her co-sign on the lease, but so petty he could easily have mailed it to her, her guard slipped, and while she was distracted by scanning carefully through the documents to see what was so damned important about them, he edged into the loft, where he finally spotted what he'd been looking for all along.
Through the open door of the loft bedroom partition he glimpsed the safe he'd hoped would be somewhere in that enormous space. Now he knew for certain where the money was, time to start things moving.
The plan Gina had worked out was foolproof, all they had to do was watch the two of them until Justine was alone, then they could pounce, take the money, and be long gone before that lumbering hillbilly fucktard brother of hers ever knew what had happened.
*
When Carlo had gone Justine pondered for a while on this latest visit. Usually Carlo went out of his way to make a commotion, doing all he could to disturb Johnny's rest.
At Justine's insistence, John normally waited in earshot but out of sight for Carlo to leave after he'd had his fill of annoying her, confident he wouldn't try anything physical with her, because he knew what Johnny was capable of doing to him if he tried any rough stuff. This time, though, was different; he'd seemed almost jubilant, like something had hit his happy switch; maybe her signing the papers was the reason; perhaps he'd finally seen that it was time for him to move on too...
Thinking thoughts like this, she put the coffee on, losing herself in the simple domesticity of it. The pot had just brewed when two arms snaked around her waist and a pair of lips pressed against her neck, making her jump; damn, Johnny B could move silently sometimes; he'd almost scared her out of a year's growth!
"Dammit Johnny, don't do that, you scared the shit out of me!" she scolded; tried to scold, that is, because she was spun around, and kissed by what felt like a friendly cyclone, a storm of kisses cutting off her words in mid-scold. Justine gave in to the inevitable and kissed him back just as eagerly, feeling him harden against her even as his hands crept around her waist to clasp and squeeze her tight little buttocks.
Eventually they had to surface for air, and Justine pulled away slightly so she could thump him on the chest playfully.
"What have I told you about sneakin' up on me?" she growled, and dodged him when he tried to kiss her again.
"No, no you don't, not 'til I've had my say, Johnny-Bear! You really startled me..." she grumbled, then gaped as he handed her a candy bar.
