All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Though this work of fiction may contain sexual situations and/or sexual acts between adults and minors, neither the author condones such situations and/or acts.
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Returning the tools to their case, Johnson pushed open the door as he stood up from his knees; the scent which wafted through the widening opening was thick with stale sweat and tobacco smoke. After allowing his nostrils to acclimatise to the odours, Johnson stepped into the small apartment closing the door behind him.
The short hallway opened into a single room which acted as living and sleeping space as well as a kitchenette. The fridge, sink, and small cooking hob were all on the back wall to his right, the floor was covered in a carpet which at some time in the past was possibly beige or tan, but through lack of maintenance the colour had significantly darkened to an almost black; faint traces of lighter shades could be seen just beneath the sofa which sat in the centre of what little space there was in the dwelling.
As he stepped forward into the room proper Johnson noted the door on the left wall, the room was dark but the tiled floor indicated this was the wash room. The main living area had little decoration, a single shelf with a few paperback books, a low coffee table with a few beer bottles and a full ashtray. The gym bag his mark had been carrying was dumbed haphazardly by the coffee table, the only window in the room lead out to the obligatory fire escape. Below the window sat a footlocker, the edge of a vest poked over the rim; clearly this was Jake's solution to having no closet space for his clothes.
`Huh, wonder what Mr Santino sees in this guy?' Johnson's mind considered his employer's sudden interest in the man; having worked for Mr Santino for a number of years Johnson was aware of his employers unusual proclivities, though he rarely allowed himself to think too deeply about them. He was well paid when his services were called upon, but mostly he was kept on a generous annual retainer. Johnson was sometimes not called on for months at a time and was able to live comfortably on the retainer alone, but when he was tasked, he always found the money more than generous for his labours. Returning his mind to the task he had been set by his employer, Johnson tugged on the wrists of his gloves; flexing his fingers as he prepared to go through Jake's things.
Taking care to return things to the way they had been, or as close as possible, Johnson went through the footlocker and the gym bag; Jake's possessions were simple. Aside from two sets of suit pants, and two white shirts which were neatly folded and kept in plastic dry-cleaning bags at the bottom of the footlocker, the rest of Jake's clothes consisted mostly of sweat pants, shorts, tank tops and wife-beater vests. All of the sports wear was tossed casually into the footlocker without consideration for neatness. As he returned the items to their original places, he removed his pocketbook from the inside of his jacket and noted down the information Mr Santino had asked for, on the opposite page he noted down his own observations about the man's slovenly attitude towards his clothes; making particular note of the fact he kept the shirts and pants properly stored whilst everything else was casually dumped into the footlocker.
Turning his attention to the shelf Johnson noted the books were of no particular value; cheap, dime-store paperbacks of no significance. Moving back to the centre of the room, he knelt and felt below the coffee table, sure enough his hand grasped the edge of a cardboard box. Drawing the item from under the table, it was a shoe-sized box which contained numerous pieces of paper; letters, flyers, and wage slips.
`Bingo!' Johnson chimed in his head as he started to flick through the papers; taking a moment to note the name and address of the restaurant where Jake worked. Finding little else of significance or use, Johnson returned the box to the underside of the table where he found it. Satisfied he would find no other information of value Johnson rose to his feet and started back towards the door.
The sound of the key jiggling in the lock made him freeze for only an instant; having taken in the layout of the apartment Johnson knew without thinking he would never be able to get past Jake, nor did he have time to leave by the fire escape. His only choice was to duck into the bathroom, and hope Jake did not need to answer nature's call; Mr Santino had made it clear that he did not want Johnson to become known to Jake for the moment.
Moving quickly Johnson slid through the open door into the bathroom as he heard the apartment door open. Jake's voice boomed out as Johnson settled into the nook behind the bathroom door, "Fuck you Bron! You'll get your rent when I'm fuckin' ready to give it to you!". The sound and force of the door slamming closed sent minor vibrations through the floor of the apartment.
Johnson waited patiently in the dimly lit bathroom, surveying the surroundings the room was cramped and had only a small vent through which air flowed to the outside; there was no window through which to leave. The toilet and sink were adjacent and a small cubicle with shower and taps stood in the opposite corner to Johnson's hiding place. Jake's cussing brought Johnson back to the moment, peering through the crack between the door and the wall he was unable to see Jake at first, but within moments the man came into view as he dropped onto the sofa.
From his location, Johnson could not see Jake clearly, but he knew even though the man's back was to the doorway any attempt to extricate himself from the apartment would likely draw attention. From his time serving in the armed forces Johnson knew if it came to a fight he was more than capable of holding his own against a man of Jake's size and build, but he was under instruction not to come face-to-face with the man and so could not risk a confrontation. With his options limited Johnson knew he would have to wait, and watch.
Jake reached down to his groin, his member was still stiff from the events at the bar. Despite trying to force his mind in other directions when walking back to the apartment, he had failed to calm his erection. His mind kept wandering back to the feelings of the moment, how Zack had tried to trick him into drinking a bottle of piss, the rush of power as he had man-handled Zack and forced him to swallow the contents of the bottle and the wad of ash from the cigar he was smoking.
The fresh memories and rush of hormones all fuelled the tension in his groin, as he casually rubbed himself through his pants his mind leapt back to the events that took place that night in the man's house. As he replayed the events in his head, Jake gripped the shaft of his cock through the fabric of his pants, his breath emerged as a deep-seated growl from the back of his throat as he remembered ramming himself deeply into the man's throat. It had felt so warm, and slick as the spit, drool and throat slime washed over his cock, the lack of resistance had allowed him to pleasure himself completely without consideration of the other participant; that feeling of complete freedom excited him even as just a memory. The pent up frustration and the friction of his hand easily worked the load from his cock, air escaped between his teeth as his member throbbed and spurted the load into his underwear.
Johnson tilted his neck as he tried to adjust the angle of his view through the small crack; Jake was moving towards the bathroom door. Holding his breath calmly, Johnson waited, his every muscle lightly tensed; ready to defend himself should he be discovered. Jake entered the room heading straight for the shower cubicle; the sound of running water confirmed to Johnson the man intended to wash after pleasuring himself. Within moments Jake was in the shower, the splashing of the water and the dissonant sound of whistling caused Johnson to risk a glance from behind the bathroom door.
The man was washing behind the translucent shower curtain, his back was facing the door. Without thinking about it Johnson half crouched as he slipped from behind the door to make his move. Gliding swiftly from the behind the bathroom door, into the living room, and towards the exist, Johnson carefully opened the door and left himself out into the hall. As he slowly and silently closed the door behind him, he audibly breathed a sigh of relief at his escape. Unwilling to push his luck further, Johnson made his way back down the stairs to the lobby area. Stopping at the desk he slapped his still gloved hand on the front desk, causing the aged clerk to jump in surprise.
"W-w-hat d'you want now mister?"
Johnson smirked as he saw the tremor in the clerk's movement, "Relax Bron," the man's eyes widened at the mention of his name, "Pay Jake's rent with that tip I left you, but remember..." John slipped open his jacket to show his holstered weapon, "I was never here, understood!".
"Y-y-ye'sir!" Bron stammered as his eyes fixed on the weapon.
Letting his jacket fall closed Johnson's lips twitched a smile as he watched Bron start to back and turn away, "Call me a cab Bron, and remember, don't give me a reason to come back!"
Gambi sat at the head of his dining table; slowly working through a plate of rare steak and steamed vegetables, all-but swimming in peppercorn sauce. Johnson was seated to his right, though he was not eating dinner, Gambi watched as Johnson turned the cigar in his mouth, puffing lightly as Gambi's butler held the long wooded match being used to light the cigar.
Several puffs of smoke rose from the edges of the cigar as Johnson breathed life into the tobacco, the end burned red-orange as Johnson nodded to Capes he was satisfied with the lighting.
Gambi swallowed his food before dismissing the man-servant, "That'll be all Capes,"
"Very good m'lord," the man's heavy British accent had not changed in all the years he had been in service to Gambi. When the two were alone Gambi set down his knife and fork and turned in his chair to face Johnson.
"You were successful Johnson?"
Johnson grinned around the freshly lit cigar, "You know I take pride in my work Mr Santino,"
"I pay for the best Johnson, so I expect nothing but!", Gambi retorted, his tone was in jest, but the expression on his face was serious.
"Your new man is Jake Pearson, works as a waiter at the Cerulean Crustacean..."
Gambi quickly interjected, "Did you get the measurements Johnson?"
Reaching into his jacket, Johnson pulled out his pocketbook, tearing out the page he slid it across the table to Gambi, "Yes sir. Don't suppose you'd care to tell me what you have planned Mr Santino?".
Furling his brow but smirking, Gambi countered, "I thought you weren't interested in how I spend my leisure time Johnson?"
Smoke jets shot from his nose as Johnson snorted, "I don't need to know Mr Santino, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious what you have planned for the guy". Taking a hit of the cigar Johnson exhaled the smoke slowly across the table towards the empty chair opposite himself, "I usually fix the ones who don't know when to keep their mouths shut. From what I've been told by Vinnie, this guy doesn't fall into that group?"
Gambi picked up the torn page and seemed to ignore the question as he looked over the list of measurements Johnson had taken from Jake's clothes. Returning the page to the table, Gambi picked up his utensils and set about cutting the steak on his plate. Adopting his authoritative tone, Gambi spoke without taking his attention from the food on his plate, "He is a natural Johnson. I will spare you the details of previous events, suffice to say you are being well paid, and will continue to be so long as you can do what I require!"
Realising he was beginning to sail close to the wind Johnson opted not to press, "Understood Mr Santino".
The two men sat in mostly silence for an hour as Gambi slowly consumed the meal on his plate, Johnson did not let on that he saw Gambi eyeing the cigar cleanched in his jaw, especially when he broke the ash off using the edge of the large ornate ashtray which Capes had placed on the table for him. As Gambi set down his utenstils on the empty plate, he flicked his fingers towards Johnson. Accustomed to Gambi's eccentricities Johnson knew to summon Capes back to the dinning room; rising from his seat he moved over to the corner of the room behind Gambi's right. With his still gloved hand he pulled on the bell pull hanging from the ceiling, waiting to see if Gambi wanted to disucss anything further with him.
Capes entered the dinning room from the side-door to Gambi's left, his baritone voice rang out as he stepped into the room, "You rang, m'lord?" Gambi waved his hands to the table as he stood from the chair, Capes set about clearing the plate and silverware as Gambi started for the exit; Johnson followed silently closely behind him.
Leaving the dining room Gambi turned left as he entered the main hall of his house, heading down the hallway to the left of the main staircase. As the hall turned to the right, Johnson knew Mr Santino was heading for his study, clearly he wanted to discuss the next phase of whatever he had planned. As Gambi opened the double doors on the left wall, Johnson entered behind him, stopping to close the doors behind them whilst Gambi moved towards the back of the room. Gambi sat at his desk whilst Johnson seated himself in one of the two chairs across the desk from him.
The two men sat in silence for a moment as Gambi adjusted his belt and shuffled in the chair, Johnson smirked at the man's movements.
Finally, Gambi clasped his fingers together as he leaned foward placing his elbows on his desk, "I will cover your expenses for this project Johnson, on top of the usual stipend I pay for your services,"
Johnson's face indicated his puzzlement at the word `expenses'. Removing the cigar nub from his jaw he exhaled the smoke absent mindedly at Gambi, "What expenses Mr Santino?"
Gambi smiled wickedly, "You are going to become Jake's new best friend Johnson!"