Jane and John Smith's adventures
Jane started packing her bags after serving her husband dinner. A dinner she didn't make. But John didn't know that. That was one of her many secrets; secrets she never intended to tell him. "I never thought I would be going to Russia," Jane thought while putting some sex toys into her suitcases, right next to her favorite gun. "I like wearing fur."
John was in the basement of his shed. Jane didn't know it was there, but then again, she didn't know anything about "his life". Sure it had been rash marrying Jane, but he loved her, even if she was difficult at some times. He was taking inventory on his weapons. One hundred and one handguns; four of them his favorites. Eleven machine guns, but John never really liked those. One bazooka; which he used a lot. And two million, five-hundred, and fifty-four dollars in his safe. And thank God he was going on another job this weekend. He would get one more million in his bank account, which he badly needed to buy the newest X13 sniper with kick ass sight and one hell of a back kick, but it was worth it.
While re-counting her pairs of panties, Jane glanced out of the window, and saw the light on in the shed. John…she loved him so much, but he could be so stubborn sometimes. After finding out that she had packed three more panties than needed, she moved onto her makeup bag, she needed to look good for then man she was hired to kill. Oh yeah, she loved her job. Going on three hundred and fifty three hits. Sometimes doing multiple hits at once. She was the best in the business. Jane was on fire. Too bad, she couldn't celebrate with her husband…they needed something; their life now was just too bland, predictable, boring. If Jane wouldn't have her job, she would go nuts with housework.
"Fuck," John yelled when he got a paper cut while counting out fresh from the mint bills for his trip to Kentucky of all places. Goddamit he sure did hate the country. He had grown up there, and it had been hell. That's why he had gotten into this business, to travel far, far away. "That hurt like fuck!" He sucked on the side of his finger for a second, and then went back to counting. He would need a lot of money for this trip, all of which would be reimbursed. Four hundred and eighty thou. After putting the money in his briefcase, John shut off the lights, and trekked back up to the house. It was snowing outside, and John was freezing his ass off. "I guess a nice trip to the country would be nice…at least I'll get to kill somebody," John thought while his teeth chattered.
Jane heard the back door slam shut, and John so much ruckus. God, he could be so loud sometimes.
"JANE?" John yelled from downstairs.
Jane quickly zipped up her suitcase and put it in her closet, and then walked downstairs.
"Yes?" She asked when she walked into the kitchen to find John about to drink from the carton. "John," she said in a warning tone, and got out a glass from the cabinet above the dishwasher. "Here you go, sweetie," Jane said with a fake smile. Thank God, John didn't realize that she hadn't really smiled in years.
"Thanks," John said with a smile of his own, which was fake by the way. He never knew if Jane was being nice, or just being his wife. His marriage had been going downhill since the end of the honeymoon. Now, the honeymoon had been heaven, Jane was wild and sexy as hell. However, now Jane was cold and distant, and they hadn't kissed in weeks. Sex? Ha! They hadn't had that in ten months. John had been counting. And no, he hadn't cheated, and he was pretty sure that Jane hadn't either, she had just turned into a machine.
Jane's shirt neck opened a little bit, and John glanced down at her breasts. Hey, he was her husband. He was so horny that he dropped the glass on the floor. "Shit!" He said, and bent down to pick up the glass. He picked up a piece and cut his finger again. "FUCK!"
"John, here," Jane handed him a paper towel. She wasn't about to have him bleed on a freshly pressed kitchen towel; she had just gotten them back from the dry cleaners.
"Thanks," he said and got up from the floor, to run his hand under the faucet. While drying off his finger, he turned around to see Jane bent over, her butt in that tight skirt sticking up in the air. A wave hit him square in the chest, he clashed against the counter. It dug into the small of his back. She was killing him; sure she was cold and distant, but she was still hotter than hell. "Um, Jane," John started, but stopped dead when she looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes beckoned him to kiss her. Oh, he wanted to, but they had this unspoken rule.
Ooh, John looked hot tonight, he was backed up against the counter, and Jane wanted to jump his bones this instant. "That feeling won't be mutual," Jane thought while trying to hide a frown.
"Jane," John started, but stopped short. "I, um, wanted to—"
He stopped again, she just looked at him. "John, what do you want?" Jane said shortly and with absolutely no emotion.
"Oh, nothing. I guess I'm going to bed now. I'll see you up there." John said while throwing the paper towel in the trashcan. He looked back, and saw Jane hunched over the broken glass again. John groaned, and then ran upstairs.