The boss and Ellen left for the morning. Rinaldo was their guard and Johnny was left with penthouse duty. He didn't mind the detail. After a night out with the boys, Johnny needed a break and hanging around the penthouse was it if there ever was one.

Being the senior officer, Johnny told Francis to man the door while he checked the interior. Still wet behind the ears, the kid listened. Johnny bit back a chuckle as he strolled inside. A couple of zzz's on the leather sofa would hit the spot, but first, he had to do his job.

Checking the bottom floor was a piece of cake. Living room, dining room and kitchen didn't offer too many hiding places. Everything safe and secure, he bounded up the staircase.

"Ow." A low groan escaped from his lips. His lower back ached and his right temple throbbed. The night out had been fun, but it certainly wasn't worth the aggravation of the morning after. The sofa was looking better and better with every minute that ticked past.

The guest bedrooms were tight. Nothing amiss or out of place. So, Johnny headed for the master suite. Taking a deep breath, he turned the doorknob. The last time he checked this room he'd seen lacy scraps of lingerie that caused him to harden every time his eyes connected with Dr. Ellen. Shit. Her body was firm, compact and shaped like an hourglass. If she had a little height on her, she'd be the living version of Aphrodite. As it was, she made one helluva petite version.

Johnny stepped inside. His gaze darted to the bed. Perfectly made. That explained the early exit. The boss and his lady hadn't gotten busy after breakfast, as was their custom. Johnny shrugged. To each his own, but if he was the boss, an early morning lay with Ellen Burgess would be a part of the normal routine.

Okay, he shouldn’t think about her in that way. God knew if Sonny ever got wind of Johnny's appreciation for his woman, Johnny's body parts would scatter to every continent on the planet. But hell, these were his thoughts. He wasn't hurting anyone and he for damn sure had no plans of ever saying a word to Ellen. Shit, she was gorgeous, but her tongue spat nails when pissed. He'd seen it happen and wasn't dumb enough to cross paths with her. He might fantasize about it, but he wouldn’t try anything. Not even drunk and on a dare. Never.

He checked the closets before heading for the bathroom. Last night's beer weighed heavy in his bladder. He relieved himself and washed his hands. As he lathered up, he stared at his reflection.

Brown eyes, wavy brown hair and a strong jaw. He wasn't that bad looking. When he wanted to put on the charm, he could and chicks lined up for a piece of the Johnny. He frowned.

When was the last time he got laid?

His frown deepened. He couldn't remember. Was it Rinaldo's cousin Veronica or Stone's little sister Gina?

Had it been that long?

"I'm slipping," he mumbled, as he grabbed a towel to dry his hands. As he reached for the monogrammed terry cloth, his gaze connected with a square glass bottle of cologne.

"Chick Magnet?" he read the words aloud. "You gotta be kidding me."

Chuckling, he almost left the bathroom with the cologne untouched, but curiosity got the better of him. He had to take a whiff. Just to know.

He opened the bottle and held it up to his nose. A faint citrus scent filled his nostrils. "Not too bad."

What could one dab hurt?


The next stop was the game room. Johnny's favorite stop. Not just because of the long, comfortable, kid leather sofa with the massage features. Nah, the room was more than just the killer sofa. It was decked out. Sonny spared no expense and didn't mind if Johnny or a few others spent a little time unwinding. As long as the work got done it was all good.

Johnny left the door cracked as he entered. He glanced at his watch. The boss and his lady would be gone for most of the day. A date with Lara Croft: Tomb Raider® and then a nap would be the next order of business.

As he searched through the shelf of game cartridges, a strange sensation crept along the base of his spine. Hand on his piece, Johnny turned quickly. A pair of mocha brown eyes stared back at him. Berry colored full lips parted in a sensual smile. His pulse quickened. One look at Faith Ward did this to him every time. He pulled his hand from his side arm and adjusted his crotch. Her lazy-eyed gaze dropped to follow the movement.

Hot damn, he thought, she's checking out the equipment. He bit back a grin. Justus' sister had no idea. Eight point five inches long and two and a quarter a round. She'd run if he ever tried to whip it on her.

"That's quite a piece you got there, Johnny," Faith said in that trademark husky voice that melted over him like hot wax. "Do you know how to use it?"

Say, what?

His eyebrows shot up in deliberate disbelief. He frowned. She wasn't referring to…? Nah, it was the gun she was talking about, he told himself. The .357 caught her eye.

"Yeah," he said, reaching for the gun. What she did next stopped him from saying more.

"No," she said, tossing her raven locks from her oval-shaped caramel face, "not that piece. The other one." She lifted her hand and pointed. "The big one."

The distance between them closed as she came to him. She reached out in painfully slow motion. Her slender hand cupped him. Well, as much as her right hand could. A low guttural moan gurgled from her.

His arousal intensified.

Stroking him, she stared into his eyes. Her tongue moistened her bottom lip. "Johnny, what would happen if I pulled your trigger?"

Taking his time, Johnny showed her.

The following weeks, Johnny learned numerous pleasurable uses for his loaded weapon and Faith seemed thrilled to be his teacher. In fact, they became so preoccupied with their sensual lessons that the elixir's next 'victim' went completely unnoticed by them.

To be continued…

Back | Home

Port Charles©ABC
General Hospital©ABC
Chick Magnet ©2002 niklovr
All Rights Reserved.