The Return of Justin D'enfer

The Chicago sky was divided: the sun glinted off the waters of Lake Michigan in the East as the leading edge of a storm from the western plains lined up with the lakefront, lightning flashes playing on the Western Horizon. Justin D'Enfer sat a his corner table 95 stories above Lake Shore Drive, sipping his glass of iced tea. He was dressed formally this day: wearing a tan suit with a white shirt and a peach tie, a well groomed and dapper young businessman in his mid twenties. The restaurant was sparsely populated at the beginning of lunchtime, and a generous tip ensured the tables farther away from him would be filled first.

If he were there with his mistress Brenda, he would have booked the entire restaurant to ensure their privacy, but today he wanted strangers around. His sister Justine was unpredictable, and after seven years absence he wanted a more public context for their encounter. Great Aunt Adele simply told him to be there to meet his sister and she would tell him why.

A tall young woman entered the restaurant wearing a pink striped halter dress, spike heels, and rimless sunglasses. She took off her shades and he saw his doppelganger. Her body was still beautifully proportioned and lascivious, her chestnut hair hung low down her bare back, and her brown eyes still danced with the mischief he'd known his entire life. All watched her procession to his table: she glided across the floor, her small black purse in her left hand, her skin golden but not bronzed, her nipples perking proudly in the air conditioning without restraint, her eyes fixed on his the entire time. He stood to greet her, unsure of how she would greet him, but she clasped him in a full body embrace and gave him a hard, open mouth kiss directly on his lips. "Hello, Teenie Weenie," she teased softly as their lips parted.

"Hello, Slut Sister," he replied. "It's been a long time."

"Too damn long," she said looking him up and down with a broad smile on her lips. "You're looking good; glad to see you aren't turning into a fat bastard like Dad."

"You're looking good, too. Glad to see you're not turning into a dumpy broad like Auntie Pru."

She smiled and gave him another quick kiss. "Two more years until 30, and I plan to turn heads for thirty more years at least. Let's order and we can catch up."

He held her chair and thunder boomed in the distance. A waiter appeared as he settled in his chair: "May I bring you a beverage, Madam?"

"Spring water with a twist of lime."

"Would you care to see a menu?"

"No, I know what I want and I imagine my brother does as well. I'll have a Mediterranean salad and he'll have a New York Strip, rare."

"Would you care for shrimp with your salad?"

"Yes. And Calamari for appetizer."

"Very good. Would you care for wine with your luncheon?"

"No," she said, her eyes dancing. "We'll wait until after lunch for intoxication."

He smiled as the waiter retreated, tapping his fingers on the table. "Do you come to Chicago often?"

"A couple times a year. Uncle Ferd had an apartment downstairs he left me, and we used to have dinner up here late. He always wanted to take in a couple of games in the Wrigley Field bleachers, and I love to shop the Miracle Mile."

"Sorry to hear about the accident."

She looked out the window and bit her lip. "Yeah. I'm just now feeling normal most of the time. It was so, so sudden: one moment we're tacking in the English Channel and he's handling the sails and lines like a pro, and the next he's over the side and I can't get back to him soon enough. Must have hit his head as he went over, that's what the coroner said. Sometimes it seems like five minutes ago and sometimes it seems like a decade."

"I'm sorry, Justine," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "A year isn't enough, is it?"

"No, I'm all right," she said, batting back a tear. "Got some counseling and I can cope with it. Until Cousin Chelsea sent me the e-mail, I've been just sitting on the estate in Kent, tending the gardens. It's time I got back into life and the family again."

"That's super. How's Chelsea these days?"

Their calamari arrived and they spent a few hungry moments giving their appetizer their attention. Finally Justine said: "She's almost completely domesticated. Child rearing suits her. How's your household doing?"

"Fine, fine. Aunt Adele is almost indestructible."

Justine smiled slyly: "I could have guessed that. And her nurse is satisfactory?"

"Oh yes, definitely," he commented, looking out the window with a smirk.

"Good. Wouldn't want you to be bored or lonely after your sojourn in Saudi Arabia. And how is your portfolio these days?"

Justin smiled. "Dumping all those oil stocks was timely, got rid of them just before the disaster in the Gulf. Managed to rebuild the portfolio since I returned to civilization a few months ago, even increased it with some nice play on the Chicago Commodities Exchange this morning. I've still got the touch."

Their main course arrived with a flourish. The storm continued to build in the West, crawling across the sky and darkening the landscape. In the distance, people scurried along the walking trail next to Lake Michigan as they saw the oncoming rain and sought shelter. The two young people savored their meal, chatting about old friends and reminiscing about their childhood together. They finished and after their plates were cleared, Justin ordered a scoop of the finest French Vanilla Ice Cream with Creme du Menthe for dessert. After it was delivered, Justine watched as the server disappeared leaving them alone in the southeast corner of the room. "An old terror has arisen, Brother."

"That being?"

"Our Mother."

Justin shook his head. "But she and Dad are in Morocco. I helped send them there. How can she be a threat to us here?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Don't be stupid, Justin. Mom would mess with us just for the fun of it."

"So? If she comes back to this country, she gets arrested for all those charges she was convicted of in absentia. She's on the wanted list."

"Do you think she'd be so stupid as to return on her own passport?"

He put his spoon down and thought. "All right, give. Where's Mother these days?"

Looking around, she saw most of the others in the place had migrated toward the exit, directed by the staff, who was asking them to take shelter by the elevators. The storm was closing in, lightning flashing dramatically, and rain harshly spattered the windows. "Don't you want to go someplace safer?" she asked.

He grinned and looked defiant. "No. If I follow you anywhere, you could knock me over the head and I'd be at your mercy."

"Mother is in Atlanta."

"So? What's in Atlanta?"

"Your little bastard children. That's why Chelsea sent me the e-mail: she did it from a free account and probably from a public library. Mother's moved in with Auntie Pru and Chelsea, playing the doting grandmother role to the hilt and intimidating them. They're scared to death, Mom is working all kinds of little games, set up a house cleaning service for the rich, and gathering information."

"So? How can she hurt us?"

Justine rolled her eyes. "Mother's become a first class hacker. She thinks there's a money line between you and the kids and is looking for it. If she can trace it back to you, you could find yourself broke in a New York minute."

"Good thing we're in Chicago, then. All right, having her here is dangerous enough, although I still don't think she can hurt us."

"You don't care what happens in Atlanta?"

"Well, I really don't enjoy the thought of Prudy and Chels living under Mom's thumb, or what she might program into the kids. Someday I might want to be on good terms with them. I know you: you have a plan."

She smiled and the storm flashed brightly close by, highlighting her face garishly. "Of course, Justin my dear. A pipe dream, I know, but you might be interested. What if we can turn tables on Mother dear?"

"Take charge of her, take her somewhere she can't hurt us? Make her a slave? What about Dad?"

"Dad's still in Morocco. He's built up a modest pile, and installed a harem of locals. Last year he kicked Mom out on her ass, moved to Fez, and set himself up as an Afghani exile. Even calls himself Abu Gosh, and pretends to be Muslim, but he still drinks like a fish and tries to wear out his prostate."

"All right, he's out of the picture as far as we know, but we can track that."

"Don't you trust me, baby bro?"

He smiled as a flash of lightning turned his face grotesque for a moment. "When I last saw you, you were wishing a plague on my house, telling people you never wanted to see me again and I deserved whatever was coming to me. So I could trust you with a lick and promise now?"

"I figured as much," she said, leaning back and smiling, letting the left side of her halter bow outward to reveal more golden skin. "Bet you have a code with Adele to make sure I'm not kidnapping you."

"Of course. If I don't get in touch with the right words at the right time, they know I'm here with you now, and have a head start to track me down. There are other preparations you do not need to know about."

She tossed her head back, laughing out loud as the torrents broke on the glass on the outside of the window. A waiter came halfway over and spoke loudly: "Sir, Madam, it would be appropriate if you took cover by the elevators."

"No, thank you," he replied. "We'll take our chances here. I appreciate your diligence and it will be rewarded. Leave us alone."

"Yes, sir," he said, moving out of the restaurant.

"Very good, baby bro, very good. I see you can be trusted not to do anything stupid. Very well, I offer you a gesture of good faith. Ask me to do something, here and now. I'll prove to you that bygones are bygones, and we can work together to screw up Mom's plan, whatever it is."

He took a bite of his dessert and the thunder pounded. "Nice tablecloths here, they reach down quite a ways. Everyone else is cowering from the storm next to the elevators. If you slip underneath, no one will notice."

"And whatever should I do there?" she said with a sultry smile.

"Do I have to spell it out?"

She shook her head slowly, and folding her napkin, slid underneath. He toyed with his dessert, licking small portions off his spoon as he felt his fly undone. As she drew his manhood from his slacks, its limpid length began to stiffen and her tongue greeted it with a series of long swirling licks. He fought to keep his posture casual and his manner controlled as she aroused him unseen. He gasped as she took off his left shoe and shock. "What the hell are you doing, Slut Sister?"

"Giving you an idea. Why should you have all the fun?" He reached out with his bare foot and touched the skin of her calf with his instep. It was silky smooth all the way up, devoid of undergarment, and as his toes found her valley of delight, her mouth closed over the head of his cock, her tongue dancing in delight. His toes sought out her wetness, finding her bud and caressing it as she took more and more of his shaft into her mouth. They both pressed onward, and found their limit as she bottomed out on his long shaft, her throat relaxed to take his erection, while his foot was embedded in her up to the ball of his foot.

The storm raged outside, rain lashing against the windows and lightning flashing blue around them. A hand touched his testicles, tracing their curves and squeezing gently while her thighs clamped his foot securely as it worked in and out. Soon they climaxed together in the midst of the wind, fire and rain, not giving up until every tremor was gone.

Before she came up again, she licked every speck of wetness from his foot, working his toes gently, before replacing his footwear. When she returned, she spooned the milky melted ice cream and liqueur as if she were never gone. The storm moved away and the patrons and staff returned to the restaurant.

"So what's our next move?" he asked.

"Oh, you trust me now?"

"So far, Slut Sister. I trust your sincerity for the time being, but I'm keeping my eyes open."

Nodding, she licked the back of the spoon while looking deep into his eyes. "That's all I could expect. The first step is Aunty Pru: she's the one who could lure Mom somewhere we could grab her. She'll take a bit of persuading, but we can have a little reunion with her as we make her see the wisdom of taking our part. Next week there's a poetry conference she's going to. That's when we can grab her without Mom getting wise."

He nodded. "Then we break Mom and make her our slave. The paperwork will be easy: all we have to do is grab her fake passport and threaten to turn her in. The submission will take longer, but will be fun for the both of us. Were you thinking of passing her back and forth?"

Her eyes became misty and her mouth drooped. "I was thinking of joint custody. I've missed you, baby bro, and I'd like to try again. We're two halves of the same whole, and between the two of us, the world doesn't stand a chance. You can still take care of Adele and use her nurse as your personal playtoy, maybe we can talk Prudy, Chelsea and the kids into visiting once in a while and make it one, big happy family. Maybe you'll let me take a shopping trip here and there on my own dime. We can work it out."

"I'll think about that. We should make some plans this afternoon. You said you have an apartment here?"

"Yes, and my calendar is free, as well as my cunt and ass."

He finished his iced tea, and signed the check as it was delivered. "It will be like old times, Sis, only better."

Justine smiled at her brother and licked her lips.