Whatever It Takes

by Ben Boswell

  "You two aren't worth it," she said cryptically.

  She turned back to me. "It should just be Jerry downstairs. No one else has been here this evening."

  I nodded and shoved Sal back into the hallway.

  Jerry was so focused on the game that he didn't notice anything was up until Kris put the gun to his head. She disarmed him quickly, and while I kept my gun pointed at them, she used the high strength zip ties to bind them individually to the balustrade.

  "You'll regret this," Sal said as we moved to the front door. "Next time I see you, I'll kill you."

  "Ditto," I replied.

  We ran through the front door to freedom.

  _____

  We were under no illusion that the zip ties would hold them for long. Kris was barefoot, so we moved slower than I would have liked. Finally, I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder and carried her down the hill.

  It's a miracle we weren't stopped. But after so many things going wrong, we finally had a run of good luck. I put her down once we got onto the jog path. We scampered through the pass through and across the street. Inside the car. I turned the ignition and the engine roared to life. Without a pause, I hit the gas and lurched into traffic.

  I'd done it. We'd done it. I'd rescued Kris. We were free.

  CHAPTER TEN

  We were driving. It took me a moment to realize we were both crying. I wanted to look at her, but somehow couldn't bring myself to do it. Was I worried about what I might see? I was driving fast, too fast. But I was barely in control of my emotions. It was Kris who finally pulled it together.

  "Daniel, slow down. We're safe. Just slow down."

  Her voice had a calming influence on me. It always had. I forced myself to breathe, collect myself.

  "Where are we going?" she asked.

  "To the hospital. And we need to call the cops."

  "Slow down," she replied. This time she wasn't talking about my driving.

  "Kris, after what you've been through, we need --"

  She put her hand on my forearm. "I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm okay."

  "But --"

  "Daniel, please." She paused. She took a deep breath. "Daniel, what those men did to me... it's what men have been doing to women for centuries. I don't need a doctor, not yet. What I need is clean clothes, a shower, and to see my kids."

  I kept driving. I could hear her words, but they weren't getting through.

  "I could also use a doughnut and a coffee," she said. She pointed to a Dunkin Donuts by the side of the road. "Pull over.... Please."

  It was such a prosaic request that somehow it penetrated my haze. I pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop.

  "Daniel, look at me."

  It was oddly difficult; I couldn't get my muscles to respond. Finally, I willed myself to do it.

  She was sitting beside me, still wrapped in the maroon bed sheet she'd stolen from Sal's home. She had a sad, pensive look on her face. But she was my Kris. The girl I'd fallen in love with when I was thirteen. My first love, my only love. I had almost lost her. I struggled to keep it together.

  "Oh God, Kris, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't gone with Jessi that night. I should have fought them, shouldn't have let them take..."

  She shook her head. "No, no, Daniel, no. You're my hero. You rescued me. You kept our kids safe. It's all my fault. If I hadn't invited Jessi to stay..."

  "No, you were just trying to save her..."

  "And what did that get us?"

  "I should have been able to protect you."

  She shook her head sadly. "Daniel, there was nothing you could have done. Not without getting yourself or me hurt, not without risking our kids." She reached out and brushed my cheek. "I don't blame you," she added simply.

  I just nodded. I couldn't speak. She gestured toward the store. "Get me a chocolate glazed, okay? And a coffee."

  "Okay. There are clothes in the back."

  By the time I returned, she'd changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. I handed her the doughnuts and coffee. She took a bite, a gulp. She sighed contentedly. "This is the first time I've felt normal in three days."

  "Are you okay?" I asked. "Really okay?"

  "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I'm not sure it has all hit me yet. And anyway, we're not really out of the woods."

  "We could be. We can just leave town. Take the kids and make a new life somewhere else."

  She shook her head. "We can't. We'd have to start over from scratch, with two kids in tow. We'd always been looking over our shoulders." She paused. "I'm guessing you didn't really have ten kilos of coke in that safe?"

  "Powdered sugar."

  She laughed darkly. "Right, so, we're going to need to do something about Sal."

  "I should have just killed him when I had the chance."

  "No. That would have destroyed our lives as surely as anything else."

  I nodded. I knew then what she meant when she muttered that they "weren't worth it" back at the house. And she was right. But I was still at a loss about how to proceed. All my thoughts had been focused on getting Kris back. But now that I had her, I had no idea how to get our old life back.

  "We need to find Jessi," Kris said firmly.

  "I found her," I replied. "And then she got away."

  "What?"

  "Ugh. Let me start from the beginning."

  I relayed the whole story from my end. I told her about the night at the Four Seasons. About taking the kids to my mom's. About raiding our savings and giving money to Sal, all for naught. I told her about visiting Jessi's old lodgings, and then the strip clubs. I forced myself to come clean about the lap dances, and then I started to explain about Amber.

  “I thought she was my only chance to find Jessi. I didn’t know what to do, how to get her to cooperate. Oh God, Kris, I…”

  I couldn’t continue. Couldn’t get the words out.

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “I… I had sex with her. I paid her for sex. I needed to keep her close, get into her apartment to look around.”

  I shook my head in disbelief at my own behavior.

  “And?” she prompted. Her tone was cold, distant. Or maybe that was just me projecting my own emotions onto her.

  I wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. An apology? Did she want to know if I’d enjoyed it?

  “It worked. Jessi about walked in on us.”

  She nodded, but I could still feel the disappointment radiating from her. As much as she had tried to reassure me, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d let her down.

  I plowed ahead. I told her about confronting Jessi, and then getting surprised, getting knocked unconscious. I explained how the conversation with Jessi had given me the hint about where Sal lived. And that I explained how I'd found her, and how I'd rescued her.

  It was an ugly mixed bag. But she had just listened, asking the occasional question. Never judging, at least not openly. I kept waiting for her to explode. I was sure she would when she heard the details of the night in the hotel, or about me having sex with Amber, but she didn't. She'd didn't reassure me, but she didn't explode either.

  And after, she sat quietly. He hands in her lap, thinking.

  "We're certainly in a new land, aren't we?"

  I nodded. I wasn't quite sure how to take it. "I wish we could go back."

  She gave me a wan smile. "Me too. But I don't think we'll ever be able to get back completely to how things were."

  "We can try." I took her hand in mine. I was grateful that she didn't push me away. "What do we do now?"

  "I need to tell you my side of it first," she said.

  "You... you don't need to," I replied. I had heard enough. Seen enough. She didn't need to pick at those scabs.

  She looked me in the eyes. "Yes, I do. You need to understand. Otherwise, you'll come to hate me when you find out."

  "No... I..."

  She put her finger to my lips.

  "I didn't
fight them. Not once. I made my decision early. I don't know if it was the right one. Should I have traded some bruises for a modicum of pride? I didn't think so. I thought it was inevitable that they would take what they wanted, so I didn't see a reason to fight them. Do you understand? I submitted to them, completely. Gave them what they wanted, when they wanted it."

  "You didn't have a choice," I replied sadly.

  I realized with a start that part of my sadness came from the implication of what she’d believed or feared.

  “You didn’t think I’d come for you.” I said.

  She hesitated. “I knew you’d never give up on me.”

  She hadn’t denied it, and by not denying it, she confirmed it. From the moment those men had come into our house, she’d felt like she was on her own. That she’d have to survive and escape purely on her own wits and wiles. That she couldn’t count on me.

  "There's more," she continued, unaware of my inner torment. "I wasn't just passive. I didn't just lay there. I knew the better I was, the sooner it would end, the less likely they would be to hurt me, the more likely I would be to walk out of there healthy and sane. It was self-preservation, but it'll look the same as enthusiasm on film."

  "Film?"

  She nodded. "He recorded hours of it."

  I groaned. I understood her concern. It wasn't so much the possibility of blackmail or humiliation, though that was another factor we'd have to consider. She was more worried about how I'd react when, inevitably, Sal maliciously arranged a showing.

  "Kris," I began, "do you hate me for what I did with Amber?"

  She paused. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I wasn't there. I don't know if there was another way. I don't feel like I can judge you. I trust that you did what you thought you had to do."

  She was being easier on me that I was on myself.

  "You understand that I enjoyed having sex with Amber?"

  She nodded.

  "So how can you think I would judge you?"

  "Okay."

  It was an ambiguous reply. She was still beating herself up, as was I. And I couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't for the same reason. Yes, I'd done what I thought I had to with Amber. And it had gotten me the lead I needed to find Kris. It had also gotten me zapped and, I rubbed my forearm, maybe drugged. And, if truth be told, I had enjoyed it. Had she also enjoyed her time at Sal's? On a purely transitory, physical level? Was that the source of her guilt?

  "Kris, you are everything to me. You have been ever since we were in Mrs. Stenton's homeroom in eighth grade. All I could think about these last three days is getting you back. And now, now that we're together, I'm not going to let anything get between us. Not my guilt. Not my fears. We're in this together."

  She looked up at me, her eyes wet, tears running down her cheek. "I love you, Daniel. And I always will."

  I pulled her close, into a tight hug. We sat there for what felt like hours, until the sky began, slowly, to brighten.

  "I want to see the kids," she said finally.

  _____

  We drove to my mom's and spent the day with the children. We played games, tickled their little bellies, took pictures. My mom seemed relieved to see Kris and me back together. So much so that she didn't question it when that evening we asked her to keep them a few days longer.

  The transfer from our retirement savings had finally cleared and we'd withdrawn the last ten thousand dollars we had in liquid assets. We gave my mom an envelope of cash, asked her to take the kids to visit my sister in Dayton. She read something in our tone, and agreed without comment.

  We kissed the kids and left. With both of us crying like babies, we found a residential motel and got a suite. We paid for a week in advance. It was grimy: A nasty, rusting kitchenette, a cramped living room, and a small bedroom. It was a place for transients on their way to the bottom. We hoped that wasn't us. But for now, we couldn't go home. Not until we'd gotten clear of Sal. This would be our base of operations as we tried to recover our lives.

  _____

  Kris took a long shower, long enough that it was obvious she was hoping to wash away the past three days. I waited for her in the lumpy double bed.

  She climbed in with me naked, her body warm, still a bit damp. She'd dried her hair as well as she could, but it was still wet, lank.

  We lay on our sides, our faces inches apart. We didn't speak, just looked at each other for a long while. We could hear cars roaring past on the road, the sounds of TVs in adjacent rooms, occasional voices, some happy, some angry.

  I'd stripped off the stained bed cover, thrown it into a corner of the room. We pulled up the thin sheets, the worn blankets.

  "Will you make love to me?" she asked softly.

  I frowned. The question made me sad. It was a reminder that she saw herself as soiled somehow.

  "Only if you'll make love to me," I replied.

  I leaned forward and kissed her. Just a kiss. Just our lips touching. Hers were so soft, as they had always been. I didn't touch her, remembering a time when I didn't dare. For a long time we were back in junior high, thirteen, fourteen, just kissing, the feel our lips touching intoxicating.

  She licked my lip. I grinned. She was always the more forward one. I responded quickly, more confidently than I had back then. We kissed more passionately now, our tongues intertwined.

  She reached out, grabbed my ass. She gave it a firm squeeze. I returned the favor. She felt so familiar, and yet somehow, so novel, the past three days a chasm between what was "then" and what was "now."

  I slid my hand up between us, cupped her breasts. I laughed.

  "What?" she asked.

  "Nothing," I replied. She didn't push it.

  But I was thinking about the first time I'd had the guts to grab her boobs under her shirt. God, I'd spent weeks, weeks, thinking about it, planning it, debating it. And when I'd done it, she hadn't protested, not in the least. I had just cupped them, slid my hand beneath them, weighed them. It took me another two weeks to work up to touching her nipples.

  Back in the present, I let my thumb slide over her nipples, feeling them stiffen at my touch. I licked my thumb, circled her areolas. She moaned softly. According to conventional wisdom, bigger tits are less sensitive, but Kris' have always been exquisitely responsive.

  There was a time, after we'd started exploring our sexuality, before we'd actually had sex... she'd rub me through my jeans. She was off-limits below the waist. God, I was eighteen. She could make me come just by resting her hand on my crotch. I don't think I'd ever given her an orgasm. I'm not sure I even knew what a female orgasm was.

  I remembered that night. I could recall playing with her breasts. Cupping them at first. Then playing with her nipples. We were under a blanket. Always. Somehow, our fooling around was always in the dark, under covers. I didn't see her breasts in bright light until we were married, and even then it was always in a non-sexual setting, coming out of the shower, changing. We always made love in the dark.

  And then we were back in the present again. We were kissing. Wet, sloppy kisses.

  Just like when we were eighteen. I'd played with her nipples until they were rock hard, until they seemed ready to burst. I'd ducked under the covers, sucked a nipple into my mouth, hard. I was flicking at her other nipple. I remember her begin to squirm, her hips gyrating. Then suddenly her breath caught. She gasped and grabbed me by the hair, thrusting her tongue into my mouth as her hand rubbed my crotch vigorously. I came hard, in my jeans. It wasn't until later, much later, that I realized that was the first climax I'd given her.

  With that memory in mind, I ducked beneath the sheets and took her nipple into my mouth. My hand trailed down, over her belly, down between her legs. I withdrew, startled, when I realized she was shaved. Even after seeing Jessi's shaved snatch, been intimate with Amber's, feeling it on Kris felt foreign, weird.

  "It'll grow back," she said softly. "If you want," she added, uncertain.

  "I know. It's just... different."


  I felt a surge of anxiety. What else would be different? I resumed my explorations. I cupped her mound, letting my fingertips trace the shape of her sex. I slid my thumb over her labia, feeling them plump at my touch, just a hint of wetness of within. We kissed, tenderly and yet passionately. I ran my fingers up and down her slit, feeling her open for me, that most erotic of sensations, a sensation that was so much more distinct now that she was shaved.

  She snaked her hand into my boxers, stroked my cock firmly. I was rock hard. Any sign of excitement from Kris has always done that to me, more surely than direct stimulation could do.

  "I want you inside me," she moaned.

  I peeled off my t-shirt, wrenched off my boxers. She was grasping at me, pulling me with her fingertips. I slid between her widely spread legs. She maintained her firm grip on my cock, sliding the head between her labia.

  I gasped softly. It felt so good. Such a rare treat. We hadn't had sex without protection since we were trying for Justin. I had the sad realization that the only reason we were doing so now is that Sal and his buddies had spent a good twenty-four hours finishing inside her already.

  I forced that image from my mind, thought instead of our first time together. I smiled. It had been awkward and stressful. In retrospect it sounds so romantic, losing our virginity to each other. In practice, with the condom and the diaphragm and the spermicide, it had been messy, and not in a good way. And it was quick, neither of us quite sure we'd gotten it right, but too shy to voice our concerns.

  She released my prick, our practiced sign that she was ready. My cock sunk into her wet pussy. We both moaned together.

  "Oh, that's nice," she sighed.

  "Hmmmm."

  She wrapped her arms around my neck. We kissed. Wet, deep, passionate kisses. I thrust inside her, long, slow strokes. She felt so good, my Kris, no different than before. I could feel her hard nipples against my chest. She lifted her legs off the bed, wrapped them around my waist. I thrust in deeper.