Cabin In The Woods

by Kristine Robinson

  I listen, mind delving into a world completely and utterly far removed from mine. Where I had riches, and never wanted for anything, Andrea had nothing, and faced that reality every day. I struck out, because I didn't want to just live my life on my parent's money, though I admit I miss some of the things I could afford with said money.

  “I started stealing early, because I wanted my mom and dad to eat too. I lied about where I got things from, and I was caught out, given the sit down about how bad it is to steal. But I kept doing it. And, you know, I made money. I learned a very... specific set of skills and got myself stuck right into the criminal underworld. And you know what I did with every heist? Every time we succeeded on robbing a bank – I dumped ninety percent of my earnings into charities. My favorite one's the local dog shelter my mom fights for. Rest of the cash went to my parents, and enough for me to afford a few pretty things.” Andrea grins, clearly proud of her accomplishments.

  I nod in fascination, surprised and amazed by her confession. It does, however, bring one question to mind. If she was successful, and she gave her earnings away, and never got caught – not that we would have ever met if she still operated in that circle, then why not stay? She didn't have to leave, did she? It makes me wonder. I think, if I were in her shoes, I might have wanted to stay.

  “Why did you have to fake your own death? Why did you want to leave?” I ask. I sit on the sofa next to her now, staring into her dreamy eyes, trying to control my breathing, in the hope it will help transfer the effect to my fast beating heart. I like seeing how animated and passionate she is about giving away her riches – something I did as well, to pursue my career.

  At this, her face droops, placing darkness on her beautiful features. She lifts up a hesitant palm. “Chavo joined my group, and undermined my old boss. He turned us into something violent and nasty. When he killed an innocent civilian on one of our routine bank runs, I didn't want any part in that. I told him I couldn't condone it. He threatened me. And well. There was no other way for me to get out, unless he thought I was dead.” She lets out a sigh. “Apparently I couldn't stay dead for long. Just when I believed I might be able to settle into something normal with you – Alison – the ex I told you about, contacted me saying Chavo knew I was alive. He was hunting me.”

  I scowl momentarily at the mention of Alison, but I'm otherwise hooked. If this is the real Andrea, the woman behind the mask, then I think she's amazing. She's not some heinous criminal that I need to put in cuffs and lock away. She's someone who worked on the other side to do good.

  Which, let me tell you, is fucking hot. I think my attraction meter to her has overloaded. Controlling myself takes a supreme amount of effort. “So you can't go to the police because of your shady past?”

  Andrea nods. Her sinuous body stretches out on the bed, practically inviting me over to it. “That's right. Being killed or ending up locked in jail for the rest of my life – neither are things that particularly appeal to me. But if I can lead you to Chavo, and have you help me get him off my back, well – that's rookie points for your career, and a safer, better life not having to have eyes in the back of my head.”

  “Mm hm,” I say absently, my gaze now drifting to the divide in her top.

  “I want to turn my life around. Now I'm out of that world, I want to stay out of it. Become someone respectable, who can walk around proudly with the money in my pocket, and not someone who fears someone discovering where I really got it.”

  I set my jaw, putting a halt to my mounting arousal to focus on Andrea's heart and mind. The whim and gamble I took on helping her has solidified into something else. I want to help her. I don't want her to die, or be locked up. Not when she clearly desires there to be good in the world. She just grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.

  And, somehow, still ended up with a shining soul.

  I could fall in love with someone like that.

  Confession time as well, those were the sort of characters I adored in my shows. The loveable rogues, the thieves with a heart of gold, the ones who did good in their own way, even if it wasn't always the accepted way.

  “I'd like to help you achieve that aim. I understand why you couldn't be so truthful to me before. Kind of hard to be truthful to a cop that you're a former criminal.”

  She grins. “Slightly. You made me super jumpy when you mentioned about the fact I was looking over my shoulder. Almost as if you knew something I didn't.”

  “Shame,” I murmur, now kneeling on the bed as I scrutinize her stunning body. “Because we wasted a lot of time not getting to know one another. Time I intend to make up for...” my voice comes out a purr. My fingers brush over her exposed flesh, and I marvel at how soft her skin is.

  Her eyes blacken in lust. She watches me for a moment, like a snake eyeing its prey, before she lashes out, grabs me by the scruff of my neck, and yanks me towards her. I tumble on top. Her hair is a glorious mess about her face, and her eyes are suffused with desire. I shiver at that expression, drown in it. I am arrested by her attention, and she pulls me close enough for our lips to touch. It is primal and raw, feeling her smooth, rubbery flesh brush mine, to taste the salt there and to inhale the fresh clothes scent of her. My feelings churn on overdrive, giving into waves of lust that I hadn't realized I'd been holding back. I mean, I knew I'd been holding something back. Just not quite this much.

  I abandon all caution, all fears and doubts, and just plunge into her, wrap my arms around and press our bodies together. She lets out a mewl of satisfaction, before seizing the sleeves of my top hard, and tugging off my low cut shirt. We rip at each other in a frenzy, fighting to get each other's clothes off, and I can tell it's been a while for both of us, because she looks almost mindless with lust. Who knows what I must appear like to her, if I seem too eager, or wrought with the need to have her in me, to be in her.

  “I want you,” she hisses, blue eyes ablaze, long fingers tugging off my not-really-a-skirt and panties. She's positioned herself to be firmly on top, one knee wedged between my thighs. Not to be outdone, I struggle to get her out the rest of her clothes as well, because I badly want to see the body that lies beneath. I'm not disappointed, either. She has delicious curves, and my hands fit snugly into her sides, squeezing as I visually devour the rest of her body. Her chestnut brown hair flares out like a lion's mane as she tosses her head backwards. She's gorgeous, and I'm lucky as hell right now to have her naked above me, staring at me with lust filled irises. She's all I've ever imagined, and more, and that's saying something.

  “I'm all yours,” I hiss back, and she shudders, before lowering her lips to my mouth again, kissing hard and deep, passion animating every inch of her body. I dig my fingers into her back and arch into her, and she moves her lips to bite at my ear, groping me with surprising strength. I didn't realize just how powerful she was from her tall frame. Even with my training, I think she might be able to overwhelm me if she put her mind to it. I allow her hand to trail down to my throbbing core, though I'm tempted to shift away and try and assert authority over her. She slips two fingers into my wetness, and lets out a moan of satisfaction as my insides envelop where she enters. The touch electrifies me, and I gasp out loud, eyes rolling back. It's been too long since I've had someone inside me like this, with a far better angle than what masturbation achieves.

  With a moan, she thrusts inside me, sometimes curling her fingers so she can hit my g-spot. I'm shaking within moments, unable to bear such sweet torture. She's not even touching my bundle of nerves, and that's something pretty damn special if she can make me climax from nothing else but her movement inside.

  Of course, she senses that I'm getting close, and in a gleam of evil, she withdraws, just as I'm on the cusp, to stop me from coming so she can play with my further, and grin at my indignant reaction.

  “That was so mean! I was about to come. Like, seriously!”

  “I know,” she whispers, and she glides her hand over my core, teasing me, making me moan from the tortur
e. I can't believe she's doing this. I had been so close. I don't think I can withstand prolonged torture from her for long, before I'm begging and pleading for her to finish it, to make sure that the surge courses through my limbs and leaves me unmoving afterwards.

  I do give in. “Please,” I whimper, body shaking from her teasing, “Please...”

  She pretends to contemplate my request for a moment, before she says, “I suppose I can let you come...” Her fingers slip inside me once more. She instantly strikes up a hard and fast pace, making me shudder violently, and I moan. She feels so good inside me, and I love how she looks, so full of determination, as she moves her fingers, her whole arm working along with them to add additional pressure and force.

  I cry out as the orgasm coils inside me, and is released by her expert ministrations. She's hot, and amazing, and I'm like putty underneath her body. I can't move anything at all, because it's as though the connections to my extremities have me cut.

  The climax mellows me out, flattens me into the blankets. I sigh relief and drown in bliss, eyes firmly shut.

  It doesn't take long, however, before she idly circles one of my breasts with a finger, making me open my eyes again. She smiles innocently, and says, “Round two?”

  This time, I purse my lips as I pretend to contemplate her offer. There's no question, really. After that orgasm, I'm ready for a hell of a lot more. “How about as many as we can possibly fit into one night?” I reply. Her answering grin is evil. I match it, knowing that neither of us will be getting much sleep.

  At all.

  Chapter Five

  I wake up, and for a moment, I stare at Andrea's sleeping form, content.

  Then, my eyes are drawn to something else. It takes me about a second to register that we're not alone, which is quickly inflamed by panic and horror.

  “Hello there, dykes,” Chavo says, grinning viciously. His mean gray eyes glare out of his square jaw face. A woman stands beside him, sneering, her perfect red lips twisted into something spiteful.

  Andrea by now has woken up, and glares daggers at the woman. “Alison. Fuck you.”

  “You wish,” Andrea's ex says sweetly. “Should had taken me up on my offer when I asked.”

  “You sold me out because I wouldn't have sex with you?” Andrea rubs a palm over her eyes, and I see she's trembling in fear. Whilst this little exchange is going on, I've reached for my phone underneath my pillow and after a few attempts, swiped it off lock.

  “Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound very nice, does it?” Alison replies.

  It's not just Alison and Chavo in the room. There's three other people there are well. One appears to have headphones in his ears, and is clearly listening to a song right now, apparently unperturbed by the sight of two naked women in a hotel bed in front of him. The other is a plump man who is twitchy like a mouse, his eyes darting from side to side, trying to look everywhere but at us. A man with tattoos on his fucking eyelids, as well as the rest of his face, sneers cruelly at us. I vaguely match his appearance to Andrea's description of Tonio.

  “We're not going to kill you,” Chavo says, now narrowing his eyes at me, “Yes. You thought you'd get this cop whore's help, did you, Andrea? Too bad.” He clicks his fingers, and the thug with the tattoos draws out blindfolds. “Scream, however, and you will find holes in your heads. Promise or not.”

  Finally, I've called the chief on my phone. I decide to chance muting it so they don't hear him pick up and answer, and I pretend to let out a whimper of fear and duck under the covers, just to buy myself a few precious seconds to complete the call silently.

  “Oh, get up, you stupid bitch.” Chavo sounds delighted at my fear, however, and if I'm honest, it's not much of a stretch to for me to actually be terrified.

  “What are you planning to do with us?” Andrea's voice is shrill.

  Chavo pretends to look thoughtful as he strokes his chin. “Oh, plenty of things. Chavo got much plans for a whore cop and a stupid, robber traitor. Maybe if you're nice to me I'm nice to you, huh?”

  “You should quit toying with them,” Alison purrs, though her face is still stretched in that ugly smile.

  “Get up. Get dressed. Now!”

  Hastily, Andrea and me locate our clothes and put them on. In the meanwhile, Chavo keeps muttering about what he's going to do to us – all hopefully caught by Excelsior who should be listening on the other side of the phone. I feel a slight twinge of guilt – he's going to know from this that I lied to him about my grandma, unless I can fast talk him otherwise.

  After our clothes are on, Chavo and his goonies place blindfolds over our eyes, tie us up by the wrists and push us roughly out the hotel. Our pockets are searched for cellphones. I hear screams of shock through the blackness, possibly the staff and customers seeing Chavo waving his little gun and panicking as a result. I've ditched my gun at the office because I'm not meant to be packing official firearms off duty. So great.

  “I'm so sorry, Jenn,” Andrea hisses to me. My heart instantly goes out to her, because she's the one who is going to get the brunt of what this monster wants out of her.

  “Don't be,” I whisper back, before Chavo clouts me on the lip, telling me to “shut my whore mouth.”

  Fury boils inside. It's like listening to a broken record, everything he says. We're bundled into the back of what feels like a van – I hear the slam of door and endure the pungent smell of dog hair in the back.

  I don't know where we're going. I can only hope Excelsior caught enough of the conversation to figure out that we're in some deep shit. It helped that Chavo seems to be an ongoing narcissist who absolutely loves talking about himself. I wonder if I can play that to my advantage, and I focus on that idea now, instead of the nagging fear that there's no way out of this.

  The people in the shows always find a way out. I will as well.

  “Fuck,” Andrea says beside me. I feel her huddle up close, until she's snatched away by whoever else is in the back with us.

  “No getting cosy,” A soft female voice coos. Alison.

  I grit my teeth.

  I don't want to imagine what might happen to us under a violent sadist's hands. I just don't.

  Chapter Six

  Sunlight blasts my eyes. Heat sears my skin. My legs ache as, still blindfolded, we're forced to stumble up what feels like rough land, like perhaps mountain or desert. With the blindfolds off, I'm presented with the sight of arid land and mountainous terrain, with a sparse scattering of trees. I vaguely recognize them as the Wichita mountain range, near the Narrows, and Chavo and his cronies have parked us near what looks like a sheer cliff drop.

  This is looking better and better by the second. Chavo still wears that ugly sneer on his face, and I see he has a blade in his hands. I'm forced to kneel, and Andrea is tied into a chair that has been prepared in this spot earlier. The rock rubs against my knees. Feverishly, I work on untying my bonds. I had tucked a finger into the knot to stop it being too tight, but the strain of the odd angle my finger is forced in causes a wave of throbbing and additional discomfort.

  “First things first,” Chavo gloats, sauntering up to Andrea, who has converted her fear into defiance. “The traitor.” He flicks his blade in front of her face, and to her credit, she doesn't flinch. I keep reflecting on the sheer cliff drop, knowing that anyone who tumbles down it is unlikely to survive the impact with the jagged rocks below. My heart twitches fast, and dread slithers through me.

  That bastard better not hurt her. If wishes could actually come true. Chavo lives on other people's suffering. I see the way his face lights up in pleasure when he slaps her, and she lets out a grunt of pain. He better not seriously fuck her up...

  “The only traitor around here is you,” Andrea spits into Chavo's face. “You usurped Martin Dawes. He was a good man, and took you in under trust. I told you I didn't want to work for a murderer.”

  “And I told you the price,” Chavo hisses back, now waving the blade dangerously close to her
cheek. “You don't want to work, you can leave. In a body bag. We cannot have people with inside knowledge waltzing around. We are an operation within an operation. Part of the biggest and best criminal organization on the planet. Your boss was weak and had his head stuffed with pathetic dreams. I made us something to fear.”

  I see Chavo's jaw set, and a flicker of rage twitch in his eye. Spanish Honor. This guy has a twisted perception of what honor is, how people should treat him. He wants respect, but doesn't earn it. He forces it by subjugating others.

  “You are,” Andrea reiterates, “a shit human being.”

  Chavo's arm shakes. The knife plunges down. Andrea shrieks as it cuts her cheek, and runs a red line down to her collarbone.