Whatever It Takes

by Ben Boswell

  "Are you clean?" she asked.

  "Are you?"

  "Well, I guess we're gonna find out."

  She hesitated. "You sure you know Star?"

  "Tall, skinny, almond eyes. Salamander tattoo on her leg, some weird poem on her rib cage. I think her real name is Jessi. She let it slip at one point." I held my breath. That last bit might have been too much.

  She nodded. "Okay, Trent. Let's have some fun. Meet me at the corner of Fremont and Lane in fifteen minutes. If they see us leaving her together, I'll never work here again."

  She escorted me out of the VIP room and gave me a kiss. She disappeared into the back. I went over to the bar and ordered another beer from the same bartender as before.

  "So, did ya have a good time back there?"

  I forced a big goofy smile. "Hell, yeah. The girl's an animal."

  "You don't know the half of it," he said with a knowing leer.

  I drank my beer quickly, my mind racing. What the hell was I doing? I was investing most of the money in my pocket and most of an evening getting myself into a position to... what? Even if they'd been friends, shared tricks, whatever, I had no reason to think Amber would lead me to Jessi.

  I tried to plumb my emotions. I was so tired, so frustrated. Was I even still thinking about Kris? No, I knew I was. I'd been replaying the images of Sal taking her over and over. His fat cock spearing her shaved cunt. The sight of him between her legs, pumping away. The image of his come leaking from her abused pussy.

  It made me want to scream. But I was also unaccountably angry with her. I couldn't shake the sensation that's she'd submitted to him too easily, that she was being too accommodating, and had been from the moment she dropped to her knees before him in our living room.

  Intellectually, I knew she'd had little choice. But I couldn't stop myself from feeling betrayed as well. It wasn't fair. It was an evil, selfish feeling, and I hated myself for having it, but I couldn't deny it either. I couldn't help but wonder whether part of her submissiveness was not just self-preservation, but also an act of vengeance against me for having let myself get dragged into Jessi's world.

  Those feelings clouded my judgment. I could make an argument that Amber was my best lead, my best opportunity to track down Jessi and to rescue Kris, and that I should do whatever I needed to stay close to her, get closer even in the hope of catching some sort of break. But at the same time, I couldn't help but wonder if I wasn't just inventing a rationale, an excuse to fondle another woman, to have sex with another woman, to repay Kris' "betrayal" with one of my own.

  _____

  My instincts were coarsening. I was seeing schemes and grifts in everything. As I got into my car, I pulled out the gun, placed it under my thigh. It occurred to me that I just agreed to meet a stripper at a deserted street corner in a dicey part of town and that I had let her know I had over a thousand dollars in my pocket. I was inviting a mugging or a carjacking or worse.

  But after a few minutes, she walked up, alone. She'd changed into street clothes, jeans and sweats. She peered into the car cautiously before climbing in. She still had on her makeup, her perfume.

  "So sweetie, where to?" she asked.

  "Can't go to my place," I said. I waved my wedding ring at her. "And I'd rather put hotel money toward a tip. So, your place?"

  "Okay," she replied quickly. "But it's a mess, and I have roommates."

  "Anyone I would know?" I asked, hinting about Jessi.

  She picked up on it right away. "Why do you care? Looking to trade up?"

  I thought fast. "After that dance you gave me, I think it would be a trade down. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about how much fun the three of us could have together."

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  "Okay, I live over by the arena. You know the way?"

  "I think I can get us there."

  "Good, because I'm gonna be busy," she replied, as she leaned into my lap. "Drive," she commanded even as she unzipped my fly.

  I pulled out into traffic, and she pulled out my cock. I gasped as she swallowed me deep. I still had my pants on, and it was a little awkward for her to get her head in my lap, so it didn't feel particularly amazing physically, but mentally it sent me reeling. Not only was this the first time I'd had my prick inside anyone but Kris, it was also my first time doing this in a car, and knowing Amber was a whore, a total stranger....

  The loud car horn shook me out of it. I'd begun to swerve into the next lane, into the path of a huge black SUV. I swung back into my own lane and it passed me, a very angry looking black man in the passenger seat yelling abuse at me through two sets of closed windows. As they drove away, I realized Amber was no longer sucking my cock. I looked down at her and she gave me an amused grin before getting back to work.

  _____

  She didn't live far. When we arrived at her block, I parked and she led me to her apartment. It was a converted warehouse. The developers had probably hoped the area would turn into a new SoHo, but instead it was still a dark, dangerous area.

  We went upstairs to her apartment. It was a large loft, and would have been lovely in the hands of an individual with a few bucks and taste. But in this case it had been subdivided into four individual sections with ugly sheetrock walls reaching to the ceiling. We passed a kitchen, the counter space and pantry also subdivided, and a common living room that the residents seemed to use for storage of boxes, bicycles, and other large items.

  As we walked through the flat, I looked for any sign of Jessi. I could easily imagine her there. It had that sort of messy, transient feel that I associated with her. But as far as I could tell, Amber and I were the only ones in the loft.

  She led me into her room. She'd "decorated" it in the same style Jessi had our au pair suite, with clothes, cosmetics, and other crap scattered about. I wondered if being a stripper turned girls into slobs, or whether being slobs is part of what made them strippers. She cleared her bed with a dramatic sweep of her arms, then patted the not-so-clean sheet with her hand and invited me to get comfortable.

  "Let me freshen up, and I'll be right back."

  She didn't have anyone to collect money for her, so I figured I should probably leave it out somewhere. I counted out ten hundreds and placed them on her bedside table.

  She returned a couple of minutes later, wearing just a sheer, short bathrobe. She spotted the money and gave me a satisfied nod. Then without hesitation, she slipped the robe off her shoulders and onto the floor. She was completely naked.

  My eyes were first drawn to between her legs, to her shaved snatch. I didn't know if she was a natural redhead, but with her pale complexion and freckles, it seemed likely, and I found myself wishing she'd left some red muff in place. I quickly took in the rest of her. Without the stripper heels, she was a short girl, all tits and ass, a very similar body type to Kris, I realized. Is that how men saw my Kris? I shuddered as it occurred to me that somewhere, across town perhaps, Kris might be in exactly the same position, standing naked in front of a virtual stranger, knowing he would soon be invading her with his hard cock.

  "This works better if we're both naked," she said. Her tone suggested both amusement and a hint of impatience.

  I realized we were working at cross-purposes. She wanted to get this over with as fast as practicable and get me out of there. I wanted to drag it out as long as possible and ideally get a chance to explore the loft.

  "Why don't you come help me?" I replied.

  She sort of shrugged her shoulders, but came toward me anyway. She reached out and began unbuttoning my shirt.

  "Do you have any music?" I asked.

  She gave a small sigh, but then dug out her phone from her bag and plugged it into a mini speaker, filling the room with a Hip Hop beat. I thought to ask if she had anything else, but decided against it. I wanted to take my time, but not get her so exasperated with me that I lost any possibility of cooperation.

  She came back and resumed working on my shirt. She pulled it ope
n and ran her hands along my rib cage, her hands cool and dry. She encircled my waist and pressed her face against my chest, her tongue snaking out to flick at my nipples.

  I shivered in surprise.

  "Do you like that?" she asked.

  I nodded. Her hands followed the waistband of my chinos around to the front. She unbuckled my belt, then unbuttoned my pants and then pulled down my zipper. She reached down into my boxers and confidently fondled my prick, alternating between sucking on my nipples and pressing her own into my belly.

  After a few moments, she dropped to her knees. She looked up at me with her big, grey-green eyes, and yanked down my slacks, taking my underwear down as well. She helped me step out of my pants and I helped out by tossing aside my shirt. I was naked, save for my socks. I thought of taking those off as well, but she took my mind off that by returning her attention to my package.

  She was stroking my cock firmly, alternating hands between my shaft and my balls. She was inspecting me with what seemed like professional attention. As I hardened fully, she pumped my prick more forcefully, harder than Kris had ever done, but I really liked it. Amber definitely knew her way around an erect penis.

  "You have a really nice cock," she cooed.

  I blushed a deep red. It felt like Eddie Van Halen telling me I played a nice guitar.

  "Thank you," I replied.

  She smiled and swallowed me whole.

  "Oh God," I moaned.

  She bobbed up and down on my cock, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked on my member. It felt nice, but it was almost too much stimulation. I would never be able to come from such a forceful approach. Kris' softer, wetter mouth was ultimately more enjoyable, a thought that, with a shudder, I realized seemed to confirm the results of Sal's blowjob contest.

  Amber seemed to misinterpret my shudder. "Are you close?"

  I shook my head.

  A twinge of disappointment crossed her face, but she quickly suppressed it.

  "Good. I want to feel your hard cock inside me," she said.

  She turned and crawled over to the bed, shaking her ass at me, looking over her shoulder with a "come hither" gaze. She climbed up onto the mattress and rolled onto her back. She spread her legs wide and began to play with her pussy, her arms pushing her breasts together to accentuate her already amazing cleavage.

  Even though my wife was just as attractive, had just as hot a body, there was something about Amber that was, for me, uniquely erotic. Maybe it was that she was a stranger. Maybe it was her complete lack of modesty, her willingness to be spread eagle in a well lit room, playing with her snatch, plunging two fingers inside herself.

  "Come on, baby, can't you see how wet I am for you?"

  My mind felt like it was operating at half speed. Was it the lack of sleep? The half-dozen drinks? Or just that I was working in an erotic fog?

  "I want to eat it," I groaned. Was I just trying to drag it out? Did I really want it?

  "Really?" she said. The request seemed to be outside the usual john playbook.

  I nodded, but didn't really wait for her permission. Instead, I approached the bed and dove toward her snatch. I placed her legs over my shoulders, spread her pussy with my fingers, and licked her deep.

  She shuddered and let out a soft sigh, which felt like one of the first genuine responses she'd given me all night. Encouraged, I continued to eat her out, feeling her wetness coat my face, her body squirming as my tongue probed the depths of her vagina. I took her clit in my mouth, sucked it hard. She gasped passionately, ran her hands through my hair.

  Then suddenly her fist closed and she yanked my head upward by the hair. I yelped in pain, worried I'd hurt her or something. But she just looked at me, wild eyed.

  "I need your cock inside me," she said urgently. "How do you want me?"

  I only hesitated half a second. "On your hands and knees."

  She smirked. "Your wife doesn't like it doggy style?"

  I didn't need to answer. She could see it in my face. Kris didn't like the lack of intimacy, always wanted us to make love face to face. And, of course, like many women, the name "doggy style" was a complete turn off. The first man to be able to successfully rebrand the position into something less coarse would deserve a Nobel. But none of that seemed to bother Amber. She flipped over and waved her ass in my direction. Reaching between her legs, she spread her pussy open for me.

  I climbed up onto the bed, rubbed my cockhead against her juicy labia, and with a quick thrust, buried myself inside her, only the second pussy I'd ever experienced. God, she felt nice, hot, very wet.

  Immediately when I entered her, she began thrusting back against me, rolling her hips and sliding her snatch up and down the length of my shaft. I let her do most of the work, contenting myself with running my hands all over her body, rubbing her firm ass, fondling her hanging breasts.

  When she paused for a moment, I seized the initiative. I grabbed a handful of her thick hair and yanked back as I thrust into her hard.

  "Oh God," she sighed. "Is it okay if I come?"

  That question almost made me come as well. But I took a deep breath and slowed myself down. "Of course."

  She began to grind against me again.

  "Pinch my nips," she gasped.

  I did as she asked, firmly rubbing those grape sized nipples between my thumb and finger, and was rewarded with a satisfying gasp of pleasure. She continued to fuck backward against me, harder, harder, and then she reached back with her hand, and plunged her middle finger deep into her own ass.

  "Fuck that's hot," I hissed.

  But she was in her own world. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she cried out.

  And then suddenly, she went silent and her pussy began to spasm wildly on my cock.

  "Oh fuck, that was good," she said. She fell forward and rolled onto her back. She spread her legs wide and beckoned me to take my place between. I crawled up and between her thighs and buried myself back inside her.

  She reached down and grabbed my ass, urging me to fuck her harder. She was moaning and gasping in my ear, telling me how good I was, how much she loved my cock, how she wanted me to come inside her. I knew it was mostly an act, but it still felt good to hear it, especially since I was pretty sure she hadn't faked the orgasm.

  I thought about Kris. I wondered if Sal, and the others, had made her come as well. I knew she was being held against her will. But Amber was only with me because of that stack of hundreds on the bedside table. Regardless of intentions, we only have so much control over our own bodies. I pictured Sal's fat, ugly prick forcing its way inside my wife, and I also pictured her pussy, stretching for him, accommodating him. Had she come when he'd fucked her? Was she coming even now, impaled on his thick cock?

  I still had those thoughts in mind as I felt Amber slide her finger between my butt cheeks. I didn't have time to protest before she pressed her middle finger deep into my ass. I saw stars, literally, and came so hard that for a moment I couldn't breathe.

  I rolled off her and onto my back, gasping for breath.

  "First time anyone's done that to you?"

  "Yes," I replied.

  My mouth was dry. My heart was racing. Slowly, I got myself under control, tried to clear my mind. I had to remember what I was here for.

  "That was amazing. You were amazing," I continued.

  She chuckled and added in a surprised tone, "Yeah, I had fun too."

  I was going to make a joke about getting my money back, but decided it was likely to go down like a lead balloon.

  "I am so happy that I ran into you instead of Star."

  "I'll have to tell her when I see her next."

  "You run into her often?" My heart was beginning to race again.

  She laughed. "You could say that. She's staying down the hall."

  I fought the urge to leap upright and check the other bedrooms.

  "Is she here now?"

  "You still thinking about that threesome?"

  Despite my recent mind-blow
ing orgasm, I still felt my prick stiffen at the thought of it. Jessi might be an evil bitch, but from what I'd seen she was also a world-class lay. The things those two might do to me, to each other...

  "God, I'd go for that in a heartbeat," I replied.

  "Well, you might be in luck. I think I might have heard her come in while we were fucking."

  My excitement at having potentially caught up to Jessi mingled with guilt at having been so lost in the moment that I hadn't noticed someone's arrival in the loft.

  "Would she be up for it?" I asked, trying to sound eager and horny, which wasn’t that difficult since I was eager and horny.

  "Only one way to find out."

  Amber got up and reached for her sheer bathrobe, flashing me her bare pussy in the process. Again I was struck by how shameless she was, they were, these strippers and whores. Their bodies, their sex was just an instrument to them, something they used to get what they wanted.

  She strode out into the hallway. I pulled on my boxers and peered out after her. She knocked on the second door on the left, and then stuck her head inside. After a few moments she withdrew. I slipped back into her room.

  "Sorry, Trent, she's not up for it," she said when she returned. "But if you want more, we could work out a deal for an overnight."

  I nodded. "Sounds great. Can I, um, hit the head first?"

  She pulled open her bathrobe and hopped back onto the bed. "First door on the right," she replied. "I'll be waiting." She cupped her breast and pinched her nipple.

  My heart was pounding as I walked down the hall, past the bathroom, past the first door on the left, to the second. For a split second I wondered if Amber had just been faking me out, whether Jessi, or anyone actually, was even in that room. Not that it mattered. I was going in there no matter what.

  I grabbed the knob and twisted it firmly, shoving the door open in one motion.

  "Fuck Amber, I told you, I'm not interested in double-teaming your trick."

  She was hunched over her phone, curled up on a ratty futon, an old desk lamp perched precariously on one of the many cardboard boxes in the room.

  "Good to see the money's not going to your head."