Rule Number Three

She struggled against them, eyes closed and not saying a word.

I felt like the Big, Bad, Wolf with Little Red Riding Hood, although there was no way the girl in the fable could have anywhere near as hot as Amanda. Why she chose to hide her incredible beauty behind baggy clothes and funky sunglasses was beyond me. With her hair down and out of that clown suit she was a knockout.

She began whimpering first, and then crying; little sobs racking her with hiccups as she lay there quivering with fear. Each little gasp made her perfect tits rise and fall, and whether she knew it or not or wanted to be or not, her nipples were poked out like pink pearls. I could feel something crawling around inside my head, urging me to have her like that – sniffling and sobbing while I pile drove her young pussy with my mighty python of love.

Little Benji was going crazy, scurrying around the room looking for a way to get up on the bed. He knew his mistress was frightened, and that was my first clue that maybe she wasn't lying about being a virgin, and that maybe she was really scared. I lifted him up onto the bed, which settled him down immediately, although he was shaking as hard as she. I picked up her little knapsack and pulled out some weird kind of wallet thing, looking for her ID. I wasn't doing anything else till I knew she was old enough, much less who she claimed to be.

There was a Nebraska driver's license for Amanda Crosby. Born October 5, 1987. A pretty good photo of the girl tied up in front of me on it. Thirty odd dollars in the billfold, a long distance calling card, a sleeve of photos of what must have been her and her mother, and two of Amanda and a big bruiser of a farm boy who looked like he was on his way to becoming a beer drinking redneck with a bully-boy sneer and a gut that would hide his dick from him for the last forty years of his life. I pictured this little whore kneeling before him, slurping on his uncut cock, with him coaching her to hurry up and get him off because they were about to miss the rodeo highlights on country music television.

After a few long moments of gazing lustfully at the hottest bodies I've ever laid eyes upon, the blood cooled behind my eyes and I regained my normal state of mind. I slipped the restraints off her. I put her clothing on the bed on the other side of her from Benji, but she made no move to put them back on, laying there comforting her little mutt while she looked steadily at me.

I sat alongside her on the bed and stroked her hair. She sat up and hugged herself into my chest, crying fitfully and begging my forgiveness for whatever she had done to make me angry with her.

Could it really be true, I asked myself? Have I just made a horrible mistake? "Amanda, are you serious about being a virgin, or are you playing a game with me?" I asked her softly. She nodded her head yes to my first question and shrugged and shook her head to the second.

"Lots of girls do that, you know," I continued, trying to explain what had just happened. "They get into the role playing of the innocent virgin so they can act out a rape fantasy," I said, still keeping my voice filled with warmth. "But now I'm getting the feeling that I've maybe read you wrong...."

She didn't say anything as she just kept her face buried against my chest, now wet from her tears.

I stood up and paced for a moment before sitting back down. "Damn! I feel like a total shit heel!" I shouted, staring blankly at a wall. Benji growled at me while cowering behind Amanda.

I looked down at her again and said tenderly, "You're so beautiful! It's funny. When I first turned and saw you in the middle of the street I thought you were kind of plain. You know, the clothes and all.... But then when I got a better look at you, POW! It hit me like a bolt. I said to myself, 'This girl is gorgeous!'. And you're so sweet and smart and funny."

"Really?" she asked plaintively in a little girl's voice. "I thought I did something to make you mad at me, and that's why you were punishing me."

"Oh, no, no, no sweetheart. Nothing like that. I'm so sorry to have frightened you," I said with more emotion than I thought myself capable of.

She looked up beseechingly at me and asked, "You think I'm smart? Really? And pretty?" She hesitated and then admitted, "I've always thought I was some kind of stupid freak. I never had a chance to make any real friends because we were always moving. And my mom and dad were so devoted to each other that when they were together I always felt like I was intruding. If I said something they didn't agree with it was, 'Amanda, you're so stupid.' Or, 'Don't be an idiot.'" She started sniffling again. "And when I told my folks I wanted to study art they both just laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing they'd ever heard."

I pulled Amanda to me and just hugged her for a long time. The strain had burst the dam inside her that held bottled up emotions. She began crying into my shoulder again.

"My dad has never said one nice thing about me! When my mom was alive he was always telling me that I would never be as good as her --- as pretty as her --- as smart as her. I felt like I was just something they got stuck with and had to drag around with them. He's even worse now!" she wailed. "He acts like it's somehow my fault that his Lainey is dead. That's what he always called my mom. 'His Lainey.' You know what he calls me?"

I shook my head no. She started bawling like a baby, then when she recovered enough she told me.

"He calls me something he thinks is really clever. It's like a play on my name, and I hate it. Usually, when he's putting me down like he loves to do, it's 'A-Man'. He always telling me I'll never have a body as beautiful as my mom's. I was real flat chested up until about six months ago. But now, since I began filling out, the way he looks at me is different. It's scary. He just stares and stares at my body, and I can tell what he's thinking...."

Well that explained the baggy clothes.

"When he's pissed at me for no reason other than he wants to be pissed about something he calls me 'A-Man-Duh', emphasis on the Duh, like I'm stupid. Or sometimes just Duh. And he expects me to answer when he calls me that. Don't you think that's mean?"

"Yes, honey, I do," I agreed softly, trying to keep the disgust from my voice. I've seen my share of parents who weren't fit for the job, but Amanda's parents were just about the worst. How could a father belittle his lovely daughter like that? It made me want to go over and pound the shit out of the guy.

I hugged her again, noticing with some surprise that neither of us had made any effort to put on more clothing. She was still clad only in her baby blue panties, and I was completely nude. At least my boner had gone down, which amazed me because there I sat holding the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. The most beautiful 90% naked girl I've ever seen.

"The worst part is when he gets drunk," she continued, looking into my eyes, trying to help me understand what she didn't want to say. "Then he...." She stopped, unable to continue. A few deep breaths later she looked down at the geometric patterns on the bedspread, tracing one with a finger. "When he gets drunk he makes me do that to him. What I just did to you. It's the only way I can calm him down. It's only been since his Lainey died," she said, "but I see how he looks at me now. I know one of these nights he's going to come into my bedroom and want me all the way." She started sobbing uncontrollably before sputtering, "And I don't know what to do! I love my daddy, but I can't do that!"

Man, my head was reeling at this point. Here was a girl who lived in a state of constant humiliation and a fear of being raped, and what had I almost done not ten minutes before? Jesus and Mary! If her little dog hadn't made such a fuss I would never have believed that she wasn't just playing the 'submissive' role in order to act out her desire of being taken by a tall, dark stranger. It's no lie that about a quarter of the women on this planet have that exact fantasy. But Amanda was obviously not one of them.

"First of all, what's your middle name, or what nickname do you like? I promise I'll never call you Amanda again."

We were both sitting with our feet on the floor, side by side on the big bed. She smiled up at me and said she'd always liked the name Chloe. "Like the smart newsgirl Chloe Sullivan from the TV show Smallville."

"I know I look nothing like her," Amanda \ Chloe admitted embarrassedly, "but I like her way of going after the truth, and the fact that she's a true friend. And that she's not afraid to put herself in scary situations to get her story."

"Chloe it is!" I agreed with a nod of my head in approval, thinking that Amanda looked much more like the totally hot Lana Laing character on the show, played by Kristin Kreuk. Yum!

"Next, I want you to know that in the two hours I've known you that you have made one hell of an impression on me," I said, hoping I didn't sound patronizing. "You have a passion and you want to pursue it. Not many people have any idea what a passion is, and would be afraid to claim it if they did."

That got her smiling for the first time in a while. "Now I have to apologize again for doing what I did to you," I said in a tone of remorse. "The last thing --- the absolute and positively last thing I would ever want to do," I emphasized, "would be to scare you or hurt you or make you do anything you don't want to do! OK?"

She nodded her head and smiled at me again. She reached out and put her hand over my heart. It was a simple and touching gesture, and it made my eyes tear. She noticed that, and took one of my hands and placed it over her heart. Beneath the soft flesh of her breast I could feel the steady thump of her heart.

"I guess I gave you the wrong impression about me, didn't I Chris? I can see how you might. I just about begged you to bring me over here, and then I ambush you when you come out of the shower.... I just wanted to show you that I like you a lot, and to say thanks for saving my dog and being my friend."

She shuddered with a thought and looked away for a long moment before speaking again. "When you were undressing me, and then tying me to your bed --- it was so weird! I didn't see you at all. I kept seeing my father. That's why I could hardly speak. I was so scared. I know that's how it will happen some night. I'll be fast asleep and then suddenly he'll be in my room doing just like you were. And then..." Her voice dropped off leaving the horror unspoken.

I stood up and paced the large room, and from the corner of my eye I could see little Benji's head following me back and forth. I looked over at him and laughed, causing him to jump to his feet on the bed and begin wagging his tail furiously. This got Chloe laughing. He was the best thing in her life, and I was damn glad I had gotten to him before he was run over.

I stopped and turned to Chloe and asked, "If you could do whatever you wanted to do, what would it be?"

"Like, what do you mean? Go to art school? Move out from my dad's? Find a good job and not be dependent on him anymore? That kind of thing?"

"Exactly. And I think you just named them. You've already told me of your desire to go to art school. And it's obvious you've got to get away from your father. He sounds like a ticking bomb. And truthfully, I'm tempted to report him to the FAA, just because he sounds a little disturbed to me. I sure wouldn't want to be a passenger in a plane with him at the controls."

I didn't want to humiliate her further, but I was wondering what kind of sick perverted son of a bitch forces his teenage daughter to suck his dick. Fucker needs to be in prison, and if he's so desperate for a blowjob he can probably get or give as many as his cold little stone of a heart desires.

"So, Chloe, here's what I'm thinking. I'm an alumni of the University of Miami, which has a terrific fine arts department. If your grades are reasonable, I'll get you an appointment with the dean of admissions. And then I'll sponsor you for as long as you attend, with no strings attached. If you want, I'll help you find a job so you can get an apartment, but the dorm housing on campus isn't too bad. At least for a while."

She was looking at me with a stunned expression, unable to speak a word.

"One of my good buddies, a guy who I would trust with my life, owns a restaurant and nightclub over on the beach. He's always on the lookout for attractive and dependable young ladies to wait tables and hostess. All on the up and up, but just so you know, a lot of the girls who work in other clubs on Collins or Beach sideline as escorts for the high dollar clientele. I see nothing wrong with prostitution personally, but the unfortunate consequence is that typically the girls either get into drugs and end up hagged out in just a few years, or they get so burnt out on screwing anything that has the bucks that they turn off from sex completely. And in your case, that would be a crime, because you haven't even experienced it yet, and lemme tell you, it is a beautiful, magical thing. Especially when two people are in love."

'Are you in love with anyone, Chris," Chloe asked softly, not looking at me.

"I was for a long time," I admitted sadly. "She was my college sweetheart. She had her dreams and I had mine. They just didn't mesh. She lives in Chicago now and is married to a hot shot attorney. She still can't believe that I've been successful at what she called my silly hobbies. She phoned me a few months ago, drunk. She and Chad had had a fight and she wanted to get away for awhile. I almost invited her down, but it suddenly dawned on me that the door on that part of my life had closed and to reopen it was to step backwards. And I'm all about moving forward."

I sat down next to Chloe and took her hand. "Anyway, that's all history, and that's where we are going to put your old life if I have anything to say about it."

"I'd like that, too. But it seems like you're doing all this stuff for me and I'm just a nobody. What happens if I don't live up to your expectations? And how will I ever repay you for what you're offering to do?"

"First things first," I said authoritatively. "First thing is we get dressed, although I have to admit you look damn fine naked. Then we jump in my car and go back to your pad and you grab some clothes and makeup and whatever stuff you need for a few days. You can leave a short note to your father, but I'd only say that you've found your own place and you need some time away from him because you know what's been happening isn't right and you're scared. Let him stew for a few days. He's been more than rotten to you and not just recently, Chloe. I don't want you to hate him, but you have every reason to."

"I know," she agreed quietly. "I just know how much he misses my mom. I guess I let things get out of hand. I try fighting and telling him no every time he comes to me for... that. I'm always afraid that he'll either hurt me, or throw me out on the street."

I took her in my arms, hugging her like a brother this time and scolded, "Don't ever, ever, ever tell yourself that what's been going on is somehow your fault, you hear me? He's been taking advantage of you, and he's an adult. And your father, for God's sake."

"Yes sir," she apologized meekly.

"You can stay here for a few nights, and I'll teach you how to drive the scooter so you can get around. I'll call my buddy tonight and see about getting you a job. Tomorrow I'll call the registrar at UM. Can you get your transcripts sent down? You can send them here, or I'll set up a post office box for you so you'll have your own address." My mind was going at its normal speed of a million miles an hour, thinking about everything we needed to do to extricate my young friend from her current situation and instead put her on a path which brought her confidence and fulfillment.

And as my mind was spinning over all this new terrain, it took an off ramp and ran down a side road that went all the way to Omaha and back to the Brickell Tower, where Amanda, now to be known as Chloe, said she was from and was now living. Yes, my mind hit the old "What if?" and almost came to a complete screeching halt.

What if, indeed. What if this young woman was running an elaborate con on me, seeking access to my home, my art treasures, my collection of rare plants, my computer and all the proprietary knowledge stored on it so vital to my business, past, present and future? What if I had been staked out and the ruse of the little dog was just that? How could I not rescue Benji from what was sure to be his last run? How could I not stop and talk to the lovely maiden, so innocent, so charming, so naïve and now, in such danger from her brutish father? Maybe it was just that the blowjob she gave me was too damn good to come from a girl who only did it to her boyfriend once in awhile. Oh yeah, and of course, to her dad, who she was afraid would rape her if she didn't. Or maybe it was that little smile, the kind someone gives when they know the hook's been set. I was a good candidate for such a scam. A young, nouveau riche former pool boy, suddenly finding himself living the good life, naïve, trusting and ripe for the picking.

"Damn!" I said suddenly. "I almost forgot. I leave early tomorrow morning for a meeting in Tampa. I'm driving over so I can stop by a couple of biological supply companies where we get the raw material for the glue I invented on the way back. I'll be gone a couple of nights, and one condition of my insurance policy on my home is that nobody stays here unaccompanied. So I guess you'll have to stay in a hotel while I'm gone. Then you can move your stuff into one of the other bedrooms once I get back. What's your preference? Here in South Beach, or over on the mainland? I know the GMs at both the Loews and the Shores so I can probably squeeze you a room at either. Both are five star properties. I personally like the Shores, but that's just me..."

"How about if I come along with you? " she suggested.

"I'd like that, but I don't know how long the meeting will last, and then they'll want to go out to dinner.... You know, the all night party deal if things go well. These guys are pretty repressed, so when they get a chance to let their hair down they go crazy. And as their guest I'm obliged to hang with them."

"You know, Chloe, there is something else. Like I said, I think you're terrific, at least from what I know about you. And I feel real bad about pulling that stunt on you," I said hanging my head in shame. "I almost wish we hadn't done that other thing, because I know I won't be able to get that out of my mind whenever we're together," I admitted, causing her face to turn rosy red once again.

Damn, I thought to myself. How does someone fake that if she is setting me up?

"But I guess we need to proceed as friends from here on out. I'm not presuming that you want to be my girlfriend, or want me as a boyfriend. I'm only saying that I respect your virginity and the value you place on it."

No matter how bad I want to bone the shit out of you, I thought to myself.

I paced the floor again, mainly trying to figure out if she was a genuine damsel in distress or a very good hustler. "I guess I'm getting too far ahead of myself with all this. Let's just slow it down and do things one step at a time. I'll take you over to your condo so you can grab some things, and while you're doing that I'll call and get you a room. I wouldn't worry about leaving a note, unless you think that's best. Maybe you can call your father tonight and tell him you're not going to let him do that to you anymore."

"OK, Chris, whatever you think is best," she agreed complacently.