Rule Number Three

The bedroom was marvelous, with a huge old-style four poster canopy bed, with a soft feather mattress and pillows of all shapes and sizes. A bottle of champagne was chilling on the nightstand next to a vase with two long-stemmed red roses, which caused Chloe her last blush of the afternoon. Seeing that I dismissed Tomas, giving him another twenty, thanking him and telling him the suite was more than adequate, which it was.

Chloe thought she was in heaven, pausing now and again to peer out the windows at the expanse of white beach sand and the blue ocean just beyond. When she saw the workstation facing out a window set up with a computer and the cell phone sitting next to it she beamed over at me.

"Wow," she exclaimed. "You know, other than my dog almost being run over, and me getting tied up, stripped and almost raped, this has probably been the best day of my life!"

We both started laughing, and somehow ended up in each other's arms, kissing passionately and falling onto the bed. It felt great, and I wondered how it could be that I could have the thoughts I was having with someone I had only met a few hours earlier. It was more than carnal lust at this point. I felt a tickle on my heartstrings; something I hadn't felt since Jessica had left me for her lawyer boy up in Chicago.

I eased away gently, breaking our kiss. We both needed a second to bring the world back into focus, then we began laughing again.

"Look, I'm not gonna try to analyze any of this, Chloe, or confuse myself and how I feel right now with words. But I'll tell you this. I think you're great!"

I stood and smoothed my clothing, now rumpled from our embrace. "I hate to leave you, I really do. But I've got some stuff I have to take care of this evening before I go out of town."

She looked disappointed, but said nothing, understanding that everyone's got things to do in life.

"Will you come back when you're done tonight?" she asked.

"It's gonna be after 11 when I'm through. But I'll come over then if you'd like. I don't want to keep Benji up past his bed time, though."

Her little dog perked his ears at the sound of his name and wagged his way over to me. I've always liked big dogs, but I have to admit this little guy had plenty of personality.

Chloe nodded her head yes, that she would like that very much.

"Grab that cell phone and dial my number. That way I'll have yours and you'll have mine. I'll give you a shout when I'm on my way, if you still want me to come over by that time." I gave her both my cell number and my home number to program into her new phone. "You know how that thing works, right?" I asked, not knowing if she had been around cells up in Omaha.

"Yeah, Chris," she deadpanned. "Even out there in the cornfields and stockyards we came across one of these here contraptions once in awhile. Usually left behind by some city slicker from New York or Los Angeles."

"Are you makin' fun of me?" I asked.

"No, are you makin' fun of me?" she fired back.

"No, I just figured that being a dumb old girl and all, you may not know how a cell phone works."

"There's nothing to understand. It's just plain old magic," she shrugged with a grin. "You dumb old boy."

I pulled a couple of bills from my wallet and tried to hand them to her, but she refused.

"I can't take your money, too," she complained. "You're already doing so much for me. I can't tell you how it feels to be out of the condo, knowing that I can sleep all night without waking at every little sound."

That reminded me to call the local police and explain Amanda's situation without going into too much sordid detail. I wanted to head off her father in case he started to panic, claiming his daughter had been kidnapped.

"You can charge whatever you want to eat to the room. They can go out and pick up groceries for you, too. It's all part of the concierge service offered to their guests. They'll bring you magazines, you can get a massage and facial, get your body waxed, whatever. Don't worry about any of it. I worked a deal with the GM, so it's on the house," I lied.

I gave her another long kiss, finding it harder to pull away from than the one just moments before. She was definitely having an effect on me. I walked out the bedroom with her following along, and made it to the entry foyer before she called to stop me.

"Chris," she said in almost a whisper. "When you come back tonight...."

"Yes?" I asked, wondering what she was trying to say.

"Maybe you should bring a condom with you. Maybe a couple."

Damn! I was wrong about that blush when she spotted the champagne and roses being her last for the afternoon, because another one lit up her face as soon as the word condom left her mouth. She turned and ran back inside, giggling like a school girl.

I walked down the steps, trying to keep the boner that was growing in my pants from developing into a full blown hard on.

I stopped by the front desk and gave them my credit card to run, and asked if Mr. Peroni was available. The clerk dialed a number and spoke briefly to someone, then turned to me after he hung up and told me the General Manager would be with me shortly.

It was more like five minutes, during which time I enjoyed the view of the babes lounging around the pool. More than one gave me an appraising stare, but I kept my eyes roving, not wanting to get anything started up. Vincent came up behind me, dressed in an expensive Italian cut suit.

"You're gonna look just right driving the Testa in that shiny suit, Guido," I joked. He and I were college buddies, both stars on our nationally ranked water polo team. We had taken diverse paths in our lives, yet still had many things in common, such as our love for beautiful cars and fast women. He was pulling down probably 250K a year in his capacity as the head man at the resort, but if I knew Vinny, he had some side ventures working as well, and maybe some of them were just a bit outside the law. He wasn't exactly a "made guy", but he was pretty close from what I could tell. I had seen some of his associates and him out on the town, and the coin they were spending on broads and booze was out of his quarter mil income range. Whenever he asked to borrow the Ferrari I knew he had some "people" he was trying to impress. What the hell, the car needed to be run once in awhile, and John never failed to pay back a favor in kind.

We hopped in my Mini for the ride back to my place so he could pick up the car. On the drive we chatted about this and that until finally I brought up my concerns about Miss Crosby. I told him the whole story, including the nasty stuff about her old man and his penchant for blowjobs from his only daughter. John shook his head in disgust, then asked if had considered that maybe I was being set up for a con.

"Oh yeah, it was on my mind right after she told me she was still a virgin, and that was right after she gave me the best blowjob of my entire life."

"No shit," my old friend remarked, sounding surprised. He loved letting his grammar slip to what I call 'gangster tough' when he was away from the hotel. "Even better than the double down with the Collier twins?"

Man, I had forgotten about that fun little romp with a pair of totally hot and totally shameless nympho sisters, who worked their way through every men's team on campus, starting with we water polo studs. "Whole different ballgame there, partner. But yeah, this was unique in its utter devotion to my pleasure. Sweet almost. Hard to explain."

"Sweet don't sound like a pro, and if she's as young as you say, it's not likely that she is one. But better to find out for sure. There are plenty of girls who get started doing the poke and choke by age eleven these days. Sad."

He looked out the window at the gorgeous day then said, "I'll tell you what. I'll let the cops know that you and I have taken her under our wings, and maybe I'll have a couple of my boys catch up with her old man and put a little fear into him. Nothing rough, just a warning to scare the bejesus out of him. Let him know that his kinda crap don't wash here in Miami. I'll have him shittin' soup for a couple of days, scared that he's about to lose his job, his reputation and what's left of his family... not to mention maybe his freedom and a couple of front teeth."

I nodded my head in agreement.

"So you like this girl, don't you? Dude, I can tell just looking at you. And she certainly is quite the spanker," he agreed, using a term he and I coined back in our college years to describe girls young enough to spank for being naughty, but still old enough to fuck for fun. "If you don't mind me saying it.... I watched her on the videocams when you walked her through the lobby. Get her out of those baggy clothes and I see yummy with a capital Y."

He sighed, knowing that I was one of the Nice Guys deep down, and was probably going to end up getting worked by her in one way or another. "So what are you doing for this girl you just met today, besides putting her up in the most expensive hotel in Florida?" He knew me too well.

I chuckled mirthlessly and then shrugged. "She wants to go to art school to become a sculptor. I told her I'd help her out."

Vinny started laughing so hard I thought I'd have to stop the car so he could get to catch his breath.

"Let's see... there's tuition, and books. And housing, and meals, and expenses, and you'll probably want to buy her a scooter, or maybe just give her this car. Then she'll need an allowance for makeup and foofy shit for her little dog.... You know, Chris, it might be cheaper if you just marry her." He was still laughing, which got me laughing along with him.

"Well," I corrected, "until I find out more about her, her allowance is limited to her stay there at your fine establishment. I've got a meeting with the Dragon Lady tonight. Turns out she's the broker for the condo her father moved them into when they moved here from Omaha. She's gonna give me the numbers on the old man."

"Holy shit, you do got it bad!" John choked. "The Dragon Lady? Haven't you been there already man?"

"Yeah," I acknowledged glumly. "About two and a half years ago. She wants a rematch. I'm heading there in just a little while."

"What about Baby Snooks back in the bungalow? You gonna go there afterward and let her catch a whiff of the Dragon?"

"Doesn't really matter. She's a virgin, remember? I'm not gonna try to tap that. You know what happens. I even tried explaining the Rules to her, but she wasn't buying any of it."

"Man, you are losing it!" he snorted. "Trying to explain the rules to a virgin is like trying to explain radioactive half-life to a Ubangi. What made you even think she'd get it? I mean come on, how long did it take us to get it?"

John was one of my oldest friends in Miami, and he and I along with six or seven other 'players' had come up with the Rules on a boy's night when we all converged on the same bar to drown our sorrows, each having his own sad tale to relate of how if he had only understood The Rules, he would be getting laid at that very minute.

"I dunno man, I was trying to get her to understand the scenario that will unfold when she finally decides to give it up to some sad sack. I was trying to make it clear that there was only one way I'd want in on it, and that would be to understand and obey the lesson of Rule Number One; screwing her and then saying an immediate adios."

"Slick move, ace. I bet she really appreciated that. Well, it was nice knowing you, Chris. The damage is already done. She'll want you all the more now. Bro, your goose is cooked and you don't even know the oven's been turned on!"

"You think?" I asked rhetorically, knowing he was right on the money with his assessment. Hadn't she suggested I bring some condoms on my return? She knew she had me right where she wanted me. There was no way I was going to walk away from her either way. And she knew how bad I wanted to bury my meat rocket in her.

He started chuckling as he thought of something which I knew I had to be the butt of.

"What?"

"What, he asks," he replies mocking my feigned innocence. "I'm just thinking that before you get to ruin a set of my three hundred dollar silk bed sheets, you're gonna have to do the monkey dance with the Dragon Lady tonight, that's what!"

He tried not to laugh too loud, being a friend and all, but pretty soon he was snorting and chortling at the thought of me and that woman in her apartment. Vinny had been there, oh yes indeed. He reported to our group the following evening that he was afraid he was going to die, the way she was sitting on his face making herself get off repeatedly while she yelled at him to chant the Hare Krishna in as deep a voice as possible. "Breath control! Breath control!" she would yell, while grinding her snatch on nose, chin and tongue, "Give me low notes! Lower! --- Lower! Aiiieeeee," she'd wail like a banshee. "Yes! That's it! Now through your nose! Hummmmmmm. Hummmmm," she'd urge, panting like a race horse after a mile sprint.

When John started humming through his nose I almost stopped the car and put him out. He reached over and punched me in the arm, making it throb for a moment.

"Always the martyr for the righteous cause, eh Chris?" he joked. "I respect you, man, I really do. Not many guys would go to all this trouble just to bang a barely legal honey for her first time. I have no doubt you'll make it real special for her. And better you than her old man coming onto her drunk some night, slobbering all over those pretty tits of hers and ruining her forever. You'll just fuck her up for a few years is all. Hell, by the time she's twenty-two she'll be good as new. She'll have forgotten all about Rule Number One and how it broke her heart. Yep, she'll be working on old Number Two, thinking that every Tom, Dick and John who nails her three times is her future ex-husband."

"I guess I didn't tell you about Rule Number Three," I mumbled.

"What? There is no Rule Number Three!" he shouted. "We all tried to come up with one, but decided that no more rules were necessary once the first two were understood and obeyed.

"I told her that Rule Number Three negates the first two rules." I paused, looking over at him while he glared back wearing an expression that could be considered a cross between revulsion and pity.

"OK, so what is it? What's Rule Number Three? --- Man, I gotta feeling this one's gonna be a killer," he muttered just loud enough for me to overhear.

"You have to understand that she didn't take the first two rules well at all, John," I said, trying not to whine. "She was crying. It was horrible."

"Pathetic might be a better word," he said as an aside to himself, "and I'm talkin' about you."

I took a breath and told him what I had made up on the spot to make Amanda feel better. "Rule Number Three states that if both people are in love with one another, there will be no resentments left behind as the aftertaste for the girl who gave the guy her cherry."

"Jesus, man, you know that isn't true!' John scolded. "She'll still end up hating him, just maybe not so soon!"

"Wait, there's more," I sighed. "Rule Number Three, again based upon the man loving the woman, and she having strong feelings toward him, assures that there will be no Rule Number Two. No, three times in the sack and then everything goes to hell in a hand basket'."

"What a load of crap!" John cut in.

"I know," I agreed miserably. "I told her that true love between a man and a woman means happily ever after."

"Ack!" John gasped, holding his stomach. "Stop the car, quick! I gotta hurl!" He was faking it of course, since we were by this time already sitting parked in my driveway, but I got his drift.

"Happily ever after? Like in the kiddie story books? And from you, the guy I remember standing on the bar at the Clevelander and pronouncing those Disney stories that end with that very line are what have caused every woman in America to be so fucked up? You hypocrite! You liar! You should be ashamed! You should never have tried explaining the Rules in the first place, but that was still better than your Rule Number Three --- that dirty fucking lie about true love --- whether she was crying or not."

John was only half faking his disgust with me, and he was absolutely right. What I had done was beyond despicable. I had given the girl a false hope, which when inevitably dashed upon the rocks of reality would prove to hurt her much more than the contemplation of the original and very true Rules One and Two. Rule Three was no rule. It was just as John said. It was a dirty fucking lie, just like the Disney lie of happily ever after was one.

"Ahh, Karma," he said after staring out the window at a blue jay hopping along the wall that surrounds my home. "What?" I asked, confused.

"Karma, man. You told the girl a lie, and right after that you were forced into a rendezvous with the Dragon Lady, just to pump her for information about this girl you're falling in love with and her mean old daddy. You'll be doing some pumping all right, and some humming too, I reckon. That's Karma, and you'll be paying off your lie in spades to that crazy woman."

To further make his point he started humming through his nose again, recapturing his usual happy mood in the process, with both of us ending up laughing and taking turns punching each other in the arm until I finally called uncle. John could always hit harder than anyone I'd ever known, even my older brother Steve, who had trained as a boxer before joining the Marines and getting his ass shot off in Iraq. He died because everyone except the soldiers knew the body armor they wore wasn't worth squat. Talk about fucking liars, and the trickle down effect of leadership setting the tone for the entire workplace.... Let's take a look at the current regime in the White House and all the king's men. In my opinion, from Bush on down there isn't one honest man to be found. Just a bunch of power mad, right-wing theocratic zealots who tell lies even when the truth fits better.

John interrupted my reveries and brought me back to the moment when he remarked, "But you're still an asshole for making up that rule just so you can con a virgin into the sack, and you know it. You've gotta figure a way to undo that man, or I think the Karma wheel will just keep rolling back and forth over you till you're flat."

"I know, Dude, I know," was all I could muster up for an answer. I had been thinking the same thing.

I got out of the Cooper and pulled open the garage door in front of the Testarossa. I always pull it out of the garage myself, fearing insurance hassles if someone else bangs it into something on my property. It jumped to life on the first bump of the starter, the engine's twelve cylinders reverberating in that way that only the Italian's can achieve. I let it idle for half a minute to get the oil pumping throughout the block and over the heads, then ran up the RPMs a few times before putting it into gear. I really didn't like driving the Ferrari all that much, because it wasn't very comfortable when compared to most cars. But I'll admit that it was a pussy magnet extraordinaire, and when there were no cops and an open stretch of highway, the fucker went so fast it felt like your hair was on fire.

John gave me one more vicious punch to the arm to let me know he cared, then said "OK, sport, thanks for letting me use the car. Or I guess I should say for you to thank Brij for me. I'll swing by the cop shop to see if anyone there wants to race. While I'm there I'll mention that what's her name, Amanda Crosby, is staying at the hotel on your tab. That will raise some eyebrows, I'm sure. I told you not to bang the commissioner's daughter way back when, but just like now, you can't keep your libido under control. My only hope for Amanda is that the Dragon Lady wears you out tonight. Hey, and just so you know, I'll tell my housekeepers to be alert for anything unusual with the linens from your bungalow, you nasty bastard."