Internet Dating Safety Warning

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There are no underage characters in this story. All characters portrayed are over 18-years-old.

A warning for women who date strangers on the Internet. Meet men you don't know in a public place instead of at their homes.

Rachel was nervous all week. Her first date in some time, she may be meeting the man of her dreams Saturday night. Corresponding with him for weeks, this could be it. She had a good feeling about him. He could be the one. He could be her Prince Charming and her Knight in Shining Armor.

With her biological clock ticking and her quickly reaching the age of having a child or not having a child, she'd love to meet someone to love, to marry, and to start a family. After reading profiles and writing to several men, with him showing interest and getting further with her than anyone else had, Jonathan seemed to be the best of the bunch. Exchanging e-mails, along with fully dressed, semi-naked, and then naked photos, and talking extensively on the phone, they decided to meet.

Against the warnings of her friends, instead of meeting him at a public place, Jonathan persuaded Rachel to come to his home. Even though meeting him at his house was against her better judgment, he assured her that he was a good man and she not only believed him but she trusted him too. For safety sake, even though her friends told her not to go to his house but to meet him at a restaurant, not suspicious of him, she assured her friends that he wasn't like that and she'd be okay.

"He's a nice, wealthy man with sad eyes and a kind face" said Rachel. "He's lonely and, just like me, wants to meet someone for a long term relationship."

Her friend Allison rolled her eyes.

"That's what they all say when they only want to get you in bed," she said sighing loudly. "For what little you know about him, he could be a serial killer, Rachel," said Allison.

Her friend Melissa shook her head in disbelief that she was so naïve and was too stubborn to heed their well-meant warnings and meet him at a public place instead of at his house.

"He could be a rapist, for all that you know," said Melissa.

She even ignored Stephen, the voice of reason who was always right about everything, especially about meeting people online. The dating guru, he had met dozens of men online.

"I agree with Allison and Melissa," said Stephen, her openly gay friend. "I'm a man who can handle himself and I'm still careful who I meet and where I meet them," he said pausing to make eye contact to make sure he got his message across before reiterating their warnings. "You should meet him at a public place, such as a restaurant. You never know what people are like until you meet them in person. Trust me. I know. I've met some real weirdos."

Ignoring their warnings, she had an ulterior motive for meeting her online Don Juan at his house. Not wanting them to think of her as a gold digger, she recognized the address. He lived in the old, Greystone mansion, a house she always wanted to see the inside. She assumed that he must have money to afford to live in such a grand home. A long shot but this could be her chance at romance, at love, at commitment, and at marriage. Willing to take the giant leap of faith and risk her safety for a loving relationship with a special someone, she had a good feeling about meeting Jonathan.

Besides, something she'd never confess to her friends, with her not having had sex in such a very long time, she was as horny as she was lonely and sexually frustrated. In the way that he was, no doubt, hoping for sex, she was going there hoping for sex too. Moreover, with her assuming him rich, she'd gladly exchange sex for a romantic relationship with a wealthy benefactor. Forget about going out to eat, going bowling, or going to watch a movie, after all of their salacious correspondences, she'd welcome his sexual advances.

As long as he was gentle and respectful and the sex wasn't forced, if judging him only by his photos, she'd love to have sex with him. With her having quick hands, an experienced mouth, and a talented pussy, one blowjob from her would make any man return for more. Only, cautious who she had sex with, especially if he wasn't the one, with her having kissed, fucked, and sucked enough frogs, she didn't want to have sex with every man she met online.

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Rachel parked her car in front of his house and walked up the long flight of stairs. She counted the stairs. There were thirty-six of them, twelve, with a landing big enough to fit a small table and chairs, twelve more with another landing, and the last twelve to the front door. Walking up his stairs, especially in her high heels was akin to walking up three flights of stairs. Only these stairs were wider and more difficult to negotiate.

When she reached his front door, instead of hearing a warning of misgivings in her gut, she felt a moistness in her pussy. Instead of feeling a premonition of fear, anticipating them having hot sex, she felt sexual excitement. Instead of feeling a foreboding sense of doom inside of her, she felt happiness that she was finally going to meet the man of her dreams. Instead of heeding the warnings of her friends to meet him at a public place, too late, she was already there at his home and ready to ring his bell literally as well as figuratively, she hoped.

With a grand entrance reminiscent of the private residence of the infamous Norman and Norma Bates' house of Bates Motel fame, or the famous The Addams' Family home, the exterior of the house had been recently refreshed. Coincidentally enough, with her doing some online research, The Addams' Family house was built in the same year as the construction began on Jonathan's house in 1888. Expecting Lurch, The Addams Family butler, to answer the door, "You rang?", Rachel rang the bell.

Never had she seen such a splendidly, handcrafted, front door. With all of the little details of the Victorian house clearly visible, the house was even more spectacular up close than it was from a distance. She pressed her future with one magical press of the doorbell. The doorbell sounded like the chimes of an antique grandfather's clock and she could hear the musical chimes reverberating behind the huge, double doors and throughout the great hall behind the front doors. Jonathan opened the grand, mahogany door of his house to welcome in his blind date, a woman he had met on the Internet.

"Hello. Welcome to my home. It's so nice to finally meet you in person, Rachel," said Jonathan opening his front door wide enough to give her a big hug and a full body squeeze.

By the looks on both of their faces, obviously liking what she saw as much as he obviously liked what he saw, she returned his hug and smiled.

"It's so nice to finally meet you too," she said. "You're so handsome," she said. "You look exactly like your photo." She didn't dare tell him that he looked exactly how she dreamt he'd look in her sexual fantasies while masturbating herself over the thoughts of having sex with him.

Oscar Wilde's, Dorian Gray, first published in 1890, the same year this house was completed, no doubt received the same compliment about being so handsome and looking just like his photo. In his day, with his slicked back hair and smart cape, Dracula may have been deemed handsome too. In the way that Jack the Ripper terrorized London's east end in 1888 and had his murderous way with women of the night, instead and unbeknownst to her, Jonathan had his sexual way with women. Drinking her beauty in with his eyes, with her delivering herself to him, in the way that all of the women have done, he took a step back to look at his blind, internet date.

"Your photo doesn't do you justice. You are so very beautiful, absolutely stunning, and totally captivating," he said leaning in closer to smell her and to whisper his words in her ear. "You smell delicious. What is that fragrance?"

Thinking that he was going to kiss her when he leaned into her to whisper to her, she smiled and blushed with his compliments.

"Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel," she said.

He stepped aside as if inviting her in a by appointment only, private museum and with much of the furniture original to the house, the house looked as if it was stuck in a 125-year-old time warp.

"Come in, please," he said. "Allow me take your coat."

He closed and locked the front door behind her, something that should have made her suspicious but too preoccupied looking at him, she didn't notice him locking the front door. As if already undressing her, he helped her remove her coat as he would soon be removing all of her clothes. He hung her coat on the elaborate coat tree that graced the reception hall by the front door. The front interior hall was resplendent with wool carpet, cherry paneling, and a grand oak staircase. Just as no expense was spared in building this fine home, no expense was spared in refurbishing this fine home.

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Dressed like a woman on sexual fire, looking like one of Homer's sexy sirens in the Odyssey, she wore the least amount of appropriate clothes beneath her coat. Flattering her figure, she was wearing a powder blue, low cut blouse that showed a lot of cleavage. Her blouse and bra both helped to perfectly enhance and advertise her large breasts. Indeed, if she was in one of Shakespeare's plays, her role would be acting the role of a sexy wench. Only, she didn't have to pretend to play a whore when she already was one.

Perhaps she sent him the wrong message and gave him the wrong impression of her, but whenever she moved her legs, her short, navy blue skirt with a slit up the middle parted. Showing too much of her thighs for a first date, hinting at what lay between her thighs, she was showing him a lot of her sexy legs. Definitely, if he was a leg man, he'd make a wish. Only, as he had already confessed in his correspondences, he was a breast man. Nonetheless, whether he was a leg man or a breast man, how she'd ever sit without flashing him her panties, if she was wearing any panties, was a mystery.

Obviously, armed and dangerous, this woman was ready to party and ready to dance. By the sexy look she had on her face that was filled with the obvious sexual interest she had in him, she was ready to rock and roll. It wasn't hard to imagine Rachel's legs widely parted, her feet in the air, and her screaming her orgasm to her Lord, God Almighty. Her way to dig her claws deep within him, to claim him, and to call him her own, she was ready to fuck him as if she was a beetle on her back and he was the Devil.

'Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Hallelujah! Amen,' she thought while hoping Jonathan would give her what she needed, multiple orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. "Fuck me harder, Jonathan. Fuck me faster," she imagined saying.

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"You have such a lovely house," she said instead of saying what she was thinking. "It's huge. If you don't mind me asking, hint, hint, how many bedrooms do you have?"

As if he never pondered the answer to her question, he paused to remember.

"Nine, I think, and twelve bathrooms, even though I sleep in the same bedroom and use only one bathroom," he said with a laugh.

A different time back then, when this home was constructed, families were much larger. More than one-hundred years ago, before the availability of the birth control pill, it was typical for a family have five children and more, as it was for a family to have only two children today. She was obviously impressed with such an immense and detailed house.

"How many rooms are in the house?"

Stumped again, he looked at her with confusion. Again, as if he never pondered the answer to her question, he counted off rooms with his fingers.

"Twenty, I think, not counting the servants' quarters on the top floor and not counting the full basement, the sunroom, the garden, the pool house, the garage, and the guest house, of course. Actually, I'm not sure just how many rooms are in this house. I really don't know," he said with a laugh reminiscent of F. Scott Fitzgerald's character, Gatsby, in The Great Gatsby. He only needed to call her 'Sport,' to complete the image of him living more than one-hundred years ago. "Perhaps we can explore them together and you can keep a running count as we go."

If she lived in such a grand house, she'd want to experience having sex in every bedroom and in every room. She imagined having sex with him in every bedroom and in every bathroom of the house every day. Then, starting all over again, it would take them three weeks to complete the cycle. If they added them having sex in the other rooms too, it would take them more than a month to have sex throughout the entire house.

'Wow,' she thought while ready to give it a try.

Nonetheless such a beautiful house with original woodwork, hardwood floors, stained glass windows, beamed ceilings, fireplaces, built-ins, pocket doors, and antique light fixtures, if she lived here, she'd do every room a different color. Every room would have its own theme. Replacing the dark, brocaded, heavy draperies with ivory, lace curtains, she'd certainly brighten up the place with her talent for fashion, interior design, and her sense of fun. Already thinking ahead, if this date progressed as she hoped it would, she'd make him a good wife.

'I know pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride,' she imagined her priest saying.

She looked at him as if he was already doomed to be her husband and she was so chosen by their computers matching them to be his lawfully wedded wife.

"I've never been in a house this big and this grand," she said staring up at the high ceiling.

He smiled at her appreciation of his home.

"I felt the same way the first time I saw the interior of this house," he said looking around the house as she just had. "Saving me the expense of heating it and paying someone to clean it, I'd close off most of the house but it's a great house for entertaining," he said. "I work in the field of medicine and I enjoy entertaining, doctors, nurses, medical directors, administrators, and pharmaceutical representatives."

He led the way through a twenty-foot-high reception hall with an antique, crystal chandelier. With original period tables of glass, slate, and mahogany, and paintings decorating the walls, keeping time of the period, the antique grandfather clock stood sentry in the corner by the front door. The curved, oak, heavily detailed staircase, with the steps awashed in oriental carpeting, dating back to the 1890 period of the construction of the Victorian house, all looked original. Obviously, whoever had this house built had money and whoever lived in this house took great pride in living in it and caring for it. In the way of a great, old lady, the house exuded charm and character not found in the newly constructed, cookie cutter homes of today.

"Is this a family home?"

He smiled.

"Heavens no. I bought it at auction. Having lived here all of her life, the woman who owned the house inherited it from her father. A two-year process, her grandfather was the one who began building it in 1888 and completed it in 1890. She died alone with no family," he said.

Obviously a part unimportant to him, he left out the part that he befriended the old woman, drugged her, and murdered her. Obviously, he knew that the house would eventually be sold at auction. With so very many old mansions being abandoned, he surmised that few residents could afford the rehabilitation, the upkeep, the heat, the insurance, and the taxes of such a fine, old home.

Even though the house needed a lot of work to restore it to the original condition, he bought the house at a bargain basement price that was well below market value. Happy with his purchase, as if he was the phantom behind his own, little opera, better than any modern day bachelor pad, his house was a chick magnet. The women who loved his house were ready to love him for the chance to live here with him.

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"Shall we go in the parlor?" He escorted her to the parlor. "What can I get you to drink? I have a full bar."

She sat on the sofa and put a quick hand to the slit of her skirt to deny him a flash of her panties.

"Wine. White wine, if you have some already opened," she said.

He poured a glass of white wine from an opened bottle that was already being chilled on ice.

"Knowing that white wine was your drink of choice from our numerous correspondences, I already had some chilled on ice. With us having written so very much and having talked extensively on the phone for hours, I feel as if I know you already," he said chuckling while handing her glass of wine.

Then, giving her a sexually interested smile, he continued smiling at her while watching her nervously sip her wine. Just as she was so delicate, naïve, and nervous. Looking around the room as if she was transported back in time, she couldn't believe she was here.

She wondered how and when he'd make her move to kiss her. If he kissed her, she'd definitely return his kiss. If he kissed her, she'd allow him to touch her, feel her, and fondle her. If he touched her, felt, her, and fondled her, she'd suck his cock. Before he ejaculated his cum in her mouth, saving that for last, she'd fuck him. In the way that he'd make her his with his good looks, his successful career, his money, and this house, she'd make him hers by giving him the best sex he ever had in his life.

"May I take you on a tour of my house?"

She put down her wine to follow him upstairs.

'This is it,' she thought. 'Not wasting any time, obviously he wants to get me upstairs. Obviously, he wants to have sex with me.'

If only he knew, she couldn't wait for him to kiss her. If only he knew, she couldn't wait for him to feel her through her clothes. If only he knew, she couldn't wait for him to strip her naked. She couldn't wait to show him her beautiful body, a sexy, shapely image that rivaled his beautiful house. She couldn't wait to suck him. She couldn't wait for him to fuck her. She couldn't wait to have sex, glorious sex with the man of her dreams and the man who may be her future husband.

"I'd like that," she said acting as interested in seeing the rest of the house as she acting nonchalant in him taking her upstairs for hopefully sex, glorious sex.

He looked from the wine to look at her.

"Take your wine with you," he said. "The tour may take a while. There's much to see and much to do," he said giving her a sexy smile that promised her all that she had imagined.

She picked up her wine from the table and followed him up the winding stairs. Filled with the sexual anticipation of having sex with Jonathan, she nervously drank her wine as she walked and stopped on the stairs along the way to admire the original, period paintings. Showing him that she wasn't all about sex, that she knew a little something about art, and had an appreciation for the great painters of the period, they discussed each painting. Having nearly finished her wine and odd that he didn't offer her another glass in hopes of getting her a little tipsy, by the time she reached his bedroom, she was unable to walk any further.

"What's happening to me? Suddenly, I'm dizzy. Suddenly, I can't feel or move my legs," she said looking at him with horror. She looked from her wine to look at him. "Did you drug me?" She looked at him with as much hurt as she looked at him disappointment, sadness, horror, and anger.

He gave her a fatherly smile.

"With what I'm about to do to your naked body, I drugged you for your own good and for your own protection. Not wanting you to make a scene and scream, I didn't want to hurt you to hurt yourself when you struggled," he said in a calming tone of a psychiatrist talking to his patient.