Chapter 1
The night was cold and damp, and not even the heavy woolen overcoat seemed capable of keeping out the icy chill. Rona felt the winter severity slice through the coat as if it were a razor made of ice. Stalactites of cold knifed into her again and again, making her shiver continually. Being independent no longer seemed important. Right now, she would have traded her independence for a warm bed.
Her youthful life story had been the exact reverse of most young girls. She was a big city girl who had hated living in a metropolis, and since she had no parents, her older brother, her only guardian, had been ultra-strict in bringing her up. She hadn't been able to stand him, and so she'd packed up and walked out. She was a mere sixteen, though she looked much more mature with her huge breasts and sorrowful eyes. But her brother had warned her, if she walked out he wouldn't go chasing after her, nor would he bother calling the police to find her. If she was wanton enough to leave his good house, He had no use for her as a sister.
So Rona Versi, with a single suitcase and four hundred dollars she had saved, had left the city and had come to the small suburb where she'd gotten a room for forty dollars a week at a boarding house. There were no meals served at the boarding house, but Rona had gotten a job as a waitress at a diner on the other side of the village, and so had two meals a day in addition to earning eighty-five dollars a week-plus tips.
Usually she took the late bus across the village from the diner to her boarding house, but she'd had to work a little later that particular night, and the bus was no longer running. It was a good three mile walk, but Rona knew her legs were the only things that would take her to her room, and so she'd put on her coat and started walking.
And that was when the whole crazy thing started.
While walking along Main Street, Rona had been stopped by a police cruiser. The officers, both of whom ate at the diner from time to time, seemed to know her, yet they behaved as if she were a perfect stranger. They were arresting her, and the charge, strange as it sounded, was street-walking . . . hustling . . . prostitution. That anyone should be arrested in the Village of Sumner for prostitution was, in itself, ludicrous. The "working girls" operated almost openly, though discreetly, and paid off the local police. Rona even knew a few of the girls, and they confided to her that they'd given various officers of the law more than one "free ride" in addition to paying them off. They had also teased her, telling her she would never make a good hooker. She had too innocent a face, and a man would feel guilty defiling the body attached to such a pure face, even if a body as voluptuous as Rona's.
Yet here she was, being arrested, and there was no way she could understand why. She hadn't been standing still. She hadn't even asked anyone for directions, much less made any kind of offer. Why then, had the police arrested her?
The police station was warmer than the subfreezing temperature outside, but the atmosphere seemed as cold. The desk sergeant treated her with the indifference she assumed he reserved for all people brought in, but it was a chilly indifference and she didn't like it.
They were terrifying her, talking among themselves about booking her, putting her in a cell, keeping her there until the magistrate appeared in court, Monday morning, and here it was Saturday evening. She was a good, clean, hard working girl, and now, all of a sudden, two crazy policemen, both of whom had seen her dozens of times at the diner, suddenly decided to haul her in on a charge of prostitution while the real prostitutes were still out there plying their trade.
"Just a minute, sergeant," a voice suddenly broke through all the others.
Rona looked up and saw him. He was almost six feet tall, with jet black hair combed in the new mod style-covering the tops of his ears though almost short in back. His dark blue overcoat was open, and she could see his slender, solid body, clad in a black suit.
He had large brown eyes, a medium, straight Roman nose, thin lips, and a firm, solid chin and jawline. His voice was crisp and rang with authority, though he couldn't have been more than twenty-six or twenty-seven, himself.
He walked straight up to the desk and said: "What are the charges against this girl?"
"Soliciting," the sergeant replied. "She was picked up on Main Street by Paul and Tom. They oughtta know if a chick's on the make or not."'
"Those two don't know their asses from their elbows," the dark man snapped. "Besides, look at her. It's plain your men have made a mistake. She's much too young to be in the trade."
"They start young nowadays, Mr. Manset. Don't let that innocent face fool you. She's probably past twenty-five."
"Did your men actually see her accost anyone?"
"Well, no, but.. . "
"But nothing. I want her released. Mrs. Sumner will assume full responsibility."
"Can't do that sir, unless you're willin' to see to it Mrs. Sumner assumes the total obligation. I mean, according to the ID we found in her billfold, she lives in a boarding house. Mrs. Sumner can't very well look after her if she goes on livin' there."
"What's your name?" the man called Manset asked Rona.
"R-Rona," she replied, trembling.
"Rona, if I see to it you're released from here, would you be willing to come with me to Mrs. Sumner's house? You don't have to, you know. You're under no obligation."
"Please," Rona told him, almost whispering. "I'll do almost anything to get out of here."
"Fine. I'll have the sergeant release you in Mrs. Sumner's custody. Well go to your room, pick up your clothing, and I'll bring you to Mrs. Sumner's home," he told her. "If the sergeant has any questions I'm certain he can find you there."
Things were moving too quickly for Rona. She couldn't understand what was happening. Why should the widow of the town patriarch be willing to assume any responsibility for her? And if the woman ever learned Rona was a mere sixteen, might she not send the girl to reform school? She was not supposed to be working. That, by itself, was against the law.
Twenty minutes later, Rona, in the passenger seat of the large Buick, was riding through the gates leading to the Sumner Mansion, a regal-looking structure in the northeast section of the village.
"Why?" she asked Manset, who was driving. "Why should Mrs. Sumner do this?"
"She's the proverbial good Samaritan," Manset explained. "She insists I stop in at the police station once a night and see if any deserving young girl is in any kind of trouble. She was a young girl who, before she was twenty, had also been helped. She wants to share her good fortune with other young girls."
"Only girls?" Rona asked.
'Tor the present," Manset nodded. "She doesn't believe in bringing more than one gender into her home at a time. All kinds of trouble could erupt. Now, you do exactly as you're told, and by the time you leave here, you may very well find yourself quite well off."
"You make it sound as if I'm going to stay here for a long time," Rona said.
"Just how long is up to you," Bob Manset smiled. "But the longer you stay, the better it will be for you."
"It still doesn't really make sense," Rona shrugged, getting out of the car once it had stopped.
"It doesn't have to," Manset told her, taking out a key and unlocking the front door.
"Do you live here, too?" Rona asked.
"Oh yes," Manset nodded. "Mrs. Sumner is very insistent on that. She's been my patroness for quite a few years. She saw me through law school at a time when she would allow no ladies into the house, and I've become her personal attorney. She trusts me completely."
"How many other girls has she helped?" Rona asked, following Manset into a dark, elegant, Victorian-styled living room. They walked through, entered a hallway, then climbed a flight of stairs.
At the top of the stairs. Manset walked the length of the hallway carrying Rona's single suitcase containing her belongings. He ushered her into a warmly furnished room with a large, old-fashioned four poster bed against the right wall.
"Mrs. Sumner has helped three other girls in the past eight years since her husband died. She helped me while the Senator was still living. Now you wait here while I go tell Mrs. Sumner you're here. You can wash up if you wish. You have a private bathroom over there, on the left."
Manset left Rona and she sat on the comfortable bed, both curious and overwhelmed. Why should such a thing happen to her? It made no sense. There was every possibility Mrs. Sumner might very well throw her out of the house.
Taking off her wool coat, Rona put it on the bed. She stared at her reflection in the dresser mirror and decided her hair could do with a bit of combing. Whenever it fluffed out wildly, the way it was at that moment, it made her look a bit mousy.
While Rona was combing her hair, Bob Man-set was walking downstairs. He bypassed the living room and entered a small room just beyond.
Inside the den, Joan Sumner sat in an old Victorian wing chair. She was staring into the fire burning in an ornate fireplace. Her short brown hair, had touches of gray, but her hairdresser had turned the gray to silver. Her face was first becoming lined. She was thin, but with a full figure where it counted. And despite her fifty-three years, her body was as taut as that of any teenager.
She looked up as Manset entered. He stared back at her and nodded. "She's here. The police setup worked perfectly. I think you'll find her properly grateful."
"But will I find her receptive?" Joan Sumner wondered.
"I don't think she'll have much to argue about," Manset answered. "It's either what you want, or back to the police."
"Is she really as innocent-looking as those policemen claimed?"
'Tom and Paul know better than to try and foist a ringer on you. Turn on the TV monitor and see for yourself."
"I'm anxious to, and yet, I'm so afraid of disappointment. It's been a long while since I've found a truly innocent girl."
"She's as innocent as she is innocent-looking," Manset assured her. "As innocent as she will be knowledgeable when she leaves here."
"Substitute the word corrupted for knowledgeable," Joan Sumner sighed. "I'm sorry, Robert. I can't help myself. I controlled myself all those years my husband was alive, but once he died, leaving the control of the entire village in my hands, I realized I could cater to any whim, and I've always had this thing about tainting the pure. I love innocent people, male or female."
"I know," Manset nodded, sighing. "No one knows better than I."
"Don't pretend to be so upright and righteous," she snapped, her dark eyes burning into him. "You've surpassed me."
"I admit to devirginizing all those innocent females," Manset nodded. "But only after all they had left was their virginity. You took their real innocence from them. I only administered the coup-de-grace, for which most were actually grateful."
"Why, Robert?" Joan Sumner asked angrily. "Why should they be grateful? Were their experiences with me so harrowing?"
"Not at all," Manset assured her. "But the women wanted to be reassured that they were women and not the mere playthings of a bull dyke."
"And so you reassured them with that horse-sized cock of yours."
"In all the years you used it, you never complained," Manset pointed out. "And you did admit it wasn't exclusively yours. You agreed, as long as I helped you do whatever you wished to them, once you were through with them I could do as I pleased with them"
"I thought you would rape them, and perhaps kill them afterward, getting rid of all the so-called witnesses against us. But no, you not only taught them not to be afraid any longer, you made them yearn for that long, fat prick of yours, so much so, you blackmailed them into silence by promising to withhold your thing from them should they ever tell anyone what happened here. With the three girls you're satisfying now, I'm surprised you have time for any new ones. I'm even more surprised at how you manage to keep me content, in addition."
"You have an unusually strong sex drive," Manset admitted. "In the beginning, I was really afraid I'd never be able to keep up with you, much less the others. As for blackmailing them into silence, it's much neater than getting involved in anything as messy as killing. Besides, I have a tender conscience where human life is concerned. I think everyone born has a right to live his or her life out to its natural conclusion. Now, before we start arguing the semantics of good and bad, take a look at our latest prize. I think you'll agree, she's the best-looking one I've ever brought you."
Together, Manset and Joan walked to a corner of the room and stood in front of a bookcase. Joan reached out and slid a false front aside. Behind it was a television screen. Joan pressed a button revealing a long, wide-angle glimpse of the room where Manset had taken Rona. She was nowhere in sight, but a light corning from beneath the closed bathroom door let them know where she was.
Joan turned a switch, and the picture on the screen changed from the bedroom to the bathroom. Rona was naked and lying in a tub of hot water. But even with the water almost hiding the girl's body, it was obvious she was beautifully constructed. Her large, pink-nippled breasts floated on top of the water, their dark pink aureoles large, inviting sunsets of color. The rest of the girl's skin was milk-white. She had a narrow waist, medium hips, and a very thick, dark bush of short, curly hair at the apex between her long, slim thighs. If the girl had a flaw anywhere, it was her calves. They were on the skinny side, and though the girl was relaxing in the tub, her eyes were open, as if she were straining to hear every little sound.
"She does have an innocent face," Joan agreed. "Those large eyes and that small, upturned nose, and those full, red lips seem to be begging to learn. And I think now is as good a time as any, don't you, Robert? Let's visit her, right now."