Chapter 4
It had been the strangest night of Amanda's young life. She ought to have detested it, but she didn't. No, she never did come not really. Ruth hadn't gone down on her, at all. She had made Ruth climax eight times in all, the last seven with her mouth pasted to Ruth's vagina. Doing it, had, for some reason, made her feel a perverse sense of satisfaction, though she knew she would never willingly do such a thing again.
The one thing that did happen to Amanda was a continuing flow of vaginal oil coming from within each time she lay down. She had to sleep with a sanitary napkin in order to keep herself from dripping all over the bed she slept in. This was the bed at home, home being a small town in rural Pennsylvania. She lived in an apartment with her mother, a woman as tiny as herself, and whom she resembled a great deal. Her mother was divorced now, but from time to time she ran to the hospital when Amanda's father "fell off the wagon" and was put in the alcoholics ward.
But Amanda soon realized she didn't want to go on living with her mother. She wanted privacy, total privacy, and it soon became evident to her that her need for privacy was based on the hope of being with a man and finding out if it was any better than being with Ruth. She hoped so. Otherwise, she would discover that she was not homosexual, but not heterosexual. That would leave neuter, and somehow Amanda didn't feel she was a neuter.
In the middle of July, Amanda told her mother of her desire to have her own apartment, and her mother acquiesced. After all, Amanda was twenty-two years old and perfectly capable of making her own decision. Besides, Amanda's mother was starting to date other men and wanted privacy of her own. Un-like Amanda, her mother was fully knowledgeable where sex was concerned, and she enjoyed a small fling now and again.
So Amanda got her own apartment, but as soon as she was moved in, she realized she was still reluctant to either initiate anything between herself and some male, or even appear eager should some male approach her.
Amanda was signed up to be a teacher at the local elementary school in the fall. But it was mid-summer, and having saved money from the odd jobs she had done while in school, she had enough to carry her through until September, if she was somewhat frugal. So she took to spending her days on the beach. Because she was so fair-skinned, she brought a large beach umbrella, so that the sun never played on her for any length of time. As a result, she not only avoided sunburn, but managed to keep her skin as white as ever while sitting around all day in a skimpy bikini. It was the blue bikini which made all the male beachgoers aware of the fact that for such a tiny girl she was exceedingly well-endowed.
It also brought her to the attention of Ambrose Wallace. Ambrose Wallace was a well-to-do ne'er-do-well. He was what once would have been described as a man-about-town, which meant a man with enough money so that he didn't have to do anything to make a living. Ambrose Wallace fitted into that category perfectly.
When he was twenty-one, Ambrose Wallace inherited a fortune from his grandfather. The man, for some reason, had hated Ambrose's father his own son and Ambrose assumed it was because his father had married his mother, someone socially unacceptable to the oldest Wallace.
Ambrose himself had never gotten along too well with his parents. His father was a hard worker and wanted Ambrose to be the same. When the boy had refused, the father had tossed him out of the house and Ambrose had run to grandpa who had taken him in. It had tickled the old man to see his grandson becoming a rakehell. He had died when Ambrose had been seventeen, and a trust fund had seen to Ambrose's comfort until the youth had come of age. Then the entire fortune had been put at Ambrose's disposal.
Oddly enough, Ambrose was not quite as dense as his father had believed, and as a result, the youth had managed to make some good investments and each year increased the size of the fortune left him. He moved to Pennsylvania, to a coastal city, and there, not too far from the beach, built his own private mansion. For though Ambrose was intelligent, he was still a rakehell. There had been times when he had thrown wild orgies, enjoying countless women at once. But he finally tired of all that, especially since the men who came to his parties did so merely because they liked what he had to offer, and not because they liked him. The women came hoping for expensive presents, and in the beginning he hadn't disappointed them. But it finally dawned on Ambrose that no one liked him for himself. So he decided it would be more fun to enjoy the women one by one, holding out some kind of expensive "carrot" to entice them to his mansion, and there, he would enjoy abusing them sexually until he tired of them. Then he would offer them enough money to make sure they'd keep their mouths shut, and turn them loose. He was smart enough to make certain the money didn't come to them all at once. Rather he sent them so much a month for a certain period of time, and by the end of that time, they had been disassociated from him long enough so that they would have no legal leg to stand on if they tried taking him to court, claiming abuse.
Ambrose was now thirty-four years old. He wasn't too tall, about five-feet-seven-inches, with sandy brown hair, a pleasant-enough face, and a firm body. He'd found it necessary to train himself in a martial arts school to protect himself from the women when they became overly angry at the way he abused them. Some of them became extremely violent, attacking him with fireplace pokers and the like. He enjoyed the violence, because it gave him an opportunity to handle the women with a certain amount of vehemence. When a woman didn't struggle, he found it no fun. Not that it deterred him from having his way. But when they didn't fight him off, he didn't try to hurt them, either.
More than one woman came back, begging for more. Certain they were merely after more money, Ambrose had pointedly ignored them, always looking for a fresh woman. What he was really looking for was a woman, just one, who would love him for himself, and with whom he'd be able to share his life. But those women whom he found possibly fitting into that category were never intrigued enough by him to visit his mansion in the first place.
Then he saw Amanda.
She was lying on the beach, beneath her umbrella, as always, and Ambrose, who almost never awoke before ten in the morning, had been up early that day to see someone about a real estate investment. Back home now, he took out his telescope, the one he had ostensibly purchased to do some star-gazing, and he let it wander along the beach, looking at the sexy bodies of the various women, all of them with boy friends. All but one! All but the little carrot-topped girl in the blue bikini with the nice breasts and the curvy body. She was alone and stayed alone.
Though he let his telescope move back and forth, Ambrose continually returned it to where Amanda lay sprawled in the shade of the beach umbrella. She had brought some books with her, and she read them with her back propped against the umbrella pole. She was an avid reader, and from what Ambrose was able to determine, because his telescope was high-powered, she read classics, the great philosophers, and occasionally, corny romantic fiction.
For almost a week Ambrose got up early and watched through his telescope, noting Amanda came every morning, stayed for six hours, then left. Men often stopped to talk to her, but from the way she shook her head, it was obvious she was declining one invitation after the other. Odd! Here was an intelligent, beautiful female, and in Ambrose's eyes Amanda looked more beautiful every day. She was obviously a romantic, and yet wanted nothing to do with men who continually stopped by and tried dating her. Was it possible she had a boyfriend out of town and she was waiting for him to return?
Ambrose decided to do a little research, and he called an investigation agency he used for various and sundry reasons, and when they sent a man over, he pointed to Amanda through his telescope and said, "Her! Find out what you can, as quickly as you can."
Two days, and five hundred dollars, later, Ambrose knew that Amanda's last name was Rose. It amused him. Amanda Rose Ambrose, almost twin-sounds. If he were superstitious, he might think there was some kind of omen in that. But no, he was not superstitious. He was practical.
Amanda Rose had no boyfriends. She had just finished graduate school, she was going to become a teacher in the fall. No, she had no record of former boyfriends either. From her last roommate it was learned Amanda Rose was in all probability still a virgin, though the roommate was able to reliably report that Amanda had no hymen since she used tampons. She was shy and stayed to herself.
Ambrose smiled to himself. A virgin? Was it possible in this day and age that a twenty-two-year-old virgin still existed? Hmmm? Well now, this would really be something. Ambrose had never known a virgin, and the idea of finding a female totally ignorant when it came to sex was absolutely delightful.
There were so many different ways to corrupt her. Why, she might be of interest for as much as a month, perhaps six weeks. He had known only one girl who had interested him for two months. She had been an oriental orphan who had worked in a Vietnamese whorehouse from the time she was nine. When Ambrose had met her, she was nineteen, had been in the states for ten years, and had been used by various businessmen to help further certain deals. But at nineteen she was too old for certain depraved businessmen who liked playing with young girls, and so she had been given a few thousand dollars and turned loose. Ambrose had met her a few weeks later, and he had spirited her away to his mansion where he had practiced all kinds of sexual art forms on her, only to discover she had known more than he. So he had kept her with him for two months. He might have kept her longer, but a business acquaintance of his met her and flipped over her, and so Ambrose and "given" her to him in exchange for what would eventually be a deal that would net Ambrose close to a million dollars. The girl, in the meanwhile, was being treated like a princess, and would someday in the future retire with a fortune of her own.
Ah, but here was the perfect kind of amusement to replace the oriental girl. A virgin! Yes indeed!