Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Perverts were ugly.  At least, they were supposed to be.  Based on her
limited experience with pedophiles, she found they were either fat men with
shiny heads, jiggly jowls, and sweaty palms or thin emasculated fellows
with weak chins and beady eyes.  So the fact that Mr.  McDanter was an
exceedingly handsome man felt like a betrayal of an unspoken agreement she
had with the universe.

   For the first time in her young life Alice couldn't find the words to
articulate the faint feeling of being double crossed that hovered at the
edge of her consciousness.  She had become particularly adept at dealing
with weirdos, having had the misfortune of landed on the radar of quite a
few.  They all had a particular air of creepiness about them that Mr. 
McDanter lacked.  If one were to judge solely from appearances, one would
think Lucifer McDanter to be a saintly man who helped old ladies cross the
street, fed the homeless and took Communion every Sunday.  Even with his
peculiar first name - really, who names a child Lucifer with its religious
connotations - nothing in his countenance gave any indication that he raped
girls.

   Alice lay on her back, her short legs clasped tightly around his slim
hips, the adage about not judging a book by its cover bouncing gently
around her foggy mind.  She could feel his buttocks clenching and relaxing
under her heels in a steady slightly hypnotic rhythm that lulled her into
frequently forgetting that he was raping her.  She found these episodic
lapses in awareness disquieting.  He was thrusting his penis into her
never-before-used vagina.  One would think that would serve as a constant
reminder that he didn't have permission to be so intimate with her.

   Instead, she found herself continuously drifting off to a hazy place
where her only concern was reveling in the intense sensations emanating
from between her legs.  It was as if the tip of his cock was repeatedly
pushing a button inside of her that sent roiling waves of anxious pleasure
from her vagina to other parts of her body, making her toes curl, the
nipples of her small breasts harden, and produced whimpers of varying
degrees of loudness from her.

   Occasionally, the spell would break.  She would remember how he had
manipulated her into his house, tricked her into taking her clothes off,
and ignored her when she told him to stop touching her.  She would push
against his hard, leanly muscled chest but then he would kiss her or lick
her breasts or stroke her clitoris and she would find herself drifting off
into the haze again.

   He bent to nibble her neck, his harsh breathing pulling her out of her
sex-induced stupor.  She struggled to return to her senses.  How long had
he been on top of her, plowing her vagina as though it were some fertile
ground he needed to seed?  It felt like a long time.  Were her parents
looking for her?  Probably not.  Most likely her mother was plopped in
front of the television watching daytime soaps and shoveling hand fulls of
candy into her mouth while her father nursed his own addiction at the local
bar.  They probably wouldn't notice she had been gone until she limped home
in the morning.

   Her throbbing vagina snapped Alice out of her morose thoughts.  An
orgasm.  It was her second one...or maybe her third.  She, who had an
elephant's memory, couldn't remember how many times her rapist had
stimulated her to orgasm.  It felt so strange to have him inside of her as
she climaxed.  Her vagina convulsed deeply but, being wrapped so tight
around the thick delving shaft of his cock, it struggled to expel the pent
up sensations of her orgasm.

   The tight wet kisses of her vagina seemed to inspire him to pursue his
own orgasm.  He grasped her legs, which had instinctively tightened around
his hips, and forced them open to an extreme angle.  Alice's deep brown
eyes were drawn to the apex of her thighs where she was treated to the
obscene sight of his cock plunging earnestly into her over and over and
over again.

   She winced in sudden discomfort, but before she could acknowledge the
pain he pulled out suddenly.  She felt a peculiar mixture of relief and
bereavement.  His cock dangled ominously over her exposed genitals for a
brief quiet moment.  Then he groaned as the muscle stiffly vomited white
streams of goop onto the light down of apple-red pubic hair.

   He stroked his cock lightly as it continued to empty its contents.  As
quickly as they had started the streams stopped and he smeared his cum over
her lips with the tip of his penis.  Futilely, she pushed against him as
she felt him pushing his cock inside again.

   "Stop," she said, wincing at the softness of her cry.  "I could get
pregnant."

   "You won't get pregnant," he said confidently.  He lied on top of her,
his large heavy body pressing her into the soft mattress.

   "You're too heavy," she said but her body betrayed her words.  Her legs
settled themselves over his thighs and her hands moved to clasp his sides.
Weren't men supposed to soften after orgasm?  Amazingly he was still hard.
Alice tried not reciprocate as he ground his pelvis against hers.

   She felt him smile against her neck - really, what was it about her neck
that fascinate him so?  - and a moment later he propped himself up on his
forearms.  He smiled down at her and she was struck anew by his
handsomeness.  This was wrong.  He was supposed to be ugly, creepy, slimy
and other synonyms for disgusting.  He was supposed to leer and drool, not
stare at her with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

   Then it occurred to her that maybe she was thinking of him in the wrong
way.  Maybe he wasn't a pervert at all but a serial killer with perverted
tastes.  Alice rifled through the catalogue of information in her brain,
the myriad books, articles, and documentaries she had consumed on
murderers. Many serial killers were handsome and charming.  That was how
they lured their victims to their deaths.  He had just satisfied one base
urge.  Was he smiling at her like that because he had figured out how he
was going to satisfy his urge to kill?

   She had to get out of there.

   "I'm not going to hurt you," he said unexpectedly.

   "That's what the serial killer always says in those Lifetime movies,"
she said.

   He laughed softly making her inside quiver, with fear or excitement she
wasn -(TM)t certain.  "You watch too much television."

   "You just raped me," she said.  "I'm entitled to be skeptical about your
claim that you won't hurt me."

   "I did not rape you," he said.  "I merely rushed the inevitable a bit.
We were going to fuck.  It was just a matter of when."

   "When I said 'no', you should have taken that to mean 'not right now'."

   "Well, according to your three orgasms, you thoroughly enjoyed
yourself."

   She felt her face grow hot.  "You may not have hurt me physically but
you scarred me mentally and emotionally."

   "You're a strong girl Alice.  You'll get over it."

   Mr.  McDanter's casual, confident assertion stunned her into silence and
he took the opportunity to kiss her.  She wanted to bite his tongue,
scratch his chest, anything to get him off of her but, annoyingly, her body
betrayed her.  Like a well-trained sheep, she kissed him back the way he
had taught her.

   He moved against her, his erection making itself known.  Still?  Either
he had no refractory period or he was very, very horny.  Gathering what
little sense she had left, she pushed against him.  Turning away from his
kiss she said, "I have to get home.  My parents will be worried."

   "I highly doubt that," he said, "but you are right.  It is time for you
to go home."

   He gave a long sigh and then, after carefully extricating himself,
rolled onto his side.  "The bathroom is over there," he said pointing to a
door she thought was a closet.

   Gingerly, for she was starting to feel sore, she climbed off the bed. 
Picking her clothes from the floor, she hurried to the bathroom.  So many
emotions were flowing through her that she didn't know what to feel.  She
decided to shove them away into a box to deal with later.

   After peeing, she washed up in the sink, taking special care to clean
all the sperm from her pubic area.  The last thing she wanted was to get
knocked up by some stray swimmer.  Since she was underage, her parents
would have to be notified if she tried to get an abortion and she didn't
want to have to explain how she had gotten pregnant in the first place.

   She gave a sharp start and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. 
Wait a minute.  Why wouldn't she tell her parents how she got pregnant? 
Despite his arrogant assertions, Mr.  McDanter just raped her.  She should
be calling the police and having him arrested not cleaning the evidence and
looking for ways to get a backstreet abortion.  What was wrong with her? 
Alice shook her head and tried to think the right thoughts.  Maybe he
drugged her.  She knew those cookies tasted a little too good.

   She thought of ways to sneak the washcloth out of his house so she could
take it to the police.  When she left the bathroom, however, Alice found
her scheming was all for naught.  Save for a few wrinkles, the bed was
empty.  Cautiously, she crept out of the room and down the hallway
anxiously expecting him to burst through one of the doors with a machete.
There was no sign of him.

   Maybe he was in the backyard digging a grave for her.  At that thought,
Alice quickly and somewhat inelegantly made her way down the stairs. 
Scooping up her backpack where she had left it on the last step, she bolted
for the front door.  She had her hand on the knob ready to escape but
something made her turn around.

   The front door opened into a hallway that ended at the kitchen.  There,
standing at a counter with his back to her, was Mr.  McDanter wearing only
a black pair of pants.  He was sorting through some mail as though it were
the most normal thing to do after raping someone.  He didn't seem at all
concerned that she would run outside screaming about what he had done.

   That irritated her.  Against her better judgment, she stalked into the
kitchen.  He tossed the mail onto the counter and turned to look at her. 
They stared at each other for a moment - she flushed and annoyed; he coolly
amused.

   "Are you leaving now?" he asked.

   "Aren't you afraid I'm going to tell my parents?" she asked.

   His half-smile told her that he wasn -(TM)t, in fact, concerned about
suffering any repercussions.  The top of her head barely reached his
shoulders, so he had to bend over to whisper in her ear.

   "What makes you think your parents don't already know?"

   For the second time she was shocked into silence and he took the
opportunity to press his lips lightly against her slightly open ones.  "I
hope you like the surprise waiting for you at home," he said,
straightening. "Come back Thursday and tell me all about it."

   Unbidden, her tongue ran across her lower lip hoping to taste him there.
Realizing what she was doing, she let out an annoyed huff.  She wanted to
say something to wipe that smug smile off his face, but while she was
something of a word nerd she wasn't particularly skilled at pairing them
into cutting insults.

   Instead, she settled for giving him the dirtiest look she could muster
and pushing him away when he tried to kiss the expression from her face. 
Gathering up what was left of her shredded dignity, she stalked out of his
house, slamming the door on his laughter.

   Miraculously, when Alice got home, she found her mother anxiously
awaiting her arrival.

   "Where have you been?" her mother exclaimed.  She was practically
bouncing on the well-worn couch.  It creaked its displeasure at having to
accommodate her excess weight.

   "I was at Mr.  McDanter's house.  Susan, he-" she started, but her
mother cut her off.

   "We won the lottery!"

   Alice stared at her mother blankly.  "What?"

   "We won the lottery!  Come see!  Come see!"

   Dutifully, Alice set her book bag on the floor and grasped the ticket
her mother waved frantically.  The older woman turned to a laptop sitting
next to her where the state lottery website displayed six numbers that
perfectly matched the ones on the ticket in her hand.  "How...how much did
you win?"

   "Six million, six hundred and sixty thousand dollars!  Finally something
good has happened to our family.  We're rich honey, we're rich!"

   Alice didn't know what to say.  She was saved from having to respond to
her mother's expectant expression by her father bursting through the front
door.  "Let me see.  Let me see the ticket!" He exclaimed, not bothering to
set down his briefcase.  He snatched the ticket from her hand and proceeded
to verify what his wife told him over the phone.

   Her parents whooped and hollered at their good fortune, but Alice was
having a difficult time joining in.  An odd feeling came over her and she
turned her head to see Mr.  McDanter standing by his car.  A white shirt
and long black coat had joined the black pants.  He was looking at their
house, but she had the eery feeling he was looking directly at her.

   A moment later, her father caught her up in a bear hug.  By the time she
was able to extricate herself, Mr.  McDanter was gone having sped off
somewhere in the beautiful luxury car that she had stopped to admire
earlier that day.