Chapter One
For Stephen there were no words to describe his immediate attraction and immense desire for Nicolette. She had been only fifteen at the time, and her communication toward him that day had been completely nonverbal. To be more specific, Nicolette had stuck her tongue out at him and followed up with a two middle finger salute. Then, she had tossed her long dark mane of silky hair and flounced away, a cylinder of pink cotton candy in hand. In Nicolette's defense, Stephen knew that he had been gawking lustfully at her for over an hour.
But he couldn't help himself! His eyes had witnessed the impossible – seeing the great regret of his life again at the time he had initially met her! The little girl, Nicolette, was his ex-girlfriend's daughter, and the spitting image of his ex-girlfriend as a teenager. And Stephen never really stopped loving his ex-girlfriend, even after she dumped him and married someone else. Perhaps it was the pain of not having closure. Perhaps it was because his ex had those irritating moral values and wouldn't consummate their relationship that caused Stephen's lust for Nicolette. He never married, never had children of his own, and was unable to tear his eyes away from the little girl. He watched her figure disappearing and reappearing as she walked tree lined streets of East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania.
A wealthy billionaire businessman with an abundance of beautiful women of every flavor at his discretion, it was so boring. He had stayed too long living the world of men's fantasies and everything had turned mundane. He was spending a lot of time daydreaming recently, unable to concentrate at work, recollecting all the events that led up to his current predicament. The years flew by like minutes in his memory, names and places all blurring together with no real emotional connection attached to any of the experiences. By American standards, he was the consummate image of the successful bachelor, but his soul was empty. He wished that he could do it all differently and marry Nicolette's mother. But it was too late for all that, so Stephen compromised by slipping into sexual fantasies of Nicolette. It didn't matter if he was screwing an heiress or a celebrity, he thought of Nicolette.
He had been contemplating selling his Pocono Mountain estate outside East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, until seeing Nicolette that fateful day. Other than wintertime skiing and close proximity to his ex-girlfriend, the place offered him little. But, after that encounter, he began making weekend trips from his brownstone in Manhattan to East Stroudsburg, hoping for an another encounter with Nicolette. He spent time in town, at the local Dairy Queen, the record stores, and all the other teenage hot spots, but Nicolette was never on the scene. Whatever Nicolette liked to do, Stephen gloomily concluded, it wasn't the same as other teenage girls. And, a couple of years passed, but his desire to know Nicolette grew. According to his best friend, he was going through a midlife crisis and his attraction to Nicolette was a manifestation of his desire to be young again. Maybe, Stephen had to admit, but all that psychobabble didn't make the erection that occurred when he thought about screwing Nicolette go away.
One rainy Saturday night in late May, Stephen was sitting alone in his Pocono retreat when he heard the unmistakable sounds a car crash, the squealing tires followed by the loud thud-like crash. Looking up from an endless stream of legal paperwork requiring his signature, Stephen contemplated going outside, but it was rainy and quite cold for late May. He turned back to business matters, dismissing the incident; however, his indifference toward the human condition was interrupted when the doorbell began to chime. Sighing, hoping the car crash victims weren't drunken backwoods meth-addicts, he got up from his late 1800s Victorian chair and answered the door.
A young woman with imperfect teeth and dripping red-brown hair stood before him. One of her arms was twisted in an unnatural manner. "I wiped out," she stammered, pale with freight and shivering from the cold rain. "Can I use your phone?"
"Yes, you may," Stephen emphasized the proper grammar, allowing the female entrance into his foyer. Then, he held up a hand, indicating that she was to proceed no further into his luxurious abode. He handed her a black cordless telephone.
After a brief conversation that Stephen easily ignored, the girl said, "My ride is gonna be a few minutes . . . Do you mind if I wait here? My car is totaled, and it's scary as hell in those woods."
Stephen looked out a window, longing desperately to deny her request. But, only a monster would banish an injured teenager into a cold, dark rainy night. "How long?"
"Not too long."
"Your arm is broken," Stephen said apathetically, nodding his head toward the injury.
The female paled a little more. "I was hoping that wasn't the case . . . Are you a doctor or something?"
After informing her that he was not a physician, Stephen offered the pest a towel, which she accepted and promptly began rubbing her hair. The smell of wet dog filled the air, and an unpleasant smile formed on Stephen's extraordinarily handsome face. Looking out the window again, he wondered how long he'd have to tolerate the guttersnipe breathing and polluting his air. The window picked up his image, reflecting a six-foot male with ebony hair in his mid 40s with brown eyes and manly features. Twice a week he played vigorous racquetball with a competitive business colleague and the activity kept him in peak physical condition.
Stephen passed the time until the ragamuffin's friend arrived attending to business matters. He set up shop in the foyer, but didn't offer the girl so much as a chair. She attempted conversation, but Stephen silenced her with a single, degrading look. From the outdated fashion to the well-worn sneakers, he dismissed her as poor, young, and probably not too bright. After some time, the front door began to jiggle, as though an intruder was attempting to gain unauthorized access into Stephen's high-security, technologically-advanced home. Then, a loud bang vibrated, and Stephen stood up. "Your friend doesn't seem to understand the concept of a doorbell," he drew cruelly.
