Well ... it could be worse.

"When was your last period, Angel?" I ask again more gently this time, wondering how likely it was that I really was going to be a parent as a seventy-year-old. Clearly my teenaged tenant is not used to discussing her menstrual cycle with a man. It takes a few minutes to explain the biological details about ovulating, fertility and the rhythm method before Alison is willing to share with me that her period ended a little over a week ago. Unless Alison is very unlucky, she's not likely to have an egg waiting for my eager sperm.

"So, I'm not going to get pregnant after all?" She sounds almost disappointed as well as confused. Clearly, while her school covered the evils of abortion with in-depth detail, they were less informative about the way conception actually works.

"Probably not," I brush away a strand of her soft blonde hair, "It might be a good idea to douche out your vagina though. Sperm can live for a few days swimming around inside." Alison nods silently slowly beginning to understand that having a baby is something that is not the complete mystery she was taught.

"That must be why I didn't get pregnant when Richard and I did it that first time..." Her eyes refuse to meet mine, but she goes on all the same. "He didn't use a condom that first time, either."

I decide to reinforce her firm resolve to use rubbers when she has sex. From what little I know of Dick, I bet he sticks his cock into any hole he can, and I have no desire to pick up any STD he might run into. "But condoms are a good idea, make sure you keep using them."

"Yes. Everyone has to use protection, even my worthless boyfriend." She smiles shyly at me as we lie there together. As flattered as I am to hear this beautiful coed agree with me, I'm a little worried about the dreamy look in her eyes. The last thing I want in my life is for a nineteen-year-old coed to fall in love with me.

"Good," I growl possessively, and then even though I promised not to pry into her private life I have to ask about Dick "What's the story about you and Di- Richard?" I decide that calling the man 'Dick' might tip my hand. "You deserve better."

"I met him at a house party, Mr. P. He was playing in the band in the basement, and I guess I was kinda staring at him. He wasn't like any of the other boys that courted me, he was raw and angry, and when he kissed me..." She pauses for a second before finishing the story in a flurry of words. "I couldn't stop him, Mr. P. I tried, but he pulled me upstairs to an empty bedroom, lifted off my dress and fucked me as I lay under him sobbing quietly." I stare at her in disbelief, and she sniffs again. "That is how I lost my virginity, Mr. P." She wipes away what might be the start of some tears. "To a boy I had just met who not only didn't know my name but didn't even know he was my first."

"Oh Honey, I'm so sorry for you." I whisper gently and rock her in my arms. I wanted to take a baseball bat to Dick and smash him into a bloody pulp. I know, it's a little ironic to feel that protective of her after basically coercing her myself, but at that moment I would have done anything to protect my innocent young tenant.

"It was my own stupid fault, Mr. P." Alison tells me bitterly, "I had just gotten into a fight with my dad, that's the only reason I let my friend take me to that stupid party in the first place."

"No Angel, that wasn't your fault," I still want to smash in that bastard's face, but right now I am more worried about Alison. "You were the victim. What I don't understand is why you still have anything to do with him."

Alison starts slowly, "You see, that night Richard discovered I couldn't say 'no', or that when I did, that I didn't really mean it." Alison sighs as she settles her head back on my chest. "When I got back to campus this fall, he found me in the commons, and it just started happening again." She shrugs her shoulders like it no big deal, but I can only imagine how hard this is for her. "He led me to a dark corner where we started kissing; I tried to get him to slow down, but he had his hands down my jeans like I belonged to him. I guess in a way I do."

"What?" I definitely lose my cool for a second or two. "This is America in the 21st century. Women don't belong to men like some kind of twisted John Norman fantasy!" Alison though is not at all bothered by my angry exclamation.

"My mother warned me that sex would hurt the first few times on my honeymoon." I can only imagine what the birds-and-bees talk in the Miller household must have been like, "she said that the pain I would feel is my sacrifice to my husband; that the blood offering is the woman's way of affirming that she belongs to her man and that she will obey him in all things." Instead of arguing with her on her bed I decide to change the nature of our conversation.

"I see. Well, I'm a man and I've had sex with you, are you going to do whatever I say too?" Alison's breath catches in her throat, and she looks up earnestly.

“Would you like that, Mr. P?” Her big eyes meet mine unflinchingly, “Would you like me to serve and obey you in every way?”