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Because your house looked nice and I thought you might have some nice things..." she quivered a little and tears formed. "I was gonna break in and take some of your stuff.... I'm sorry... I am so sorry...." she began to break out in tears Crying nonstop now, I couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. "Um ... its alright .. don't cry... please?" she began to perk up a little but her cheeks were still stained with tears. "But why did you take my clothes off?"I asked "Because the clothes I was wearing were badly ripped." she pointed at the pile of rags in the corner. " ... Oh my.. so your homeless?"I asked "No ... well... yes.. I'm never going back to that place though, no one can make me.." well you cant stay here. I'm sure that someone Is out there looking for y... "PLEASE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!"she stopped me mid sentence. "If they find me .. They will take me back.. I cant go back ... If I go back they will.... they will rape me again!" My face turned white and I. . .but where? The people I came in contact with in my daily routine were polished and confident and ‘out of my league’. At the Den I found I could get cheap beer and sit in the company of other people. The Den was also a hangout for the low life of the area. Women could be had for the price of a couple of beers and five minutes of conversation, albeit, one must surely have pangs of guilt on the morning after. I didn’t fit in. Since my studies were progressing well and I was knowledgeable in all areas it was natural that I should begin tutoring other students. It gave me a chance to sharpen my social skills and earn some much needed money at the same time. This is how I came to know the certain fraternity that was to figure so prominently in this story. I tutored many of the rat brothers in a number of subjects and they paid well. As we became aquatinted I overheard stories of their social activities and if half the stories of their conquests of women were true they must surely have.
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Now, Mrs. Tucker was almost fifty, old enough that we wondered if she had started menopause, but apparently that was not the case yet. She was 49, in fact, the same exact age as Stewart, who was some years older than Amber's mother, Debbie. If she was carrying Stewart's baby, then all hope of reconciliation was lost. Lance Tucker wasn't the forgiving man that he wanted me to be with his daughter, that was for sure. An orphan, he had come to prize marriage and family very much, a very traditional notion of both, in fact, and this was a knife to the heart for a man like him. He was the sort who might go nuclear, except that he was too much the gentleman to hurt a pregnant woman, even one who had cuckolded and thus humiliated him. He certainly wouldn't keep her as his wife, whatever she wanted."I am truly sorry. Both of us are. But what now? We have to make the most of it, I fear. This is the end of our two marriages and we're not going to hurt each other on top of hurting our spouses,".

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