Pretenses Chapter 2


Ann Coulter

Jada Pinkett-Smith

Wicked Wisdom

Phillip Thomas Duck

Alisha Yvonne

Laura Schlessinger

Dr. Frederick K.C. Price

James Patterson

Eric Jerome Dickey

Jackie Collins

L.A. Banks

Brandon Massey

Kendra Norman-Bellamy

Pretenses Cover
THE RAPIST began his career following an incident on the Beltway. Apparently, he wasn't driving fast enough for the rude couple in the Lexus behind him. The man kept flashing his bright lights and blowing the horn. After the Rapist switched lanes to allow them to pass, the woman pressed her middle finger against the passenger side window as they sped by him.

The Rapist was so enraged that he followed them to the John F. Kennedy Concert Hall on F Street. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra was performing. He asked the box office clerk what time the concert would be over and then returned to his car to wait. As the hours passed, his anger smoldered, growing more intense with each passing second. When the performance ended, people came out of the Hall by the hundreds. The Rapist spotted the rude couple getting into their Lexus and followed them again. He was planning to teach them a lesson they would never forget.

The couple stopped at Marcel's restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue, about a half a mile away from Kennedy Center for French Cuisine. Marcel's normally closed at eleven, but all the restaurants were staying open late because of the concert. The Rapist was lucky enough to get a table next to the rude couple, which was only a few feet from the baby grand piano near the bar.

The Rapist sipped his coffee and pretended to read a copy of the Washington Post. He listened to the couple as they went on and on about the concert and how great the conductor was. He assumed they were married, judging by the wedding rings they wore. When they finished their meal, they talked quietly about going home to make love.

The Rapist followed them to their home in Alexandria, pulling into their driveway right behind them-flashing his bright lights into their eyes. Walking up to the driver's side window, he brandished a gun. The fear in their eyes exhilarated him when he realized they had completely forgotten the incident on the Beltway and had no idea who he was.

"I've got $300 in my billfold. Take it. It's yours," the man offered. "Take your ring off, honey. It's insured."

"I'm not a thief," The Rapist said. "Now get outta the fuckin' car."

At gunpoint, he forced the couple into the house and into the bedroom. He forced the wife to tape her husband's hands and feet with duct tape he had brought with him. Feeling in complete control, the Rapist reminded them of the Beltway incident. The shock on their faces gave him a potent erection. He began to throb.

"This is gonna be a night to remember. I guarantee you that," The Rapist said gleefully. He looked at the woman who was so terrified that she seemed to be frozen solid. "You two need a lesson in highway etiquette," he told them. "Strip, you high-class bitch."

She apologized profusely. "I'm sorry. Please...don't."

"Too late, sweetheart," The Rapist bluffed. He just wanted to scare them-push the situation to them limit, and leave them humiliated.

But the husband, believing that his wife was about to be raped, yelled, "I'll fucking kill you if you touch her!"

The Rapist laughed as the husband continued screaming, "You son-of-a-bitch! Touch her, and I'll hunt you down if it takes the rest of my life!"

When the wife was completely nude, the Rapist taped her limbs to the bedposts. He pulled out a switchblade and cut the tape away from the husband's hands and feet. Then he closed the knife and put it into his pocket. He tossed the gun to the other side of the room, "Okay, tough guy. Fucking kill me."

The husband, an upper-class professional who had gone to elite schools all of his life, was no match for the Rapist. After giving him a fierce pummeling, the Rapist tossed the husband on the bed and stripped his pants off.

"Oh, no! No! No! Please! Don't!" The husband whimpered, but it did no good. "Aaaaah!"

Moments later, the bed springs howled as the violation escalated to a feverish pace. The wife turned her eyes away, but she couldn't shut out the sound of her husband's screams.

After the Rapist had finished with the husband, he cut the tape away from the wife's hands and feet. "I was only gonna scare you, you rude motherfucker. But you had to be tough. You brought this shit on yourself. You fuckin' hear me! This was your fault. Not mine."

Then he watched the wife console her whimpering husband. Tears ran down her cheeks too. Standing over the weeping couple, the Rapist felt a sense of power he had never felt before-it pleased him.

He left the couple to lick their wounds in their mutual humility. Later, when he thought about it, he realized that a strange thing had happened to him. The fight with the husband had been an aphrodisiac. Raping the husband had been the most fulfilling sex he had ever had.


During the next two years, the Rapist sexually assaulted sixty-seven men, none of whom ever reported the assaults to the police; they had no idea that a vicious rapist was at large until Father Merle Reynolds-his latest victim-told his story.

The traumatized priest was taken to the Hospital where he told two detectives about the violent assault. The Rapist had come to St. Mary's Cathedral under the pretense of seeking absolution.

Before violating the priest, the Rapist, in vivid detail, had confessed all of his crimes, describing each victim by name and occupation. The priest, however, refused to divulge the names of the victims, citing the sanctity of the confessional, but told the detectives that the Rapist had given him permission to inform them of his existence and warn them that he intended to continue ravaging men at every opportunity.

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