DOMINION Bentley Little (accelerated reader books .TXT) 📖

crying. Life was so unfair! She pulled down her pants and unrolled a foot or so of toilet paper, which she doubled and used to take out her maxi-pad. Why the hell did she have to have her period now? She wrapped up the pad and dumped it in the garbage.

She remembered the way Dion’s hand had felt on her breast, the way his tongue had felt in her mouth, the way his erection had felt against her thigh. She had wanted him then, and when his fingers had slipped inside her pants she had wanted them to get in all the way, had wanted to feel his fingers touch her vagina.

Why had her period come now?

She looked down at the soak of red blood through white tissue paper.

Although she hated the fact that she had to have a period at all, hated the pain and discomfort, the accompanying pimples and mood swings, the blood itself didn’t bother her. Of the entire ordeal, in fact, it was only the changing of the pads she enjoyed.

She saw a smear of crimson on the tip of her index finger, and she put it to her nose. The blood smell made her invigorated, almost excited.

She felt like going out and raping Dion right now.

She sat down on the toilet, feeling a little lightheaded.

She shouldn’t have touched that wine. It was making her behave strangely, making her think weird thoughts.

She stood, took out a new pad, affixed it to her panties. Before pulling them up, she breathed deeply, inhaling the musky fragrance. She touched her breast, remembering how Dion’s hands had felt through the thin T-shirt cotton. For a moment there, when she had made him stop, it had seemed as though he had almost wanted to hit her, to force her to comply to his wishes.

And for a moment, a brief moment, she had wanted him to do just that.

Dion pressed down on the gas pedal as he drove away from the winery.

There was a burning in his crotch as he sped down the darkened rural road toward home, a painful aching that demanded to be released. He was hard, extraordinarily so, but there was no pleasure in it. Rather, the feeling was one of extreme discomfort. His penis seemed supremely sensitive, and each turn of the steering wheel caused his erection to chafe against his underwear. It hurt, but at the same time it made him stiffer.

The pressure on his penis increased as he pushed farther down on the gas pedal, hurrying, speeding up, desperately anxious to get home.

He thought of Penelope, thought of the way her panties had felt against his fingers, the cool silk and smooth skin soft to his touch.

His erection throbbed.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He swerved off the side of the road, shoved the gear shift into Park, and fairly threw himself out of the car, leaving the engine running. He lurched into the bushes as he frantically unbuckled his belt, ripped open the button fly of his Levi’s, and grasped his engorged organ. He held it hard and began pumping, his hand sliding quickly up and down the shaft.

He came almost immediately, a shower of thick, milky white semen falling on dirt and dead leaves.

He kept stroking his penis until it hurt, but he could not come again.

His erection, however, remained as hard as ever.

Oh, God, he thought. There really was something wrong with him. He needed some kind of help. Medical or psychological or both or… He bent over and threw up into the bushes, his throat and stomach working in sickening tandem, clenching and unclenching until there was nothing left to disgorge.

He wiped his mouth and walked slowly back to the car, buttoning his pants, buckling his belt. He had not cried, had not felt like crying in… he didn’t know how long. Years, probably. But now he got into the car, locked the doors, made sure the windows were closed, and leaned his head against the steering wheel.

He sobbed like a baby.

26

“Miss Daneam?”

Penelope turned around. Her eyes quickly scanned the crowded school hallway looking for the owner of the voice before locking on Mr.

Holbrook, standing in the open doorway of the teachers’ lounge. He beckoned her over. She gave Vella a quick look of apology, then walked over to where the mythology teacher stood.

“Penelope,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Penelope.” He stretched the word out, rolled it on his tongue. “A good name. A classical name.”

“Yes, I know. Penelope was Odysseus’ wife.” She looked impatiently back toward Vella.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the origin of your last name, would you?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid my family was never big on genealogy.”

“Were your ancestors Greek by any chance?”

She shrugged. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Just curious. The real reason I called you over is because I was wondering if you were related to the Daneams of Daneam Vineyards?”

She nodded. “It’s my family’s business.”

“I had some of your wine the other night. Remarkable stuff. Very interesting indeed. I was wondering if perhaps you could arrange a tour of the winery for me.”

“We don’t give tours.” She frowned. “And how did you get a bottle of our wine? It’s not sold around here.”

“A friend of mine, a lady friend, let me try it.”

“How did she get it?”

“I believe she bought it at the liquor store.”

“Here? In Napa?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“That’s strange. I’ll have to ask my mother about that.”

Mr. Holbrook smiled. “Do you think you could ask about a tour at the same time?”

“I’m sorry. We don’t give tours.”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

Penelope looked at him. “This isn’t going to affect my grade, is it?”

He chuckled. “No,” he said. “You have the same C-minus you’ve always had.”

“What?”

“Just joking.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. You and Dion both have easy A’s.”

“Well, bye, then.” She backed away from the door.

“See you in class.”

Penelope walked back across the now not so crowded hallway. Weird, she thought. Just plain weird. What was that all about? Did he want to meet one of her mothers?