DOMINION Bentley Little (accelerated reader books .TXT) 📖

went through this hypocritical little routine anyway, pretending it was a spontaneous decision on both their parts, as though each of them hadn’t thought about it all day, hadn’t washed the most intimate portions of their bodies in preparatory showers, hadn’t made sure they were wearing clean underwear and socks without holes.

“We could stop by Dairy Queen,” Ann suggested. “They’re still open.”

“We could,” Tim agreed. He paused. “Or we could just drive around.”

She smiled. “On South Street?”

He nodded, grinning. “We could.”

“Okay.”

He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot onto the street.

South might not be an officially recognized lover’s lane, but it was their lover’s lane, bordering as it did several of the wineries and the wooded foothills, safely away from casual traffic.

As always, they pulled onto the dirt shoulder and parked in a dark area between two large trees. Tim got out of the car and took a blanket from the backseat. Several times they had done it in the car, when it had been raining or too cold outside, but it had always been an awkward experience. The backseat was cramped and uncomfortable, and half of the front seat was taken up by the steering wheel, making movement extremely difficult, so they preferred, whenever possible, to do it outside.

That was one thing he would miss when winter arrived.

A pickup roared by, brights on, and they heard the laughter only seconds before a water balloon hit the hood of the Dart.

“Asshole!” Tim yelled.

He was answered only by a retreating honk of the truck’s horn.

“Let’s go into the woods,” Ann suggested. “Away from the road.”

“What if someone vandalizes my car?”

“They won’t.”

“They already did.” He pointed toward the wet hood.

“You want to go home?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, come on, then.” She took his hand, leading him through the grass and toward the trees. “I’m not about to stay here and wait for those morons to come back and hit us next time.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

He shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Melbury.”

“You better believe it.”

They walked around a copse of bushes, away from the road. “How about here?” Tim asked.

“Ground’s too rough. Remember that time when my back got all cut up?”

He nodded, grimaced. They continued walking.

They reached a small clearing and he was about to suggest that they spread the blanket here when he heard a sound of rustling leaves and cracking twigs from somewhere up ahead. He stopped, grabbed her arm, put a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh.”

She listened, heard it. “Do you think it’s an animal?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” He began walking slowly forward.

“I don’t think we should—”

They both saw it at once. Movement through the trees, flashes of skin, bluish white in the moonlight.

“Come on,” Tim said, creeping closer. Through the leaves he saw rounded breasts, a triangle of pubic hair. A naked woman. Dancing.

Ann shook her head, holding back. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Let’s just see what it is.” He grabbed her hand. Her palm was wet, sweaty.

“I think it’s some kind of orgy.”

“You think so?” Tim grinned. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

“No,” she said, and her voice was serious. “I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“Nothing to be scared of? Someone’s dancing naked under the full moon and you say there’s nothing to be scared of? We don’t know who it is. It might be a witch or satanist or something. Let’s just get out of here. We’ll go somewhere else.”

“No,” Tim said stubbornly. “I want to see.” He started moving away from her, toward the dancing woman. He heard low, throaty laughter, thought he heard a sexy moan.

Maybe it was an orgy.

He crept forward. The ground here was littered with empty wine bottles, many of them broken, and it was almost impossible to walk quietly. He heard Ann following behind him, the ground crunching beneath her feet.

He wanted to tell her to be quiet, but he was afraid of making noise himself.

Afraid?

Yes. He was afraid. He was aroused, excited, titillated, but Ann was right. There was something spooky about the whole thing, something scary. Naked women did not just dance in empty fields under the full moon for no reason at all.

He could see the woman more clearly now. And another woman. They were older, in their thirties or forties, but they were still pretty damn sexy, and they were laughing and dancing in joyous abandon. Were they lesbians? He couldn’t tell. But he thought that Ann was probably right.

They probably were part of some cult, performing some type of pagan ritual.

He crouched down behind a bush on the edge of the field. Ann moved behind him, pressing against his back. “Let’s go,” she hissed in his ear.

He shook his head, watching the women. They were laughing, obviously enjoying themselves, and his erection grew as he stared at their bouncing breasts, at the thatches of down between their legs.

The dancing sped up, became more frenzied, more frenetic. Tim was not sure when the movements crossed the border from free form into fanatic; he knew only that suddenly the women were no longer dancing, no longer celebrating. There was a wildness to their steps, danger in their motions. They seemed mad, almost maniacal, and he was frightened. His erection was gone, and he wished that they were safely back in the car and on their way home.

Now there was laughter behind them as well as in front of them, and it no longer seemed happy or joyous. He turned his head, saw a nude woman dancing in the small clearing where he’d wanted to spread the blanket.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ann whispered.

He shook his head. Intentionally or unintentionally, these women, whoever they were, had surrounded them. It was now impossible for them to return to the car without being seen.

But why was he so afraid of being seen?

He didn’t know. But he was afraid, very afraid, and he wished he’d listened to Ann in the first place and left when they’d first heard the sounds.

He was grabbed from behind.

He tried