"How do you feel about me?" she asked. There was a slight trembling in her voice.
He knew what she wanted to hear but was not sure he could say it. He had said it before, over the phone, but in person it was harder. Besides, he had never loved anyone before, and he did not know if he loved Penelope now. He liked her, was obviously infatuated with her, but he was not sure mat his feelings went any deeper than that. "How do you feel about me?" he asked.
She looked into his eyes. "I love you."
"I--I love you too," he replied, and it was true.
They kissed. His left hand was around her back, and his right cupped her breast, squeezing it gently. His penis was hard, and when his tongue slid between her lips and found her own soft tongue, he felt as though he was going to explode. His hand on her breast began to cramp from the awkward position, and he let it fall to a more natural position in her lap. She did not try-to push him away, and he moved his hand between her parted legs and started massaging her crotch through the jeans.
She reached for him and her fingers lightly traced the outline of his erection.
Peripherally, through the windshield, he thought he saw movement outside. He looked up as he kissed her and saw the security camera stationed on the top of the winery gate post swivel toward the car, but he didn't want to interrupt the rhythm they'd found and didn't want to upset her, and he pushed Penelope down on the seat as he started to unbuckle her pants.
April drove quickly in order to beat Dion home. She went over in her mirid what Margaret and the others had told her.
It explained a lot, she thought.
It explained everything.
The moon was full and hung high over the hills, white now after bleaching upward from yellow. The Vintage 1870 shops were closing, and Tim South and Ann Mel bury walked hand in hand across the gravel parking lot to the car, following a few other late stragglers. The air was warm but tinged with a cool autumn breeze. Tim, for one, welcomed the changing of the seasons. He was tired of sweating--his old Dart didn't have air conditioning and seemed to retain heat even with the windows open--and he was equally tired of spending the first half of each date in broad daylight. It was bad enough that his parents made him come home by eleven, but the fact that it didn't get dark until eight or eight-thirty put a further crimp in his style. He was glad the days were getting shorter. And he could not wait until Daylight Saving Time disappeared.
They reached the car, and he gallantly opened the passenger door, letting Ann in before stepping around to the driver's side.
She ran a hand through her short, spiky hair as he climbed into his seat. "So what do you want to do now?" she asked.
Tim shrugged. "I don't know."
He knew what they were going to do next. They both knew. But they always 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 Jot 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.