Chapter 7

Football season ended and as much as I love the game, I was glad to have time to compete in the Ballroom Dance events again. I made Brandon join the class and he turned out to be spectacular — graceful, balanced, precise. Mr. Fuentes nearly blew watching Brandy and Carolyn Scott twirl around the room after a week's worth of practice.

Dancing with my ex-girlfriend Leigh was still a bitch though. We still seemed to push each other buttons without even trying but she barely tolerated me any other time. I didn't get it — she dumped me. Publicly. Brutally. Why she blamed me 'cause her love life sucked, I had no idea. My problem, of course was, that I knew what a little evil cunt bitch she was. I knew she could inflict pain. She wasn't clever or particularly creative — usually. Every once in a while she'd think of something new and I'd be sore for a week — but really she was consistent. Even then, we'd been broken up almost a full year and she still dug her nails into me every chance she got. Every dance class, I went home with blue balls. Hell, blue-black balls.

Brandon grew a pair at school and although on the weekends and in private he was the biggest pussy I knew, he actually started standing up for himself when the jackasses in class tried to mess with him. I was actually kinda proud of him — I didn't know if I had anything to do with it but I was glad he wasn't letting himself get stepped on anymore. As the Sweetheart Ball approached, I gave up on finding a girlfriend in time and planned on taking Lisa again.

"My parents will be gone that week." Brandy told me a few days later. "I have an appointment right after school today but can you come over tonight? Around 7? I want to show you something."

"Cool." It wasn't like I had plans.

I did have chemistry that afternoon. Mrs. Hinkler paired us off for an experiment using lots of test tubes and open flame. I got Sheila Garcia who was one of those vampire, all black wearing goth wannabes that never crossed my path. While she set up the tubes, I got the burner going and put my hand over the flame just to see how long I could hold it there. Every time it got hot, I pulled my hand back. Peter made me promise I wouldn't self inflict damage anymore. I got to where I could hold it over the flame — pretty close actually — for the count of 10. I was trying for fifteen when Sheila held my wrist.

"Play with fire, you gonna get burned."

"Hey! Leggo!" I tried to put my arm back but she had a pretty solid grip. I pulled back hard and damn near yanked her across the table, knocking into our experiment. We both grabbed for the burners and test tubes before anything broke.

"Careful!" Mrs. Hinkler called out, "No fooling around this stuff, people."

I looked at my hand to make sure I hadn't actually gotten burned. "Bitch." I muttered under my breath.

"Wuss." She muttered back.

"What?" I snapped.

"What?"

We stared at each other for a solid minute then she put her hand over the flame. I watched her lips counting the seconds. Twenty-five. Twenty-five seconds before she couldn't hide the wince and pulled her hand back. I put my hand over the burner. And left it there. At twenty, I knew it was scaled. At twenty-five, I knew my face was giving me away. At thirty-five, I gave up and snatched my hand back. "Oww." I hissed, "Fuck!"

Sheila pulled my hand across the table and studied it for a moment. She blew on it gently. It was cool and a little soothing even as it stung. My throat went dry. Then she found some tissues in her book bag, used her Evian to wet them, placed them on my palm and curled my fingers around to hold it in place. "I'll measure and pour. You take the notes." She said.

My hand hurt like hell. But all of a sudden, Sheila seemed to change. She didn't look any different and she wasn't really acting any different but she was definitely more attractive. We started the experiment. While we waited for the chemicals to cook, I said, "So, do you burn the fuck outta all yo' science partners or am I just lucky?"

She shrugged, "You shouldn't take risk if-n you ain't got guts."

"Oh, an' you know about risk. What, dangerous vampires?"

She glares at me. "You so shallow. You jocks think that everything is the world is either sports or not sports. At least I know what risk is — and I know I haven't taken a real one. You have less of an idea than I do."

"Hey, I know risk. Trust me."

"News flash Mr. All Star: girl on top is not risky."

"News flash Ms. High an' Mighty: girl on top with razor is."

She laughed and checked the experiment. She read off the first set of measurements and I dutifully wrote them down. We reset the model and ran the second test.

"You are so not into kink." She chuckled.

"You don't know fuck about me." I don't know why it burned me so much that she thought that I was so clean cut but it did. "Ima sick little shit."

"You uh privileged little jock who's not gonna have ta work a day in yo' life. You will never have ta take a real risk. So of course you a little freaky now. But really, you gonna wind up in the missionary position every Thursday with yo' blonde ex-cheerleader wife."

I stared at her hard. It took me a minute to reign in enough to speak. "OK, first off you don't know uh damn thing 'bout me or my family. Yeah we got money, but we work like shit for it. You don't believe me, I got boat duty next weekend, you can come out with me and watch me haul fish fo' 12 fuckin' hours. Second off, fuck you. You think you know every one 'cause you all outsider and shit. You don't. You wouldn't know uh real fetish if it bit you on the fuckin' leg."

She was silent for a minute — which was probably a good thing. After a while, the test tube started bubbling and she read off the next set of numbers. We didn't talk about anything but the experiment and I spent the rest of my time trying to think of descriptions for her more clever that 'uppity bitch'.

At the end of class, she came around to my side of the table and put her foot on my chair. She rolled up her pants leg to reveal a bit mark. The faint bruise showed still identifiable teeth marks. "Trust me. When fetish bits me on the leg, I know." She put her pants back down. "See you after lunch."

I sat with friends during lunch but I know I missed the whole conversation. I was stuck thinking what kind of freak lets someone leave bite marks on them? What kind of twist wants to bit a living person hard enough to leave visible bite marks? I mean that kind of shit hurts. Really, seriously. Most people chicken out before the pain even starts. You'd feel the breath, maybe the lips. Then the smooth pressure of the teeth themselves. Sharp. It would start slowly and build...

"Alex?"

Beth's voice snapped me out of my fog and I realized that my dick was throbbing from the idea of someone — of Sheila — biting me. I swallowed hard, took a breath and straightened my shoulders.

"Yeah. Hey. What up?"

"You ok?"

"Yeah. Lost in thought. Chem class was..." Hot? " ... weird."

"Yeah, whatever. Listen, I wanna go to the movies with Lisa and Raina. Take my shift on Saturday."

It wasn't actually an order but she was depending on my saying yes because she was Dom. "Y'know Peter never abused his power like that."

"Yeah, y'know Peter ain't here. Take my shift or I'll call him an' tell him I saw uh hand print on Brandy's ass."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "You are such uh evil cunt!"

"Don't you have a 'no swearing' rule?" She tried not to laugh with me. "Come on, Alex, please? I'll take yours two weeks in uh row."

I leaned up and kissed her cheek. "It's cool, I'll take it. We'll call it punishment for a rules violation."

"Cool." She kissed my cheek back. "Thanks." She put her cell to her ear. "Told ya." She walked off yakking away.

My next class was a waste of time. I wasn't a big history buff anyway and that day I had less interest than usual. Sheila was in my German class in the following period. History actually seemed to slow down as the class wore on, every minute seeming to take hours to pass. Mid-way through, Mr. Gannon put us into discussion groups to debate something that happened two billion years ago. I banged my head on my desk.

"Dude!" one of my classmates snapped and I tried to pull my head outta my ass long enough to participate.

Class lasted somewhere between forty-five minutes and forty-five hours — by which time I was aching to know who bit Sheila and if they would bit me.

When class ended, I damn near ran to the next classroom and waited in the hall for her. She eventually came strolling down the hall with one of her goth friends. I grabbed her wrist. "Hey. Let's talk."

Goth boy glared at me but Sheila just tilted her head. "It's ok, Don. I'll be in in a minute." I pulled her down the hall to an empty doorway. "Ok, talk."

"How'd you get that mark?" she raised her eyebrows. "Sheila! Come on! Just tell me."

She shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me anyway." She half smiled. "I could show you."

"Ok, so show me."

She glanced around us. "Not here. It'd take too long, anyway. After school, you know where the smokehouse is?" a tool shed on the back edge of the school property. I nodded. "Ok, meet me there as soon as you can." I let her arm go and she rubbed her wrist. "Quite a grip." She seemed to be thinking of something else as she walked back to the classroom. I got through German class barely. I kept finding my eyes drawn to Sheila and wondering what other marks she was hiding. Who marked her? What she planned to do to me?

After school, it seemed the entire building was determined to get in my way. I got to the smokehouse without killing anyone by sheer act of will. When I got there, I found the wide variety of goth losers listening to The Cure and one tall black dude.

"Jay! What up?" I put my fist out to my second cousin James. If you've seen my Dad, you can see a slight family resemblance between me and Jay but otherwise, forget it.

"Alex." He put down his notepad and met my fist. "How's the family?"

"All good." If he didn't know about Grandma, I wasn't gonna tell him there. "Since when do you hang out back here?"

He shrugged. "Always have." I caught sight of the sketch he was working on. It's a gargoyle. Not the comic book stuff he used to do when we used to hang out during church service. "Very cool."

"Thanks."

"Since when do you know McElroy?" a guy wearing mascara asked him.

"Since birth. We're cousins. My grandfather is his grand uncle."

"So why are you here now?" one of the girls asked me.

"To see me." Sheila said from behind me.

"Dude, Sunday?" I put my hand out to Jay again.

"If I can't avoid it." He meant church service, not me. He tapped me again. "Later."

I followed Sheila into the woods nearby. They were a thin grove of trees but enough to provide a little cover between you any one approaching you. It was not so much private as it was saying 'we want to be private'.

"Sit down," she said, "Indian style."

I sat.

"Ok, it's a game. And here's how you play. Give me your hands." She pulled my arms behind my back.

"Hey! What the fuck!"

"Shut up or forfeit." She barked.

I set my jaw and let her tie my hands behind my back. I wasn't sure just how big a jackass I was but if she killed me, at least Jay was nearby to identify the body and knew who saw me last. If, of course, he wasn't there to help bury the body.

"Now," She said when my arms where pretty well constricted, "Lean forward and bit your leg."

"Come again?"

"It's a gag. You gag yourself with your own leg. I'm gonna do somethin' that'll hurt and you have ta stay quiet. If you scream, everyone will know you uh wuss. If you want me ta stop, just say 'uncle'. If I finish before you do, you win." She had that smug look again. "Still think you like kink?"

I leaned forward and put my teeth around my leg. The position itself was a form of torture. Behind me, her soft hands slipped under my shirt and stroked my back. Then she pulled the shirt up and over my eyes. "No peeking." She sang softly. That was the moment I knew I was gonna lose it before it was over.

She reached around my waist and undid my belt. My jaw clinched as I swallowed hard. She pushed the back of my pants down a bit.

Some thing scratched me. Something sharp, claw-like, slowly ripping skin. Not deep but definitely painful. Nothing I couldn't handle yet but the anticipation surged through me and I grunted softly. She wiped the spot with something cool. Then fire spread across the mark — alcohol. She repeated the process, wiping the alcohol across two marks, then three, then four. Each time it burned like fuck and my teeth clinched a little tighter around my leg to keep from whimpering aloud. I dry came around the tenth mark, mewing as quietly as I could — just assuming that screaming 'cause I came would be considered wussing out. I lost count of the marks. I came twice.