Sana was completely unaware of the emotional avalanche she’d unwittingly started in Luke’s mind, with its backed-up hormonal overload. She’d placed her arm and hand near him in what she thought was a platonic way, but it was also a physical reminder of how close she felt toward him, and she assumed he felt the same way toward her, as they had been trading extremely private thoughts and feelings since he arrived. In fact, Luke was the first person to whom Sana had verbalized the growing problems with her downward-spiraling relationship with Shawn. As a direct consequence, she felt Luke understood something about her hidden life, forming a bond, an attraction like a brother and sister, a special place in her mind, that even though Luke appeared to be a mysterious man-child, he projected an emotional perception older than his apparent years. After all, Sana reasoned, he had seen things on his own about her relationship with Shawn and had commented, and he was only a little more than three years younger than she.

For the moment, Luke wasn’t thinking. He was feeling. The heat from Sana’s hand was still burning against his knee, and now the length of her arm was doing the same, all the way up to the point of his hip. Each heartbeat he could feel pulsate in his swelling penis while his testicles contracted under him into painful knots. He needed relief. He needed to move, which caused the muscles in his legs and groin to begin to contract in rhythmical spasms.

Sensing Luke’s muscular contractions, Sana started. She was sitting directly next to him, and she suddenly spun around to face him, her left hand dragging innocently up his thigh. Seeing perspiration dotting his forehead and his dazed expression, her first horror was that the man-boy was having a heart attack. She stood up at once and tried to get him to lie down. But he fought her, and fought her with overwhelming strength so that the pushing match was short-lived.

“Okay!” she cried. “You’re hurting me!” He had grabbed her wrists and was compressing them to the point of shutting off the blood supply to her hands.

As if waking from a kind of seizure or at least a daze, Luke let go of Sana, who immediately recovered her wrists and rubbed them to restore circulation.

“My God, you hurt me,” Sana complained, still massaging her wrists.

As if in a postictal state, Luke merely stared at Sana. He didn’t try to talk, merely stared at her with a flaccid, shell-shocked face.