Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Wine Tasting

The hillside vineyard was golden in the late afternoon light. My father Arthur had brought me here to taste wine, he said. But the way he held my gaze across the oak barrel told me this was about something deeper. He taught me to swirl and sniff and savor. His hand corrected mine on the glass. When the sommelier left us alone in the cellar, surrounded by bottles older than me, I let him taste my surrender.