'Beau . . .'
'You've already seen all there is to see. No reason to be shy anymore,' he whispered. When he put his arm around me, I tried to move away; I willed my feet to carry me off, but my command died somewhere on the way and I remained beside him, as pliable as soft clay, permitting him to turn me around so that I faced him and enabled him to kiss me. I felt his nakedness against me, his manliness harden.
'Beau, please . . .'
'Shh,' he said, wiping my face softly with his palm. He kissed me tenderly on the lips and then he lifted me into his arms and carried me back to the lounge. As he lowered me onto it, he went to his knees and leaned over to kiss me again. His fingers moved quickly over my clothing, unbuttoning my blouse, unzipping my skirt. He undid my bra and peeled it away. My breasts shuddered, uncovered, but I didn't resist. I kept my eyes closed and only moaned as he kissed me on the neck, the shoulders, and then nibbled gently under and over my breasts. He lifted me gently and slipped my skirt down over my hips, quickly burying his face in the small of my stomach. His kisses were like fire now. Everywhere his lips touched me, I felt the heat build.
'You're wonderful, Ruby, wonderful. You're as pretty as Gisselle on the outside and far more beautiful and lovely on the inside,' he said. 'I can't help but love you. I can't think of anything else but you. I'm mad for you,' he swore.
Wonder filled me. Did he truly love me with such passion? In a moment of exquisite silence, I heard the gentle tapping of the rain and felt a warm shudder pass through my body. His fingers continued to explore me, stir me. I seized his head in my hands, intending to stop him, but instead I kissed his forehead, his hair. I held him against my bosom tightly.
'Your heart's pounding and so is mine,' he said. He looked into my eyes. I closed them and then, as in a dream, I felt his soft lips move over my cheek, in my hair, then lightly over my eyelids and finally my lips again. This time, as he kissed me, he slipped his fingers under the waist of my panties and drew them down.
I started to protest, but he quieted me with another kiss.
'It will be wonderful, Ruby,' he whispered. 'I promise. Besides, you should know what it's like. An artist should know,' he said.
'Beau, I'm afraid. Please . . . don't . . .'
'It's all right.' He smiled down at me. I was naked below him and his nakedness was against me. I felt him throbbing. It took my breath away, made it harder and harder to talk, to plead. 'I want to be your first. I should be your first,' he said. 'Because I love you.'
'Do you, Beau? Do you really?'
'Yes,' he swore. Then he returned his lips to mine, slipping himself in between my legs at the same time. I tried to resist, keeping my legs tight, but as he prodded, he continued to kiss me and whisper and nudge me in places I had shown no boy nor man before. I felt like I was trying to hold back a deluge. Wave after wave of excitement washed over me until I was drowning in my own thundering flood of passion. I lost my final desire to resist and felt my thighs and my back relax as he moved with determination to enter me. I cried. I felt my head spin and a delightful dizziness send me reeling back into the echo of my own soft moans. The explosions within me, surprised, frightened, and then pleased me. Finally, his climax came fast, hot, and furious. I felt him shudder and then come to a peaceful stillness, his lips still pressed against my cheek, his breathing still heavy and hard.
'Oh, Ruby,' he moaned, 'Ruby, you're beautiful, wonderful.'
The realization of what had happened, what I had permitted swept over me. I pushed on his shoulders.
'Let me up, Beau. Please,' I cried. He sat back and I seized my garments and began putting them on quickly. 'You're not mad at me, are you?' he asked.
'I'm mad at myself,' I said.
'Why? Wasn't it wonderful for you, too?'
I buried my foam in my hands and began to cry. I couldn't help it. He tried to soothe me, comfort me.
'Ruby, it's all right. Really. Don't cry.'
'It's not all right, Beau. It's not. I was hoping I was different,' I said.
'Different? From what? From Gisselle?'
'No. From . . .' I couldn't say it. I couldn't tell him I was hoping I wasn't a Landry because he didn't know who my real mother was, but that's what I meant. The blood that ran through my veins was just as hot as the blood that had run through my mother's and had gotten her in trouble with Paul's father and later, with Daddy.
'I don't understand,' Beau said. He started to put on his clothes.
'It doesn't matter,' I said, regaining control of myself. I turned to him. 'I'm not blaming you for anything, Beau. You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do myself in the end.'
'I really care for you, Ruby,' he said. 'I think I care for you more than I've cared for any other girl.'
'Do you, Beau? You didn't just say those things?'
'Of course not. I . . .'
We heard footsteps in the corridor outside my studio. I hurried to finish dressing and he stuffed his shirt into his pants just as someone tried the door. Instantly, there was a pounding. It was Daphne.
'Open this door immediately!' she cried.
I ran to it and unlocked it. She stood there, staring in at us, looking me over with so much disapproval, I couldn't help but tremble.
'What are you doing?' she demanded. 'Why was this door locked?'
'We were just studying our play lines and didn't want to be disturbed,' I said quickly. My heart was pounding. I was sure my hair was messed and my clothes looked hurriedly put on. She ran her eyes over me again as if I were a
