“Do it, Beebo. God! Do it!”
“I’ll never stop. Never.” Her lips grazed Laura’s brow. Laura shook all over. She couldn’t talk, except to repeat Beebo’s name over and over and over, as if she were in a trance. Beebo’s hands came slowly over her hair, her face, her breasts, her waist, her hips. And then one strong arm went around her and Laura groaned. They sank to the floor, wracked with passion, kissing each other ravenously, tearing at each other’s clothes.
They never heard Nix’s indignant barking from the bathroom, or the phone when it rang a half hour later. They never felt the chill of the rainy night nor the hard discomfort of the floor where they lay. Or the phone when it rang again. And later, yet again. It was not until late morning and brilliant sunshine invaded the room that they were aware of anything but themselves.
Once again it was Laura who woke up first. She was too bewildered to think straight at first, and the sight of Beebo, turning over slowly and opening her eyes, did nothing to straighten her out. Physically she felt wonderful. For a few moments she luxuriated in her body, letting her mind go blank.
She rubbed her hands gently over herself and discovered a bruise on her thigh. The little ache gave her a sudden hard thrill and she remembered how Beebo made the bruise with her mouth. She had to fight hard against the need to roll over on Beebo and start loving her all over again. She touched the small bruise once more and felt the same shameless pleasure. She stretched, more for Beebo’s benefit than her own.
Beebo caught her and pulled her down and rubbed her black hair against Laura’s breasts. Laura laughed and struggled with her.
“Beebo, I’ve got to get up. I have to get to work.”
“To hell with work. This is love.”
“Don’t keep me, Beebo. This job means the world to me. I don’t want to be late.” She spoke the truth, yet she had no idea of how she was going to get up and get out.
“What time do you think it is, baby?”
“I don’t know.”
Beebo peered over her head at the dresser clock. “Eleven-thirty,” she said.
Laura gasped and tried to get off the floor, the surprise giving her impetus, but Beebo held her. “You’re going nowhere, Bo-peep,” she said. Her tone, her self-assurance, brought out the fight in Laura.
“I’ve got to get there. You don’t know how far behind we are. I could lose my job. And if my father ever—” She stopped, still squirming to get up. She got as far as her knees but Beebo grasped her wrists and held her there.
“I said, you’re not going anywhere, baby,” she said, and she wasn’t kidding.
“Beebo, be reasonable. Please. You can’t know how important it is to me.” It was suddenly important in a new way, too; it meant distance between her and Beebo. She was vaguely afraid that Beebo was strong enough to overwhelm her, to dominate her life. She needed something else to keep her perspective, her independence.
“You don’t know how important you are to me,” Beebo returned. “What the hell, you’re half a day late already. Call ’em and tell ’em you’re sick.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t lie worth a damn, Beebo.”
“You can say ‘I’m sick’ can’t you? It’s a cinch, I do it all the time. Come on, let me hear you say it.”
“I can’t. I turn bright red when I lie.”
Beebo released her and turned over on her stomach, laughing. “Jesus, Laur, you could turn bright green. Who’s going to see you over the phone? Do your damn radiologists have X-ray eyes?”
Laura was on her feet and heading for the phone in Beebo’s kitchen. She dialed the office, while Beebo got up and followed her to listen.
“Sarah?” Laura said.
“Laura! Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m all right. I’ll be down as fast as I can get there. I’m terribly sorry. Is Dr. Hollingsworth mad?”
“No. You know him. He’s awfully nice about these things. He did ask if you called in, though. He asked twice. Are you sick?”
She looked at Beebo, who grinned at her. “Yes, I’m sick,” she said, setting her chin.
“Well, gee, maybe you’d better not come in, then.”
“No, I’ll be all right.” She glared at Beebo, who was laughing at her red cheeks. “I’ll be in right away.” She hung up and brushed past Beebo haughtily without looking at her.
“Laura,” said Beebo, coming after her, her arms crossed over her chest. “You’re not going to work.”
Laura picked up her wrinkled clothes and said, “Do you have an iron?”
“You won’t need it.”
“I can’t go out like this.” Laura held up her rumpled dress, trying to shake it out.
“Then you just can’t go out.” Beebo stretched out on the bed and made a clucking noise at her. “Poor baby,” she said.
“Why is it you’re such an angel in bed and a bitch out of bed?” Laura snapped.
For answer, Beebo only lay on her back and laughed at her. Laura looked at her lithe body and after a moment she had to turn away to keep from lying down beside her. “I don’t even like you, Beebo,” she said harshly, hoping it would hurt. “I don’t know why I can’t keep away from you.”
“It’s because I’m such an angel in bed, Bo-peep,” Beebo said. “That’s all you care about. That’s all you want from me.”
Laura whirled and threw one of her shoes at her. “Bitch!” She exploded. The hurt had backfired. Beebo spoke the truth. And then Laura turned away to hide the surprise she always felt when the passion in her burst to the surface. In silent embarrassment she slipped into her panty girdle, burningly aware of Beebo’s amused stare while she pulled it
