“I don’t believe you,” she said.
“I’ll bet Beebo thinks you’re very pretty, too.”
“Please, Tris. Let’s not talk about Beebo.”
Tris leaned down and kissed her forehead very softly. “Now do you believe me?” she asked.
Laura stared at her, her heart suddenly pounding. “No,” she said in a whisper.
Tris kissed her cheeks, so lightly that Laura could hardly feel it “Now?” she said.
“No,” Laura breathed.
And Tris kissed her lips. Laura lay beneath her, too thrilled to move, only letting the lovely shock flow through her body and closing her eyes to feel it better. At last Tris moved away—only a breath away—and she said, “Now?”
“Tris…” she murmured and all the melody of suppressed passion sang in the name. Her hands went up to Tris’s bare arms, over the bandeau and down that silky midriff, and then they went around Tris’s waist and pulled her close and kissed her.
It was a long kiss, so leisurely, so lovely, that Laura never wanted it to end. And when it did she followed Tris, laughing, all over the bed, kissing her wherever she could reach her, feeling Tris’s fine body move beneath her hands and the fire of her own longing bursting in her bosom.
Suddenly Tris got off the bed and stood looking at Laura and trying to catch her breath. “No,” she said. “No! That’s enough! It’s late.”
Laura stared at her, amazed. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Tris, come here. Come to me. Don’t do this to me. Tris!”
But Tris pulled her off the bed with sudden strength.
“Tris, it’s only nine-thirty,” Laura said.
“Nine-thirty? Is it that late? Laura, you must excuse me.” She was transformed. All the play and warmth had gone out of her.
“But—” Laura began, but Tris interrupted sharply, “Time for you to go home to Beebo.” There was no smile on her face.
Laura looked at her incredulously a minute longer, her cheeks burning, and then she smoothed her clothes out with lowered eyes. She was too proud and too hurt to speak. She walked noiselessly to one of the mirrors, taking her purse with her, and ran a comb through her long hair.
She stared at herself—her flushed face and trembling fingers, her body so ready for love only moments ago and now weak with denial and outraged nerves. Two feet of unpinned hair hung down her back to remind her of Tris’s admiration. But it would take five minutes to get it up again properly.
Laura looked into the mirror over her own shoulder at Tris, who was standing on one foot and then the other, bent forward slightly and obviously waiting for Laura to get out of her way. What secret activities would occupy her as soon as she got rid of Laura? Her impatience was audible in her sharp breathing. Laura dared not risk her displeasure by taking the time to wind up her hair. She simply turned and walked out of the bedroom without a backward glance, without a word.
At the front door her heart jumped when Tris called after her. Laura turned to find her running lightly across the bare studio and she waited, holding her feelings in warily.
Tris stopped at the door. “I’m sorry,” she said self-consciously. “I didn’t know it was so late. I have something to do tonight, it slipped my mind.”
Laura looked at her haughtily. “Goodnight, Tris,” was all she said. When she turned to walk down the stairs Tris added, “Say hello to your bad-tempered roommate for me.”
Incensed, Laura almost ran out the door below.
Chapter Four
LAURA WALKED HOME as full of hope as of frustration and anger. Tris had treated her badly but she had treated her beautifully too. With a little start of alarm, Laura knew she was falling in love. Maybe it was worse than that already.
It was a dark soft night with no moon, only the dozens of quiet yellow streetlights. Her heels rang against the cement sidewalk as she turned down Cordelia Street and she left the world outside with regret when she opened her apartment door.
She knew Beebo would be there by now. If only she’s not drunk, she thought to herself. “Beebo?” she called aloud. She heard a little groan from the bedroom and went toward it with a sinking feeling. She couldn’t be drunk already. She’d only been home forty-five minutes. Unless she cut work again. God forbid!
Laura walked across the living room slowly, in no hurry to face the argument that would result if Beebo was full of whiskey and had been sitting there fuming because Laura was late. Beebo would have been phoning all over the neighborhood for her—a practice Laura abhorred but couldn’t break her of. She touched her long loose hair nervously, wondering what Beebo would say when she saw it.
Laura pushed open the bedroom door. The first thing she saw was Nix—Nix, lying on the floor with his belly slit open from jaws to tail. Beside him was a crimson chef’s knife. Laura recognized it from the kitchen.
She stared at him for a full ten seconds in a paralysis of horror. Then she screamed with a force she had never suspected in herself. She turned back to the wall with her hands over her face and sobbed with all her strength. And while her face was hidden she heard another groan and knew it was Beebo, and she was too terrified even to open her eyes and look.
“Beebo?” she whispered, and her voice was rough with fear. “Beebo?”
Another sickening groan, and suddenly Beebo’s voice saying confusedly, “Laura? Baby, where are you? Laura…” It faded out and Laura brought her hands away from her face quickly and looked around the room, carefully avoiding Nix. Beebo was on the bed.
Her clothes were torn—what few she still had on. Her shirt was in shreds and the jacket appeared to be ripped down the back, though she was lying on most of it and Laura couldn’t be sure. She had nothing on from the waist down and there were several
