“Yes.”
“If you were that way with her, she must have done something to deserve it. You look like a natural-born angel to me,” Beebo said, surprising them both with her frankness.
“That’s a very nice thing for a stranger to say,” Paula said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Beebo said, blanketing her sudden confusion with an offhand nod.
There was a pensive pause while Beebo tried to remember the books she had read about Lesbian love. It wasn’t always a question of sweeping girls off their feet and carrying them away to bed, as Mona had made it seem at first. How did you approach a sensitive, well-bred girl like this one? Mow her down with kisses? Certainly not.
Beebo began to wonder how to make herself welcome for the night. It seemed far better than going back to Jack’s and stewing again until dawn about her future. She would be leaving Jack and Pat alone together all night for the first time, and yet it seemed less painful now than it had before. It would suffice Beebo if she and Paula did nothing but sit and talk all night.
“I suppose somebody’s waiting for you?” Paula said.
“Nobody.”
Paula frowned at her. “Your roommate?” she asked.
“My roommate is having an affair with a man,” Beebo said and shocked Paula, until Beebo smiled at her and made her think she was kidding.
“Well…Mona?” she asked.
“Mona could be on the moon for all I know. I thought I’d find her here.”
“And now you’re disappointed,” Paula said diffidently.
“Not at all. I’m relieved.”
Paula drained her coffee cup and put it down with a nervous clink. “It must be—awkward—if your roommate is really in love with somebody else,” she said, in a voice so soft it was its own apology for speaking.
“It is,” Beebo said. “I hate to go home. I’m too long to sleep on the damn sofa.”
“I’m afraid you’re too long for mine, too,” Paula said. There was a pause. “But I could sleep on it and you could take my bed, if you will.”
It was such a completely disarming—almost quaint—invitation that Beebo smiled at her, prickling with temptation. Paula’s bashfulness was enough to make Beebo self-assured.
“At least you’re not too long for the pajamas,” Paula said.
“I can’t put you out like that,” Beebo said.
Paula was flustered. She looked at her hands. “I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s long and I’m short. We’re used to each other.”
“You and the sofa?” Beebo said, and stood up. She went to the closet and found her jacket. You can’t take somebody’s bed away just because you told a lie about sleeping on your own sofa. She pulled the jacket on and zipped it.
“You’re a sweet girl, Paula,” she said, not looking at her. “Miss Plaid Pajamas must be nuts. Find somebody who deserves you, and she’ll never make you sleep alone on the sofa.”
She started for the door but Paula, recovering suddenly, jumped up and put a restraining hand on her arm. Beebo turned around, a shiver of sharp excitement radiating through her. She was not—she was never—as sure of herself as she seemed.
“Beebo,” Paula said, whispering so that Beebo had to bend her head to hear her. “I’d like you to stay. Make yourself welcome. Please.”
Beebo was afraid to believe her ears. It had seemed almost easy, in retrospect, to storm the Colophon. She was not unaware that Mona was something of a catch, and when she went over the events of that night, she was satisfied at the way she had acted. Nobody, not Mona herself, knew how inexperienced and uncertain Beebo was, and nothing she had done gave her away. Unless it was her exuberance when Mona kissed her.
But now it seemed incredible that this exquisite stranger should reach out for her from the middle of nowhere. “Paula,” she said, “I think we’re both just lonely. I think it would be best if I go. You don’t want to wake up tomorrow and hate yourself.” She was still hedging about the ultimate test with a girl.
“I was lonely. I will be again if you go.”
“Maybe you’d be better off lonely than sorry.”
“Beebo, do I have to beg you?” Paula pleaded, her voice coming up stronger with her emotion.
Beebo reached for her in one instinctive motion, suddenly very warm inside her jacket. “No, Paula, you don’t have to beg me to do anything. Just ask me.”
“I did. And you didn’t want to stay.”
“I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t understand.”
“I thought it was Mona. She can make herself so—so tempting.”
“I can’t even remember what she looks like.”
“Aren’t you in love with her?”
Beebo’s hands, with a will of their own, closed around Paula’s warm slim arms. “I met her last week for the first time. You can’t be in love with someone you just met.”
“You can’t?” Paula demurred cautiously, looking down at her big pajamas.
“I never was,” Beebo said, feeling sweat break out on her forehead. She pulled gently on Paula and was almost dismayed when Paula moved docilely toward her. Beebo became feverishly aware that the plaid pajamas did not conceal all of Paula Ash. The sweeping curve of her breasts held the cotton top out far enough to brush Beebo’s chest with a feather touch. Beebo felt it through the layers of her clothes with a tremor so hard and real it tumbled eighteen years of daydreams out of her head.
She held Paula at arm’s length a moment, looking at this lovely little redheaded princess with a mixture of misgivings and want too powerful to pretend away. Paula took her hands and held them with quivering strength, returning Beebo’s gaze. Beebo saw her own doubts reflected in Paula’s eyes. But she saw desire there, too; desire so big that it had to be brave: it hadn’t any place to hide.
Paula kissed Beebo’s hands with a quick press of her mouth that electrified Beebo. She stood there while Paula kissed them over and over again and a passionate frenzy mounted in them both. Paula’s lips,
