"What do you think of my home," Bobbie asked, suddenly. "It is more comfortable than the sidewalk for lovemaking, no?"
A strange tingle persisted throughout Lisa's body--unnerving, yet exciting. "Let's not talk about that, Bobbie, please."
The woman smiled slowly. "You must not let a dirty man's attempt turn you against love, Lisa, my pet. There are other kinds of love... beautiful, sensual. The kind of love that only two people who are alike can understand and share."
Bobbie leaned toward her and Lisa's heart began to pound. She was about to be kissed--by another woman!
CHAPTER ONE
Lisa Garris pulled up the collar of her raincoat as she hurried through the dark, rain-slicked streets of Montreal. Weary from fighting the crowds at Expo 69, her steps automatically quickened as she approached the apartment house where she and Joyce lived. Expo was fun, and Montreal was lovely even in the rain, but she had felt ill at ease all day long. And she knew why. The familiar itch in her loins told her the reason for it. It had been a long time since she had any sexual relief.
If she could just relax her nerves and her morals, it would have been so easy. Out at the fair, men were everywhere looking at pretty girls as well as the exhibits. While she was standing in line for one of the national pavilions, someone brushed up against her from behind. She turned around, startled, and a pleasant young male face had smiled at her. Quickly she turned back, but she could still feel him pressing up behind her, using the line as an excuse to thrust the front of him against her buttocks. Even through the layers of cloth she could feel him shifting subtly so his erect sex organ rubbed against her. She'd felt embarrassed, too embarrassed to even tell anyone. She'd hissed over her shoulder at him, "Stop it, or I'll call a policeman."
But the man had just laughed, reached suddenly for her waist and pulled her closer to him, fitting the bulge in his pants tight against her rear. Lisa was too startled to protest. It was broad daylight, but no one seemed to notice, probably thinking the two of them were together. The man wiggled the front of him in a gyrating motion against her. An instant later, she could feel him throbbing with release and sighing.
He released her, said, "Thanks for the dry fuck, honey," and when she turned he was gone.
Lisa had felt very upset by the occurrence. She got out of line herself and went to the nearest restaurant to get a cup of coffee and try to calm her jangling nerves. Was there something about her that made men persecute her so, something in her face that let them know she burned with a sexual fire that couldn't be put out?
That was when she noticed the fiery itch that returned to her loins, that made her want to reach under her skirts, up under her panties, and place her fingers through the wealth of curly black pubic hair into the moist warmth and find the button that would release the passion building up inside her. But she didn't, and eventually the ache had subsided. A good night's rest, she decided, is what she needed--but even as she thought it, she knew that wasn't really what she needed.
Her high heels clicked up the brick steps, and a moment later she was in the lobby. The elevator took her slowly to the third floor, where she got off. She went down the corridor to their apartment, inserted the key quietly, and gently pushed open the door. As an afterthought, she took off her shoes and held them in her hand as she eased the door shut behind her. There was no point in waking Joyce. The blonde liked her sleep too well to take kindly to having it interrupted. Lisa was padding silently across the dark living room toward the dimly lit bedroom, when a voice stopped her.
"Oh, Hugh baby, don't stop. Screw me, baby. That's it. Ram it on home!"
It was Joyce's voice, overcome with passion.
"I ain't stopping now," a hoarse male voice promised.
Lisa paused, smiling wryly as bedsprings cried out protestingly beneath the two writhing bodies. She'd been worried about waking Joyce, but the blonde was obviously not thinking of sleep just then. The thought amused Lisa, but she felt an undercurrent of disgust. Joyce was willing to spread her legs at the drop of any male zipper. If she'd been the one at the Expo, she'd have raped the man on the spot without batting an eye.
"Oooooooh, you're so big!" Joyce squealed. "You've got the biggest cock in the world, and I want it! I want all of it stuck up inside me! That's it, baby! Ram it up me as far as you can! Give it all to me!"
The girl's voice rose to almost a shriek, and Lisa recalled Joyce saying she was the noisiest lay in town. She seemed to enjoy sex of any kind, and mixed with Lisa's disgust was a secret envy of the girl, combined with a half-belief that perhaps there was something special in the way Joyce was built that made her react so violently to a male animal pawing her. In the short time she'd known the blonde, Lisa had gotten plenty of opportunity to see the way Joyce was built. The girl, proud of her lush body, enjoyed walking around the apartment in the nude, often sprawling naked on the couch with her legs pointing in opposite directions as though to give the world the best possible view of the soft blonde down which framed her genitals. Except generally the only one looking was Lisa, who felt ill at ease at the sight of the girl so openly exposed, of the generous, ruby-tipped breasts thrusting out. She wondered if it might be envy, since her own body tended to be on the slim side.
"Oh, baby! baby! baby!" Joyce was moaning.
The words shook Lisa from her trance. She couldn't just stand there all night. She had to do something. She hesitated. Then she crept silently across the darkened living room to the open bedroom door.
"You like me to fuck you, don't you?" the man said.
"I love it," Joyce said, hysterically.
"Tell me!" the man demanded, "I like you to fuck me!" the blonde said. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
A low-wattage light glowed from the night-stand, sending feeble rays over the naked, sweat-gleaming bodies on the bed. Joyce's blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her head moving side to side, her eyes closed, her tongue snaking out to wet her ruby lips. Flat on her back, her legs spread, raised to accommodate the male body swarming over her. Lisa recognized the man as Hugh Alexander, a young engineer Joyce had met at the Exposition only a week earlier. One of his hands covered a creamy breast that quivered with excitement. His head twisted to suck the nipple of the other. And all the time his body moved in and out between the girl's legs, in and out, in and out. Lisa almost gasped aloud as she saw the man's sex organ, a huge shaft of flesh. No wonder Joyce liked him. Joyce measured her men in inches of erect penis, and Hugh Alexander was obviously one of the leaders. She felt disgust fill her at the sight of his naked, sweating, hairy body--and yet she couldn't tear herself away from the sight.
Joyce shrieked her delight. Her lips were parted, red and moist-looking, her eyes slitted with passion. Her full breasts, her stomach, her thighs quivered and shook.
Lisa shuddered, partly with disgust at what was happening, but mostly with sheer ecstasy at the view she had of Joyce's golden legs dancing in the air.
"Come on, baby!" the blonde cried out. "Make it happen! Now! I can't wait any longer!"
Hugh was only too eager to comply. His thrusts grew faster, more forceful. Joyce wrapped her slim legs around him, rising to meet each thrust. His mouth found hers, covered it. Their tongues moved in and out in rhythm. Lisa felt drops of perspiration bead her body as she stared in hypnotic fascination at the scene taking place before her hungry eyes. She wet her suddenly dry lips. She felt an ache in her breasts and she reached up and touched them, feeling the nipples grow firm and hard even under the blouse and bra. She felt her blood pound hotly through her veins and her heart race. She could hardly breathe as a stifling pleasure sought to grasp her. She couldn't help herself. She knew what she had to do. She reached down and lifted her skirt, then moved her hands along her stockinged thighs, up above the rim of nylon, under the panties, searching for the seat of her own mounting desire, finding it.
On the bed, Joyce was crying, "Oh, baby, you're good! You're so good!"
The lovers thrashed about on the bed, moving in naked unison. The man hammered his battering ram against the girl, who lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. She twisted and gyrated her hips, squeezing moans of pleasure from his lips. The tempo of their movements increased as passion took hold of them with its relentless grip.
The girl's full white breasts rose and fell in time with her labored breathing. Lisa too felt the hot tides of passion engulf her. Her body shuddered convulsively as she continued working herself to a fever pitch. And all the while, she stared at Joyce's creamy breasts with their turgid ruddy nipples swollen with passion, at the white legs dancing in the air, the firm and round buttocks twisting in sensual gyrations. She knew that none of them could last long at this rate.
Joyce was the first to go. She went crazy, rolling and twisting on the bed so that the entire bedroom seemed to shake. She shrieked, her body went rigid from head to toe. Then the man gasped loudly, his own body stiffening to meet hers. In the living room, Lisa felt her own passions reach their inevitable peak, climb over the top, and explode in a series of spasms that rocked her entire body and left her weak and trembling.
Their passion spent, the man and the blonde both collapsed in each other's arms, laughing as their mutual tensions were released by the shuddering climax.
Lisa closed her eyes and leaned weakly against the nearby wall. Sweat drenched her body, and she still trembled from the effects of the sexual release she had provoked in herself. Her hand retreated from its position, and her skirt fell back into place. It had been good, she thought happily; but not as good as if-- "Baby, you are really too much," Hugh said, laughing.
"You're quite a lot yourself, baby," Joyce told him, her voice full of admiration. "You've got it where it counts."
Lisa opened her eyes and looked up in time to see the blonde girl affectionately pat the man in the spot she admired so much. It was no longer erect and throbbing, and it lay there between his legs like a huge Italian sausage.
"I wonder what time it is," the man said. "Your roommate--"
"Lisa? She's probably still out at the fair. We've got time for one more."
Hugh laughed. "Time maybe, but suppose I can't make the grade. You take a lot out of a guy."
"I know my men, baby," Joyce told him confidently, "and you can do it." She bent over him "With my help, of course."
Joyce eased her body toward the foot of the bed, twisted her body so her head was above the man's groin. She seized his limp organ and wet her lips.
"You look good enough to eat," she said.
"As a matter of fact," he said, "so do you."
He pulled her legs up over his shoulders and buried his face between them. Joyce squealed in delight as his lips and tongue plunged into her sensitive areas. Then, as the shaft of flesh in her hands began to tremble, she pulled it to her lips. A moment later, the only sounds to come from either of them were muffled moans of pleasure.
Lisa moved away quickly, her stomach churning. The room seemed suddenly stifling. Hastily, silently, she made her way across the darkened living room, opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. Her only thought--escape.
The cool Canadian night greeted her, and she pulled her collar up again as she went down the steps of the apartment hotel. A light mist had begun to fall, so she hurried down the street, past the subway, to the coffee shop on the corner. The place was still open, so she went in and used their wall phone to call Joyce. It took a dozen rings to make Joyce answer it, and when she did she seemed out of breath.
"I--uh--hope I didn't wake you," Lisa said.
"I was just--uh--relaxing," Joyce told her.
There was a man's muffled laughter, which annoyed Lisa for some reason. She said, "I just wanted to tell you I'm still out here at the Exposition. I'm going over to La Ronde, the carnival section. I won't be home for at least another hour and a half."
"Good," Joyce said. "I mean, I'm glad you called. I was worried about you. Well, have fun."
"Sure," Lisa said. "Joyce?"
"Yes?"
Lisa hesitated. For some reason, she was reluctant to let the blonde girl go. It was probably because she knew what the girl was going to.
She said, "I wished you'd come along with me. Some of the exhibits were wonderful."
"Me too, Lisa," Joyce said, a trifle impatiently. "But I did have this awful headache. In fact, I think I'll go to bed right now."
"Okay. Good night."
When she hung up, Lisa realized she was having the start of a headache, too. She thought of staying in the coffee shop, but it was too quiet and would only depress her more. What she needed was something stronger than coffee. She remembered there were several bars on the street, so she went out into the cold again and started walking. She realized what was bothering her. Joyce had recently called her a square, and in many ways it was probably true. She really envied the blonde girl's uninhibited passion for having fun whenever and wherever she could. And Lisa began to wish fervently that she had been the one on the bed, letting herself go, releasing all the pent-up sexual tensions that had been building up inside her for so long. Then she realized something else. Even now, she still recalled vividly her feelings at the sight of Joyce's slender legs flailing the air, of her magnificent hips gyrating in the throes of passion, of the blonde's full breasts rolling from side to side, of her rich red mouth moist with yearning. And Lisa knew that she had wanted to be naked on the bed--no? with Hugh, but with Joyce-making beautiful passionate unrestrained love to every part of the girl's lush, throbbing female body. She wanted to suck on the blonde's nipples until they grew stiff in her mouth. She wanted to put her head, her mouth, her lips where Hugh's had been, tasting the sweet nectar of her roommate. And, she wanted Joyce to shriek with delight and twist around on the bed and do the same thing with her.
CHAPTER TWO
Lisa hurried through the misty night, her thoughts in turmoil. It was close to midnight. Few cars passed her, and no pedestrians seemed to be out in that area. Ahead of her, several blocks away, the lights of the downtown area glittered, seeming brighter as they reflected their multicolored neon in the glistening streets. She recalled vaguely there was an English-type pub she'd once passed. She came upon it suddenly, set down from the sidewalk. It was called THE COCK'N'BULL, and sounds of music and laughter filtered through its closed front door. She went down the steps leading to it and went inside.
The place was crowded and warm. From somewhere in the rear of the place a man was hammering out melodies on an ancient piano, while men and women raised their tankards of ale and their voices in song. It was a warm, cheerful place, but suddenly Lisa knew it wouldn't do. A young curly-blond-haired fellow at the bar near the door made a motion with his head and invited her in out of the cold. But she merely shook her head no, and retreated. She had to go to some quiet place where she could think.
She found it on a side street. It was a dim, dingy bar, and if it had a name, she didn't know what it was, and she didn't care. There were probably better and cleaner places, but they would be more crowded and noisier. Just at that point, Lisa didn't want any company. She wanted to warm her insides with a few drinks, and numb her brain to the scene she'd witnessed in the apartment between Joyce and the engineer. She still had an hour to kill before starting back. Maybe even that wasn't enough to satisfy her nymphomaniacal roommate, but it would have to do. She climbed up on a bar stool and when the bartender appeared she ordered a scotch and soda. She checked the money in her purse and discovered she had only about five dollars left. Damn! Fortunately much of Expo 69 was free, but she'd still had to eat out there and take the monorail around when her aching feet gave out. She should have taken some more with her when she was at the apartment. Except she had her rapidly dwindling resources hidden in the bedroom--which was very busy at the time.
Well, that would give her five drinks anyway, which would probably be more than she could stand. When the scotch arrived, she gulped it down, letting the alcohol seep through her insides, warming them. In a moment, she could hardly tell the difference between the warmth produced by the alcohol and the warmth that was still tingling her loins in the aftermath of her spent passion. It was a good feeling, so she ordered another drink, but this time sipped it slowly. Her eyes were now accustomed to the dimness, and she looked around. It was apparently a neighborhood-type bar which held no interest for tourists. Men and women sat at the bar or huddled in dark booths. In back of the bar a radio was playing. She caught phrases of intermingled French and English from all around. She felt a prickly feeling, and looked up to see a fat male face smiling in her direction from the opposite end of the bar. The man nodded to her, but Lisa merely looked away. She gulped the remainder of her drink and pushed the glass forward on the bar. "I'd like another one of these," she said.
By the time he'd brought it to her, the second drink had exploded inside her, sending warmth and numbness to every part of her body and brain. She began to feel very light-headed and knew she'd just about had her quota of booze for that night. One thing she was grateful for; her loins were finally calming down from the excited state they'd been left in back at the apartment. It generally worked. Whenever she started feeling sexy and didn't want to masturbate, she'd just take a few drinks to numb the sensations. Of course, Joyce had a much more direct solution for her own problem. Whenever she was in the mood--which seemed to be all the time--she'd just grab the nearest male and take him to bed with her. Lisa felt renewed disgust flood her at the thought. She didn't care if a man ever touched her again. They were just animals, thinking of their own lust, not caring about a woman as a human being. No, it was better to be an alcoholic than a nymphomaniac.
She took another healthy gulp of her drink. When her eyes came up again, she found herself staring at her own image in the mirror directly behind the bar. For a moment, it was as though she were looking at a stranger. She was only twenty-six-years old, and her figure was just as full and firm and alluring as it had been when she was eighteen. All the men who'd tried to proposition, seduce or rape her would agree that she was a most attractive girl--even her stepfather who had succeeded one night during a fit of drunken passion.
* * *
Once, in her home town in upstate New York, she had been filled with hope and ambition. She had a good singing voice, she'd taken dancing lessons, she could fill out a stage costume the way it was supposed to be filled. Why not give Hollywood or the Broadway stage a try. Besides, she wanted desperately to leave home. New York, being closer, got the first--and only--crack at her. She arrived with very little money which soon dwindled to nothing. She took a part-time job so she could see agents and producers the other part of the day. But expenses were too great. She got a full-time job and took an apartment with Joyce, whom she'd met one day in a Times Square snack bar. Finally, she resigned herself to the inevitable. There were too-many other girls who were prettier, more talented, and willing to sleep with anybody to get ahead in show business. In desperation, Lisa herself had tried it. She hadn't enjoyed the frantic, sloppy pawings, and the producer--if he was one--never bothered calling her. She settled down into a rut so deep and long that sometimes she cried herself to sleep.
One day Joyce announced she was going to Montreal. "How about coming along, Lisa. It's a real swinging town, especially with Expo 69."
Lisa knew what Joyce meant by "swinging," for the blonde's nymphomaniacal tendencies would be difficult to hide if she'd tried--which she didn't. Lisa had enough money for the air fare and a month's stay. She was frankly tempted. New York represented failure to her, and she was rapidly growing to resent it. She wouldn't be able to get a vacation or a leave of absence from her clerk-typist job, of course--but it wasn't that good of a job to worry about. She might even find employment up in Canada if she could get a work permit. More importantly, it would be a change which she needed very badly. It might even be fun.
And it was. Montreal was a beautiful city, like New York with its glistening buildings in many ways, but lacking the crowdedness. She enjoyed taking the bus up to Mount Royal lookout, where she could see the entire panorama of the city below, with its uncluttered skyline etched against the background of the St. Lawrence River and the blue sky. She loved to stroll through the downtown area, with its combination of gleaming-new buildings such as the Royal Bank Building in the area around St. Catherine and Peel Streets, mixed with old-style architecture as the City Hall, the Mary Queen of the World Basilica, interrupted by green oases of parks such as Dominion Square where she could sit, pretending to be a native, and watch the tourists.
* * *
She smiled at the face in the mirror, and the face in the mirror smiled back at her. It was a pretty face, framed by dark hair, with a nice nose, and full, generous lips. It was a face that longed for love and understanding. Montreal had been fun during the past several weeks. But it had been lonely, too.
She tossed off the remaining drops of liquid in her glass, then inspected her purse, in case she'd been mistaken about the amount of money she had with her. She hadn't. But at least there was enough for one more. One for the road, as the lesser poets put it. "Another scotch and soda, bartender," she said.
That's what she intended to say, but that's not precisely the way it came out. Her voice was slurry, and when the bartender came over he was unclear and indistinct. She'd had her warning long ago, she knew. She should have quit with the last drink, packed up her belongings and gone back to the apartment while she could still navigate. The incandescence in her loins had gone, replaced by a warm glow that had spread throughout her body, warming every nook and cranny. What harm could one more do, anyway? She wanted to just go home and pass out. Maybe then she wouldn't think about what Joyce and her boyfriend had been doing on the bed together. She made a face as she thought of it. Joyce was really nothing but a slut. No matter how lonely she felt, Lisa knew she'd never do that. She'd rather go to bed alone than have some male animal in heat putting his rough hands all over her body, squeezing her breasts, pulling apart her thighs, invading her with his lustful male body, grunting a couple of times--and then forgetting her.
"Can I buy you a drink, honey?" a syrupy voice said, beside her.
She twisted her head to see who it was. The fat face that had smiled at her was closer now, still smiling. But his eyes weren't on her face at all. He was letting his gaze roam over her breasts, over the legs revealed in their creamy smoothness by her dress which had hiked up above her knees. Lisa felt revulsion fill her. "No," she told him. "Go away."
He didn't go away. He got onto the stool beside her. "You needn't play games with me, honey," he said confidently. "At least," he added with a chuckle, "until we get up to my room. It's just a few blocks from here. You like scotch. Good. I got a bottle of the stuff up there. You and me can have ourselves a ball." He winked obscenely at her. "Maybe a couple of them."
His hand slid onto her leg and swiftly glided up under her skirt along her stockings to the bare thigh. Lisa squirmed on the barstool and pushed his hand away.
"No, dammit!" she said between clenched teeth. "Now, leave me alone."
She glanced up to see if the bartender would help her, but he was way down at the other end of the bar.
"Look, honey," the man said in a low voice. "You don't have to put on the coy act with me. Only one reason a luscious chick like you comes into a bar like this--to pick up a little piece of male red meat and maybe earn herself a couple of fast bucks and have fun at the same time."
Lisa shook her head. She wished fervently she hadn't drunk so much. She was beginning to feel dizzy. The smell of the man's foul breath made her stomach churn. "That's not true," she insisted. "Please believe me, I just came in here for a drink, that's all."
His hand touched her leg again for a moment, then retreated. He stared at her, then his lips twisted. "Oh no. Don't tell me. Maybe you'd like it better if I was another girl on the make?"
She stared back at him, not comprehending.
He spelled it out for her. "A lesbian. A queer. A gay girl. Is that what you're trying to tell me, baby, that you're hot for girls instead of boys?"
"No," Lisa protested, "I-"
"Oh, I've seen your kind before, honey, in some of the topless bars. They just sit and drool at the dancers just like a man would."
"That's not true," Lisa insisted. It annoyed her that she was bothering to explain anything at all to this stranger.
He leaned toward her again and put his hand up under her dress, sliding it right up to the panties. He said, "Well, you've got a swell chance to prove it, honey."
His fingers grew insistent. They pushed aside the elastic rim and wriggled their way into her crotch.
"Dammit! I said leave me alone!"
Lisa reached out with both her hands and pushed the man's chest as hard as she could. A look of panic crossed the man's face. He yanked his hand from under her dress. Both his arms flailed the air in an effort to steady the precariously balanced barstool. His fingers reached out for the edge of the bar, found it, and pulled himself back.
"You crazy little bitch!" he spat. "I could've been hurt if I fell off."
"Too bad you weren't!" she told him venomously. God damn men! They couldn't keep their hands to themselves.
"Hey, miss, keep down your voice." The bartender was hovering over her, a stern look of disapproval on his face. "Remember there are other customers in the place."
"Me?" Lisa said indignantly, spluttering, "But-"
"Don't worry, Harry," the fat man said. "I'm going to show this crazy girl what a real man is like. She's probably never been this close to one before."
Before she could evade him, the man had pulled her close to him and mashed his thick lips wetly against hers. He smelled of beer and sweat, and the odor and taste of him nauseated her. She hammered at him until he released her, and then she picked up the full glass of scotch and soda and threw it at him.
He swore and spluttered as the liquid ran off his heavy face. He raised his hand in the air to strike her, then hesitated as a light came into his eyes. He lowered the hand and smiled.
"You've been a bad little girl, honey," he told her in silky tones. "You know what happens to bad little girls. They get their cute little bottoms spanked, that's what."
Lisa twisted about on the stool as panic filled her. She knew that all the men in the bar would share the fat man's belief that she'd come in there just for a pickup. They would have no sympathy for her. She had to get out of there-- and fast. Hastily she slid from the stool. Her skirt hiked up above her thighs; she pushed it down, but not before the man's eyes had lit with renewed determination. She wished fervently she hadn't had so much to drink. She could hardly stand up, because her legs felt weak.
The fat man laughed and caught her by the wrist, spun her around. Before she could resist, he'd pulled her off balance and across his lap. With a quick motion, he lifted her skirt way up above her back and pulled her panties down around her knees.
"Stop it! Stop it!" she cried, tears of humiliation stinging her eyes.
His flabby hand appreciatively kneaded the rounded portion of her buttocks for a moment, then raised and descended on the soft mounds. She cried out in pain and surprise at the sharp blow, and her legs shot out straight behind her. She heard embarrassed laughter, and looked up to see the other men in the bar crowding around to get a better view of her naked behind. The fat man's hand rose and fell two more times before the bartender said, "Okay, that's enough. Let the little lady up."
"Oh, come on, Harry," the fat man said, disappointment in his voice. "I was just teaching this little tease a lesson. She's nothing but a damned queer anyway."
"I said that's enough," Harry insisted. "I don't want to have any trouble with the police."
With obvious reluctance, the fat man released Lisa, who scrambled to her feet and adjusted her clothing. "Well, you're going to have trouble with the police, mister--just as soon as I tell them what happened."
The bartender sighed tolerantly. "That wouldn't be wise of you, young lady. Because if the police questioned me about it I'd have to tell them how you came in here and propositioned my customers. You might be the one who's in trouble."
"But--but I didn't," Lisa protested. "I just came in here for a few drinks, and this man kept bothering me--" The bartender shook his head. "I'm afraid we've got quite a few witnesses right here, miss, that would bear out my story and not yours."
Lisa stared at the array of grinning male faces, and she knew he was right. They had all enjoyed the sight of her naked buttocks and her legs kicking out in the air. They'd lie about what happened.
"The best thing you can do," the bartender advised, "is go home and have a good night's sleep. After all, no harm was done."
Lisa didn't answer. There was no point in it. She just turned and walked out not bothering to pay for her drinks. Why should she? The cool night air enveloped her, but she was so warm inside from the alcohol she didn't mind. Nevertheless, she found herself trembling--not with cold, but with the humiliation of knowing what had happened. Her buttocks were still partly numb from the stinging blows the fat man had rained on her, but what really hurt was the knowledge that a strange man had exposed her bare bottom before the lustful leers of a half dozen other strange men and spanked her. And he'd called her a lesbian--just because she'd refused to go to bed with him. Well, she'd rather be queer than have sex with an ugly, sweating fat slob of a male animal like him!
She proceeded unsteadily down the street. The cool air hadn't awakened her as much as she'd hoped, and it was fortunate that the apartment wasn't too far away, just a couple of blocks down the street here and around the corner past the deserted subway and it would be in sight. Trouble was, there didn't seem to be a soul on the street in this area. She walked slowly past the closed stores with their brightly lighted windows, and then after a block these grew scarce, replaced by the shabby, unlit fronts of houses and shops. The street was very quiet, the silence broken only by the soft whisper of a slight wind and the click of her high heels against the pavement. Then she detected a sound behind her.
She paused, suddenly apprehensive, and listened. Male footsteps, coming closer. She didn't look back. She started to walk again, faster, and she heard the person behind her increase his pace. She hurried, finally breaking into a stumbling run as she neared the empty subway entrance. She felt him close behind her, and she stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. Hands pulled her to her knees, and she looked into the grinning fat face of the man at the bar.
"You didn't think I'd be satisfied with a fast feel, did you, honey," he said. "You've got a sweet little ass on you there, and I'm going to get a piece of it!"
"Leave me alone!" Lisa cried. "Please!"
"Sure I will, honey," he promised, "but first I'm going to screw you like you never been screwed before."
"No! No!"
He laughed and pulled her roughly to her feet. Holding tightly to her wrists, he pulled her into the shadows of the subway entrance.
"I've never had a lesbian before," he said. "Tell me, how do they do it--with their tongues up your snatch? Or do they strap on one of those dildos?"
"I don't know-"
"Well, I've got the real thing here, honey. It's not made of rubber. Maybe after tonight you'll want men again. I'll be doing you a good turn."
Exhausted from running and weak from alcohol, Lisa was too helpless to resist as he fumbled open the front of her coat and blouse and reached fat hands into her cleavage. His fingers closed over the front of her bra and pulled. The material parted, and she winced as pain shot through her. Immediately his hands dipped into the opening, where he fondled her breasts with obvious delight.
"Not a bad pair of tits," he mused. He reached down to unzip his pants. "Now just relax and enjoy it, honey. I might even give you a couple of bucks afterward if you let me stick it up you without any trouble."
He pulled her close to him, mashing his flabby lips against her mouth, his hands pulling up her skirt. She felt cold air against her bare flesh, and then his throbbing sex organ pressing against her thighs. She felt it slither up along the inside of her leg toward her crotch. His hands were under her skirt, on her buttocks, pulling her closer to him and at the same time, pushing aside the cloth of her panties to expose her sex organ. She winced as his fingers parted the material and then moved into the moist, hairy opening between her legs, spreading the outer lips, probing. Panic was like a live thing screaming inside her, squeezing her brain numb. She had to get away. She had to. Desperately, she wrenched away, then brought her foot up with all the strength she could muster straight into his exposed groin.
The fat man yelped and fell to his knees, clutching himself. Lisa turned and ran. She felt the cold air against her still-naked, joggling breasts, but she didn't bother to cover herself. She heard his voice behind her. "You rotten slut! You could have ruined me. When I get you this time I'll kill you!"
She ran up the street blindly, then paused as she saw where her feet were taking her. Not in the direction of her apartment. Not in the direction of the bright lights. Ahead of her lay a street that looked more dark and deserted than the one she'd just left. But there was no turning back. He was right behind her, still shouting obscenities at her. She ran, forcing herself on. Her legs were like lead. She had trouble breathing. Her heart was pounding at an unaccustomed tempo. But she forced herself on up the dark street. The man behind her was drunk. He wanted to molest her sexually, and he was determined that nothing would stand in his way. And now, he also wanted revenge. Lisa knew that if he caught her, he'd beat her first to get even, and when she was submissive enough, he would rape her. The thought made her go faster, but her steps wavered, and she knew she wouldn't make it. She slowed almost to a crawl. Her legs just wouldn't cooperate any more. Finally, she sank to the cold pavement, sobbing her frustration. She heard his footsteps directly behind her, his panting breath from the exertion.
"All right, honey," he said slowly, "this time you're really going to get it--and it'll be an experience you won't soon forget!" He grinned humorlessly and added, "That is, if you live through it!"
CHAPTER THREE
Lisa knew she should be frightened. Tired from the exertion of running, her brain numbed by the alcohol she'd consumed, she was helpless. The fat man could do anything he wanted to her, and she knew she would be incapable of resisting. She rose to a sitting position on the damp pavement and looked up. He was licking his lips in anticipation, and his male organ still protruded through the opening in the front of his trousers; it looked grotesque, disgusting, and even frightening. Yet a calmness stole over her as she realized this was inevitable. It was the natural way of men. They were all beasts when it came to sex, taking their pleasure and not caring who they hurt in the process.
His hands reached out for her. "Relax, baby," he said. "You might find that you'll enjoy it."
Then he straightened in sudden alarm as bright lights splashed over him. He drew back, shielding his eyes with an arm. There was a screech of tires on the slick pavement. The fat man's face grew white. He cursed and ran down the dark street. In a moment, his footsteps were lost to silence. A car door opened, and a woman's voice asked, "Allezvous bien, mademoiselle?"
"What?" Lisa asked, puzzled.
"Ah," the woman said, understanding. "You are American. I asked you if you were all right."
Lisa nodded. "But if you hadn't come along just now--" She shivered and left the remainder of her statement unfinished.
"Yes, I saw what was happening. The filthy pig! But come, let us get you off the damp pavement and into my car."
Lisa struggled to get to her feet. The woman put her arms around her to help, and Lisa was surprised at the power they contained. She tried to focus her eyes on the pretty female face so close to her own but couldn't seem to manage it. Then she found herself being shifted gently into the front passenger's seat of an automobile. The door was closed, and she leaned against it, closed her eyes, let the warmth flow over her--and realized that she had had an extremely narrow escape. Lisa knew she should thank her rescuer more properly, but a great tiredness stole over her, and she could hardly keep her eyes open. As they drove along, she was dimly aware of the hypnotic hum of tires on the road, and filled with weariness that refused to be denied, she dozed. She had no idea how long they'd been driving, but suddenly she was aware the car had stopped. She opened her eyes to find them parked in a driveway beside a house.
"Perhaps," the woman driver suggested, "you'd better cover up a bit more. I would not want you to catch a chest cold."
Lisa looked down at herself, surprised to discover that her blouse was ripped open and her breasts were hanging out. She pulled the material around, but the buttons were missing, so she had to hold it in place with her hand.
"And," the woman continued with a smile, "you have too marvelous a bosom to have that happen."
Lisa returned the smile. "Thank you," she said.
It seemed strange that a woman should compliment her about her breasts, especially a stranger. But then the woman who had rescued her didn't seem like any ordinary woman. She would certainly stand out in any crowd. She had short-cropped hair arranged in wild patterns about her head. Her face was thin and sensuous, attractive in its angularity. She wore a tweed suit with a short skirt, and leather boots that reached almost to her knees.
"Come along," the woman said. "Let's get you inside where it is warm."
She got out, went over to Lisa's side of the car to help her out. Lisa felt much better now, but she allowed the woman to hold onto her arm and guide her up the sidewalk. The house was a one-story affair, very expensive looking. The woman took a key from her pocket and opened the door. A moment later Lisa was sitting on the zebra-striped living room couch, impressed by the luxury of the place, while her hostess knelt by the stone fireplace and proceeded to set the logs on fire. Lisa had never been in a home quite as elegantly furnished as this, and the sight of it overwhelmed her. The carpeting was plush and incredibly thick. Huge paintings hung on the walls. Drapes covered one wall. Statues stood in corners. The fire in the fireplace started crackling. The woman straightened and smiled. "Are you feeling better now?"
Lisa nodded. "Much, thanks to you. This is a lovely place you have here. It must have cost a fortune."
"Yes, but then I am a successful artist, and I live alone--most of the time--so I can afford it. After all, that is what money is for, isn't it--to have a good time." It was a statement, not a question. "My name, by the way," the woman said, "is Roberta Posner. My friends--and I hope you are now one of them--call me Bobbie."
"And I'm Lisa Garris."
"I am delighted to meet you, Lisa," Bobbie said warmly, "although I wish it had been under more fortunate circumstances."
Lisa shivered. "It was a horrible experience."
"We can notify the police," Bobbie suggested.
"No," Lisa said. She remembered what the bartender had told her, about having witnesses claim she was the instigator of the incident. "I just want to forget about what happened."
"Ah well," Bobbie decided, "no harm was done."
"Thanks to you," Lisa said gratefully.
"At least it enabled me to meet you. You are a very attractive girl, Lisa. Are you a model?"
Lisa shook her head. "No. I'm really not anything. I'm looking for a job here in Montreal."
"How wonderful!" Bobbie enthused. "I may hire you to pose for me. But we can talk about that later. First, we had better get you out of those damp clothes. You can take a nice hot bath, and afterward we will have some brandy and coffee to warm you up."
Lisa hesitated. "I suppose I should go home."
"Home? Where is home?"
"I share an apartment with a girl--" She paused, remembering that a man was now sharing her apartment with Joyce. She was going to say that her roommate would be worried about her, but she realized that the blonde would not even think of her as long as a man was with her. Joyce would just as soon she stayed away all night, so she wouldn't have to stop her lovemaking.
"Well," Bobbie Posner decided, "I'm sure a big girl like you is able to stay out all night without your roommate's permission."
"It's not that--" Lisa said, then her eyes widened. "All night? But I couldn't impose--"
"Nonsense," the woman insisted. "It's getting very late. I have plenty of room here in this big house, and I won't take no for an answer. You'll feel so much better after a good night's rest."
"Well-"
"Besides, you wouldn't want your roommate to know you had been attacked in the streets. You'll look so much better in the morning."
Lisa knew the woman was right. A nice hot bath would do her a world of good. Her body seemed to ache all over from her exertions and the manhandling she'd received, and she felt very tired and still a bit unsteady from all the alcohol she'd drunk.
"All right," she said.
"C'est bien! Oh, I am sorry. I forgot you do not speak French. Come. I will help you."
Bobbie helped Lisa to her feet and then placed an arm around her waist. She really wasn't that weak, Lisa told herself, but the woman seemed so anxious to help that she didn't protest. They went across the living room, down a corridor, into a bedroom. The bedroom was also furnished quite lavishly, with thick carpeting, a wall of gold-veined mirrors, expensive drapes, and a large bed dominating one corner.
Bobbie eased Lisa to the bed and then unhesitatingly eased the blouse from her shoulders, gasping as the younger girl's breasts came into sight.
"Magnifique!" she purred. "Forgive me, my dear, but I am an artist, and I truly appreciate perfection of form in any human, even another woman. You have lovely breasts. Lovely."
"Thanks," Lisa said, not knowing what else to say.
Bobbie's hands moved over the breasts, touching and caressing them, then lifting them both in her palms. She nodded. "Full and firm, just enough for your figure."
Lisa felt her heart beating faster, and she was embarrassed that her nipples were getting obviously hard and standing up. She was beginning to feel warm and queasy inside, the way she'd felt on those few brief occasions in her past when a man had touched her naked body.
The hands left her, and Bobbie ordered, "Please stand up."
She stood, and the other woman unzipped her skirt and pulled it down.
"Ah, ma chere," Bobbie said sympathetically, "you have a bruise where you fell down on the pavement."
Bobbie's expert fingers quickly unsnapped Lisa's garter belt and threw it on the bed. Then she rolled down the stockings which were full of runs now. All that was left were the panties which she worked down over Lisa's hips and legs. Bobbie stood back and gazed in open admiration at every part of Lisa's body. She wet her lips and said, "I told you before you have lovely breasts. Now I see that you have lovely everything."
Lisa felt the color rising to her cheeks. She had never been inspected so thoroughly before. She had to remind herself that Bobbie Posner was looking at her as an artist would.
"Has anyone ever told you how lovely you are?" Bobbie asked.
"A few men," Lisa remembered, then frowned. "But all they wanted was for me to go to bed with them."
Bobbie sighed. "I cannot blame them for that."
"Well, I can!" Suddenly, Lisa felt angry. "They're like animals, all of them. Every man I've known has thought only of himself. He didn't give a damn about me or how I felt."
Bobbie nodded agreement. "You are so right, my dear." She pulled Lisa close to her for comfort and kissed her warmly on the cheek.
Lisa couldn't understand this strange feeling that was seeping through her. For some reason, she didn't mind being totally naked in front of this woman she'd known for only an hour. But it was the physical sensations that bothered her. Her skin began to tingle, and she shivered.
"Ah, ma petite," Bobbie said suddenly, "you are cold. Come, let us bathe you, and afterward we will have some cognac and relax."
She led the way across the bedroom into a large, adjoining bath, luxuriously tiled, with more gold-veined mirrors on all the walls. Bobbie turned a gold-colored faucet to run hot water into the tub, and when it was full, Lisa stepped in and let the wet warmth cover her aching body.
She closed her eyes and murmured, "Mmmm, it feels good."
Bobbie smiled. "Just relax. I know something else that will make you feel good, too."
Lisa was beginning to think that this strange woman knew a lot of things that would make her relax, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on that. She was enjoying the physical sensations too much, and the knowledge that some one was being very nice to her and interested in her comfort and well-being. She didn't protest as Bobbie rubbed soap all over her own hands, working up a lather, which she then applied to the top of Lisa's body. Her soap-covered hands massaged Lisa's neck and shoulders, moving down along the arms, into the armpits, then over the breasts, the slim fingers grazing the nipples and making them stand out even more. Bobbie shook her head. "I seem to be getting all wet. Do you--" She wet her lips and gazed at Lisa's glistening body. "Do you suppose the two of us could fit into the tub?"
Lisa giggled. She'd never taken a bath with another girl before, and she found the idea amusing. The tub certainly was big enough for two. Besides, she was much too relaxed to argue about anything.
"Why not?" she said.
But Bobbie was already taking off her clothing. A moment later she was completely nude. Her body was slim and well-shaped, with small breasts. Her body didn't reveal her age, as her face didn't, although Lisa figured her for the midthirties. She stepped into the tub and slid into the water, which rose to within a few inches of the top.
"Now, my pet," she said with a smile, "we can soap each other."
Lisa took the bar of soap the woman handed to her, then proceeded to work up a lather. Bobbie sat facing her, scrunching up close so that her legs straddled Lisa's. Then the two began to rub their hands all over each other in a very determined fashion. Lisa noticed that as her own hands passed over Bobbie's slim breasts, the nipples reacted in the same way hers were, standing up straight and firm. The two women stood up so they could soap themselves elsewhere. Lisa was a bit apprehensive at first about the intimacy, but Bobbie was so enthusiastic about it, the younger girl soon lost her feelings of ill ease. In fact, it grew to be quite pleasure-able as Bobbie's hands kneaded her buttocks, moved down the insides of her thighs and up between her legs. Lisa began to react once more. For a moment she could hardly breathe as the other woman's fingers touched and rubbed her so intimately. Her breasts were beginning to ache from the caress, and she felt a moist warmth flow through her loins. It seemed strange to her that she should be doing this, but it seemed even stranger that she was regarding it as something perfectly natural. They ducked back into the tub to rinse the soap from their bodies, then rose and stepped out. With a pair of towels, they completed the operation by drying each other briskly so that their skins glowed.
* * *
In the bedroom, a moment later, Bobbie gave Lisa a robe from her closet. "You look even better now," the artist told her, "and I did not think that was possible."
"You're very nice, Bobbie," Lisa told her, "and I really appreciate all you've done for me. I just wish there were some way I could repay you."
Bobbie smiled warmly. "We might find a way.
You might even pose for me, as I suggested. But right now, let us sit before the fire and have a liqueur as a nightcap."
"All right," Lisa told her.
She wasn't sure she should, after all the drinks she'd had earlier, but she just couldn't seem to refuse Bobbie. They went into the living room. Lisa sat on the zebra-striped couch, while Bobbie went to the bar.
"Anything in particular you'd like?" she called. "Grand Marnier? Drambuie? Galliano?"
"I'm afraid I'm not very knowledgeable about drinks," Lisa confessed. "Whatever you're having."
Bobbie poured an amber liquid into two tiny glasses and returned to the couch. Lisa took the glass offered her and sipped it.
"It's good!" she said.
Bobbie laughed and impulsively hugged her. "You're a very charming and naive young girl, my pet. But don't worry. I shall teach you everything I know."
Lisa's face clouded, and she sipped her drink silently for a moment. "I'm afraid you're right about one thing, Bobbie. I am naive. I haven't had much experience--with men, with the world in general." She looked up. "Why are you doing this, Bobbie. I mean, taking a total stranger into your home, being so nice to me, even--" she laughed--"taking a bath with me."
Bobbie's hand reached out and took Lisa's. Her grip was firm and warm. "Because I genuinely, sincerely like you, Lisa. I am--well, you might call me a man hater. I was sorry for you that you had to suffer at the hands of that male beast who wanted to do horrible sexual things to you. I wanted to make it up to you somehow, to show you that there is kindness in the world."
"You have," Lisa said gratefully, squeezing the other woman's hand.
"And then," Bobbie went on, "I looked deeper, and I found many things to admire besides your beauty."
Lisa smiled self-consciously. "You keep saying that, but I know I'm not beautiful."
"To me you are," Bobbie said sincerely. She hesitated. "I would like us to become good friends, Lisa. Very good friends."
"I'd like that, too, Bobbie."
"Tres bien!" Bobbie leaped to her feet. "And now you must go to bed. We are both about the same size. Tomorrow you may borrow some of my clothes to wear."
Lisa followed her into the bedroom, admiring the way the girl seemed so enthusiastic about everything. "I could sleep on the couch. I don't want to put you out."
Bobbie turned down the covers on the big bed. "With all this room? Come on now, slip inside. I don't want you to catch cold."
Lisa hesitated. "Do you have any pajamas I could use.
Bobbie shook her head. "I never wear pajamas, my pet, and neither do my guests. Don't worry, you will be quite comfortable."
Lisa shrugged and took off the robe, which she placed over a chair, then quickly slipped into bed under the covers. The mattress was thick and very comfortable, the sheets light and silky. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of them. The warm bath had made her sleepier than she'd realized, and the liqueur was sending a pleasant glow throughout her body. She heard the click of a light switch, and a moment later felt the weight of a woman's body easing into bed beside her.
"Comfortable?" Bobbie asked.
Lisa murmured a drowsy yes.
"I will help warm you, my pet," the other woman said.
Bobbie's naked body nestled close. Their breasts, thighs and legs touched intimately. Bobbie's moist lips brushed Lisa's cheek. Her hand circled Lisa's waist, then moved lower to softly caress the girl's buttocks. Then it went around in front and glided upward along the inside of her suddenly trembling thighs. Lisa found herself filled with mixed emotions. She was aware that Bobbie's searching, probing fingers were caressing her in the way a man's might, as a prelude to sexual intercourse, except the girl's touch was more gentle. She felt warm and sleepy and pleasantly intoxicated, and she decided not to ask any questions of herself but to merely enjoy the sensations she was feeling. In a sense, Bobbie had picked her up--as a man might--and she had taken her to her apartment, given her a bath, plied her with a drink and put her to bed--also the way a man might, if he were interested in having an affair with her. But it wasn't the same with Bobbie because Bobbie was another girl. In a way, it was as though she were caressing herself down there. And yet the feelings were more intense than that. She supposed it was the warmth of another body in intimate contact with hers, the feel of warm breasts, equally warm thighs and loins pressing against her. She didn't even mind when Bobbie's other hand started to fondle her breasts, rolling the rapidly stiffening nipple between her fingers. A moment later, her lips left Lisa's cheek and moved down along her throat, kissing gently all the way, continuing along the swell of her breasts, then trailing wet kisses up one creamy slope to the nipple. Lisa tensed expectantly.
"Relax, my pet," Bobbie murmured.
Instead, Lisa stiffened her entire body with passion as the other girl's tongue reached out and licked the nipple of one of her breasts. She arched her body so that the breast would rise higher, and Bobbie took the cue by letting her mouth descend and engulf the turgid tip with her wet lips. Lisa was surprised at her reactions to all this, but she didn't bother to analyze it just then. She knew she should resist this woman she hardly knew, but the sensations of the woman's kisses, her touches, the feel of her warm thighs and breasts--these were too strong to be denied. It was ironic, she thought wistfully, that the fat man at the bar had called her a lesbian and she'd gotten angry with him. Now, here she was, a few hours later, responding to the caresses of another woman. She felt no remorse, no guilt. Bobbie Posner was so kind, so gentle, so understanding that their affection seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
The woman lifted her head. "I will make love to you, my darling, the way only another woman can."
She shifted her position on the bed, pressing the full length of her body against Lisa's. She covered the girl's mouth with her own, let her hot tongue dart into the other girl's mouth. Their legs intertwined, and she began to gyrate her hips slowly, moving her loins alternately in and out in a passionate tempo that started slowly and gradually increased. Lisa could feel Bobbie's wiry patch of black pubic hair moving sensuously against her own mound. There was something strangely sexy about it all. But just then she had no desire to analyze it. All she knew were the delicious fiery sensations that started pouring through every fiber of her straining body. Bobbie's lips broke free, and she moaned passionate words of longing and fulfillment in her native French. Then her mouth returned to Lisa's face, to her lips, where she darted her tongue deep into Lisa's mouth, then kissed her cheek, her nose, her ears, to her pulsing throat. The lesbian's hot lips moved along Lisa's shoulders, down across the slope of one breast. Then her mouth took a nipple and sucked on it, but not content, moved on downward, across the girl's belly. Lisa gasped as she felt Bobbie's finger move between her legs into the moist, warm area where she was now so excited she couldn't hold herself still. The finger worked expertly at her, parting the folds, seeking the clitoris which was already enlarging with passion. The younger girl almost screamed her pleasure as the questing finger found what it sought. And then Bobbie's lips moved swiftly toward their target. The woman twisted on the bed, spread Lisa's legs quickly, and darted her head in between them. Her mouth descended expertly just where it was supposed to, and her tongue flicked out to continue the work the finger had started.
Lisa gasped spasmodically as a tidal wave of passion engulfed her, overwhelmed her. Bobbie's mouth was sucking on the most intimate part of her, and the woman's tongue was darting all over the knobby tissue that she herself liked to rub when masturbating. It could end only one way. Lisa's body responded, twisting and turning beneath the sudden upsurge of ecstasy that shook her from head to toe. The spasms started, rippled throughout her body. Her legs shook and trembled. And still Bobbie kept on with the delicious movements of her mouth, lips and tongue, until the body contortions of the young girl had spasmed into fulfillment and she lay back, exhausted, happy, all tension melted from her.
"I never knew sex could be so lovely," Lisa said, when she found her breath.
"It is only part of the wonders that lay ahead for you, my pet," Bobbie promised softly. Bobbie twisted her body around and held Lisa close, so that their breasts touched. "I shall teach you everything I know about the love of one woman for another."
Lisa closed her eyes and lay back, secure in the warmth of the body that lay close to hers. It was a good feeling to know that someone cared enough to want you to have a climax, without thinking of herself getting theirs first. Even now, the other woman was gently nibbling at one of Lisa's nipples, while her finger returned between her legs to caress her with soft, reassuring strokes. As drowsiness overcame her, Lisa felt soft lips touch her cheek. She heard Bobbie's voice say: "Sleep well, my darling. Je Vaime, my pet. I love you very much."
Lisa smiled, sleepily content, knowing that secretly she had realized this all along.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lisa awakened gently to rays of morning sunlight streaming warmly into the bedroom. She stretched lazily, not opening her eyes at first, secure in the soft comfort of the bed beneath her, the blankets and sheets that whispered silkily against her naked body. She yawned and relaxed, letting her drowsiness slowly fade before the onset of consciousness. For some reason the bed seemed more comfortable this morning than it had before--warmer, softer, and more inviting. And then, even before she opened her eyes, a new awareness began creeping over her. In a panic she opened her eyes wide to confirm the fact: She was not in her own bed! It wasn't even her bedroom or her apartment. This one was more luxuriously furnished, with a large double bed instead of the two singles she shared with Joyce. At her movement, the body in bed with her stirred lazily. Surprised, Lisa stared at the moving blankets. Then she smiled as memory returned, and she breathed a sigh of relief, settling back on the soft bed to recall the events of the previous night.
Some of it was still vague, but she did remember the long, tiring day out at the Expo 69 fairgrounds, the taxi ride back to her apartment, where she looked forward to a good night's sleep. Instead, she had discovered Joyce in bed with her new-found lover, Hugh, making frantic love. She'd beat a hasty retreat, been humiliated in a bar by a drunken male, who had then followed her into the dark streets and tried to rape her. Until Roberta--Bobbie--Posner came along to rescue her from that fate worse than death, to take her home with her, to give her a bath, to figuratively and literally lick her wounds--and to make beautiful, passionate lesbian love to her. Looking at it in the raw, naked light of morning, Lisa realized with somewhat of a start that she felt pangs of guilt about it, but not as many pangs of guilt as she probably should, considering what she'd done and with whom--or rather, with what--another girl. The fat man in the bar had called her a lesbian, a queer, when she'd resisted his advances. Well, one thing was certain: She'd rather be one than go to bed and have sex with a dirty, stinking male like him. She would have been violently ill if he'd even lay his hands on her. All of the other men she'd known, even the nice ones, had produced this nauseous feeling she always had whenever they had sex. But with Bobbie it was different. Bobbie's advances had been rather obvious, yet Lisa had not resisted them. In fact, she had enjoyed it all very much. She recalled with delight the gentle but insistent pressures on her arms, the touching of their bodies, as the woman led her to safety and warmth in her house, the undressing with the subtle brushing of fingers against breasts and thighs, the soaping in the tub, the naked snuggling against each other in the big bed.
Lisa closed her eyes and leaned back on the bed, letting the memories assail her. Her body began to react with a golden sheen and her nipples hardened once more as she remembered vividly the feeling of Bobbie's slim body rubbing against her, the delightful massaging tingle their breasts felt as they touched, the feel of straining legs intertwining, the musky warmth of loins grinding in luxuriant togetherness. And the best thing of all was that after she'd had her orgasm and they were just lying there together, she still felt good.
"Bon matin, ma petite," a female voice said beside her.
The voice startled her, as did the grinning face now peeping from beneath the covers. Bobbie Posner's mussed-up short, dark hair made her face appear all the more impish.
"Wh--what?" Lisa managed.
"I said good morning," the other woman explained. "How do you feel?"
"Wonderful!" Lisa enthused, then realized with a blush that perhaps Bobbie would think it was because of their lesbian lovemaking the previous night--which, she had to admit to herself, it probably was.
"You blush very prettily," Bobbie said huskily, her eyes glistening, "all over."
"Thanks," Lisa said, self-consciously. To change the subject, she said, "I do have a tiny headache. Do you have any aspirin?"
Bobbie laughed. "I should think you would have a headache, after all the alcohol you consumed last night." She moved closer on the bed. "But I have something much better than aspirin to cure my darling's headache."
Bobbie's naked breasts pressed up against her, and the woman's hand came to rest between her legs.
Lisa shivered and moved away. "No. Please. Not now anyway."
Bobbie frowned and looked hurt. "But why not?"
Lisa stumbled over her words. "I--I don't know. It was all so sudden--I mean, what happened last night."
Bobbie's smile returned. "Ah, ma chere, I believe I understand now. Last night was your first time with another woman."
"Yes," Lisa admitted.
"And," Bobbie continued in a ponderous tone of voice, "you feel terribly guilty about what we did."
Lisa nodded.
"And ashamed," Bobbie prompted.
Lisa hesitated, then nodded again, more reluctantly this time. Actually, she was a little guilty and a little ashamed, but it annoyed her that her feelings did not match her crime.
"But," Bobbie persisted, "you did enjoy yourself last night."
Lisa sighed and nodded. "Yes," she said, "I did enjoy myself last night. Very much. More than I ever did with a man. It's been such a long time--with another person, that is."
Bobbie's smile was certain. "It's about time, my pet, that you discovered the truth about yourself. You cannot get sexual satisfaction with a man, any more than I can myself. You must have another woman to love you and be loved by you."
Lisa shook her head, bewildered. "I--I don't know, Bobbie. It's been so sudden--"
"I don't think so, ma chere," Bobbie interrupted gently. "Your body has probably known it for a long time, but you didn't want to listen to it."
Lisa thought about her feelings at seeing the blonde Joyce naked and wondered if Bobbie was right.
The other woman leaned over to kiss her on the lips. "But we can talk later, my dove. First, let us take care of your headache in the conventional way, with aspirin. You will find some in the bathroom. While you are doing that, I will make us breakfast."
As Bobbie threw back the covers and bounded spiritedly from the bed, Lisa's eyes automatically went to her small but adequate breasts with the nipples jutting out like ruddy spikes, then descended over the flat stomach and the slim legs that had given her so much pleasure. She felt her loins warm at the sight and the thought and wondered if she should ask Bobbie to cure her headache in her own unconventional way, which would probably be very interesting. But a second later Bobbie was in the bathroom, running water into a basin, and the opportunity was lost. Lisa lay back in the bed and just relaxed, trying not to think of anything at all. Instead, she thought of Joyce, and wondered if the blonde was worried about her--or if she'd taken the occasion to have Hugh spend the entire night.
A few minutes later, Bobbie returned to the bedroom, opened a closet door and put on a robe, which she let hang open in front. She caught Lisa staring at her, and she smiled as she asked, "Is there anything special you would like to eat, ma chere?" Lisa felt her cheeks turning red. Bobbie laughed and pulled her robe together in front. "How about bacon and eggs, orange juice and coffee?"
"Fine, fine," Lisa told her.
"How would you like it?" Bobbie persisted, letting the robe fall open again as though by accident.
Lisa looked up at her. Instinctively her eyes returned to mentally caress the slim breasts, the flat stomach, the inviting juncture of the woman's silken thighs.
"The eggs, I mean," Bobbie said, though Lisa knew that wasn't really what she'd meant, "and the coffee. How would you prefer them cooked?"
Lisa played it straight. "Eggs sunny side up, and coffee black, please. But I hate to put you to all that trouble--"
"It is not trouble at all, ma chere. Most times I merely have coffee and some pastries. But I feel like celebrating at finding such a beautiful treasure."
Lisa stared at her, not comprehending. "Beautiful treasure?"
Bobbie swept to the door. "You, my pet," Bobbie told her, blowing her a kiss, before disappearing.
Lisa stared after her, frowning. Bobbie evidently thought that their relationship was going to continue unabated. But she was wrong. Lisa wasn't a lesbian. She didn't want to be a lesbian. All right, maybe she had enjoyed the sex they'd had together, but it had been such a long time since she'd had any release. Besides, she'd been drinking heavily and really didn't know--or care --what she was doing. Even as she thought that last thought, she knew she was lying to herself. She hadn't been that drunk. Still, the rationalization was better than nothing. She clambered out of bed and went into the bathroom. There was a shower stall adjacent to the big tub she had shared with Bobbie. She got into this stall and turned on the cold water, letting the icy spray shock her into wakefulness. When she finally turned off the water and climbed out, her skin tingled. She rubbed her dripping body vigorously with a towel hanging nearby, unable to keep from her mind thoughts of how pleasant it had been the night before when Bobbie had helped dry her.
Back in the bedroom, she examined her clothing hanging over the back of a chair. Her clothes were dirty and tattered, and she knew she wouldn't be able to wear any of them. She picked up the robe she wore the night before and put it on. While knotting the garment about her, she couldn't help but notice the open closet was filled with expensive dresses, skirts, blouses, slips and coats. Bobbie had good taste, and apparently the money required to indulge herself in it.
"Any time you are ready, my sweet," Bobbie called from the kitchen.
"Coming," Lisa called back to her.
She walked barefoot from the bedroom, across the heavily carpeted living room into the tiled kitchen.
"I do hope you like the way I make your eggs," Bobbie said, concerned.
Lisa seated herself at the table. "It all looks so wonderful," she said, meaning it.
Bobbie smiled, pleased. "But of course, ma chere," she said. "As you have already observed, I am a woman of many talents."
Lisa felt annoyed with herself. Why must everything Bobbie said sound like a double entendre? Possibly because she really had a guilty conscience after all. And possibly also because Bobbie intended it that way. There was no question about the fact that the woman was a good cook. The eggs were done beautifully, and garnished with saut�ed mushrooms. The bacon was crisp but not overdone. The orange juice was obviously freshly squeezed. The coffee was better than Lisa had been used to recently.
For a few minutes they ate in silence. Then Bobbie's hand glided over the table and touched Lisa's arm. The artist's pretty face was soft. "You're not angry with me, are you, ma petite?"
"No, of course not," Lisa said quickly. "Why should I be angry?"
Bobbie shrugged. "No reason I can thing of. But you seemed so--well, so preoccupied with your thoughts. I was afraid--"
"Look, if you mean about last night," Lisa said with a sigh, "it was my fault."
"Fault?" Bobbie's smile was tinged with bitterness. She gave a sad, knowing smile. "Then you regret our little--uh--escapade of last night?"
"I--" Lisa hesitated, then decided to be truthful. "I'm not sure, really."
"I suppose," Bobbie said with a pout, "you're ashamed of letting a lonely old woman seduce you."
"But you're not old, Bobbie," Lisa protested quickly. Realizing suddenly she was on the defensive, she tried another avenue. "Besides, I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing."
Bobbie laughed and shook her head. "Lisa, really, my pet, you're not going to use that old excuse. You had a little to drink, but you were certainly not drunk. You were merely very relaxed. You were in the mood for some love-making, but you didn't want a man to do it to you."
The implication of that bothered Lisa. "Are you trying to tell me I'm a lesbian?"
Bobbie's smile was enigmatic. "Are you trying to tell me you are not, my pet?"
"Yes," Lisa said. "I'd never even thought about having a woman before."
"Haven't you? Perhaps not consciously. But tell me, my precious one, when was the last time you enjoyed sex with a man?"
Lisa opened her mouth to give the woman a quick reply, but she found she couldn't remember when. There had been men in her life, of course, but now it seemed as though they had never existed. Besides, Bobbie had asked her when was the last time she had enjoyed sex with a man. She had never enjoyed it. She recalled vaguely she'd told Bobbie it had been a long time, so she said, "A few weeks ago."
Busy with a piece of toast, Bobbie grunted her skepticism. "Forgive me, my sweet, but I have the feeling that it was much longer than that, if at all."
"Yes," Lisa admitted reluctantly, "I'm afraid you're right."
"And," Bobbie persisted, "you enjoyed it with me last night, n'estpas?"
"Yes," Lisa told her, "but there's one thing you've got to realize, Bobbie. I'm not going to do it again."
Bobbie looked up, genuinely shocked. "Mais pourquoi pas, ma petite? I mean, why not?"
"Because--" Lisa floundered for words. "Because it's not normal."
Bobbie laughed and shook her head. "Ah, my child, you really have so much to learn about the world today. Surely you have not been hiding your head in the ground, like an ostrich?"
"Well--" Lisa began angrily.
But Bobbie rushed on, "Don't you know that all persons in the world are bisexual. Since the beginnings of time there have been lesbians. Even today, many of your 'normal' girls indulge in it regularly. Mais oui, they call them pajama parties or bridge clubs, but they do all the things that lesbians do. And why? Because their husband, their boyfriends, do not satisfy them the way a woman can.
"Ma petite, remember that only a woman can know how another woman feels, and more importantly, how she wants to feel."
Lisa considered it. From what had happened the previous night, it certainly seemed as though Bobbie were right about that. Bobbie sounded very convincing with her arguments--and she had their lovemaking to back her up.
"You haven't had much experience with men, have you, ma petite," Bobbie said. It was a statement not a question.
Lisa verified it. "I've had intercourse with five men," she admitted. "I thought I was in love with the last one, but it wasn't any better with him than with any of the others. He seemed to care for me, yet he'd make furious love to me and when he'd finished getting his own pleasure, he'd just roll over and go to sleep."
Bobbie smiled understanding. "One of the hazards of being a man. When one of them has finished eating--in a manner of speaking, of course--he is no longer hungry and can't get interested in you even if you're starving."
Lisa had to smile at the strange metaphor.
"As for me, ma petite," Bobbie went on, playfully gnashing her teeth, "I have a ravenous appetite." As Lisa's smile faded, Bobbie asked, "And what happened between you and your selfish male lover?"
Lisa's face clouded at the memory. "I--I got pregnant. I didn't mind, really. I thought we'd get married and have a family, and maybe the sex would work itself out. But when I told him, he got very angry with me. He said that the child couldn't possibly be his, because he was sterile, and that I was a slut who'd been sleeping with some other guys. He struck me and when I was down he kicked me hard in the stomach."
Bobbie's face darkened and she swore in French under her breath. Her hand went out to clutch Lisa's arm.
"He said he never wanted to see me again, and he left. I lay there crying for awhile, before I noticed that I was bleeding. The kicks in the stomach had caused a miscarriage. I had to go to the hospital and they had to clean me out, which was very painful. But at least I wasn't pregnant any more."
Bobbie inched her chair closer and pecked Lisa warmly on the cheek. "Ma pauvre petite," she sympathized.
Lisa wiped away a trace of moisture that had appeared in her eyes. "Anyway, after that I couldn't stand to have a man come near me. Anytime I saw that lustful look on one of their faces, I felt creepy, and I remembered the hell I'd been through."
Bobbie nodded. "I have never been with a man myself, but some of my friends have. A woman needs to relieve her sexual tension, my sweet, just like a man. It is dangerous to have it just build up inside you."
"I masturbate once in a while," Lisa admitted, "but of course it's nothing like--like what we did."
Bobbie impulsively hugged her close and kissed her full on the lips. "Not only that, ma petite," she said exuberantly, "but I promise faithfully I shall not get you pregnant!"
Lisa had to laugh at the absurdity of the remark. Perhaps it was lucky that Bobbie had come along when she did.
Bobbie squeezed her hand. "We can find a great deal of happiness together, Lisa."
Lisa hesitated, not quite ready to accept it. "I wonder."
"I shall prove it to you," Bobbie promised, "if you'll let me."
"We'll see," Lisa promised. She glanced at the wall clock. "I'd better leave. It's almost eleven o'clock."
"You could stay here with me," Bobbie suggested. "Perhaps we could go out to Expo later this afternoon. I would like you to see some of my paintings on display there."
"I'd love to," Lisa said, "but I can't last forever on the money I've got. I need to go out and find a job."
"I could give you money," Bobbie said.
"Thanks, but I couldn't-"
"But of course I did not mean for nothing. You promised you would pose for me."
"And I will," Lisa told her, rising, "but in my spare time. I want to get a steady job and not be dependent on the generosity of my friends-- which is what it would be, Bobbie, generosity, let's face it."
Bobbie sighed. "Not completely, my sweet. But I will admit that I do have an overwhelming desire to be very generous to you--with everything."
In the bedroom, Lisa surveyed once more her torn and soiled clothing. Not only was the clothing unpresentable, but Lisa shuddered at the memory of how it had become soiled and torn, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to put the garments next to her skin.
Bobbie voiced her thoughts. "You may as well throw those out, ma chere." She threw open the closet door and swept her hand to indicate the many clothes hung there. "Take whatever you wish. We are about the same size-except in the breast department; by the way, did I tell you that you have the loveliest breasts I have ever seen? The bras will not fit you, I fear, but you are so full and firm I do not really think you need any."
Bobbie was right. They were roughly the same size, and the things that didn't fit exactly were stretchable, and Lisa filled them out better than Bobbie could have, even with padding. She wound up with an expensive skirt and a sweater that bulged provocatively, the telltale points of nipples revealing her lack of brassiere. Lisa surveyed herself in the mirror. "It's very nice. I'll return it as soon as I can."
Bobbie shrugged. "Do not trouble yourself, my pet. I have many clothes. Just keep it as my present to you for a wonderful evening."
"You're very nice, Bobbie," Lisa said, meaning it.
Bobbie wet her lips and moved in close. "You are an easy person to be nice to, Lisa," she murmured. "I would like to be nice to you all the time."
Bobbie took her in her arms and pulled her close, mashing her lips warmly against the other girl's mouth, letting the tongue dart into the crevice and move around with gently insistent thrusts. The artist's eyes were beginning to glaze with the passion building up inside her.
"Can't you stay for awhile longer, ma chere?"
Lisa caught her breath. She felt dizzy, and the blood pounding in her veins made her pulse quicken. "I--not now--"
Bobbie stepped back, controlling herself. "Perhaps later then," she said.
"Perhaps," Lisa agreed.
"At least you will let me drop you off at your apartment?" Bobbie said. At Lisa's obvious hesitation, she amended, "Or rather near it, shall we say, just in case your roommate is around."
Lisa squeezed Bobbie's hand, grateful for the woman's understanding. A man would have made a federal case out of it, parading his conquest before the world, not caring for the girl's feelings. Bobbie dressed herself in a tweed suit, and the two went out into the morning sunlight to the foreign sedan waiting in the driveway. They drove in silence for awhile. Lisa busied herself gazing out the window at the passing scenery of the St. Joseph Oratory, Mount Royal Park, and the Museum of Fine Arts.
"Montreal is such a beautiful city," she sighed.
"Mais oui, ma chere," Bobbie agreed readily, "and I will bet you have hardly seen anything of it yet. There are many wonderful sights, both man-made and natural, and I would be only too happy to show them to you."
"I'd like that."
"We could start tonight. Perhaps with dinner in the French Quarter, in a little restaurant I know of, Au Lutin Qui Bouffe, which resembles a medieval inn. The food there is magnifique. You must try the cherry duck with flaming Grand Marnier--" Lisa had to laugh at Bobbie's exuberance. "I don't know how I can refuse an invitation like that-"
"Then don't."
"But I must. I--I don't know how to explain it, Bobbie. I guess I can't really. But I need a little time alone to think."
Bobbie pulled the car to a halt where Lisa indicated. "Forgive my impatience, ma chere. It is just that I want to see you as often and as long as I can, now that I have found you. I want us to be very good friends. But I do understand your feelings," she went on. "The sensations are probably new to you, and you feel uncertain about them. It will take a little time, but not too long I hope. Meanwhile, take this--" She pressed a small object into Lisa's hand. "The key to my apartment. You will always be welcome there any time of the day or night."
Lisa got out, and as the car swiftly accelerated down the street, she gripped the object tightly in her palm. Then she brought it up before her gaze and looked at it. It was Bobbie's apartment key all right, but it was wrapped in a Canadian one hundred dollar bill!
CHAPTER FIVE
As the car accelerated from the curb, Lisa stared at the one hundred bill clutched in her hand. At first she was surprised to have it. Then a slow resentment began building inside her, as she wondered if Bobbie had given her the money as payment--as though she were a whore the artist had picked up and the next morning paid for having used her body! The thought hurt, but it was softened somewhat by her next one: perhaps it wasn't as payment after all. Perhaps Bobbie was merely being friendly, lending a financial helping hand to her, knowing she needed it. Okay, then, she decided, she'd think of it as a loan--but she'd pay Bobbie back every cent.
She felt better for the decision. The morning air was cool and crisp, although it was almost noon. Lisa walked briskly up Tupper Street toward her apartment. Cars and trucks rushed past. In one of them, a group of young boys leaned out the window and whistled admiration at her. She blushed, pleased by the attention. Apparently, her affair with a lesbian hadn't changed her outward appearance. She was still attractive to the opposite sex, too. She realized that despite Bobbie's insistence that they were "approximately" the same size, Bobbie's clothes were just a shade too small for her. The effect, however, was electric, for when Lisa filled out the material it was obvious her magnetism went right to work. Men on foot who passed her turned to stare in awe at her firm buttocks and the breasts jiggling unrestrainedly under the sweater. It amused Lisa to think that here these men were drooling after her, while she had absolutely no interest in them. The sexual session with Bobbie--the only satisfactory sexual experience she had ever had in her life--had taught her that. She was a lesbian.
She thought it strange that she wasn't repelled by the word, the description, or the idea. In past times, whenever she'd bothered to think of it, she'd always thought that lesbians were crude mannish types, not feminine at all--very similar, actually to the males they tried to emulate, except for the sexual apparatus, of course. But Bobbie was not like that at all. There was a certain cocky assuredness about the artist, but she was nevertheless very graceful, gentle, affectionate, and attractive. And, Lisa had to admit, she had really enjoyed the things they had done together naked in the bed the previous night. She recognized her need for sexual satisfaction, and during the past several months, the tensions had been building up inside her at an alarming rate, and her occasional excursions into drunkenness had served to numb the pain but not to get rid of it. Masturbation helped physically, but not psychologically. As she walked along, she was aware that the sexual release had been a good thing for her, not only from a physiological standpoint but from an emotional one as well. She felt better all around. But whether or not this meant she would repeat the act was another question.
As she let herself into the apartment, Joyce was not in sight but there was the sound of water running in the shower. A moment later, Joyce came into the room, nude, her golden body glistening with droplets of water, a large towel in one hand.
"Oh it's you, Lisa," she exclaimed. "I thought I heard a noise out here."
Lisa was amused. "Do you always investigate noises dressed like that?"
"Of course," Joyce grinned. "In case it's a burglar we might have to wrestle around, and I want to be ready."
Lisa laughed, remembering the story Joyce had told. Once a burglar had actually come into her apartment. The blonde had grabbed the man and toppled him into bed with her. When she unzipped his trousers the man was too surprised to resist. While her roommate at the time called the police, Joyce kept the man prisoner by threatening to bite his penis off. Joyce loved to tell the story, always ending it with: "The police and the burglar both came at the same time--but not in the same way!"
Now, the blonde started rubbing her body briskly with the towel. Then she stopped and stared. "Say, honey, you've got yourself some new clothes." She circled Lisa and nodded admiringly. "Not bad."
Lisa felt her cheeks redden. She had completely forgotten that Joyce knew all the clothes in her meager wardrobe. "It's a--it's a present from a friend."
Joyce grinned knowingly. "The same 'friend' you spent the night with, honey?"
Lisa felt her cheeks flame all the more. "Yes," she said, embarrassed by the questioning.
Joyce was obviously impressed. "He must be quite a man if he tore off your clothes and had to replace them."
Lisa wet her lips. "Yes," she said, "he--he is."
"You're a lucky girl," Joyce sighed. "Some of the jokers I get, Fm the one who has to tear off their clothes."
The big blonde continued rubbing her body with the towel, bending over so that her breasts shook and jiggled. Her naked flesh almost glowed with animal health, and Lisa was suddenly aware that she was looking at her roommate with more than casual interest. She felt a warm feeling deep inside her as she gazed at the tempting nude body, the jutting breasts that almost demanded that their turgid tips be kissed and sucked upon. Lisa had often seen Joyce nude before, but now it seemed as though she were seeing the blonde for the first time. As she gazed in awe at the girl's charms, her fingers itched to reach out for those breasts, to plunge her fingers deep inside the juncture of the blonde's legs. Thinking about it, Lisa felt her throat go dry with longing. She wondered what it would be like to be naked in bed with Joyce, to mouth her nipples, to kiss her genitals the way Bobbie would and let her tongue make love to the vital spot where no woman's tongue had yet been. The answer came quickly: very nice--very nice, indeed.
"Hey, what's with you, honey?" Joyce wanted to know. "You've been in a trance ever since you got home. Your new boyfriend must be quite a cocksman."
"What? Oh, I'm sorry--" Lisa tore her eyes away from the statuesque blonde.
"Don't apologize. It's nice to know you're human and like screwing. For awhile, I was afraid you didn't like boys."
Lisa looked up in alarm, but she saw the girl was kidding.
"By the way," Joyce went on, "a friend of yours called a while ago."
Lisa closed her eyes as the fear returned. Oh no, if Bobbie called, and Joyce suspected-- "Vince Balluck," Joyce said. "I didn't know when you'd be back, so I said you had some errands to run, and you might even go out to the Expo fairgrounds again today. He seems like a regular guy."
"He is," Lisa said, remembering.
She hadn't seen Vince for over six months now. After a couple of dates, he'd tried to do more than kiss her. As usual, she'd panicked and shoved him away. After that, he called once and she'd put him off. He didn't call a second time, so she'd figured he'd lost interest.
"I could always take him off your hands," Joyce suggested with a grin, "if you don't want to be bothered."
"I don't want to be bothered," Lisa told her.
The blonde's grin got wider. "This new guy of yours must really be something special."
"New guy?"
"The one you spent the night with."
"Oh yes," Lisa said quickly, "yes, he--he is."
"Like to tell me about him?"
Lisa shook her head. "No. Not yet, anyway."
"Okay," Joyce said, disappointed that she wasn't going to get a blow-by-blow description. "I guess you're just the type that doesn't screw and tell--like some of us. But believe me, Lisa, I am happy for you. You should've done this a long time ago. It's not love, honey, but good old S-E-X that makes the world go around."
Lisa was in the mood to agree with her as she watched the blonde's saucily twitching buttocks disappearing in the direction of the bedroom. It was funny how one pleasant session of sex could change her attitude so. Regardless of anything else, she had to admit that the sexual affair with Bobbie had been pleasant. And she was sure it would be the same with Joyce. Lisa closed her eyes and tried to picture herself in bed with the blonde, making love to that gorgeous Amazon body, running her mouth over the breasts, pressing her own body up tightly against the pulsating feminine flesh. Except, she thought with a sigh that returned her to reality, Joyce apparently shared society's distaste for girls who went for other girls.
Lisa went into the bedroom, where she tried not to look at the naked Joyce who was stretched out on one of the twin beds, yawning lazily. Lisa felt her heart hammer with renewed enthusiasm. She had seen Joyce naked before, but it had never affected her like this. She was like a starving girl who had suddenly found a new, though forbidden, source of food.
"I think I'll take a shower," she decided aloud.
It wasn't until she was taking off the sweater that she remembered she wasn't wearing a bra, but by that time it was too late. She blushed at Joyce's long, low whistle as her breasts bounced nakedly into sight.
"Wow, honey," the blonde said, "you really believe in being ready, don't you. Pretty soon you'll be outdoing me in the sex department."
Lisa made no return comment. She undressed quickly, pulled on a robe and retreated to the bathroom. When the door was locked behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. She really did need a shower. The sight of the voluptuous Joyce had caused her body to glow with a sheen of perspiration. It was madness to think it, but she knew she'd like to be outdoing Joyce in the sex department. She turned on the cold water and then stepped into the shower stall under the spray. She gasped as the icy needles hit her warm body, but a moment later she was used to it and luxuriating in the tingles that spread over her skin. Lisa soaped herself vigorously, and then leaned back to enjoy the feel of the water carrying her tensions down her body into the swirling maelstrom of the drain.
While she was drying herself, she heard Joyce scurrying about in the kitchen, rattling dishes and pans. They took turns cooking and cleaning, and it was Joyce's turn to do the cooking. Lisa sincerely hoped that the blonde was fully clothed and not running around naked again. The strain would be just too much. Lisa slipped on a robe and went into the bedroom, where she dressed in slacks and blouse. When she returned to the kitchen, she was pleased to see that Joyce had on something, even if it wasn't much. The blonde wore a skimpy halter and a pair of very tight short shorts, with obviously nothing underneath, for the cloth outlined everything she had on top and on bottom. In some ways, Lisa reflected, it was even sexier that way than if the girl had been completely nude.
Joyce had made a large chef's salad for them, and it was sitting in a huge bowl in the center of the table. "Looks good," Lisa said, seating herself.
"Of course," Joyce said, beaming. "I'm a woman of many talents, in and out of the bedroom."
The words sounded familiar enough to bring a frown to Lisa's face. She wondered where she'd heard similar words before--and then almost immediately remembered that Bobbie had said practically the same thing. Double entendres were not strangers to either of these girls who seemed so obsessed with sex. Of course, beyond that generality their similarities ended, for the sex object in each case would be a different gender.
"Got another hot date with your new boyfriend tonight?" Joyce asked.
"No." Lisa shook her head. "He--he wanted to, but I thought I'd just stay home tonight and rest."
Joyce gave her a big grin. "I get it, honey. Don't give in too easy. Play hard to get and keep them guessing, that's the ticket. Sometimes I wish I'd be like that, but I'm just too anxious to get fucked. Excuse the good old Anglo-Saxon, but with me 'making love' just doesn't seem to describe it. Anyway, a guy just has to look at me like he wants to do something, and I blow my cool." Her grin got bigger. "And that's not all that gets blown either. Anyway, I've got another date with Hugh tonight, so I'll be out late."
"He must be something pretty special."
"That's for sure," Joyce said, licking her lips. She held up her hands the way a fisherman might in describing the one that got away. "It's about this long and good for a lot of things."
Lisa really didn't approve her roommate's behavior, but she envied her casual acceptance of it. Joyce knew what she was and what she wanted, and didn't let it bother her. Perhaps, Lisa wondered, that was the answer for her own problem. Accept the fact that she's a lesbian, and enjoy the sex when and where she can.
"By the way," Joyce interrupted her thoughts, "thanks for doing what you did last night."
Lisa gave her a blank look.
Joyce went on, "I mean sneaking out of the apartment when Hugh and I were fucking."
"You knew I was there watching you?" Lisa said incredulously.
"Sure." Joyce shrugged. "It wouldn't have bothered me, actually, but Hugh might have gotten self-conscious. You know how men are. Anyway, it all worked out for the best, because you apparently had yourself a good time last night."
"Yes," Lisa said, just a little stunned by the revelation. She realized that she could have just stayed in the living room and read a magazine and didn't have to go out into the damp Canadian night. Then she wouldn't have been subjected to the near rape at the hands of the drunk. But then she wouldn't have met Bobbie Posner either. Which might have been a good thing, too. She still hadn't made up her mind about that. One thing she had made her mind up about, though, was getting a job in Montreal if she could get a work permit. She realized she could probably accept more money from Bobbie under the pretext of posing for the artist, but Lisa didn't want to put herself under that obligation. Perhaps when she found a job she might pose merely out of friendship, but she was sure she wouldn't take any money for it. After all, that was the least she could do. Besides, there was still the matter of the one hundred dollars Bobbie had slipped to her.
"A penny for your thoughts," Joyce said with a smile.
"Canadian or American?"
"Canadian."
"I was thinking," Lisa said, telling part of the truth, "that I'd better get a work permit and start pounding on doors looking for a job. There's a good possibility that I may get an office job with an insurance company downtown. They're supposed to let me know this afternoon if--" The telephone rang, interrupting her.
"Maybe that's them now," Joyce said, going to answer it. She spoke into it for a moment, then grinned and handed it to Lisa. "Nope. It's better. Some guy with a hard on."
Lisa took the phone. A man's voice said, "Lisa, is that you?" He went on, "This is Vince. Vince Balluck. Did Joyce tell you I called before?"
"Yes, Vince, she did," Lisa admitted without any enthusiasm in her voice, "How are you?"
"Not bad," Vince said. "I'm in New York right now, but I'm planning on going up to Montreal to see the Expo. I thought that since you were practically a native by now you'd be willing to show me the place."
"Well--I'd love to, Vince, but I'm really afraid I don't have the time--"
"Oh, I know you're pretty busy up there, but I promise not to take up too much of you."
Lisa was annoyed that he couldn't seem to take no for an answer. But then she reflected that she hadn't come out and told him no. Yet Vince was a nice guy. He was an attorney dabbling in politics, who might even run for State senator. Good-looking, intelligent, personable--a catch for any girl. How could you tell a man like that you didn't want to go out with him for fear he'd put his hands all over you or kiss you and that either one of those acts would make you nauseous!
"I'm afraid you don't understand me, Vince," Lisa said evenly. "I'll be tied up during all of my spare time, possibly--" She took a deep breath-- "possibly for the rest of my life."
Vince was silent for a moment, obviously stunned. "I didn't know, Lisa. I'm sorry--I mean, I'm sorry for bothering you. But I do wish you the best there is."
"Thank you," Lisa said.
She replaced the receiver into its cradle and found that her hand was shaking. It surprised her, now that it was all over, that she had been so cold, almost rude to the man. She wondered if it was because she wasn't interested in him--or if she was afraid to face him.
"Boy," Joyce said, "you really know how to hurt a guy! Why don't you just kick him in the balls!"
Lisa glared angrily. "I'm sorry if I hurt his feelings. I really am. But there's no point in beating around the bush and leading him on. I'm just not interested."
Joyce shook her head. "I don't get it, honey.
I never met the guy, but I did talk to him on the phone today, and from what I've heard about him from you I'd say that you're out of your mind for not at least giving the guy a chance."
"If you're so interested in him," Lisa snapped, "why don't you go out with him?"
Joyce shook her head. "It wouldn't last, honey. The kind of guys I go for are the ones who can literally give me a fucking good time in bed. I don't care if they're good looking or have good personalities or have good jobs--just as long as they've got a good stiff cock between their legs."
Lisa grunted. "From the little experience I've had with Vince Balluck, I'd say he fit the bill."
"And the snatch, too, probably," Joyce admitted. "Trouble is, he'd want to give me more than that--things I don't want like a home and children and love and all that jazz." She shook her head. "That's not what I want out of life. I want to get laid as often and as many times as possible."
"Funny, I never would've suspected it," Lisa told her wryly.
"If you were any kind of a true friend," Joyce said, mock seriously, "you'd tell me to go screw myself!"
She retreated to the bedroom. Lisa really hadn't intended to speak so sharply to the other girl, but she was sometimes annoyed by Joyce's simple, animal philosophy of life. But she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she should've taken Vince up on his suggestion that the two of them get together. It might take her mind off Bobbie--and of what had happened between the two of them. The phone rang again.
"It's probably Hugh," Joyce called from the bedroom. "He said he might call this afternoon."
"It's more likely the insurance company calling to tell me they've found somebody else," Lisa said, going to see who it really was.
"Ma petite," a familiar husky female voice said into her ear, "how are you feeling?"
"I--er--fine," Lisa said. It was lucky she'd been the one who'd answered the phone. "And how are you, Bobbie," she said, not knowing what else to say. She was sorry she'd mentioned the woman's name, for she looked up to see Joyce standing in the bedroom door grinning at her.
"I am lonely, my pet," Bobbie said. "It's only been a few hours since you were in my arms, but I miss you. Tell me, my sweet, do you miss your Bobbie too--maybe just a little bit?"
Lisa hesitated. "Well-"
"Oh, I see," Bobbie said quickly. "Someone is listening, no?"
"That's right."
"Well, I will not keep you long, ma chere. I wanted to know if you could come over to my place this evening. I have a special treat for you."
"Well, I'm sort of tired. I thought I'd watch television and get to bed early."
"Magnifique!" Bobbie said enthusiastically. "I have a television set I can put in the bedroom for us. We can watch and--uh--rest at the same time. Would you not like that ma chere?"
Lisa found herself getting as annoyed at Bobbie's persistence as she had at Vince's. "Not tonight. I want to go to bed alone tonight--to sleep."
Bobbie hesitated, obviously considering another attack. "All right, my sweet, but how about lunch tomorrow and maybe we could go out to the fairgrounds."
"Perhaps. The truth is, well, last night was sort of--well, unexpected. I have to have some time to think things over."
"I understand, my pet," Bobbie crooned. "May I call you tomorrow?"
"I'll call you," Lisa decided.
"Very well, my sweet," Bobbie said softly, "but I shall miss you tonight, all alone in the big bed. I shall dream about you, and perhaps tomorrow my dreams will come true."
Lisa hung up, afraid to turn around and face her roommate. She didn't have to, for Joyce came walking into her line of vision, grinning like the cat that ate the parakeet.
"Bobbie, huh?" the blonde mused. "Let me see, what kind of man would be called 'Bobbie?' "
"How about an English policeman?" Lisa suggested, trying to make a joke of it.
Joyce laughed, genuinely amused by the remark. "English perhaps," she mused, "probably extremely rich, with a title and a castle waiting for him back in jolly old England." She frowned thoughtfully. "From the nickname I'd say he's fairly young--in spirit anyway--slim, blond and very aristocratic looking. Am I close?"
"I've really got to hand it to you, Sherlock," Lisa said admiringly, "because you described him exactly." She hoped Joyce would drop it.
Joyce nodded understanding. "Not even close, huh? Okay, honey, I don't blame you for not wanting me to know more about him." Her frown deepened. "I hope you really don't think I'd try to steal him away from you--" Lisa shook her head quickly. "No, of course not. I never even thought of that. It's just that it's--well, it all happened so suddenly I just want a little time to think about it alone."
Joyce reached out to squeeze her arm. "In any event, honey, I'm glad you finally found somebody. I'm sure it was a good experience for you, even if you never see the guy again. To tell the truth, for awhile there I was getting just a little bit worried about you."
Lisa's heart leaped. "Worried?"
"Sure. You know, that you might be afraid of men and wind up an old maid."
Or worse, Lisa couldn't help thinking, a lesbian! She didn't know if that thought lay somewhere deep in Joyce's subconscious mind. She was thankful at any rate that the thought hadn't been voiced. At all costs she must keep her secret from her roommate. The blonde must never find out who Bobbie really was.
But she had already reacted physically to the sight of Joyce's voluptuous nude body. How long would it be, Lisa wondered, before she wouldn't be able to control her emotions, before she reached out impulsively some day or night, to touch the blonde's golden body, to kiss and caress it--to enjoy a moment of pleasure before her world collapsed in about her?
CHAPTER SIX
Later that evening, Joyce whirled into the room, all dressed up, asking, "How do I look?"
Lisa looked up from her magazine and barely managed to stifle a low whistle of appreciation as her eyes moved over the bulging sweater and the short tight skirt. It was obvious that the blonde wasn't wearing any underwear and the effect was breathtaking. Lisa wet her lips and was about to say, Good enough to eat, when she realized how that would sound. She settled for, "Very nice," but added wryly, "However, don't you think you might catch cold in certain places?"
Joyce laughed. "You mean because I don't have any underwear on. Don't worry, honey, I'm always hot in those places. Besides, why bother when Hugh will only have to take them off."
Lisa had to admit it was probably a practical attitude, considering the circumstances. She wondered if Joyce had told Hugh about her roommate's observation of their sexual acrobatics the previous night, for the engineer seemed just slightly ill at ease when he arrived and said hello to her. But they soon left for the evening, and Lisa settled down to watch an evening of television. She knew that when Joyce returned, the girl would take great delight in describing everything that had happened. She seemed to relive the exhilarating moments in the telling of the experience. Lisa recalled that she had always felt a certain vicarious excitement whenever the blonde roommate told what had happened, and she wondered now if it was because subconsciously she had been thinking of herself in the man's place, making love to Joyce's gorgeous body. Lisa also wondered how Joyce would react to a description of the lesbian lovemaking that had taken place only last night in Bobbie Posner's house. With revulsion, undoubtedly. Joyce was almost a nymphomaniac, but she tried the straight and narrow path. She wanted as much sex as she could get, but she didn't seem to go in for variations of the actual act itself. Lisa tried her best, but she just couldn't seem to get interested in any television programs. She turned off the set and picked up a book. That didn't work. Neither did a magazine. Her thoughts turned to Bobbie and of the fun they'd had. Lisa didn't try to kid herself--it had been fun. But she knew it was perverted--and probably illegal, for all she knew. What she should do was take the key and the hundred dollar bill Bobbie had slipped to her and mail them back to the artist with a letter thanking her for the rescue, and stating as subtly but as clearly as she could that she liked men and not women and so there was no point in them seeing each other again. Except Lisa wasn't really convinced of any of that herself. Besides, she rationalized, Bobbie might be hurt if she returned the money. Okay, so the other woman had plenty of it, and if she wanted to give it to her less fortunate friends, well why not. She could also keep putting off the lesbian, in much the same way she'd been putting off Vince Balluck. Perhaps, she thought, she should go out with Vince. She had no particular desire for him, but at least he was not another woman. Deep inside her, Lisa felt the pangs of guilt and shame stab her consciousness. She didn't mind it so much if she knew herself as a lesbian, but suppose someone else found out. It would shock her brother, whom she hadn't seen in such a long time, as well as her mother. She would never be able to go home again, to face them. No, she had to break off her relationship with Bobbie before it was too late--before she found herself getting more and more dependent upon the woman for her sexual, emotional release of tensions. She felt better now that her mind was made up. She took a hot bath and turned on the television set again, sitting in the couch opposite, dressed only in her robe. After awhile she fell asleep.
She was awakened abruptly by Joyce storming into the room, an angry look on her pretty face.
, "Joyce, what's wrong?"
"Boy, did I have a night," she said disgustedly. "That lousy Hugh's a pervert, that's what's wrong!"
Lisa gulped. "What do you mean?"
Joyce looked down at herself, suddenly aware that her clothing was mussed up. She tucked her sweater into her skirt top and sank onto the couch.
"Well, it started out normally enough," she said. "We went out and had a few drinks, and then we went over to his place and sat on the couch and started doing some necking. He put his hands up under my sweater, like he always does and starts feeling my breasts, and then he pushes up the sweater and sucks on the nipples until I can hardly stand it." s Lisa nervously wet her lips and with horror realized she couldn't tear her gaze away from Joyce's breasts, with the nipples poking through the sweater.
"Then a minute later, right on schedule, he reaches up under my skirt. Well, he nearly fell off the couch when he discovered I wasn't wearing any panties. Then one of his hands got busy under there."
Lisa wet her lips again, aware of their unaccustomed dryness. Her gaze shifted from Joyce's breasts down over her sturdy hips to the curved legs which were slightly spread so she could see right between them up to the junction of the blonde girl's thighs. Lisa could feel perspiration start to bead her body.
"So I got busy too. I'll say this for Hugh, he's really got it where it counts. Before I even got to him, he was primed and ready to go. When he suggested we go into the bedroom, I said okay without a moment's hesitation. In fact, I had most of my clothes off before we even got there. The bedroom was dark, and I was brought up short by the sound of bedsprings squeaking. Somebody was already on the bed!"
"Who?"
"That's what I wanted to know. So I flicked on the light switch and stared at a young girl stretched out on the bed. The young girl smiled at me and Hugh told me this was his sister. I grunted and told him sure it was. The girl said her name was Nancy and she really was Hugh's sister. Looking closely, I could see a resemblance in the face. But the thing was, what was she doing on her brother's bed--and why was she stark naked.
"Hugh told me, without beating around the bush. He said that little sister didn't go for men at all, but she liked to ball girls. He said he'd told her all about me, and that sis had suggested we make it a threesome some night, and that tonight was as good a night as any."
"And--and you didn't, of course," Lisa said.
Joyce glared at her. "You're damned right I didn't. Look, honey, I may be a nymphomaniac, but I go for sex the right way, the way nature intended it. So I told him no. He said not to knock it if I didn't try it, that if I really liked sex this was a way to get some additional kicks. When I refused and started putting my clothes back on again, he slapped me. That's when I really got mad. I told him as far as I was concerned he could go fuck himself--or his little sister, for that matter. Then I brought my knee up into his crotch. With that big cock of his, I couldn't miss. Then when he'd doubled up, I hauled my ass the hell out of there as fast as I could."
"I--I don't blame you," Lisa said, aware that she should make some comment on the blonde's reactions. At another thought, she said, "But then how come you're home so late?"
Joyce smirked. "Well, after all that finger-screwing on the couch, my snatch was red hot-- and I knew I had to do something about it."
"So you went out and got yourself picked up by another man," Lisa suggested.
"Not another man, honey. Two other men."
"Two other men?"
Joyce nodded proudly. "I met these two guys at a bar. They're up here for Expo and have a room nearby, with a big double bed. I haven't done something like that in a long time. I mean, the positions you can get into with two guys. The one I like is where I suck on a guy's cock while the other sticks it in me from behind."
Lisa made a face. "Do you have to be so damned explicit?"
Joyce snorted. "Ah come on, honey, don't give me that Sunday school teacher look of disapproval--especially after what you did last night."
Lisa blushed and at the same time felt a cold chill go through her. Then she realized that her roommate thought she'd been with a man, and was referring to that.
"Besides, you're not as hot blooded as I am, Lisa," Joyce went on. "When I don't have any outlet, I really suffer. The desire just keeps building up in me until I get cramps, and I've just got to get it out of my system as best I can."
Lisa could sympathize with the girl. She recalled how tense and nervous and frustrated she'd felt before Bobbie had taken care of her.
Joyce got up and yawned. "Anyway, after that workout even I'm tired. I think I'll hit the sack."
"Me, too," Lisa decided, getting up to turn off the television set. "The insurance company didn't call today so I'd better get busy tomorrow and apply for my work permit." She followed the blonde into the bedroom and climbed into bed. She slitted her eyes and pretended to doze, but she watched Joyce undress. Her roommate didn't have much to remove, just the sweater, the skirt and her shoes. Then Joyce stretched lazily and walked nude across the room and back. Lisa felt her breath catch at the sight of the golden nude body bobbing before her eyes and automatically her hands crept down between her own legs in an effort to still her sudden longings.
Joyce turned out the lights and slipped between the covers of her own bed. "Good night, Lisa."
"Good night," Lisa murmured.
Joyce fell promptly asleep, and Lisa could hear her soft breathing in the darkness. She recalled vividly the sight of the blonde girl's voluptuous body, and thought of it lying asleep and naked just a few feet away. She couldn't help but wonder if the girl would wake up if Lisa just tiptoed over there and lifted the covers to take another look at her. But a look wouldn't be enough, she knew. She'd want to touch, and then to stroke--and who knows what further madness would follow. Angry with herself, she thrust the thoughts from her mind--or tried to. But the memory still singed her loins, and she reached down again to do what she could, what she had to. She reached an orgasm, but she had no real enthusiasm for the act and it did not satisfy her, and she spent a sleepless night. She knew that something would have to give. Lisa was afraid of what it would be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, after such a restless night of tossing and turning, Lisa awakened, completely exhausted. In the next bed, Joyce was slumbering peacefully, without a care in the world. Once again Lisa found herself envying the other girl her casual acceptance of what she was. She got up to make herself a cup of coffee and managed to catch the phone on its first ring.
"I hope I did not awaken you, ma petite," Bobbie's voice rang in her ears. "I just had to call you. Did you have a good-night's sleep?"
"Yes," Lisa lied.
She tried to make her voice as cold and informal as she could. At the same time she realized that if she'd gone over to Bobbie's place, she'd have had a good-night's rest and gotten rid of her passion too. She almost wished she had.
Bobbie sighed mournfully. "I'm afraid I did not sleep very well, my pet. I kept reaching out in the darkness for you, to touch and caress you, to kiss you all over--but you were not there." She hesitated and then asked, "Did you think of me at all, my darling?"
"No," Lisa told her. "Look, Bobbie, I may as well be honest with you. If I hadn't been drinking that night I probably would never have done the things I did with you."
"But what difference does it make why you did them?" Bobbie persisted. "The important thing is that you did do them, and now a whole new world has opened up before you."
"I'm sorry, Bobbie, but I can't accept that. I made a mistake, and I think we'd better just forget about it."
"Forget it! Mon Dieux, can one forget heaven once one has sampled it? Besides, my pet, you really do owe me something you know."
Lisa felt herself bristling. "If you're talking about the hundred dollars you gave me, well I still have it, and--"
"But of course I am not talking about the money," Bobbie insisted. "It was a present to you, without any strings attached. But I saved you from a fate worse than death, at the hands of that drunken man in the street."
"Well, of course, I am grateful, Bobbie--"
"And," Bobbie continued, "for showing you how delightful love can be with another woman. Do you remember how nice it was, my sweet? Do you remember my mouth on your nipples, and my tongue up between your legs?"
Despite her wishes, Lisa found herself remembering, and the ache in her loins grew stronger with the thought.
"I wish I'd never met you," she said.
"But you did, ma chere." Bobbie reminded her, "and you will never be the same again. I know all this has been very sudden. I really do understand, and you must excuse my impatience, but I have never found anyone so lovely as you. I miss you, Lisa, and I would like very much to see you. Please come visit me, and we'll talk."
"Just talk?" Lisa said suspiciously. "If you wish."
Lisa hesitated. Perhaps if she saw the woman in person, she could make her understand how she felt. "All right," she decided on impulse.
"Tonight?" Bobbie said eagerly.
"No, not tonight," Lisa told her quickly. "I've still got to think this over. It was so sudden. I'll call you."
"All right, but make it soon, my sweet."
"I will," Lisa promised.
It was even before she hung up that Lisa realized she was just rationalizing her motivation to go over and see Bobbie. She wanted to be naked with the other woman, to feel her slim body intertwining with hers, to experience the heady sensations of her practiced hands and mouth all over her body, relieving the ache, making her feel good again. She began to feel warm again just thinking about it, and she tried to rid her mind of the unwelcome thoughts. No matter how much her body cried out for lesbian love, her mind did not wish to accept it as the answer. It wasn't so bad if no one knew about it and she indulged only occasionally, but it would be easy for something like this to become a habit. Lisa could easily be sucked into a complete and unrelenting life of lesbianism. Suppose her friends found out about it? Suppose her family did--or Vince Balluck? Perhaps, she thought, she should go out with Vince. She didn't enjoy his caresses, but if she could manage a platonic relationship between the two of them, she might possibly forget this madness about going to another woman for sex. By the time her coffee was ready, Lisa had decided that if Vince did call again, she would go out with him when he came up to Montreal.
But Vince didn't call. Not that day nor the next. Lisa found herself getting increasingly tense. She got her work permit and continued her efforts at job hunting. She didn't go out to the Expo, although there was still so much for her to see. She knew the crowds would depress her rather than cheer her up. Besides, she really did need to get a job. She had already spent part of the hundred dollars that Bobbie had given her. Joyce was no help. She had completely gotten over her traumatic experience with Hugh and his lesbian sister Nancy. The two men she'd picked up helped her forget, for she visited them again and proceeded to have simultaneous love affairs with them both. When she returned home, exhausted but happy, she always told Lisa in graphic detail what had happened--which was invariably plenty. Lisa was getting desperate.
Days later Lisa still had no job, and the yearning deep within her had not had release. It got so bad she even thought about going with Joyce on a "double date" with her two lovers on a big orgy. Perhaps she could get drunk first so she wouldn't realize what she was doing until it was too late. The very idea revolted her too much, however, for her to seriously consider that. But it left her with two alternatives--going back to Bobbie, or trying to put out the sexual fire burning inside her with alcohol. She didn't like either solution, for she knew either one would be only temporary and she'd hate herself in the morning. So for another day she did absolutely nothing about it. She visited several employers looking for a job and felt uneasy when the men looked at her legs and stared at her breasts. In one of the places there was a crude, mannish looking woman who did the same thing and smiled a knowing sort of smile. My God, Lisa thought in a panic, have I changed so much that a lesbian can tell I enjoy women? She fled that possible job without even leaving an application. And then Bobbie called again.
"I haven't heard from you for several days, my sweet," the artist said pleasantly. "I was wondering how your job hunting is coming along."
"Fine," Lisa told her irritably. "There are several good possibilities coming up."
"Wonderful!" Bobbie enthused. "Meanwhile, the offer I made you still stands--I mean the one about you posing for me."
"No!" Lisa said loudly, and slammed the receiver down into its cradle.
Immediately she regretted her impulsive action. It had been a crude thing to do, a cruel thing to do to someone who genuinely liked her and whom she genuinely liked. But the frustration of not being able to find a job, combined with the sexual frustration that set her loins ablaze, was just too much. She couldn't seem to think straight any more. She managed to resist the urge to call back and apologize, to tell Bobbie that, yes of course she would be only too happy to pose. But if she did that, she might become a full-fledged lesbian, without any hope of redemption. Bobbie did not call back, and neither did Vince. The tensions were building up inside her at such a rate that she herself became aware of the visible signs. She was nervous, jumpy, with her nerves tangled and raw. She was irritable. She found herself dropping things. Her food was tasteless or worse. She knew she had to do something. After an unsuccessful interview she decided that since Bobbie was partly responsible for the mess she, Lisa, was in, it would be only right that some of the hundred dollars be used on some alcohol that might ease the torture she felt. The bar she found was on a side street off Dorchester Boulevard, near the bus terminal. It looked like any small bar she had ever been in, and if it hadn't been for the signs and conversation in both French and English she would not have been aware that she was in Montreal. For awhile it seemed as though it was going to work. She sat in the darkness on a barstool and sipped her drink and listened to the sound of the jukebox playing soft melodies. She started to relax for the first time in many days. The whiskey plunged into her stomach and warmed her, numbed her, made her body and mind start to feel nothing, nothing at all. And then she froze in horror. A smiling fat man was making his way down the bar toward her--the man who had tried to rape her in the street. Panic rising inside her, she quickly slipped off the stool.
"Hey, don't be afraid," he said, smiling in what was intended to be a soothing manner. "I just want to apologize for--well, for what happened the other night."
She stared at him in disbelief. "Apologize?"
"Sure. I guess I was a little rough with you. But I couldn't help it. I'd been drinking, and I was pretty hot and bothered--I mean, with the sight of those legs of yours and--" he grinned at the memory--"the rest of it."
Lisa turned to go, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"Here," he said, "let me buy you a drink. We can be good friends."
"No!" she told him harshly, squirming to be released from his grasp.
"Aw, come on," he insisted. "Don't be a spoilsport. Let's kiss and make up."
He leaned forward, as though to kiss her. Lisa swung up her purse, and in trying to duck it, he drew back and stumbled over the leg of the barstool, which teetered backwards. When he put his hand on the stool to steady himself, he went over to the floor with it. Lisa took the opportunity to run. She ran out into the street and up onto the boulevard and didn't stop until she was puffing out of breath and people were turning to look at her. She paused to regain her breath, and all the hatred for the male race surged up within her. A girl couldn't even mind her own business without one of the filthy animals trying to paw her. They were all ugly beasts with just one thing on their minds. The thought made her disgusted, contemptuous and very angry. She thought of what lay ahead for her--the apartment and Joyce, who would not understand. The blonde would welcome the pawings of any male animal in the area and couldn't sympathize. There was only one person she could talk to now. Only one person who would understand liar feelings, who would provide the warmth and compassion Lisa so desperately needed right now. She stopped in the bus station to make the telephone call, holding her breath while the phone rang at the other end a dozen times. Oh God, she prayed, she's got to be home. She's got to. She breathed a sigh of relief when the phone was picked up.
"Bobbie?" Lisa almost whispered.
"Yes," Bobbie's husky tones came into her ear, "Lisa, is that you?"
"Yes, can I come over to see you?"
"Now?"
"Yes, now," Lisa said, not trying to keep the eagerness from her voice. She wet her lips. "Bobbie, I need you."
There was a pause at the other end. "I've dreamed of you saying that to me, ma chere. Take a taxi and hurry, my lovely one. We have so much to make up for."
Her heart beating wildly with expectation, a radiant smile lighting her face, Lisa hurried and took a taxi.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lisa hardly had time to get her finger off the doorbell before Bobbie opened the door.
"Ah ma chere," she beamed, embracing Lisa warmly. "I am so glad you finally decided to come."
"So am I, Bobbie," Lisa said, although she really wasn't certain of it--at least not intellectually. She resented having her body control her mind, making her do this thing, give in when she didn't want to. Yet her pulse raced and she felt a warm glow deep inside her as she felt Bobbie's slim figure press up against her, smelled the heady fragrance in her hair.
Bobbie closed the door behind them. "Have you eaten?"
"No, but I'm not very hungry."
"Nonsense, you must eat, my pet, and I have just the thing for you. Nothing fancy, just some sandwiches and coffee. How does that sound?"
"Fine," Lisa told her.
She was slightly puzzled by Bobbie's attitude. If she'd called up a man and told him she was coming over, he'd probably whisk her away into the bedroom without even saying hello. She was also a little annoyed and disappointed by the reaction.
Bobbie swept on ahead of her into the living room, where a fire was crackling away in the fireplace and the room was filled with soft music. The lights were low, and the drapes hung open to show the lights of the city. Lisa smiled wryly to herself. It was the perfect setup for a seduction. She'd been through it a dozen times before, when some guy thought the atmosphere would help lower her barriers. Well, this time it wasn't a guy, it was a girl, and there were very few barriers.
"Care for a drink?"
Lisa nodded, and while Bobbie went to prepare them, she sat at the big couch in front of the fireplace and helped herself to some of the bread and lunchmeat scattered about on plates.
"You've got enough food here for a party," Lisa said. "Were you expecting company?"
"Only you, my sweet," Bobbie called. "And as for a party, well, anytime you're here with me, it's cause for celebration."
The artist returned with two drinks for them and sat down on the couch beside Lisa.
Bobbie raised her glass in a toast. "To us, ma chere, may you never stay away from me so long again."
Lisa raised her glass, then sipped at the liquid. "This is very good."
"Mais oui, ma chere" Bobbie said, pleased. "Everything I have is the very best."
Lisa blushed, realizing that Bobbie included her in that statement.- She covered her embarrassment by making a sandwich. Then she leaned back on the soft couch, closed her eyes, nibbled at the sandwich, and relaxed. She hadn't known that relaxing would be so easy, even with Bobbie. There was still the insistent tingling deep in her loins, but outwardly she felt more at ease now than she had in several days. She didn't open her eyes as Bobbie edged closer on the couch, and touched thighs. She felt the other girl's hands gently stroking her hair.
"Are you content, my pet?" Bobbie wanted to know.
"Yes," Lisa said softly. "It's--it's very nice being here with you like this."
"It could be like this always, my sweet," Bobbie said, taking her hand and kissing it. "I have the feeling that we two could be very compatible together. I could make you happy, and you could make me happy."
"That would be very nice," Lisa decided.
Bobbie's soft lips were brushing her cheek now. "You have no idea how I suffered during the time you were away. I thought about you every night I lay awake alone in my big bed, longing to touch you, to kiss you all over, to fondle and caress your lovely body."
Lisa gasped as Bobbie's lips came to rest on the pulsing hollow of her throat, and as the woman's hand covered one breast and gently kneaded it.
"I suppose I shouldn't have acted the way I did," she said, "but I had to think things over. It was all so strange, so new--"
"So wonderful?" Bobbie prompted.
"Yes, so wonderful."
"I understand, my sweet one. But let us not think of that. The past is dead. Meanwhile there is the marvelous present--and a simply glorious future."
Lisa felt very content with Bobbie's hands on her. The fact that it was another woman who loved her, who wanted to have sex with her, suddenly was of no consequence--except that it would be better. So what if the world thought it was unnatural. The world was wrong. It was the grabby men of the world who were the perverted ones, thinking only of themselves. Bobbie was kind and gentle and considerate, and that was what mattered. For awhile they talked and caressed each other. Lisa reached out and touched Bobbie's small breasts and moved her hands over the artist's thighs, spreading her own legs so Bobbie could have access to those parts of her that cried out for her touch. Their lips touched, locked, the tongues moving back and forth over the barrier of their teeth into the warm caverns of each other's mouths. It was stimulating, and yet at the same time it was restful, with both of them knowing this was merely the foreplay. They backed off and Bobbie poured them an other drink. She told of her first seduction--by an aunt she'd gone to stay with one weekend.
"I didn't even realize what had happened. My aunt had always been very friendly with me when she came to our place for a visit," Bobbie recalled. "You know, holding me, fondling me. Well, this time she really couldn't take her hands off me. I guess it was because the two of us were alone together, for the first time without the fear of interruption."
"But weren't you scared--even just a little?"
"Perhaps, a little. But she did it very slowly, very gently, moving just a little bit at a time. She gave me a massage to make me relax, she said, and she took off all my clothes and put me on the bed. I was quite young, only eleven, but my breasts were beginning to form and I felt very grown up. I did not even realize what she was doing until she had her head between my legs, and then the sensations were so lovely I did not feel frightened or even think to protest. After that, I visited my aunt more often. After a few years I was going to high school and I started being attracted to some of the other girls. In comparison, my old aunt looked like a witch, so I started to lose interest in her. When she got angry with me, I threatened to tell what she'd done to me, and that kept her quiet." Bobbie smiled. "You see, even at that tender age I knew that many people would not understand the love of one woman for another."
"I know. I'm having a difficult time of it myself," Lisa told her honestly.
Bobbie laughed and kissed her on the cheek.
"You have adapted very nicely so far. Especially since you've been exposed to a heterosexual life." The artist was thoughtful for a moment. "From what I've heard, having a man do those terrible things to you must be awful."
Lisa stared at her. "You mean you've never--"
"Never. When I was younger, I thought about it. I wondered if perhaps I might be missing something. I even went so far as to go out on a date with a man and let him take me up to his apartment."
"And what happened?"
"No sooner did I get into his apartment, he tried to tear my clothes off me," Bobbie said, shuddering at the recollection. "And then he took out that horrible looking thing of his and tried to rape me. I vomited all over him, and then ran as fast as I could. After that, I never tried any of those experiments again. I imagine it must be disgusting having a man crawling over your body."
The statement required comment, and Lisa was surprised that she had never really stopped to think of it that way. In retrospect, it didn't actually seem to be what the males did to her but the way they did it. Rather than discuss it, however, she settled for a simple, "Yes, it is." Besides, the alcohol was making her sleepier than she realized.
Bobbie laughed. "Ma chere, we have been sitting here chattering like magpies, when there are so many more important things to do."
Lisa wet her lips. "Yes."
"It is getting late, my sweet one. I suggest we take a bath and go right to bed."
Lisa nodded and got up, unhesitatingly. She tried to appear calm, but her heart was beating rapidly. This, she knew, was the moment of truth. Her mind felt dizzy, but not from the alcohol she'd consumed.
Bobbie led her into the bedroom, where she undressed the girl. Then she stepped back to survey the nude girl as she would a work of art.
"You are every bit as lovely as I remembered you that first night together, ma chere," she said reverently. "Each night since, I have pictured you like this, naked in my bedroom, soon to be naked in my arms."
She moved toward Lisa to take her in her arms and kiss her passionately, then bent to nip lightly at each breast. Then she stepped back and slipped quickly out of her clothes.
Bobbie guided her into the bathroom, where she filled the big tub with hot water and soapsuds. The two of them climbed in, letting the water cover them like a warm blanket. Lisa felt her body and mind relax completely as Bobbie's expert fingers rubbed her breasts and thighs. Then Lisa took her turn eagerly, soaping Bobbie's slim figure. As she rubbed the scented soap over the artist's flesh, she exulted at the way Bobbie's flesh responded with a golden glow, a hardening of nipples. Lisa felt an added excitement herself at the knowledge that she was building a passion within the other woman that was matching her own. They stepped dripping from the tub and toweled each other briskly, with swift sure strokes designed to dry and stimulate. By the time they reached the bedroom, Lisa could hardly breathe, so great was the passion building up inside her. She slipped under the cool sheets, while Bobbie put out the lights. Then the artist's body moved onto the bed and under the sheets to Lisa. Lisa shuddered with pleasurable anticipation as the female form pressed itself up tight against her.
"Do not be afraid, ma chere," Bobbie breathed. "I shall be gentle with you and teach you as my wonderful aunt did that day so long ago."
Bobbie began to kiss her. First on the mouth, then on the cheek and down over the throat. Her lips made a tingling pathway along the slope of one breast, kissing up, until the lips reached and engulfed one hardened nipple, where they sucked fervently. Then the mouth moved downward, across the slope of heaving belly. Bobbie had to twist about on the bed to accomplish this, but Lisa didn't mind. At first the young girl merely lay passively, enjoying the sensations of contact, but then as the desire began to increase with the growing heat of her loins, she started moving her body in the ageless rhythms of love.
Then Lisa said suddenly, "Wait."
Bobbie paused, not comprehending.
"I want to make love to you," Lisa said.
Before Bobbie could say anything, Lisa pulled her close, pressed her mouth fully on the woman's, snaked her tongue across the barrier of Bobbie's teeth into the warm, moist cavern, where she explored every recess. Then her attention moved on as she rained a string of kisses along the girl's shoulders until she came to Bobbie's heaving breasts. She took one in her hand and massaged it for a moment before lowering her head to engulf the slim hippie that rose like a tower between her lips and teeth. Bobbie sighed and moaned and sighed, "Ah, my precious one, you are so wonderful," as she stroked Lisa's hair.
Lisa smiled at the realization she was affecting the other woman as she herself had been affected--in fact, as she was becoming affected herself, even though she was the one doing the loving. She moved on, pausing to kiss the girl's navel, and then twisted about to kiss her way down into the dark pubic mat of tangled hair. Bobbie had perfumed herself there, and the sensuously musky odor filled Lisa's nostrils and delighted her. A moment later, her lips touched the opening between Bobbie's legs, which was soft and warm and already moist with desire.
"We shall make love together, my sweet," Bobbie said.
Lisa felt Bobbie shift under her so the artist's head was in the correct position for making oral love. Then she felt the girl's lips press gently against her most sensitive spot. Lisa took the cue and pressed her own mouth forward, doing as Bobbie did. Her tongue darted out and licked the salty dew and then plunged into the opening amid the folds of resilient flesh. The sensations were more than Lisa had ever known, even including the previous experience with Bobbie. She felt herself building higher and higher toward the peak, and then she began shaking, her entire body spasming from head to toe. She caught a glimpse of Bobbie's slim legs moving through the air over her head and then the flesh pressed in on her cheeks, but she didn't mind. She was all for it. The pleasure was so intense, so great, so wonderful, she wanted to fully give in return. Lisa felt the fire raging in her, out of control completely, and she made no effort to subdue it. This was her moment to give pleasure and to receive it at the same time, and she wanted to get every drop of joy out of it that she could. They hugged each other, bodies pressed tightly together, squirming nakedly, gasping and crying out as the final spasms started, as passion exploded and the bed shook, and Lisa felt all her tension drain away in the soft whimpering cries of release that went from her throat.
Afterward, Lisa reversed her position so they could lie in each others arms, limp, exhausted, sweaty, but utterly content.
"You learn very quickly, ma chere," Bobbie said, obviously pleased.
"That's because I have a good teacher," Lisa told her.
"It is a pleasure to teach such a wonderful pupil," Bobbie said, kissing her warmly on the lips. "Are you happy, my pet?"
"Completely," Lisa murmured.
She cuddled up to Bobbie's small breasts, closed her eyes and thought: Okay, so I'm a lesbian for sure now. It's my life. To hell with the world!
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning, Lisa felt more relaxed and cheerful than she had in a long time. She had half-expected to have feelings of guilt and shame over what had happened between her and Bobbie, and she was surprised and delighted that she had no such unsavory thoughts to spoil the wonderful way she felt. Bobbie was already awake, content with lying there holding her. The artist reached over and kissed Lisa full on the lips, and the younger girl responded with enthusiasm.
"How do you feel, my pet?" Bobbie asked her.
Lisa was happy to tell the truth. "Simply wonderful."
"And I will bet you were afraid you would hate yourself in the morning."
"Yes," Lisa admitted with a sigh, "but I think I'm ready to accept what I am--a lesbian, I mean."
"Not only to accept it, ma chere," Bobbie said, "but enjoy it. Sex is a wonderful thing, which must not be marred by preconceived notions."
Lisa was only too willing to admit this was true. She was also perfectly willing to let Bobbie's hands roam over her breasts and thighs as they began to do, followed swiftly, surely, by her mouth and lips. Lisa's skin tingled all over and she felt the warm, familiar glow permeate her insides. In a moment she was doing the same things to Bobbie that Bobbie was doing to her, and the bed rocked and moved as their entwined bodies thrashed about in the throes of love. When Lisa finally returned to her own apartment that afternoon, she was met with a knowing grin from her roommate Joyce.
"You spent the night with your friend," the blonde said. It was a statement, not a question.
Lisa stared at the girl, fear chilling her until she realized Joyce still thought Bobbie was a man. Relief flooded through her, yet at the same time she realized it would be always like this-- having this fear of discovery that she was a lesbian. Admitting it to herself was one thing; admitting it to others was quite another.
Joyce went on, "I wondered why you two hadn't seen each other for so long." When Lisa didn't volunteer any information, she asked, "Lovers' quarrel?"
"Yes. But we made up last night."
Joyce's pleased laughter trilled through the room. "I'd have liked to've seen that. I'll bet it was some party."
"It was," Lisa admitted, a little uneasily.
"By the way," Joyce said at a sudden thought, "Vince Balluck is in Montreal. He called today."
Lisa frowned. "I thought I told him--"
"Whoa, baby, he called me."
Lisa stared at her. "He called you?"
Joyce grunted. "That's not very complimentary, Lisa. After all, I'm not the worst looking female in the world."
"I--I didn't mean it that way--"
"I know, baby, I was just teasing you. Anyway, he tried to pretend he was interested in dating me, but I could tell he was just feeling me out about you. Are you positive you're not interested?"
Lisa remembered now her previous resolve to see Vince again in an effort to avoid seeing Bobbie. But now she wanted to see Bobbie, and Vince Balluck didn't fit into the picture at all.
"Positive," she said. "You can tell him I'm-- well, sort of engaged now."
Joyce breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good, because he asked me for a date to go out to Expo and I accepted."
An illogical pang of jealousy shot through Lisa. She didn't expect or understand the feeling, but she was very definitely annoyed by it. Then she decided this proved Vince was just like other males she'd known. He knew Joyce was an easy mark and was taking advantage of that fact.
"You're not mad at me, are you, honey?" Joyce said, concerned.
"Don't be silly. I'm perfectly content with what I've got. Do whatever you want with Vince."
Joyce grinned and licked her lips. "Believe me, honey, he's going to get the works!"
The annoyance continued to plague her, which fact made Lisa even more annoyed. Joyce was a little annoyed, too--by Lisa's refusal to say anything specific about her new "boyfriend." She was eager to know all about him, and it was difficult for Lisa to keep referring to Bobbie as "he" all the time. She was deathly afraid she might slip. It was obvious she wouldn't be able to take Joyce into her confidence. Joyce had already expressed her horror of Hugh's lesbian sister and would probably flee the apartment, fearful that Lisa would try to seduce her. Which, Lisa decided, might very well happen--if she weren't careful. Of course, she could always go live with Bobbie. The lesbian had hinted at such a relationship during their stay together. Lisa considered this as a possibility. After all, lesbian affairs were probably as long or as brief as heterosexual ones--and certainly they were likely to be less complicated. There were many aspects of the lesbian life, Lisa realized, of which she probably wasn't aware. Plenty of time for that, she decided. What she really began to have pangs of guilt about, however, was the fact that she wasn't looking around for a job as diligently as she should. If she ran out of money, she might have to move in with Bobbie after all. Lisa wanted the choice to be her own and not dictated by necessity. So the remainder of the afternoon she followed some leads to jobs, had interviews and left applications. She was tired by the time she arrived at the apartment that evening, so exhausted that she fell asleep on the couch. During the sleep she had a dream. She was in bed with Bobbie, making love to the artist. Then Bobbie disappeared and Lisa was naked and surrounded by her relatives and friends back home, who crowded around her and pointed fingers of accusation at her. Her mother's face hovered before her, the old woman's lips curling in disgust.
"Pervert!" her mother accused. "Butch! Dyke! Rotten queer!"
Lisa wakened, a cry issuing from her throat. Someone's hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her. She tried to twist away from them, then stopped as she realized it was her roommate.
"Take it easy, honey," Joyce said, concerned. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare."
Lisa collapsed, sobbing, in Joyce's arms. "It was. It was terrible."
"It's all right, baby," Joyce said soothingly, holding Lisa close, kissing her forehead. "It's all right."
Joyce was nude, as usual, and Lisa's head was resting on her breast, with the nipple scant inches from her mouth. Lisa felt her breath catch, her lips go dry at the closeness. Then Joyce released her and stood up. "I was about to take a shower. The reason I came in was because the phone was ringing nearly off the hook."
"The phone."
"You were dead to the world so you didn't hear it. It's for you. Some woman."
Lisa stared at her. "Who?"
Joyce shrugged. "Answer it and find out. I don't know. She's got an accent. French-Canadian probably. Maybe it's about a job."
Lisa had a good idea who it was. Joyce didn't seem overly concerned about the fact that it was a woman. She was glad Bobbie hadn't given her name--if it was Bobbie. And it was, of course.
"How'd you like to go out to La Ronde tonight?" Bobbie asked.
"Fine," Lisa told her.
"C'est bon, ma chere," Bobbie enthused. "I hope you do not mind if a couple of my friends come with us. I wanted them to meet you."
"Of course not. I'd be delighted to meet your friends."
"Believe me, my pet, the pleasure will be theirs. Do you want me to pick you up?"
"Yes," Lisa said, adding quickly, "but not here. I'll meet you in front of the bus station on Dorchester Boulevard."
"I understand, ma chere," Bobbie said. "About eight o'clock?"
"I'll be there," Lisa promised, and hung up.
She looked up to see Joyce in the doorway, still stark naked. She recalled how pleasant it had been when the blonde's huge breast had rested on her arm only a moment before.
"Going out for a night on the town, eh?" Joyce said.
Lisa decided to be honest with her--up to a point. "Nope, just going out with some girl friends, probably to the amusement center at the Expo."
Joyce grunted. "A hen party--with a hot stud like your Bobbie panting after you. You've got to be kidding, honey."
Lisa gave the blonde a grin she didn't feel. "You're the one who told me to keep him guessing, remember?" With that, she flounced off to get dressed.
* * *
A short time later she walked down the few blocks to Dorchester Boulevard and the huge bus terminal. Bobbie was right on time. The foreign sedan swooped down along the curb, and the front door opened. Lisa quickly slipped in, accepted Bobbie's fond embrace and the brief touching of her lips on her mouth. Only when they drove off through the thick traffic did Lisa realize there were two girls in the back seat. As they drove along, Bobbie introduced them. One of the girls was Lorraine, a stocky girl in her late twenties, with hard features without makeup, and short cropped sandy hair--the epitome, Lisa realized, of the "butch" in lesbian relationships. The other girl was slim and willowy, dark-complected, with angular but attractive features, who was introduced as Nancy.
Nancy--at the sound of that name, Lisa felt her blood run cold. Her roommate Joyce had told her Hugh's lesbian sister was named Nancy. If this was the same girl, and if she told Hugh she'd met a new girl named Lisa, friend of Bobbie's--and if Hugh ever told Joyce about it...
As they drove out to the Expo fairgrounds, the conversation was at a minimum. Lisa could hear some affectionate whisperings and nuzzlings from the back seat. She didn't look around, although she was anxious to see if there was a resemblance between Nancy and Hugh, as Joyce indicated there was. Plenty of time for that.
Meanwhile, Bobbie's hand stole onto Lisa's thighs, then up inside under the skirt to where her legs joined. Lisa felt strangely thrilled and yet relaxed at the same time. She was disappointed when Bobbie pulled the car into the parking lot near the Victoria Bridge and braked. They all piled out of the car and started walking toward the gate, among the milling people around them. Lisa stole a glance at Nancy, and the dark-haired girl gave her a warm smile in return. They stood in line at the gate, paid for their tickets, and went down the stairs to wait for the Expo Express to take them by rail along the dipper-shaped route from the Cite du Havre, over the tip of the He Sainte-Helene, past the perimeter of the He Notre-Dame and then upward to the other end of the He Sainte-Helene, where the huge amusement center, La Ronde was located.
On the express train, Lisa and Bobbie sat on seats facing the other couple, and Lisa had a better chance to study the girl Nancy. The dark-haired girl was very pretty, with a ready smile and bright eyes. Lisa's eyes wandered over the girl's face, she found Nancy looking back at her in the same way. Quickly, Lisa turned away to look out the window. Behind them, the apartment houses built for the Habitat exhibition resembled a child's blocks thrown haphazardly on the landscape. A moment later they were crossing the bridge spanning the St. Lawrence River heading toward the first of the two largely-man-made islands constructed to accommodate the Expo. As they passed over the lights of the pavilions, Lisa saw the huge geodesic bubble that was her own country's, certainly the most distinctive building at the exposition. She felt Bobbie's thigh pressing warmly against hers, and she pressed back, thrilling at the secret contact. Everyone around--except their two lesbian friends, of course--would think the four of them were just women out for a night away from their husbands.
A few minutes later, the express pulled to a stop, and the passengers surged to their feet and crowded out onto the platform in the cool night air. Lisa paused to look across Dolphin Lake, with the lights of Montreal reflected in the rippling waters. Then Bobbie took her arm and guided her down the stairs to the amusement area. The main .part of the Expo--the national pavilions, the exhibits--didn't close until ten o'clock, so most of the visitors were obviously staying in those sections, saving the time until two in the morning for La Ronde. Nevertheless it was still crowded, mostly with people on foot, also with three-wheeled bicycle cabs darting in and out of the traffic with incredible skill. They went at once to the Gyrotron, a vast skeletal structure surrounding a pyramid, looking like something a giant child had fashioned from an equally giant erector set. They strapped themselves in, two to a seat; Bobbie and Lisa went on one, while Nancy and Lorraine took the one immediately in front. The ride started with a jerk that took Lisa's breath away, but immediately Bobbie's protective arm circled her. A door opened in the base of the pyramid, swallowing the pair in front, and then it was their turn. The chair went into darkness and began rising perceptibly. Around them pseudo-stars shone in the darkness, and planets spun on silent courses. A spaceship rose into the sky and disappeared into distance. A celestial music played as their chair rose higher and higher. Bobbie's thighs pressed tighter against hers, and the artist's hand took hers warmly. At one point, the other girl even leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Lisa looked around in alarm, fearing someone might be able to see them. But they were rising almost straight up now, and the occupants of the chair above and the chair below would not be able to see them. Then the chair leveled off and came out into the real world at the top of the pyramid. The lights of the fairground lay at Lisa's feet and in the distance the illuminated buildings of Montreal. Then the chair lurched again, and she stared ahead of her as they headed toward the open, fanged mouth of some mechanical monster. They went into the mouth and down the throat into the simulated molten depths of some hellish underworld. And a moment later they were out in the open again, safe on terra firma. Lisa was completely enthralled by it.
Bobbie clutched her hand, laughing. "How did you like it, my pet? You were not scared, I hope?"
"It was fun," Lisa admitted. "I haven't been on rides like that since I was a kid."
For the next two hours they took in most of the rides La Ronde had to offer. One that thrilled Lisa especially was a ride in a two-seater dugout made from a log and sent rushing along a wooden trough filled with man-made rapids, the dizzying trek climaxed by a brief pause at the top of a waterfall before plunging over and down amidst the spray of water and the shrieks of the riders.
Afterward they paused, out of breath and weary, at the edge of Dolphin Lake, where streams of water, illuminated by multicolored underwater lights, shot high into the air and made to dance to the music of an orchestra nearby. A cool wind sprang up across the water, and Lisa's shivering was answered by Bobbie, who pressed up close behind her and held her waist and kissed the back of her neck. Fireworks exploded and sent fiery ribbons across the night sky.
"I feel like those fireworks, ma chere," Bobbie husked into her ear. "I am ready to explode with my love for you. Will you stay with me tonight?"
Wordlessly, Lisa nodded. She closed her eyes and felt the golden glow of anticipation warm her loins. Though it was early, when Bobbie suggested to the group that they leave, there was no opposition from either Lorraine or Nancy. They were probably tired from all the effort-- besides which, it seemed to Lisa that Lorraine's pawing of her girlfriend indicated she was in a hurry to be alone with the girl so they could become more intimate. Lisa felt a touch of revulsion at the thought, and she was very glad that Bobbie acted more subtly in her displays of affection in public.
They were on the Expo Express about to head back when Lisa got a shock. Looking out the window, she caught a glimpse of her roommate, Joyce, laughing and hanging onto the arm of some man. Lisa felt a cold chill replace the warmth Bobbie had instilled. Suppose Joyce had seen Bobbie kissing her, holding her hand and her waist? Bobbie glanced at her, aware that something was wrong but not wanting to ask what it was, as though sensing it might cause some embarrassment for Lisa in front of the others.
* * *
They drove in silence to Bobbie's place. Lorraine and Nancy didn't come in, but said goodnight outside. Lorraine kissed her rather brusquely, but Nancy's lips seemed to linger over her mouth. Then both of them were driving off down the street in their own car, and Bobbie was opening the door to her house.
Inside, Bobbie said, "You wish to tell me about it, my pet, or shall we have a drink first?"
"Tell you about what?"
"About what is troubling you."
Lisa hesitated. "I can't stay with you tonight, Bobbie. I just can't stay with you."
Bobbie's eyebrows rose. "And why not?"
"Because I saw Joyce at the Expo. I don't know whether or not she saw me, but I can't take the chance. I told her I was going out to La Ronde with some of the girls, and she may even have seen me there with all of you. I couldn't very well tell her I had a date with my boyfriend and then spent the night with him."
Bobbie made herself comfortable on the couch. "And why do you have to tell her anything at all? She does not run your life."
"But she might get suspicious. I wouldn't want her to think that I--well, that I--"
"That you are a lesbian," Bobbie finished for her with a sigh. She shook her head. "My poor little child, you have still not reconciled yourself to the fact that you are what you are. What difference could it possibly make to you even if Joyce knew? It might even be better if she did, so-"
"Oh, no, she mustn't," Lisa said quickly. She sat down beside the other woman. "You've got to understand, Bobbie, I can't just kick over all the traces so soon. I accept the fact that I'm a lesbian, but I can't have other people knowing it--not yet anyway."
Bobbie smiled and leaned to kiss her. "All right, ma chere, if you insist on pretending for awhile, I shall not dissuade you, although I am understandably impatient for you." She drew back, and the smile grew as she let her eyes wander in satisfaction over Lisa's body. "Can you spend a few hours with me anyway?"
"Yes, of course."
Bobbie rose and pulled Lisa to her feet. "Good. Then since we have so little time, my sweet, let us not waste a precious second of it."
Unprotesting, Lisa allowed Bobbie to lead her into the dimly lit bedroom. They didn't shower this time. Bobbie's eyes were gleaming impatiently, and Lisa herself was beginning to feel that wonderful warm glow creeping into her expectant loins. They kissed lingeringly, their hands roaming over each other's bodies as though discovering them for the very first time. Then they undressed each other, slowly at first, then eagerly, until they were naked. Their bodies met and locked in a passionate embrace. Their mouths opened to receive each other's tongue. Bobbie broke away, gasping. "Ah, ma chere, you have a way of setting me on fire."
Lisa felt herself on fire too, and there was only one way to put out the flame. Still embracing, they fell together onto the huge bed in a wild tangle of ecstatically thrashing legs and arms. Breasts mashed, hips ground. Lisa instinctively began kissing, caressing, touching, doing all those things to Bobbie that Bobbie was doing to her. The spasms of fulfillment came swiftly, surely, filling Lisa with a more complete sense of pleasure than she had ever known.
It was marred by one unpleasant thought that kept rising, unbidden and unwanted, to plague her: Suppose Joyce had seen them. Suppose she suspected. Suppose she knew!
CHAPTER TEN
When Lisa returned to her apartment that night--or rather next morning, since it was two o'clock--Joyce had not returned. Lisa breathed a sigh of relief, for she wasn't quite ready to face the blonde and her inevitable questions. She undressed and climbed into bed, and dozed. The sounds of her roommate stirred her into wakefulness, but Lisa had the presence of mind to keep her eyes closed and pretend sleep. After awhile, she opened her eyelids ever so slightly, and saw the blonde girl walking around the room in the nude, her buttocks twitching saucily, her big breasts bouncing. Lisa couldn't help but compare her to Bobbie, whom she had just experienced so intimately. There was no question that Joyce came out ahead in the body department. Her breasts were certainly much fuller, and her torso sturdier, and her entire body glowed with an animal health that the lesbian's thin figure didn't possess. Watching the other girl, Lisa couldn't help but imagine the feel of those huge soft breasts up against her, the unmistakably hot thighs pressing close. She felt the familiar glow of perspiration film her body as she thought of it. Then Joyce got into the other twin bed, and reached out to turn off the nightstand lamp, which brought darkness to the room. Lisa lay awake for awhile and then dozed again. Sometime later she awakened from a dream in which Vince Balluck was making violent love to her, with his rough hands bruising her breasts and thighs, his sharp teeth nipping at her nipples and drawing blood, while the great male battering ram of his body plunged and hammered at her. She stared into the darkness, her body drenched with sweat, trembling for a moment until she realized where she was. Her mouth felt dry, so she rose and pattered across the room, into the corridor, to the kitchen where she poured herself a cooling glass of water. When she returned to the bedroom, she paused, staring.
Moonlight was filtering gently through the top of the blinds, making Joyce's nude body seem to shimmer enticingly. The blonde's twistings had thrown off the covers, and she lay completely exposed, her hair splayed on the pillow, her arms flung wide, her toes pointing at opposite corners of the room. Lisa stared, hypnotized by the lovely sight. She could hardly breathe, though her heart was pumping at an unaccustomed tempo. Her mouth felt like cotton again, and she felt a warmth seeping into her loins. She knew it was crazy, but she moved silently toward the sprawled girl, her eyes feasting on the openly displayed female charms. She stopped beside the bed, unable to tear her eyes off the nude girl, her fingers itching. All she had to do was reach out and touch those golden thighs. All she had to do was bend over and mouth the succulent nipples begging to be loved.
Joyce moaned suddenly and twisted on the bed. Quickly Lisa moved back, her trance broken by the movement, and hurried to her own bed. Once there she found herself shivering, but not with cold. It had been close that time. So very close.
* * *
The next morning Joyce said, "I caught a glimpse of you out at La Ronde last night."
"I saw you there," Lisa said, forcing herself to be calm, "but not until I was already on the Express." She hesitated. "I could have introduced you to my friends."
Joyce grunted. "I can't understand you going out with a bunch of women when you've got yourself a hot stud like this Bobbie panting over you."
"I need a rest once in a while," Lisa said, hoping her smile seemed genuine.
Joyce considered it. "I suppose so. I keep forgetting everybody's ovaries aren't as incandescent as mine are twenty-four hours a day."
Lisa laughed. She hesitated, then said, "I'll probably be seeing him soon--maybe tonight."
"He must be quite a guy."
"Oh, he is," Lisa said, pleased that she was able to say "he" without any hesitation now.
"A real wild one in bed, I suppose," Joyce persisted.
"Well, I've never had more enjoyable sex experiences with anyone," Lisa laughed, "if that's what you mean."
"That's what I mean. I'm dying to meet him, and I wish you wouldn't be so mysterious about it." At a sudden thought, she said, "You're not afraid I'll try to rape him myself, are you?"
Lisa shook her head. "No, of course not. It's just that I've never felt this way about someone before, and it's all so new that I--well, I just want to keep him to myself for awhile first."
"I understand, baby. Do you think he'll pop the question?"
Lisa stared at her, not comprehending. "The question?"
"You know. Marriage. Honeymoon. Kids. The family bit."
Lisa felt her cheeks turn red. "No. I--I don't think it'll come to that. I mean, our relationship is just a warm, sexual one. We haven't discussed anything beyond that."
Joyce reached out to squeeze her arm. "Well, for your sake, I hope the guy isn't just out for a temporary piece of tail. A stiff cock doesn't have a conscience. You're a very sensitive girl, baby, and I'd hate to see you burned."
"I won't be," Lisa said, a little annoyed by the turn of conversation.
"With me," Joyce went on, "it doesn't matter. Sex is all I'm after. I screw around and I enjoy it, but I run like hell when a guy starts getting that marriage look in his eyes. But you're different. You're the type to settle down and be a wife and mother. I have the feeling you can be hurt quite easily, and I wouldn't like to see that happen."
"I won't be hurt," Lisa told her confidently.
"This time it's different," she replied evenly.
It was Joyce's turn to hesitate. "Okay, so marriage is out of the question for the moment. There's another thing. I--uh--hope you're taking precautions."
Lisa laughed as she realized what Joyce meant. "He's not going to get me pregnant, don't worry."
Joyce grunted. "Where have I heard that before? Just be sure you keep your guard up and don't slip up. It doesn't take much. Those sperm cells are the speediest little devils when you don't want them to be."
Lisa's annoyance rankled her. "Damn it, Joyce, I can't get pregnant. He's--he's sterile."
"Sure he is. I wish I had a dollar for every mother who fell for that old line."
Lisa forced herself to be calm and promise Joyce she would be exceptionally careful. There was no point in arguing about it. She couldn't very well tell her roommate there was no possibility of pregnancy because her lover was a woman!
* * *
That afternoon, Lisa went with Bobbie out to the Expo grounds. The theme of the fair was: MAN AND HIS WORLD. Subdivisions were: Man the Explorer, Man the Producer, Man the Creator, Man in the Community, and Man the Provider.
"As you can see," Bobbie pointed out wryly, "it was the male of the species who decided all these categories, ma chere. If it had been up to me, the theme would have been WOMAN AND HER WORLD."
They went first into the Labyrinth, and walked along walkways set between mirrored glass prisms to a multistaged arena where five screens showed simultaneous movies of man's exploration of his environment from caveman to spaceman. During all this, Bobbie's hand rested in Lisa's. It was gentle and comforting, and in the darkness Lisa knew that no one saw. Then they took the express over to the next island, most of it man-made, in the St. Lawrence River to go through the national pavilions. They wandered through the geodesic plastic bubble that was the United States entry, then across the bridge to the imposing Russian exhibit filled with models of industrial technology and Sputniks hanging on invisible wires from the ceiling. They went into the Lanterna Magika show which combined live action with projected movies and slides with such precise timing, it was often difficult for Lisa to determine where one ended and another began. Then Bobbie took her to a nearby French restaurant, where" they lingered over an early evening dinner.
"You haven't shown me your paintings yet," Lisa pouted.
"I was saving the best for last, my sweet," Bobbie told her with a smile. "I hope you will be so impressed you will pose for me."
"I may have to take you up on your kind offer," Lisa said with a sigh. "I mean to pay me for posing. I'm afraid my money is getting pretty low." She added quickly, "That is if you still want me--and if you let me work for the money."
Bobbie patted her affectionately on the arm. "But of course, ma chere, I shall work you just like any other model." She winked. "But afterwards... " Afterwards, Lisa knew, they would make beautiful, passionate lesbian love. All night.
After the dinner, Bobbie took Lisa to see some of the paintings.
* * *
"They're--they're wonderful," Lisa enthused, meaning it.
They were housed in a small building near the Canadian pavilion, representing artwork of craftsmen in various countries. It was no surprise to Lisa to discover that Bobbie's subject matter consisted of female nudes very realistically represented. She felt a pang of jealousy as she wondered if the artist had had affairs with all these girls.
"I am so glad you like them, my sweet," Bobbie beamed. "By the way, I hope you do not mind, but Lorraine and Nancy said they were going to stop at my place this evening."
"Mind? Of course not. Why should I mind?"
"Well, you seemed a little uncomfortable with them last time, and I thought--"
"Nonsense. I like them. Both of them" But especially Nancy, the thought came swiftly. She was glad Bobbie didn't see the blush that came to redden her cheeks. There was an obvious attraction between the two of them, and both Nancy and Lisa knew it.
* * *
They had hardly arrived at Bobbie's house when the two lesbians arrived. Lorraine's greeting was somewhat gruff, but Nancy smiled warmly and gave Lisa her hand for what seemed like an overlong time, squeezing it gently before letting go.
Bobbie made some drinks and built a fire in the fireplace, and then they all sat around talking. They spoke of relationships and people that Lisa had never heard before, and she felt left out. On impulse she told them of the remark Joyce has said earlier that day, about her lover making her pregnant. Lorraine rolled back on the couch, hysterical with laughter. "That's funny," she gasped, her face red with merriment. "The idea of Bobbie making you pregnant." She nudged Bobbie in the ribs. "Never happened to any of your other girl friends did it, Bobbie?"
Lisa felt another pang. Just how many other girl friends had there been, she wondered. Not that it mattered, she decided on the heels of that thought. After all, Bobbie had led her own life before she met Lisa. She thought the artist seemed a little put out by the remark although she said nothing. Nancy merely favored her with a continuing warm smile of invitation.
"I wonder what my roommate would think," Lisa went on, "if she knew just what chance I had of getting pregnant."
Lorraine hesitated, then said, "I don't want to sound out of line, girls, but isn't it a little strange--I mean Lisa going with Bobbie and yet living with another girl?"
"You mean," Lisa said slowly, "you think I'm having an affair with Joyce?"
Lorraine shifted uncomfortably on the couch, obviously regretting she'd brought up the subject. "Well, after all, you're living with the girl, sharing the same bedroom--"
"But different beds," Lisa pointed out. She shook her head. "No, Joyce is--I guess the word is straight. Joyce goes after men only, and I wouldn't have a chance with her if I wanted to--which, incidentally, I don't."
She was surprised but pleased at the sincere sound of that last lie.
"And she doesn't even know that you're gay?" Lorraine persisted.
Lisa gulped. It was the first time anyone had referred to her homosexual status so matter-of-factly. She said, "Joyce doesn't even suspect. If she did, she wouldn't be my roommate."
"Well," Lorraine said, "I suppose it makes a good front--if you need one."
Bobbie deftly changed the conversation to something less controversial, and it remained that way for the remainder of the evening. They drank and listened to music from the hi-fi. Lorraine did some necking with Nancy, and even Lisa didn't feel particularly embarrassed when Bobbie pulled her close and impulsively kissed her.
Later, when Lorraine and Nancy had gone, Bobbie led Lisa into the bedroom, where the two women proceeded to undress each other. Bobbie's soft lips were moving over Lisa's body, kissing each naked spot as it came uncovered. When they were both nude, they fell on the big bed and twisted and turned in a fleshly entanglement of thrashing arms and legs, breasts and thighs. Lisa felt her body come alive beneath the expert caresses and kisses of the other woman, and with renewed inspiration she proceeded to give Bobbie the same thing the artist was giving her. Their lovemaking was perfect, with nothing to mar it, Lisa's passion rose steadily without a break, building, building to the peak, where her ecstasy exploded in a spasm of delight and fulfillment.
"C'est magnifique, ma chere" Bobbie breathed in her ear when it was over. She hugged her close and murmured, "Je Vadore."
"Bobbie," Lisa said thoughtfully, after awhile. "Have you had many lovers before me?"
"A few. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering. What do you mean a few? A few hundred?"
Bobbie laughed and propped herself on one elbow. "You are jealous, my sweet?"
"Maybe," Lisa admitted.
Bobbie lay back and hugged her close once more. "Anyway, it does not matter. There has never been anybody like you, and there never will."
Lisa closed her eyes and smiled. Bobbie's evasive answer had told her what she'd wanted to know. Now she, Lisa, needn't feel guilty that during their entire lovemaking session, she'd been imagining that the girl she was having sex with was not Bobbie at all, but the dark-haired, slim beauty that was Hugh's sister--Nancy!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
During the days that followed, Lisa had never been happier. She presented the picture of contentment, and her face and manner showed the brisk enthusiasm and zest she now felt for life. Joyce noted this and commented on it, attributing it to Lisa's newly-found sex life with her "boyfriend."
Lisa was busy enjoying her lesbian relationship, but the problem of money came up again, at which point Bobbie insisted on the young girl posing for her and also insisted on paying for it--so Lisa consented. She posed nude for the artist, and afterward Bobbie always took the younger girl into the bedroom where they made passionate love. For some reason, however, it was Joyce who started having troubles. Her regular boyfriend Hugh had to fly out to California to work on a project out there. Another guy she had been seeing regularly eloped with another girl. And her casual pickup score dropped to almost zero. There were several days in a row when Joyce had no sex at all, except with herself in the bathroom, and she paced the apartment like a nervous animal.
Lisa grew annoyed with watching her. "For Pete's sake, Joyce, why don't you go out to the Expo. You could probably meet somebody there."
Joyce laughed bitterly. "You'd think so, wouldn't you. But I tried that last night and was almost arrested. Besides, it seemed that everyone there had a wife or a girlfriend. It's funny the way it goes--either there are so many I have to turn them away, or there aren't any at all."
Lisa hesitated. "How about Vince?"
"Vince Balluck?" Her voice betrayed her surprise at the suggestion. "He hasn't called in awhile. Maybe I will give him a buzz."
Joyce stretched out on the couch and dialed a number. Lisa tried to pretend lack of interest in what was happening. If she failed, her blonde roommate was too engrossed in her own problems to notice. By Lisa's standards, the blonde was overdressed--wearing a filmy bra that hardly contained her large breasts and a skimpy panty that outlined everything she had. Lisa could sense the sexual desire seething beneath the surface of Joyce's body, and she thought of what Lorraine has said the other night--about the two girls sharing the same apartment, the same bedroom, together. Joyce was filled with sexual excitement, and it would be so simple for Lisa to give her the relief she so desperately wanted.
The two of them could just go into the bedroom and take off their clothing. The blonde wouldn't have to do a thing, actually, just lie back and enjoy the touch of Lisa's hands and mouth on her nipples and up between her thighs. Just thinking of it made Lisa shudder with pleasure. But she forced back the thought. It was mad to even think of approaching Joyce with something like that. The girl was a nymphomaniac, but it was a man's lips and touch that she craved, and lesbian lovemaking would only revolt her. Still, it was too bad, Lisa decided, as she let her eyes roam over the full breasts, the smooth belly, the golden thighs, the slim tapering legs--and she felt tiny prickles of desire move all over her skin.
Joyce replaced the phone. "No answer. After you gave him the bum's rush, he probably started going out with some other girl."
"That's too bad," Lisa said, adding quickly, "for you, I mean," so Joyce wouldn't misinterpret her statement.
"Maybe I will go out to Expo for awhile," Joyce decided. "Hanging around here isn't going to do me any good."
Lisa opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. She watched while Joyce started pulling on her clothes, wishing the girl would take them off instead. She hated to see those lush curves being covered up. Joyce's luscious, tempting body was so near--and yet so far from her. Lisa felt a glow of perspiration cover her own body as she watched, clenching her fingers with a frustration of her own.
Joyce left, and Lisa went right into the shower, where she let the icy cold water pelt her naked body, bringing down her temperature to something more livable. The sight of Joyce's nakedness and the knowledge that the blonde was in sexual heat had done things to her. It was too bad Bobbie had begged off their date for this evening. The artist had said she'd had a business appointment, something special. Lisa couldn't help but wonder if it really were business--or some sort of lesbian monkey business she was up to. She busied herself watching television and managed .to get her mind off her troubles until Joyce returned. The blonde was still breathless, her cheeks were flushed, her lipstick mussed, and her hair tangled. A contented smile was on her face. Lisa couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I guess you made out all right. You look like the cat that ate the canary."
Joyce licked her lips reminiscently. "It wasn't the canary I ate. It was the whole aviary."
Lisa gave her a puzzled look. "What does that mean?"
"Would you believe that I became a whore for a night?"
Lisa stared at her.
Joyce nodded. "Sure. I'd heard about this whorehouse outside of town, and I got an urge to go out there. The madame was suspicious of me at first, but I talked her into it. I said she could give the girls a rest, that I'd take on all comers--and I'd turn over all the money to her."
"I--I can't believe it," Lisa said, stunned.
"I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner," Joyce said. "You'd be surprised at the variety of customers--all ages, colors, and sizes."
"But becoming a whore--"
"I didn't become a whore!" Joyce snapped angrily. "I didn't take any money for it."
"But you slept with men you'd never met before," Lisa protested.
Joyce shrugged. "So what? I always sleep with men on the first date anyway." She gave Lisa a sharp look. "But I didn't take any money for it. That's the difference between me and a whore, and don't you forget it."
Joyce seemed especially sensitive about it, so Lisa didn't bother to pursue the point, although it seemed to her that the blonde was splitting hairs. However, if it satisfied her, that was the important thing. Lisa knew she couldn't very well criticize her roommate when she herself was a practicing lesbian.
"It's really quite invigorating," Joyce said. "You should try it some time."
"Not me," Lisa told her. "I'm happy with what I've got."
"That's right. You and your mystery man Bobbie. You're a lucky girl, Lisa."
Lisa could only agree with her. The nights she'd spent with Bobbie were sheer paradise. She was happier and more content that she had ever been in her life.
The phone rang, and Joyce made a move toward it.
"I'll get it," Lisa said and beat her to it. Fortunately, because it was Bobbie.
"Can you come over now?" Bobbie wanted to know.
"I don't know. It's pretty late."
"It'll be our last night together, ma chere, for awhile. I have to go away."
Lisa was speechless for a moment. "Where?"
"Not far. Chicago."
"But-but why?"
"In order to earn a living, my sweet," Bobbie said gently. "I have a chance to put on a one-woman show of my paintings in one of their best galleries, and I have to be there."
"For how long?"
"Oh, a week perhaps."
"I wish you'd told me sooner," Lisa pouted.
"I did not know this until tonight. It was the business I was discussing. I am happy you will miss me, my sweet. I will miss you, too. But we can telephone each other and write letters. Meanwhile--"
"I'll be right over," Lisa said.
Joyce grinned at her. "Bobbie," she said. It was a statement, not a question.
Lisa verified it. "Bobbie," she said.
She got ready in a hurry and rushed out of the apartment without even saying good-bye. A cab whisked her across Montreal to Bobbie's place, and all the way Lisa was just beginning to realize more and more how much she had come to depend on the artist.
* * *
Bobbie met her at the door. "I wish you didn't have to leave," Lisa mourned.
Bobbie shrugged helplessly. "It cannot be helped, ma chere. Meanwhile, let us make love so it will last until I return."
They went into the bedroom and undressed. During the moments that followed, Lisa let herself go. She did everything she could to show this lovely woman how much she loved her. Her mouth, her tongue, her hands were everywhere on Bobbie's succulent, responding body--and Bobbie loved her in return with an equal passion. Between sessions they clung desperately to each other. Finally, Lisa fell asleep from exhaustion. When she awakened, the sun was streaming warmly into the room and Bobbie had gone, leaving a note. Lisa cried over the love message.
She was certain this was going to be the longest week she'd ever experienced. Their love-making had become as important to her, as necessary, as eating and sleeping. She loved Bobbie's female touch. She craved a woman's soft, gentle, knowing caress, just as Joyce craved her own kind of sex. The thought of her roommate Joyce brought with it a further thought. With Bobbie gone, there would be no really suitable way of releasing her pent-up emotions, to still the desire she felt for another woman's body. Would she be able to stay away from the voluptuous nymphomaniac whose bedroom she shared?
CHAPTER TWELVE
The first night without Bobbie was not so bad. The second was more difficult. The third was a nightmare. Lisa consoled herself with the thought that it would be only for a week. That wasn't long to wait for her lover, especially considering how long she had waited before she'd had the good fortune to meet Bobbie. Lisa was annoyed with herself that she had gotten so dependent upon another woman's caresses--but annoyed or not, the feelings of unrequited passion persisted. Bobbie wrote everyday from Chicago, telling of what was happening, saying how much she missed Lisa. Lisa also wrote every day, telling how the insurance company had finally come through and given her a clerk-typist job. But letters were not like the real thing, so on the sixth day of Bobbie's absence, she started counting the hours. Then a letter came saying Bobbie would have to stay longer--another week at least, perhaps ten days. By that time, Lisa was ready to climb the walls.
"Your lover must really have the hots for you, honey," Joyce said, amused by the steady stream of correspondence from Chicago.
"Yes," Lisa admitted, "I suppose he does."
She hid the letters in the bottom of her night-stand drawer, under some magazines. She knew she should throw them out, but she didn't have the heart to. Yet she couldn't just leave them lying about, or Joyce's natural curiosity would get the better of her. Any one of the letters would swiftly destroy the blonde's belief that Lisa's lover was a male.
Lisa lay awake at night, longing to feel Bobbie's hot breath roaming over her breasts, craving to feel the artist's tongue invading her thighs, desiring to feel the other woman's expert fingers touch her in the most intimate of places. She was sure that it wasn't merely sex, but that love was involved. Nevertheless, the sex had become very important and not having it was a terrible thing. And now she had to wait another week, perhaps even longer.
The pace of Joyce's sexual conquests had picked up somewhat, but not as much as she wished. She still remembered her one glorious night as a make-believe whore (or was it make-believe, Lisa wondered) and was not satisfied with less. Often, during the night, the girl would toss restlessly, tossing aside the covers, twisting her pelvis, running her own hands up under her breasts to massage and squeeze them, and she'd moan and reach down between her legs, probably dreaming that some man was making love to her. Seeing that golden body in the throes of passion increased Lisa's need all the more, and she would reach down to increase her passion to the point of no return and thus receive physical, if not emotional, satisfaction.
As the days crept maddeningly by, her physical torment grew. She was constantly aware of the throbbing deep in her loins crying out for a release that could not come. She spent her days in frantic pursuit of the workaday world of the insurance company in an effort to still the painful ache she felt gnawing at her insides.
Joyce seemed to know it. "You've really got it, haven't you, honey?"
"Got what?"
"The sex urge." Before Lisa could protest, the blonde said, "Look, honey, don't try to kid me. I've been through some bad periods myself."
"I'll get over it."
"Maybe. And maybe you don't have to."
"Which means what?"
Joyce shrugged. "Look, honey, I know you're in love with this Bobbie of yours, but believe me, men are all alike. His cock comes up stiff and he has to shove it somewhere. Here you are pining away for him, and what's he doing? I'll bet he's out screwing everything in Chicago."
"Now see here--"Lisa started angrily.
Joyce cut her off with, "Okay, I'm sorry I said that. But for Pete's sake, honey, be reasonable. You've got to let off sexual steam somehow or you'll explode."
"How? By going to your whorehouse?"
Joyce ignored the sarcasm. "If you have to. The experience might do you some good."
"No thanks. The idea sickens me."
"Okay, honey," Joyce said with a sigh. "Have it your way."
Lisa would have liked to have it her way. Joyce was in skimpy bra and panties again, and she was sitting close on the couch, so close that Lisa could smell the sexy odor of her body. It was funny. Joyce was arguing against the need for fidelity, and all the time Lisa really didn't feel the urge to be true to Bobbie--at least under the circumstances. She recalled that old saying about a stiff male sex organ not having a conscience. Apparently it was also true of a clitoris. The difference was that Lisa didn't want a male lover to take Bobbie's place. If it was anybody-- temporarily--it would be another woman. Like Joyce, for example. Or Nancy, she thought. Nancy with the smiling face, the soft dark hair, the luminous eyes, the willowy figure. The idea was very pleasant--except she knew that Nancy belonged to Lorraine, and Lorraine was Bobbie's friend.
Damn it! There didn't seem to be any way out.
* * *
At the end of the third week, Bobbie's letters expressed regret that she was unable to return-- or even to give Lisa a definite date she would be able to come back. Lisa began to have doubts about what Bobbie was doing in Chicago. Suppose she had found someone else, as Joyce had suggested, and that was the real reason she wasn't coming back right away. She felt ill as the possibility overwhelmed her, but she managed to put it out of her mind, and it crept back only occasionally after that. The physical cravings were not as easy to dispel. At work, several men asked her out, but she refused them. She was sure that' the pawings of some lustful male animal was not going to solve her problem.
It was during the fourth week that she received a phone call from Vince Balluck.
"I'm going to go back home in a few days," he said, "and I happen to have a couple of tickets for Hello Dolly out at the Expo, with Carol Channing, and I wondered--" His voice droned on. He sounded very gentle and sincere, and she was almost convinced. The temptation to go out with him was very strong, but Lisa knew that if she did, another temptation would follow--to let him make love to her. There was, of course, the possibility that it might be nice. If she went to the show with him, if they had a few drinks afterward to get her relaxed, if they went to his room then, and she undressed and lay back on his bed with her legs spread-- "No!"
She said it aloud, to answer his question, and to cut off her absurd train of thoughts about heterosexual love. No, she'd learned her lesson by this time. She could not have a satisfactory affair with a man, and there was little point in pretending to herself she could. Besides, surely Bobbie would be back in a few days.
"I'm sorry, Vince, really," she said gently. "I'm --well, I told you before, I'm sort of engaged."
"Oh," he said. "Well, good luck. It's been nice talking to you."
Lisa hung up, glad that she had not led him on needlessly.
But the letter that came the next day from Bobbie held no promise of a quick return for the artist. It would be at least another week. Tears formed in Lisa's eyes as she read the lines. She was like an addict going through withdrawal.
That evening Joyce readied herself to go out on a date with some new man she'd met.
"Have fun," Lisa said automatically.
"If we don't, it won't be my fault," Joyce said, giving her a grin.
Lisa couldn't stand to be in an empty apartment. Restless, she took a walk, finally ending up in a movie house on St. Catherine Street. The movie was dull, but Lisa stuck it out. She returned to her apartment shortly after midnight, to find Joyce coming out of the shower.
"You're home early," Lisa said, surprised.
"Yeah," Joyce said sarcastically.
She stepped into the living room, completely nude, toweling her glistening body with brisk strokes.
"He was a young guy," she went on. "I figured he'd be a stud. But I don't think he's ever had a woman before. We went out for a drive up Mount Royal and parked to look at the lights of the city. We did some plain and fancy necking until I was worked up so I couldn't stand it.
"I wasn't the only one. I could feel what he had right through the front of his trousers. I reached down, unzipped him, took out his cock in my hands. It was a pretty good sized one, thick, and starting to jerk all over the place. Then poof! he shot his wad right then and there and that wrapped up the whole ball game."
She shook her head sadly. "Okay, I thought, so he had no control, but at least he was young. I worked him over in my hands. Then I put my face in his lap and sucked on him for awhile-- nothing. Meanwhile there I am with my snatch itching and burning, so I asked him to go down on me. It's pretty good if the guy does it right, you know sticks his tongue up and makes contact. But he said he'd never done it before and didn't want to now. I guess I must've scared him."
She sighed. "So I had to rush home and take a cold shower. It's no substitute, but it helps."
Lisa stared at the jiggling breasts, with their turgid nipples beckoning to her parched lips. As the blonde turned, her full buttocks twitched provocatively, and Lisa's fingers itched to reach out and grip the solid flesh and pull it close to her. "I--I think I'd better take a shower myself," she said.
It didn't do any good. As she soaped herself, Lisa pretended that it was alternately Bobbie's and Joyce's hands squeezing her breasts, fingering the nipples, massaging her thighs and the tender flesh up between her legs. By the time she'd finished, she was more worked up than ever.
* * *
In the bedroom, Joyce was lying in her bed under the sheets, with the covers pulled down almost to the tips of her breasts. Lisa thought briefly of how nice it would be to slip in under the covers with the blonde, to run her eager hands over the girls breasts, to dig her fingers into the wide hips, to use her tongue and mouth on the girl's body-- "Good night, Lisa," Joyce murmured sleepily.
Lisa caught her breath. "Good night," she managed.
Lisa's mind whirled dizzily. Her breath shortened, and her heart beat a fast tempo. She recognized the symptoms, and they frightened her. She shouldn't even think such things. But she was thinking them. It had been so long since she'd felt a woman's silky skin against hers. She moved across the room and stood, staring down at the blonde whose golden hair was spread out against the pillow. The soft lips were parted slightly as Joyce fell into a deep sleep. Her breasts under the thin covers rose and fell with her breathing.
The knowledge of what she had to do thundered in Lisa's brain, blocking all rational thought. She was on fire with sexual desire, and there was only one way to extinguish the flame. She was like a woman in a trance as she took off her robe and quickly slipped under the bed covers.
For a few minutes Lisa lay tensely at the far edge of the bed away from the sleeping blonde, hardly daring to breathe, listening for some sound to show Joyce was aware of her in the bed. But her roommate's breathing was heavy, and she was in a deep sleep. Cautiously, still holding her breath, Lisa inched across the sheets, pausing when she could feel the heat of the other girl's body. Then she reached out a shakey hand and gently grazed the white mound of one glorious breast, the fingers raking the nipple, which rose in response to the light caress. Joyce moaned gently and shifted her body to give Lisa greater access to her breast. Lisa realized the girl probably thought she was dreaming one of her lovers was with her. Encouraged, she reached out again and this time covered one breast with her open hand and began massaging it gently.
"Mmm, baby," Joyce moaned in her sleep, a smile blossoming on her face.
Lisa's heart was pounding frantically now. She edged closer, until her thigh was touching the blonde girl's. The warm softness of the skin set her insides on fire. She didn't hesitate now. Deliberately, she extended her hand placed it on Joyce's leg, moving the fingers up and down the flesh, roaming over the rounded buttocks, then down and around toward her loins. Joyce moaned again and twisted about to face her bed-partner. She began to move her hips in response to Lisa's efforts. The blonde's sexual boiling point was low, and she was rapidly getting to that temperature. A rational part of Lisa's mind told her she should back off while she still had the chance. But passion drove her relentlessly on. Besides, she rationalized, Joyce was a heavy sleeper. The blonde would probably sleep through anything that happened, and in the morning think she'd had a dream. She pressed her body closer against her roommates, exulting in the delicious feel of the other girl's breasts, her warmly inviting thighs, and her hand grew bolder with each passing second, finding and exploring those places she'd dreamed of. Joyce began twisting on the bed, gasping with increasing passion. "That's it, baby, do it, do it, do it!" she husked.
Lisa needed no urging. Past the point of no return, she was in the process of doing it. She crawled on top of Joyce, gluing her body to the blonde's, wincing with delight as the other girl's heavy breasts mashed tightly against her, as her roommate's legs instinctively spread and then clamped sweatily about her in a vise grip. Their writhing bodies became as one, as eyes still closed in sleep, Joyce continued undulating rhythmically. Lisa felt her passion build toward its inexorable peak. She rocked back and forth, moving her pelvis in steady thrusts the way Bobbie had taught her. Her hands reached down to grip Joyce's firm buttocks. Her mouth covered the other girl's, her tongue penetrating the barrier of her teeth and thrusting deep inside the warm cavity of her mouth. She found herself drawing nearer and nearer the spasms that would signal the onset of a glorious climax. Lisa increased her movements with a frantic surge as she felt Joyce's eyelids flutter against her cheek. No, she thought desperately, she mustn't wake up. Not now. In just a few seconds it would be over. Sexual release would throb through her, and she would release the blonde, scamper through the darkness to her own bed, and Joyce would return to her deep sleep, thinking it had been only a wonderful dream.
"Oh wow, baby!" Joyce moaned--and opened her eyes.
For Lisa there was no holding back, no matter the consequences. Though the blonde's eyes were open, she was not aware who her sexual partner was. She kept up her undulations as she reached out and placed her hands up against Lisa's chest. The ecstatic look on her face was replaced by a frown of puzzlement as her hands enclosed female breasts. She began to swear, and then to squirm away.
"No, don't," Lisa begged. "Please don't stop now, Joyce. I'm almost through."
"It's you," Joyce accused, eyes wide in astonishment.
The blonde pushed Lisa away roughly, rolled over and stood up. She switched on the bed lamp and stared, shocked, at the nude girl on the bed.
Lisa began crying. "I couldn't help myself, Joyce. Please understand."
Joyce gave her a contemptuous look. "I understand, all right. You're a lesbian, a dyke, a queer." Lisa flinched as though whipped by each word. "A goddamned lousy pervert!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lisa wished fervently that the ground would open up and swallow her. What she had most dreaded had actually happened.
"Please don't be angry with me," she begged. "I couldn't help myself, Joyce. Honest. You looked so lovely lying there, so sexy and all, and I haven't had any affection in such a long time-" Lisa felt sick with the knowledge she had been discovered, but even worse, there was a dull throb deep inside her. She had come so close to being sexually satisfied. Another few seconds would have done it. But apparently she was being punished that way, too. At least Joyce had calmed down, although the look of contempt still screwed up her features. "Have you been drinking?" she asked Lisa, still shocked.
"I wish I had," Lisa said miserably. "Then I could blame it on the alcohol. But I can't."
Joyce considered this. She walked over to her nightstand and lit a cigarette. She puffed thoughtfully on the cigarette for a moment and then shuddered visibly.
"To think," she said slowly, "that all the time we've been living together up here I never suspected. And all that time you've probably been secretly lusting after me, just biding your time until I fell asleep and you could crawl all over me and stick your tongue up my snatch and-- Lord knows what else!"
"That isn't true," Lisa said, angry that Joyce wasn't even attempting to understand. "Besides," she added, self-righteously, "you seemed to be enjoying what I was doing to you."
Joyce's calm left her abruptly. "Don't hand me that crap, you lousy queer. I was asleep. I thought a man was fucking me--not a goddamned dyke!"
Lisa winced. She took a deep breath and said, "I am sorry, Joyce. I didn't intend for this to happen. I never expected it to. But it's been so long since I've seen Bobbie that--" Joyce's eyes lit up. "Bobbie." She grunted. "I thought that wasn't a particularly masculine name for a man. Now I know why. Bobbie's a woman."
Lisa looked away guiltily.
"Don't bother answering, honey," Joyce said, her voice hard. "I know how I can find out for sure. Those letters you've been hiding in your nightstand.
Joyce moved around the bed and opened the drawer, too late for Lisa to stop her.
"Leave those letters alone," Lisa almost shouted. "They're mine."
"Sure they are, and you're welcome to them," Joyce said, rummaging through the nightstand until she came up with them.
"No, don't read them please," Lisa sobbed.
She ran around the bed and tried to grab them from the blonde's hands, but Joyce gave her a shove which toppled her on the bed, where she lay shaking in helpless frustration and shame and embarrassment.
Joyce read one of the letters, her features twisting in revulsion at their contents. Then she threw them back into the drawer and turned to face Lisa. She put her hands under her naked breasts and lifted their weight forward. "Go on, baby," she said harshly, "take a good look. Has Bobbie anything as nice as this. Eat your heart out, kiddo because that's all you're going to get."
"Joyce, please--"
"Please, hell. It makes my skin crawl to think I've been walking around naked in front of you all these months while you've been aching to put your filthy hands and mouth all over me."
"That's not true. You don't understand."
"I understand enough," Joyce said, shaking her head impatiently. "You're a pervert. No wonder you keep turning down dates with Vince Balluck. He's too much of a man for you. You like to have sex with other girls."
"Joyce, please listen to me," Lisa begged. "I haven't always been--like this. I've had nothing but bad experiences with men, but I never went to another women before. Then, that night I left you and Hugh up here, I was almost raped in the street by a drunk. Bobbie rescued me, took me home, comforted me. Before I'd realized what had happened she'd seduced me. She was so gentle, so kind, so considerate of me that it-well, it almost seemed a natural thing to happen."
"So you went back to her," Joyce accused.
"Yes," Lisa admitted. "I didn't want to--at first. I was ashamed of what had happened. But I wasn't getting any satisfaction from men--and I had to have release. So I went back to Bobbie."
"Which makes it all right, I suppose."
"No, it doesn't, but I at least thought you'd have some understanding of the torment I've been going through. Remember when you didn't have any sex for a few days, you were going out of your mind."
"But I didn't turn queer!" Joyce snapped. She shivered again with revulsion. "I woke up with you crawling all over me, with your hands on my body, your tongue inside my mouth. I feel sick just thinking about it."
"I was hoping you wouldn't wake up," Lisa said slowly. "I thought you'd stay asleep and next morning think it was a dream. Please forgive me, Joyce."
"Forgive you?" Joyce's tone was incredulous. "You're damn lucky I don't call the police and have you arrested as a pervert."
"I said I was sorry. Believe me, it won't happen again."
"You're damn right it won't happen again," Joyce said, turning. "I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight."
"Don't make me feel any more miserable than I do."
"That's your problem, honey, not mine. And from the looks of things you've got a lot of them. If you think I'm going to sleep in the same room with you, you've got another think coming. I'm just sorry I have to stay in the same apartment tonight. Just stay away from me, understand."
Lisa started to protest, then realized it would do no good. "I understand," she said meekly.
"And tomorrow I'll find another apartment." At the door, she paused. "Maybe you and your dyke girl friend can live together."
The door slammed shut, leaving Lisa to the silence of the lonely bedroom. She was more frightened now that it was over with than she had been during the discovery itself. It was a mistake to think that Joyce would have been sympathetic and understanding, and people with normal sex urges would of course look down and distrust something they couldn't understand. Lisa went to bed, but she was unable to get to sleep. Too many thoughts crowded her mind. To make matters worse, she still felt the ache inside her from lack of sexual satisfaction. Thoughts of Joyce's naked squirming voluptuous body came to plague her. If only Bobbie were in town. Bobbie would know how to comfort her, how to put out the fires that still raged, unquenched in her aching female body. Finally, she fell into a restless sleep, and she dreamed of herself lying expectantly in wait, and then of the door opening and a naked smiling Joyce coming in and moving toward her, lips red and wet, loins incandescent and ready.
* * *
The next morning, Lisa felt terrible-- physically and emotionally. She put on her robe and went out into the kitchen, where Joyce was preparing coffee for herself. Lisa had hoped that in the cool clear light of day, her roommate's anger and contempt might have diminished--but both were there in full force. "Joyce--" Lisa began.
"What do you want now?" The blonde's voice was harsh, cold.
"Are you really planning on moving out?"
"I wouldn't stay here for a million dollars," Joyce told her. "You think I'd hang around here and give you another chance to feel me up? No thanks."
Lisa felt her cheeks flame. "Joyce, please--" Joyce cut her off. "I don't even want to talk about it, Lisa. I like my sex, as you know, but queers really turn my stomach. Just let me get quietly the hell out of here. When I find a place, I'll get in touch with you so I can pay my share of the bills up till now."
"That's all right."
"No, it isn't. Believe me, I don't want to be indebted to you in any way."
As Joyce stalked off into the bedroom to start her packing, Lisa went into the kitchen and morosely poured herself some coffee. It was a hell of a thing. First Bobbie took off and now Joyce. Life was going to be very lonely without them.
Joyce returned, fully dressed in a skirt and blouse that seemed to point up her bust and legs. But then, Lisa recalled, there didn't seem to be any clothing the blonde wore that didn't do that.
"Suppose you don't find an apartment today?"
Joyce shrugged. "I can always shack up with one of my men friends."
Lisa felt annoyance rankle her. "Or maybe," she said nastily, "you can find some drunken bum to lay in the gutter with."
Joyce's face grew hard. "That's better than being a goddamned pervert! You talk about men abusing you. Well what the hell do you think you did to me last night?"
"I'd rather be that than a nymphomaniac who'll spread her legs for anything with a stiff cock." Her words surprised Lisa, but she went on relentlessly. "Tell me, Joyce, have you tried it with a German Shepherd yet!"
"Why you-" Shaking with anger, Joyce strode to Lisa. Her hand whipped up and struck Lisa full on the cheek. The younger girl staggered back, her cheek stinging from the blow, her eyes wide in shock.
"No dirty, lousy homosexual is going to call me names!" Joyce shouted.
Tears of regret and frustration filled Lisa's eyes as she realized there was no point in continuing the argument. Already the two who had once been good friends had come to blows.
Joyce left shortly thereafter, saying curtly that she'd packed most of her stuff in suitcases and would send for them. As Lisa had suspected, the apartment seemed suddenly very lonely--and all because she couldn't control her emotions last night. If only she'd taken another cold shower, or gone to a gay bar, or called up Nancy-She didn't feel like going to the office, so she called up the insurance company and told them she was feeling ill--which was certainly close to the truth. She was sick with shame and humiliation, and filled with infinite regret at what had happened. She thought of going out to the Expo fairgrounds to lose herself in the throngs, but she feared that the happy people would depress her all the more by contrast. So she filled the tub with water instead and lay in the warm wetness, soaping the tension out of her muscles. She was toweling herself dry when the doorbell rang. Hastily she pulled a robe to cover her nakedness, sure it must be Joyce returning to apologize for her temper and the hasty decision to leave. But there was a young man in a kind of uniform standing there.
"Telegram for Miss Lisa Garris," he said.
She reached out for it and noticed that he was looking at the top of her robe, which had parted and showed off a generous expanse of breast. Then his eyes met hers and he blushed, gave her the telegram and beat a hasty retreat down the corridor. As Lisa closed the door, she laughed, pleased. Lesbian or not, at least she had a body that was attractive to men. For some reason, that thought was very comforting. She opened the telegram.
I'M COMING HOME, MA CHERE, AS SOON
AS I CAN. ALL FLIGHTS FILLED UP.
AM AWAITING NEXT CANCELLATION.
ALL MY LOVE.
BOBBIE
Lisa stared at the telegram, hardly able to believe her eyes. Bobbie was coming home, after all these weeks. If only, she thought wistfully, the telegram had come a little earlier, on the previous day. Knowing Bobbie's arrival was imminent, Lisa was sure she could have resisted the lure of Joyce's golden body. But there was no point in thinking about that now. Now, she would think of Bobbie, and how wonderful it would be in the woman's arms again. Except, it didn't seem as wonderful to think about it as she'd expected it to be. Apparently Joyce's discovery of her true nature had taken the edge off any good things that happened. She did feel much better, however. She wished she knew precisely when Bobbie would arrive at the Montreal airport, so she could go down and surprise her. Or better yet, why not go over to her house, use the key and wait there for her and surprise her. Lisa's heart sang with happiness as she put together some clothing into a small overnight case to take with her to Bobbie's place. The thought of Bobbie tiptoeing into the house and awakening the dozing Lisa with a kiss, followed by a session of unrestrained lovemaking, overwhelmed the disappointment she had felt at the hands of the vindictive Joyce. She turned on the radio and sang with the music that poured forth. It was funny how much Bobbie's telegram had changed her entire perspective. The world had been gloomy and miserable, but now the sun seemed to be shining with all its might. Lisa realized Bobbie would not arrive until early evening, at the earliest, so she decided to go to work after all. She did, saying she felt better, which was certainly quite true. When she returned home, she discovered that the belongings Joyce had left were no longer there. Either the blonde had sent someone there to pick them up, or she'd waited until Lisa left and then gone in herself.
"To hell with her," Lisa said aloud, "and to hell with all the narrow-minded people in the world who look down on us lesbians." She was pleasantly surprised that the word didn't bother her. She picked up her packed suitcase and went out to get a taxi.
* * *
When she arrived at Bobbie's house, it was getting dark. She let herself in with the key the artist had given her. Her hand trembled as she fitted the key into the lock. She'd never thought she'd use it, but now was the ideal time. Joyce had suggested she and her girl friend lover live together, and Lisa thought now that it might not be a bad idea. But first, there was tonight. She'd select a real sexy shortie nightgown and when Bobbie came in the front door, Lisa would throw on the lights and yell "Surprise," and then rush into the other woman's arms. She opened the door and walked into the dark living room, reaching out for a wall light switch. Before she could find it, the lights flared into brilliance, blinding her.
"Surprise!" a female voice cried out. "Surprise, Bobbie!"
Lisa recovered in time-to see the smile fade on the face of the pretty dark-haired girl in a diaphanous shortie nightgown that covered her thin, sensuous figure.
"Oh, it's you," the girl said, flustered. "I thought--I mean, I expected--That is, I got this telegram, and--"
"And you expected to surprise Bobbie," Lisa finished for her, sick at the sight of the young girl. It was Hugh's lesbian sister--Nancy!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"I suppose she gave you a key, too," Lisa said dully.
Nancy nodded, still flustered by Lisa's unexpected appearance. "She gave it to me a long time ago--just in case Lorraine and I broke up."
"Apparently you and Lorraine broke up," Lisa said.
"Well, we're always having quarrels and one of us stamps off for the night or maybe a few days and we make up awhile later."
"And I suppose," Lisa said, matter-of-factly, "you always have Bobbie console you." The dark-haired girl's blush verified it. "How convenient of you to have an argument with Lorraine at the same time Bobbie decides to come home."
Nancy clenched her fists. "All right, so it wasn't a coincidence. I picked a fight with Lorraine on purpose, just so I could come over here to stay with Bobbie the first night she was home."
Lisa felt anger surge through her. Part of it was directed at Bobbie, who didn't seem to be as loyal as some men she knew. Another part of it was directed at Nancy, whom she'd thought she liked until the girl turned out to be a rival.
"Well, I'm here now," Lisa said, "so you can get dressed and go on home."
Nancy smiled, but the smile held no humor. "Not a chance. I was here first. You go home."
"Bobbie belongs to me!" Lisa almost shouted.
"The hell she does," Nancy shot back. "Bobbie doesn't belong to any one person. Bobbie belongs to the whole lesbian world. She'll screw anything that's a female."
Lisa shook her head, slightly bewildered by the turn of the conversation. It seemed she had. gone through this once before, but with other people and concerning other sexes.
"You're not staying here in her house," she said determinedly, "and insult her like that."
"I'm not insulting her. I love Bobbie. I was just stating a fact."
"Look," Lisa said slowly, her eyes flashing fire, "I'm telling you in a nice way to get the hell out of here."
Nancy's pretty face twisted into a look of rebellion. "And I'm telling you no. You don't even live here. The only person who can tell me to leave is Bobbie Posner, and she won't. Until then I'm staying right here, and no little slut pickup of hers is going to make me change my mind."
Lisa fought to keep her temper. "Look, Nancy, you've got Lorraine. Leave now before Bobbie gets here. You can always get in touch with her later."
Nancy snorted. "What, me leave when I'm all ready for a hot session in the sack with her. Not a chance. Lorraine's okay, but she doesn't have Bobbie's finesse. I'm the one who's staying, and you're the one who's leaving."
Lisa clenched her fists and strode determinedly toward the thin girl. She'd been waiting for Bobbie all these weeks, and she didn't want to be cheated out of gathering her reward.
"I'll throw you out bodily if I have to," Lisa warned.
Nancy backed away, her dark eyes flashing with defiance. "Stay away from me."
Lisa reached out and snatched Nancy's upraised hand. Her grasp closed over the thin girl's wrist and she yanked, intending to pull the girl toward the door. It would serve her right to be stuck outside wearing only a short nightgown. But her intentions did not materialize. Nancy was off balance, but her hand shot out and struck Lisa full on the cheek. Lisa staggered back, more shocked than hurt. She had really expected Nancy to put up a minor struggle and then leave. But now it seemed obvious that the dark-haired girl wasn't planning on leaving. She wanted to stay, to be with Bobbie, so they might make passionate love together--and leave Lisa out in the cold. It was war, Lisa realized, but then Bobbie was a prize worth fighting for. Lisa moved forward stealthily, like a cat. She reached out and snagged some of the flimsy material of Nancy's nightgown in her hand. As Nancy backed away, the material ripped and came loose in Lisa's hands. The dark-haired girl's slim figure was naked, and for a moment Lisa merely stood entranced by the firm apple breasts, the rounded stomach, the sinuous thighs and legs. She was startled into wariness as Nancy leaped forward. Lisa tried to fend her off, but the girl's hands and nails were all over her, ripping her clothing, tearing it into shreds. She felt her blouse go, the buttons on her skirt. Her bra was nearly ripped off. Nancy's attack overwhelmed her, made her back off in self-defence --and stumble to the floor. Nancy's body covered hers triumphantly, the hands still ripping unrestrainedly at the clothing. Lisa fought back, fighting, kicking and scratching, drawing blood and shedding some in return. Clothing was scattered all over the floor, until Lisa was as naked as her opponent. Naked breasts massaged each other, heated loins locked, legs intertwined tightly. Exhausted, they hugged each other, panting for breath, holding onto each other, side by side. Lisa looked into Nancy's dark eyes and read a surprising message there. And then she realized that another stronger sensation was overcoming her anger--a sensation of pleasure at the touch of another warm body, of the gently massage of breast against breast as the two women breathed rapidly, of the moist heat of loins in close proximity. Lisa felt a sudden spasm of delight course through her body.
Nancy apparently sensed the change--in herself as well as in Lisa. "Oh, baby, let's not fight anymore," she pleaded hoarsely.
Lisa's eyes were glazed with passion as she agreed, "No. Let's--make--love!"
They drew each other close in a passionate embrace, their lips and mouths and tongues working frantically in the delight of new-found sexual discovery. Their quivering bodies met and blended. Lisa's fingers crept down Nancy's back until she could grip the girl's rounded buttocks and knead the flesh. One of Nancy's hands moved gently to cover one of Lisa's quickly responding breasts. Gently, swiftly, surely, they began to discover each other. They shifted nakedly about on the soft carpeting, giving in to whims of the moment, exploring every part of each other with their mouths, their tongues, their hands and every part of themselves, exulting in each new barrier crossed. Their thighs rubbed, legs moved, hips ground, breasts massaged--slowly building a crescendo of rising passion that could end only one way. Familiar urges swept through Lisa's body, making her shudder with ecstasy. Her breasts were sore as the nipples pushed up stiffly for the touch of a caressing palm. Her back arched and her pelvis gyrated as her incandescent loins flamed with a heat that was as intense as any she had ever known. Her heart beat a fast tempo, and her breathing came in gasping pleas for release. She could sense it coming for both of them, like a great tidal wave rushing forward to engulf them in the grip of its passion. She felt Nancy's legs lock about her in the beginning spasm, feel the dark-haired girl's sharp teeth bite into her shoulder. She hung on, eyes closed, moaning, gripping--as the giant wave swept over her, picked her up, tossed her on the shore in foaming breakers of delight and fulfillment. Lisa collapsed happily beside the other girl. They sank back on the rug, exhausted, drawing in great gulps of air. Suddenly, they became aware that someone else was in the room with them. As one, they looked up, startled to see a woman standing in the doorway.
"I expected I might be pleasantly surprised when I arrived," Bobbie Posner said, smiling, licking her lips in anticipation at the sight of the two naked girls on the floor, "but it looks like I hit the jackpot!"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At first, both Lisa and Nancy were embarrassed by Bobbie's finding them sprawled nakedly on the floor making love. They got to their feet, blushing, not knowing what to say.
"We--I came over to surprise you," Lisa managed.
"So did I," Nancy chimed in, "and well--" Bobbie laughed and hugged them both. "Do not bother with explanations, my pets. I understand. If I am attracted to Lisa and I am also attracted to Nancy, then it makes sense that Lisa would be attracted to Nancy and vice versa, n 'est pas?"
Lisa was not too sure of the logic involved, but she was too happy to see Bobbie again to worry about it. She clung to the artist, hugging her, kissing her full on the lips. But when she stepped back, a pang of jealousy shot through her as Nancy clutched the woman and held onto a breathless kiss for a long time.
"Plenty of time for this later, my sweets," Bobbie decided, pushing Nancy away and patting Lisa affectionately on her naked behind. "I came right from the airport, anxious to see both of you, and I did not eat. I am famished."
"I'll make something for you," Lisa said.
"Me, too," Nancy volunteered.
While Bobbie put away her things, Nancy and Lisa prepared a homecoming meal in the kitchen. At one point, Nancy hugged Lisa to her and said, "I loved being with you like that, Lisa. I mean, naked, making love on the rug in there. I don't want us to be rivals for Bobbie. I think we can work something out."
The memory of Nancy's hot writhing body was still fresh within her, so Lisa agreed that it would be nice if the three of them could exist together--like a "big happy family." She wanted Bobbie, but didn't want to give up Nancy.
* * *
Bobbie was all for the idea. "The idea is magnifique!" she enthused, hugging them both to her. "To tell the truth, cheres, I really could not give up either one of you."
"I suppose we'll have to arrange a schedule of some sort," Lisa said with a frown, putting down her after-dinner cognac.
"A schedule?" Bobbie laughed. "Hardly, ma chere. Love does not follow a schedule."
"But with three of us--" Lisa began, puzzled.
Bobbie glanced at Nancy. "I think, Nancy my sweet, now would be a good time to teach our neophyte lesbian that three is not a crowd."
Nancy nodded eagerly, and the two of them led Lisa into the bedroom. It was an experience the young girl was not likely to forget. She was used to Bobbie's body and she was now used to Nancy's--but the two of them together with her proved to be more than twice the fun. Any apprehension she had at first was soon lost in the flurry of female parts that moved over her, giving her pleasure and demanding it in turn. There were two mouths and tongues to work her over, and four hands to complement them--and they seemed to be all over her trembling body at once--on her breasts, at the nipples, over her twisting belly, on her thighs, up high between her legs. And there were twice as many delights awaiting her exploration. Soon, the bed shook as though an earthquake were moving it. As far as Lisa was concerned, the experience was not only earth-shattering, but perfectly delightful as well. The two girls were experts in raising another girl's sexual temperature, and they easily had Lisa's passion boiling over time and time again, raising it to a peak, letting it burst over, settle for a moment, and then start in again.
* * *
Hours later, all three of them lay in each others' arms, a tangle of arms, legs, and breasts on the huge bed, when they fell asleep. That was the first night. Lisa staggered into work the next morning, exhausted but quite happy. At the end of the day, she stopped at her own apartment to pick up some personal articles, and then went over to Bobbie's house. The rent was paid up until the end of the month, so there was no hurry in moving in with Bobbie--and Nancy, who had lived with Lorraine but now seemed determined not to go back to her.
During the first several days it seemed as though the three-sided relationship was going to work out. Then, when they weren't in bed, things started getting awkward for Lisa. Bobbie and Nancy had many mutual friends and even more, it seemed, mutual experience, and their reminiscences were peppered with allusions Lisa did not understand. She started to feel very left out. She tried to make up for her lack by being exceptional in bed, but even that failed. Despite her enthusiasm, both Bobbie and Nancy were much more experienced, and their finesse in lesbian sex matters showed her up. Also, it seemed to Lisa that Bobbie was showing more and more preference to Nancy. Lisa didn't mention it, but by the end of the week the situation was grating at her nerves so that she had to mention it to Bobbie.
"But I do not understand you, ma chere," Bobbie said, puzzled. "I thought you were happy with our little three musketeers arrangement."
"Well, I'm not," Lisa told her. "I'm miserable." She took a deep breath and said, "I want it the way it was before, Bobbie--with just you and me."
Bobbie stared at her. "But I thought you liked Nancy. You seem to enjoy the three of us making love."
"I do, I do," Lisa said helplessly, suddenly realizing the futility of trying to explain to Bobbie something that she herself didn't fully understand. "But I have the feeling that Nancy is no longer the third member of the wedding, but that she's slowly getting between us--you and me. Maybe not on purpose, but she's always trying to outdo me, trying to get your attention so you'll think she's more important to you than I am."
Bobbie laughed and kissed Lisa gently on the cheek. "My little worrier, you are jealous, that is all. Nancy loves you as much as I do."
Lisa bit her lip. "Do you really love me, Bobbie?"
"What a question--"
"Answer me."
Bobbie looked startled by Lisa's tone. "Mais outi, but of course, ma chere, I love you."
"Then--" Lisa hesitated, and rushed on, "then get rid of Nancy." When Bobbie just stared at her, she went on, "Make her move out of here, so it can be just the two of us alone."
Bobbie was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Is that an ultimatum, Lisa?"
Wordlessly, Lisa nodded.
Bobbie sighed. "I believe I knew it would come to this one day. It was inevitable. I am sorry, Lisa, but I must choose Nancy."
The words struck Lisa like an electric shock. She had never considered the fact that Bobbie wouldn't choose her. Tears stung her eyes. "But-"
"Why? Because Nancy was a lesbian when I met her, she is a lesbian now, and she always will be."
"But I'm a lesbian now and always will be," Lisa protested.
Bobbie shook her head sadly. "Do you know how many heterosexual women have lesbian experiences? More than you would guess. College girls who have pajama parties with other college girls and go on to become housewives. Housewives bored with their life who invite other housewives over on afternoons to have fun in bed while their husbands are away at the office."
"But I enjoy whatever we've done together."
"Of course you do," Bobbie agreed. "Sex is sex, whether you do it with yourself or somebody else. Whatever you get pleasure out of is worth doing. But your heart just isn't in it, Lisa. You've had bad experiences with men, and good experiences with me--but that doesn't make you a lesbian, necessarily."
Anger joined the hurt in her. Lisa snapped, "What does it make me then?"
"A poor little mixed up girl," Bobbie said.
The artist leaned forward to kiss her, but Lisa shrugged her off. "Does that mean you want me to move out?"
Bobbie shrugged. "If you wish."
"You're goddamned right I wish," Lisa almost shouted. Her eyes flashed anger. "I'm not staying where I'm not wanted. And if you think you're the only lousy queer in this town I can get to make love to me you've got another think coming!"
Lisa stamped out the front door, slamming it behind her. She felt anger roar through her body as she walked along the streets. Tears of frustration and hurt filled her eyes, and impatiently she blotted them with a handkerchief. She'd show Bobbie. She'd find herself another lover who was just as good, maybe even better. She found a cab and told the driver to take her to downtown Montreal. Lorraine was free now, she remembered, but Lisa knew the stocky butch type didn't appeal to her at all. She might go to a lesbian bar, but the thought of a casual pickup for the night--someone she didn't know--filled her with disgust. The cab left her out at Dominion Square, and she got out and walked, exulting in the fresh feel of the night air. For awhile she sat on a park bench and watched young lovers stroll by. She felt a pang of regret then, and a feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her. She got up and started walking again, aimlessly. Her stride carried her through the bright flashing neon of St. Catherine Street, with its glittering array of nightclubs. Then the traffic thinned perceptibly and the lights grew less bright and less frequent, and she noticed she was close to home. Except she didn't want to go there, to an empty apartment. Not yet. She passed the street where the bar was where the drunk had tried to rape her. It seemed like such a long time ago. She wondered what might have happened if Bobbie hadn't come along just then to rescue her. Would she have still become a lesbian--or merely a man-hater? She hurried past the street, not wanting to relive the memories it had engendered. An unfamiliar bar beckoning a neon finger from down a side street made her pause. She was still pretty upset by the scene with Bobbie, and what she needed, she decided, was a drink to calm her frayed nerves and to put her in the mood for a good night's rest. Before she could talk herself out of it, she walked down the silent street and went into the bar.
It was the usual sort of place, dark, with a long bar, jukebox music playing. She climbed on a stool and ordered a scotch and soda. It went down very smoothly, and she felt a warm glow starting in the pit of her stomach and spreading slowly throughout her body. It wasn't as good a feeling as the sexual thrills she got at the hands, among other things, of Bobbie--but then it was better than nothing.
Bobbie. The thought made her frown. She ordered another scotch and soda and determined that she was not going to think that name or that person ever again.
By the third drink she'd decided that she could easily find somebody else just as good as--as old what's-her-name anyway. With the fourth drink, she decided she'd had quite enough to drink. Lisa slid off the barstool and headed out into the night. The cool air perked her up somewhat, but even so she was glad she'd chosen a bar close to home. There would be no trouble sleeping now; already, the alcohol was doing its work, making her drowsy. But she managed to put one foot in front of the other often enough so that she arrived at her apartment and was walking up the stairs. She went down the corridor and paused, fishing for the key. She pulled it out and was fitting it into the lock when she heard a sudden noise. She looked up, startled, unable to focus her eyes. A figure was coming toward her. It was saying something, but the words only made an unintelligible roar in her ears. She didn't bother looking at the face. She stared, hypnotized, as the hands reached out toward her, relentlessly. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came from her lips. Her mind whirled in a crazy maelstrom, her legs buckled beneath her, and the world turned black.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lisa felt as though she were falling down a deep, dark well. She reached beside her and touched the bed, and the falling stopped. She became slowly aware that she was lying on her bed and that someone else was moving about the room. The bed sagged when someone sat beside her. When the someone pressed a cold cloth to her forehead, Lisa opened her eyes wide, and tried to sit up.
"Hey, take it easy, honey," a familiar voice said. "Just relax for a minute."
Lisa's eyes focussed on the figure sitting beside her. When the image cleared, she stared in wonder.
"Joyce!" Lisa exclaimed, "but--"
"I didn't mean to scare you out there in the hallway," the blonde said, "but I don't have my key anymore, so I just had to wait for you."
"Did you forget something?"
Joyce got up from the bed and paced a moment before answering. "I--I came back to apologize, Lisa," she said finally.
"Apologize?"
Joyce hesitated again. "About the way I carried on the other night when you were--well, doing those things to me."
"I don't blame you for getting angry with me, Joyce--" The blonde shook her head impatiently. "You don't understand, Lisa. I wasn't really angry with you. I was angry with myself for enjoying what you did--and afterward for not letting you go on with it."
Lisa could only stare at the blonde girl wordlessly.
Joyce sighed. "I may as well give you the full confession. Part of the reason I go after men is because I like sex very much. But the other reason is because I'm uncertain about my femininity."
"You?" Lisa said with a laugh.
"A psychiatrist once told me that. You see, I've had a few homosexual experiences, but I never thought of them as such. Nothing serious or very long, just a few pajama parties in college where we--well, sort of fooled around. I tried to kid myself that it was the same as masturbating, but I know it wasn't. I guess I knew subconsciously I tended to be bisexual all along and consciously tried to disprove it by sleeping with as many men as I could."
"You went to a psychiatrist about it?"
It was Joyce's turn to laugh. "No. I was dating him. Between screwing sessions in bed, he told me my mind was fucked up, too."
There was an awkward moment of silence as the two girls eyed each other.
"Where does that leave us now?" Lisa asked.
"Friends, I hope," Joyce said sincerely. "I'd like to be your roommate again, if you'll have me."
"I'd like that, Joyce, very much--except I'm not sure I can keep my hands off you."
Joyce gave her a reassuring smile. "After that little escapade we had, honey, I'm not sure I want you to keep your hands off me. Who the hell do I think I'm kidding anyway. I enjoy sex, all kinds, and putting a label on certain kinds is just making life difficult."
Another thought brought a frown to Lisa's features. "Bobbie told me tonight that I just stayed with her for kicks, that I wasn't really a lesbian but just thought I was."
Joyce sat on the edge of the bed, laughed and hugged Lisa to her. "Maybe she's right. Maybe you're neither fish nor fowl but something in between that can enjoy the best of all possible sexual worlds. If Vince Balluck ever calls up again, I'd suggest you go out with him. He's a nice guy, and I think you two could make out fine."
"I doubt that I'll ever see him again. He was just up here for Expo, and since I gave him the brush he'll probably never come back to Montreal."
Joyce looked at her frankly, "You could swallow your pride and call him in New York. Manhattan's just a few hours away by plane, and I'm sure there are a lot of sights in Montreal he hasn't seen."
"I'll think about it," Lisa decided at once.
That night Joyce stayed at the apartment. She took a shower and proceeded to parade around in the nude--"just," as she put it, "like old times." Lisa admired the statuesque female body and felt a familiar desire rise up inside her. But, oddly enough, it was not the animalistic urge that she had previously known. However, neither was it sheer platonic admiration either--as she proved when Joyce climbed into bed with her and cuddled up. The touch of the blonde's large breasts against her was very exciting, as was the heat of her loins pressing close. When Lisa's hands roamed over the other girl's body, as her lips paid homage to the erecting nipples, as her fingers sought and found the hot box between her legs--Joyce went out of her mind in a sexual frenzy and reciprocated with no inhibitions to mar either girl's enjoyment. That night they did everything they could think of--and Joyce was quite inventive when it came to exploring new sexual pleasures. For hours they locked their bodies in sweaty embraces. They twisted, turned, thrusted, gyrated, mouthed, kissed, tongued --using every part of their bodies, it seemed, to give pleasure and excitement to themselves and to each other. And when it was over, they collapsed in happy exhaustion in each other's arms.
After awhile, Joyce fell into a sound sleep, but Lisa lay for a long while staring into the darkness, thinking how strange it should be that she was sexually satisfied to the utmost yet still not completely content. Perhaps Bobbie had been right in accusing her of not being a complete and full-fledged lesbian. Perhaps not. Lisa was not even sure she would see Vince Balluck now if he did return to Montreal. And if she did, she might possibly let him make love to her, just to see what her reactions would be. She knew one thing: all the frightening and the happy experiences she had since coming to Montreal had been worthwhile. Lesbian, bisexual, or merely a mix-up girl--she was now ready to accept herself at face value.
Lisa Garris snuggled up to her roommate, smiled drowsily, fell asleep--and dreamed of an even happier tomorrow that was certain to come.
