by Joan Ellis
"I'm pretty lucky to have been taken into the office," Phyl said frankly. "They're tops in obstetrics."
"You make it comfortable for them, Ed says—this deal where you live right by the hospital in case any rough emergencies arrive, like that re-section yesterday. Not that they'd slough off just because you're available," Doug added guardedly.
Doug guessed the truth, Phyl surmised. Bill Porter would never in his life slough off a case, but Ed Madigan would. She'd heard Bill reading him the riot act for leaving a patient in labor at home past the routine time because she was Bill's patient, and Ed hoped she'd make it at home without developing infection until Ed returned from his weekend off the following morning. They alternated on being "off call" weekends, but it was silently understood that Phyl was always within reach.
"What about that drink?" Doug ventured again, and Phyl knew this wasn't a colleague inspecting her now but a man looking at a woman he was-finding attractive.
"One of these nights," Phyl said vaguely with an attempt at smiling. "I have to get back to duty." She ditched her cigarette and pushed back her chair. "Every patient I have seems to be trying to deliver at the same time."
* * *
Eve rubbed one tired foot, debating whether she should stay in the room or get out of its nerve-shattering confines. This was only her second day on the job, but already she loathed it. Her feet, her back, her arms—everything ached from slinging trays about. And she felt so clumsy, so unsure of herself, expecting any minute to drop a tray of dishes and to be fired. She surveyed her minute room with an overwhelming sense of being closed in. Tired as she was, she'd go out. It would drive her crazy to sit inside these narrow four walls till bedtime.
Eve inspected herself in the dresser mirror as she ran a comb through the thick honey-colored hair. She hated the dark circles beneath her eyes. She'd been sleeping so badly these last few weeks. What would she do with the evening, she wondered? Those interminable hours before she could pretend it was time to go to bed, to toss restlessly through the night. She'd sit in the Square a while, pretend to read. Nobody bothered a girl with a book. She might stop in somewhere for a cup of coffee—after handling food all day the prospect of dinner was repugnant.
Eve reached into the closet for a coat. She'd brought so few things with her, but she'd have to buy herself some summer clothes soon. The way Joe had behaved, she'd packed just what she could manage to carry in a suitcase and she'd hurried out of the sight of his condemning eyes. She'd gone to Marian, not sure what to expect, and Marian had screamed at her and thrown things about until her living room was a shambles. Even now, Eve's face stained with color as she remembered the things Marian had said to her—the way Marian had slapped her across the mouth. Phyl wouldn't have behaved that way.
In a rush of desperation Eve took herself out of the room. She wouldn't remember those ugly things. She wouldn't remember Phyl. Four nights ago she'd left a note under Phyl's door, a note of apology, asking her to call, but there had been no word. Silence.
Was it possible that Phyl hadn't been to the apartment, Eve wondered as she walked towards the Square. She didn't live there permanently—that much Eve was sure. Perhaps her note was still stuck under the door there. She'd go in to Ronaldo's, she decided impulsively. Maybe somebody there would know Phyl, give her some hint. Her body straightened with new optimism as she swerved about, heading for the bar.
Eve wasn't sure that the car was trailing her at first. From the corner of her eye she could see the beat-up convertible, with its top down, was bulging with butch characters in jeans and leather jackets. These were the ones she loathed. The car was pulling up at the curb, and instinctively Eve quickened her steps.
"Hey, baby, where ya rushin’?” a coarse-faced girl in male clothes, her hair cut in mannish style, dropped into step beside her.
"Beat it," Eve said coldly, her pulse quickening as the other girl brushed against her.
"Aw come on, lemme show you a real good time. The works, gorgeous—anything you want. You name it—I give it to you," she bragged. "I’ll bet I can show you a few tricks you never even heard of." She was eye-undressing Eve, probably not sure if she were straight or not. "Whadda ya say? I'll make you so happy you'll be ready to explode!"
"Leave me alone!" Eve stopped dead, shoving the hand away from her arm. "Beat it before I call a cop!"
"Aw, ya wouldn't do somethin' like that." The girl wavered momentarily, but the mob in the car sat grinning there, silently egging her on. "Baby, it's better than with a guy—lemme show ya!"
Phyl drove along at her customary slowness, then sighed with annoyance because the convertible ahead was stalled just far enough into the middle of the street to make it impossible to pass. Her eyes followed the leering mob in the car, and for a moment she froze into immobility. The girl's head was turned so that she couldn't see her face, but it was Eve. Phyl searched about impatiently, wondering about a parking spot. As it was, the convertible was holding up traffic. The car behind Phyl honked noisily.
"Okay, knock it off," the girl at the wheel yelled belligerently, but she pulled off to one side so that the red Triumph could get through.
Phyl's breath came in anxious gasps as she looked about for a place to park. She had to get back there to Eve. Obviously, those hoodlums were trying to pick her up, and Eve was having no part of it. She sighted a vacant spot, just large enough for her to maneuver the Triumph into its area. She reached for her keys, then swung out of the car, heading resolutely back to the spot where Eve struggled to shake off her so-called admirer.
"Okay, on your way!" Phyl ordered brusquely, her eyes blue steely as they stared down at the shorter huskier girl.
"Well, whadda ya know. She ain't straight," the girl blustered.
"Get going," Phyl said with quiet deliberation. "Or do you want trouble?" She knew if this creep put a hand on Eve again, she'd sock her right across the face.
"Hey, you guys," the girl called forth raucously. "This character here wants a fight!"
Phyl took advantage of the creep's switch in attention to propell Eve swiftly into the crowd ahead. There was no way for the butch in leather jacket and jeans to follow, without starting an all-out brawl, and that gang wasn't looking for police trouble, Phyl guessed.
"Let's go home, Eve," Phyl said quietly, squeezing the small hand in hers.
CHAPTER 7
Phyl and Eve walked swiftly through the sidewalk crowds. It was Friday, the beginning of the tourist weekend, Phyl realized with grim humor. For once she was glad about the tourists—they'd made it possible for the pair of them to break away from that hateful scene. Lord, all she needed was to land in a police precinct in a mess like that!
The two girls walked in silence, until they were at Phyl's building.
"You're trembling," Phyl said compassionately as she held the door for the other girl.
"I'm all right now," Eve managed a smile, her eyes brimming with gratitude. She hadn't realized until now how the encounter with that other girl had shaken her up. It was so sick, so cheap, she thought —and then wanted to brush away the memory because it brought back other things, like Joe's nastiness, his scathing accusations.
Phyl put a hand at Eve's elbow as they began the long climb to the top floor. It had actually happened!
For once she'd been somewhere at just the right time. It was an omen, Phyl told herself jubilantly. They were meant to be together, not just for a night or a week, but the way she'd dreamed. Like a marriage. Phyl said it silently—this was to be her wife.
"Were you terribly angry at me?" Eve's voice was low, while she waited for Phyl to unlock the apartment door.
"How could I be angry? I should have explained to you, instead of dashing off in that crazy fashion." Phyl swung the door open for Eve to enter, then bent to pick up the note that lay across the floor.
"I left a note for you four nights ago," Eve said, as Phyl read it—almost as though ashamed of her own lack of pride.
"And I never thought to
come up here!" How stupid she'd been, Phyl berated herself as she closed the door behind them. "I behaved like a wild one, Eve—driving in and out of the streets around here till people began to recognize me and take me for a lunatic. I sat in coffee shops and restaurants, where I could be by a window and watch people go by. I hated myself for frightening you away." Her eyes enveloped Eve with warmth. She mustn't ruin this now, she warned herself. Everything must be right.
"I tried to find you in the phone book. You weren't listed." Eve glanced uncertainly about the room.
"Come, sit down," Phyl pulled her over to the sofa. "I'll put up the coffee. I'll bet you haven't had dinner," she reproached, taking the small chin in her hand to inspect the face that had haunted her these past days.
"Let me put up the coffee and fix some sandwiches," Eve said impulsively, and Phyl guessed she wanted to recreate that other evening—without interruptions this time. Phyl felt concern and relief giving way to passion now. Her body tingled to love Eve, to know every appealing inch of that slim yet thoroughly feminine body of hers.
"I'll light a fire," Phyl said quietly, almost as though she were afraid, of frightening Eve away. It wasn't really cool but she guessed Eve would like the warmth and light. "Eve," she went on gently as she busied herself at the box that held the logs, "I am listed in the phone book. Not at this apartment—at my place uptown. Under P.A. Talbert, M.D."
Eve swerved about in amazement, the coffee tin in her hand. "You're a doctor?"
"Surprised?" Phyl asked wryly.
"Sort of," Eve acknowledged. "That's why you ran off in such a rush..."
"I'm an obstetrician. I had a patient in labor. I don't know why I didn't simply tell you the truth."
"We have to do things the hard way, don't we?" Eve's eyes were troubled as she went about the business of putting up the coffee. "Is anything ever easy for people like us?"
"It can be." Phyl stood tensely erect, oddly alarmed. "You're thinking about that awful girl back on the street," she guessed instinctively.
"Oh, Phyl, she made us seem so disgusting. Are we like that?" Her eyes were agonized as they met Phyl's. "Are we something to be despised and kicked into the gutter?"
"No!" Phyl crossed the room to her in angry strides. "Don't ever think that way! What you saw was sick, the way the so-called normal people can be sick. The ones like that deserve to be looked upon as freaks." Bitterness crept in now. "But not us, Eve. It can be beautiful, clean, right. We can build a whole lifetime together." She hadn't meant to come out with that yet, but there it was. But then why must she be so sternly cautious about Eve? Didn't she know this was what she wanted? Hadn't she loathed the prospect of playing games, of leading up to what she wanted?
"Phyl, I'm scared," Eve admitted. "Everything's so mixed up in me."
"It's going to be all right now, sweetie," Phyl crooned, holding her close with a tenderness that longed to give way to passion—although not yet, instinct told her. "I'm going to love you and take care of you. We'll be happy together, Eve—you'll see."
"I'm all tied up in knots," Eve laughed shakily. "I have to be loved, Phyl—but I'm afraid of it."
"You weren't afraid with me before," Phyl reminded, her face against Eve's, her large, strong hands caressing Eve's back, feeling the high, provocatively feminine breasts brushing her own. She fought the urge to pull away the clothes that kept Eve from her.
"Tell me it's all right. Tell me it isn't wrong," Eve begged, her eyes closed, her body demanding.
"Darling, it's right," Phyl insisted, then reached for the collar of her coat to help her off with it.
"You're so sure of everything. You're never frightened, Phyl." Eve's eyes met hers with an admiring pride. "But you know how to be tender and sweet—and make me feel wonderful." Her voice sank to a hot whisper, and Phyl knew Eve wanted this as much as she. "Phyl, get rid of all the ugly knots."
"We'll have sandwiches and coffee, and then I'll run a hot tub for you. All right?"
"If you like," Eve acquiesced, knowing that Phyl was deliberately building this passion that tore at both of them, so that when the moment came it would be unbearably wonderful.
"I'll set the table in front of the fire." Phyl's mouth brushed Eve's eyes fleetingly, and then she was in the kitchen reaching for dishes.
Phyl coddled the embryonic fire into a colorful laze and pulled cushions up beside the low coffee table so that they could eat comfortably, without the bother of chairs. Her body sang with expectation. Her eyes strayed to the phonograph as Eve brought sandwiches to the table. The Beethoven Pastoral, she reminded herself—the way it had been before. And tonight there would be no interruptions! Heaven help her if the phone rang—would she have the strength to answer it?
The aroma of coffee drifted across the room, a perfect complement to the fire and the music. Eve moved about the kitchen with an outward quiet contentment, but Phyl knew the fire that raged within her matched her own. She couldn't keep her eyes away from Eve.
They sat on their pillows, eating the sandwiches and sipping at their coffee, making small talk while their bodies communicated the soaring excitement that consumed them. Phyl's ankle grazed Eve's and a flame shot through each.
"I'll run your bath," Phyl said unsteadily, rising to her feet.
She walked into the large old-fashioned bathroom, glad that an earlier tenant had left that full-length panel of mirror before the tub. She would see Eve in that mirror. She would see the two of them loving each other, and she'd know it was real.
Phyl allowed the water to run into the tub, dumping in a handful of the poignantly sweet honeysuckle bath salts that was almost an aphrodisiac to her. Swiftly, she stripped, then reached for the brilliantly red terry cloth robe she kept hanging there.
"More coffee, Phyl?" Eve's voice surprised her in the doorway.
"No," Phyl said huskily, knowing the time had come. "Oh, Eve, honey, I need you!"
She pulled the smaller girl tightly against her, enjoying the feminine scent of her. Her hand found the zipper at the back of her, and guided it gently downward.
"Phyl, I want you to love me so terribly," Eve said, her hands clutching convulsively at Phyl's shoulders. "I'll go crazy if you don't!"
The soft blue wool slid from Eve's shoulders, and Phyl guided it down to the floor, her hands eager to pull away the bra that half-concealed the small yet full white breasts. Eve stirred with satisfaction as Phyl's fingers released the hooks, then swiftly touched with an impassioned gentleness.
"Phyl, I love you," she said, as Phyl worked with a trembling eagerness to free her completely.
"You're beautiful," Phyl said finally. "More than I ever realized." Her eyes swept over the tempting breasts, the slender waist, the faintly swelling hips. The thighs were fuller than she expected—eager for passion, Phyl thought with anticipation.
"Let me see you," Eve coaxed. Her eyes moved to the mirror. "Let me see us together."
Phyl dropped the red robe to the floor, glad that her body was lean and firm—and that Eve desired it. Eve made no secret of that, she thought exultantly. There were no secrets at all between them any more. She lowered her nudity into the chair beside the tub, pulled Eve down to her, enjoying those softly rounded buttocks pressing into her, savoring the ripeness of the high taut breasts, her lips at the white shoulder, tasting delicately.
"That tub will be getting cold," she reminded suddenly, and almost as one they arose to their feet.
"Phyl, don't let it be just tonight," Eve begged with unexpected fervor. "Promise me!"
"For always," Phyl insisted, and guided Eve into the soft fragrant water.
"With me," Eve pleaded, her arms invitingly extended. Tonight would make up for everything. For the brutality and coarseness of Joe, for the dirty memory of Marian, for the lonely nights when her body had ached to be loved. "Oh, Phyl, darling—"
"Eve." Phyl lowered herself into the tub, her hands and her mouth hungry to taste that pliant young body that so frankly wanted her.
/> The room was an oasis in the middle of a desert, and they were two parched travelers drinking their fill.
"Darling, you are so good," Phyl murmured hotly, striving to surmount her impatience because that was the best way for Eve.
"The water's in the way," Eve laughed shakily after a while. "Must we have it?"
"Wait." Phyl arose from the tub and stepped onto the Persian blue shag rug that covered the entire floor. She extended a hand to Eve, to help her to her feet and onto the rug, and for a moment they stood there, body to body, moving together.
"There we are," Eve whispered with satisfaction, nodding toward the mirror. "It's real—no dream!"
"No dream," Phyl insisted, her mouth finding Eve's—her tongue meeting Eve's as the two of them were caught up in one emotion. And then Phyl was gently withdrawing her mouth from Eve's, to pay homage to the panting white breasts... until she felt Eve's hands tighten about her with desire. Her mouth traveled gently, thoroughly loving the slender torso, alternately teasing and caressing now as she neared her ultimate destination.
This was good, Eve thought triumphantly, the way love was meant to be. Phyl knew so perfectly how to arouse her completely. She wasn't in a mad rush, the way Joe had been—she was tender and gentle, but she was so exciting. Eve's hands reached to show her gratitude as Phyl's hands caressed her thighs, carefully coaxed them into position.
"Oh, Phyl!" It was a half-sob, half prayer. The faint sounds of passion that escaped her sent a shiver of excitement through Phyl.
"Am I making you happy?" Phyl wanted to hear her answer. "Am I, darling?" Carefully, she guided Eve down to the rug, her body coming down to meet Eve's now.
"Phyl, yes, yes, yes!"
Better than any man, Eve meant—and Phyl understood without the necessity of words.
The room was silent now except for the sounds of the fulfillment that charged through the two figures blending as one on the Persian blue rug…
CHAPTER 8
Phyl and Eve moved slowly up the final flight to the apartment, with Phyl tugging at the heavy valise.
