"Hi," Michele echoed. The city noises seemed to fade as she absorbed Leda's smile.
"I like it," Leda said, taking a short step back and surveying her from the ground upward. When her examination reached Michele's face again, she said, "You're blushing."
Michele remained silent, feeling the prickle of heat in her cheeks intensify.
"I like you when you're embarrassed.”
"Let's get out of here," Michele managed. "You must starving by now."
"After all those burned eggs you fed me?" The conversation seemed relentless. And Leda's examination had become even more so. "If you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to melt.”
"Go ahead. I'd love it."
She had never before heard such gentle pleasure in Leda's voice. And the agony of such intense attention subsided a little as they walked.
"Let's drop in here," Leda said as they passed an Automat. "I only have half an hour."
A tiny wave of disappointment rippled across Michele's sense of well being. But she did not try to object. Perhaps later they would go someplace with dim lights and quiet.
The rattle and clatter of suppertime, the rushing and hovering of people with laden trays did not seem to bother Leda at all. She snaked her way to the change counter and unfolded two singles. Then she dropped the handful of quarters and nickels into Michele's cupped palms.
"I'll get us a place," Leda said. "You get the food.”
Michele nodded, feeling she had no choice but to go along with the businesslike attitude required.
As she pushed a tray along the front of the steam counter, she realized that she knew Leda's preferences as though by second nature. Expertly she moved the heavy weight of dishes back along a zigzagging path until she spotted Leda at a table for two in front of the plate glass window.
Michele began setting out the silver, trying to place the napkins neatly. "How come you didn't ask me what I'm doing here?" she asked, surprised at her own casualness.
"Because I know," Leda replied, helping with the dishes.
"Oh?"
"Not all women are equally mysterious," she laughed. "You least of all, my sweet one."
Michele adjusted her chair and sipped slowly on her glass of chocolate. "I didn't know I was all that transparent." She felt the wooden blocks of self-disappointment settling on her shoulders.
"One needn't be mysterious to be loved," Leda's voice lilted. "Besides which, I ought to give you a tip."
"Oh?"
"Yes." She sipped at her iced tea. "You're much too vulnerable to my needling."
Michele picked up half a sandwich without meeting Leda's gaze. This was the second blunder she had made ; today. It seemed that the safest place to be with Leda was in bed. No words, no snags, no revelations of inadequacy.
"We'll just see who's vulnerable," she said under her breath, thinking about Leda's eager response in the darkness.
Yet there were so many hours to go before she would have the girl home again. How many more traps and pitfalls would she stumble into before that? Michele sat there and watched the lamplights go on suddenly along the street, making but dim marks in the still blue sky.
Love with Leda had become a mined field. And her superficial appearance of confidence could not fill in the empty place that needed Leda's approval. She had seen too many people ignite on first meeting, only to fizzle out painfully because one or the other of them couldn't remain amusing. She believed that she could stand up to any test, any challenge and meet it, just so long as she knew that her insufficiencies would not come, in time, to bore the girl. Boredom seemed the worst humiliation of all.
And when it happened, it came on so irrevocably. "You look so far away," Leda interrupted her thoughts.
"I was."
"Where?"
"With the phantasms that tell me how to keep a big-city girl like you interested," she said dismally, but trying to keep a smile.
"Oh, Michele," Leda's hand clenched. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet."
The appeal caught Michele and held her fast.
She leaned toward Leda earnestly. "Even if it's been only two minutes," she whispered, "I don't want to lose you. I don't ever want to lose you."
"Why on earth should you think such a thing?"
Why, indeed? Did it have anything to do with reality?
No answer came to Michele's lips. She could only sit on her side of the revolving condiment tray and watch Leda above the circle of ketchup, sugar, mustard and soy sauce.
No words could ever prove to Leda the depth of her feelings, Michele knew. Only by learning to behave like a human being would she be able to impress the girl. And she had certainly done nothing of the kind as yet.
It would take time... but she would learn.
"I'll pick you up at seven thirty," she said at last, her lips stiff with a determination that seemed to be pushing her to the edge of a high, unknown cliff.
CHAPTER 4
"The things I could tell you about women would curl your crew cut."
Michele nodded and sipped at her fourth glass of beer. She rolled her eyes up to the clock above the bar. "Better make it a synopsis." Her tongue stumbled over the syllables and she let her jaw fall shut.
He shook his head. "Couldn't do it." He took out a pipe and knocked it against the back of his palm. "These kinds of things you gotta show."
She heard him exhale heavily. A fan whirred someplace. The bartender was slowly drying glasses at the far end of the counter. "You're pulling my leg," she said.
"So think what you wanta think, girlie. But I seen women six times around this mother lovin' world. And I know what I know." He clamped the pipe between his teeth and blew into the stem.
Michele leaned her cheek on the heel of her hand. She felt a hiccough stuck in the center of her chest. Her left foot had fallen asleep and it tingled. But she felt no desire to move.
"You don't know a damned thing I don't know," she said. "What's to know, anyhow?"
"What's to know, she says." He laughed a short spasm with his thick shoulders.
"That's right," Michele repeated, "what's to know?" She turned slightly on the stool and squinted into the lined and bloated face with red stubble that glinted in the fluorescent lighting. She watched him shake his head.
"Well?" she said.
He inhaled a long breath. "I don't say such things in front of ladies."
Michele's attention swivelled back to the second hand circling the numbers relentlessly. Of course there was nothing to know. No new thrills to bring to Leda.
But what if there were?
What if she could surprise her with something... exotic?
I'm not so goddamned naive.
She fished out enough money to pay for the beers and pushed herself off the stool. The room swayed for a moment. She blinked it steady and marched stiff-legged out of the bar.
A faint breeze touched her skin. The red and blue neons of Lexington Avenue bounced on and off in a silent, nervous pattern. She felt an urge to throw a huge blanket over everything, to calm the world down. Carefully she made her way back toward the school, cursing the place under her breath for being such a damned nuisance.
But what did school really matter? You couldn't make love to a school. Not even Leda could do that.
She hailed a cab and got the driver to park right in front of the entrance. No more Automats. No more beers. Nothing was going to get in the way anymore.
When Leda came out, Michele opened the door and pulled her inside.
"Where're we going in such a hurry?" Leda asked, letting herself fall back against the seat.
"You know where." She turned to Leda.
"Do I?"
"Yeah. We've had enough red tape for one evening." She crossed her legs and took Leda's hand onto her lap.
"I think so, too."
Michele heard the acquiescence. She felt the pliable body fall against her as the taxi veered around corners. This was the way to be butch! A shiver of satisfaction trem
bled along her back. She put an arm around Leda's shoulder and held her close the rest of the way home.
They climbed the five flights in silence. She watched the tendons in Leda's legs stretch and contract with each step. A warm sense of possession expanded Michele's feelings. She would never have dreamed such docility could come from Leda.
Yet here they were. And it was pretty damned obvious who the boss was.
She waited while Leda unlocked the door.
"Not now, Boris," she heard Leda say, pushing the dog back from leaping up on her.
"It's okay. Let him go," Michele said with benevolence.
"In your condition? He'll knock you over." Leda's gentle laugh slapped.
"What condition?"
"Nothing, darling. I was only playing with you."
Michele grunted and wove her way around Boris's great furry bulk. The apartment seemed to welcome her. She let out a grateful breath at the thought of climbing back into her old jeans. Then she remembered what had become of them.
She leaned against the wall and grimaced down at the sandals rubbing the soft flesh of her toes.
"Come on, let's get those off," Leda said gently.
Before Michele could protest, Leda had bent down to undo the thongs.
For a moment Michele stared down at the round crown of Leda's blonde head. Then slowly she crumpled to the floor beside the girl. Her hands went to the sides of Leda's face and held her rigid while she pressed her lips to the mouth that seemed to be waiting, beckoning.
She pulled her along the floor until Leda's body lay stretched out beneath her own. Forcing a hand beneath the girl's back, she lifted her up slightly, moved by a wild strength that wanted to pick Leda up and run away high into the mountains with her prize... where no one could ever interest Leda in other things.
"Put your arms around me," Michele said with the roughness that overwhelmed her. "Hug me like you mean it."
She heard the breath go out of Leda in a gasp.
Then Michele felt a tongue on her ear. "Boris, get the hell out of here!"
She pushed herself up to her knees while Boris sat down and looked at her, his eyes sparkling, ready to play. From the floor she heard a giggle. Her glance whipped down to Leda. The giggle was stifled.
With an angry yank, she pulled Leda up from the floor and half-carried, half-dragged her to the bed.
"You don't have to rape me," Leda said, as she fell back onto the mattress. "I want to, baby. I really do."
"Then prove it."
"You know I do."
The gently soft, slow voice that could convince Michele of anything wound around her along with Leda's caress. They lay side by side now and began to undress each other, the episode with Boris forgotten.
Michele put her head between Leda's breasts and pressed them to her ears, wanting, needing to blot out all sound with the warm flesh.
She felt fingertips graze along the insides of her arms, then along the sides of her own breasts. Instinctively her head moved lower, searching along the yielding, fragrant flesh on which her head seemed to float with the gentle motion of Leda's breathing.
"Don't stop," Leda whispered.
Michele felt the pressure of an insistent hand.
"Love me, baby, please."
She wanted to answer to reassure Leda. Yet instinctively she knew there could be only one answer that would have meaning for them both. Her parted lips continued to search and she felt with the tip of her tongue for the passion that she wanted to capture for herself always.
Leda's thighs quivered and tightened. Her hips began to rotate, urging Michele. "Oh, hurry. Get there, honey. Do it."
I love you. The words rocketed inside Michele's head. She clung with her hands to Leda, rocking in a rhythm that grew ever faster.
Suddenly Leda's back arched and froze. A tense sigh escaped her lips.
Michele felt the perspiration running between her breasts. The girl reached out both hands and drew her up.
She took Leda in her arms and held her lightly, watching the girl drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER 5
To Michele it seemed but a moment that they had been together. And whoever was knocking at the door had no right to intrude.
She closed her eyes and lay very still.
But Leda said, "Aren't you going to answer it?"
"I thought you were asleep."
"I was." She twisted out of Michele's arms. "I'll go."
She heard Leda's little squeal of delight and knew that she had no alternative but to get up and dress. As Leda came bounding back into the room for her own clothes, Michele said, "Seems to me you see enough of those people all day without them coming around this time of night."
"What time do you think it is, dopey?"
Michele winced inside. She wanted to tell Leda it wasn't the time of night that really mattered. But then she would have to explain what did matter.
And what could she say to a girl who had so suddenly become interested in other people?
In silence Michele switched on the table lamp, pulled on her clothes and ran a comb through her hair. Their evening together was really only half complete. The nervousness she felt was a physical one rather than an actual grudge against Leda's friends. But how could she remind the girl of something that ought to be so obvious?
As she tied the sandals painfully back around her irritated feet, she heard two male voices and a female one in counterpoint to Leda's. Then she was in the living room, all three eying her with poorly veiled knowledge of her predicament.
"This is Jonny and this is Paul and this is Anne." Leda did a half pirouette in the way of a mime introduction.
Michele nodded, holding her breath as she looked for any signs of competition. She had met very few of Leda's friends and had ignored all of them. Now, suddenly, everything that touched Leda's life had taken on a great importance.
"You have a darling place," Jonny said.
Instinctively, Michele knew that she would have no trouble from this one.
"Just sit down anywhere," Leda said.
"I forgot to return these," Anne said, taking out a folded pair of black tights from her purse.
She seemed to be ignoring Michele, yet Michele knew that Anne had already assessed every inch of her. Michele pushed herself up onto the partition and dangled her legs carelessly.
She had to admit that this little redhead was attractive in a bitchy sort of way that made her skin crawl. She didn't like the wide olive and black skirt trying to proclaim her a bohemian. Everything about Anne from the dangling silver earrings to the spike heeled black shoes set Michele's teeth on edge.
How strange that Leda should be her good friend.
"I don't care if you're the Pope, those are my beads!" Jonny made a wild grab for the locket that Leda was hooking around her neck.
Everyone laughed except Michele.
She felt her teeth grind together. "Would anyone like some coffee?" she said, needing to break up the artificial rising of hysteria.
"I'd love some," Paul nodded. "Let me help you."
She had expected Leda to say this. And because Leda seemed to have ignored the offer, she blotted out Paul's response, too. Angrily, she swung off the partition and strode from the room.
In the kitchen, she turned the tap on full force into the aluminum coffee pot.
"I don't blame you," a voice said behind her. "My roommate used to have parties at three on Sunday nights. Some people have more stamina than others."
Michele waited until she felt sure that her voice would be under control. "We'll just blame it on the leotards this time," she said.
Paul leaned against the stove and watched her measuring out the coffee. "Espresso? That'll be a treat."
She looked into his wide spaced eyes and found them steady. "I bought it for Leda. It's her favorite coffee."
The eyes did not flicker. Nor did they make fun of her. "I'm sure she appreciates it."
"Are you?"
She didn't know what
she wanted Paul to say to her. But silently she pleaded for any assurance at all, from anywhere. Desperation for a friend seemed suddenly to overwhelm her. There was no one she knew with whom she could talk about Leda. No one who might understand. In one night, she seemed to have changed worlds. And she felt vaguely as though she had left all her precious possessions back in the other one.
Paul struck a match and put it to the gas burner. "Leda never struck me as the type to show her feelings—her real, personal feelings, that is—out in public."
"Maybe not," Michele agreed. She liked the pitch of his voice. And she knew that he was trying to be friendly. Even if the words he said couldn't help her, maybe the tone of them would be able to soothe the ruffled edges of her feelings about the girl.
She reached into the cupboard and brought out five cups with saucers that didn't quite match.
Paul took them from her and set them on the table. He seemed to have caught her message and vaguely she could hear him rambling on while she kept her ears on the conversation going on in the other room.
Michele listened to the words and realized how much nothing was being said in exuberant sentences. Leda couldn't possibly be interested in something this inane.
Jealous And The Free, The Page 3
