Jealous And The Free, The

by March Hastings

When the coffee was ready, she lined the cups on a tray and let Paul carry it inside.

  Anne had found a corner for herself on the window-sill. She had managed to seat herself and cross her legs in a pose that reminded Michele of the cheesecake photographs for Miss Laguna Beach. Yet the more she saw Anne flaunting her body, the more she relaxed, confident in the belief that Leda was made for finer, subtler things.

  But did Leda know this?

  "Do you dance?" Anne asked as Michele brought her a cup.

  "No." She waited patiently for the calculated series of niggles.

  A pencilled eyebrow went up as though to say, What else is there?

  "I don't do anything," Michele continued, beginning to enjoy herself. "Except just what I'm doing right now."

  But before she could go any further, Leda's voice interrupted. "We forgot to feed Boris."

  "I didn't forget," Michele said. "He got it early tonight before I went shopping." She whistled and Boris came out from under the bed.

  "Oh, Mary, look at that," Jonny said, his brassy blonde hair remaining slickly in place as he gestured violently with the upper half of his body.

  Paul snapped his fingers. "Come here, Boris."

  The dog obeyed instantly.

  "I didn't know you had a way with dogs, too, dearie."

  Michele, while ignoring Jonny, felt as though she were observing a new side of Leda. The sociable extrovert. She had never seen Leda tense before. Not in a way that made her smile without reason and gesticulate with the same wild mannerisms that Jonny used. Although Leda didn't use many words, her manner implied crudenesses that seemed forced.

  And by the time everyone left and they were alone once more, Michele felt sure that Leda must be suffering the ravages of a splitting headache.

  Without comment, they both proceeded to clean away cigarette butts and cups.

  "Are those going to be our playmates?" Michele ventured when they were finished.

  "Don't nag at me, please."

  "I didn't mean anything, Leda. It would just be nice to know what's in store for me."

  "You could have gone out if you didn't like it. You have before, you know."

  Michele flushed, embarrassed by the implication in the girl's words. "I won't push," she murmured. She came up to Leda and put her arms around the girl's waist. "They happened to come at the wrong time, that's all."

  She felt Leda sigh.

  "I'm allowed," Michele continued, needing to press the issue until Leda admitted who was boss.

  "Allowed what, honey?" Leda turned her head enough to kiss her on the chin.

  "Allowed to gripe when our love life gets interrupted."

  Leda took her by the wrists and carefully unclasped herself. "No doubt," she said, "that's the exact attitude to keep a girl starry-eyed forever."

  Michele felt her mouth go dry.

  Mistake number three in half as many days. She wondered if perhaps there really weren't some things she'd better learn about women before Leda slipped away from her.

  "I love you," she said.

  "I know it."

  But Leda had turned away and was brushing her hair.

  CHAPTER 6

  Michele lay awake for many hours, watching the girl asleep beside her, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. She did not try to take the girl into her arms, but stayed alone and miserable on the far edge of the bed. Without knowing exactly why, she was terrified. Afraid to sleep, afraid to be awake. Afraid almost to move. For Leda had gone off to bed without a goodnight kiss. Without a word to mend the breach that had occurred between them.

  And what, after all, was there to say?

  Many times during the night Michele had asked herself that question and as the first soft glow of morning touched the rooftops, she had found no answers. For herself there was nothing to say but to pledge her love and her shame over and over again. To mutter, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. For she had no experience against which to measure what had happened between them. She had plunged in blindly, ready to give herself completely, without qualification to the girl she loved. And she had expected the same in return.

  Yet she knew that it was not love the girl withheld from her, but submission. And why, after all, should she expect Leda to give up everything? Obviously, considering her friends and the admission the girl herself had made, Leda knew her way around perfectly well. She'd been through it all before, perhaps many times. Yet, no matter what the girl had experienced, she had maintained a stubborn core of independence that Michele knew she would not be able to break through.

  But she loved the girl with all her heart. And she realized that, because she did, she would have to learn to accept Leda on any terms the girl wanted to make.

  Yet she could not swallow the hard lump of jealousy and frustration lodged in her throat. She squeezed her eyes tight till the tears came, then turned away so that she might not disturb the girl.

  And finally she slept.

  When she awoke, Michele felt that she must have just dozed off. Yet the shafts of sunlight creeping into the bedroom indicated that it was past noon. She leaned on one elbow to peer at the clock. Its usual spot on the table was empty.

  She hitched herself up against the pillows and searched over the partition into the other room.

  Leda stood on her hands with her toes touching the wall between the windows. It was one of her favorite poses and one that always disconcerted Boris. The dog hovered near her, his head cocked far over to one side, trying to peer into Leda's face.

  Michele whistled shrilly between her teeth and Boris came loping into the bedroom. He made a leap toward the bed.

  Michele leaned forward quickly to block his jump. "Not on the bed, damn it," she murmured. Affectionately she grabbed his muzzle with both hands and shook the shaggy head from side to side.

  She heard the gentle thud as Leda landed on her feet and stood up. She did not so much as glance toward the girl, but kept her attention fixed on Boris. Not knowing what to expect, afraid to guess, Michele waited for Leda to make the first move.

  "You know, you're much nicer to Boris than you are to me," Leda's voice teased quietly.

  Michele looked up quickly, relieved by the girl's tone, yet wary of the words.

  Leda leaned against the partition, her chin cupped in her hands. Her body swayed slowly from side to side. The expression on her face was deadly serious.

  A flush started at Michele's feet and burned its way up to her scalp. The fingers of one hand still clutched Boris's shaggy ruff. She didn't for a second suppose that Leda believed what she had said. The girl was playing with her, she knew. Leda rarely took anything seriously. Not even love, obviously. And this ability to cope easily with everything had been one of the most attractive qualities about the girl. Yet now Michele felt distinctly uncomfortable, knowing that she could never outsmart Leda at moments like this. And feeling a little humiliated that Leda chose to make light of a difference between them.

  Still, she said nothing. She gave Boris a shove away from the bed. He sat down, watching her, waiting for her to go on with the game. Slowly, Michele eased herself down under the sheet, wishing she could hide from the cheerful accusation in Leda's eyes.

  "Oh, no you don't," Leda said. In an instant she had pulled herself onto the partition and crouched like a cat ready to spring. "Michele, sit up and look at me."

  Michele closed her eyes.

  "Michele, look at me, damn it!"

  The tone in Leda's voice left no room for disagreement. Michele glanced at the girl and found her smiling.

  "That's better," Leda commented blandly. She pushed herself off the partition and sat down on the bed beside Michele's feet. "You know, my mother used to tell me that if I loved someone and we had a fight, never to go to sleep angry." She tilted her head and the blue eyes softened with emotion. "I'm sorry, honey. I was upset last night, but not with you."

  Michele felt as though a tremendous burden had just slipped from her shoulders. But she kept her features stern
, not yet ready to let the girl know her relief. She dared not allow Leda to think that she could get away with anything she wanted to, just by saying she was sorry. Not if she intended to be boss in this household. The girl would have to understand that their relationship came first, always, and that nothing else could ever really be of importance to either of them. After all, she herself was prepared to give up the world for Leda. And if the girl loved her, there was no reason why Leda shouldn't be willing to do the same.

  If Leda loved her.

  Nervously Michele peered into the girl's face, hoping to find there some trace of reassurance. For she realized suddenly that Leda had not yet said she loved her. Only that she wanted her. Not even that she needed her. A pulse began ticking in Michele's throat, throbbing, nearly choking her with her own fear. She swallowed hard, but the tight knot of worry would not dislodge itself.

  "Well?" Leda said.

  "Well what?" Michele heard the dismal croak in her own voice and knew that Leda would understand. Yet she did not even try to disguise her feelings. She had to know the truth now, once and for all.

  One plucked eyebrow arched ever so slightly. "Are you going to forgive me or..." She hesitated and leaned forward, her lips parted, one hand moving to caress Michele's thigh.

  Despite herself, Michele responded instantly to Leda's touch, all of her decisions to be strong beginning to vanish before the rush of physical desire. Yet she kept a tight rein on her feelings, afraid to let the girl realize the power she wielded. "Why should I forgive you?" she said hoarsely. "You sure as hell didn't give me any consideration last night."

  "Oh, I see," Leda breathed. "That's the way it's going to be." Her voice was low, barely audible.

  "That's the way it has to be," Michele said firmly. She began to feel a rise of confidence. "Either I come first... or not at all."

  Leda crept up beside Michele, extending her body full length on the sheets. "Honey, if you don't know..." she began.

  Michele felt herself tense as Leda snuggled close against her. She wanted Leda to say it, to tell her she loved and needed her. She didn't want it to end this way. Yet she felt her heart beginning to pound and a sudden wave of dizziness swept over her as Leda's lips touched her throat.

  Unsteadily she reached up to grab the girl's wrists. "Leda, don't," she whispered. "Please don't."

  The girl recoiled as though she had been slapped. "What's the matter with you?" she said with annoyance. "One minute you're claiming you love me and the next..." She pulled one hand away from Michele and gestured disgustedly. "I love you, too, but I don't know how to put up with your moods, Michele. I really don't."

  A tremor of relief shivered through Michele. She raised herself on one elbow and peered intently into Leda's eyes. "You love me?" she asked. "Really?"

  "Of course I do, you ninny." She laughed. "I did, long before you got any ideas."

  Michele flushed. "What makes you so sure?"

  "Oh, what difference does it make?" Leda said impatiently. "Nothing matters now, but us." She leaned up and forward suddenly, pushing Michele back against the bed. Her hand moved beneath the sheet to caress Michele's naked belly.

  Michele sucked in her breath as Leda's fingers caught and squeezed a breast. Her arms went around the girl's waist, pulling her tight.

  Leda's mouth came down hard on hers, her tongue darting, probing. Her fingers moved along Michele's ribs, trailed down to the quivering thighs.

  Michele tried to raise herself, to turn the girl onto her back and be aggressive with her.

  But Leda held her down. "You play femme this morning," she whispered against Michele's ear. "I owe you this one."

  Michele smiled then and surrendered herself willingly to Leda's eager caress. Everything, everything was going to be all right for them. For always, just as it was at this moment.

  She felt the girl's warm soft hands against her flesh, the lips touching her gently, moving downward.

  And the world spun away from her as she climbed, breathless, toward completion. A low moan escaped her lips. Her fingers tightened in the girl's hair.

  And then she lay still again, depleted, content.

  Leda moved up beside her, her long blonde hair tickling across her ribs. "Feel better?"

  "Feel great," Michele grinned.

  Leda leaned forward and kissed her quickly on the lips. Then she jumped up and started toward the other room.

  "Hey," Michele yelped. "It's my turn."

  "I don't have time," Leda flung after her. "I'm late now."

  Michele sighed and rolled onto her belly. She listened to the busy sounds Leda made in the kitchen as she prepared to leave for school. Already her body had forgotten the fleeting moment of satisfaction and she felt the dread weight of frustration settling into her limbs.

  Or was it fear still?

  Clutching the pillow tightly, Michele closed her eyes and tried hard not to think about Leda at school. Leda half naked in those damned tights, surrounded by other girls in the same condition. The girl had finally declared her love. And Michele knew in her head that she had neither right nor reason to be jealous.

  Yet in her heart she was not so sure.

  In a few moments she heard the girl's footsteps hurrying toward her. She rolled onto her back and tried to smile.

  "Have fun," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  Leda leaned down for a kiss. "You'd better take Boris out soon," she said. "He hasn't been yet."

  "Okay," Michele nodded. "Then I think I'd better see about getting a new job." She glanced up for Leda's nod of approval. "We'll be needing the money."

  "Will you be home when I get back?"

  Leda got home precisely at seven thirty, Michele knew. If she set out now to find a job, she might herself be working till much later. "I'm not sure," she said slowly, almost angrily, not wanting to lose even a moment of the time she might spend with the girl. "But I'll try."

  "I'll be late myself tonight," Leda said easily. Michele felt the skin crawl on the back of her neck. "Why?"

  Leda turned away and picked up her purse from the desk. "I told you a few days ago. We're having a birthday party for one of the girls."

  Vaguely Michele recalled Leda's having mentioned something of the sort. At the time it hadn't impressed her. Leda often went out. She had many friends. Yet...

  "You aren't going, are you?" Michele blurted.

  Leda did not look at her. "I said I would, Michele." Her tone was very gentle, as though she were speaking to a child. "You wouldn't want me to go back on my word."

  Michele flushed self-consciously, feeling more than a little foolish, yet unable to control the rush of insecurity seething inside her. Her hands balled into tight fists. "Well, can't you make up an excuse or something?" she asked belligerently.

  "I could," Leda said dubiously.

  But you don't want to, Michele finished miserably to herself. You'd rather be with them than with me.

  She decided to give it one last try. "Well, then, why can't I go with you?"

  Leda turned to face her squarely, the beautiful young face struggling to conceal its annoyance. "Only the kids from class will be there," she said patiently. "I don't think you'd have a very good time."

  Michele felt a terrible battle waging inside her head. She had promised herself to do everything she could to keep the girl happy. And certainly this was as good a place as any to start. She should kiss the girl and send her off with love and best wishes.

  Yet something ugly inside her would not let her set the girl free. Demanded that the girl give in to her this time. To prove... To prove what?

  Michele reached out for the girl's hand. "They have you all day," she said, trying to make her tone light. "I think I'm entitled..."

  Quickly Leda stepped out of her reach. "I have to go," she said. "Right now."

  "Wait," Michele said, sitting up. "I only..."

  Leda shook her head sternly. "No, I won't wait," she said. "If you trust me, Michele, you'll trus
t me whether I'm holding your hand or a million miles away. And if you don't..." she spread her fingers helplessly.

  Michele groaned. "But how can I trust you, if I don't even know where you are or what you're doing?"

  Leda hesitated for just a second. Then she shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to work that out for yourself," she said finally. "But I might remind you that I haven't tried to put a leash on you. For your own good, I hope you'll understand that I don't need one either."

  She blew Michele a kiss off her fingertips. "I'll be home about eleven," she said.

  And then she was gone, leaving Michele to stare glumly after her.

  For a long time Michele sat there, frowning deeply, trying to pluck a straw of courage from the chaos inside her.

  How could she ever learn to live by Leda's standards? Yet she knew that she must, for certainly Leda would never accept hers.

  And if she lost Leda...

  Michele could not even finish the thought. She pushed herself off the bed and whistled softly for Boris.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sitting by the scarred and battered wooden table in the kitchen, Michele picked up another sheet of blank white paper and centered it neatly on the clipboard. Reflectively she tapped the pen against her front teeth and tried to recapture her train of thought. Six sheets of carefully printed prose rested in a pile at her elbow and already she had worked the heroine of her story into a hell of a mess. Yet, when she had glanced up at the clock just now, the heroine's plight had become considerably less urgent than her own.