Sex Between, The (10 page)

"I have missed you," Cleo murmured. Then she sighed. “I don't think you have thought about me at all."

"Oh, yes I have," Lee said honestly. "I've been thinking about you a lot."

"Oh?" There was a greedy pleasure in Cleo's eyes. "And did you remember what we said?''

"Every word," Lee answered, knowing that Cleo was interested in only one thing.

"Then you still want me to come live with you?" With her free hand, Cleo reached to touch a fingertip to Lee's chin.

Lee, who was in no mood to play octopus, gave up trying to ward off Cleo's wandering hands. She lay back with her eyes closed and felt Cleo's fingers working at the buttons of her blouse.

"Why not?" Lee murmured. "It'll save wear and tear on the car."

The fingers moved inside her blouse and under the edge of her slip. They barely touched her, yet she was aware of them trailing featherlike across one breast.

"I think I must be getting used to you," Cleo said calmly. "I do not want to kill you any more when you talk like that."

"You mean you're bored already?" Lee said, half wishing it were so.

"No, of course not, silly." Cleo ducked her lips to the hollow of Lee's throat. "It is just such a strange way for someone to say I love you."

Oh, baby, Lee thought, if you only knew.

"What makes you think I do?" Lee said. The fingers were moving down now, unfastening her skirt. In a moment, she would have to untie the sash of Cleo's robe. Have to touch her, fondle her. She had known sex to be exciting, funny. She had known it to be a bore or an aggravation. But never had she known it to be like this. A sick thing, filling her with guilt, with anxiety.

"If you did not love me," Cleo murmured, "you would not be here with me."

Lee took hold of one end of the sash and pulled it free. Then she turned on her side and buried her mouth against the soapy sweet flesh. Was it only three days ago that she had come panting to Cleo's bed? Three days ago...

Cleo's palm caressed the back of her head. "Love me, Lee," she crooned. "Love me and I will make you happy."

Lee closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of herself crawling over Cleo's voluptuous frame. In a few days, this body would be beside her in her own bed. This woman would be demanding that she be loved. That she be cherished and pampered. This woman would move into her house, into the kitchen... Maggie's kitchen.

The thought of it churned up the alcohol and clam juice and for a moment, Lee held her breath. Then the wave of nausea passed and she swallowed hard, seeking equilibrium.

Cleo's hand cupped her chin. "You do not want to make love to me," she said accusingly, but gently.

Lee shook her hands against the confining hands. "I do," she lied. "The clam juice just came up to say hello."

"Then hold me," Cleo said. "It is all right."

With infinite relief, Lee took the woman in her arms and held her close, letting her hand circle on Cleo's back. If she could only lie like this, feeling the warmth of Cleo without the lust of her, it would be just fine. In a few moments, she would be asleep. And in sleep, nothing could hurt her. Nothing...

But she should have known better. Cleo was predictable that way. She felt the warmth become feverish. Felt Cleo's body moving in on her, pressing up against her. Not hard, but with insistence. Demanding that Lee want her, just as she demanded that Lee love her.

"Lee..." Cleo murmured.

It sounded almost like a prayer.

Lee rolled to her, burying her face against Cleo's neck. Maybe, if she didn't look... Maybe, if she didn't think about it...

The breath fizzled out of her and she knew it was no good. She could not make love to Cleo tonight if her life depended on it. And, in a way, it did.

Cleo was crying against her shoulder, the tears soaking hotly through Lee's blouse.

"I'm sorry," Lee whispered, her cheeks hot with shame. "I..."

"You do not want me," Cleo said bitterly. She pushed away from Lee and hung on the edge of the couch. "I knew it last night, when you did not come to me. I knew it tonight, when you walked in the door."

"Don't be silly," Lee tried to soothe her. "I wouldn't be here if—"

"You would be here for many reasons," Cleo said sharply. "You would be here because you want someone you cannot have."

It was like a barbed dart straight through her heart. She waited for Cleo to yank it out again and leave her to bleed to death.

"Do you think I do not know why you have wrinkles in your forehead?" Cleo went on. "They speak very clearly to a woman. They say that you are in love with someone, but you are running away."

Lee lay very quiet, listening to Cleo's words, but not really hearing the words. Cleo was not raucous or coarse as Helga had been. But she was just as observant. Lee wondered vaguely if she were as transparent to Maggie as she was to these two.

"Why are you running away?" Cleo asked quietly.

For a long moment, Lee was silent. Then she sighed. "If I told you, you'd laugh in my face," she said lightly.

"I will not laugh," Cleo said seriously. "I like you too well."

Lee peered at her curiously for a moment. Then she said, "Am I supposed to believe that?"

"That I like you?"

"Uh-huh."

"But I do," Cleo said. Then she laughed. "Not like I would love a man, that is true. But as I would love a child I think. I have said you are like a little boy. And it is so. You are trying to be like me, running and looking and pretending you do not want anything but excitement. For me, it is true. But for you, it is a lie."

"Which means what?" Lee said angrily.

"That you are fooling yourself. That you want someone to put a collar around your neck and lead you home." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Lee's forehead. "You want a woman to be a wife to you, Lee," she said solemnly. "Not a toy."

Lee sat up on the edge of the couch, very carefully avoiding Cleo's glance. "If you're such a damned authority on what I want," she growled, "why the hell am I so miserable with you?"

Cleo's laugh tinkled through the room. Lee waited, fiddling with the buttons on her blouse. "I did not mean to laugh," Cleo murmured. "But you are a fool, Lee. You should not have come to me, when you wanted to be with someone else. You should have gone to her."

It was Lee's turn to laugh now. It was a bitter, rasping sound in her ears. Cleo made it sound so simple. Like all she had to do was go home and find Maggie and tell her that...

All of a sudden, she smiled and a warm glow of peace began to filter through her nerve-racked body. She turned to Cleo then and kissed her full on the mouth.

"You are smiling," Cleo observed. "For a change, I have said something right."

"You have indeed," Lee grinned. She stood up quickly and began to straighten the rumpled mess of her clothes.

"Then we are saying good bye," Cleo murmured sadly.

The question brought Lee up short. For a moment, she turned it over in her mind curiously. She knew she would not care if she never saw Cleo again. She also knew that on Sunday, Maggie would still be marrying Pieter... no matter what happened between them tonight.

She turned to look down at the girl. "No, not good-by," she said slowly.

"You still want me?" Cleo said incredulously.

"I still need you," Lee said simply. "Will that do?"

Cleo nodded. "It means even more than to be wanted." She touched Lee's hand. "When will I see you?"

"Soon," Lee said. "I have to take care of something I should have done a long time ago. But I'll be back." She paused. "And you might as well be packed and ready to go."

Sadly, Cleo shook her head. "You do not make any sense," she said gently. "You do not make any sense at all."

Lee retrieved her jacket and slid into it quickly. "I do," she said, "but not the kind you would understand."

She left Cleo gaping after her and slammed out of the apartment. She went down the steps by threes and burst out into the warm quiet of night. It was past midnight and dark with a feeling of more rain in the air. And she needed the darkness and the damp, needed to be alone with herself, to think and to walk. To breathe and to pull the pieces of herself back together again.

She headed the car crosstown, away from home, wanting the river and the blinking of lights on water. There, she always found peace, when there was no peace anywhere else in the world. There, she could turn off Cleo and Helga and the long parade of females that had preceded them. There, she could think about Maggie and maybe, if she were lucky, she would know what to do.

She lit a cigarette and watched the smoke curl past her head to drift out over the river. Bathed in the stream of Cleo's words, she had felt so sure of herself. And so sure of Maggie. It made sense, then, that they could be adults about the whole thing. Take whatever hours of pleasure they could find together, then move on to the lives Kate had predestined for them without sorrow and without regret. She wasn't at all sure she could be so flip about it herself, but she was willing to try. It would be worth a lifetime of nothing-after to spend one night with Maggie. It really would. After all, there had not really been anything before.

But it was for Maggie that she was afraid. Maggie, who would have to move from her bed into Pieter's. Maggie, who needed love and gentleness. Maggie, who loved her...

She would rather die than do anything to hurt Maggie. She would rather die than live with the thought of Maggie, miserable and frustrated with Pieter, remembering a moment's joy...

And yet, why not? Better, Lee tried very hard to convince herself, to have the memory of one perfect moment than to have no memories at all. Better for Maggie... and better for herself.

Disgustedly, she flipped the cigarette over the railing into the breeze. Who was she to decide what was good for Maggie? And heaven knows, she had never been particularly smart about what was good for herself. If she had any sense, she would just leave the girl alone— avoid trouble by not starting it. If she had any sense, she would hop a plane for Europe and just get lost.

If she had any sense..
.

Glumly, Lee lit another cigarette and stared out at the water.

CHAPTER NINE

At three o'clock, Lee finally decided it would be safe to go home.

It was a warm night—clear, with stars sparkling so close she felt she could reach out a hand and touch them. Around her, lovers still huddled together on benches. It was spring, the season for love, the season for benches. But none of it touched her now. Her body felt dragged out and smoked out and weary beyond words. For hours she had toyed with the idea... to do or not to do. Knowing that she wanted to, yet knowing that she did not really believe that it was right. She had had too many one-night stands in her life, knew too well the subtle damage they could do. She could not do that to Maggie, not even in the name of love.

But by now the girl would surely be asleep. And in the morning there would be work to do. Busy work, to keep both of them distracted and occupied.

She parked the car and strolled along the quiet street, wondering how many years it would be before she felt sleepy again. She had not slept soundly since the knowledge of what she felt for Maggie had begun to niggle at her brain. Now, she was filled with a wild restlessness. It was as if she would never again find a place for herself.

As she neared the house, her eyes automatically followed a line up to the top floor.

Maggie, apparently, was as restless as she. Lee stopped in the shadow of a tree, staring up at the lighted windows. As she watched, Maggie's shadow moved across the light, then her face appeared against the pane. Lee could not see her clearly. Yet she knew instinctively that Maggie was looking for her—just as she had looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of Maggie.

And she knew that she should keep right on walking, straight across town and into the Hudson River. Away from Maggie, as fast as her legs could carry her.

But her steps turned toward the house and she hurried a little. Suddenly not tired any more. Wanting Maggie and needing her and not caring now about right or wrong or about anything else. They had so little time...

So little time. But time enough. Time enough for her to do it right, to pay court like a gentleman, to woo Maggie a little. To pretend that tomorrow was only tomorrow and not the end of the world.

She went through to the kitchen and made a pot of cocoa, because she knew that Maggie liked cocoa before she went to sleep. She fixed the tray neatly, as Maggie would have fixed it, with white cups and crisp linen napkins. She cocked her head to look at it, then went out to the garden for a bright red tulip. When she was satisfied with the effect, she lifted the tray carefully and went out to wind her way up the steps to the fourth floor.

She balanced the tray securely on one palm while she tapped at the door.

Instantly Maggie called, "Come in."

The pleasure in Maggie's voice told Lee everything she had never wanted to know. Gingerly she turned the knob and pushed her way inside.

Maggie—in soft, clinging, baby-blue pajamas—jumped up instantly to take the tray. Lee watched as she moved to set it down on a low table near the bed. It was the first time since they were kids that she had seen Maggie in anything less than full battle dress. And Maggie in pajamas was the sexiest thing she had ever laid eyes on.

"I didn't hear you come in," Maggie said in a tone that admitted she had been listening. She poured a cup for each of them and handed one to Lee.

Lee sat down with her cup into one of Maggie's black leather sling chairs. "I've only been here a few minutes," she said. "I saw your light on when I came in, so..."

"I'm glad you did," Maggie said. She sat down on the edge of the bed and balanced the cup on her knee. "I couldn't sleep, for some reason. I guess I'm just so upset that..." Her voice trailed away into silence.

Lee tilted her head and peered at the girl curiously. Something was biting Miss Maggie. And Lee had a feeling it had nothing to do with her.

"About what?" Lee said.

Maggie took a sip of the hot cocoa and glanced at Lee over the rim of the cup.