69 Barrow Street (13 page)

Then Susan said: “I wanted to see you.”

“Oh?”

Susan didn’t say anything.

“Why?”

“I think you know why.”

“To borrow a cup of sugar?”

“No.”

“That’s the general reason in the stories. People are always dropping in on other people to borrow a cup of sugar. I don’t know—maybe the line’s so worn-out that nobody uses it anymore.”

“I don’t want any sugar.”

“Oh?” A smile appeared on Stella’s lips and light danced in her eyes. Susan’s lips formed a thin line. She didn’t smile. She didn’t say anything.

“Well, you would have been out of luck if that’s what you came for. I don’t use sugar—don’t even keep it around the house.”

Susan was beginning to get annoyed. Making conversation was one thing but playing games was another. And she didn’t want to play games.

For a moment she considered getting up and getting out. Hell, she wasn’t so hard up that she had to chase after another woman. But she changed her mind and decided to stay. If Stella wanted to play it that way she would be willing to make the concession.

“If it wasn’t sugar, what in the world did you come for?”

“You know.”

“I do?”

“Of course you do.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Susan’s anger flared. “Damn it, you know what I came for and you want me. I know you want me—you made that obvious every time I’ve seen you. Why do you have to drive me crazy like this?”

Stella smiled.

“Please,” Susan said. “Please.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you want me?”

In answer Stella’s hand dropped to Susan’s thigh. The girl’s flesh was soft but firm beneath the thin fabric of the blue dress. Stella’s hand lingered there for a moment before she spoke, her fingers kneading the girl’s thigh gently.

“Of course I want you.”

“Then—”

“I just wanted to be sure,” she went on. Her hand moved higher.

“How could you help being sure?”

Stella laughed. “You spend so much time with Ralph, I thought maybe I was wrong and you weren’t gay after all. I guess I was mistaken.”

Susan’s mouth opened and she started to say how things were between her and Ralph, that she was in love with him. But the words refused to come out. Somehow she knew that this woman would only laugh at the private hell she was going through. She remembered what Ralph had said to her about Stella and decided that he was right.

Susan stood up. “If you want to talk,” she said levelly, “you can find somebody else to talk to. I don’t feel in the mood for conversation.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then—”

Stella stood up, the taunting smile fading into a stare of unashamed lust. “I want you,” she said. “I’ve wanted you all along. Come here.”

Susan moved closer to the woman. Their eyes met.

“Look at me.”

Susan did as she was told. Slowly her eyes travelled the length of Stella’s body, studying the swelling calves, the tightly muscled thighs, the wide hips and flat stomach and the high, full, glorious breasts. Her gaze took in the blonde hair, the perfect features, the deep eyes.

“Do you like what you see?”

Susan nodded. She couldn’t speak.

“Take off my halter.”

Her fingers trembling, Susan reached around the woman and groped for the catch on the polka dot halter. The movement brought their bodies together and Susan felt Stella’s body press against her, felt the softness of her breasts and the strength in her hips and thighs.

After two false starts her fingers managed to undo the catch on the halter. She pulled it off and dropped it to the floor, her mouth forming a little O at the sight of Stella’s breasts. They were so big, so perfect, so completely white except for the hard red nipples.

“Look at me.”

The command was unnecessary. Susan couldn’t have possibly looked elsewhere.

“Now the shorts.”

Susan bent over and reached for the front of Stella’s shorts. Her fingers had a great deal of trouble with the button at the top but she finally managed to get it open. Then came the zipper which was easier. When the zipper was unzipped she had to pull the shorts down over Stella’s hips and thighs. The bigger girl stood completely motionless, making no move to assist her. At last the shorts dropped to the floor and Stella stepped out of them. All that remained was a pair of filmy white panties.

“The panties,” Stella said. That was all she said, but Susan could tell that the woman was hungry and ready for her. She was breathing faster and harder now and her hand seemed to be shaking.

The panties were easy. Again Stella was completely motionless and again the girl had to do everything herself. When the brief panties rested on the floor Stella stepped out of them and kicked them across the room in one motion.

They stood completely still and wholly silent for almost a full minute. Susan felt strangely embarrassed, as if Stella was dressed and she herself the naked one instead of the other way around.

Then Stella said: “Now your clothes.”

She took off her dress very precisely and methodically. For some reason there was no haste in the process—she wasn’t in any rush at all. She was in the middle of something and she intended to go through with it. But that was all. Any hunger she had felt in the beginning, any lust for the other girl’s beautiful body—it all had drained out of her for some reason which she couldn’t begin to figure out.

She folded her dress neatly and placed it on the couch. Then she removed her bra and panties and put them, too, on the couch. She stood naked for a moment in her high-heeled shoes—then she took them off, too, and put them together at the foot of the couch.

Stella’s eyes were bold. They stared at the hair she had taken so much time to comb and ran the length of Susan’s body. They studied the small but perfect breasts a long time and then moved to the special place, the secret place, the place where no man had ever been. And for some incomprehensible reason Susan felt embarrassed and frightened, as if it were a man who was looking at her.

“You’re very lovely, Susan.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you think I’m attractive?”

“You know you are.”

“Tell me.”

Pause.

“Tell me, Susan.”

“You’re…very beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

God, God, God. Why didn’t they just do it and get it over with? Why all this preliminary nonsense that neither of them needed? Or perhaps this was what Ralph had meant when he talked of Stella’s need to hurt, to dominate. Maybe her taunting had a purpose; maybe that was what Stella needed in order to enjoy what followed it.

Susan didn’t know. All she knew was that she was beginning to regret the whole business. She wished vaguely that she was back in her own apartment by herself. But now that she was here she might as well get it over and done with.

“Give me your hand, Susan.”

Stella took her by the hand and led her back to the bedroom. Susan went along without a word, accepting what was going to happen and walking with quick, nervous steps. The bedroom was messy and disordered, with the bed unmade and clothing scattered on the floor. The appearance of the room added a note of cheapness and illicitness to the whole affair and increased her apprehensions. Maybe it would have been better if she had just stayed by herself, alone and frustrated but at least safe—

“Lie down, Susan.”

She sat down on the messy bed, then stretched out on it. She tried to close her eyes and relax but her eyelids refused to close and her body only grew more tense and rigid at the thought of relaxation. When she did manage to get her eyes shut her head began to reel and she felt as though she was going to be sick. She had to open her eyes once again in order to get her bearings.

“Wait here.”

Susan waited; there was nothing else for her to do. Stella left the room for a moment and Susan tried to figure out where she was going or what she was going to do. Maybe she just wanted to keep her waiting, thinking that it would make her even more nervous than she already was. Well, if that was her idea, it was certainly working. A fine sweat broke out on Susan’s forehead and she felt her palms growing moist with perspiration as well. She didn’t want anything now except to be back in her own room, didn’t want the sexual release that Stella was willing to provide her with, didn’t want anything but peace and solitude and the safety of being alone.

For one wild minute she considered the idea of getting up and running out of the room, grabbing up her clothes and racing up the stairs and to hell with Stella James. But the moment passed and the thought went with it. She just didn’t have the nerve to run away now.

After what seemed like much longer than it was, Stella strode back into the room. She didn’t bother to explain where she had been or what she had been doing. Instead she sat down on the edge of the bed facing Susan. The familiar smile reappeared on her face.

She reached out a hand and stroked Susan’s cheek. Susan tried to relax and respond to the touch but she found it impossible. She seemed to be frozen inside—Stella’s hand on her cheek was nothing, just a lump of clay.

“You’re lovely,” Stella was saying, “and I want you very much. But I guess you know how much I want you.”

Words of love. But this time they were just words, dead words, empty words. This time they meant nothing to her, meant even less than they must have meant to Stella. Instead of a sexual response Susan could think of nothing but the essential emptiness of the situation.

Stella’s hand moved to her breast. Her hand was very large and her fingers encircled the breast, the nipple snug in the girl’s palm. The fingers began to manipulate the breast just as so many fingers had manipulated Susan’s breasts so many times.

But this time it was nothing—no feelings whatsoever coursed through her body. There were times before when her sexual partner meant little or nothing to Susan, times when the woman involved was a good deal less attractive than Stella.

But never before had her body refused to respond.

Stella’s thumb and forefinger found the nipple of Susan’s breast and began to play with it. Stella pulled and squeezed at the nipple and it grew hard, but Susan knew that it was only a reflex. Fingering automatically made a nipple harden—and she was still unmoved, still unexcited, still cold and fully unresponding.

Stella smiled. “Don’t you like what I’m doing?”

No answer.

“It’s all right. I know you enjoy it—you’d just prefer to lie there while I do all the work. Well, that’s all right, dear. I’m enjoying myself.”

More caresses. More words.

Nothing.

Stella lowered her mouth to Susan’s other breast and began to plant little kisses on the softness of it. Her tongue bathed the firm flesh and made little circles around the nipple. Her teeth found the nipple and tugged at it like a playful kitten with a ball of yarn, but the only sensation that hit Susan was one of pain mingled with irritation.

This was wrong—this wasn’t what she had wanted at all. This was cheap, cheap and ugly and dirty inside. It wasn’t love, but she hadn’t wanted love. But it wasn’t even good healthy animalism, wasn’t even the strong and beautiful meeting of two bodies.

It was revoltingly tawdry, unexciting sex. It wasn’t what she wanted, and all at once she knew what it was that she did want.

She wanted Ralph.

Ralph.

His face came into her mind—strong and masculine and, for the first time it seemed to her, attractive. The image brought a sensation of fear with it, but now for the first time the fear was tempered with something else. Ralph wouldn’t hurt her—wouldn’t do anything to her, not unless she let him, not unless she wanted him to. With Ralph whatever did happen would happen because both of them wanted it, because both of them needed it.

But this—

This was what she had known, what her entire sexual life had been. But it was no longer enough. She needed more.

Stella was still busy with her breasts, but it was as though it wasn’t really happening, as though Stella’s hands were the wind and Stella’s mouth was the rain. They were nothing to her, nothing at all.

And, lying there on the bed, she felt like a prostitute. She felt lower than that—she felt like filth, cheap rotten filth that didn’t have the guts to do what it wanted.

And she knew that she had to get away from Stella right away. Before it was too late.

She sat up suddenly on the bed, pushing Stella away from her as she did so. The woman’s mouth went wide and the smile was gone from her face, replaced all at once by an expression of complete surprise.

“What’s the matter?”

She couldn’t talk.

“Damn you, what’s the matter?”

Susan tried to stand up but Stella’s arms held her where she was. She couldn’t move. “Let go,” she said. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you tell me what’s bugging you.”

“Let go!”

Stella released her.

“I can’t,” Susan said. “I just can’t go through with it and that’s all there is to it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t…let you make love to me.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

Stella’s face clouded. “I don’t get it,” she said, honestly puzzled. “You were the one who came in here all hot to trot. What changed your mind?”

‘‘I—’’

“Wait a minute.” Stella smiled again, sure of herself once more. “Haven’t you ever done this before?”

It would be so easy to lie. So easy—

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve done it before.”

Sometimes lying wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

“Then—”

“I just don’t want to make love with you.”

Stella took a deep breath. “Say that again.”

She repeated it.

“You mean you’re going to leave me like this—all steamed up with no place to go? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“I’m sorry—but that’s it.”

There was something new in Stella’s eyes this time—something ugly and horrible. Her hands reached out and gripped Susan by the shoulders, her fingernails digging into the girl’s flesh.

“That,” she said, “is what you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to have you, sister. Even if I have to rape you in order to get you.”