They clinked glasses gravely and drank. Laura had never been
much of a drinker, and when she did have anything it was usually
bourbon-and-water, sometimes rye-and-ginger. Scotch was new to her. But
she liked the flavor, and she particularly liked the immediate warmth
in her throat and in the pit of her stomach.
"It was awfully good of you to think of picking up a bottle," Laura
said. "I was getting kind of blue, here all by myself."
Marilyn nodded. "It's always a little rough, after you've finished your
first day on the street. That's why I knocked off early. To keep you
company here."
Laura found the drink slipping smoothly down her throat. In no time at
all, nothing but half-melted ice cubes remained in her glass. Marilyn
caught up with her in two quick gulps and poured refills.
"Not much for me," Laura said. "I'm getting dizzy, I think."
"What of it? Come on--you only live once."
But Laura _was_ getting dizzy, very dizzy. She drank the second drink
cautiously. Even so, her head began to buzz a little, and her eyes
would not focus. She leaned back, letting her gown dangle loosely open,
and a glassy smile appeared on her face. So this was what it was like
to be drunk, she thought. It was fun.
She was vaguely aware that Laura was filling her glass again. She tried
to protest, but the only words that came past her lips were thick,
fuzzy things that probably were unintelligible. Automatically, she
lifted the third drink to her lips. She could make out Marilyn's face
smiling across the table at her, blurred and badly out of focus.
"Want another?" Marilyn asked some time later.
"No ... no, please. I want to go to bed."
"Sure, baby. Sure." Laura stood up and staggered uncertainly, almost
falling. But Marilyn was right next to her, her arm around Laura's
shoulder, and with the strength that seemed so strange in her thin,
wiry body Marilyn managed to hold her up, to carry her across the room
and put her gently down on top of her bed.
"Let's get the robe off you," Marilyn said. "Easy, now. Just lift your
shoulder."
Laura complied, and Marilyn took off the robe. Laura saw Marilyn remove
her own robe. And then, to Laura's surprise, Marilyn lay down naked,
not in her own bed, but on Laura's. The two girls were naked, side by
side. Laura frowned, not knowing what to say.
Marilyn murmured, "I'm going to make you feel real good now, honey. I'm
going to help you relax and get a good night's sleep."
"What--whatcha gonna do--"
"Just relax, Laura, just relax." Marilyn's hand was cupping Laura's
breasts. It was almost like a man's hand, Laura thought, nothing soft
and feminine about it. She lay on her side, facing Marilyn, and the
other girl had her hands on both of Laura's breasts, playing now
with the nipples, now squeezing the entire heavy globes with all five
fingers. One of Marilyn's thin knees gently pushed its way between
Laura's thighs. Laura found it was pleasant to have the leg between
hers. She began to move rhythmically, deriving pleasure from each
rubbing motion of her loins over Marilyn's skin.
Then Marilyn released Laura's breasts and began to move her hands over
every part of Laura's body. Laura smiled. She saw nothing unnatural in
one woman making love to another, at that point. It was simply that all
day both of them had been denied fulfillment, and now, alone with each
other, they could give each other the pleasure that their clients had
denied them all day.
Laura's lips gently caressed Marilyn's stiff nipples, and her hands
wandered toward the other girl's lean, muscular buttocks. She wriggled
closer to Marilyn, and the two girls embraced, and Laura could feel the
jutting little bones of Marilyn's hips pressing into the softness of
her own thighs.
Laura began to pant as Marilyn's hands touched the secret places of her
body, stimulating them, exciting them. She reached out for Marilyn,
wanting to do the same.
"Kiss me," Laura muttered harshly. "Kiss me _there_."
Marilyn kissed her. "Now you kiss me," Marilyn whispered. Laura did.
"Again," Marilyn said. "Oh, again, again!"
And then neither of them could control themselves any longer, and they
came together in a tight embrace.
After the long hours of standing in the street, all the moments
of sweaty exertion beneath the sagging bodies of strange men--all
forgotten now, all blurred by the sweet haze of alcohol and the warmth
of Marilyn's lean body above hers.
Laura felt her heart pound as though it would rip out of her chest.
Every muscle contracted; she gasped harshly for breath and cried out,
"Oh oh _oh_!" and at the same moment above her Marilyn emitted a low
moaning sound, and then it was finished, and Marilyn clung limply to
Laura like something washed up by the tide, and the two women rested,
letting the fierce tides of passion ebb slowly away.
The ache in the loins was gone, now, Laura thought. The day's
frustrations were wiped out.
The very strenuousness of the act had sobered her, had burned the
excess alcohol from her brain, and now, as she lay with all passion
spent, Marilyn's warm flushed body against hers, she reflected that
what they had done was unnatural, a strange act.
But _was_ it so unnatural, really, she asked herself?
They were friends. They shared a mutual need for fulfillment. Because
of their profession, they could not get that fulfillment from men. What
more natural thing in the world was there but for them to give that
fulfillment to each other?
She opened her eyes. Marilyn, smiling, looked into them.
"Hello, darling."
"Hello, Marilyn."
"How do you feel now?"
"Wonderful."
"No guilt about it?"
Laura shrugged. "I don't know. It was like all my troubles being washed
away in one second."
"You've never done anything like this before, have you?" Marilyn asked.
"I mean, with another woman."
"No. Never."
"Then I was the first. That makes me very happy."
"Do you--have you done much of this?" Laura asked.
"Practically since I went on the street. It's the only way I can get
any kicks. I pretend the men excite me, but it's never happened, never
once in my life with a man. Only with women."
Laura closed her eyes. "I feel very sleepy now. Warm and drowsy and
happy."
"That's the way you should feel, honey. Let's get some sleep, now. See
you in the morning."
Marilyn's lips gently grazed Laura's. Laura smiled.
"Goodnight, Marilyn."
"Goodnight, honey."
Laura nestled under the covers, against her pillow. The lights went
out, and a moment later she heard Marilyn getting into her bed. Laura
yawned.
She understood now why Marilyn had been so eager for her as a roommate.
It was more than sheer generosity, more than mere loneliness. Marilyn
had been looking for a lover. Laura frowned. She was not sure she
wanted to settle down this way as a regular habit. Walking the streets
all day for twenty-five or thirty dollars, then coming home and
drinking and making love with another woman....
Yet a routine it became, at least for the next three or four days. In
the morning, the girls read, slept, shopped for food. Marilyn had a
bank account with several thousand dollars in it, and she persuaded
Laura to open one as well, and to bank as much of her earnings as she
possibly could, as an emergency fund against illness or pregnancy. In
mid-afternoon, they would go out together to take their positions near
the park. Then, at whatever time they decided to call it a day, they
would return to the apartment. Usually Laura got back first, since she
demanded a higher rate and was more popular with the passers-by. She
would return by eleven and bathe and set up the drinks; by midnight
Marilyn would come in, and after she had tidied herself up they would
have a little party and then go to bed.
The lovemaking invariably satisfied them both. Laura felt secret pangs
of guilt at these lesbian practices, but she said nothing about them
to Marilyn. She did not like the idea of making love with another
woman, but on the other hand there was always the ache of frustration
in her loins at the end of the day, and after a couple of drinks her
inhibitions disappeared.
Then, on the fourth day, Marilyn said apropos of nothing at all, "Hey,
did you ever call that Spinelli fellow back?"