No, it was more than that. It would be bad enough if she was merely offering herself. Then Susan would still have the prerogative of refusing the offer, and while that would be difficult it would be her choice, her right to choose between sex and solitude. But instead Stella was saying I’m going to have you and you can’t stop me.
And this was very frightening. More than frightening.
Terrifying.
Because she didn’t want sex with Stella. Well, she had to admit to herself that this wasn’t entirely true. In one way, a purely physical way, she wanted sex with Stella desperately. She had been alone for too long and her body was beginning to crave a woman’s hands on it, her mouth to hunger for a woman’s lips pressing against them. But this was a physical hunger and nothing more.
Both intellectually and emotionally she wanted only to be left alone. While the idea of a woman making love to her was less repelling by far than that of a man doing the same things, she knew that it was necessary for her to live a celibate life for the time being, if only so that she could get her bearings and determine precisely what course she was going to follow in the future. This was a hard thing to do, but it was a vital thing also.
Ralph was good for her. He was never on the make, never hungry or grasping. And he was always there, always ready to talk or to listen to her, always sharing a part of himself with her. There was absolutely nothing she wouldn’t be willing to tell him, no secret she wouldn’t reveal to him. He seemed to understand virtually everything, or at least to accept whatever he didn’t understand.
She wasn’t afraid of Ralph. And because she could be with him and open herself up to him she was beginning to relax, beginning to calm down a little inside. She could even feel that her life was becoming somehow healthier and more meaningful.
And then Stella had to walk into her life.
Well, right now there was nothing she could do. She had to wait for things to straighten themselves out in whatever fashion they chose. Tomorrow she could tell Ralph what had happened. Tomorrow everything would be easier because she would have someone to confide in.
Why, Ralph was almost like a psychotherapist for her! He made her feel so much better. Now, if only Stella would leave her alone…
Resolutely she shook her head and walked to the side of her bed. She slipped out of the blue kimono and crawled into bed. She lay on her back for a long time, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
She couldn’t stop thinking of Stella.
And, inevitably, her own hands began their gentle course, stroking her breasts and then her stomach, moving downward to her very private and secret place. She touched herself and thought of Stella as she had done before, stroking herself and whispering to herself, thinking of strange and obscene delights.
Just as she had done before.
Only this time she was ashamed of herself.
Ralph floated home.
That wasn’t exactly how it happened, but that’s how it seemed at the time. He bid Charlie a cheerful goodbye and floated out of the bar. Then he floated into the taxi that Charlie had insisted upon calling for home. Then the taxi floated around for a while until it came to rest in front of 69 Barrow Street. He paid the driver, tipped him two dollars, and floated up the walk to the stoop.
The driver, who hadn’t had a two-dollar tip since V-J day, stared long and thoughtfully after Ralph. Then, shaking his head and smiling gently to himself, he started the cab up again and drove off.
Ralph had an enormous amount of difficulty fitting the key into the lock. He managed it, however, and when the door opened he felt enormously proud of himself. Then he floated down the hallway to his apartment and played games again, trying to get the other key in the lock.
He managed that also and opened the door, feeling more proud of himself than ever. He floated into the room.
Stella was in the bedroom. Surprisingly enough she was alone.
“Hello,” he said. “Do you mind if I call you Charlie?”
She just looked at him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Oh,” he said. “I thought you were a bartender.”
He stood up again and got undressed and ready for bed. Then he sat down again on the edge of the bed and smiled drunkenly at Stella.
Stella said: “I’m going to sleep with your girlfriend.”
He shook his head. He figured he must be hearing things, so he waited for her to go on.
“I went up to see her tonight,” Stella said. “We had a pleasant chat. She’s quite lovely.”
“No,” he said. He wanted to say more but he couldn’t remember just what it was that he wanted to say.
“Yes, Ralph. What’s the matter?”
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” Her smile taunted him.
“Just don’t.”
“But you’ll have to tell me why not. I can’t just accept things on your say-so.”
“Because she doesn’t want you.”
“Are you sure?”
He stared at her.
“Don’t be too sure,” Stella was saying. “Don’t be too certain about anything.”
“Leave her alone.”
“Why?”
He was silent.
“Are you in love with her, Ralph?”
He turned away from her.
“Are you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Tell me, Ralph.”
“Yes,” he said, finally. “I’m in love with her.”
“In that case,” Stella said, “I’ll be sure to let you watch.” And she began to laugh hysterically.
He turned to her again. Something flared in him all at once and he couldn’t hold back the hate and fury that had been building within him. He grabbed her by one arm and hauled her out of bed, sinking one fist into her stomach.
She folded up like an accordion. Then she began to laugh again through clenched teeth.
“Damn you!” he exploded. He hit her again and again, ringing blows with his open hand that landed on her face and breasts.
But he couldn’t still her laughter.
Then, at last, he made love to her. Making love is perhaps the wrong term; what he made was hate. He took her with fury burning through his bloodstream, forcing her back down on the bed and pummeling her with his fists, then taking her cruelly and viciously, hurting her as much as he possibly could.
As soon as he had finished with her he rolled away from her and his head swam. He closed his eyes.
Then, mercifully, the liquor and sex combined and he was unconscious.
Chapter seven
He woke up slowly, weakly. First, with his eyes still clenched shut and his frame motionless, consciousness began to return to Ralph. For a long moment he remained in one position without moving his eyelids at all.
When he finally opened his eyes the light hurt them and he shut them again quickly. He tried to yawn and stretch and his muscles ached dully in the process. He breathed heavily and turned over onto his back.
He felt like hell.
He opened his eyes a second time and this time they stayed open. Haltingly he pulled himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness almost knocked him to the floor and he had to clutch the side of the bed for support. He sat down again on the side of the bed with his feet on the floor and stared blindly at the wall.
His mouth was parched, his throat bone-dry. There was a sick, queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that was spreading quietly throughout his system. His head felt too large and bulky for his neck to support it. His arms, when he reached for his shoes, didn’t seem to work as well as they had in the past.
He stood up again. The dizziness slugged him in the teeth again but this time he was able to master it and stay on his feet. By the elaborate process of putting one foot in front of the other he managed to reach the bathroom and step under the shower.