Of course it really didn’t matter one way or the other. But everything was turmoilish enough as things stood without her inflaming some poor man outside who happened to be star-gazing. She tossed herself down in the armchair out of sight — but now that the idea had come into her head the idea of sitting around naked made her uncomfortable.
She remembered that time when she and Sharon had discovered a Peeping Tom in the building across the street. The nervy son of a bitch had a pair of binoculars trained on their window and was getting himself a good eyeful. He must have been getting his kicks in style — instead of watching one girl take off her clothes he had the rare opportunity of watching two girls making love.
But after they spotted him and his damned binoculars they ruined his little game forever by lowering the blinds before so much as unzipping a zipper or unbuttoning a button.
She dressed nervously now, her whole mind still reeling in circles. She had been telling Ralph the whole truth, and it was tough for her to tell the truth in a case like this. For that matter it was hard to be sure just what was true and what wasn’t. The whole affair was wholly unlike anything she had experienced in the past. She was really in love with Ralph, deeply in love with him. No other word but love could possibly convey the feeling she had for him.
But—
That, she admitted, was the hang-up. But. The almighty but, the omnipresent but, the little word that got in the way and turned everything upside-down.
But.
But me no buts, she thought fiercely. But me no goddam buts.
But where did she go from here?
It was as much of a mix-up as she could imagine, and thinking about it she had to laugh to herself. She was a lesbian, a dyed-in-the-wool, twenty-four karat, one hundred percent dyke, a man-hating, lady-loving daughter of Sappho — and she was in love with a man. It was so ridiculous it made her laugh and so horribly hopeless she felt like shooting herself.
And, to top it all off, she needed sex desperately. It had been quite a while now — a long time between drinks, and she was getting pretty damned thirsty. Not since Gloria, and that was how long? She couldn’t stop to remember, but it was a long time.
She needed a woman.
It would be much nicer all around, she reflected, if she needed a man. Then she could go find Ralph and crawl in bed with him and they would both be happy. Then everything would be just hunky-dory, happy and all, and there would be no more problems for little Susan.
But it wasn’t that way at all.
She needed a woman.
But who? What did you do when you needed a woman? She could do what she had always done — make the rounds of the gay bars until she ran into some other frustrated babe out on the town and hungry for a playmate. That was generally easy enough. Then off to somebody’s bedroom and to hell with everything but the pure physical and emotional hunger that had drawn the two of them together in the first place.
But she didn’t want that. That was the sort of thing she had never wanted, the blindly promiscuous craving that made most male and female homosexuals more than a little repulsive to her. It was as if their abnormality gave them a right to flout all the other conventions of the world along with the basic convention of heterosexuality. Once the one bridge was crossed, nothing was supposed to stand between them and the fulfillment of their physical needs.
She didn’t go along with that notion. Just because she preferred women was no reason for her to take sex without anything more than unreasoning hunger. Why, there were men and women who chose sexual partners without so much as an interest in physical attraction! If those people just found somebody willing to sack out with them, that was all they were interested in. That wasn’t her idea of the way to run your life at all.
Which left her right where she started from.
In love — but with no way to consummate that love. And in heat — with no way to cool off.
When the answer came to her she couldn’t figure out how she had managed to go so long without thinking of it. It seemed tremendously obvious, and it was a wonder to her that it hadn’t hit her mind right at the beginning.
Because there was a woman she was attracted to, a woman she had wanted from the moment she first laid eyes on her. A woman who wanted her and would be ready and willing to start an affair with her. A woman she wouldn’t have to worry about hurting because the woman seemed to be immune to emotional pain.
A woman named Stella James.
Yes, it would be purely physical. And blindly promiscuous. All the things she reviled. But—
But Stella would want her; Stella would be quick to accept her love. And with Stella it could be quick and simple, a relationship based upon mutual need and mutual attraction, with no strings on either side. With Stella she wouldn’t feel that she was cheating on Ralph, either — if only because the affair was going to be so basically empty on all but a physical plane.
Then she would be able to make up her mind. Once she unwound and was able to relax physically her mind would be able to work on the problem that was currently banging it into walls. Once she could lie down in Stella’s arms for a quick and desperate orgasm, then the sex bit would leave her alone long enough for her to get some serious thinking done.
That was the answer.
She looked at herself in the mirror and decided quickly that a sloppy blouse and a pair of dungarees was hardly the outfit for a love affair. She changed into a dress — it was the first time in weeks she had had occasion to wear one. The dress was navy blue and it fit her figure perfectly, accentuating the calves and thighs and breasts. She went overboard and put on a pair of high-heeled shoes. She combed her hair very methodically until it was all quite perfect and placed a drop of her best perfume behind the lobe of each ear.
“You,” she said to her reflection, “look remarkably young and lovely.”
And she blew a kiss at the mirror and walked out of the apartment and down the stairs.
Now that her mind was made up she didn’t waste time. She walked at once to the door of the first floor apartment and knocked three times. She wasn’t even nervous anymore. Indecision was worse than any decision for her — once her mind was settled she was always much calmer, much more relaxed in every way. When Stella opened the door a smile came at once to her lips and stayed there.
Stella had spent the earlier part of the day doing next to nothing. She was dressed quite informally in comparison to Susan but looked lovely nevertheless. A skimpy polka dot halter encased her huge breasts and matching short-shorts covered her hips and thighs like a coat of paint. Her eyes lit up when she saw Susan.
“Well,” she said. “Come in.”
Wordlessly the girl followed her inside. Stella led the way to the couch in the front room and the two sat down on it side by side. Susan waited for Stella to speak; Stella, on the other hand, said nothing in an effort to force the younger girl to take the initiative.
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.