"Joe, do you think pregnant women are beautiful later? Say eight, or nearly nine mouths gone?"
"Sure!" Joe seemed surprised that she would ask. "More beautiful. Healthy, happy woman ready to drop—how not? Top symbol of The All. Shut up now. Work."
"Please, Joe, one more question. Will you paint me when I'm big as a house? Between eight and nine months? Could be a cheat job. Might have to be, I might not be able to pose very long when I'm heaviest."
He smiled in delight. "You bet, Annette! Artist don' get that chance much. Most broads silly about it. But now shut up. Must look gutsy, so think gutsy. Don' act—be. Sweaty, eager. Joan Eunice, Gigi's got you set up, eager. But scared. Virgin. Gigi, you just eager. Maybe gloating, but think, don't do. Not even face. Just think."
He stopped to reposition lights, scowled at his models, changed his lights a little, brushed an oily rag on Gigi's right shoulder and breast. "Is right! Nipples up? Joan Eunice, can't you get ‘em tight? Try thinking about men, not Gigi."
"I'll fix it," Gigi assured him. "Listen, darling." She started whispering, telling Joan in blunt detail what this ancient Grecian Lesbian was about to do to the virgin helpless in her arms.
Joan found that her breasts tightened so hard that they hurt. She wet her lips and looked back at Gigi, hardly noticed that they were being photographed.
"Break," announced Joe. "Off throne, pau tonight. Got good shots."
Joan straightened up, peered across the room at the clock. "My goodness! Blackbirds already?"
"So bed," he agreed. "Pose tomorrow."
Gigi said, "I'm still going to do those dishes, Joe. You set up the cot."
"I'll do them, Gigi."
"I'll wash, you can wipe."
By the time they finished, Joe was in the cot and apparently asleep. Gigi said, "Which side do you like, hon?"
"Either one."
"Crawl in."
24
Joan woke with her head on Gigi's shoulder. Gigi was looking at her, which helped Joan to remember where she was. She yawned and said, "Good morning, darling. Is it morning? Where's Joe?"
"Joe's getting breakfast. Had enough sleep, dear?"
"Guess so. What time is it?"
"I don't know. The question is, are you rested? If not, go back to sleep."
"I'm rested, I feel grand. Let's get up."
"All right. But I charge one kiss to get past me."
"Outrageous," Joan said happily, and paid toll. But Joe was not at the kitchen unit; he was projecting the photographs he had taken the night before. Gigi said, "Look at that, Joan. Forgotten all about offering to get breakfast."
"It's no matter," Joan said softly.
"Don't bother to keep your voice down, Joe can't hear when he's working. Unless you shout. Well, let's scrounge, then we'll try to get him to eat. Hmmm... not much to offer a guest."
"I don't need a big breakfast. Juice and toast. Coffee."
"No juice." Gigi poked around futilely. "I could give you a Reddypak. Spaghetti or something. I've got a grocery shop. Send Joe out for groceries and he comes home with a new picture book and some paint, happy as a kid. No use scolding him."
Joan Eunice caught an undertone in Gigi's voice, said softly, "Gigi, are you broke?"
Gigi did not answer. She kept her face turned away, got out half a loaf of bread, prepared to make toast. Joan persisted, still speaking quietly, "Gigi, I'm rich, I suppose you know. But Joe won't take a dime from me. You don't have to be that stubborn."
Gigi measured out powder for six cups of coffee. Then she said almost as softly, "Joan, I was a whore when Big Sam and I were together. Somebody had to pay the rent and half his pupils never paid what they promised, and the rest paid so little it hardly made up for the coffee and doughnuts they ate. Hell, some of them came to class just to eat. So somebody had to work. I never hustled men much—Sam didn't like it if I made it with another man—unless it was a swing scene that he had set up. But an old butch is often generous. When we had to have money I would go sit in one of the Lez coffee shops and bring some money home—Sam didn't mind that.
"I finally got wise that I was being used, not just supporting him. Those swing scenes—a guru needs a young chela for openers or it won't get off the ground. Joan, a woman will do anything for a man—but she hates to think it's a one-way street. Now take Joe. Doesn't sell many paintings and we usually have to split fifty-fifty to get them hung. But Joe doesn't use a woman no matter how thin things are." She looked around at Joan.
"When I first posed for Joe he paid me guild rates, none of this kark about a fin now and another fin when he sells the picture. He had some money from Eunice. Insurance, I suppose. But Joe is a soft slob and everybody borrowed it and everybody spent it and nobody paid it back and it was gone before I shacked in with him and started minding his money. Somebody's paying the rent and utilities on this studio. You, maybe?"
"No."
"You know about it?"
"Yes. A man who greatly admired Eunice took care of it. Joe can live here the rest of his life if it suits him. And I can drop a hint and the phone will be turned back on. The phone was an oversight when the rent and power and water and such were arranged for."
"We don't need a phone. I think half the people on this level used Joe's phone as a free public phone—some still try and get sore when I tell ‘em there's no phone here, please go away; Joe is working. Uh, that man who admired Eunice—named ‘Johann' maybe?"
"No, not ‘Johann' and his name isn't ‘Joan' now. Gigi, I can't tell you without his permission and I don't have it. Has Joe ever said anything about the rent?"
"Truthfully I don't think he's thought about it. He's a child, some ways, Joan. Art and sex—doesn't notice other things until he bangs his nose into them."
"Then maybe he wouldn't notice this. I've got my car radio link in my purse, I can call for it. If you tell Joe you've got to grocery-shop, he'll let you go, won't he?"
"Oh, sure. Won't even fuss—even though he has his heart set on painting us all day today."
"So you tell him you must and I offer to take you in my car. We can pick up a big load, with a car and two guards to carry for us. Maybe Joe won't suspect that I've paid for it. Or maybe you can tell him that a picture sold."
Gigi looked thoughtful. Then she sighed. "You tempt me, you cuddlesome little broad. But I had better hold off and eat pizza till we sell another painting. And we will. Best not to monkey with a setup that works, I think."
(She's right, Boss. Leave it alone.) (But, Eunice, there's not a thing for breakfast but coffee and dry toast. That's no matter but there are only four Reddypax in there and three pizzas—we ate three last night. A few other items, not much. I can't leave it alone.) (You've got to leave it alone. You trying to cut off his balls? Or split him up with Gigi? Gigi's good for him, she'll find a way. Do I, or do I not, know more about Joe than you do?) (You do, Eunice—but people have to eat.) (Yes, Boss, but it doesn't hurt to miss a couple of meals.) (Damn it, girl, what do you know about being hungry? I went through the thirties.) (Okay, Boss, louse it up. I'll keep quiet.) (Eunice—please! You said I did fine last night.) (So I did, and you certainly did. Now keep up the good work by leaving them alone or by finding some way to let Gigi-come by groceries honestly... but don't give them anything.) (All right, sweetheart, I'll try.)
"Gigi, here in the fudge—bacon grease in this can?"
"Yes, I save it. Can be useful."
"Can indeed! And I see two eggs."
"Well, yes. But two eggs split three ways is sort of feeble. But I'll fry one for you and one for Joe."