“If it was me it would be a wailing Well,” Penny sighed.
“Oh, aren’t you adorable!” Well pinched her thigh lightly and the flesh flushed. “Right now,” she said meaningfully, “I’m a wishing Well.”
It went over Penny’s head. What an odd woman! She thought. But nice. Still, her hair, her clothes, her manner were very strange. That too-short bob combed straight back without a part-—it was like something out of the flapper era. And that unstylish tweed suit she was wearing—too hot for summer—and with a jacket that seemed designed to make her small chest look even flatter than it was. No make-up, either, and the hair a dull, dandruffy brown, as if she’d never even heard of shampoo. And the clipped, English way she had of speaking— like a speech teacher in one of those exclusive finishing schools for young ladies.
“What sort of work do you do?” Penny asked to make conversation.
“I’m a speech teacher in one of those exclusive finishing schools for young ladies,” Well told her.
“Oh! Are you British?”
“Yes, I am. Why? Does it show? It shouldn’t. I’ve been over here for quite a while now.”
“I like the way it sounds.”
“You do? Well, aren’t you nice?” She spoke so warmly that Penny blushed at the compliment. Well noticed and laughed delightedly. “What a pretty Penny you are,” she said, enjoying it when Penny blushed the more. “Tell me, why were you crying back there?”
“Because I had no money and no clothes.”
“How did you get into such a predicament? Wait! Don’t tell me! It was a man, wasn’t it? All men are beasts! Filthy beasts! Flaunting their male superiority!”
“You can say that again!” Penny agreed bitterly.
“Flaunting their male superiority!” Well repeated agreeably. “Tell me, dear, did he try to take advantage of you? Is that what happened?”
“Well, not exactly,” Penny hedged.
“Oh, I like the way you say my name.”
“What?”
“Well.”
“Well What?”
“Well. My name.” Well explained. “I like the way you say it.”
“Oh.” Penny was still confused.
“Never mind. Skip it. And you don’t have to tell me what happened, either. You’re really much more alluring as a mystery girl, anyway.”
“Gee, there’s nothing mysterious about me,” Penny said.
“Really? Then tell me all about yourself. Where do you come from? What do you do for a living? Who are you?”
So Penny talked about herself and her background and her job, and before she knew it, she had talked her way through the Queens Midtown Tunnel and they were in Manhattan. “Where would you like to be dropped?” Well asked, politely interrupting Penny’s chatter.
“My place, I guess. Eighty-third Street between York and First Avenues.” Penny sighed. “Oh, how I dread going home.”
“Ahh, I see a glimmering of light. You have to face your husband, and you won’t be able to explain how you lost your clothes. You poor little thing! First taken advantage of by one man, and now facing a beating by another. All men really are beasts!”
“No. I’m not married,” Penny told her. “It’s not that. It’s my landlady I don’t want to face.”
“Your landlady?”
“Yes. She’s a snoopy enough old gossip as it is. But when she gets a look at me coming home like this, she’ll really have something to tell the neighbors.”
“Can’t you just sneak in?”
“No. I don’t have my key. It’s in my pocketbook back at—where I was. I’ll have to ring her bell and get her to let me in.”
“Oh. But what a shame. How embarrassing. Look here, wait a minute now —“
Well took a deep puff as if for inspiration from the foot-long cigarette holder clenched between her teeth. “l’ve got an idea. Why don’t you come with me to my place? I can loan you some clothes and then you can go home.”
“But wouldn’t that be embarrassing for you? I mean, suppose somebody saw me with you dressed like this?”
“Nobody has to see us. I can pull the car right into the basement garage and we can go up in the service elevator to my apartment. What do you say?”
“What can I say but thank you. Thank you so much,” Penny said emotionally. “I don’t know when I’ve met anybody so kind.”
“Nonsense. It’s just that we girls have to stick together, that’s all. No pun intended,” she added under her breath. “It’s my pleasure to be able to enjoy more of your company, my dear.” She stroked Penny’s thigh reassuringly, edging crotchwise with cagy, trembling fingers.
Twenty minutes later they were cozily ensconced in Well Well’s digs. “You can have your pick of the wardrobe in just a moment, “ Well said hospitably. “But first, would you like a drink?” '
“I could certainly use one,” Penny said gratefully.
Well opened a fifth of gin and poured the contents into a large pitcher. She passed the vermouth bottle over it for tradition’s sake and put in some ice. Then she stirred gently, poured out two water glasses full and dropped an olive in each. “Here we are.” She handed one of the glasses to Penny.
Penny took a deep sip. “Wow!” she said when she was able to speak. “You sure mix a wicked drink.”
“I’m a wicked girl.” Well giggled coyly. She raised her glass. “Down the hatch,” she said, and drained the contents.
“Bottoms up!” Penny followed her example.
“Let’s hope so,” Well murmured to herself, eyeing Pemiy hungrily. “Let us hope so.”
“What?” Penny was feeling a little dizzy from downing the mammoth drink on an empty stomach. But she felt good, too, as the warmth of the liquor spread out from her precious little hollow tum-tum and made her tingle.
“Nothing.” Well took her glass and refilled it. “Drink up,” she told Penny.
“All right,” Penny replied obediently, raising the glass to her lips again. “I’ll drink up before the well runs dry.” She choked on her drink. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I wasn’t referring to you. I was—” She waved her hand helplessly and swallowed some more martini. “You know,” she said vaguely.
“Yes, I know.” Well soothed her. “And you don’t have to worry about this Well running dry, my little kitten. This Well is self-lubricating. As a matter of fact, at the moment,” she added, allowing her shrewd little eyes to run over the lush contours of Penny’s bikini-clad body, “this Well is a veritable greasepit!”
“Huh?” Penny felt as if her head was really spinning now. She set her glass down on the table and stared at it blankly.
“Never mind, my sweet. Tell me, do you like to dance?”
“Oh, yes. I just love to go dancing.”
“Well, then, why don’t we dance here?” Well put a record on the hi-fi and soon the room was filled with the low, sensual sounds of a slow tango. “Let’s dance,” she told Penny.
Penny looked around her vaguely. “With whom?” she said. “There are no men here.”
“We don’t need men. Not for dancing. Not for anything. Come on. I’ll lead.” She held out her arms to Penny.
“All right.” Penny got up and walked toward her.
“Just a minute.” Well took off her tweed jacket. There was a stiff white shirt under it. Under the white shirt, it looked as if she wasn’t wearing anything, if Penny was any judge. The faintest outlines of small, long breasts, very lowslung, were visible, and that was all.
A moment later, as they started dancing, Penny’s judgment was confirmed. Held close in Well’s arms, she could tell for sure that the older girl wasn’t wearing any bra. Still, Penny felt very warm and secure and cared for in Well’s embrace.
“I feel very warm and secure and cared for,” she managed to articulate her thoughts to Well.
“You mean in my embrace?” Well murmured.
“Yes. I feel like a child. Like you were my mother looking after me in my time of .need.”