Beebo was profoundly flattered and reassured that she did not betray her lack of knowledge. Enough to ask, "How do you know?"

"From the way I react to you," Paula said, bashfully. "I never did this with anybody before."

"Never made love?" Beebo cried. "God." The blind leading the blind, she thought. And we don't need any help either, thanks.

"No, I've made love before. With men, even," Paula said, and Beebo found her mood switching to abrupt resentment. "It's just that I never-I don't know how to say this. You'll think I'm making it up for your benefit, but it's the truth, Beebo. I never-oh, God help me, I'm frigid. I mean, I was. Till tonight."

Beebo lay there in the dark, holding her, torn between the desire to believe her and the suspicion that she was fibbing.

"You don't believe me," Paula said with gentle resignation. "I shouldn't have said it. It's enough that it happened."

Beebo petted her, smoothing her hair and letting her hands slip over Paula's slim scented body. “Okay, you never came before, came before," she said lightly. "Now I'll tell you a fish story. I never made love before."

There was a brief silence, and then Paula said, "All right. We're even. That's a real whopper. Mine was the truth."

And Beebo laughed, pleased with Paula's warmth and humor, and not caring any more whether she had been lied to or not. It was the truth in spirit, and only Paula knew if it was the truth in fact. Her attraction to Beebo was so vibrantly true that it took shape in the night like a live thing you could feel and hold.

"I think I could reach out in the air and touch your desire," Beebo told her between kisses. "I can feel it that strongly.”

one

"Does that please you?" Paula murmured.

"You please me. Everything about you," Beebo said. And it was true. Paula was wholly feminine, soft and supple and yielding. She was finely constructed, mentally and physically; sensitively aware of other people's desires and interests, and happiest catering to them. She had an air of fragility that made you want to hold her close and cozy, make her warm and safe, go out and slay dragons for her and come home covered with glory . . . and gladly trade the glory to be covered instead with Paula's proud kisses.

Beebo couldn't stop feeling her. "You're so tiny," she kept saying. "So little. Darling, I'm going to feed you sausage and lasagna and put some meat on your bones."

"Will you buy me a new wardrobe when I get too fat for my old one?" Paula teased.

"I'll buy anything," Beebo said passionately. "Mink coats. Meals at the Ritz. New York City."

"All of it?"

"No, just the nice parts," Beebo said, and Paula clutched at her suddenly, first laughing, then near tears again, and said, "Beebo, this can't be. It couldn't be happening. I love you, I do love you. Where did you come from? It scares me. It makes me believe all over again in the things I loved when I was a child. You make me feel like a child. Beebo. So small, and-I'm not small really, darling. You're big. God, but you're big. How tall are you, Beebo?"

"Over six feet-"Beebo began. "Oh, No!"

"In high heels," she finished, chuckling, and Paula said, "Do you ever wear them?"

"I used to. On the bad days." "When are the bad days?" "Never anymore," Beebo "Not with you around."

Beebo said.

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