Stranger On Lesbos by Valerie Taylor

Author:Valerie Taylor [Taylor, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

CHAPTER 14

“Awake, baby?"

Frances stirred. "Mm."

"It's four o'clock. You've been asleep for hours. I took a little nap myself," Bake said, smiling.

"That's nice," Frances said. She opened her eyes, trying to bring the room into focus. "Was Iall right?"

"You were wonderful."

"Know something?"

"What's that?"

"I love you."

Bake laughed softly. "Big surprise."

Frances rolled over. "Ooh, you're nice and warm. I wish I didn't have to get up."

"You never want to get up, you lazy bum." Bake's arms were warm and gentle around her, no hunger in them now. "I don't like to have you get up, either."

Frances sat up, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders. "Got a cigarette?"

"Here." Bake lit two cigarettes, took a puff of each, and handed her one; the small ritual after love that was part of their closeness. Frances smiled, taking it. "Ash tray?"

"I moved the stand around to your side." Bake stopped abruptly, as though someone had put a hand over her mouth.

Frances smiled, seeing in her mind's eye a Bake staving off anxiety by shoving the furniture around. It was so at variance with all the things that made up the daytime Bakeand so in keeping with her private gentleness and concern. She reached for the glass ash tray.

Her smile froze.

There were four butts in the ash tray, two stained with the dark-red lipstick Bake used, two with a soft mauve pink.

"What's the matter?"

"Have you changed your lipstick?"

"Oh." Bake's face closed, as Frances had seen it do when people probed too close for comfort. A courteous evasion would be forthcomingor an expedient lie. "Jane was here a while yesterday. She took a nap."

For a moment she almost believed it. She wanted to believe it. It was such a reasonable, comforting explanation, and the truth opened on such a wild vista of desolation. Then she looked again at the four stained and twisted cigarette ends. Two each, smoked in the leisurely relaxation of after-love; this was their pattern, hers and Bake's. Now she knew where Bake had learned it, how it came to be habitual with her.

Frances said in a strangled whisper, "Jane was herewith you. You made love with her the way you do with me."

"Frances, look, I've never lied to you. I'm no good at lies." Bake caught her by the shoulder, turned her until their eyes met. "I've known Jane for years, ever since I first came to Chicago. We're old friends."

"That's a good name for it."

"I suppose you've never slept with anybody else, like your husband, for instance."

"I wouldn't mind so much if it were somebody else."

"That's a lot of crap. You'd mind no matter who I slept withand I guess I would too if it were the other way around." Bake shook her head as though to clear the sleep out of it. "Look, would you feel better if I said it didn't mean anything to either of us? It was just something that happened."

"Those things don't just happen."

"Sure they do. You're with someone you like, you have a few drinks, and wham! there you are.

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