stockings. Jo rolled over and put her arm around Linda's waist, snuggling against her warm back. "Hey, don't get up."
"I'm late to work."
"So am I. Shall I call in sick for you?”
"No, I’ll go in." Linda looked around at her, smiling. "Thank you, darling. It's been the best."
"For me, too." She leaned forward as Linda moved, unwilling to lose contact. Don't ask. But she had to ask, the words were torn from her. "Am I going to see you again?"
"Maybe." Linda stood up. The space between them was suddenly cold and lonesome. She pulled on her panty girdle, fastened the tops of her stockings in four quick motions, reached behind her to hook her bra, and picked her skirt off the floor. Everything she did was neat and quick. Looking at her, Jo felt gawky and too tall. She watched while Linda found comb and lipstick in her clutch bag and neatly, quickly made herself ready for the day. Linda said, "I found towels and things in your bathroom. Thank you for everything, Jo."
"You're welcome."
Linda's face, made-up, took on the impassive look it had worn the night before. She's getting ready to go out and face people, Jo thought, feeling that something good was slipping away from her. She had to keep it from happening. "Linda, I have to tell you-it's never been this good before. With anyone."
"I know."
"Do you have a regular girl?"
"I don't want a regular girl." Linda bent and kissed her, carefully so as not to smudge the lipstick. "There's a girl staying with me now, she's a drunk and she needs help, but she isn't my regular girl. If I had one, though, I'd want her to be something like you."
She would have to be satisfied with that. She lay back against the pillow dented by both of their heads, pulling the sheet up against the cold morning air. Linda turned at the door of the bedroom. "I go to The Spot every once in a while," she said. "Mostly on Saturday nights."
"I’ll see you. Take care."
I'm going to feel terrible later on. Not because it was disgusting, like with that Marge—no, Madge, I picked up that time. But because it was so good. It was never so good with Karen, she was always holding back. Fighting herself. Or me. Or the fact of us together.
She was almost asleep when the telephone rang. She got up, shivering, and made her way a little unsteadily to the living room. "Yes?"
"Jo?"
"What's the matter, Stan?"
"Are you sick?"
"I feel terrible," Jo said, crossing her fingers behind her back, "but I'll be down in a little while."
"If you feel bad you better take the day off. There's a lot of this virus stuff going around."
"I'm all right." She hung up before he could start an argument. Once Stan got onto a subject he hung on forever. Now I've got a virus thing, she thought, I better remember to act sick and not go around beaming.
But her reflection in the bathroom mirror was clear and radiant, the eyes wide. I'm beautiful, she thought in surprise. That comes from being loved. Even an imitation of love will do it. She dressed with more care than usual, putting on silver hoop earrings. The hell with it, she thought cheerfully. I feel good, I'm going to look good. Maybe I'm no beauty but if I can make a girl like Linda happy, I can't be such a drip either.
Stan was in a dither. He was waiting for her at the door of the Topix office, his hands full of proof sheets. "Everybody must have a bug," he said crossly. "Gayle acts like she's walking in her sleep, and Betsy isn't coming down at all."
"What's with Betsy?"
"How would I know? Gayle's just putting in time until she's deflowered. I wish she'd do it and get it over with."
"Give me the galleys, I’ll rush them through."
For all her loss of sleep, she felt great. If he'll shut up and let me alone, she thought, I'll have the book out in no time. But he trailed her back to her office and stood there propped against the door, his favorite place for confidences and confessions. She sat down, waiting for him to get his troubles off his chest
"Have a good time
"I'm late to work."
"So am I. Shall I call in sick for you?”
"No, I’ll go in." Linda looked around at her, smiling. "Thank you, darling. It's been the best."
"For me, too." She leaned forward as Linda moved, unwilling to lose contact. Don't ask. But she had to ask, the words were torn from her. "Am I going to see you again?"
"Maybe." Linda stood up. The space between them was suddenly cold and lonesome. She pulled on her panty girdle, fastened the tops of her stockings in four quick motions, reached behind her to hook her bra, and picked her skirt off the floor. Everything she did was neat and quick. Looking at her, Jo felt gawky and too tall. She watched while Linda found comb and lipstick in her clutch bag and neatly, quickly made herself ready for the day. Linda said, "I found towels and things in your bathroom. Thank you for everything, Jo."
"You're welcome."
Linda's face, made-up, took on the impassive look it had worn the night before. She's getting ready to go out and face people, Jo thought, feeling that something good was slipping away from her. She had to keep it from happening. "Linda, I have to tell you-it's never been this good before. With anyone."
"I know."
"Do you have a regular girl?"
"I don't want a regular girl." Linda bent and kissed her, carefully so as not to smudge the lipstick. "There's a girl staying with me now, she's a drunk and she needs help, but she isn't my regular girl. If I had one, though, I'd want her to be something like you."
She would have to be satisfied with that. She lay back against the pillow dented by both of their heads, pulling the sheet up against the cold morning air. Linda turned at the door of the bedroom. "I go to The Spot every once in a while," she said. "Mostly on Saturday nights."
"I’ll see you. Take care."
I'm going to feel terrible later on. Not because it was disgusting, like with that Marge—no, Madge, I picked up that time. But because it was so good. It was never so good with Karen, she was always holding back. Fighting herself. Or me. Or the fact of us together.
She was almost asleep when the telephone rang. She got up, shivering, and made her way a little unsteadily to the living room. "Yes?"
"Jo?"
"What's the matter, Stan?"
"Are you sick?"
"I feel terrible," Jo said, crossing her fingers behind her back, "but I'll be down in a little while."
"If you feel bad you better take the day off. There's a lot of this virus stuff going around."
"I'm all right." She hung up before he could start an argument. Once Stan got onto a subject he hung on forever. Now I've got a virus thing, she thought, I better remember to act sick and not go around beaming.
But her reflection in the bathroom mirror was clear and radiant, the eyes wide. I'm beautiful, she thought in surprise. That comes from being loved. Even an imitation of love will do it. She dressed with more care than usual, putting on silver hoop earrings. The hell with it, she thought cheerfully. I feel good, I'm going to look good. Maybe I'm no beauty but if I can make a girl like Linda happy, I can't be such a drip either.
Stan was in a dither. He was waiting for her at the door of the Topix office, his hands full of proof sheets. "Everybody must have a bug," he said crossly. "Gayle acts like she's walking in her sleep, and Betsy isn't coming down at all."
"What's with Betsy?"
"How would I know? Gayle's just putting in time until she's deflowered. I wish she'd do it and get it over with."
"Give me the galleys, I’ll rush them through."
For all her loss of sleep, she felt great. If he'll shut up and let me alone, she thought, I'll have the book out in no time. But he trailed her back to her office and stood there propped against the door, his favorite place for confidences and confessions. She sat down, waiting for him to get his troubles off his chest
"Have a good time
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