Sex Between, The (2 page)

Lee had never fooled herself into thinking she was out of range of Kate's eagle eye. First she had been donated the vice presidency in the Van Tassel Corporation, a firm with nearly as many officers as Kate had relatives, a position with just enough responsibility to keep her in touch with the family circle. Then, four years later, Maggie had been dumped in her lap.

She hadn't realized it was the same Maggie... until she smiled. She didn't look much bigger to Lee than she had wrapped in the damned bunting twenty years before. But she was beautiful now and shaped like no baby Lee had ever seen. Lee had smiled too, but not like in the old days. Maggie was a woman now and, as a woman, desirable.

Kate said Maggie was there as a secretary and companion. But Lee knew that it was simply Kate's way of seeing that the girl was provided for. Uncle Andrew, though he meant well, hadn't the vaguest notion of what to do about a grown daughter. And Lee had given Maggie a home, a salary, and work enough to keep her busy. In the beginning, it had been fine. Maggie had stayed out of her way and she had stayed out of Maggie's. But before a month had gone by, Lee found herself coming home to supper in a kitchen she had never used. Found herself staying home evenings, to listen to music with Maggie or just to read the paper. And worry had begun to gnaw at her insides, like a worm in a rotten apple.

For Lee, who had lived very happily for years on the love 'em and leave 'em plan, knew that she had been hooked…

The bar was a small one, with soft lights and a juke box that played good music in a quiet voice. This late, the happy ones had already gone home, leaving a row of grim faces lining the oval bar. Lee added her own brooding face to the line-up and ordered a double scotch on the rocks.

She hadn't come into the bar to cruise, just to get mildly high. But automatically, from a habit of many years, she let her gaze scan the scattering of lone drinkers.

Nothing with nothing. She sighed, relieved in a way not to have been tempted. After a whole day of Maggie, it felt strangely peaceful to be alone. She sipped slowly at the drink, thinking still about Maggie and wishing to hell she could get the girl out of her mind.

Not that she could... not for a minute. Even when she was with Helga, loving her, kissing her, it was Maggie... it was always Maggie. But you couldn't have a fling with a girl like Maggie. You had to fall in love with her, settle down with her, be faithful… all that crap. With Maggie, it wouldn't be for fun. It would be for keeps. And Lee couldn't play it that way. She knew herself too well—knew that after a couple of weeks, when she kissed any girl, she would be looking past her shoulder to see what else might walk on the scene.

The what else, at the moment, proved to be very interesting. Lee's head snapped back on her neck and she was suddenly keenly alert and watchful. A prickle of tension teased the base of her spine.

The female who had just come out of the ladies' john was obviously no lady, but it didn't limit her appeal. Every eye in the place watched the rear view as she sidled across the room and raised herself onto a stool.

From where she sat, Lee had a side view of the creature, which was almost as good as the rear. She looked the woman over slowly, taking time to get it all neatly stacked in her mind. She was Maggie's size, but Maggie's opposite in every other way, with an olive complexion dark, dark hair and eyes that could light a fire in a pile of wet leaves. The body, from what Lee could see of it, would know what to do with itself in anybody's bed.

Lee took a long swallow of her neglected drink and calculated which of the bar flies the woman might chose. She saw her lean back slightly and cruise the bar, just as Lee herself had done only minutes before. The pickings were not good for a lady with profit on her mind. The dark eyes flicked from face to face, touched Lee's briefly, then moved to the man beside her.

Lee smiled to herself and waited. She watched the woman raise her hand to light a cigarette and caught the glint of a diamond studded wedding band.

Again the dark eyes went the rounds, more slowly this time, assessing each face and discarding it. Lee turned her head just enough to catch the woman's glance.

The woman touched her fingers to her throat and glanced away. But it was not a movement that told Lee to get lost—it said many things, but that wasn't one of them.

Lee waited till the woman had slipped into her coat and gone outside. Then she stood up and slapped a bill on the bar.

The woman had moved only a few paces down the side street. Lee caught up to her and put her palm on the woman's elbow. "May I give you a lift?" she said quietly.

"Which way are you going?" a deep voice answered.

Lee laughed. "That's entirely up to you."

The woman's laugh was as deep as her voice and lovely as her face. "In that case," she said, "it's only a few blocks. We can walk from here."

Lee fell into step beside the woman, walking east listening to the click of the high heels, feeling the woman's compact smallness brushing lightly against her side. The faintest aura of perfume hovered around the woman's body, at the same time tempting and teasing the senses.

After a while, Lee said, "You're married?"

She heard the woman catch her breath, then let it go on a long sigh.

"Yes," she said. "My husband travels a lot."

Lee smiled. "I hope he's traveling at the moment?"

Again the woman laughed. And hearing the sound, Lee felt herself relaxing. She knew that she would not think of Maggie tonight. Maybe she wouldn't think of Maggie for a long, long time.

"Yes, he is traveling," the woman said. "He will be gone for a week. Until Friday."

At the entrance of a proper-looking brownstone, the woman took Lee's hand and led her inside. Silently, Lee followed her up three flights of deep carpeted stairs to a back apartment.

Whatever the guy did while he traveled, he made money doing it. Plenty had gone into furnishing the six big rooms. Lee took a good look around her while the woman went off to hang up the wet trench coat. She nodded, checking off in her mind the prices of several items that she recognized from her own furniture-buying sprees. No woman who lived like this went out hustling for cash.

But if not for cash...

The woman had changed into a scarlet silk robe that lit pinpoints of flame in the dark eyes. As she came into the room, Lee stood up from the couch where she had been waiting.

She took a step toward the woman, then paused. "By the way," she said, "I'm Lee. If it makes any difference."

Now the laugh was like the tinkling of a bell. "And I am Cleo," she said. "I hope it will make much difference."

"Why?"

The woman tilted her head back and looked hard into Lee's eyes. "Because I am bored," she said quietly. "And I want you to make me not be bored any more."

"Well," Lee said, reaching to take her hand, "we'll see what we can do about that."

CHAPTER TWO

From somewhere in the apartment, a clock chimed ten. The odor of their perspiration came heavily from the rumpled sheets. She lay with her head against Cleo's thigh, watching the smoke from a cigarette spiral upward, counting the chimes.

Cleo's fingertips brushed the side of her neck. And Lee sighed, knowing that she must leave, yet wanting to linger. For women like Cleo had, after all, their advantages. Could make you forget that you hadn't eaten or slept; could take your tired, used-up body and make it feel young again and resilient. Cleo made love with the smooth perfection of a graceful, well-oiled machine... with guaranteed results, yet curiously devoid of personal involvement. For she was a greedy woman, this Cleo Amato. Greedy for pleasures, greedy for kicks. Ready to reach out eagerly with both hands, yet unable to give in return.

Which was just fine with Lee. There wasn't a damn thing she wanted from Cleo but the use of her body. Not a damn thing...

Cleo put her hand lightly on Lee's shoulder. "Why are you frowning so?"

"It's late," Lee said. "I'll have to leave soon."

She felt a muscle tighten in the woman's thigh and she knew she was in for a routine. It figured. Women like Cleo were compulsively possessive, as anyone who cannot feel must be. Anything that could, even for a moment, relieve the tedium of her existence must be clung to desperately, wrung dry, drained, until it too became a bore.

Lee closed her eyes and waited.

"Why must you leave?"

"I have an appointment."

"With another woman," Cleo said, her voice flatly accusing.

Lee smiled. "At this hour?" she said. "What do you think I am, a gigolo?"

Cleo took a deep breath. "Then with whom?"

"It's a business appointment," Lee said patiently.

"On Sunday?"

"On Sunday," Lee said, ignoring the disbelief in Cleo's tone. There had been a time when women like Cleo frightened her. When she was very young.

"But you will come back later," Cleo said. It was not a question.

Lee opened her eyes and peered up at the lovely face, tense now with little lines fanning out from the mouth.

"I might," she said evenly. "And then again, I might not."

"But you must!" Cleo blurted.

Slowly Lee turned onto her stomach and looked into Cleo's eyes. "Baby," she said quietly, "I don't must anything." She leaned to a side table and set the cigarette into a glass tray. "And the sooner you learn that, the happier you'll be."

Cleo's lower lip trembled, then fell into a pout.

Lee laughed. "You're pretty funny. You know that, don't you?"

"I don't think it is funny at all. I have so little time to be with you. And then Tony will be home."

Lee nodded. "That's what I mean," she said. "You're in no position to make demands on anybody. I'm sure you'd rather die than have your husband find out about me. And frankly, I don't intend to go out of my way for you either. So why don't you just relax, take what you can get, and be grateful."

She watched Cleo's face closely, waiting for the burst of anger and frustration that had to come. Cleo, with her hot Latin blood, was not a woman to dissolve in tears.

But Cleo's reaction surprised her. And pleased her, too. The woman tilted her head back and laughed with the laugh that was like the tinkling of bells.

When she had stopped, she leaned forward and touched her palm to Lee's cheek. "No one before has spoken to me like that," she said softly.

Lee propped herself on one elbow and took a long, long look at the tight, firm breasts, the satiny dark flesh of hips and thighs. "No," she said after a moment, "I don't suppose they have."

"Most have said they would die for me," Cleo murmured.

Lee reached out and trailed a fingertip across the smooth thigh. "I think I'd be more use to you alive."

"Oh!" Cleo moaned, shoving Lee's shoulder playfully. "Don't you ever say anything nice to a girl?"

"What for?" Lee grinned. "You want me to start lying to you?"

Cleo shook her head slowly and took Lee's face between her hands. "No," she murmured. "Just kiss me. Like before."

Instead of moving to take the girl in her arms, Lee laid her cheek against the soft, warm mound of belly. Gently, lightly, her fingertips trailed down the long line of hip and thigh. She heard Cleo sigh and felt her body tense expectantly. And she smiled to herself with her lips against the sweet-smelling flesh. With Cleo, preliminaries were a waste of time.

She put her palm against the girl and massaged her gently, teasing her, wanting her to want what was to come, wanting to make her feel something—if only the agony of waiting and needing. Not wanting Cleo to love her, but at least to know that she had been there, to remember some time in another bed.

Cleo's fingers gripped Lee's skull as though she wanted to crack it wide open.

Lee kissed her then with her mouth open. Held her and used her slowly Making Cleo feel. Making Cleo give...

Lee sat up on the edge of the bed and grinned down at Cleo's glowing face. "Are you still bored?"

Cleo pulled up her shoulders and stretched luxuriantly. "You make love like an angel."

Lee shrugged. "Why not? I've had lots of practice."

Cleo's eyes narrowed as she looked at Lee. "I think I could hate you."

"But you don't," Lee said. She reached under the edge of the bed with her toes and slid into her shoes. "Women never do."

"Just for that," Cleo said, grabbing for a sheet and wriggling down under it, "I will. You can get out of here and stay out."

Lee ignored the smoldering fire behind her and hurried getting dressed. It would be after eleven by the time she got home and Maggie would be waiting, ready to lay her low. Already her body had begun to forget the feel of Cleo's hands, Cleo's lips. Already she was sinking into the tired slump of going home, of facing Maggie, of listening politely while Uncle Andrew bored her out of her mind. It was always like that lately. No matter where she went, no matter what she did, something remained strangely unquiet, restive. The weight of her discontent dragged at her shoulders and slowed her steps—put vile words in her mouth and vile feelings in her heart.

"Don't you care at all?" Cleo said timidly.

"Care about what?" Lee snapped.

If only she could find the thing that niggled. If only she could reach out and come to grips with it, grab it by the throat and choke the life out of it. Get back to the way she used to feel, the way she used to bounce, before Maggie...

Cleo clucked her tongue and turned away disgustedly. "Doesn't anyone mean anything to you, Lee?" she said to the wall.

And Lee thought—the love of Maggie is the root of all evil...

The thought clanged loudly inside her head. So loudly she almost forgot Cleo was there. But after a moment, she turned and peered at the girl intensely. She would be needing Cleo. And Helga. And anything else that wasn't Maggie.

She didn't bother to apologize. She said simply, "I'll see you later," and made a beeline through the apartment and out the hall door.

It had stopped raining some time during the morning, but cabs were still scarce. By the time she caught one, she could have walked halfway home. She sank back in the seat and glowered at the top of the driver's head. She felt empty and full, sweaty under her arms and dry around the lips. And if she'd had Maggie beside her, she would have turned around and slugged her.