 
# Jane—The Early Years

by Kay Hemlock Brown

Copyright (c) 2015 by Kay Hemlock Brown

Published at Smashwords

ISBN: 9781311009975

# Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

Jane; Zsusana; Deanna; Heather

WORK

Thunder; Isabella; Groceries; Spying; A Night Out; A Lesbian Shoot; New Models

LOVE

Stephanie Johnson; Dancing; Ann; Holidays; A Motorbike; Christmas Day; Deanna Goes Home; Life with Heather; Reunion; Deanna Comes Home; In Bed

METAL

Arthur; Money; Maria; Metalfest; Body Painting; Arthur; Scorpia

MARIA

Movies with Zsuszana; Maria's Home; Sickness; Mary-Ellen; Convalescence; Lunch with Maria

MARY-ELLEN

Jane Has Lunch; Mary-Ellen's Problem; The Oil Study; Helping Mary-Ellen; The Year of Scorpia; Zsuszana starts Modeling; Another Print; Dressing like a Girl; A Checkup; Arthur's Gift; Deanna in Oils

COOLER WEATHER

LIVING WITH THE GIFT

Black Belt Scorpia; Trouble at the Station; Thanksgiving; Another Year; A visit to California

A VISIT TO BELGIUM

Stephanie; Around the pool; The little house with the pool; Praha; Digital Manipulation; Edita is Found; Mimi calls; Shopping for Schools; Lunch with Stephanie

HORROR

College

CHAPTER ONE

# Prologue

## Jane

Jane became a 'glamour' photographer by accident. By the greatest luck, a retired couple had let her use their spacious New York City home while they spent most of the year in Florida, and the couple, the Morans, had told Jane that yes, she may use the house as a studio.

Most models responded better to a man than to a woman, and Jane knew that she made a very handsome young boy. So, without actually _saying_ that she was a boy, she allowed her young female models to assume that she was a guy. She introduced herself as "Jan", and got started with the photography.

—:—

## Zsusana

Her first model was a young woman called Zsusana, very foreign, who was accompanied by a beautiful older woman. Jane had blank forms which the models had to fill out and sign, after which Jane took between twenty and a hundred photographs with both a film camera and a digital camera, and negotiated how the photos would be shared between the model and herself, paid the model for her time, and saw her off. The studio was a simple one, just backdrops placed in the large dining room, with a lovely old sofa as the only furniture, and some basic lighting, in addition to the beautiful chandelier on a dimmer.

—:—

## Deanna

The second model came alone, a couple of days later. She was a voluptuous green-eyed strawberry-blonde originally from California, of medium height–about five-foot-five. She wore a sexy one-piece in a halter style that left her back bare, and medium heels in which she moved with perfect balance. She began to flirt outrageously with Jane, but in a sweet, childlike way that didn't disgust her. Her name was Deanna, and she had the most sensuous lips Jane had ever seen. They weren't heavy, but they were full and soft, and ready to curve in a mischievous smile at the slightest excuse. And she had large, full breasts that stood up on their own. "All natural," she said, seriously. "I'll never fool with them. I hate that."

Jane suppressed an urge to agree; after all, she was masquerading as a young man.

"But, after a few years..."

"No," Deanna said, firmly shaking her head. "I'll just stop modeling."

"What will you do then?"

Deanna shrugged. Their eyes met, and Jane tried to see if the girl seemed to be prepared to join the sex trade. Perhaps she was already available, for the right fee? The number of nude models who kept aloof from prostitution was significant, Jane knew, but the temptation had to be great.

"Deanna, will you... touch yourself for me?"

Deanna giggled, and proceeded to accommodate Jane. Jane made her stop smiling with some difficulty. Surprisingly, it was easy to make Deanna look turned on. Jane asked her to think of her boyfriend, and her eyes de-focused, and she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and proceeded to caress herself, and Jane caught it all. Afterwards, she looked at Jane with an odd, searching look that made Jane anxious for a few seconds, until she sighed softly and smiled, a smile that reached all the way to her wonderful eyes.

Deanna disappeared into the dressing-room, and Jane heard her singing to herself in a high, sweet voice. She came out fully dressed, and they smiled at each other, suddenly awkward again. She had a handsome raincoat that would keep her warm; it was getting to be a chilly October.

Unexpectedly, Deanna pulled out a piece of paper, and began to scribble on it. "Here," she said, "give me a call sometime!"

Jane took the paper and glanced at it. For the first time she noticed Deanna's handwriting: small and curly and well-formed. Jane would have expected it to be big and bold, with flourishes. Deanna dimpled at her, as if she could read Jane's mind. They shook hands —a ridiculous thing to do, after the intimacy of a nude photo shoot, but customary— and Deanna left. Jane watched her walk down the street from her window, the feeling of loneliness crashing down on her once again. They were only women; why did she feel so abandoned when they left?

—:—

## Heather

The next model was a stunning beauty. Like Jane, she had her hair cut short, but in a more feminine style, and she filled out her jeans beautifully. She undressed right in front of Jane, peeling away her Levis, and her musculature was so gorgeous, Jane found it hard to breathe. The girl was more beautiful than most men Jane had seen.

Her name was Heather, and she was a lesbian. She made it plain from the outset that not only was Jane —still masquerading as a guy— not to touch her, she wasn't to come too close, either. With this one, Jane had to think of completely different kinds of poses. Heather's idea of posing was closer to that of a gymnast, or a body sculptor. After they exhausted the possibilities of that, Jane tried to persuade her to relax, to pose like a girl.

There was initial reluctance, but Jane had the money, and therefore the control. They took a break, during which the girl insisted on seeing the images Jane had taken thus far, and a look of pleasure came into her eyes. She smiled at Jane; suddenly they were friends.

"You're good," she said, in her lovely, warm contralto.

"I'm a girl," Jane said, before she could stop herself.

There was a long silence.

"Get out of here!"

Jane nodded, and looked down at her camera. When she finally looked back at Heather, her lips were parted, her eyes were wide with interest.

"Are you butch? Are you a dyke?"

Jane blushed furiously.

"No... I'm straight, actually."

Heather laughed, not ridiculing Jane, but genuinely amused.

"Got a boyfriend?"

"I'm between men, right now," Jane said, smiling.

Heather cursed, not in anger, but in wonder. "You're some looker, you know that? Man, I'd like to see you—all of you!"

Jane shook her head. "I'm not into girls," she said firmly, though she couldn't stop herself from blushing.

"Yeah, right; that's why you take pictures of girls, sure!" Somehow Jane found that she wasn't hurt by Heather's amusement.

The rest of the shoot went well, except that Jane was acutely embarrassed. Heather was quite delighted to display her charms for Jane's camera, and do things that she would never have considered until Jane had revealed what she was. Jane was utterly confused; in spite of Heather's willing exhibitionism, there was a certain dignity about the girl that made her seem fully dressed, even when stark naked. She was of medium height, but she had incredible legs, muscular and sculpted, and a hard, flat stomach that made Jane weak with excitement. As much as she told herself that she only liked men, she had to face the fact that Heather's abdomen was far sexier than that of any man she had seen.

"Ever been kissed by a woman?"

"Why, of course," Jane protested. "Lots of times!" Jane was putting things away, but Heather sat on a table, still gloriously nude. How could she be so unconcerned about her nudity?

"No, I mean _really_ kissed!"

"Heather, let's leave it. I'm not interested. Really!"

"Then why did you tell me?"

"Because you looked so uncomfortable, that's why!"

Heather did not crowd her, did not push herself into Jane's space. She simply kept talking, _asking_ Jane repeatedly. There was a faint smile on her face, and an eagerness, but Jane knew Heather was not desperate for a kiss. She was just curious.

"One little kiss," she said, softly. "I can't go without a kiss from you," she said. "I like you, Jan... man, I gotta get a kiss from you, girl!"

Finally, perhaps something showed in Jane's face. With a triumphant grin, Heather came to her. Jane noted her prominent canines; how sexy they made her look!

She tried to keep herself from melting into Heather's kiss, but it had been a long time since anyone had held her in their arms. Her arms went round Heather's back, and she felt the strength there; she felt Heather's pubic mound press into her belly, and her soft lips against her own. She felt Heather's tongue in her mouth, and she gave into the full pleasure of the kiss, the strange wonder of Heather's smooth, whisker-less face against her own, and the feel of Heather's excitement, her strong buttocks under Jane's hand, and then Heather's hard leg between her own.

Jane pushed away, snatching her hand away from Heather's breast, where she it seemed to have ended up all by itself. Heather caught it and held it, looking thoughtfully at her.

"Okay," she whispered, releasing Jane gently. "I wanted you to know what it's like," she said. "It isn't so bad."

Jane shrugged, her eyes lowered. It took a second to compose herself, and smile. "You're beautiful, Heather... thank you for modeling for me."

Heather smiled, this time a soft, warm smile, not predatory, not amused, but something else. It made Jane warm inside, and made Heather look utterly irresistible.

Heather put her jeans back on, and Jane asked her to stay for a little snack. She found herself telling Heather everything; how she was a painter, and had begun taking photographs as part of her portrait-work, and how she had wound up in the erotic photo business.

"But I want to get back into painting," she confided. Heather invited trust; Jane felt as if she had finally found someone she could talk to. "I'd like to paint you, if you don't mind, Heather," she said. She hadn't consciously decided to do so; her subconscious mind had a way of getting what it wanted.

"Sure," Heather said, with a shrug. "Do you have anything you've done?"

"Well, it's all packed away; but I have images of them."

"Let me see."

Heather's reactions to her paintings were all that she could have desired. Heather was far from ignorant about painting; she wanted to see more and more, pointing out this feature and that. She knew little about oil painting, as such, but knew all about composition and light.

It was only after Heather had taken her leave, promising to look her up again, that Jane realized she hadn't asked Heather about herself.
CHAPTER TWO

# Work

## Thunder

Jane was delighted to have Deanna back for another session. This time Deanna wore a sexy black velvet dress and very high-heeled sandals with thongs that tied up her calf. She had beautiful feet, and Janet took hundreds of shots of her undressing. Her golden hair was perfect, falling in soft waves to the small of her back, and she knew exactly how to make love to the camera. And those amazing breasts!

She felt more comfortable with Deanna than with her other models, though she had spent more time with Heather, and confided to her many things she had never discussed with anyone else. Deanna was warm and comfortable and accepting, and despite her obvious interest in Jane, she never let it become uncomfortable. They cooked together and had supper, but when it was time for Deanna to leave, a huge thunderstorm sprang up, almost a hurricane, and there was no question of Deanna heading back home in it. Jane got a spare bed ready for Deanna, having first made sure she was comfortable staying the night "with a man."

"Oh... it's okay. There's no way I'm going home in _that,_ " she assured Jane.

Quite by accident, Deanna discovered Jane's secret. Jane had undressed for bed, and put on a nightie without thinking. She was just looking at herself in the mirror, wondering whether she was getting to be a little too masculine, when there was a loud thunderclap very close by, and she heard a shriek, and Deanna burst into the room, her eyes wild. She came to an abrupt halt, seeing Jane in her negligee. She herself was wearing only a terry robe Jane had given her. Just then there was another thunderclap, and forgetting her surprise, Deanna threw herself into Jane's arms.

"Oh god... I didn't know you were a girl!"

There was yet another thunderclap, and Deanna's body stiffened in Jane's arms momentarily. Then all the lights went out, leaving them in total darkness, together with the entire neighborhood. Several blocks away, there were lights still on; in their immediate vicinity, though, the power was out.

Jane remembered the length of time with Deanna in her arms as stretching for hours, though it must have been mere seconds. When the crash of thunder died down, Deanna's frightened clutch eased, and she let out her breath slowly in a sigh. Her fingers felt sensuous through the buttery fabric of Jane's negligee, and she felt almost an ache of loss as they briefly drew apart to allow Jane to put on a wrap. "Come on," Jane said softly, "let's go get some candles."

"Okay," said Deanna, breathlessly.

Jane's heart was thudding in her chest, as she wondered how Deanna would take the surprise of seeing Jane in her nightie. Outside, in the distance, they could see more lights going out; it was a bad outage. They could barely see their way around the room. Just as Jane despaired of ever being allowed to touch Deanna again, she felt Deanna's hand brush her arm, and slip down into her hand.

"Whew, that was strange," Deanna said, with a brave laugh. _She's still frightened,_ Jane thought. They slowly felt their way into the hall, where Jane kept such things as candles in a closet. "What are you doing?" asked Deanna, softly.

"Looking for matches," Jane muttered, and then said, "Got them. Here, hold this."

She struck a match, anxiously, worried about setting something on fire. Deanna's eyes appeared in the light of the match, and Jane's heart nearly stopped; she had never realized how beautiful were the girl's eyes. They lit the candle, and gazed at each other, at a loss for words.

"Is it okay? May I still stay?"

Jane was surprised at Deanna's question. "Of course! Why?"

"I... I don't know; I don't want to intrude on your privacy, you know..."

"Please stay!"

The smile Deanna gave her warmed her inside. _I can't get too fond of a porn model,_ Jane's sensible self warned her.

Deanna begged to be allowed to sleep in Jane's room. The storm was not letting up, and the thunder was a constant rumble in the background.

They dragged a sofa into Jane's room, and Jane told Deanna to sleep on Jane's own bed. "I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Are you sure?" Deanna asked. "There's plenty of room for both of us!"

Jane observed Deanna's suppressed excitement, somehow accentuated by the candlelight. Her body hungered after Deanna, the feel of her still fresh in memory. Somehow Jane managed a smile that took the edge off her refusal.

"I'll be right here," Jane said softly, "and the couch is comfortable! Would you like something to drink before you go to bed, Deanna?"

She didn't. Leaving a candle burning in a safety lantern out in the hall, Jane got comfortable on the couch. She could see vaguely in the darkness Deanna getting out of the terry robe, hanging it on the bedpost, and slipping into Jane's bed. The storm settled down to heavy rain.

"I love the rain," Deanna sighed, and Jane thought to herself how Deanna's voice conveyed all that she was, her soft lusciousness, how she approached Jane, cautiously, but not easily turned aside. Jane was still shocked at how strongly she was attracted to, and affected by the other girl.

She waited impatiently to hear Deanna's breathing settle into a regular pattern; her mind was seething with illicit fantasies of the feel of Deanna's body under Jane's greedy hands. After some 200 photographs, Deanna's body should have had no secrets from her, but the look in Deanna's eyes as she struck the match was burned into her retina. From merely a girl with a beautiful body, she had become a beauty in Jane's eyes. Gradually she became aware of soft rustling sounds, and she realized that Deanna was trying to comfort herself. Here, in Jane's house, in her room? But why not? After all she was in the sex business.

The uneasy calm did not last; there was a flash of lightning, followed by an enormous clap of thunder almost right above them. In the split-second between the lightning and the thunder, Jane saw Deanna's body arching in her self-induced pleasure, only to collapse in shock. Deanna's shriek and the thunderclap came together, and Jane saw her pop upright, her eyes wild, bright against her darkened face, and in a trice Jane found herself in bed with Deanna, holding her tight. The lightning seemed so close, even Jane was shaking. They hardly breathed for a few seconds.

Deanna let out her breath slowly. "Jesus!" she whispered. "That was right in the room, practically!"

Jane laughed nervously.

"You stay right here," Deanna instructed her, firmly. From inches away, the force of her personality hit Jane hard. She could not fear the storm, distracted by Deanna's presence. Her warm, musky fragrance filled Jane's lungs, and her irregular breathing excited Jane past bearing. After what seemed a long time, her breathing settled down into a semblance of regularity. "I'm glad I'm not at home!" she said.

"Do you live alone?"

"Uh huh," she said, nodding in the darkness. "Oh Jan!" she whispered, "Thank you for letting me stay the night!"

"Sure!" whispered Jane back, patting her arm.

After a few long seconds, Deanna softly kissed Jane on the lips.

"Do you mind?" she asked softly.

Jane shook her head, struck dumb with love. The little candle was plenty bright enough now, as their eyes grew accustomed to the dark.

Deanna kissed her again, and then again, more urgently.

It was utterly different from any kisses Jane had received from anyone. These were soft, soft, and even as Deanna's excitement rose, they were still soft. "Oh Jan!" she cried in a whisper, "Tell if you want me to stop!"

To stop was the last thing Jane wanted. Her heart sang when Deanna threw a leg over her, and proceeded to kiss her thoroughly, on her entire face and the hollow of her throat, her breath coming in soft pants. The feel of her heavy breasts on Jane's body was something new and incredible, and Jane was amazed at how pleasurable it was.

Deanna's progress was interrupted by yet another thunderclap, evidently some distance away. Deanna buried her face in Jane's pillow, while Jane comforted her with soft words and her hands. Deanna genuinely did not like thunder, it was very clear. The rigidity of her body gradually ebbed once more, and Deanna's legs relaxed their grip on Jane's body.

With a sigh, very slowly, she rolled off Jane's body, keeping only her arm across Jane's body.

"I'm sorry... I guess all the thunder got me... excited!" There was a giggle in her voice that made Jane want to smile. "Are you into girls?"

"I don't know," said Jane, confused, "It's never happened before... like this, anyway!"

"It's my first time, too."

Jane laughed awkwardly. "I don't think a little kissing counts, really," she said, more to convince herself than anything else.

"You want to stop, then."

Jane's heart went cold. She remained silent. Deanna turned to look down at her face. She cupped Jane's cheek with her hand, and her breast lay heavy on Jane's own. "Jan... you're so beautiful..." she breathed, "... Please! Please let me... let me touch you!"

"Okay," said Jane.

Deanna's hand slowly moved down Jane's face and onto her breast, through the thin fabric of Jane's nightie, and Deanna took in a sharp breath, as she explored the texture of Jane's breast, which had been neglected for so many months. Deanna was clearly as turned on with Jane's body as Jane was with hers. It was exquisite pleasure to feel Deanna exploring her body, gently moving aside the fabric of Jane's nightie.

Deanna made love to her. It was sweet and tender, tinged with an edge of fear. Jane surrendered to Deanna's hands, closing her eyes. It was as if Deanna knew Jane's body better than she knew it herself. All night long, they took turns to bring each other to little climaxes, as if they were little girls, experimenting with sex.

Hours later, they were lying side by side, with Deanna holding Jane's hand in both her own, caressing it.

"Is it your first time?" Deanna asked again in a soft whisper.

"With a girl, yeah," Jane replied, awkwardly.

"It's different," Deanna said, presently. Jane only nodded.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, and Jane was happier than she had ever been in her life. To lie like this, with Deanna's chubby legs intertwined in her own, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. It stormed most of the night, but Deanna lay calm in Jane's embrace.

—:—

Jane struggled to wakefulness, feeling Deanna's body gone from beside her. Deanna was dressed in her borrowed robe again, staring out of the window.

"Let me buy you breakfast!" Deanna said, affecting a cheery briskness that Jane saw through at once. Jane realized that the closeness they had felt must have affected Deanna as much as it had Jane. She had imagined that the models she worked with were no strangers to all kinds of sex.

"Nonsense," Jane replied, "there's plenty of food in the refrigerator; I'll make breakfast for us."

Deanna silently watched Jane cooking eggs, and then they ate.

"The best eggs I've ever eaten," Deanna declared with a shy smile.

Jane grinned. "I'm okay with breakfast," she said, pleased.

"Are you happy to live alone, or... or do you like company?"

"Like you, for instance?"

"Well, yeah?" Deanna said, blushing furiously. "I mean, I just wondered, that's all."

"Sure! You can stay over... whenever you want to, really. Like, I don't have anything to do today."

"Really?"

"Uh uh. I guess I'll do a little painting."

"Oh." Deanna looked at Jane, her eyes wide and thoughtful. "I'd better go home and take the mail in," Deanna said.

"Would you like to come over for supper?" Deanna nodded. "I'll fix up the room for you."

After Deanna helped wash up, she went back upstairs and carefully dressed. Jane tried to leave her alone, but it was too much temptation; in the end she watched it all. Deanna took her leave, and Jane watched until Deanna walked out of sight down the street. How gracefully she walked! Feeling utterly confused, Jane walked about the house, ending up in her bedroom, trying to imagine Deanna in her bed, what she must have looked like when they touched each other, when they kissed, when Deanna whispered secret words of desire in her ear. But all she could remember was Deanna's face, the moment she struck the match.

Jane found herself before a canvas she had been saving for something—she couldn't remember what. And Deanna's face looked back at her, lit by a single match, and the cold light of far away lightning.

She laid down her brush, and hurried away, her throat suddenly parched. After a long drink of water, she sat down in the living-room, trying to figure it out.

It was amazing how successful their impromptu experiment in sex had been; Jane still thought of it as mutual masturbation. It had been far more satisfying than lying in bed alone, trying to give herself the sensations that she remembered when she had had sex with Jay. She was getting better at it, but last night had been simply incredible. _They were just two girls, having fun,_ she told herself.

—:—

If Jane found her feelings confusing, things were worse for Deanna. It had been a shock to see Jane in women's clothes, and she had surprised herself by making love to Jane. After touching and tasting Jane, it was impossible to think of her as anything _but_ female.

As she took the subway to the part of the city in which she lived, being jostled by sundry smelly men trying to feel her up, the desire to hurry back to Jane grew almost to a compulsion. But Deanna was a proud girl, and it seemed as if the right way to do things was to ease into the blossoming relationship slowly. She neither wanted to hurt Jane, nor be hurt by her; and the more slowly she proceeded, the less chance there would be of anyone getting hurt.

Her apartment was as perfectly tidy as it always was. The only note of discord was the few pieces of equipment that had belonged to her late pet cat Maggie, who had taken ill and died just days earlier.

She did her laundry, sorted through the mail, listened to her phone messages, and more or less semi-consciously, set about preparing for being away from the apartment for a few days. She packed the essentials in a little back-pack—a suitcase would frighten Jane—wrote out some checks and mailed them, and tried to eat a snack lunch. She tried to watch TV, which was tuned to a porn channel, but seeing a girl who looked too much like Jane, but spoke and acted differently, she turned the TV off. She read her e-mail, browsed the web for a while, and then impatiently got to her feet. Minutes later, she was on her way back to Jane's.

—:—

## Isabella

The next model to come along was a tall beauty, leggy and awkward, with the most beautiful eyes Jane had ever seen. It took some concentration to focus on the girl, without comparing her with Deanna all the time. They were utterly different types, the one voluptuous and passionate, the other slim and cool; the one merry-eyed and outgoing, the other detached and grave. They had some things in common; they both had a kind of innocence that appealed to Jane, and they both had a certain restraint.

Jane knew Deanna was watching the shoot from out of sight, but when she saw that Deanna stayed out of the room, she began to relax. The shoot went well; the girl really was a stunner, and only the fact that a night full of sex had sated Jane made it possible for her to ignore the temptation of the body that stood before her. As always, Jane went out of her way to make the model feel beautiful; she was learning that that was an essential part of the craft.

During a break, Deanna asked whether she could fetch some snacks for the three of them. That seemed like a good idea, and accordingly the new model, Isabella, found snacks waiting for her at the end of the session.

Isabella's first sight of Deanna was interesting. She had evidently not realized there was another woman in the house. She adjusted the wrap around herself, watching Deanna out of the corner of her eye. Jane spent a minute wondering how to behave around the two girls, and then decided to ignore the fact that they didn't know each other. That worked; Isabella ate, delicately, and they got to chatting. When Isabella laughed at Jane's joke, she had the most wonderful pretty dimples.

Isabella relaxed for the rest of the shoot, but she really was a grave girl. She would pose however Jane asked her, but there was no fun in her. She looked coolly aloof, or at best merely cautious. There seemed no other emotion in her, passion, desire, nothing. She smiled for one shot, and that was all. And she smiled when she took her leave.

Deanna tore herself away after several days. She had had shoots with other photographers, and went out on various errands of her own, but came back. But now she went home, saying she had to see how the apartment was.

Jane had often fantasized about spying on Deanna as she lay sleeping, but never had the courage to do it. It seemed as if to do so would be to recognize that she had an emotional interest in Deanna as much as a sexual, physical one. But with her gone, Jane knew that no matter what she pretended, she lusted after Deanna as much as- -no, far more than- -she had ever lusted after Jay.

She remembered the first moment that Deanna took her hand in her own small, soft ones, and placed it on her breast. She knew her own breasts well; she had never touched them herself until recently, when she had realized that she must either make love to herself, or go mad. But her own breasts felt nothing like Deanna's; the silkiness of it, the warm, aliveness of the soft mounds of pure sensation! Merely touching them made Jane tremble with feelings she had never felt before; but Deanna! She was half mad with pleasure at Jane's touch. All through the night she had guided Jane's hand back to her breasts; she had said Jane's touch was like an angel. They had kissed then, oh, such a tender kiss—all their kissing had been soft, so tender, like blessings. Jane had longed for a hard kiss, like a man, or like Heather had kissed her. But Deanna's kisses were painfully soft and sweet.

—:—

## Groceries

The pantry was empty, the refrigerator was bare, and hunger drove Jane out for groceries. Jay had warned her to dress always like a boy, in jeans. "Your neighbors must always think you're a guy; otherwise some model will find out, and you'll never get another job again." Well, it was too late; half her models knew she was female now. Looking through her clothes, she could find nothing that suited her mood. She wanted something sexy, something that would attract attention. Well, all she had that was sexy was lingerie, and she had heard somewhere that girls were wearing lingerie-inspired cocktail dresses.

She spent what seemed like hours dressing; she wore a burgundy teddy and stockings, and over them a rather modest lace-edged slip. Nothing else seemed decent enough, and this was hardly decent as it was; her father and brothers would kill her if they saw her in it. But there was little risk of that; her father may as well have been a million miles away. The pumps she put on looked terrible on her; she wanted something sexy—something with heels, with straps that wound up her legs, like Deanna had worn on that incredible night; oh god, how it turned her on to think of it!

Her mind turned to how Deanna dressed—sexy, but somehow utterly respectable, and then to Isabella's clothes, provocative and stylish.

It was very cold and wet; she needed a raincoat or an umbrella, as well as something to keep her warm. She put on the leather jacket she usually wore with her jeans and T-shirt, and picked up her purse. She tried to walk past the long mirror in the hallway without looking at it. She only noticed her posture—too ramrod straight. It was as if she could not get away from her severe upbringing. She slowed down; she didn't want to march around like a soldier.

From the moment she stepped onto the sidewalk of the main street she attracted attention. She had put on a heavy coat of bright red lipstick, and darkened her eyebrows, that was all. Evidently it was enough. She broke a lifetime of habit, and smiled back at the first woman who smiled at her, a pretty blue-eyed blonde. It was easy to smile, she discovered, and it made her forget that she missed Deanna already, and that she was hungry, and that she didn't know who and what she was, or what she wanted to be.

She remembered that some of the women whom she had thought of as most beautiful had a trick with their eyes, opening them a little extra wide. She tried that, and liked how it felt.

She went first to the little mall a few blocks away that housed a number of clothing stores, and began to look around. She had never been here before; she had never needed many clothes. Now, suddenly, she saw a thousand things she wanted; skirts, tops, oh, sexy dresses with straps and bare backs... gorgeous silk stockings, and the most incredible bras. But thrift was ingrained in her; she spent a little less than $100 on a couple of essentials. Then she saw the high-heeled sandals.

The attendant came towards her, her mouth hanging open. "May I help you, miss?" she asked, worshipfully. "Anything you like?"

"I was admiring those sandals," Jane said, and her voice seemed more sensuous and genteel than usual.

"Oh, yes indeed! Oh they would be perfect with your outfit! You must be a size six, but let's check..."

"Seven," Jane said.

The store wasn't busy, and another girl attendant came over, just to watch and admire. Jane blushed; how could she tell them she was no beauty, that it was all false pretenses?

She had worn really high heels only once, for her senior prom. She got to her feet carefully, but the sandals were light as feathers. No, not tiny mincing steps. And not big strides, either; something in-between...

"Oh, they're perfect!"

"Has anyone told you you're beautiful? Oh miss, you must be a model! Are you?"

Jane only laughed. They weren't being facetious; she could see the admiration in their eyes, and they were not bad looking themselves. And they touched her: on her arms, of course her feet, and even her hands. She thanked them well, looking each girl in the eye and smiling, and picked up her bags, and walked carefully out.

No one in the neighborhood grocery store recognized her. It was like being in a play, or a movie; eyes followed her everywhere, and she took her time, making sure that when she bent her knees to pick something up from a lower shelf that she was still decently covered. Everything that Deanna liked to eat: salad, fruit, eggs, milk, ice cream, soup; things she liked herself: steak and potatoes, squash, beans, simple farm food, cereal; sugar, flour, bread; when she was done, she had rather a large pile of supplies to take home.

"Need help with that?" asked a voice that was somehow familiar.

—:—

## Spying

The moment Deanna arrived home, she felt emotionally exhausted. She felt an unbearable compulsion to go straight back and find Jane, and throw herself in her arms and kiss every inch of her face. But she didn't have the energy; she just sat down, and felt tears streaming down her face. She wasn't sad, she wasn't angry; she had never felt like this before!

She ate a bowlful of ice cream, which managed to stop her tears, took a nap, then showered and changed. She had left her toothbrush at Jane's house. But that was only an excuse; she had to go back and see Jane, that was all. A little more ice cream, and she felt up to it.

Just as she rounded the corner of the street off which Jane lived, she saw Jane. Deanna's heart stopped; she had never imagined Jane dressed like this. She did walk a little stiffly, but even the walk was wonderful in Deanna's eyes. Jane turned in the direction away from Deanna, not having seen her, and Deanna followed, not quite realizing that she was doing so. When she did, she felt utterly guilty, and fished in her purse for a pair of dark glasses. She felt unhappy, afraid; where was Jane going? Didn't she know how dangerous the city was? Why was she dressed so out of character? Did she have a secret life, some shameful occupation that helped pay the rent? How much did a photographer earn, anyway? How could she afford that enormous house?

It was soon clear that Jane was simply out on the town, doing a little shopping. She didn't go far, and Deanna skulked with difficulty, watching Jane trying on shoes, being sweet and gracious to the attendants. Something that had endeared Jane to Deanna right away had been her politeness, and now she observed Jane dealing with a variety of people, and her approval went higher and higher.

Oh, how beautifully she walked! The new sandals had an almost magical effect on Jane; she was transformed completely into a goddess. Deanna began to think of ways of making herself visible to Jane, to join her on her shopping spree. Would she resent the company? No; she knew the girl well enough to answer that.

The temptation to stay hidden and spy on Jane was greater than the desire to accost her. Deanna watched Jane through the windows of the little grocery, and then from the little books and magazines alcove. Then she saw a boy come along, and Jane looked up and smiled.

The jealousy Deanna felt briefly turned to a kind of dull hopelessness. There was no reason Jane shouldn't talk to a boy, really; Deanna wasn't competing with men for Jane's... Jane's what? Attention? Love?

—:—

## A Night Out

Jane turned around at the sound of the voice, and saw Heather grinning at her. She looked oh, so handsome with a single small hoop earring, and those tight jeans hugging her incredible legs, and a short leather biker jacket, open in front to show a white top that revealed her amazing chest and stomach. Jane studied her with the eyes of a photographer; Heather was not dressed particularly provocatively.

"I think I can manage, but thanks, anyway!" Jane smiled, delighted to see Heather. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you through the window! Come, let me help you carry these home!"

"All right; thanks, Heather! I think I have a store card..."

As she was looking through her purse for the store card, she saw Deanna watching them, and as soon as Deanna realized she had been spotted, the look of hurt on her face fled, and she smiled brightly. Jane sent a warm smile her way, and waved her over.

"Deanna, I want you to meet Heather; Heather, Deanna!"

Heather, always gracious, held out her hand to Deanna with a polite smile. Deanna shook hands, murmuring something appropriate, glanced into Heather's steady grey eyes, and looked away in confusion. She looked at Jane, and saw confusion there, too.

"Have you ladies had supper? If not, may I have the honor of taking you out?"

"I had a whole lot of ice cream, just a few minutes ago," Deanna said, wondering what made her confess that. Jane chuckled, amused.

"I found my refrigerator was empty, hence the little expedition," she said.

"Do you always shop in such fabulous clothes?" asked Heather, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Deanna looked from her to Jane. Jane was blushing, as she exchanged glances with Deanna. Deanna's heart took flight.

"No... I... I was just in the mood, I guess..."

"Why don't we drop off your stuff, and then go out to get something to eat?"

"I was planning to cook," Jane said, earnestly.

Heather and Deanna exchanged glances, and Deanna raised her eyebrows and smiled. "She is a wonderful cook," Deanna admitted, and saw Heather agreeing vehemently.

"But not tonight! Come on!"

The three of them fit together perfectly. Old-world manners and politeness came naturally to both Deanna and Heather. Jane carried herself with great dignity, but Deanna saw that her upbringing had been simple and rural; city manners confused her, though Heather brilliantly kept her from embarrassment. In addition, Jane behaved like a man, drawing Deanna's chair for her, opening doors for them, but she did so with such grace that it didn't detract from her amazing femininity.

At first, Heather's eyes were drawn to Jane like a magnet. But gradually she paid more attention to Deanna. They ordered, Heather and Deanna with the confidence of experience, and Jane with extreme caution. Deanna and Heather became partners in making sure Jane relaxed and enjoyed herself.

"Thank you, for a wonderful evening!" Heather said to Deanna, after she had kissed Jane at her door.

"Thank you for everything!" Deanna said, surprised to find herself not wanting Heather to go.

"May I take you home? Do you live far from here? It's late," Heather said, looking serious.

"Er, I—I was hoping to visit with Jane for a bit..."

"Oh, we were going to spend the evening together!" Jane confirmed, looking wide-eyed at Heather. Heather's eyes looked hurt for just a moment before she recovered herself; if Deanna hadn't been watching her like a hawk, she would never have seen it. But evidently Jane had.

"Why don't you join us, Heather?"

"Oh, no, I have to go; but thanks all the same! Another time?"

The girls watched Heather hurry off in the thin drizzle. Deanna felt damp, though inside she felt wonderful. Jane looked fresh as a daisy.

"What an evening!"

"What were you doing in the grocery store?"

"Following you," Deanna confessed.

There was a long silence, as Jane's polite smile became puzzled. "Why didn't you come up and talk to me?"

"I don't know," said Deanna.

Jane looked into Deanna's lovely green eyes, trying not to look soulful. She led the way to the sofa, and sat down, pulling Deanna gently down beside her.

"Deanna..." she said, her voice warm and loving, but a little reproachful. Her eyes looked troubled, and Deanna hated herself for a few seconds for causing concern. "I don't know where we're going with this..."

"Is it Heather?"

Jane's reaction was reassuring. "Heather? Oh, no, not at all,... no, I don't think so." She did color a little, so there was something there. "It's just that... I don't think I'm... you know..."

"Let's see what happens," Deanna said quickly. "Maybe it doesn't need to go anywhere; maybe we'll become just good friends; maybe I'm just lonely, and I've never met anyone as wonderful as you!"

Jane's face seemed to melt with some sweet emotion, and miraculously their arms were around each other, and Deanna was small and cuddly, her chubby thighs on Jane's lap. "Whatever this is, it's precious," Deanna whispered, "I'd give up a lot to—to be with you!"

Jane ran her finger along Deanna's cheek, and saw her eyes close with pleasure. Her every feature said pleasure, from her soft, honey-gold hair, to her soft skin, her sensuous lips, neither too heavy nor too thin, her lovely, lovely green eyes, that had none of the sharpness that green eyes were so often imbued with in books, to her miraculous breasts, her thighs, her dimpled arms, her warm, soft voice. Oh, she would have been a princess for the right man! Jane's heart went cold with the thought of some undeserving man possessing Deanna.

"I'm crushing you," Deanna said, and got to her feet. Though she was fully developed, she stood just a little over five feet, and Jane noticed her remarkably narrow waist, for a girl so well-endowed. She wasn't narrow-waisted, but she was most definitely not fat, not in the least. She was just—perfect.

"Let's go change," Jane said, emotionally exhausted.

"How come you wore this sexy outfit?"

"I don't know... I kind of missed you... I wanted to cheer myself up, I guess."

"Aww!"

"Aww! " said Jane, mimicking Deanna, making her laugh.

Jane had the most amazing selection of nightgowns, from sexy baby-doll-style nothings to heavy flannel gowns; and it was one of these latter that she wore now.

"Tell me a little about yourself," Jane asked, as always forthright but somehow tactful.

Deanna took a deep breath. Then the story slowly came out; she had taken a job as a secretary, and ended up doing sexual favors for her boss. He had been mean to her, and she had quit, and quite by accident been discovered by a website. She had posed for several nudie magazines, but hadn't gone far. "They keep wanting me to do hardcore, but all I care to do is... masturbate. I love to masturbate... does it bother you to hear me say that?"

Jane smiled. "Not when you say it!"

"Do you masturbate?"

Jane nodded, reddening.

"Not a lot, though, I can tell. Girls who masturbate are looser, more relaxed, less anxious."

"You think I need to be more relaxed?" Jane giggled.

"No... I think you're perfect as you are. But I want you to be happy!"

"Deanna, why—why don't you do hardcore? Don't you like guys?"

It was Deanna's turn to blush.

"I'm a virgin," she said softly. "Only you've been inside me."

Jane was horrified.

"But—but you said that your boss..."

"I only sucked him off. I like doing oral sex on boys; it's incredible! The feel of a penis—oh god! Don't you think?"

Jane nodded. She had loved to give oral sex to Jay.

Thinking of the Jay she had loved was like thinking of someone who had died; this Jay was somehow not the same. She would have preferred not to have anything to do with him, except that he knew how good a photographer she was, and he could find her work. She tried to explain some of this to Deanna, and she understood perfectly.

The phone rang.

"Hey, Jan."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Speak of the devil," she whispered to Deanna, who slid away from Jane, giving her some space.

"Yes?"

"Listen; what do you say to some lesbian shoots?"

Jane shrugged. "I don't care; how hard can it be?"

"It's harder than you think. Dykes get carried away, and the shots are useless. You got to keep them under control. You got to keep them from covering each other up. See what I mean?"

"Oh. It's got to be fake, like hardcore?"

"What do you mean fake? That's for real, kid!"

"Sure, but they don't do it like real people!"

It was becoming an argument, so Jane changed the subject. When would he send her some models? Then he said, use the models she had. He wanted Jane to persuade her models to pose for lesbian shoots. It made her furious. She asked how much she would get for last week's work. He mentioned a handsome figure, but said that if she succeeded with the lesbian project, she would make significantly more.

—:—

## A Lesbian Shoot

Deanna listened unobtrusively to the part of the phone conversation she could hear, making what she could of it. Being more intelligent that most people expected her to be, she had followed practically all of it.

"Is he insisting that you shoot lesbian scenes?"

"No, it's just a lot more money. But apparently it isn't easy."

Deanna shrugged. "I wouldn't know." Her face was angry. "I just don't like the way he talks to you."

It was Jane's turn to shrug. "It's the business; everyone's rude."

Jane explained the details.

They talked about it a while, and then decided that the first step was to look at lesbian shoots on the web. That might reveal what was so remarkably difficult about it.

They got comfortable on the couch, turned the light low, and began to surf the Internet. Lesbian photos were not hard to find, but most of them left the two friends utterly unexcited. They kept searching, and just as they were about to give up, finally found a site which combined stunningly beautiful girls, with lesbian sequences that left them wanting more. Even this site had some duds, but the few good folders they saw persuaded them to pay the fee to enter the restricted parts of the site. Deanna had an Internet service that paid such fees, and soon they were watching in earnest.

Deanna pulled up the hem of her nightie, and slipped one hand between her legs, and put the other on her breast.

"Do you mind?" she whispered.

"No," said Jane, her throat tight. The sight of Deanna touching herself made her feel tender and protective towards her, and the fragrance of her was incredible. She positioned Deanna between her legs, and Deanna leaned back on Jane's breast with a sigh. Jane clicked away, devouring the sight of the young women making love to each other.

"I want you inside me," breathed Deanna, leaning back to look up into Jane's eyes. "Now—I want you _now!_ "

"Deanna..."

Deanna couldn't answer; she thrust away inside herself, her breathing shallow, her pupils dilated. After a while she whimpered and gave up. She said her arm hurt too much.

"All right, relax against me," Jane said softly, and kissing her on the edge of her lips, held her tight against herself, and slipped in her finger into Deanna's vagina. Deanna sighed and closed her eyes briefly. She held Jane's left hand and brought it up to her breast, as she often did. "Squeeze," she begged, "hard!"

Two long minutes later, Jane's efforts were rewarded. Deanna kissed her madly, and begged for more.

They watched more lesbian scenes, and some videos, and made love again. On and on it went, until they suddenly realized it was morning already.

Deanna lay heavily on top of Jane.

"I'm no longer a virgin," she breathed, her cheek against Jane's breast. "Oh man, Jane... if you were a guy, I'd be pregnant with twins!"

Jane was in her own world of sensation. It was disconcerting to learn how much it turned her on to bring Deanna to orgasm. But Deanna's words penetrated her state of wonder, alarming her yet more. It was such a male thing, to take away the virginity of a woman! It troubled Jane deeply.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," Deanna whispered back, all her heart in her voice, "I love you!"

Jane should have seen this moment coming; she was not surprised, and yet she was. How did she feel about Deanna? She wasn't yet ready to think of herself in love with a girl, but the fact was that she was more attracted to Deanna than she had ever been attracted to anyone.

"Sleep," she said softly, running her fingers through Deanna's soft hair, now lying in damp tangles. She pulled a sheet over the resting girl's magnificent breasts, and lay by her side, full of wonder and sated desire.

—:—

## New Models

There were two new models that day, and Jane had to work hard to win their confidence and make them comfortable. The girl who came in the morning was American, from Philadelphia, a little beauty with a sly sense of humor, an exhibitionist who needed a strong restraining hand. In the afternoon came a lovely German Fräulein, ethereally beautiful, and Jane knew at once that the girl would be great. She gave her great respect, and took a mere couple of hundred shots, though she knew she should do more. She entreated with the girl, Ann, to give her the favor of another session. "We must think of something interesting to do," Jane said.

"I will think, and you will think, yes?" replied Ann.

"Good," Jane said, nodding. She was rewarded with a soft kiss and a smile. Sometimes, she thought, this job is almost worth doing.

Deanna left for another shoot late in the afternoon. It was evidently a especially glamorous assignment, since she was picked up in a limousine, and she was dressed in an evening gown. At the steps, she asked Janet to kiss her in view of the limousine driver. Then she turned and got inside, in a whirl of honey-gold waves. Watching the limousine pull out and float out of sight, Janet felt happier than she had felt in years. Deanna simply made her happy, that was all there was to it. And she made Deanna happy, and it would be hard to wait for her to return. Janet wondered whether Deanna would be feted until the wee hours.

The phone rang, and Jane hurried inside.

"Hello?"

"Tell me more about this Deanna of yours," said Heather's voice.

"Well, she's really sweet, and very beautiful," said Jane, smiling, as she settled down on her sofa to talk, quietly undressing herself. "What do you want to know?"

"She was stalking you yesterday, wasn't she?"

"Nonsense; we had arranged to spend the night together, and..."

It was out before she could stop herself.

"... and she saw me going shopping, and followed me."

There was a noticeable pause.

"Did she spend the night?"

"Oh, Heather... does it matter?"

"I don't know; _does_ it?"

"Is she ruined in your eyes, that she spent the night here?"

"No, not ruined... I don't want to interfere if she's in love with you, and—I thought she might be!"

Jane was out of her depth. She simply did not have the experience to deal with such matters, especially when she cared about both girls. Yes, she realized; she did care about Heather. Heather was a wonderful, solid girl.

"We're getting very close," she admitted, "but we're still some way from..."

"Establishing an exclusive relationship?"

"Er, yes."

"I'll be honest," Heather said slowly. "I want to sleep with her."

Jane was shocked. She was silent so long that Heather spoke again. "Jan?"

"I'm here..."

"Are you upset?"

"No,... Why should I be?"

"I'm coming over; I'm very sorry, that was crude of me!"

"Well, it was certainly honest."

"I'll be right over!"

She was as good as her word. She rode over on a motorbike in less than five minutes. Jane went to the door, and Heather hurried her inside, made her sit, and knelt at her feet.

"What shall I do?"

Jane frowned in puzzlement. "Do?"

"I want to make love to her, to woo her, to sweep her off her feet!"

"And you want my permission?"

Heather nodded.

Jan was a curious mix of strength and fragility. Heather had been certain that if she couldn't have Deanna she would go mad. But seeing Jan, without distraction from Deanna's voluptuous beauty, she realized how little she knew about either girl. Having declared her passion for Deanna to Jan, it was against Heather's principles to back off and confess a passion for Jan; it would look like dithering.

In her turn, Jane was as deeply affected; she felt an alarming desire to have Heather in her bed. Her heart sank; she had promised herself that she would not allow the porn industry to make a monster out of her, and it seemed to be happening despite her determination.

"Heather," she said softly, caressing the distraught girl's face in a sisterly way, "I've been told to shoot a lesbian sequence for Jay. Before you lay your heart on the line, why don't we..."

Heather shrank away.

"Jesus, Jan, that's disgusting!"

"Why?"

"I don't want to make her a spectacle!"

"Heather, she's a nude model! At least, if you two let me shoot you, it will be— _honest!_ "

It took a great deal of talking, but Heather agreed that it was a good experiment. Jane showed her what was out there on the Internet, and they deplored it together. Heather hated the poorer so-called lesbian sequences more than even Deanna and Jane herself. She cursed them; to her, it was a greater sin to portray love and passion between girls in such an artificial way than it was to portray artificial cross-gender intercourse, which she hated to begin with. There was practically no depiction of hardcore straight sex that satisfied either of them. It was either posed and artificial, or the models had so little grace that it was worthless to begin with.

They had to keep themselves occupied until Deanna showed up, without giving in to the urges they both felt. Jane could not in good conscience give Heather a roll, since the way she had been brought up, one just didn't sleep with different partners on successive nights. Heather felt similarly: Deanna would not view her with favor if she dallied with Jane. So they played a sequence of board games, and talked about Deanna in between. By the time Deanna was dropped back off by the limousine, Heather thought she was thoroughly in love with Deanna.

"Oh! Hi again!" said Deanna, looking tired but still glowing. The halter-style gown made the best of her full breasts and wonderful complexion.

"Are you very tired?" Jane asked her, lightly holding her hand.

"No, why? What are you two planning?"

"Let me talk to her!" asked Heather, her voice rough.

"No, let me, please," asked Jane. Heather stepped out into the hallway.

"Heather would like to shoot the lesbian scene with you!"

Deanna's lips rounded into an 'o', and her eyes grew wide. "That would be awesome!"

Something hurt inside Jane's heart, and Deanna seemed to know instantly. "You don't want it, do you!"

Jane could not control her face. "In one sense, I feel jealous... in another sense, she really likes you, and you obviously like her..."

"Just a little—okay, _a lot_..."

"And I'd rather shoot something that's real than something fake."

"I'd like to do it. Afterwards—I'll make it up to you!"

"You may not get the chance; I think she's falling for you."

Deanna searched Jane's eyes. It was hard to believe that plain brown eyes could be so incredibly beautiful.

Jane shook her head. She had to get her head straight, if they were going to shoot tonight. It was good that Deanna was tired and Heather was relatively fresh.

Jane took out a high-shutter-speed camera that she had never used before; this was a perfect time to break it in. It was loaded with high-speed film, and they would record the sound, too, just in case it was useful.

Deanna sat on the sofa in a new gown. The light was moderately low, and her hair shone, and there was a look of expectation on her face. Heather approached her, and raised her to her feet. Music was playing, and they began to dance, and Deanna looked into Heather's eyes, and it suddenly became real.

They began to undress each other, and to make love. Heather lay full on Deanna, kissing her, touching her, then, spreading her legs, she made love to her as women do, using everything she had. Deanna simply melted under her hands, crying out in rapture, begging for more.

And she got more. Heather asked Jane to cut, and they proceeded to another level of sex, things that, as amateurs, Jane and Deanna only knew second-hand. Two hours later, Deanna still wanted more, and Heather was ready to give it. Jane was practically asleep on her feet, but she was a perfectionist, and she concentrated on getting the film exposed correctly.

Deanna and Heather went to bed together, and the house settled down for the night, as Jane turned out the lights, turned down the heat, and went to bed. Waking early, she slipped into Deanna's room, and took some shots of the sleeping couple in the soft early morning light.

Heather was awkward in the morning; she wanted to be alone with Deanna, Deanna wanted to be alone with Jane, and Jane tried not to think of being alone with anybody. Jane was still in the black body-stocking she had worn for the shooting, and as she cooked, Heather and Deanna could hardly avoid watching her.

_Isn't she beautiful?_ Deanna's eyes asked Heather. Heather's eyes agreed. Jane served them, and seeing a glint in each girl's eye, looked at them with an uncertain smile. Deanna got up from her seat, and holding Jane gently in her arms, touched her lips to the corner of Jane's mouth.

"What's that for?"

Heather stood suddenly, walked over and kissed Jane hard. Then she kissed Deanna, and abruptly left the house.

"Why? What happened?"

Deanna looked miserable. She hung her head and covered her eyes with her hands. "It must be me," she said.

"I have her phone number," Jane said. She called, and was surprised to have the call answered at once.

"Why did you run away? Please come back! Where are you?"

"Just outside the house... on the steps."

"She's on the steps," Jane said to Deanna, who ran off to the front door. Presently Deanna returned with Heather in tow. Heather looked tired and upset.

"You obviously love Jan like crazy," Heather said to Deanna. "I was a fool to come between you two!"

While Jane tried to think of a suitable reply, Deanna slowly held Heather's face and pulled it down to look into her eyes.

"Did you want me to fall in love with you?"

"I was hoping—yes," Heather admitted, getting red in the face.

Deanna sighed.

"Jane and I... we're just beginning to happen, Heather; but last night: I meant everything I did! Do you believe me?"

"If you say so, yes."

Nothing Deanna could say would make Heather feel any better. Jane knew that the two girls could be very happy together; Heather was the perfect foil for Deanna. But it was Jane herself who was spoiling it for them.

Jane developed the film herself, and Deanna stood by to help. An instinctive teacher, Jane explained everything to Deanna as they went along, immersing in this tank, rinsing in that, storing the liquid in the other. Late in the afternoon, they scanned the negatives into Jane's computer, and began to look at the images.

What struck them both was that the image quality was far superior to what was commonly seen on the Internet. "Nobody wastes this kind of equipment on porn," Jane said quietly. "It's for sports." And secondly, Heather was a stunner.

Jane knew Heather was a stunner in the nude; what was new was that she was an incredibly graceful lover. The way she bent over Deanna, the look in her eyes, the curve of her body, all spoke volumes. Nobody could resist the romance in it. The girls devoured it with their eyes, utterly convinced that the sequences would drive anybody out of their mind with excitement.

Excitedly, Jane called Jay over.

"I did it! You should see this footage!"

"What? Who?"

"It's Deanna and Heather!"

"Calm yourself! Listen, kid, don't get too excited. It's your first effort; it's experience. I'll be over in a bit."

It was nearly dark when he arrived. And he didn't like the film. He took it with him, but he was certain that nobody would want it. Jan was dismayed, and Deanna was angry. The moment Jay left, she exploded.

"That—that _man_ was your lover?"

"A long time ago," Jane said quietly.

"How _could_ you _stand_ him? Overbearing, opinionated, impatient, insensitive... I was _right here,_ and he talks as if I'm invisible!" Deanna was deeply hurt—as was Jane, for different reasons. Deanna felt as if her honest emotions were being belittled, and Jane was angry because a _man_ was making a judgment about something that had nothing to do with men.

CHAPTER THREE

# Love

## Stephanie Johnson

Bored and frustrated, Jane and Deanna went out the next day. They had called Heather, but Heather had made an excuse. They had loafed about, trying to stay out of the way of frenzied holiday shoppers. All around them, the music of the holidays filled the air; some of it appallingly badly performed, some of it so beautiful that it made Jane cry. She saw Deanna, too, clearly moved.

"Where are you going for the holidays?" she asked, half afraid that she might hurt Deanna by the very question.

"I'm Jewish," she said, "and anyway, I'm kind of an outcast at home. So—nowhere."

"You're staying with me, then," Jane said quickly. "I can't go home, either."

Deanna had bought Jane a sexy outfit she wanted her to wear, and Jane bought Deanna one, and they both bought something for Heather; as contrary as she was, they both were very fond of the courteous, hypersensitive girl.

Then, as they passed by an electronics outlet, Jane was riveted by clip of a diver. She was a vision of beauty, physically perfect, with perfect facial features, and the unique grace that divers must have. Jane and Deanna watched the clip over and over again.

"Stephanie Johnson!"

"I've heard about her. Olympic gold."

"Really?"

"Yup. She's a dyke, too."

"How do you know?"

"Well, her girlfriend is supposed to have gone crazy when she married."

"Well, then, she isn't a dyke, as you call her!"

"Oh yes, she is; she's kinda bisexual, but apparently she sleeps with a woman every night."

"I bet it's just rumors," Jane insisted.

Deanna was getting impatient with the topic, so she let it pass. Jane loved to be with Deanna, but it did have its drawbacks.

—:—

## Dancing

Later that night, they dressed in their new clothes and went dancing. Jane had bought Deanna a blood-red velvet backless dress; Deanna had bought her an interesting outfit consisting of a monokini that covered her from neck to toes in black, and a brief black tight skirt. Deanna had said that she thought Jane's figure was perfect, and that she had perfect hips for a little skirt. It turned out she was right; it was a warm evening, and they set out in their new clothes, with no coverups at all, and their things in little purses they slung on their backs, a silly little craze that was current. Jane wore her heels, and going into the dance clubs where it was less crowded, the music was actually musical, and the women nicely dressed, they danced.

In the slow dances, Jane led, and Deanna gazed up into her eyes, and they felt themselves become more and more closely wrapped up in each other.

"If you knew this was going to happen, would you have agreed to shoot me?"

"Yes!"

"You're an incredible dancer!"

"I am?" Jane blushed. They kissed, and around them there was a soft murmur of approval. Apparently same sex couples were not in such bad odor as the news said they were.

Unexpectedly, they were interrupted by a couple. "My partner would like to dance with you," said a gorgeous redhead to Deanna, and Jane found herself waltzing with the redhead.

"You're lovely," said the redhead to Jane, smiling. The woman looked about thirty, and luscious, if not in the same way as Deanna. "Are you a model?"

"No, only a photographer," Jane said, laughing.

"Really? What a stroke of luck! My partner and I were looking for someone like you... if you would give me your number, I could call you?"

"Certainly," said Jane pleasantly. The next dance was slow, and though at first they dance decorously, inevitably the redhead ended up with her head on Jane's breast.

"You're very patient," she said, looking into Jane's eyes, her own eyes shining.

Jane shrugged and smiled, holding her close, but letting her take the lead in level of intimacy. "I don't mind; guys take greater liberties than most girls!"

The woman made a non-committal sound, and they continued to dance, until they wound up next to Deanna and the other woman. Though she was trying hard to be civilized, it was clear that the woman found Deanna attractive. They said something to each other and laughed, and the woman smiled and nodded to Jane, and changing partners, they floated apart.

"Did you enjoy your dance?" asked Deanna, flirtatiously.

"Apparently not as much as you did!"

Deanna smiled. "She wasn't too bad; kind of sweet, actually. She's really tall, Jan!"

Jane smiled ruefully. Her own five-foot-seven was not what you could call tall.

Suddenly, across the dance floor, Jane saw her German model, Ann.

"Come on!" she said to Deanna, "let's get out of here!"

"Why?" asked Deanna once they were outside.

Suddenly they were no longer alone; Ann was standing next to them, looking at Jane hungrily.

Ann had come with a young man, and Jane and Deanna danced with the two of them off and on for a while, until Deanna was tired, and they took their leave of Ann and Luke, her companion.

"May I see you again?" Ann asked, boldly.

"Ann, Deanna and I are together," Jane said softly but firmly.

"It's all right," said Deanna in Jane's ear.

"She doesn't seem to mind!" said Ann, and Luke chuckled at her wit. "I will call, Jane, don't worry." She leaned forward and kissed Jane yet again, and disappeared with Luke into the club.

Jane was frustrated. "It's as if I have no control over my life anymore!"

"Let's go home," urged Deanna.

They made love that night. They had been together a couple of weeks, but it was only the third time they had made love, yet it was as if they had made love for ever. Deanna watched, in wonder, as Jane became more passionate. Her very passion excited Deanna; now she mounted Deanna and forced her sex onto Deanna's soft pubic mound, as if she were a man. Repeatedly she thrust, and Deanna found herself responding, thrusting back. Jane crouched over her, and lowered her lips to Deanna's breast, sucking insistently, caressing, squeezing Deanna's buttocks, until Deanna moaned, her body twisting in an agony of pleasure.

Afterwards, Jane was infinitely tender. Deanna watched her with wide eyes, and Jane knew what was going on in her mind. "No," she whispered, "I won't ever leave you all alone! I promise!"

—:—

## Ann

Ann turned up a few days later. She was curious about Jane's masquerade as a boy. She claimed never to have been fooled. "I knew you at once," she declared, "you are such a girl! _Ein Mädchen!_ "

"What does that mean? A virgin?"

Ann shrugged. "Kind of one, yes; un-awoken!"

Jane gave her a sardonic look. "I am, too, awoken, hah!" she said, a little testily. "I'm not a slut, but I've had sex, if that's what you mean!" She felt silly to dispute such things with Ann, but she couldn't seem to help it.

Ann wore shorts and a mesh T shirt, and now she climbed on Jane's lap.

"Kiss me," she said.

Jane would have kissed her, but Deanna was watching, and she felt she was being trifled with.

"I don't think so," she said coolly.

"Your girlfriend wants to watch! Kiss me!"

"Go on," said Deanna, smiling, "do whatever she wants, Jane; what harm is it?"

"I'm learning that you and I are very different, Deanna; _you_ kiss her, if you want to!"

"Are you sure?" Ann asked. Jane nodded, suddenly feeling out of her depth.

Ann went over to Deanna.

At first they only kissed, but gradually it became more intense, until Jane could hardly stand it. She could not tear herself away, she _had_ to watch. She watched as Ann made Deanna come, and then turned to Jane, saying "Now your turn!"

"You're wrong," said Jane, peeling off her T-Shirt, "it's _your_ turn!"

Ann laughed, but Jane was serious. Never smiling, she made love to Ann, not caring if she was rough. Ann felt good; her body invited touch. Jane only wanted Ann to abandon herself to desire, to see Ann out of control. It took all her strength, but she did it. Ann lay stretched out on the living-room rug, with Jane's hand inside her, her legs flung wide, moaning. Deanna watched Jane with admiration; clearly she had resented Ann's bid to dominate them both. Ann held onto Jane's hand with a vice-like grip, not permitting her to move it. Her face reached for Jane, her mouth hungry for Jane's kiss, but Jane held her away. Jane regarded her body with admiration; the girl had an incredibly beautiful body.

Eventually, Ann's vagina let go of Jane's hand, and she drew it out, dripping with moisture, which Ann pulled against her breasts, rubbing it all over them.

"You made me a slut," Ann said softly.

Jane laughed. Ann did not seem to understand the language very well. Nevertheless, Ann was acknowledging that Jane had some power over her.

"Are you all okay?"

"A little," Ann admitted. "I will remember this!"

"Leave us alone, okay?"

"No," said Ann, "I cannot!"

It was the week of Christmas. Deanna had been subdued for a few days, and as much as she wanted to know what was causing it, Jane left Deanna alone. Deanna had learned that Jane preferred to sleep alone, and in any case they found that sex between them happened spontaneously. _If I slept with her every night,_ Deanna told herself, _it will become routine._ They were loving towards each other, and neither could mistake how the other felt about her. It wasn't that, at any rate, that bothered Deanna. Was it Ann? Was it just the holiday blues?

Jane remembered what a rich, complex feast Christmas had been in her family. It would be only the second Christmas she had exiled herself from home, and she missed the million little things they did together. She had a modest stereo system now, and played carols while she and Deanna cleaned, and Deanna wrote in her diary, and Jane painted.

Deanna often watched while she painted, but she didn't have the patience to watch for very long. She admired the finished paintings; especially the nudes. Jane had not showed her the painting she had done of Deanna herself. That revealed a little too much of her feelings for Deanna, and she wasn't quite ready for that.

—:—

## Holidays

Deanna arrived back in the house on the Thursday before Christmas—which would be on Monday—and came upstairs to look for Jane.

"That was the last bit of work until after New Years," she said, looking exhausted. "We flew down to Texas, and it was a hassle getting to the place." Deanna was in demand for certain exotic kinds of soft porn, and it was often quite high-budget.

Jane cleaned her brushes, and got up, determined to give Deanna some attention. "Come on, let's have some tea, and then we'll plan for Christmas, or Hanukkah, or whatever you'd like to do!"

Deanna impulsively gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and said she was sweet. "I'm not feeling particularly Jewish," she said, smiling, "let's celebrate just like a department store!"

Jane tried not to show how appalled she was.

"A tree? We could start our own traditions, Dee; then next year it will be even more fun!"

"You want me here for Christmas next year, too?"

"Yes, if you don't mind?"

"Are you so sure we'll be friends that long?"

Deanna had meant to be silly, but the look on Jane's face was so stricken that she regretted it at once.

"Let's try and stay together just for one year," Jane said, squeezing her arm. "You cheer me up so much; if I hurt you enough for you to want to leave, I'll never forgive myself!"

The weather was warm and dry, and the street managed to be quite cheery and festive with lights and menorahs in windows, as well as gaily-decorated and lit Christmas trees. They set out together, not in their sexy evening clothes, but in jeans and sweaters, and Deanna even wore a festive knitted cap. They got just a few decorations, a little cut Christmas tree and a stand for it, a string or two of lights, and returned home.

"The trick is to do things, not so much to have a house full of stuff," Jane said.

Between the two of them, they remembered enough to be able to find lots of things to do. They put up the decorations on the tree, a little wreath on the front door, and a few other odds and ends in the house, which was all that it needed to give the place a holiday touch.

Ann showed up the next evening, dressed nicely, with gifts for both of them. She had visited twice now, since that strange day when they had wrestled sexually; she was devoted to Jane and Deanna.

Deanna had always found the girl attractive, and Jane was kind to her, evidently choosing to forgive and forget her crude behavior.

"Will you be here for Christmas?"

"No, I'm flying home later tonight."

"But won't it be very late when you get there?"

"It will be morning already," she laughed. They talked a little longer, with Ann being as loose and cheery as she had ever been, and then she left, hugging each girl and kissing her.

They wondered what Zsuszana and Isabella were doing for Christmas, or at least Jane did. The girls had become Jane's friends, and all that kept her from calling them was the fact that she had to be professional with them, and more importantly, that they knew her as a boy.

Deanna watched the Christmas specials on TV, while Jane cooked or painted or read. It was simply not as much fun without Jane seated by her side to make comments and laugh with her, but Jane hated watching TV. Every time there was a commercial break, Deanna could not resist checking in on Jane.

Jane was reading a book that she had first taken up to read ten years earlier, when she hadn't been influenced by what her few friends read. They had hardly been friends, anyway, and they hardly read, so Jane had gone to the town library and found _Little Women_ , by Louisa Alcott. She had liked it then, and she remembered liking it when she saw it in a grocery store display, priced at a mere $5. "What is that about?" Deanna had wanted to know.

"It's sort of a classic, though it isn't really read much any more; a young-adult story set during the Civil War, in Massachusetts, about a family of four girls." Jane was amused at first, but saddened to see Deanna lose interest at once. Now she heard Deanna's step on the stairs, and knew it was commercial time.

"How is it going?" Deanna asked, sitting on the coffee table. She wore brightly-striped leg-warmers, because they had agreed to keep the house heat setting low. Deanna had a bad cough, which the heating aggravated.

"You should read this, Dee," Jane said, noting Dee's amusement at her enthusiasm. "I had forgotten it's really a Christmas story! It's several Christmas stories rolled into one, actually."

"I'm Jewish, remember?"

Jane was acutely embarrassed, and Deanna laughed and threw her arms about her to comfort her.

Jane loved Deanna's affectionate nature. How could she have stood it all alone these years? Jane had survived by withdrawing somewhat into herself, but her family's deep religiousness had imbued in Jane the principle that yes, God wanted Jane to be happy, but that Jane was the instrument with which God made others happy, too. Jane gave to charity as much as she could stand, as a result, but more importantly, it was that frame of mind that enabled her to survive two years cut off from any kind of family. Jay came from a broken home, and Jane had never met either of his parents.

It had been a while since Jane had actually believed in religion, but something in her gave thanks to something out there, that Deanna was with her this holidays.

"Little Women! Listen, Jan, they've made a movie of it; it's showing on channel 13 tonight at ten, and again tomorrow night at ten! It has Elizabeth Taylor in it, did you know?"

"No, I didn't... are you sure?"

But Deanna had scooted off, back to the TV.

Sure enough, Deanna was right; it was Little Women, and it certainly did star a rather young Elizabeth Taylor, and the two of them watched it until midnight.

Deanna crawled onto Jane's lap, and turned her enormous eyes on her. She was a good 120 pounds of girl, but Jane loved her dearly; it was the thought that their passion would burn itself out if it kept up at this intensity that made her try to cool down their relationship. But Deanna had something on her mind.

"I want you to know that I appreciate what you're doing for me," she said softly.

"I'm doing it for me, too," Jane said, candidly.

"Maybe that's what love is about," Deanna said.

"You know I love you; I've never made a secret of it."

Deanna slowly rested her cheek on Jane's breast. Jane wriggled her fingers into Deanna's soft hair.

"If we just remain friends," Deanna said, just above a whisper, "we will always be friends..." Jane made a soft sound of assent. "But, if we become _more_ than that..."

Jane heaved a heavy sigh; Deanna had stumbled on the same fear that had struck Jane weeks ago. They were in a dangerous business, where temptation could stroll in any day. So far it had been a miracle, that despite each of them being attracted to several other girls—not just pretty girls, but girls with character and depth—they had managed to keep their relationship intact.

They made love then. Deanna needed it, to be comforted, and so did Jane. But every time they had sex, it seemed to Jane that it was one less time they could use sex to bind themselves to each other. Eventually it would count for nothing, and once it started to break apart, no amount of fucking each other would save them.

"Do you _like_ fucking me?" Deanna asked.

"Very much," Jane whispered.

"I love you!" Deanna kissed her, and her eyes were shining. "Sometimes I want you so much, I could eat you!"

Jane was overwhelmed. Sometimes the things Deanna said made her heart stop. She wanted to say that it made her humble to be loved like that, but it sounded egocentric. On the other hand, _Jane_ had always felt that way, that Deanna looked delicious enough to eat. But now she couldn't say it; it would sound like 'Me, too.' Jane simply pulled her close, and held her tight, but Dee pulled away, to look into her eyes.

"I want this to be the best Christmas you've ever had!" she whispered.

They had really outdone themselves; Jane's sweater was tossed over the back of the sofa, and her jeans were on the floor. Her stomach and legs were slick with what came out of Deanna; and Deanna's torso, and even her breasts were all coated with the same pungent-smelling stuff. It seemed as if each time they had sex, they got more of it on themselves.

"Let's take a bath together!" Deanna suggested, and Jane nodded agreement, smiling. A little excess at Christmas could hardly be avoided.

Whatever Deanna expected, their shower together was a quiet, tender, loving thing. She had expected that they would make love, but instead they soaped each other with sensuous lotion soap, rinsed each other off, and spent a lot of time kissing. Kissing under a warm shower was utterly sensuous and satisfying.

It was Christmas Eve, and Jane told Deanna that the little Christ Child would come in the night, and leave presents at the foot of each bed.

"I thought it was Santa Claus, and it was under the tree! What's that all about?"

Jane let out a long breath and smiled, and began to explain.

"Saint Nicholas was a Bishop from the middle ages, and the legend was that he distributed gifts to children, and does it even today. But I—my family is descended from German immigrants," she said, "and we tell the children that it's Baby Jesus who distributes the presents."

"Santa Claus, or Saint Nicholas sounds marginally more plausible," Deanna said cautiously. Jane laughed, which made Deanna smile; Jane had a low contralto, and her low giggle was distinctive, but still merry.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, and Deanna stumbled out of the tub with a curse.

"Don't slip," Jane cautioned; "I'll go get it, you get dressed. Who can it be?"

—:—

## A Motorbike

It was Heather. Jane stood shivering just inside the door in her terry robe; the temperature had dropped precipitously since sundown, and there was a brisk breeze that made it even harder to be outdoors. Heather was bareheaded, and smelled strongly of alcohol. Outside stood her motorbike, and Jane thought it was better to bring it inside.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late," Heather said, slurring over the words. She still stood outside, beginning to shiver a little. "I'll get the bike now..."

Tremendously strong though Heather was, in her present state, she couldn't manage the bike. The puddles on the street had iced up, and the bike slipped and fell on its side, trapping Heather's leg under it. Jane ran down the steps in her bare feet, and stopping the wheels with her foot, tried to pull the bike up. Deanna appeared at the door, and ran down to help. She, at least, wore sneakers.

It took a while to get the bike upright, and make sure Heather was not badly hurt. "It fell slowly, so I-I'm n-not crushed," she managed. It was difficult to get the bike up the steps, but they managed it, and locked the door, and hurried Heather to the kitchen.

"What possessed you, to ride out here in such weather?" scolded Deanna.

"I w-wanted to make sure you guys were okay," Heather said, shamefaced.

"You could have called!"

"T-then you would have said not to come!"

Jane looked closely at Heather.

"Heather, are you really all right? Your speech is kind of slurred..."

"I j-just h-had a f-few d-drinks b-before I c-came, I wasn't sure you had anything to drink here," explained Heather.

After Heather had been warmed up, the story emerged: it seemed that Heather supported a sick aunt in a nursing home, and while bringing her to Heather's apartment by taxi, for the holidays, the taxi had skidded out of control on a ramp, but nobody had been hurt. But Heather's aunt had had a stroke minutes after they had got home, and died on the way to the hospital.

As the girls regarded Heather aghast, two big tears rolled down her cheeks, and soon she was sobbing quietly. Deanna exchanged a quick glance with Jane, and crept up to Heather, put her arms around her, and began to comfort her with soft words.

"She was old, about ninety," said Heather, trying to stop weeping. "But she was a great old girl, and... she was my favorite," she added.

Making sure that Heather wasn't really expected anywhere for the night, they decided that the three of them should sleep together in the largest bed, which was Jane's full-sized bed. Deanna poked fun at it, saying that nobody ever bought full-sized beds anymore; Queen-sized was the norm. But there was enough room for the three of them, once they had undressed Heather and put a simple cotton nightie on her.

Jane was against the wall, and she made as much room for the others as she could. Heather was in the middle, with Deanna on the outside, who had first tucked Heather in as well as she could before she climbed in with them. Heather responded to Deanna's soft murmur of words of comfort; Jane was struck dumb with misery. She could just imagine the situation: Heather's plans to celebrate the holidays with her favorite relative, who dies before Heather's very eyes.

It was awkward to have Heather in bed with her, even with Deanna there. She had learned of Heather's lust for her with some misgiving; why, oh why must women who preferred other women have such complex desires? She herself, having discovered an attraction for Deanna, was finding it hard to keep her eyes and feelings from lusting after other girls. She could barely accept that she had forced sex on Ann the other night. Her own instincts frightened her, and she feared that Heather might destroy the joy she was beginning to feel this season.

But Deanna stroked Heather, who turned to her, and they kissed and cuddled until Heather fell asleep. Jane slept shortly after, but woke up with her face pressed into Heather's neck. Heather smelled different from Deanna, and it had woken her up. But she dared not move away, for fear of awaking Heather.

The next time Jane woke, she realized that she had been making love to Heather in her sleep. Her hand lay on Heather's breast, through the large arm opening, and Jane's crotch was pressed against Heather's outflung leg. Luckily, Heather was fast asleep.

Now it was time to slip out of bed, and put Deanna's present at the foot of the bed. But what could she do for poor Heather?

With great caution, Jane slipped out from under the covers, and crept to the foot of the bed, and out of the room. The house was unbearably cold; Deanna had set the temperature to 50° as planned, where Jane had decided to set it a bit higher, anticipating having to go around in the wee hours, helping the Christ Child do his good work.

Presently, all wrapped-up in blankets and carpet slippers, she stumbled on the idea of painting a nude study of Heather she could actually hang, as art. It was something she could do well, and Heather was a genuine beauty. Or a pastel; that would be quicker.

Working from two of the better shots of Heather—there was hardly a poor one in the lot—Jane did a study that made her hold her breath. Heather's grey eyes shone with both intelligence and serenity, her perfect body reclined in a characteristic pose on the handsome rug, with her chin resting on one knee. The sole of her foot was beautiful, as was the line of her shoulder...

"What are you doing?"

Jane sighed. Deanna had come looking for her. She simply stood back, so Deanna could see. Deanna gasped, putting her arm around Jane. Jane tried not to think about how much pleasure Deanna's touch gave her.

"You're going to put it at the foot of the bed, aren't you?"

"You mean the Christ Child will!"

Deanna looked up at Jane, her eyes shining.

"I'm glad we were here, to look after Heather, Jan."

Jane began to look for a mat for the drawing. Together, under Jane's direction, they mounted the piece, and placed it in a hardboard protector, and wrapped it for a present. Deanna wanted to be the one who set it out for Heather, and Jane smilingly let her. While she was gone, Jane picked up the present she had wrapped for Deanna, and followed her back to the bedroom, where Heather was spread out all over the bed. Deanna was trying to find room for herself, and Jane took the opportunity to place her present without being noticed, then pulled off her wraps, and crawled over the covers, over Heather's outflung leg, to her corner of the bed. Deanna had no room at all, and was slipping off the mattress. Jane sighed, and gently drew Heather towards her, and found herself in Heather's determined embrace. Deanna gratefully settled in, and was asleep in short order. Jane lay awake, unhappy with herself for so enjoying Heather's touch, which became more amorous in the early morning.

Heather was thoroughly sick with a hangover in the morning, and Deanna ended up nursing her. Once she had emptied her stomach, she sobered up, and was a perfect lady, as always. She was quiet, understandably, but the other girls were cheerful, cooking breakfast for her, while her clothes were put through the washer and dryer. Jane had been horrified by the bruises Heather had sustained, both in the accident, and in the fall outside. Deanna rubbed ointment on the worst of them, and Heather had accepted it quietly, her great grey eyes full of tears.

Jane put on some music, as she prepared the table, and Heather suddenly looked confused.

"It's Christmas," she said.

"And you know what? Baby Jesus has a present for you!"

"What?"

Deanna shrugged, looking at Jane mischievously. "It's one of Jan's Pennsylvania Dutch things," she explained vaguely. "Come on upstairs, I'll show you!"

Jane followed, and was quite satisfied with Heather's response to her gift. Deanna pounced on her own gift with an exclamation, and gave Jane a big hug of thanks. "Now _you_ look under the tree, you!"

Sure enough, there was a little package tucked under the tree, from Santa to Little Jane. Neither gift was either as dramatic, nor as unexpected as Heather's; the girls had decided that it was silly to give great expensive surprise presents. If one of them needed something badly, they decided, they'd talk about it, and buy it together. Heather, though, was overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness of her hosts. She stared at her pastel, as if it was some other beauty represented there, and not herself. Jane felt bad that Heather's gratitude focused on her, but there simply had been no time to plan a gift that the girls could give her jointly. Heather closed the protector, and wiped her eyes.

"Will you stay for a few more days?" Deanna asked her, smiling.

"I don't know; I've been too much trouble to you both," said Heather, her suave manners gone.

"No, you haven't," said Jane quietly. "Please stay!"

Heather threw out her arms in frustration. "What can I do? I don't have anything to contribute!"

It was true; Heather was like a tiger in a cage; she needed to have something to do, or she became anxious. Jane was grateful when Heather discovered the weight-training system in the basement, and asked whether she could use it. Evidently she took her training seriously, she was occupied for hours, setting up each exercise just right, and working out to exhaustion. Meanwhile, Jane and Deanna relaxed, and began to cook Christmas Lunch.

Intelligent as she was, Heather had always despised in herself the tendency to get quickly bored. And she was smart enough to see the intelligence of the two girls upstairs, and was doubly anxious not to be seen at an intellectual disadvantage in front of them. While she was setting up each piece of equipment for herself—it was an inexpensive apparatus, but one of great flexibility and usefulness—she was totally absorbed. Jane had kept the user manual nearby, in her systematic way, and Heather read it carefully. Once she was on the machine, her mind wandered, anxious about how she appeared to the other girls. She was drawn to each of them strongly; she had fantasized about being in bed with each of them separately, and together, too. The fact that each girl had, at some time during the night, embraced her closely, was plain by the stains on her body; but she knew it happened sometimes; it excited her, but she knew better than to make assumptions based on that. And now, she feared to make a move on either girl, for fear of hurting their obviously fragile, but somehow promising relationship to each other. But it seemed as if her destiny lay with one or the other of them; she could no more think of leaving the house and the two wonderful girls than she could think of leaving the sun and living in the dark. It had been only a couple of days ago she had watched them from afar, walking about, getting their supplies, hungering for their company.

The glorious odor of cooking finally found its way downstairs. Gingerbread! One of them was making gingerbread; Heather could barely concentrate on her workout, but she stayed with it. "Keep something for me to help you with," she called out, in between pushes. She heard a faint "Okay!"

Jane helped Deanna and Heather make the gingerbread house, taking pictures of them, telling them how it was done. Heather could not focus as hard as she normally would have on the job; Jan was driving her distracted. The two girls affected her in different ways, but Deanna's sisterly attitude towards her somewhat neutralized the desire she felt for her. Jane, quietly snapping away, was maddening.

"Stop that, and come and talk to us," said Heather calmly.

"I want a record of how it went!" laughed Jan. Heather loved her laugh.

"Just a few shots is all you need; who wants to see a hundred shots of a gingerbread house?"

"Yeah, come on, relax, Jan. Man, it smells great..."

"We can't eat it! We could eat the bits a pieces left over," said Heather, alarmed.

"Of course we eat it!" said Jan, surprised. "That's the point!"

Eventually, the meal was ready, and they changed into their holiday clothes. Between Jane and Deanna, they managed to find a skirt and a sweater to fit Heather. She looked strange, dressed as a girl, but she noticed at once how much more admiring their glances were. As much as she hated being ogled by men, she realized that she enjoyed wearing a brief skirt for these girls.

It was a wonderful meal, made all the more enjoyable for the company, and the effort it had taken. Heather looked a dream, in Deanna's lambswool sweater, and with a touch of lipstick and eyeshadow. They talked about how much they'd like to take some food out to a poor family, and Heather racked her brains to think of what organization could arrange such a thing. There was no talk of sex, something Heather found strange considering the company. But, she thought, these two are lovers, by now; they don't need to _talk_ about sex. If she hadn't been there, they would probably have made love all night.

Normally, Heather would have watched basketball on TV, but there was no chance of that in _this_ house.

"That's a wonderful machine you have down there," Heather said, once Deanna had served the dessert pie.

"Uh huh," Jane said, "I don't think I make full use of it; I only do a few exercises."

"Do you know about those kinds of things?" Deanna asked, eagerly, "I'd like to get started on it, since it's here."

Jane looked quickly at Heather. "Won't that make her lose her looks? I mean, if she lost any fat, she'd look very different!"

"But I want to tone my stomach muscles, and look, I'm putting on weight on my hips, Jan!"

"You should swim," said Jane earnestly. "Swimming is perfect for your build. Right, Heather?"

Heather was relieved to find a topic on which she could speak moderately knowledgeably. She endorsed Jane's prescription, but suggested a few things even Deanna could do on the machine. Now there was something they could do after the meal, once they had given it a fair chance to get digested.

—:—

## Christmas Day

Christmas day itself was spent with some decorum, with Heather showing the girls the details of how the machine worked, late in the evening, when their festive mid-day meal would not interfere with using it. Once Deanna had learned the few exercises that would do what she needed, without hardening the soft physique that was so much a part of her professional equipment, Heather focused on Jane. Each of them could see how Heather's attraction to Jane grew, even as they watched. Jane could do nothing about it, without embarrassing them all; in fact she was feeling attracted to the handsome visitor herself. Deanna thought it was wonderful; she saw sex as not something destructive, but something wholesome and good, to be indulged in to strengthen affection and admiration between people; and there was no doubt that Heather and Jane were deeply fond of each other, and admired each other enormously. She never for a moment considered that Heather was a threat to her.

Heather hoped that Deanna would give her a moment alone with Jane, but Deanna was as fascinated with watching Jane work out as Heather was. Not as strong as Heather, nor as tall, nor as well-muscled, except in her strong buttocks, Jane's beauty sneaked up on one and hit one unawares. Her eyes were not as large as Heather's, but her eyes drew both Deanna and Heather like magnets, as did her breasts, all of her.

"Will you let me fuck you tonight?" Heather asked Jane softly.

Jane was far from surprised, but she was shocked all the same. She took a deep breath.

"Heather... with Deanna also here..."

"I don't mind," said Deanna, at once.

Jane looked into Heather's eyes, her own brown eyes troubled.

"Heather, I'm a boring fuck; ask Deanna! Why, why do you want this?"

"Don't believe her; she's an animal," contributed Deanna.

"Deanna, give us a couple of minutes," begged Heather. Deanna groaned, and ran upstairs.

Heather took Jane's hand, breathing hard.

"Please!"

"Why? What do I have? What could interest a model like you, to want to have someone like me?"

"I thought you wanted me once, and I could make you want me again!"

Jane was silent a long time, as Heather played with her hand. When she spoke, it was in almost a whisper.

"I think Deanna and I could be happy together, my friend... I'm afraid this could destroy us!"

"Couldn't you be happy with me?"

"Of course I could, Heather! But look at you; you're a beauty... You could have anyone you want!"

Heather was feeling worse and worse with every word Jane said.

"One time! One night!"

Jane caved in. "If you're disappointed, you must promise that we'll just be friends, and won't lust after each other again!"

"I promise!"

"Help me up, Heather," she said, and got to her feet, feeling a little chilled.

"What did you decide?" Deanna wanted to know, beginning to feel a little worried.

"I said yes," said Jane, feeling wretched.

"I want to watch," said Deanna, wide-eyed.

Jane looked at her in dismay. "That's disgusting! Why?"

"You know I might lose you to her! Isn't it fair that I should see it, at least?"

"I—I'm not—I've never had sex in public, Dee, like you have; I'm not a model!"

"You have, too, remember, with Ann?"

Jane was subdued for the rest of the day, until it was bedtime. Heather tried to be as charming and as sweet as possible, but Jane's smile was only for Deanna, and Heather felt much like someone about to break up a family. Finally, it was bedtime; and Jane insisted that the big encounter should take place on the living-room floor, on the rug. Deanna could watch from the sofa. They laid blankets over the rug, and there were more blankets for when it was over, and pillows, and vaginal jelly, and a strap-on dildo. Heather wanted some light, so there was soft light.

Heather reclined by Jane, already quite naked. Jane wore a silk wrap, and that was all; she could not bring herself to tease Heather with a lot of clothing she would have to remove before sex. Deanna hoped Jane would come over and say something before it started, but she was disappointed; Jane simply sat up and looked at Heather.

Heather was gentle. Jane could not tear her eyes away from Heather's incredible, muscular ripped body. She longed to rub it over with oil, to sink her teeth into Heather's utterly perfect breast. But she did neither; she let Heather make love to her, first facing each other, kneeling on the floor, then in all sorts of positions that opened her up to Heather's tongue and lips and hands.

On the sofa, Deanna watched, a pillow clamped firmly in her crotch, biting her lip so hard that it hurt. The pair of women were far more beautiful than either of them alone. With Heather, a part of her exulted as Jane's body arched with desire, while another part of her despaired. The Jane she knew was not ruled by sex; or at least, tried hard not to be ruled by it. But sometimes one failed.

The lovemaking became more passionate. Heather was amazing; she was an artist. But Deanna could see that she was more turned-on than she had ever been with Deanna.

Jane became gradually aroused, and took her turn at making love to Heather. She had done much the same thing to Deanna, under the compulsion of her passion. Heather was going mad as Jane licked at her breast, and got herself off riding Heather's thigh as she used her hands at Heather's opening.

Then Heather strapped on her dildo, as Jane watched, her fingers in her mouth. She gave Deanna one despairing look, as if to say that she was finished. Then Heather threw her on a pillow, on her face, and entered her from behind, lifting her hips to get the right angle.

Deanna, accustomed to watching hardcore sex, could barely contain herself. There was no pretense in what she saw; Jane had never been utterly subjugated this way. It was done with restraint and care, but Heather's passion was white hot, and Jane was conquered. Deanna wept to see Jane cradling Heather in her arms and legs, kissing her, cooing to her, almost inaudibly, whispering things that Deanna had believed belonged to her, to their love alone, hers and Jane's.

She felt the wetness between her legs, and was disgusted; she had enjoyed it, she had drenched the pillow. With a cry she threw it on the couch, and ran out of the room, up to her own bed.

Heather heard and saw her go, and was still. She looked into Jane's eyes, realizing fully what she had known already, at some level: she had hurt them all. She felt drained. She sank heavily onto Jane's perspiring body. Jane reached for a blanket to cover them both, her hands tender on Heather. They rolled, so that they lay side by side.

"I feel like a dog," she said, bitterly. "But I had to do it!"

"I should have stopped you," Jane whispered, still caressing Heather's face, kissing her again.

"Are you all right?" Heather asked her, concerned. The adoration in her eyes confused Jane.

"How can I be? I love her, Heather; sex was only a small part of what we had!"

"Then why... why did you let me destroy you both?"

"I don't know... perhaps it was a case of be destroyed now, or be destroyed later."

"Come on, let's go up and talk to her!" said Heather, getting to her feet incredibly gracefully, considering she still wore the big leather dildo, and she was exhausted with lovemaking. She held out a hand to Heather, and having unbuckled the sex toy, they climbed the stairs. But Deanna had locked her room from inside, and refused to answer their calls and knocks.

Determined as she had been to allow things to happen, regardless of what it meant to her, and determined as she had been not to hold it all against Heather, Deanna spent the night recounting exactly how much she hated Heather, and what she would do to her. And she rehearsed how despicable Jane had been, and exactly why it would never have done for Jane and Deanna to commit to a long-term relationship. It all boiled down to: Jane was a gutless slut, and a slave to her cunt.

In the morning, Deanna dressed without leaving her room, and was shocked to find Jane asleep right outside her door, in an armchair, wrapped up in blankets. Tears spilled out of Deanna's eyes; how pathetic was she? What was the use of fussing now, now that Deanna's heart was broken?

She easily slipped past the sleeping Jane, left the house silently, and went home. She got into bed, and tried to sleep.

—:—

## Deanna Goes Home

Jane had found Heather attractive from the outset. It was Heather that had first awoken lust in her. She had simply known that if Heather persisted in her attentions towards Jane, she could not resist it. She had counted on Heather's sense of decency to leave Deanna and her alone, but when Heather's infatuation with her had proved too strong, she had surrendered. If she didn't respond, Heather would be convinced that there was no future in it, and leave them both alone. But god, Jane had responded more intensely than ever before. It was as if she had discovered sex for the first time. When Deanna had run upstairs, Jane was far from worn out; she wanted Heather still more; only her sorrow for Deanna had driven her to follow Heather upstairs, and to beg Deanna to open the door.

Her dreams alternated between visions of being taken care of by Heather, and cooking for her, and feeding her, and feasting on Heather's exquisite beauty, and looking at the mirror and despising herself, and having long, exhausting arguments with Deanna, and confessing that she was weak, weak, utterly weak and unworthy, too much of a wimp to hold onto a lover.

Jane sobbed when she saw the open door. Heather came out to comfort her, but Jane continued to sob, filled with self-hate, sorrow for her lost love, sorrow for Deanna's inevitable heartache. Heather watched her, feeling impotent, and softly cursed to herself.

Eventually, Jane roused herself to join Heather, as she attempted to make breakfast, clean the house, and do the routine things that Jane would have done, taking in the mail, answering the phone, turning up the heat.

Heather was still nude; clearly the girl spent most of her time nude.

"Go and wash; I'll take over here," Jane told her with a kiss. Heather spoke softly, asking if Jane hated her. No, said Jane; I know myself; sooner or later you would have won. "But you might tire of me, Heather; maybe Deanna might have expected less."

"No! That's up to me; I must make it work." If only she could do something to lessen Deanna's pain! But she knew that Jane would reproach her for such a hypocritical thought.

"Go, get clean, and get dressed!"

"At home, I generally walk about in the nude," Heather said.

"All right; but take a shower."

—:—

## Life with Heather

Life with Heather was dramatically different. Jane should have expected that, but it surprised her anyway. There was a lot more sex, which Jane did not mind; in fact, she was beginning to need it more. She recalled sadly that Deanna had wanted more sex, but Jane had refused her.

Heather made Jane start right away with more weight training. After training, they had sex. They did household chores together, went shopping, browsed the web, and Jane learned a great deal from Heather about equipment, finding information, new software, articles, opinions, and resources. Surprisingly, Heather loved many things Jane loved; they dressed up and photographed each other, put pretend tattoos on each other, and Heather watched her paint. The ache Jane felt for Deanna never lessened; it seemed a permanent part of her now; but her anxiety about being able to fit into Heather's world, or Heather into hers, that evaporated.

Heather and Jane both tried to call Deanna at home. Jane called a number of times, but she didn't know that Heather was also doing it.

"Whom are you calling?"

"Who else? Deanna!"

"You? What for? Why don't you leave her alone?"

Heather looked at Jane sharply. "You must think that I wanted her to go off and kill herself, or something."

"Heather, I did not! But what could you say to her? It makes no sense for you to call her, when you've got what you wanted!"

"What could _you_ say to her?"

"That I love her... that I want to see her... that I would pay any reasonable penalty, if she lets me in her life again!"

Heather sagged, hanging her head, and placed the receiver back. "The three of us, together; we could have made it work..."

Jane had thought of that more than once. She wondered whether human nature could stand that kind of strain. It seemed to her that the competition Heather had made out of their love triangle boded ill for any kind of delicate balance.

Suddenly the phone rang.

"Have you been calling me?" demanded Deanna.

"Yes, yes, yes! Where are you?"

"Home."

"I want to see you! Tell me how to get there!"

There was a long silence, but Deanna told her.

Heather said nothing, but her agonized face spoke volumes to Jane, who was beginning to read Heather pretty well. She wanted Jane to ask Deanna if she would see her, too. Jane went to her; it was nice to be able to put her hand on Heather's breast any time she wanted. "I'll ask her," she promised, touching Heather tenderly.

It wasn't difficult to find Deanna's apartment. She found Deanna looking bleak, but otherwise okay. Her admiration for the girl rose enormously.

"Come in," Deanna invited her, not unpleasantly. She studied Jane's jeans and T-shirt with disapproval. Jane looked about, feeling strange—she should have visited Deanna at home much sooner. She found an empty chair and sat, awkwardly. Deanna sat across from her.

"Why, Jane?"

"Why did I come?"

"No, why did you let it happen?"

"That's not fair; I said no! Then we talked around it, and I reluctantly said okay; I remember you were all for it!"

"So you blame me for it, now!"

Jane shook her head, looking away. "She was so determined; she'd have done it sooner or later. I was hot for her, Dee; I couldn't go on saying no indefinitely."

"Okay, then why did you come?"

Jane looked at her, willing Deanna to understand how she felt. A variety of emotions passed across Deanna's face. Then she suddenly came across the room to Jane and kissed her, and began to weep softly. Jane wondered whether she had anticipated doing that—she imagined not; Deanna was not someone who planned such things. It was her honesty that had drawn Jane to her at the outset. She needed to be comforted, and deep down, she trusted Jane, however undeserved that trust may have been.

"Will you sleep with me?"

"I don't want to hurt you again, love!"

"Why? Why did you throw me away?"

"Deanna, think! What if she made her move a couple of years from now, when you had nowhere to go, when you had forgotten how to take care of yourself?"

"Jane... will you and she live in fear that some other girl will take you away from her? Maybe even me?"

Jane took a deep breath and considered that.

Deanna undressed her, and then herself, and they made love, soft, tender, gentle love. Jane felt the tears in her eyes, as she realized what she had given up. She craved a relationship with this woman, and already her brain was trying to find ways she could keep both women. Oh, soft, soft... what magic Deanna wielded, with her aching femininity! She was Woman, with her soft wiles, her strength in weakness! It was impossible to remember Heather's beauty, Heather's strength, Heather's passion, with Deanna's sly hands doing their work, and her pretty green eyes gazing on her so lovingly.

As she had done so many times, Deanna lay on Jane, stomach to stomach, hips to hips, thigh to thigh.

"I hated you, until you walked in that door," Deanna admitted. "I hated Heather; I hated myself, for wishing Heather to fall sick and die!" Jane nodded, knowing precisely what she felt. She could put herself in Deanna's place so well that it was uncanny. "You're my life, Jane."

"We were both so _content_ together!" wept Jane.

"Are you happy now?"

Jane shook her head, no. And Deanna imagined that there was only one small reason for Jane's discontent: the fact that Deanna was unhappy.

"Is it only that you've let me down?"

"Not only that," whispered Jane.

"Then?"

"I want you back," said Jane.

—:—

## Reunion

Heather paced up the hall to the living-room, and down to the entrance lobby, and back again. She was fully dressed, in slacks and flannel shirt. Her whole world had been turned upside down, and she felt responsible for all that had gone wrong in the last several days. She had had such plans! They would have gone out dancing on New Year's Eve, the three of them, and it would have been so romantic!

It had all started when Heather had first met Jane. She had been mildly attracted to her, but her feelings began to intensify moment by moment, until the shock of discovering that Jan was a girl. It had been as though Heather had been struck by lightning; her mouth had gone on talking, while her mind was reeling.

Heather was far more in love with Jane than she was willing to admit, even to herself. She was a cautious girl—as Jane herself was—and normally would have taken her time to plan her assault on Jane's affections. But Deanna had confused the issue; it had seemed to Heather that if she didn't move fast she would lose the prize. But it had turned out to be a little more complex. Jane's friendship with Deanna went beyond their sexual relationship, as Heather ought to have expected.

When Deanna called, Heather had been weak with relief; the last thing she felt she wanted was to come between the two girls. But where did that leave her, Heather?

Heather ran down to the basement, and adjusted the weights. She began to press, slowly, and presently calmed herself down. She assumed that Jane would talk to Deanna at length. She pressed another set. They would get into bed together; that seemed obvious. Heather sighed. Things were not at all clear; what could she do? She hadn't expected that Jane's happiness would mean so much to her.

Heather took up the phone, and Deanna's number was on the caller ID. She hesitated for a long moment, and then rang.

"Hello?"

"Deanna, it's Heather." Her voice sounded rough to her ears. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Deanna, it's me, Heather."

"I heard you!"

"Will you please come back?"

Deanna was curled up on her rug, leaning against the sofa. The phone lay on the rug near her. To Jane's artist's eye, she was the very embodiment of beauty.

She placed her hand over the microphone.

"What shall I say?" she asked with a frown.

"What does she want?"

"She says, come back!"

Jane took a deep breath and let it out, conscious of Deanna's eyes on her breasts. It felt odd to think of Deanna's honest lust for her. She reached around for her shirt.

"If we try hard enough," she said softly, "we can find a way to be happy, Deanna! Hang up; I want to talk to you before you say anything!"

Deanna picked up the phone. "Can I call you back? Jane and I want to talk a bit," she said, frowning, not in a real friendly voice, but not rudely. She hung up, and looked at Jane.

Jane looked at her hands.

"If she asked you to come back, that means she's willing to share—to share me, I guess," Jane said softly. "I love you, Dee! I want her, too—in a different way, obviously; but . . . as I'm talking, I can see it's inconsiderate to ask you to live like that!" Jane buried her face in her hands, and Deanna could see her face crumple up into the kind of grimace that said there had been too many mistakes, and there was no way out. A loud sniff confirmed that Jane was crying silently. "I should make a clean break of it, and let you find happiness somewhere... but oh Deanna, I can't! You're the first person I've really loved! The first one! I love you, and there's no going back! Oh, I hate this, I hate it!"

Deanna comforted Jane somehow, despite her own frustration. If she hadn't known that Heather was as upset as the two of them were, she would have had many vicious thoughts about what she would do to Heather. But it was clear to Deanna that if she didn't fight for Jane, she would regret it all her life. She was convinced that she could make Jane happier that Heather could.

"I'll come back with you."

Jane hit herself hard on her leg, so hard that Deanna winced. "I knew you would. Oh Deanna... I hope we don't make you even unhappier than you already are!" Jane's face was the very picture of uncertainly and frustration. "I'll call her first."

Deanna dialed, and Jane took the phone.

"Heather? It's Jane... Hi... Heather, I want to promise Dee some minimum... I don't know... like, I'll spend at least so many hours a day with her... huh?... Yeah... oh, thank you! Thanks for calling, Heather; that was... that was generous of you... to me, too. Okay, here's Dee. Wait, I'll tell her." Jane kept the phone pressed against her breast, and looked into Deanna's eyes, blushing. "I'll spend every other night with you, and at least six hours of the daytime, and you get to choose what times."

Deanna began to giggle; it was so silly. But the smile on Jane's face was worth it all. Deanna took the phone. "I accept," she said.

Heather wondered how long they would take to get back. She could not suppress a smile of satisfaction as she paced up and down the upstairs hallway, looking out through the little window at the end, to see whether the girls were in sight. Finally, there they were, walking slowly from the train station, Jane's head turned attentively towards Deanna, while Deanna appeared to be saying something a lot more thoughtfully than was her habit, pausing to think. They were well wrapped up, and only their faces showed over the scarves and mufflers. Jane was nearly half a foot taller, and decidedly boyish-looking, despite her soft, full lower-lip, and beautiful eyes. Both girls carried themselves well, and would have drawn looks of admiration anywhere, though Deanna was the more arresting beauty. Heather hurried downstairs, preparing some word of welcome. Nothing appropriate seemed to come to mind.

—:—

## Deanna Comes Home

She pulled open the doors, feeling a little breathless. Deanna was in front, and for a moment her fine eyes looked cautious. But she must have seen something that reassured her, because her face relaxed into a smile that wasn't much further than merely polite.

"Let me take your coat," Heather said, by way of welcome.

"Whoo! It's cold out there," exclaimed Jane, sounding nervous.

Once the overclothes were put away, the three women looked awkwardly at each other. Deanna's eyes slid up to Heather's eyes, and there was a defiant look in them. Heather quickly stepped up to her and embraced her. She went rigid for a moment, and then relaxed, and a heavy weight inside Heather seemed to lighten considerably.

"That's enough, Heather," said Deanna softly, "you can let go now!"

"Be mad," said Heather, sounding grim, "I deserve a few hours of it, I guess."

"Oh? And then I must switch it off?"

"I was hoping for us to go out dancing tonight!"

Deanna and Heather both loved to dance, and were wonderful dancers. Jane watched the complex dance of reconciliation with a slightly strained smile; Deanna had been uncharacteristically determined to vent her anger on Heather, though—in Deanna's estimate— Heather and Jane were equally to blame in what had happened. But Heather was managing it relatively well. She had always thought that Heather was a little too forceful for her taste, but here she was being wonderfully diplomatic and accommodating.

The two started kidding each other, and in no time the awkwardness was gone. Before Jane knew it, they were seated around the little dining table in the kitchen, making plans.

Deanna laid some money on the table, and looked at Jane.

"I'd like to contribute to the housekeeping, and the utilities," she said. "That would help me feel as if I belong here."

"You've always helped with the expenses," Jane pointed out.

"I want to help more. I don't know what your source of income is, but I've been working longer, I think, and I can afford a little more."

"I've been working longest," interrupted Heather, "and I'll pay, too. I'll be right back," she said, and ran off, and they heard her pounding up the stairs.

"She's not a bad sort," Jane said, her eyes wide, her voice entreating.

"She isn't, I know," said Deanna in a low voice. "It's just that—she's so intense; when she wants you so bad, how can anyone else compete?"

"Well, she's toning it down, a little. I couldn't stand it, either, if she kept that up. I let her do it for a couple of days, and then I begged her to let me breathe a bit. Oh Dee... she's so agreeable to anything to do with you, you'd be surprised!"

Dee shivered. She smiled at Jane. "I'll put up with a lot for you, you know!"

Jane blushed furiously, and Dee laughed. "Look at you! Oh, you make such a cute boy!"

Jane shook her head. From being someone whom nobody wanted, to someone over whom two girls were at odds was a strange transition. She wasn't sure it was more comfortable; but it was wonderful to have friends, any way they came.

They made plans for that evening. Jane insisted on wearing pants, in case she was seen by one of the models, who was almost certain to be out on New Year's Eve. Models were notoriously fond of partying. Jane had consented to go out only because Heather and Deanna insisted. When they stepped out, it looked as if Deanna was being escorted by two gorgeous young men. Heather wore tuxedo-like tight pants for dancing, with satin stripes down the sides, a sexy shirt with a couple of buttons open, and a cummerbund. Deanna wore a wonderful ankle-length green strapless gown which must have cost a fortune, slit to mid-thigh on one side, of some fabric that looked like crushed silk, with pretty earrings, and four-inch heels.

Jane wore dress slacks and a tan sweater in fine wool, which Heather had selected for her, and some eye makeup that left room for anyone to think she was a boy. She refused to wear any jewelry, except a ring each that Heather and Deanna had given her. They were both simple little silver rings, and were more tokens than real jewelry.

That was the beginning of a period in which all three girls were very happy, indeed. Their lowered expectations of each other made their interactions smooth; and being basically generous-hearted girls, they made it as easy as possible for each other.

They did run into both Isabella, who was out with a group of gorgeous European boys, and who came over at once when she saw Jane, to say hi; and Zsuszana, who was out with a mixed group of young and old, who waved vigorously, with a special smile for Jane.

Isabella had taken Jane's hands in hers and pressed them, smiling. "Happy New Year, Jan," she said, saying the word as the Dutch would say it. Jane smiled and wished her the same, but Isabella held her close and gave her a nice kiss on the lips. She was happy and excited, and clearly pleased to see Jane. "I see you in New Year, yes? You are so lucky for me!"

"Lucky? I was the lucky one, lucky to get you! You did a wonderful job, Isabella!"

"No, I am lucky, because, the, ah, the,... Her eyes rolled around as she looked for the word, "the shoot, yes? I like it very much, and... I got lot of money!" Isabella's shoots had been on commission, and Isabella's own people had paid Jane, and presumably put the pictures up somewhere.

"Oh! I'm glad to hear it," said Jane, smiling. Isabella held her tight and kissed her once again, and ran back to her boys, calling out something Jane could not hear.

"Who was that?" demanded Heather.

Jane looked at her in exasperation. "Isabella DiVitti; she's well known," she said.

"Is that her? I hardly recognized her! She looks so solemn in photos!"

Jane shrugged. "Maybe people like her like that!"

"If you could make her smile, you'd make a fortune!"

"Dance with me, now!" Deanna said, and that ended the discussion.

Midnight arrived, with the usual hullabaloo, and the three of them stood, holding each other, and shared a kiss in a dark corner. It was first a chaste kiss, but after that, they took turns to kiss each other seriously. They had all drunk a certain amount, but were far from inebriated. Heather waited, quite the gentleman, while the other two kissed long and deep, after which she kissed Deanna thoroughly, and finally Jane, while Deanna looked around anxiously, worried that people would notice the two 'boys' kissing.

The night was miserably cold. The trio spent half an hour of the new year in the crowd, watching people drink gallons of champagne, which the trio hadn't remembered to bring along, and then they headed home on foot. Their feet hurt like crazy, since all of them wore some sort of heels, but the cold miraculously couldn't get to them. Something seemed to keep them warm; perhaps it was the prospect of going to bed. Somehow, they had all planned that this first night they should all three sleep together. When one of them brought it up, they all exclaimed yes, it was a wonderful idea, and after a mug of hot chocolate, they got into bed.

—:—

## In Bed

"This is different!" Deanna exclaimed, trying to bounce on it. "It's larger, and . . . nicer!" Heather had obtained a Queen-sized bed, anticipating that it would form an important part of their life together.

This time Jane was put in the middle, and Heather indicated that Deanna and she should consider it their turn to do what they liked. Once the lights were put out—Deanna wanted the lights out—the two girls kissed quietly, uncertain as to how far they wanted to go. But Deanna and Jane each had each spent the evening dreaming about kissing the other thoroughly once they got home, and now they did so in earnest. With their legs entwined about each other, the two friends kissed with increasing passion.

About half an hour later, Heather slipped close to Jane, and pressed herself against her back. The girls were locked in a long, long kiss, their bodies pressed together at an angle that told Heather that they had found a way of pleasuring each other without the use of hands. As she joined in, pressing her crotch against the straining muscles of Jane's magnificent buttocks, a tremor of pleasure ran through them. Heather started a slow rhythm, pressing and relaxing, which the other two took up at once. Deanna recalled that night long afterwards as a miraculous one, a slow crescendo of feeling that at the end became a vast, long release for them all, a miraculous communion of sensation and emotion, and Deanna remembered that she wept silently, and she didn't know why. Deanna was wrung out, having pressed upwards in waves, against Jane's body for almost half an hour, towards the end of which she had barely managed to breathe. And when she had lain back, her eyes closed, Jane had kissed her lips and her eyes, and her ears, and Deanna had once again felt loved and cherished, a feeling she had missed for what seemed like weeks.

Deanna was surprised at how great a change there had been in Heather. She was always decently clothed, and her little caresses of Jane were never possessive; they never seemed to say that Jane was hers alone. Deanna could not help but be affectionate towards Jane, and at first, when Heather was around, she would catch herself being too demonstrative, and look at Heather guiltily. But Heather would only smile; and Deanna began to realize that Heather was not jealous of Jane with Deanna. When they went out, Heather's eyes would narrow when anyone, of either sex, looked at Jane with too much interest. She was too much under control to make an issue of it, but Deanna just knew that it took a lot of effort for Heather to hold back. What could she do, Deanna wondered to herself; Heather looked like a fighter, but could she really fight? She certainly walked with the confidence that indicated that she could handle herself, as the saying goes.

That New Year's Eve, Jane had looked different. Deanna had helped her style her hair close to the head, and her heavy eye-makeup had attracted attention. She had refused to wear lip color, but had consented to a little 'lip balm, for the cold,' which had been just enough to make her look eerily sexy. What a chameleon she was! Perhaps consciously—Deanna couldn't tell—Jane simply _was_ a boy dressed in androgynous style. Somehow she could immerse herself in a style, and still be herself. As they had promenaded along, it had been Heather and Deanna who drew the looks, but as soon as they paused anywhere, eyes would turn to Jane thoughtfully. And Heather would try not to look around; if she happened to notice someone looking at Jane with too much interest, she would stiffen up just the tiniest bit. And Deanna had realized that she was unhappy, too.

In the new year, they went dancing once a week or so. Heather could really dance, and for really good dance music, such as classic Latin and salsa rhythms, it was Deanna that Heather chose. Jane refused; she would never dance unless she was absolutely certain of the steps. Deanna undertook to teach her some of the easier dances at home, and Jane gradually learned them.

With the new year, Jane's work began again. If Deanna was not out on a shoot, she would stay and help with makeup and lights. Heather stayed out of it, though she occasionally watched from upstairs, unobtrusively. Deanna and Heather often laughed that right after a model had left the house, it was usually a good time to make love to Jane; evidently the shoot heated up her libido.

CHAPTER FOUR

# Metal

## Arthur

One day, when Jane and Heather were out shopping, they happened to walk outside what appeared to be a fashion event. Suddenly Jane froze, and then said, "That's Arthur... I'm sure of it... Arthur! Arthur!" she called. Heather saw a young fellow in his late teens look around in confusion, and seeing Jane, look quite shocked. Then a wide grin lit his handsome face, and he hurried towards them. "Sis!" he cried, and soon they were hugging and kissing, and Heather waited, bemused, until Jane could explain.

The resemblance was not great, but the more Heather watched them together, the more evident it was that they were siblings. And very fond of each other, too. Jane could barely keep her hands off her brother; she touched his hair, held his hand, straightened his collar, for all the world like a doting mother, while he in turn gazed at her, devouring every detail of her. How are you, they asked each other every few seconds, and laughed.

"This—this—this is—my brother, Arthur!" said Jane, finally, a little shyly, to Heather, studying her face eagerly for any sign of—what? Heather wondered.

"Hi, I'm Jean! Jean Davis," said Heather. Long ago they had decided that Heather would introduce herself as Jean, if some acquaintance happened to pop up. Jane's eyes looked the tiniest bit alarmed, as the ramifications of the situation hit home to her.

"Hey, Gene, pleased to meet you," said Arthur, offering his hand. They shook; he had a firm handshake, but not a bone-crusher. He was also gorgeous when he smiled, Heather decided. Up close, the resemblance was even more pronounced. Arthur seemed very shy, like Jane, and tended to stand away, unlike many young boys who would stand right close to you.

"So, you're doing photography!"

"Yes," said Jane. "It's fun, and I make a living. And you?"

"You won't believe this, but I'm a designer!"

"What kind of designer?"

"Cover art, for books, and CDs, and stuff! Posters, billboards, anything!"

"But isn't it difficult to get into that field?" asked Heather, politely.

"I was lucky; I did the cover design for this one CD, and suddenly I'm in demand! It was kind of insane, really."

"What was the CD?"

"It was a greatest hits thing; _Retrospective_ it was called. You know Idol? They were big in the eighties?"

"Oh," said Heather, "I know the CD! That really was a sensational cover!"

"I've never seen it!"

"Well, it wasn't a real big group, but the greatest hits CD sold well. Probably because of the cover!"

Arthur blushed prettily.

The CD cover, Heather remembered now, had been interesting; it showed what looked like a female robot doing a yoga position. It had been wonderful; sexy and slick and classy, all at the same time. Looking at the marquee over the doorway, Heather noticed what it said: _All-Metal Fest_. Heather looked at Arthur with new respect; he was evidently into the metal fetish scene.

Jane was all a-flutter about having met up with Arthur. She explained to Heather, somewhat incoherently, that she worried about her brother having run away from home. She didn't think her own situation was so bad, but Arthur—she had lots of doubts that he was all right.

"Well, he's probably old enough to be out on his own," Heather soothed her.

"I don't know; he's only 19, Heather; and very trusting, you know? He'll give away all his money to some smooth-talking con-artist! Oh, I'm so worried!"

Heather comforted her as well as she could, and Heather quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek, and a smile through lowered lashes, which was as far as she would go in public, acknowledging what there was between them. Her hair had grown longer, and she wore it in a tiny ponytail when she was out on the streets. They headed into the train station, and began the complex route that would bring them to their platform. Unexpectedly, they saw four little kids emerging from a crawlspace. Neither of them had realized that there was a crawlspace there, and clearly the kids were dismayed that they had been caught. While Jane stared at them, they ran off, up the escalator, and disappeared, the youngest, a little girl, lagging behind the others.

Jane looked at Heather, wide eyed.

"That little one can't be more than four!"

"Oh, five, at least," said Heather, immediately regretting having said it.

"What are they doing?"

"Keeping warm," said Heather.

"Keeping warm," said Jane softly to herself.

The rest of the journey home Jane was thoughtful, and Heather knew she had been deeply affected by the little homeless children, because that was clearly what they were.

—:—

## Money

Some time in February it became clear that Jane would have to take a second job in order to pay for the taxes on the house. She had no idea that the taxes could be so high, but Heather assured her that she was not imagining it, and there was no mistake. "Real estate values are unbelievable out here; the taxes are equally high! I said I'll help you, and I will, Janie; and Dee said she'd help."

"No," mumbled Jane, "you shouldn't have to. It's my responsibility." She sighed. "The more you help, the more I want to earn, so that you won't have to."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Well, that's how I feel."

Before long, she had a job working at a suburban supermarket nights and weekends. Heather came out with Deanna one evening to see how she was doing, and they found Jane totally involved in her work. They had not realized how much Jane knew about produce and the grocery business. And she was a hard worker; she hurried here, hurried there, so much so that Deanna, watching with Heather from under cover, said she'd wear herself out within minutes. "The trick is to look like you're working, but take it easy," she said. Heather nodded; she'd done her share of low-paying jobs. In the end, they revealed themselves to an indignant Jane, were given two candy bars and were shooed out of the store.

When Jane arrived home, Deanna was fast asleep, and Heather was up waiting for her in one of her own terry wraps.

"You didn't have to stay up, hon!"

"I have to talk to you," said Heather, avoiding her eyes.

"Uh-oh," said Jane. "What happened?"

"Have you eaten? I'll make coffee."

"Tell me!"

Heather was taking her coat and gloves, and impulsively Jane grabbed Heather, pulled aside the lapel of the robe, baring her breast, and bent to kiss her nipple. But Heather felt stiff and wrong.

Jane let go and looked up into her face in puzzlement.

"What's wrong, Heather?"

"Dee—me and Dee, we—we did it, while you were gone." She was all red, but she met Jane's eyes, finally. "I thought I should tell you right away."

Jane slowly relaxed.

"Heather—you and Dee can do whatever you like, okay? I assumed that, sooner or later... that this would happen. I'm glad, Heather; it would have been odd for the two of you to... do without, just because I was not here!"

"If I wasn't attracted to her, it wouldn't be so bad..."

"It just doesn't matter, okay? I'm not upset."

The next day, Deanna also confessed to Jane. She came into the shower while Jane was in it (something Heather simply never did), and held Jane tentatively by her arms; Jane could tell she was tense by her eyes.

"I slept with Heather," she blurted out. "You know that it's _you_ I love!"

"It doesn't matter; I don't care," said Jane. It had been a long, lonely night, with Heather restless beside her, and Deanna also restless, and asleep, on the other side. She had had enough time to feel a little betrayed. She resented the fact that she would forgive them both as a matter of course.

"Kiss me, then, to show you forgive me!" Deanna's eyes were alight with mischief. But Jane just couldn't kiss her, at that moment, and the stricken look in Deanna's eyes almost made her put her arms around her and give her a big hug. But she was frozen there, with the warm water dripping down her nose.

"I understand," said Deanna, in a whisper.

Somehow water got into Jane's nose, and she began to cough and choke. Deanna tried to help, but Jane was not only in pain, but angry now. They shut the water off, and Jane began to weep in earnest.

"I'm sorry! I'm so, _so_ sorry! I won't ever do it again!"

They sat on the edge of the tub, trying not to make too much of a noise and bring Heather out, wondering what the fuss was about—though she should have been able to guess.

"Heather told me," said Jane, in a voice drenched with tears of self-pity mixed with concern for Deanna; "I wouldn't have minded, except... she didn't even touch me last night; I wish..."

"Oh you poor thing... and I was fast asleep, too!"

"I—I should have just cuddled with you, I guess..."

Somehow Deanna's arms had the healing touch. By the time they were out of the bathroom, Jane felt immensely better. At breakfast, Jane told them—avoiding their eyes—that they should be free to make love whenever they wanted. "When you guys feel guilty, you're so miserable that I end up suffering even more!"

"Oh, we don't have to, do we, Heather? It was just—just—we got carried away!" Deanna had a frown on her face, as she looked at Heather for support. "Say something, Heather!"

But Heather hung her head. Deanna glared at her, and Jane shrank into herself, blaming herself for the mess.

Heather looked positively ill, because all night long she'd agonized so much, she had suffered painful heartburn, which she stoically did not mention.

"No," she said, "I didn't get carried away, Dee; I—I've wanted to do it for a long time! Jane, I'm sorry!"

Jane got up and hurried away. They heard a door slam; Jane had locked herself up in one of the rooms.

"What'll we do?" asked Deanna. Heather gave up a quick prayer of thanks that Dee was still speaking to her.

"I'll go off by myself; maybe you should, too. Let's try not to meet anywhere, Dee."

"Okay!" Deanna looked hunted. "Don't do anything silly, now, Heather; I care about you too, okay?"

"Of course I won't! Whatever made you..."

"I just—I just wanted to make sure you knew, that last night wasn't just lust, or something, that's all!"

Heather stared at Deanna, whose eyes widened at the prospect of being misunderstood. But then, what was there to misunderstand? Deanna fled.

For a while Jane could hear the others going about, unnaturally silent, then there was quiet. She wondered what was going on. There was to be a shoot that afternoon at 1:00, so Jane emerged from her self-imposed seclusion in time to get ready. Normally Deanna would have helped her with the shoot, but today she hoped Deanna would keep away. Jane had just had a taste of how complex their chosen lifestyle could be. She took extra care to put herself together, grooming her hair just right, ironing her slacks, and wearing a nice pair of gentlemen's penny loafers, size seven.

When she came downstairs, nobody was home, and there was a note on the kitchen table, folded in a pentagon, the way Deanna usually left them. It said _Jan_ on the outside, and inside:

Jan,

Heather and I feel awful, and we talked about it, and decided we all need time to think it over. We've carefully gone to different places, so you must not think we're out somewhere together. I'll be back at seven, I don't know about Heather. She went out first.

— XOX Dee

Jane smiled, tears threatening again. Could they guess that she loved them both more than ever before? The more she thought about it, the sillier it seemed, to think about what had transpired as _betrayal_. What gave Jane the right to enjoy both girls, and the others the right to enjoy only Jane?

The net result of the whole thing was that Heather felt the strain of having wanted to make love to the two girls all night long, but having been thwarted from doing so.

—:—

## Maria

It was Zsuszana's shoot. The young lady was having difficulties that had little to do with modeling, Jane knew by now, though not exactly what the trouble was. One thing Jane suspected was that the girl was underage. She could be no more than 15, beautiful though she was.

She was learning English very fast, which suggested that they had been in the country only a few months. Things were very tense between little Zsu and Jane, though on the surface the kid was polite. Sometimes the politeness seemed almost grudging.

Today the plan was to pose her with a length of sheer net fabric; the mother, who was accompanying her all the time now—yes, it was her mother, unbelievable though it was for such a young woman to be her mother—the mother was anxious to tone down the exposure of the girl. Explicit photos had been forbidden from the outset, and now it was to be partial nudity, only. Jane was actually pleased.

Mom knew less English than the daughter. As she tried to explain what she wanted, Zsu exclaimed impatiently. "What's the use?" she demanded, and then swore at her mother under her breath, so only Jane could hear.

Jane stopped what she was doing, and gravely shook her head, holding the girl's eyes with her own.

"She's so silly!"

"I'll make you look beautiful; you wait and see! Let me have that..."

Jane draped the lengths of netting carefully, to fall from her head, covering her long, glossy hair. She made up the girl's eyes with eyeliner, and had her pose in a doorway, with the folds of fabric in one hand, looking at the camera through lowered lashes. Instinctively the girl took on the persona of a fairy bride, being stalked by a lover of whom she was not trustful.

After a half dozen shots, Jane showed her what she had, and her eyes opened wide with appreciation. Thereafter the shoot went smoothly, and the kid seemed almost to be flirting with the camera, or with Jane; it was hard to tell. In any case, Jane was finding it hard to control herself. She was finding Zsu unbearably sexy today. It was all she could do not to touch her own breasts.

She had been holding her breath. She let it out, and realized how exhausted she was.

"That's enough, I think! It went very well!"

"Can I see?" Zsu's mother asked. She was very sweet, and when she saw the photos, she held her breath, her eyes wide. She tried to tell Jane how marvelous they were, and Jane smiled and nodded.

"Come into the kitchen," Jane suggested, "I'll make you some tea."

Somehow Zsu had never noticed the gingerbread house, and the way she exclaimed her pleasure at it, and crouched over it, studying it closely, told Jane that the girl was by no means eighteen. She made the tea, as the mother—who said her name was Maria—studied the contents of the kitchen.

"Good tea," said Maria, smiling. She looked radiant today, Jane thought.

"Thanks; I must make it more often for you!" Jane was finding it difficult to keep up the charade of being a boy, and Maria was clearly impressed that the photographer was so gentle and such a home body.

"Mr. Jan, Zsuszana have many trouble with homeworks," Maria said, out of nowhere. Like lightning, Zsuszana turned around and glared at her mother.

"What are you two talking about?" she demanded from her mother.

I told her you have trouble with your schoolwork, that's all!

I do NOT have trouble with my schoolwork! Anyway, why did you tell him?

He might be able to help! He cares about you, child!

Jane, of course, could not follow what was said in Czech, or whatever their language was. But the general drift of it was plain. Zsuszana looked at Jane thoughtfully.

"Mathematics, I can," she explained, "English is a little difficult, yes? Not for you, Jan, for me!"

"Well," said Jane, amused and a little touched with their trust, "I could give you a little help now and again."

Show her your book!

Okay, okay, calm yourself. "I'll bring my book, okay?"

"You have it here?" asked Jane, surprised. Then she realized: these were foreigners; they put a high priority on education.

"Oh, yes. Be right back!"

The girl brought Jane her books: one was for reading comprehension, while the other was writing exercises. Soon Zsuszana was standing at Jane's shoulder, and Jane was explaining things to her.

Maria watched, eyes wide. After about half an hour of it, she sent the girl off to put some clothes on, and Jane heaved a sigh of relief; she could literally feel the heat of Zsuszana's body against her upper arm.

"You are very kind," Maria said, while they waited for the girl. "Very decent," she added, leaning forward, and briefly placing her hand on Jane's knee. Jane couldn't help looking startled, and Maria blushed and took her hand off.

Was Jane busy? If not, could she spend, maybe an hour with Zsuszana, and they would pay her?

"Oh no, I'm glad to do it!"

Maria was made comfortable in the living room, reading a pile of magazines, and Jane began to seriously work with Zsuszana. The girl was bright, but simply did not find it easy learning English. But Jane kept at it, and gradually they made progress. The sight of Zsuszana's face when she suddenly understood something, and she said it in her own language with evident satisfaction—that made Jane feel wonderful.

An hour passed in no time at all, and it was time for the visitors to go home.

"Money, please?"

"No, no money! It was nothing, really!"

Maria looked at Jane with such love that she felt uncomfortable. She spoke rapidly in her own language, and indicated to Zsuszana that she should translate.

"She says, this is a wonderful country, and you're a wonderful person, and her heart—her heart... I don't know; what is it?"

"She's grateful, perhaps?"

"Yes, yes!"

Maria took Jane lightly by the shoulders, and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. It was unbelievably sensuous, and Jane stopped herself just in time from kissing her back. She held out her hand to little Zsuszana, who gave Jane her own soft little hand, so perfect, and reached up on tip-toe to kiss Jane on the lips. She giggled, and her mother gave Jane a rueful smile. It must be hard, Jane thought, to be the mother of a teen porn star.

After they had left, Jane lay down and gave herself over to her lust for Zsuszana and her mother. Despite the criminal nature of exploiting a minor in the porn industry, even implicating Jane herself in doing so, there was an innocence about the two women that pierced Jane's heart.

Her house mates eventually returned from their wandering. Deanna came home first, and expiated her sins by making love to Jane. Heather arrived after they had finished making supper, and only smiled at the two of them. Then it was Jane's turn to head out to the grocery store.

"Fuck each other blind," she said, in benediction as she prepared to leave. She left them staring after her in shock, while she laughed.

—:—

## Metalfest

Arthur was duly introduced to Deanna when he visited the house one weekend. He was awkward with Deanna, but he seemed to like Heather really well. Of course he called her Gene, for which Deanna had been prepared beforehand. Heather liked him, in her own way; luckily she wasn't one of those hostile lesbians who hated men. It helped that Arthur kept his distance, and was unassuming and polite.

"You should come see the new show, up in Baltimore!"

"What kind of show?"

"You know: metal fetish stuff!"

They took Arthur's suggestion, and headed out to Baltimore, and Jane had an education. Apparently there was a whole world of people whose hobby was to act out all that was perverse in sexual expression, and made both a worship and a mockery of it. At first Jane was appalled and disgusted, but when she came home with the others, she found herself more at ease than she had in a long time. She recognized that some of the weird fantasies she was plagued with were by no means uncommon, and it was almost a relief to see them acted out by folks who seemed perfectly normal.

"I want to go again," she said, and the girls enthusiastically agreed to take her.

Every night, there had been a combination runway fashion show and dance, so that attendees with outrageous get-ups could show off, and everybody could have a good time.

The next time, the three friends dressed as kinkily as they could, given their limited spectrum of costumes. Deanna wore her long strapless gown and her sexy heels, Heather wore black hose and a starched shirt-front, and for Jane, they found a latex skirt which she wore over black tights, with a denim vest and a black mask. The whole thing was like a costume ball, anyway, and she fit right in.

"Sis, you look smashing!" said Arthur, with sincere admiration. It was good to have him there, since he could partner one of them for dancing. Jane was enjoying herself hugely, dancing with anyone who asked her. In a mask, it didn't seem to matter whether she knew the steps. Miraculously, she was dancing so well, there was often a circle of admirers watching her dance, sometimes to steps she invented on the spot. The whole idea was not to dance a conventional step at all, but to improvise something that went well with your costume!

—:—

## Body Painting

At about that time, Jane took up body painting. It was Isabella who started it.

Isabella was a strange girl. Unlike the others, Jay had simply referred her to Jane; she was self-employed, and she paid Jane to take photos of her. Often she had ideas about a theme for a shoot, other times she simply left it to Jane.

Physically, she was perfect. She was just coming into the height of her beauty; she had outstanding features: a boyish build, but instead of being hard-muscled like Heather, she was all soft, all curves, a lot like Jane herself, except that she was drop-dead gorgeous. She had the most beautiful large grey eyes, just slightly slanted, tiny breasts you could fit in the palm of your hand, smooth, paper-thin skin, perfect eyebrows, long, long legs, a narrow waist, but not too narrow, hips just wide enough to make sure you would never mistake her for a boy, long flyaway honey-blonde hair, a shade lighter than Deanna's and less wavy, a perfect mouth with just a hint of a pout, a beautiful high forehead, perfect ears, and down between her legs, a perfect, hairless crotch that drove Jane mad with wanting to stroke it. Oh, what touchable skin she had!

It was her perfect skin that gave Jane the idea that painting her would be an interesting idea. In addition, it had the benefit that it took a long time, and gave Jane an excuse to touch her everywhere. Jane painted her after fairytale characters: a swan, a mermaid; fantasy creatures: a butterfly, a Greek goddess, Peter Pan, an Indian Princess, and so on.

A tried-and-proven idea was to paint on a swim-suit; it was when Jane was doing this that Isabella gave herself an orgasm because of Jane touching her. Jane had felt awkward about painting her crotch, but Isabella had insisted that it had to be done.

"Of course, you have to do it," she had said, her face becoming a little red. "I sit here; come closer, and do it." But after five minutes she had grabbed Jane's hand and brush, and held it tight against her, breathing hard, and simply had an orgasm. "I'm sorry!" she cried, trembling with embarrassment, and laughing through her tears.

"Shall I take a picture of you, crying?" Jane had asked.

"No!"

What was Jane to do? Finally, it struck her that if Isabella knelt, with her knees together, they could take the picture immediately.

Isabella apologized repeatedly for the embarrassment. Jane insisted it was nothing, though she made up her mind that they would avoid designs that involved painting Isabella's private parts too much.

One of the saddest things that happened was that Jay said the lesbian shoot with Heather and Deanna was unusable. There was too much kissing; they were covering up each other's bodies, and so on and so forth.

"Okay, let me have them," Jane said.

"What will you do with them?"

"Try and sell them, of course!"

"It can't be done, I tell you! You don't understand; what we want is . . ."

"I know. Just let me have them, please."

He had refused, but Jane kept asking, and finally he brought the photos over. One day, Ann happened to see them, and went almost crazy with excitement.

"We must put these up," she said. "These guys are stupid."

"You mean, get ourselves our own website?"

"Of course!"

"I don't have the money, and anyway, I don't know web programming."

It had just so happened that Arthur visited that night, and Jane asked him whether he knew how to do it.

"Oh, easy," he said at once. "It just takes a little under a thousand bucks, that's all. If you have the money, I'll set it up for you."

They were all going out to the metal show; it was the last day of the two-week event, and Jane had acquired several odds and ends of things to wear. Because Jane liked to wear shiny black costumes, she was being called Scorpia, a name that she loved and hated at the same time.

They were all in costume. The taxi deposited them at the entrance, and promised to be back sharp at midnight.

It was a triumph. Without even trying, Jane was chosen the Queen of the Dance. She thought that it was mostly because she had so many fans now, who liked to watch her dancing. She wore a black enamel metal short skirt, and a daring pastie to cover her crotch, a matching black vinyl bra designed like a bolero jacket, her usual black mask, and an interesting spiked helmet. She had learned to dance on incredibly high platform shoes, and all evening everybody cheered her dancing, and once she won her title, she had to dance on the catwalk, while the crowd went crazy with excitement.

—:—

## Arthur

It was midnight, but Heather and Deanna, who had been voted best couple, were also surrounded by admirers, and Deanna was a little drunk. Jane was exhausted, and nervous about not being able to get home late at night if the taxi went off without them. In the end, Arthur said he would take her home, while Heather and Deanna found other transportation.

"You're lucky I waited," said the driver, grinning. "I had lots of offers, you know!"

"Oh, thank you so much! I'll give you a little extra, driver; I'm grateful to you."

"They all say that," grumbled Arthur to her, but he didn't challenge the driver out loud. "What a night," he breathed.

"I was totally surprised," Jane said.

"You were a shoo-in," he said, smiling.

Jane sighed. "Oh Arthur," she said softly, "you have no idea how wonderful it was to see you! I kept thinking you must hate my guts, for abandoning you..."

"You know me better than that," said Arthur quietly.

The taxi charged an outrageous fee, but they paid it. Jane begged him to go back and bring her house mates, but he said he had to get home. Jane was worried, but too tired to think of what else she could do, but go inside. Suddenly the big house seemed very empty.

"Arthur! You should have taken that cab!"

"Sis?"

"How are you going to go home?"

"I... I'd like your advice, please..."

"You'll have to stay, Arthur; oh, what will they say?" Jane led the way to the kitchen and poured them both a little juice.

"Sis..."

Jane sat close, looking at Arthur with worry in her eyes. "What is it, Artie?" she asked softly.

"I... I think I'm gay."

Looking back, it hadn't really worried Jane very much that she was bisexual. But Arthur's declaration startled her. How would her parents react? But now, it was time for _her_ to react.

"How do you know, love? Have you had... like, a relationship with a guy?"

"No... not really; nothing you would think was... you know?"

Jane nodded. "Have you ever been out with a girl?"

"Only dancing... movies...."

"Never kissed one? You know... petted a girl?"

Arthur shook his head, getting very red.

"Well, you know something?" Arthur looked at her, too miserable to take the effort to show any emotion. "Your favorite sister is gay, too!"

That caught his attention.

"But Jay..."

"Yes, but you know it didn't work out."

"Because you..."

"Because _he_."

" _Our_ Jay?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Jane looked at him askance. "Not any more, he isn't _our_ Jay; I left him a year ago."

"Hence Gene, then."

"Hence Deanna."

"Oh."

"Come on. I'll get your bed ready for you."

Arthur sat on the chair, silently watching his sister with tired but adoring eyes. She was incredibly sexy that night, her usually quiet good looks enhanced by the ridiculously high platform shoes, which she was still wearing, and her provocative vinyl and metal garments.

"There," she said.

"I'll have to sleep naked," he said, blushing.

She laughed and danced out of the room.

Arthur undressed slowly, feeling a horrible confusion. He was beginning to realize that his affection for his sister was turning to lust, to desire. She was as familiar to him as she possibly could have been; they had been room-mates for most of their lives, until she had had her first period. She had always treated him with courtesy and respect, and he had loved her ever since he could remember. Of course they had been a very loving family, except for Dad, who had been a little too much of a disciplinarian. But even he had been tolerant of Arthur, the baby of the family.

He had been driven crazy by several men at the MetalFest. But Arthur had never realized how devastatingly beautiful Jane would be when she dressed up. He undressed slowly, wondering how he could bring himself to put on his socks again in the morning; they were soaked through. And his underwear; it was sticky with his lust for Jane. He had an erection so hard that it hurt him.

Jane knocked at the door, just as he slipped under the sheet, and turned on his side. She came in cautiously, looking relieved to see he was covered up. She had on a black terry robe, and looked utterly beautiful.

"What's the matter, darling?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Will you sleep with me?" he asked, his voice hoarse. He felt light-headed; he couldn't believe he had actually asked her.

"Why?" she asked, looking puzzled, and then looking doubtful.

"Because... I want to know what it's like!"

She shook her head and looked away. "Wait until Deanna comes home; I'll ask her for you..."

"No! It's you I want!"

She slowly lay down on the coverlet, curled up, her eyes sorrowful. She stroked his face, and he closed his eyes, and turned his lips to kiss her hand. "I've done so many wrong things... shameful things... no; things that mom and dad would hate to know... I don't want to hurt them in one more way, Artie... I love you; sex has no place in what we have, sweetheart!"

A big tear of embarrassment and frustration rolled out of the corner of his eye. Jane was filled with the love she had always had for him, and was keenly sensitive to his embarrassment. He had laid himself bare to her; she wondered what she could do, to lessen his anguish.

"I could . . . get you off," she whispered, her hand on his soft breast. Unexpectedly, her elbow touched his painful erection, making him wince involuntarily. He covered his face with his hands, willing her with all his being to touch him, there.

The temptation was too great. Jane slipped her hand under the sheet, and felt his penis, and he shuddered at the touch of her hand. Within seconds, there was a puddle of semen on his abdomen, at which Jane stared bemused.

"Don't move," she whispered, slowly getting up without disturbing the linen, or touching it with her hand. Her hand had a string of it across its back, and Arthur stared at it, fascinated. "I'll clean it up," she promised.

Her eyes were wide with worry, excitement, and who knew what else. He caught a glimpse of her breast through the opening of her robe. His heart was beating furiously fast, and his breath came in little shallow gasps.

She came back with damp towels, and tenderly wiped him clean. The emotions that raced through him in those seconds were both fearful and incredibly sensuous. She lay next to him, turned towards him, her great brown eyes shining with compassion and love, and a sense of having shared something that was borderline illicit.

"Sex is the most wonderful thing in the world, Artie," she whispered, "when you love the person you're with!"

"I love you, Sis . . . God knows I love you!"

"But there are so many wonderful girls!"

He turned to her and shook his head, and suddenly they were kissing. She got up to set aside her robe, and he almost fainted at the beauty of her. Then she slipped in beside him, and they made love. He had never guessed how passionate she was, nor that she would be so with him.

After the first intensity of their desire was slaked, Jane found herself watching their lovemaking as it were from the outside. He was, instinctively, everything she could ever want in a man, beautiful, gentle, loving, tender. It was both disconcerting and exciting to discover so many things they had in common, to see her own eyes gaze at her with such love, her own shoulders under her hands, her own lips kissing her. And finally, to feel herself filled once again with warm, heavy nectar.

Mere minutes after they clung to each other, exhausted, there were noises downstairs. Jane got up with a curse, stuffing a towel between her legs. As her gaze touched his eyes, he whispered: "I love you, I love you, I love you!" She only smiled, a twisted, sad, tremulous smile, and at that moment he loved her so much, he thought his heart would burst with love. He watched her flex her knees as she cleaned herself off, then tie her robe on tight, and hurry downstairs.

"You're still up!" exclaimed Deanna, a little more loudly than she had to.

"Artie had to stay the night; we were talking," he heard Jane say.

"Is everything all right?" Gene was asking, softly.

"Well, sure;... there are a few—issues—we have to..."

"Thrash out, as they say?"

"Yes... how did it go, after I left?"

"Oh, Jane, you were the absolute smash hit of the night!"

"It's—it's a strange sensation," Jane said.

"You were beautiful. You _are_ beautiful. You're the most beautiful thing alive," Deanna was saying. She was sobering up; Artie could hear it in her voice. "I want you, soon!"

Then there was some stuff he couldn't hear, and a low-voiced argument, and then silence. There were sounds as they walked around, went into the bathroom, and Jane was talking nervously, then more silence, doors closing, and Jane walked into the room and shut the door.

It was totally dark, and Artie wondered what Jane was doing. Would she come back to him? He wanted her again; he had thought that the last time he was really fucking his brains out, but here he was, ready again.

She was in bed with him again. He reached out to her, and it was her hand he found. She was wearing her robe.

"You're a wonderful lover," she whispered. "I will never forget it, what we—what we did together." There was a silence, as they each tried to find words to say how they felt. He heard a loud sniff, and then a sob. His heart suddenly felt like lead. He had never liked to hear Jane cry, and here, he had made her cry himself. "I _hate_ it! I hate that it's wrong!"

He put his arms around her, and she came into his embrace, so fragrant and substantial, yet so precious. He wondered whether he would ever be able to keep up his end of a conversation about love, and passion, especially with his sister.

They did talk, eventually, all night long. There was so much, it started with a trickle, then it poured out; all that they loved and hated about their large, extended family, about their mother, their oldest sister, everybody. About Jay. Every moment, he loved her more, and he could hardly believe that this magical creature, this angel, was his very own sister, whom he had loved and annoyed and adored for a lifetime.

As Jane knew, and Artie had suspected, it was impossible to keep their secret from the others. Arthur knew, now, that Gene was a girl. He felt pathetically grateful to them that they weren't judgmental about it. But they did ask some pointed questions.

"Did you use protection?" That was Heather.

"Now don't be harsh, Heather!" said Deanna, quickly.

"This is important, kid. Did you?"

"No," whispered Jane. "What shall I do?"

Heather looked at Artie solemnly.

"It shouldn't be just _her_ responsibility, Arthur. Take protection with you, when you go to spend a night with any girl." He nodded dumbly. "Okay, we have to go do stuff. Right now."

In spite of their annoyance with him, the girls became his family. Jane, too, was annoyed with him, though she couldn't tell him why. But she loved him fiercely, as she had always done. She wouldn't even talk about getting into bed together again. And she had the strength to be loving and affectionate with him, even though he knew she wanted to sleep with him again as much as he wanted to lie with her.

The taxes on the house took every extra penny they had between them, including all the money Jane had made at the grocery store. There was now no money for their plan to put together their own website, but Arthur was on board. Jane was working at the grocery store still, and Deanna was taking on extra assignments, just to be able to finance the project.

—:—

## Scorpia

Unexpectedly, when Jane's Scorpia photos appeared in the Metal magazines, Arthur began to get calls for her to model.

"Do what?" Jane demanded.

"Pose for ads, even for record covers!"

"Why me, Artie?"

"I don't know! They just like your proportions, or whatever! These are very peculiar people!"

"They like breasts, and I don't have any!"

This was an awkward topic for them, because Jane knew that they could never see eye-to-eye about her body. Arthur thought she was a knockout, and she knew better. The worst part was that Arthur's admiration of her made her feel wonderful and sexy.

As long as she could wear her mask, Jane thought, she didn't mind posing. Accordingly, she created several photos along the lines of what they said they wanted, with the help of the others, and suddenly they had enough money for their long-desired own website.

In mere days, the website was up and running. It was simple, elegant, stylish, and most of all, the photos were wonderful. Ann was ecstatic; she got all her friends to subscribe, and slowly they began to make money. Once Zsuszana and her mother learned that their beloved Jan had his own website, they immediately asked if the girl's photos could be hosted there. Jane refused. She would only host her photos if she was fully clothed. The girl threw a fit, but her mother said, yes, they would do it.

It was a challenge to take photos of Zsu fully clothed that people would pay money to see, but somehow Jane managed it. There was absolutely nothing suggestive about any of the shots, except the girl's own spectacular beauty. As gradually the child became confident about her appearance fully clothed, a new radiance seemed to come from her.

Another model who found out about the website and asked to be hosted on it was Isabella. Very shortly, Isabella refused to be photographed by anyone but Jane, and to be hosted by anyone but Scorpia.

CHAPTER FIVE

# Maria

## Movies with Zsuszana

Jane, meanwhile, was very fond of Maria, Zsuszana's mother. Jane and she maintained a slowly smoldering, undeclared passion, and Jane looked forward to exchanging burning looks with the sweet black-haired beauty. Jane knew now that she was just thirty, a former dancer and gymnast.

Zsuszana continued to come and get help from Jane, even after she began to do extremely well in school. Maria was full of how much Jane had helped her, and Zsuszana had a new air of confidence that pleased Jane. With all the time they spent together, her grammar was now very good.

Still, Jane was surprised when Maria announced that they wanted to treat Jane to a movie.

"Oh, let _me_ take her! I would be delighted to take her!"

"No, she take you, Jan. She want do it, so it's okay!"

So Zsuszana called one day, dressed beautifully in a perfectly cut dress that was good enough for a prom, but was still understated. It emphasized her young breasts, and brought out the beautiful lines of her arms and her shoulders.

They were going unchaperoned. This fact struck Jane a little too late for her to do anything about it. The way Zsuszana looked up into her eyes as they walked along, the way she leaned against her on the train, the way she pressed her warm thigh against Jane's leg, all were hints of what was in store.

At the movies, Zsuszana asked to be seated with Jane far from other viewers, and sat gracefully, and Jane realized that she was fast becoming a woman—not just any woman, but a gracious, graceful woman, warm and intelligent.

And passionate. As soon as the feature started, she took Jane's hand, and laid it on her naked breast. The dress made it easy. Oh, it was sweet, so sweet, as long as Jane did not try to regain possession of her hand. When she did, Zsuszana slipped onto Jane's lap, and turned to gaze into her eyes, and beg. "Please, please!" she whispered, "touch me!"

It was the first of many movies, where Zsuszana begged Jane to pet her. It was never anything very heavy; she was content with rubbing her budding breasts against Jane's hand.

When she came for tutoring, she was all business, but at the end, she would ask, "Did you enjoy the movie?" and Jane would say, no, she did not. And Zsuszana would insist, yes, she did, she _knew_ she did.

Then she began to suck on Jane's fingers. It was incredibly sensuous, and Jane knew that the girl got as much pleasure from pleasuring Jane as from pleasuring herself. Jane's slightest suggestion became her command; in regards to studies, this was especially true. If Jane asked her to write a story, she would do it the same night.

—:—

## Maria's Home

Then, one day, Jane was invited to visit them in their home.

They met her at the front entrance of the apartment building, and Zsuszana at once took possession of Jane's left arm, which she held against her breast. Maria was talking up a storm, clearly embarrassed. Up and up they went, to the fifth floor, into an efficiency apartment, polished until it shone, hung with beautiful fabrics, with a fragrant meal spread on the modest table. Everything was in perfect taste, relative to their economic station in life. Maria showed off little things she had bought, copies of those Jane owned: the same salt-and-pepper set, the same can opener, the same egg-timer. It wasn't quite a shrine to Jane, but it was clear that they adored Jane.

It was also clear that the two of them were quite alone. There had been a man at one time, but he was not in evidence.

The meal was wonderful. Mother and daughter were at their best, entertaining Jane as she had never been entertained before. An enormous photo album was brought out, with pictures of Zsuszana in poses that Jane would not have considered any more. There were photos of Maria, too, from when she was a dancer and a gymnast. She was just as beautiful; they had the same expressive eyes. To Jane's surprise, there was even a nude of Maria. She had incredibly long hair, down to her seat, and she stood on a hill, the wind blowing her hair like a banner, and she had the most innocent, smile, innocent but proud in her nakedness.

"Beautiful hair," Jane murmured, and looked up to smile at Maria.

Maria still wore the warm smile she had worn all evening. Mother and daughter exchanged looks, and without a word, Maria took the photo out of the album. Jane began to protest, no, please don't! But Maria found a pristine envelope, put the photo in it, and gave it to Jane, saying, "Please! I have many photos!"

Valentine's Day was a day Jane had dreaded. But when she awoke, she found her bed covered with bundles of roses. Deanna and Heather stood, smiling away, and there was Arthur, also smiling. It was so horribly wrong, but Jane was in heaven. She had always loved roses, and she had seldom been given any.

She dressed quickly, and brought out two small bouquets of roses from where she had hidden them, one for Heather and one for Deanna. Deanna kissed her long and hard, and then Heather kissed her.

Then Arthur kissed her, and she held him close, forgiving him for all that he had made her do, for the guilt he had caused her, though she had always denied to him that there was guilt. And, as always, Arthur could feel her emotions: she could seldom lie to him and get away with it. She felt him trembling with tears, and comforted him. Then he had to hurry away to work, and she reluctantly let him go.

All day, the three of them spent in a rosy cloud; everything seemed romantic. Much of the photography Jane had undertaken for Jay was the very antithesis of romantic; today, she worked true to her feelings, and some of the models left feeling bewildered, but took some of Jane's warmth away with them. She was not a warm person, or at least she was not accustomed to thinking herself as such. Deanna—there, now, was a warm woman! Sensuous though she might be, delighting in touch, and the pleasures of the body and the eyes, yet she had a warmth that glowed through everything she did. Heather, too, was a warm-hearted girl, but that warmth was focused on her immediate circle, which now consisted principally of Jane and Deanna, and to a lesser extent, a few other models who shared Heather's interest in physical culture and athletics. But Jane was discovering within herself a capacity to care that she had not known before.

Both Isabella and Zsuszana and her mother visited —at different times— just to visit. Isabella brought her a single rose, and smiled at her and kissed her chastely on the lips. Isabella smiled a little more often, now, and it transformed her face. She was dressed in a simple, brief cotton dress, with only a thin white cardigan as a concession to the slight chill in the air; her legs were beautifully bare, and the simple wedge-heeled sandals complemented her costume beautifully. Deanna and Heather watched from the kitchen doorway, amused, and Isabella blushed, and smiled at them with an awkward little nod of her head to them.

"Come in! Please join us in a cup of coffee, maybe?" Jane had failed to convert her to tea.

"No, no, you are busy!"

"Not at all, there's lots of time! Come on in."

Deanna came forward to greet Isabella with a smile warmer than ever, complimenting her on how pretty she looked in her dress. Isabella shyly returned the compliment, asking Jane to agree with her that Deanna looked lovely. She did, indeed, in a spring-like dress in shades of green, with multi-colored roses along the sleeves and border. Heather and Jane got the coffee, and they chatted together about inconsequentials, and as much industry gossip as Deanna could bring herself to talk about. Isabella fit in with them well, they found out; despite the fact that she was perfectly comfortable with both nudity and sex—even if she was not known to have taken hardcore photographs—her conversation was not raunchy.

"You know, I want meet Scorpia! Why she doesn't have a party? I know so many, want meet Scorpia!"

"Well, you simply have to come to the metal fetish gatherings! They're a lot of fun," said Deanna, smiling.

"Will you tell me, next time there is a—a..."

"Gathering?"

"Yes!"

"Certainly, dear! You know you have to dress up, don't you?"

"Like Scorpia?" she asked, looking worried.

"No, no, no," said Heather. "We'll help you put something together." She looked at Isabella, her head tilted to one side, thoughtfully. "You know, you'll make a wonderful fetish chick."

"You will," agreed the others.

"This is good?"

They laughed. "We think so!" said Deanna.

"That girl has a thing for you," said Deanna, thoughtfully, when Jane had seen her off. Heather smiled and nodded agreement. "I don't know whether I should be jealous."

Jane smiled, feeling embarrassed. "I think you should; I'm getting very fond of her."

"Well, if she meets Scorpia, she's not going to be as interested in you as she is now," said Heather.

Zsuszana brought Jane a paper in which she had scored a full 25 points. Jane made a fuss over her, as did Deanna, who served her some of their home-made brownies.

"So it's working," Deanna said, impressed with not only Zsuszana, but Jane's achievement.

"Oh yes," said Maria, emphatically. She had been introduced to Deanna socially only minutes earlier, and had not quite realized that Deanna actually lived there. She had been studying her —unobtrusively, she probably imagined, but it was clear to both Jane and Dee— and only then joined in the conversation. "She is a very intelligent girl."

"I want to go to university," said Zsuszana seriously.

"Why?" asked Deanna.

"Because I can. I want to—I want to be rich!"

"That's the only reason?"

Zsuszana scowled at Deanna, whom she knew principally as a dresser and a makeup-girl. "What do you mean, the only reason? Why does anyone go to university? To learn, and..."

"I think she means..."

"I mean," said Deanna firmly, "that if you're going to be a glamor model, what use is a university degree, or a college degree?"

"Did _you_ go to university?"

"Two years of college," said Deanna. "And I don't regret it. But it's no use to me now, let me tell you!"

In the end, it was Maria who brought the discussion to a peaceful conclusion. In her own, awkward and determined, but pleasant and diplomatic way, she said that people were different, and that in their own culture, which was Hungarian, one could be a university graduate, and still be a nude model. Deanna loyally defended the American system, saying that there were probably American girls out there who were in the adult entertainment business, who had an education. Still, what could they _do_ with a degree? And Maria had shrugged and smiled; business, law, ethics, writing, art, economics.

"You should finish your degree," Maria said, and there was something in her eyes that made Deanna not snap at her in anger. Deanna only sighed.

Both Deanna and Maria and Zsuszana had much to say about the others later, to Jane privately.

"Is Deanna some—I don't know—your girlfriend, maybe?" Maria asked, her smile a little bit strained.

Jane glanced at Zsuszana, and the girl quickly spoke up.

"Mama, it is none of our business!" But there was hurt in her eyes.

"Yes," Jane said, "She is special to me. But it isn't exclusive; we both see other people." She smiled, and though she felt sorrow at Zsuszana's disappointment, it was probably best for them all. She wondered why she hadn't thought of introducing Zsuszana to Deanna sooner.

—:—

## Sickness

A few weeks later, Jane was startled to find Zsuszana at the door by herself, looking pale and desperate. She clutched Jane's hand and whispered, "Come with me! Maria is sick! So, so sick! Please come!"

"Where is she, in hospital?"

"No, in... in the apartment!"

"Honey, if she's really sick . . ."

"You come! I don't know what to do!"

The girl was on the brink of hysteria, but was controlling herself with an enormous effort of will. Jane quickly put on a jacket, put her wallet in her pocket, and followed Zsuszana.

"How did you get here?"

"I took the train."

Jane hailed a passing taxi, and they hurried to the apartment.

The scene that met Jane's eyes at the top of the stairs was disaster. There was a nauseating stench; Maria was suffering from acute diarrhea. It appeared as if she had had a bout while Zsuszana was away, and had not been able to get out of bed.

With a cry, Zsuszana ran to the bed, and tried to rouse her mother.

"She has fainted!" Zsuszana started to cry softly, trembling with fear and anxiety.

The immediate need, Jane knew, was to force liquids into Maria. If she couldn't be roused, they would have to take her to an emergency room. With great effort, she managed to coax Maria back to consciousness, and began to make her sip water.

"My sister has had diarrhea," Jane told the hotline, "what should I do?"

It was agonizing, but they concurred that water was essential, and some kind of salt-balanced drink was better. Jane sent the girl out for something.

She carefully rinsed out whatever was not too soiled, and put the rest of the soiled linen in a garbage bag.

"Jan!" murmured Maria. It was the only word she spoke for almost an hour.

When Zsuszana returned, Jane and she aired out the room, and raised the temperature setting on the heat. It had been set extremely low, probably for reasons of economy, or perhaps they liked it that way. But they needed to open the windows. Part of Maria's problem had been acute depression; the diarrhea had triggered it off, and Zsuszana had been helpless to deal with it.

After Maria had drunk the greater part of the isotonic nutrient solution her daughter had brought, she looked a lot less ill. Soon Jane was holding her in her arms, as she wept in embarrassment, frustration, weakness and relief.

"You're going to be fine," Jane, told her gently, rubbing her back.

"Don't go," whispered Maria, and other words in Hungarian, which Jane could understand only by the tone in which they were said. Zsuszana watched them both, her eyes huge, and filled with tears. Jane directed a questioning look at the girl, who only shook her head slowly.

"I will be right back," Jane said to Maria.

Maria slowly held Jane at arm's length, and studied her face. "Come back soon," she pleaded softly. "I will, I will," Jane assured her, moved by the woman's plea. She hurried to where she had laid the bag full of soiled linen, put on her jacket and gloves, and turned to wave at the mother and daughter. She patted the phone at her hip. "Call me anytime, if you feel sick," she said earnestly.

"I don't know your number!" said Zsuszana, rising to her feet.

"It's on the refrigerator," said Jane, pointing.

It was unheard of, to give private numbers to clients in the business; it was simply asking for trouble. But these two had long ago given her their number, and now Jane had taken the final step of closing the circle. Zsuszana had run to Jane and said in a low voice, "I love you!" There had been possessiveness, despair, and other complex emotions in those words. It was not a love triangle yet, but Jane felt herself sliding into it, and this episode was hastening it.

Torn between taking the clothes home to launder, and washing them at a commercial laundry, Jane chose the latter in the end, just to be close to Maria. There was a laundry right round the corner, and she was able to use two machines at once. The other customers looked curiously at her, and she wondered that she looked so conspicuous. Once the clothes were sorted and put in the machines, and the machines had begun to wash, Jane simply sat and watched the younger ones among her fellow customers. There were several Hispanic, black, and eastern European children, between the ages of a few months and about seven, and they played, as children often will, seeming to ignore Jane, but somehow including her in their laughter. The warm weather and lightening mood of the people in the laundry and in the streets contrasted uncomfortably with the scene Jane had left, in the home of the two Hungarian women, whom Jane had come to love so dearly. She agonized in her heart, even as she smiled with the playing children, how she could say that a love between either of them and her could only come to nothing in the end.

Though Jane had been brought up in rural Pennsylvania, among working folk, unlike city folks, they were conservative in their politics, and accustomed to aligning themselves with the haves, rather than the have-nots among their fellow-countrymen. She could not imagine living a life of squalor, in surroundings such as this, throwing in her lot with people such as these. Yet, having lived with Deanna and Heather for several months, little changes were taking place in her that she had not yet reconciled with the assumptions by which she lived. Fiercely independent as she had been, it had irked her that she had come to rely on her friends increasingly, both for companionship and financial support.

But if she received so much from them, was it not her duty also to give? And was it only to them that she owed a duty? They had owed her nothing, yet they had given her love when she needed it. Lust there had been, desire, need, gratification of basest desires. But love and caring had followed at once.

She had given Zsuszana and Maria her love in the same way; without any expectation of anything in return. But she feared that the relationship they were approaching would place demands on her that she might be unwilling to fulfill. Foreign, with a different culture, they could not understand the kind of undemanding love that she wanted of them. She could not expect them to. Most of all she was afraid of the fragility of their existence. What if something happened to the girl; what if she was molested—worse, what if she was raped?

She suddenly noticed that a little girl was close by, watching her.

"Are you okay, lady?" she asked softly. She was thin, but her hazel eyes were beautiful, and she had the prettiest dimples in her chubby cheeks.

Jane quickly put a smile on her face.

"Yes, thank you, dear! You're very pretty!"

The inane comment pleased the little charmer. Jane thought to herself at once that Heather would have resented the compliment. "Don't treat girls any different from boys," she always told Jane. Jane had ventured to suggest that Heather was not such a feminist as she made herself out to be, else why was she in the adult entertainment business, which catered principally to men? She had got an earful for her pains.

"Why aren't you wearing a bra?" demanded the little inquisitor, which made Jane blush, and she was promptly called away by an embarrassed older sister.

Jane picked up her clothes and dried them, and the little girl approached her again and dimpled at her.

"I thought you was a girl," she said artlessly.

"I am," said Jane, wondering whether she was losing her mind to confess such a thing.

"Hah!" said the young detective, sticking her tongue out at her elder relative. Jane and the woman in question exchanged rueful smiles. The girl was called away again, with torrent of Spanish or Portuguese, Jane couldn't tell. She carefully folded the linen, bundled it compactly, and headed back to Maria's apartment. What were the chances, she wondered, that the little girl would end up being a porn star? Perhaps she would not be that fortunate.

Jane let herself in the street level door with the key she had been given, and knocked before she entered the apartment.

"Jan!" exclaimed Zsuszana, pleased and relieved to see her. She ran to Jane. She was getting taller even as Jane watched, and she ran with the grace of a woman. She kissed Jane on both cheeks and her lips.

"She's better already! Look!"

It was true. Maria had changed, washed her face and combed her hair. As Jane approached her bed, she sat up and patted her long black hair into place. She had a thick braid, that reached almost to her hips, Jane saw. The light in her eyes, still showing the marks of her days in bed, hurt Jane with the love in them.

"What did you do? Wash the sheets!" Maria turned to her daughter, her smile turning to a slight frown. But she was too well-mannered to cause a scene in front of a visitor. She and the girl exchanged a rapid-fire series of Hungarian sentences, Zsuszana shrugging her innocence. "Thank you," said Maria, graciously. "Give, me, I'll put away in the box," she said, struggling to get to out from under the covers. But she wore only panties, as Jane knew; all her clothes had been just laundered by Jane. "Zsuszana !" she called, flushing.

Somehow, between her and Zsuszana, Jane managed to keep Maria in bed, and got the linen put away. Jane helped the girl fix something for Maria to eat, and something for themselves as well, since they disdained fast food with a passion. Jane had to call and cancel an appointment, which chased the smiles from the faces of both women in the room. Maria gently urged Jane to go on home. She was losing money on their account. She knew better than to offer Jane money, now. She slipped under the covers, up to her chin, her beautiful eyes following Jane about the room, as Jane and Zsuszana finished eating, washed up, and straightened out the apartment.

Jane finally came to check on Maria. She couldn't resist a tender stroke of the sick woman's face, and was shocked to feel how hot her skin was.

"You're not out of trouble yet," she said. She was too accustomed to sickness to be alarmed by a temperature, but she wondered whether Maria had the strength to handle a virus right after food poisoning.

"Come in the morning?" Maria asked hopefully, looking surprisingly young and vulnerable.

Jane asked Zsuszana whether there was any anti-pyretic in the apartment: aspirin, or acetaminophen, or something similar. She was given a long explanation of what had happened to all the drugs that they owned; they had all been used up. Jane wrote what she wanted on a sheet of paper, and sent the girl out with some money. She wanted to talk to Maria alone, anyway.

"Something is wrong?" Maria asked, acutely sensitive to Jane's moods.

Jane took a deep breath.

"Maria,... I don't know how to say this... I'm a girl. I am a woman," she said softly, looking her right in the eye.

An amazing series of expressions passed over Maria's expressive face.

"You?"

"Yes."

"No!"

Jane grew red. This was frustrating. She unfastened her belt, and unzipped her jeans, and suddenly Maria capitulated. "Okay, okay," she said quickly, making Jane pull up her zipper. "Why you tell me now, Jan?" she asked, softly. How soft, how musical her voice was, even in sickness!

"Because... because..." Jane made an awkward gesture, indicating first Maria and then herself, trying not to burden the thought with words that would not come anyway.

But Maria settled back, her face unruffled by a look of concern. Jane thought she saw a smile, but soon she was more concerned about her patient; Maria clearly had a headache that she was trying not to show.

Zsuszana burst in with the medicine, and Jane made Maria take it. Within seconds, it seemed to act, and the relief made Maria slip into sleep.

"I'll be back in the morning," Jane said.

"Tonight! Tonight, please, Jan, I can't be alone with Mama! Anything can happen!"

"You can call me, now, you have the number."

When Jane returned home, she was worn out, not only with the physical activity, but the weight of the responsibility. Zsuszana was reluctantly willing to shoulder the responsibility of caring for her mother, but she simply did not know enough, and she loved her mother too much to take any risks on her behalf. She was a curious mixture of idealism and pragmatism, and the practical thing now was to make sure that her mother was safe.

Deanna wanted to know what was going on, but it was Heather to whom Jane explained, once Deanna fetched her. She was doing all their taxes, and came reluctantly. Once Jane had told her the story, however, she was on the case.

"She's got to be seen by a doctor," Heather insisted. "I don't think she's in danger, but she's been weakened by the diarrhea. It could be some flu, too."

"But how?"

"We bring her down, and take her in a taxi!" suggested Deanna.

Heather shook her head. "If she has an infection, taking her around the town is not the best idea... I wish I knew a doctor, damn! I know a bone-and-muscle woman, but... we're not talking at the moment! She would have helped..."

"Gabe!" exclaimed Jane.

"Who's Gabe?"

"He went to school with me, and now he's in medical school somewhere..."

The friends were doubtful. It was too risky to put this situation before an unproven medical student. But presumably Gabe would know someone who could help.

It was decided to call Arthur. That worthy revealed that Gabe had gone into pediatric nursing, but there was good news, too: he was dating a doctor.

"What's her name?"

"I can't remember; Pamela Sue, or something like that. Here, I'll get you his number; they live together now, since the New Year."

Heather looked startled.

"What?"

"That's... that's Mary-Ellen's number... the woman I was telling you about!"

—:—

## Mary-Ellen

Jane called, and with some difficulty established who she was. "Gabe, I have a large favor to ask; it is a medical problem!... Yes, I know; but I was told your—friend—might be able to help!... I understand... But Gabe, please, let me ask her!"

As it turned out, Mary-Ellen was not hard to persuade. She was not an internist, but she said she would help, since it was the kind of case "the system wouldn't like to help with." She told Jane what to get and keep ready; most importantly, she told Jane what to do in case of the most likely crises that could arise.

"Anyway, so you're Arthur's older sister!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so!"

"He's a cutie!"

Jane laughed. "Well, I'm glad you like him, if that's what made you help us!"

"Do you look like him?"

Jane blinked. "A little, I suppose. Only a little, though."

"You sound really pretty over the phone!"

Jane giggled. "That's a good trick! Wonder how I do that!"

Now Mary-Ellen laughed; she had a pretty laugh over the phone, too. Jane glanced at Heather, who made frantic signs: no, no! No!

"We have other friends in common, but... you must be ready for dinner, or on-call, or something; we must talk later!"

"Who? Who do we know in common?" Mary-Ellen insisted, most unprofessionally.

"I'll tell you next time I call!" said Jane. "Thank you so much! I really, really appreciate your help and advice. Mary-Ellen, how can I pay you? I would gladly go through your normal billing system, if you like; or I could send you something directly. Anything you say. Honestly."

"No, not through regular billing. If there's a paper trail, if something goes wrong, you know how it is? I could be sued out of everything I have. Forget I ever spoke to you, but call me if you need help!"

Jane thanked her again, sincerely, and hung up.

"Why did you have to do that?" demanded Heather, looking like thunder.

Jane sighed and looked at her.

"Tell me what happened," she asked softly.

" _You_ happened!" bit out Heather.

"Did you love her?"

Heather stared at Jane, then at Deanna, and then off into the distance, looking perturbed.

Questions of love had never arisen, for either Heather or Deanna, until Jane had come along. Arguably, they had never arisen even for Jane; she suspected that her relationship with Jay had been founded on physical need only, and only on her side. She realized now that the principal attraction she must have had for Jay—apart from the fact that they had been buddies in high school—was that she looked enough like a boy to make him feel comfortable. She had practically _been_ a boy; she was becoming a woman, without ever really having been a girl.

"We... we were happy," Heather said. "She's sweet and generous; she was hardly ever home, and when we were, we... fucked all the time."

"There you go; perfect," said Deanna. "And you gave it all up, what an idiot!"

She felt immediately sorry when she saw Heather's face.

"I'm just as happy now—happier," Heather admitted. "But she simply couldn't understand. She cried... I hope Gabe is good to her," she said finally. "She's a wonderful girl; she needs to be looked after."

"She said I was pretty over the phone," Jane said, sounding doubtful.

Heather nodded. "She's mostly a lesbian, though she swings both ways. But she's honest about sex; she prefers girls. She should have been a gynecologist. No; they should simply get a woman into the house."

Jane shook her head. Gabe would never go for that. He would be perfectly kind to her, but he had his limits, she knew. Mary-Ellen would have to get her satisfaction some other way.

Jane was not to have her night of rest in her own bed.

"Mama wants you," Zsuszana said in a low voice, over the phone. Was there any symptom of something going on? "She's sick; she threw up, but... that's not a big deal, is it? I gave her water, and she kept that down. I gave her more medicine, like I told you, and a little soda."

Jane said she would be right over.

"I'll come with you," said Deanna, getting her coat. Heather got ready to join them.

Zsuszana was alarmed to see all three of them. Jane understood, but the child didn't understand their need to verify that Jane was handling it. Both of Jane's lovers were very protective of her.

"Have you eaten?" Heather asked Zsuszana, something Jane had overlooked. The girl shrugged. She had eaten a pop-tart.

Jane asked the girls to take Zsuszana out and feed her.

Maria looked exhausted.

"I spoke to a doctor," Jane explained, sitting on the edge of the bed. Maria looked a little alarmed, but she was too weak to react more. "I have a list of instructions," she said, waving it. "Nausea and vomiting is one of them. Let's see . . ."

She was to call if there was nausea that lasted longer than half an hour.

What could she do? She could leave the instructions with Zsuszana, knowing that the girl would follow them faithfully, if only she was a light sleeper. But some of the instructions involved calling Mary-Ellen again. The fever was low, and Maria's grip on her hand was firm.

"Go home," Maria whispered.

"You should go to an emergency room!"

Maria slowly shook her head and winced. "I make everybody sick. I make _you_ sick, and your... girls sick. Because of me."

"And Zsuszana, too, I expect."

"No; she had this before."

"Ah."

"Go home. No, stay here!" Maria smiled. "Go! Stay! Go! Stay!"

"I think I'll stay," Jane said. "I can look after both of you. Pop-tarts aren't enough for the girl."

Maria looked alarmed.

"She ate pop-tart for... for dinner?"

"That's what she said."

"There is food... oh Jan... what have I done? I am such a fool!"

"Why?" asked Jane, presently.

Maria only shrugged, avoiding her eyes; perhaps a full confession of her errors was beyond her vocabulary and her energy reserves.

Her phone rang.

"Well, we're eating our heads off," said Heather; "how does it look?"

"I think I'm going to have to spend the night."

"That's what I figured. Do you have a sleeping-bag in the house?"

"No, Heather! I wish I did!"

"I've got one. It's expensive; be careful with it. We'll all go get it; the kid needs a little fresh air, love. Shall we bring you a snack?"

"Well, some supplies would be nice; wait, can I give you a small list?"

It was a beautiful sleeping-bag. The girls had taken Zsuszana out to Heather's old digs, picked up a number of items she wanted to take out to the house, picked up the supplies Jane had asked for: bread, cans of soup, bullion cubes, and dropped them off. It had been decided to take Zsuszana to the house. She went reluctantly, but it made sense; over at West Chestnut, she would at least get proper meals on time. And they were not too far from her school.

Maria was sick again, and Jane called Mary-Ellen. Mary-Ellen quickly determined that there was no need to panic. Her competent voice calmed Jane down.

"Are you going to spend the night?"

"Yes, I thought it was best..."

"Good. Keep a close eye on her. Watch the feel of her skin; if it feels dry and papery, we have to move fast. If her temperature goes too high, same thing." There were more instructions, and Jane wrote them down, underlining key words. When she was finished, Mary-Ellen drilled Jane all over again.

"You have such a cute voice," Mary-Ellen said, presently, lowering her voice. "I wish I could come over and see the patient —and you..."

Jane laughed. "I was warned about you," she said, a smile in her voice.

"Who is this mysterious common acquaintance?" Mary-Ellen demanded, keeping her voice down with an effort.

Jane began to reply, and realized that Maria was listening, her eyes wide. She bent close to her and said she'd be right back. Maria nodded reluctantly. Jane went out the door, and sat on the steps to talk.

"Mary-Ellen? Are you there?"

"What happened? Oh, was the patient overhearing us?"

"Yes! We can talk now."

"Go on!"

"Well, it's someone who had only good things to say about you."

"Who?"

"Heather Johnson."

There was a long silence.

"So you're the one," said Mary-Ellen softly. Jane wondered if she was the vindictive type.

"You deserved better," Jane said gravely.

"No... did she say that?"

"Yes. She never said a word that there was someone, until this evening."

"I never said a word to Gabe, either. Well, he knows there was _someone,_ but... but that was all." There was a brief silence. "I only realized I loved her once she was gone!"

What could Jane say? She found that her heart went out to this woman whom she had known so briefly.

"Once—all this—is over, we must talk about..."

"I don't know... wait; I'm going outside..." A sad smile twisted Jane's lips. It seemed that adult life was a series of diplomatic crises. "I'm back... oh dear! Here you are, I hardly know you, and I'm burdening your with all this stuff!"

"Well... it's sort of my stuff, too, indirectly."

"I'm bisexual, you know. It's as if I have two hearts; I have a home, with Gabe, you know? But the part of me that loved Heather... that's still..."

"I think I understand."

"If I find someone, another woman, that is, maybe that will heal. But Gabe can't fill that need!"

"I know Gabe; you're in kind of a fix, I guess."

"He's coming to look for me... back to the patient, then..."

"Can I call you pretty late?"

"Any time. Gabe will wake me. Don't bother if he curses; he's used to it. I rarely get emergency calls, but I look after a lot of our friends, you know?"

"You need a life, girl!"

"I would have one, if not for you!" said Mary-Ellen, very quietly, but with feeling.

"Okay; I promise to work on the problem!" said Jane, and hung up quickly.

"Who is she?" asked Maria, trying to sound casual.

"The doctor, an old friend of mine," said Jane, feeling pride at having such a connection.

"You will stay with me?"

"Yes. I have a sleeping-bag," she said, pointing at it, as it lay on the floor. Maria strained to see.

"What is it?"

Jane patiently unrolled it, and showed her. "You get inside, and you zipper it up, see?"

"Oh, yes," said Maria. Evidently she was not a stranger to them; she only hadn't recognized it.

"Okay," said Jane, "a little sip of soda, and you go to sleep."

In the end, Jane had laid the sleeping-bag right on the bed, and climbed inside. By now Zsuszana would know that Jan was a girl. It was inevitable; the girl would have to be disillusioned sooner or later.

"I have to check your skin from time to time," Jane whispered. "Leave your hand where I can find it."

They were in the dark; from the windows came the constant racket of the streets; this part of town never really quietened down at night. Maria put her hand on the coverlet, and Jane took it, held it carefully in her hand. She could feel herself slipping...

"Jan!" It was a mere breath.

"Yes?"

"You are a girl..."

"Yes... I'm sorry!"

"Zsuszana..."

"I understand; she will be upset. It can't be helped. I didn't mean to be cruel!"

"I like women more, Jan... I will call you Jana!"

"Jane, please; that's my name," said she, quickly.

"You are an angel," whispered Maria.

"Please don't," said Jane, not in a whisper, but the plea came out soft, not in the firm voice that should have shattered the mood. Jane made sure Maria's hand was where she could find it, and took her own hand away.

"Don't worry," said Maria, present, also in a low voice. "Don't worry, Jana—Jane; don't worry," she repeated, whispering an endearment in Hungarian.

But, despite Jane's every effort, something was forged between them that night; a kind of link of the hearts that Jane could not put in any category, but something that seemed to make an enormous difference to Maria.

She was sick twice during the night, and her temperature rose very high another time, but Jane kept her hydrated, gave her the medicine when it was time, and in the end, slept with her hand on Maria's arm. But her skin was good; soft and flexible.

Maria worried constantly about her child. What about school? What about her meals? What about her clothes? Jane kept telling her she would be fine. She had canceled all her appointments for the week. Every afternoon, Heather and Zsuszana came by so that Maria could check on her, and receive her report. One day she called, saying that Heather and Deanna were taking her to a school event. "Can you walk?" she asked, in Hungarian, but Maria said no, after consulting with Jane.

—:—

## Maria's Convalescence

Jane had to help Maria with everything: going to the toilet, cleaning her teeth, changing her clothes. It would not have meant much to Jane ordinarily, but all these intimacies were significant to Maria. The woman smiled and wept at the same time; the pleasure of intimacy and touch warred with the acute embarrassment of being helpless before this American girl who was coming to mean so much to her and her child.

Maria's body ached; Jane had been warned that this might happen, and she knew it from personal experience. It hurt Maria to comb her hair, now, and Jane did it for her. Gradually Jane grew accustomed to their strange love. She almost resented the smugness of Maria's smile. But it wasn't smugness; it was amusement that she, Maria, understood perfectly how things stood, but Jane didn't, and there was no prospect of Jane's coming to that wisdom, at least not for another ten years, or so.

The sickness and nausea departed on the fourth day. The low-grade temperature remained until that night, when it finally left her. "Tomorrow we can start you on real food," Jane said.

"I want shower, Jane," Maria asked. She was a wonderful patient, but she kept pestering Jane about a shower.

"We'll see; how are you going to stand in the shower?"

"Maybe you help me!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you!"

"Yes!" said Maria, laughing merrily.

Once her throat was back to normal, Maria entertained Jane with stories; fairy tales and legends, for the most part, and she knew a huge variety of them. With Jane's help, her vocabulary was improving rapidly. She was blossoming, with the company, and the care and the attention, and the feeling in her heart, that she protected as if it was a precious treasure. Some of the stories were utterly and hopelessly romantic, and Jane would smile at the ending.

"You're laughing," Maria reproached her. "You don't understand love!"

Jane laughed out aloud then. "Some of them are so hokey!"

"Hokey?"

"I don't know; silly!"

Maria wanted to sleep cuddled with Jane, and Jane knew this. But the woman was acutely conscious of how sticky and disgusting she was—at least in her own estimation—and made herself suffer the torment of having Jane so close, but no closer. Once she bathed, Jane knew, neither of them could resist the temptation to sleep together, in both senses of the word.

"Can you be in love with three people at the same time?" asked Jane.

"Yes," said Mary-Ellen. She had called Jane, since Jane had been silent for so long. "As I understand the word, anyway; why?"

"Well, Maria, the one who I'm looking after..."

"That's only natural; I have crushes on my patients all the time! They're so pathetic and vulnerable, lying there..."

"Oh, this has been a long time coming."

"Hmm. And meanwhile you're humping Heather. Or getting humped."

"Well, yeah."

"Are you... in the business? The same as Heather?"

"Uh huh... a little deeper, maybe."

"So what's the problem? I thought it was a culture of unrestrained gratification!"

Jane felt annoyed. It seemed unfair for Mary-Ellen to throw that at her, since there really was no possible riposte to the accusation.

"I'm sorry; that was mean of me," said Mary-Ellen, quickly. "You're supposed to play with them, not fall in love, Jane."

"But I care about them; I worry about Heather, how's she managing without me; when I go home, I'll worry about Maria..."

"Welcome to the club!"

Jane could only chuckle; she couldn't think of anything to say.

"I'm sure Heather is okay; Maria's daughter went home with her, they'll look after each other."

"Heather is wonderful that way," Mary-Ellen said at once. "A strong sense of responsibility." Jane heard her choke briefly with emotion. She was getting a feel for Mary-Ellen's own tendency to feel responsible for people she had never even met. They had certainly been a well-matched pair.

"Listen... I'm dying to see you."

Jane laughed. "What am I getting into, here?"

"Nothing you can't handle."

"I haven't tangled with a doctor before!"

"Let me buy you lunch... and if you don't want to do anything except talk, that's all we'll do. I need a woman in my life... and it's been great to talk to you... over the phone... I can tell you anything, unlike my friends; somehow I have a rather judgmental gang of buddies right now. You know?"

"Yes. I've run away from home; I know a little of what you're saying."

"People think lesbianism is all about sex! It isn't. It isn't, at all."

"Mary-Ellen... don't fall apart on me, please. Where are you?"

"Oh... on the roof... "

"Of the hospital?" asked Jane, in alarm.

"Yes... people come up here to smoke."

"Are you smoking?"

"Why?"

"If you are, I probably won't meet with you for lunch, that's why."

"Thanks for being honest; no, I've never smoked. Neither has Gabe."

"I should have known."

"Will you call me?"

"Okay," said Jane.

—:—

## Lunch with Maria

Mary-Ellen seemed a ready-made fit, mentally. Like Heather, she was forthright, honest, but sensitive and generous. Every time they spoke, Jane was even more convinced that Heather and Mary-Ellen were a match made in heaven. Speaking to Mary-Ellen made clear to Jane volumes about Heather she had puzzled over. It was as if she was a puzzle-piece that revealed what Heather really was; the Heather she must have been once.

"The doctor?"

"Yeah," said Jane. Maria's eyes danced with mischief.

"Another admirer!"

"Kind of," Jane said, blushing. "Did Zsuszana call?"

"Not yet. They have gone out to eat, probably." Jane loved the way she said _probably._

"Sleep now; tomorrow you shower!"

"Hold my hand, Jane?" she asked, giggling. Maria was a hopeless flirt.

In the end, Zsuszana did call; Jane was impressed with the girl's sense of responsibility. She even quizzed Jane on how her mother was doing. She offered to come home at once, when she learned that the fever was gone, but Jane said she'd stay one more night and the following day. That was Friday, and Zsuszana would be home for the weekend. They had lost some revenue; normally Jane would have done a shoot of her on the weekend. She had to find a way of supplying them with an income without filling up the Internet with more and yet more pictures of the child.

"Sit up carefully," Jane instructed in the morning.

"I have to go pee," said Maria.

"All right, come on, then."

The sight of Maria's hair always aroused Jane. She was wearing a short nightie and panties, and she felt warm from being under the covers in bed. Jane had already turned up the heat.

Maria still could not stand by herself, but she could stand propped up against the doorway. In theory, she could shower by herself, but risked a fall while she washed herself. While she answered her call of nature, crouched over the commode, Jane assembled all the equipment: shampoo, soap lotion, towels, for both of them, several each; rubber slippers, a wrap for Maria. She glanced at Maria, who looked up at her, her eyes shining, a smile on her lips, ready to take a mischievous turn in a moment.

"First, you take off your clothes," Maria suggested, quite sensibly.

"Yeah," said Jane, peeling off her nightie. She usually undressed either in the dark, or in the bathroom alcove. Maria let out her breath in a hiss of appreciation. Jane looked at her, expecting mockery.

"I knew you were beautiful... but you... " she shook her head.

"Well, let's see how beautiful _you_ are," said Jane. "I'm the professional, remember?"

Maria wiped herself carefully, and Jane helped her up. She was light, fine-boned; no more than a hundred pounds. Jane noticed that her head was a little large for her body. She wondered whether the woman was highly intelligent. She was wide-hipped, but she had lost a lot of her fat, and her breasts drooped a little. But to Jane's biased eyes, she looked lovely.

Maria looked anxiously for the verdict in Jane's eyes. Apparently she was satisfied, because she smiled. Jane helped her into the tub, drew the shower curtain, and as Maria clung to her, got the water going at the right temperature.

It was a tender, slow ritual of cleansing, and establishment of intimacy. The first order of business was to get clean; if anything should happen, it would be tragic to still have not completed the cleaning part. Jane applied the lotion quickly and efficiently, and both of them washed different parts of Maria. Jane was impressed at how youthful her legs were; except for a few prominent veins, the woman had the body of someone much younger. Neither of them were self-conscious about Jane touching Maria; after the diarrhea, there was not a lot left in that area that Jane had not cleaned at length. Jane knelt to scrub Maria's feet and crotch, delicately cleaning away all the perspiration and body fluids that had accumulated over the week. Maria washed herself, and then laced her fingers into Jane's hair, her legs spread, her eyes closed in concentration, following the sensation of Jane's careful fingers in her mind, filling herself with the pleasure of it. Jane glanced at her face, briefly, and smiled softly at what she saw there. Maria's pubic hair was carefully shaved away, as a much younger woman would have. Jane idly wondered whether her own mother shaved. She slowly straightened upright.

"My angel," Maria whispered, standing on tiptoe to kiss Jane on the lips. She gently caressed Jane's breasts; that morning they seemed fuller than ever before, and Maria's touch stirred Jane deeply. Somehow Maria's own breasts seemed to come alive; they became full and firm, perky. She was sickeningly pale, but the lines of her body were pleasing, her face utterly lovely, her hair luxurious, gorgeous, silky.

Jane improvised a stool for Maria, and began to wash her hair. Here, Maria was the expert. "Hold me here; I will do," she instructed. Jane supported her by her shoulders, while Maria efficiently shampooed her hair, and they rinsed it out. Then coiling it carefully, she stood up for one last rinse of her body.

"I feel... wonderful... like just new born," exulted Maria, her face alight. "Jane... you are a beauty. No, don't wear clothes!"

"Oh, don't be silly!" Jane put on her wrap, despite Maria's protests.

Despite Maria's easy demeanor, Jane suspected that the woman would make love to Jane. The only doubt was when, and in what way. With Jane's help, she dressed herself: panties, bra, a slip, a comfortable dress, a little too old-fashioned to wear on the street, and then stockings.

"Here," said Maria, offering Jane a brand-new pair of silk stockings.

"What for? No, Maria; they're lovely, but I don't wear... "

"Please, my angel, be a woman for one day!"

"Stockings make me an angel?"

"Yes!" she laughed. She finished dressing, and allowed Jane to comb out her hair, seated on her bed. Then, together they changed the linen, Maria helping as much as she could. Except for being unsteady on her legs, she was fine.

"I help with morning meal," she said, "breakfast?"

"Yup. I take it, you're going to eat an egg!"

"Two!"

"Yikes!"

"Two yikes?"

"No, no, no; 'yikes' is like, 'my goodness!' "

"Aha. Yikes." She sliced up a pepper, while she pondered on that, and Jane cut up a green onion. Together they made a jolly little omelet, toasted some bread, fried some potatoes, and sat together and ate. For the first time Jane watched Maria eat properly, rather than peck at food politely.

"This is wonderful!" Jane exclaimed, her eyes alight.

"American food, no good," said Maria, not even amused. "Make me sick!"

"Well, obviously," said Jane, grimacing. Maria nodded, taking the point; if it _was_ food poisoning, it must have been something Maria fixed, but of course, the groceries were locally bought, thus American. They were now on a wavelength where Maria picked up on things like that routinely. She murmured something that sounded like a curse, but did sound rueful, too.

She did eat two eggs. Jane washed up. Maria watched, seated on the bed like a mermaid, her feet drawn up under her. Her long hair, carefully combed but still damp, made the impression even stronger. It was parted just off the center, almost Madonna-like, or like some ballerina, or Russian princess. She had made up her eyes, especially for Jane. Jane felt the electricity in the air; the moment approached.

"What?" demanded Jane, laughing, after everything was put away. She leaned against the table, out of Maria's reach.

"Bring for me the lipstick, my angel," she asked, her voice low, her smile somehow a little serious.

"Why?"

"I like to do makeup for you!"

"For you, you mean!"

"No, no, for you. I have, see?" She indicated her exotic eye-makeup, which was incredibly dramatic. Jane would never have allowed her to leave the apartment like that; the eye-shadow was put on as if for a ballet, for the swans.

Jane brought the lipstick over, feeling trapped. She sank on the bed, next to Maria, who carefully applied lipstick on Jane. Her eyes opened wide.

"Scorpia!" she breathed.

After a long time, Jane nodded. Maria shook her head in wonder. She reached to lay the lipstick on the table, and Jane did it for her.

"I lick, you?" Maria asked in a small voice.

"You _like_ me?"

"No, _lick_ ," she said again, showing the tip of her tongue. She took Jane's hands in hers.

"No; oh no, thanks, but no! Maria... "

It was impossible to stop her. Gently, ever so gently, she pushed Jane down on the bed, with new, fresh sheets on it, spread her legs, and crouched between Jane's thighs, licking her, ever so delicately.

It was a sensation different from anything Jane had ever known. The tonguing itself was really too light to bring Jane to a climax ordinarily. She longed to touch herself more firmly, to help herself along by rubbing herself where she knew it would speed her orgasm on. After all, she was an expert; nobody knew her body like she did! But every time, Maria captured her hands, and made love to them with her own. She had laid the groundwork long ago for this lovemaking; Maria had made love to Jane in certain ways for nearly a week. It was her heart, her brain that finally brought her to the sharp ecstasy she craved; it was her heart that opened to Maria's worship of her, and responded triumphantly.

She dragged herself alongside Jane, and as Jane jerked, the plaything of her delighted muscles, Maria stroked her breasts, squeezing them, sucking at them with her fingers. _She has done this before,_ Jane thought, even while her mind was not ready for thinking. _Many times. She's totally a lesbian. She might even be a prostitute_...

"How did you _do_ that?" gasped Jane, smiling.

"Did you like it? Was it fun?" asked Maria, softly, smiling back, her hand resting lightly on Jane's breast.

" _Fun_ isn't what I'd call it," Jane murmured; "It was like... being put through a blender, or something... "

Maria narrowed her eyes and smiled at her, her eyes laughing. How _could_ she laugh at a time like this? Jane's heart was heavy with the burden of the love she was trying not to feel.

"Don't laugh," said Jane, propping her head on one arm, looking into Maria's eyes. "This is serious!"

Maria turned to lie on her back.

"Okay," she said, looking into Jane's eyes. "I won't laugh."

Jane took a long breath.

"Look... you were ill, and I looked after you. I don't want to fall in love with you!"

"Okay," whispered Maria, her eyes brimming over, and a tear rolling into her ear. She awkwardly twisted her hands together on her stomach.

"You must be awfully lonely," murmured Jane, her heart full of pity, overriding her sense of feeling ill-used.

Maria shook her head at first, but then nodded, covering her eyes.

Jane mounted her gently, pulling her hands away, and kissing the tears in her eyes. Oh, her kisses were sweeter than wine; she never pushed, she only responded to Jane's own kisses, tenderly. There were little waves of passion, but nothing fiercely hot; as if their love was dying as it was born. They were both crying, and their faces were stained with Maria's brown and black eye shadow.

"We have an affair," Maria whispered to her, as they held each other tight. "A secret one!"

"Okay," whispered back Jane.

"Nobody know!"

"Yeah!"

"I love you, my angel," she whispered, shuddering on the brink of heartbreak.

"Don't cry, Maria," Jane said, "I won't ever turn my back on you, you know that!"

"I understand," said Maria.

There was the sound of feet on the stairs. Many feet.

Jane flew off the bed, and had a pile of tissues ready for Maria in less than a second. Maria laughed and laughed, cleaning off her make-up. Jane couldn't quite see the humor in it.

"Mama! Surprise!"

Maria laughed. She let fly a stream of Hungarian that made everyone chuckle, though only Zsuszana could understand her. "She says, we sound like Hippos, coming up the steps."

"That's it, exactly," said Jane, coming out of the bathroom, dressed.

The look in Zsuszana's eyes told Jane that the girl knew at least that Jane was a woman. How much more did she learn while at the house? Had the girls fooled around in front of her? Had she made the obvious assumption that they were a bunch of lesbians? Had she concluded that Jan had been humping her mother?

Apparently not. She appeared to be delighted at how well her mother looked. They hugged and cried, and talked in Hungarian at a terrific rate.

"I have to thank you," murmured Zsuszana to Jane privately. Her gratitude was genuine, but there was an awkwardness between them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jane took a deep breath, and told the truth: "I didn't want to hurt you."

The girl blushed deeply.

"Thank you for... I don't know... "

Jane turned away. She knew it would appear as if she was disgusted, but she could not look in her eyes and say she had been disgusted, or that she had _not_ been disgusted... it was better not to say anything at all.

CHAPTER SIX

# Mary-Ellen

## Jane Has Lunch

"Hi, it's Jane," she said, her heart beating fast.

"Oh! How have you been?" Mary-Ellen asked, breathlessly.

"Wonderful! And you?"

"Out of breath; I ran up to the roof, again!"

"I'm going to take _you_ out to lunch; this way, if you don't like the looks of me, at least you got a lunch out of it!"

"Where are you?"

"In my back yard; the sun is shining, the sky is clear, there isn't any smog... life is good!"

"Oh, I want to see you so bad!"

"I'm not a great beauty, you know, Mary-Ellen. I'm only a photographer."

"That's not what Heather said, when we broke up." Jane was shocked silent. "She said you were an angel in disguise."

Jane laughed, and Mary-Ellen joined in. They planned to meet for a late lunch far away, near the airport, where her hospital was.

After agonizing for a long while about what to wear, Jane finally wore her jeans, and a pretty silk shirt, over a camisole. Her hair was now grown to shoulder-length, and Jane inserted a barrette, to make it look a little more feminine. She touched her lips with a little color, put on a light jacket, and headed out. Everyone was out for the day, and she had cleared her calendar. She prayed Heather would not show up at the restaurant.

She had no idea what the mysterious Mary-Ellen looked like, but she had been told that she would be wearing a wrap-skirt and a pink blouse. Presently, Jane saw a figure walking towards her, wearing a wrap-skirt and a pretty pink-and cream top. Jane was standing a little away from the entrance, but their eyes met, and they smiled.

"Jane? Hi, I'm Mary-Ellen!" She came over, holding her hand out.

She was a girl-next-door type; a strawberry-blonde with blue eyes and freckles, a friendly grin, tiny hands with nails cut short, like Jane, her figure a little hard to see under her loose clothing.

"You must think I'm crazy," she said softly, her grin giving way to a serious look. Jane suddenly realized that she wore glasses. They were hard to see, they were so understated. They were still holding hands.

"No, not at all," said Jane quietly. "I wanted to meet you, too."

She smelled nice, a musky, spicy fragrance, very delicate.

"You look exactly the way I imagined," Mary-Ellen said, then contradicted herself, "No, you don't; I could never have imagined your face!"

Jane laughed.

"It's kind of mass-produced," she said lightly. She had always thought her face plain, and often looked in the mirror for any sign of character there.

"Mass-produced!" Mary-Ellen laughed. She could not be more than a couple of years older than Jane, in her mid-twenties. She must be the youngest doctor alive, Jane thought.

"Yes, I have the same face as all my brothers and sisters!"

It was disconcerting to have Mary-Ellen gaze with rapture on her face in the middle of the street. When she stopped grinning, she began to look pretty. Her eyes were a startling shade of blue, and those freckles were absolutely everywhere; Jane wanted to know how far down they went. She was already having impure thoughts about her lunch date.

"Let's go in," said Mary-Ellen. In person, she had a more girlish voice than she had on the phone, where she sounded mature and in charge. They went in, and were shown to their table. It was an interesting restaurant where you could get lunch in a lot of different styles, and Mary-Ellen often ate there, she said, "But the problem is... " she looked around carefully, trying to spot any of her colleagues, "I don't want to run into anyone, least of all Gabe."

"Why, I'm a former patient!"

Mary-Ellen grinned, destroying the beauty of her face. She must have seen something in Jane's eyes, because she stopped grinning at once.

"Nobody likes my grin," she said, chuckling. "I'll tell you what's good: it's the avocado and turkey sandwich."

Jane nodded. They ordered, and as promised, the sandwich was not only good, it arrived in no time. Mary-Ellen leaned forward, listening to every word Jane said, almost sucking the thoughts out of her head. Jane found herself telling her everything, except for details of her present life, which she carefully kept out of the conversation.

Mary-Ellen was from the Midwest, initially, and then from rural New York. She had graduated from high-school at sixteen, from College at nineteen, and from medical school at twenty-four. She had discovered her sexuality in medical school, but the sex-life of a medical student was complicated; there was too much politics, and her attempts at seducing nurses had been cruelly rebuffed. She had then met two wonderful women, a patient, who was a kindergarten teacher, who had gotten married, and Heather, who, in a manner of speaking, had also gotten married.

When she was serious, she was really beautiful. The freckles were a distraction, breaking the delicate lines of her face, but her eyes —and her eyebrows— were fine, as were her lips, which were also freckled, but which were beautiful when she spoke. Jane loved to watch her mouth. She enunciated carefully, and her eyes danced all over the place as she talked, like a little girl. That was it: she was a little girl, all growed up, looking good enough to eat. Jane could almost imagine her as a candy-striper, her hair in two pigtails, in thick-rimmed glasses, with a clipboard in her hand, beetling around the hospital corridors, busy as anything.

"I'm in the mood to play hooky," she said, trying not to grin, for Jane's sake. "Let's get a packet of candy cigarettes, and go straight to a motel!"

Jane laughed until her eyes were tearing.

They did go to a hotel. It looked suspicious, without any baggage, but the clerk took it in stride. They let themselves in, Mary-Ellen's breath shallow, her hands unsteady as she used the electronic key, having to do it four times. Once Jane was inside, she carefully shut the door.

"Make love to me," she asked, her head lowered, giving Jane the role of aggressor.

Jane put her arms around her; she was trembling. Gradually, she calmed down, and became soft in Jane's arms.

"Do you really want sex, or do you just want to cuddle a little?" Jane asked softly, bemused. Her hands came up slowly, to caress Jane's shoulders.

"I want to know that you're a woman... I want to feel like a woman... I want to be... skin to skin with a woman... I want to feel your breasts, Jane... you need not... _fuck_ me; only please _touch_ me!"

Once Jane understood her, it wasn't so hard; in a sense Maria had taught her the kind of lovemaking Mary-Ellen needed: tenderness, sensuousness, caressing, worship. She was freckled everywhere the sun touched her body, in a vee down between her breasts, a little on her belly, the line where her shorts ended, on down to her feet. It was soft, soft, like angels, like little girls exploring; she delighted in Jane, and Jane delighted in her; the pleasuring of fairies.

Mary-Ellen pulled away with a huge sigh, her face all smiles, like a cat, her eyes closed tight as she stretched luxuriously. Jane propped her head on her hand, and watched in fascination. Finally she turned on her side, and breathed "Jane!" and ran her fingers over Jane's body.

"How is Heather," she asked, her eyes solemn. "Tell me all about her, your impressions of her... anything! Everything."

"You're still in love with her!"

She nodded. "Did you tell her?"

"No... should I have?"

She shrugged. "I want her to know that... I'm still here; I haven't slept with anyone but Gabe and you... you know the rest!"

"Remind me!"

"Jane... I want a woman... I need a woman, someone I can respect, someone I can trust, someone pretty... like you... or Heather; does that sound depraved?"

"No, Mary-Ellen."

"Call me 'M-E'; it's shorter."

Jane smiled. There was something utterly childlike and appealing about M-E; Jane wanted badly to add her to their little menagerie on W. Chestnut, but she could see that she was a one-woman woman; if Heather went back to her, she would only let Jane in her bed as an act of kindness. In addition, there was just so much that their relationship could stretch, back in the house; Arthur was pushing it to its limits.

"I'll tell her, love," Jane said, taking her hand and caressing it.

"You're a sweet, gentle girl," Mary-Ellen said, dreamily.

There was a silence, as Jane drew her close, feeling her heart thumping. She could easily, easily fall in love with her.

"Say something," Jane said softly.

"What?"

"Anything... tell me about work."

She did. She did whatever Jane wanted: Jane wanted to kiss, and they kissed; Jane wanted her to make love to her in a certain specific way, and she did it, eagerly. They made love for hours. The only limit was that Mary-Ellen had to be home before seven, which meant she had to leave around five.

Once they finished sex, and they were resting, Mary-Ellen climbed on Jane's stomach, and kissed her. Jane could barely stand it; she was thanking her for coming out to her. It seemed so strange, when it was Jane who felt she had used Mary-Ellen. Thinking back, their pleasure-taking had been mutual, but it was Mary-Ellen who had acted out her thanks to Jane.

"You've given me far more than I gave you," Jane said to her.

She looked at Jane in surprise, sitting back.

"That's not how love is; it's equal on both sides!"

"But M-E... you don't love me!"

"Well, I do, kind of."

Jane felt a horrible emptiness inside. She realized that she wanted M-E to love her, and her only, and at the same time she realized that it was a selfish desire. M-E had given pleasure to Jane unstintingly, and there had been _something_ between them: a kind of love. Jane was getting greedy.

Jane threw herself on her belly, and covered her face.

"What's the matter?" Mary-Ellen asked repeatedly, picking at Jane's face, trying to turn it, to look at her. She began to sniff.

"Nothing," Jane said mournfully. She jumped out of bed, and began to look for her clothes. "I'm miserable, you're miserable... Heather... Heather's probably miserable; god, I'm depressed!"

"I'm _not_ miserable! You've given me _so much love_ , and... _caring!"_ Her face was all scrunched-up, like a little girl about to cry. "Jane... please be happy; I can't leave you all upset!"

Jane looked at her, her heart sore, aching. She knew it was all wrong, and she knew she would be over it very soon. But her feelings burst out of her.

"It's just that... I like you so much... you're so perfect, it hurts to not have you any more!"

Mary-Ellen's face gradually cleared. She sighed, found her panties, and picked them up. She began to dress slowly.

"This doesn't have to be the last time, Jane... but I'm afraid that it'll be... impossibly hard on you. Yes, I could easily fall for you; but if _you_ fall for _me_... I would be hurting Heather, too." She looked at Jane, and her eyes were too intelligent for Jane to deny her logic. "You've been hurt once, Jane; I have been hurt three times. You have to learn just how much you need, the bare minimum, to be happy." She dressed carefully, adjusting her skirt just so. "We women hate to be two-timed, don't we! We do. Well... I want to be your mistress, Jane, not your wife; but I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to hurt her, I don't want to be hurt... I can give you love... I know you don't need it, you're surrounded by love, I can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you talk. I don't want to drag you down, to make you want something that will destroy three, maybe four, lives... Jane? Say something!"

"We should have just cuddled!"

"Why? I don't belong to anyone, you know!"

"But I do!"

And that was the fact of it. Mary-Ellen was the temptation she should have avoided; Maria was nothing. Somehow, Maria had seduced Jane in such a way that Jane could go back to her lovers feeling whole. Mary-Ellen had failed to do that; Jane felt as if she was leaving something behind.

"You don't have to come to me," Mary-Ellen said, suddenly. "If you only call me; I can live with just . . . an occasional call, Jane!"

"Maybe," Jane said, unable to resist kissing her several times, "every once in a while..."

It was exactly so; Mary-Ellen wanted to be Jane's mistress, a kind of Yet Another Woman. Just as the situation baffled men in her position, it baffled her.

—:—

## Mary-Ellen's Problem

Only when she arrived home, and saw the beloved faces of Deanna and Heather, that the solution presented itself. It was the most honest solution in the world.

"Where have you been?" demanded Heather, not accusingly, but with concern, seeing the misery on Jane's face and in her eyes.

"I... I went out to meet up with Mary Ellen," Jane said, looking at her feet. This was the best way, but by no means the easiest.

When she looked up, finally, the girls were looking at her, Deanna in alarm, Heather rather expressionlessly.

"What did she want?" asked Heather, quietly.

"She... she... it was kind of a... tryst," Jane stammered, not avoiding Heather's eyes, but not able to meet it steadily. "She's... she's in a bad way, like you said... she wanted some..."

"Yeah, I know; she's gotta have some pussy."

"Well... I'm it, until you see her, Heather." Jane hadn't guessed how miserable she would feel. "She begged and begged, and I agreed to meet her, Heather; she said to say she hasn't been sleeping around; just Gabe and... and me!"

Heather looked bleak.

"You going back to her?"

"Like... like now?"

"Have you set up another date?"

"No... not yet. If she asked me, Heather, I'd go; she's impossible to resist!"

Jane went into the kitchen, the others following. She sat down, and tears poured from her eyes.

"Dee... you have to forgive me; I kind of proposed to her, but she turned me down; she still cares for Heather! I feel so sorry for her... and for you two, and for myself..."

Jane sobbed.

Deanna and Heather sat and waited silently until Jane finished sobbing.

"She was absolutely honest," Jane said finally, having dried her face, but her eyes still thoroughly red. "But she's very attractive, and loving, and sweet; I couldn't bear to leave her." Jane's voice broke.

"Yes; she's like that," said Heather, hoarsely, without any condemnation. "She's wonderful."

"Why'd you leave her, Heather?" Deanna asked, softly.

Heather glared at Jane.

"You're every bit as wonderful as she is!" she snapped. "Give yourself some fucking credit!"

Jane trembled, trying to piece together what she was being told.

"I love you too, darling; but... she loves you so much! How much would it hurt to see her once in a while?"

Heather shook her head. "I couldn't! I was torn, and I thought a clean break was best."

Jane was past enduring any more complicated thinking. "I'm wrung out," she confessed, "I'm going to dream of her all night... I better sleep alone. I feel such a... _pushover_."

"You're not. She's just hard to resist."

"She's not a scheming person! She just wants to give, and give and give!"

A flinty look came into Deanna's eye.

"No, that's garbage, and here's why; love means responsibility. She should get herself some other woman; why does it have to be either of you? Seduce one of her nurses, and she's fine! Why does she have to break up what we have? How hard have you worked, at being loving, and accommodating; where does she get off, trying to steal Jane?"

"She says it doesn't work with nurses."

"It really doesn't," confirmed Heather, nodding. "Nurses are picky."

"Tell you what. _I'll_ go next time she gets in heat" offered Deanna.

Jane breathed a prayer to her guardian angel, for having got off so easily. She did dream of Mary-Ellen, and in her dreams Jane was always looking for a flaw in her, and they always ended up quarreling, and Mary-Ellen in tears.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bonanza

Sasha

Things slowly settled back to normal, except in one way: Scorpia was becoming so popular that Jane had to deal with a new set of problems. They had to decided what, indeed, Scorpia was, and how she would relate to the website, and how they would handle such things as interviews, guest appearances, endorsements, requests for photographs, and so forth. They also needed a consistent persona for her, opinions, a story; she also needed a future.

Fortunately for Scorpia, the others had been thinking about this, too; _all_ the others, including Arthur, Isabella, and Maria.

It was Deanna who came up with the technical help for what they needed: she contacted a cousin, who happened to be a lawyer. He was small-time, working in a little town in upper Massachusetts, but he was intelligent, and relatively liberal-minded. After Deanna cautiously revealed that she was a glamour model, he only laughed, and asked her if she was paid well. "The photographers have it all their own way, most of the time," he said.

"I—er, my girlfriend is one of the photographers, Sasha; if I don't get treated fairly, I won't go to anyone else."

"She's pretty decent?"

"The best! We're kind of... living together. You know what I mean?"

After a brief pause, he said softly, "I'm okay with that, if I understand you right. What's her name?"

"Jane. It's not her real name; but she's in trouble with her folks, who're very straight-laced. Sasha, can we see you? We have a really crazy situation, and we need expert advice!"

"Are you in trouble of any sort?"

"No. We want to start a business venture."

"Hey, Cous, are you seriously, you know, in the biz?"

"Sure!"

"Then how come I haven't seen you, like, on the Net?"

"Look for Deanna; I'm everywhere. Always in good taste."

"Oh man, you didn't even change your name!"

"Stupid, huh?"

"Well... I guess it worked... nobody knows where you are..."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm Googling you... hey-hey!"

"Stop it!"

"Dee, you look gorgeous... you really do."

"Sasha, you stop drooling this minute. You're like my—I don't know—my _brother_ or something, for heaven's sake!"

He'd always had an enormous crush on her, and now he was her willing slave. His wife was a beauty too, Dee said, but that didn't stop Sasha's roving eye.

They met in a private room in a restaurant, all dressed perfectly respectably, and Sasha was completely charmed by Jane and Heather. Arthur was also there, looking very bashful, as always. After a long lunch, where they told Sasha everything, he showed how sharp he was. There were all sorts of angles, and all sorts of creative ways of getting around the problems. While Jane tried to follow as well as she could, it was Heather and Deanna, and to a lesser extent Arthur, who provided most of the input. They managed to come up with a way that Jane could own the trade name 'Scorpia,' as well as to play the role of Scorpia, or assign it to anyone she chose, and demand it back as she pleased; they could incorporate Scorpia, in order to merchandise the name and persona of Scorpia as necessary and desired. They would be a partnership, and he described the various ways they could protect Jane's identity, and so on and so forth. They could include him as a partner, and he would waive the legal costs. "I won't charge you anything, anyway, Cous," he said, and they could see that he meant it. He had drooled over nude images of Deanna, but Deanna in person totally captivated him with her vitality, and how far she was from his image of a nude model.

"You're in," said Deanna, nodding with Jane. "We're not going to be huge, but it seems important to take charge of things before we lose control!"

"Good thinking," said Sasha.

"We won't make a mint. We're not in it for the money," said Heather.

"That's what you say now; wait until the shekels start rolling in!"

Sasha glanced at Jane, and she smiled back, hoping she didn't look to him like a money-hungry siren, or whatever.

They took him home, and he was impressed both by the wonderful house, and by the modest lifestyle they seemed to have adopted. Jane explained that the house had been given to her by a friend of her mother's, who had gone to live in Florida. She had to pay the taxes, and keep it in good repair, and it was costing her a mint. Sasha said he would show her how to do her taxes so that some of that expense would be used to advantage. "The wealthy do it all the time; you _have_ to do it to survive, Jane; and it is for people like you that the laws were supposedly passed!"

"Stay for supper!" Jane said, overwhelmed with gratitude.

"But we just had lunch!" they said, making Jane blush. It was clear that Jane and Sasha were very taken with each other, despite all their other commitments.

Though they each thought that Sasha might possibly betray them in some dastardly way, he did not. There were at least one honest lawyer out there, namely Sasha Abrahamov

After an awkward start, Jane's relationship with Maria and Zsuszana attained a kind of normalcy. No longer did the girl pester Jane to go out to movies with her, but instead she tentatively experimented with touching Jane. Annoying though it was, Jane was thankful that the kid was never disgusting; her touches were always gentle, caressing; instead of grabbing at Jane's breast, she would touch her arm, and gently slide her hand onto her breast, watching Jane's eyes for clues that she really _really_ wanted her to take her hand off. And sometimes it was so, and she took her hand away with a soft apology.

One day, Jane was so pleased by Zsuszana, her grace, her tactfulness, her intelligence, all her good qualities, in fact, that she told her that she was perfect. "Always be this way," she said, her eyes shining; "One day you will be a wonderful person! I know it; I just know it."

"Thank you for saying that," said Zsuszana, her expression gravely serious. "It means a lot. Everybody says: beautiful, pretty, stuff like that, they don't care about what I feel inside!" She searched Jane's face for understanding. "You're very patient... with the little things I do to you... I do it for love, you know? Or something like love... I don't have a dad, but I have you, and I'm lucky!"

Maria had been reading a magazine in the living room, and she came up to them at the tail end of the conversation. She took her daughter's hand, and squeezed it in support. She told her something in Hungarian, her eyes shining, and then she kissed her. And Zsuszana, in turn, kissed Jane lightly, on the cheek. And the look Maria gave Jane was a kiss in itself.

—:—

## The Oil Study

Jane had a wonderful idea.

"I'm going to do a fantastic oil study. Really, really classic, but a little over the top; kind of soft porn. Then I'll sell limited edition prints of it!"

"Hey!"

"What's it going to be of? What's the subject?"

Jane thought long and hard, and came up with a scene. It would be a nude girl, kneeling in front of, and holding, an ornate mirror, studying herself.

"Brilliant!" breathed Heather, licking her lips, her eyes shining. "I'll do it, if you want!"

"I imagined a girl with a beautiful, thick rope of braided hair, with wisps of it around her face, and enormous grey eyes," Jane said.

"Do a composite; my hair, her body and eyes," suggested Deanna.

It was decided. They headed out to look for a suitable mirror, and a wonderful mirror was found in an antique shop by the sea. They needed a nice rug, the perfect lighting, the perfect angle, the perfect pose, the perfect hair, and the perfect drapes behind the mirror. Jane took just four shots, two of Heather, and two of Deanna. The angle required getting the camera in the mirror, but that was no problem. Deanna's hair was too wavy; that was no problem. Her head was the wrong shape; that was no problem. Jane wanted the hair closer to her own hair color, a kind of brassy, streaky mid-brown. No problem. She wanted the girl to be slightly crouched, as a girl would be, intent on looking at her body, yet straight enough to display her musculature. She wanted the girl's sex to be interesting, but not too horribly disgusting. Again, Jane decided she could take elements of each girl, to combine them just so that the picture would have a good focus.

The project was begun out of sight, in a corner of the studio, since Zsuszana was now in the habit of walking around the studio, looking at anything Jane might be working on. As it happened, everyone spotted it within days.

It took a long time, because Jane had decided to use a rather large canvas size, and to use a wide range of brushes, from large, flat brushes, to tiny little brushes for detailed work. It would not be photographic; it would have the elasticity of a true oil painting; she would emphasize red reflections coming from the red drapes, green and yellow illumination from the window, and blue-white light from an unseen source above.

The two girls had posed _exactly_ the same way, despite their very different physiques. Their body colors were equally different, but Jane was prepared for that; she would use an intermediate color between Deanna's peaches-and-cream and Heather's olive-tan. The expression on Heather's face, revealed in the mirror, was utterly convincing. The softness of Deanna's features had their own appeal; and Deanna had the more young-looking facial contours.

Every time Zsuszana came by, she had to run to the canvas, and give a low exclamation of admiration and awe. Isabella was silent, but her eyes spoke volumes about her opinion. Finally it appeared finished, but Jane wasn't done with it. The colored highlights were brushed on with a delicacy Jane never knew she had in her. She added detail with the tiniest of her brushes, finally covering every iota of the pink underlay with brown, or red, or black, or green.

"I love her hair," said Zsuszana, in reverent tones, when Jane was finally done. The girl was a beauty, her lips, her eyes, her breasts, her body, all perfect in their own ways. Heather had tears in her eyes; it was too beautiful. "I'm in love," she said softly. Jane couldn't look at the painting anymore; she could only bear to watch the others, and smile her tremulous smile, fearful that closer scrutiny would reveal some flaw. But there was no flaw.

An image was made with the best equipment they could beg, borrow, or steal. Arthur advised about ways of making sure the image, as displayed on the web, could not be stolen in place of the prints. Sasha made sure that the models were certified properly, just in case there was some question about it. Finally, they found a printer who would make the prints. An initial roll out of 500 prints were prepared for sale. They were large, 40" prints.

The first one was sold on auction for almost $600. Jane was pleased. The second sold for more, and the last for $5000. Jane had signed it, and autographed each print in ink. They were suddenly the owners of a vast sum of money.

Jane gave a generous sum to Heather and Deanna, despite their vigorous refusal. "It's a matter of principle," she insisted. She gave a generous gift to Arthur, for his help, gifts to the printers, and others who had helped, above and beyond what they had charged her, which had been modest. With the rest, Sasha set up a foundation for her, which could invest the money, and give grants to anyone she pleased.

It was the painting that kept on giving. A second roll out was done, half the size, and the prints sold for between $200 and $600 each. Accusations of breaking the pornography laws were made, and easily disposed of. Letters and photographs poured in from excited teenagers, wanting to pose for Jane. Arthur agreed to oversee the project, with the understanding that Jane would have to approve a second rollout of the large-sized prints, if any.

Afraid of the consequences of being identified, Jane had signed the painting Jane Doe, which had then been photographed, and all the prints, of course, had this peculiar signature at the bottom. Arty was in charge of the auctioning arrangements, for which he set up an account with a well-known Internet auction website, and Jane had nothing to do with the account. All the correspondence from hysterical fans of the artwork was mostly through e-mail, and an occasional piece of paper mail was forwarded by the auction website, all of which Jane read conscientiously at the outset. But soon it became predictable and dull, and she gave it up.

—:—

## Helping Mary-Ellen

Jane called Mary-Ellen, who answered with as much excitement as ever. Jane was alone, and she could talk to her at length. She told her what she had done.

"I confessed as soon as I got home," she said.

"Well... I guess I told you that would be okay... Was she mad?"

"Just... very sad," said Jane.

Mary-Ellen said nothing.

"Mary-Ellen?"

"Will you all gang up on me?"

"No; I'm on your side. I can't think of you as a woman-destroying vampire."

"Is that what they think?" she asked, clearly distressed. On the phone, as always, she sounded more controlled, less emotional. But there certainly was emotion.

"They just can't see why you chose me! You're an attractive girl, M-E; I don't think you mean to be; it's just that you have a... loving, affectionate, attractive personality!"

"I didn't choose you, Jane; you just fell into my hands! I wasn't looking for someone with whom I could destroy a—a home, I suppose; I just wanted—someone nice, to... you know."

"I understand." Jane felt tears coming on. "I—I think I'm over the madness I felt. I still have feelings for you, but simpler, just a kind of longing..."

"Oh Jane!"

"Well... you're officially a heartbreaker, I guess!"

There was a long silence.

"I guess it's better not to meet, then; we could just talk for a while!"

Jane smiled, despite the ache she felt to be with the sweet, unavailable siren. There was nothing more devastating than innocence, and she really had no hidden agenda. She just wanted to feel up some willing girl, until her Heather came back to her.

"If you change your mind about Heather, you know whom to call!"

She laughed, like flowers, over the phone. Then she said softly, "I dreamed of you... for a couple of weeks... I guess it was natural; I hadn't been with a woman since..."

"The New Year."

"Christmas, actually."

There was another awkward silence.

"You've become sort of a project of ours. We think we've found a volunteer to go out with you."

"Oh. Is she nice? I mean, clean, intelligent, someone I can stand?"

"Yes, yes and yes, and she's really beautiful. She's one of the best. If you play your cards right, she may be a long-term prospect."

"Oh, when can I meet her?" Mary-Ellen was excited, and Jane felt a strange let-down. She had hoped that she had meant something special to her.

"I'll have her call. May I give her this number?"

"Jane, she shouldn't call me at home; Gabe would be furious."

"About this time?"

"Yeah, this is the best. What's she like?"

"Blonde, green-eyed, voluptuous, a real charmer. Long, wavy hair. I love her dearly."

"Oh." There was a silence. "I think I've seen her."

"How do you know?"

"There's a girl like that who was in a girl-girl spread with Heather. Deanna."

"That's her, all right. Well, she wants to see for herself how devastating you are."

"She looks a bit of a flirt."

"Oh. You have a no-flirts clause?"

She laughed. Then she thought a while.

"I... just don't want to sleep with someone who's—cynical."

Jane found herself shaking her head in denial.

"No, darling; her only fault is that she's protective of Heather and me. If she doesn't like you, you'll find out in seconds. She'll be perfectly polite, but she'll say no. This is a gem of a girl; my only fear is that she'll fall for you, and then..."

"She won't fall for me."

"I fell for you!"

"We sort of fell temporarily for each other. We're not in love, Jane; I long for female company, and I thoroughly enjoyed yours, and I like you a lot. But I know a single afternoon is not a basis for falling in love. And you: you feel sorry for me; you may think I've been wronged; I'm sort of pathetic, because I can't get a date. It looks like love, and it's a kind of brotherly love, but it isn't falling in love. It just isn't, Jane, and I'm not just trying to snow you."

"Be gentle with her."

"Listen, I'll try... a prostitute or something. I don't care to be set up as some kind of _femme fatale_."

"Mary-Ellen, I'm sorry! I care for Dee; I can't help it!"

"I'll decide when she calls. Goodbye, Jane. Call me when you're feeling better."

Jane felt like a jerk. It was hard to learn that she couldn't have everything she wanted all the time. Mary-Ellen was an elusive ideal that would never be hers; Jane had money, notoriety, love; she just could not add to that list the pleasure of healing Mary-Ellen's broken heart permanently.

Deanna called, and Mary-Ellen replied cautiously but not with hostility.

"I... Jane said that you'd—appreciate a little female company on an afternoon. I don't do this all the time, er, Mary-Ellen; Jane said you were sweet, and... someone worth meeting."

"Are you Deanna?"

"Uh huh, yes."

"Well... let me buy you lunch, and... maybe we can decide afterwards?"

"Okay... I guess today isn't a good day, huh?"

"It could be... I guess..."

"You don't sound very keen!"

"I ended up hurting Jane, and... maybe that should have been a lesson to me..."

Deanna felt a little remorseful at the offhand tone she had been adopting so far.

"Look, I'm going to try to give you a chance; I'm not the incredible lover Jane is; but I'm a little older, and I've been around a little longer; I think I can handle myself. Tell me when."

"Come on over," Mary-Ellen said.

This time, it was Deanna who walked up, to find Mary-Ellen waiting for her. Once they were face-to-face, Deanna abandoned her hard-as-nails manner, and was her usual charming self. Mary-Ellen decided that this might work out.

Deanna was an animated, outgoing person, a contrast to Jane. She made Mary-Ellen smile. She was a good listener, too; there was a lot more to the girl than met the eyes, Mary-Ellen decided. They laughed at the same things, deplored the same things, had the same generosity of spirit, and, she discovered, shared an affection and admiration for Jane.

"She was that cut up," Deanna said, looking at Mary-Ellen with just a hint of steel in her eye. "That's why I offered to come and take you out; Jane is too... soft-hearted to be able to handle... this... emotionally. I might not be _much_ better, but I think I'll do a little better."

"The photos don't do you justice," Mary-Ellen said.

Deanna blushed.

"She was new at her job," she said.

"The photos can never do you justice," Mary-Ellen said.

"Didn't you like them at all?"

Mary-Ellen sighed and nodded.

"Yes; I must admit, they looked... _sincere_ , at any rate!"

"That's all I hope for," Deanna said earnestly. "Other similar sequences look utterly contrived. We were both sick of seeing those kinds of spreads."

"Yes, at least you succeeded in that. And now you're lovers."

"We're... the three of us are together; yes."

"It must be hard!"

Deanna looked right into her eyes. "We love each other... we share everything... we work hard to make each other feel better... it's three people who care for each other, and want to protect what they have together."

Mary-Ellen swallowed.

"You still want to?" She meant: did Deanna want to make love to her.

"Do you?"

"Yes... I'm willing to take the risk."

They found a hotel—a different one—and checked in. Mary-Ellen was a little more in control this time.

"What do you want to do? Remember, I'm just a model, not a prostitute!"

"Maybe some kissing... some petting... you set the speed."

"You want to... undress?"

"If that's okay?"

Deanna nodded. Mary-Ellen watched, fascinated. The woman was a beauty by any measure. Over lunch she had come to respect and acquire a liking for her. The coy way she removed her bra made Mary-Ellen's pulse race. She had large, full, natural magnificent breasts. She reclined on the bed, watching Mary-Ellen fumbling with her clothes.

"Do you hate those freckles, or do you like them?" Deanna asked, smiling.

"Oh... they're just me; I only hate them if somebody decides they look ugly on me! Most people think they're cute."

"You're right; they're you..."

"I'm ready," said Mary-Ellen, her eyes enormous.

"Come, let me hold you," said Deanna, softly.

Their lovemaking was smooth, effortless; it was as if they were two sides of the same coin, more sensuous than passionate, considerate and responsive, more eager to give than receive. They made love without noise, with only whispered words of caution or encouragement, and sometimes a tender word, when their sensations became unbearably sweet. Mary-Ellen sank into the cradle of Deanna's body, Deanna's sweet face burned into her memory. Deanna continued to stroke her, gently combing her fingers through Mary-Ellen's hair.

"Thanks," said Mary-Ellen to Deanna. "You have no idea how much it meant to me!"

"Yes, I do; you have a very expressive face," said Deanna softly. Her smile was simple, affectionate, accepting. It was a relief to have such an undemanding companion.

Deanna knew now that Mary-Ellen was a little in love with Jane, too, and Jane with her. It felt strange that they both loved the same two women. Somehow, though, what they felt for each other stopped at the level of mutual comfort. They never spoke of being in love, or being unwilling to part. For whatever reason, they were perfect for what Mary-Ellen needed, and they parted with joy, and eagerness to see each other again.

"Well?"

"She's sweet, girls, just really, really sweet!" Deanna slipped onto the couch, and stretched out luxuriously. "I could see falling for her, but... I just didn't!"

—:—

## The Year of Scorpia

It was the Year of Scorpia.

The first thing that happened was that another Metal Convention opened in Cleveland, Ohio, and our friends took a week off to go, thinking they would stay the second week if it looked promising. Then Scorpia got a special invitation to attend, with the offer of a room at the convention center itself, if she would fly there herself.

The girls told all their models about the convention. They promised to bring lots of photos for Zsuszana and her mother; but Isabella insisted on going.

The first day was a lot of fun, going round greeting friends they had known from before. Scorpia was in full form, with an audacious vinyl costume, and a scary-looking whip in her hand. Everybody kept asking about it, and Jane simply smiled and said, "This thing? It's just for fun! For protection, actually. No, it's for aggression. When I'm in the mood!"

Mostly, Jane was simply herself, except that she spoke in a slow drawl, and wouldn't speak until everybody else shut up. If she was interrupted, she was immediately silent, looking pointedly at the culprit with a tiny smile. People soon learned to ask a question, and give her time to answer.

The questions never ended. Jane expressed opinions that were, generally speaking, ultra liberal. Scorpia couldn't stand stupidity, lying, hypocrisy, corruption in government, bad taste, loud women, loud men, ugly costumes, ugly music, and noisy transport. She did like men, women, children, horses, sheep, aluminum-sheet-metal clothing, vinyl, sex, privacy, and silence when she was talking. If she was interrupted too many times, she simply left.

Jane checked-in twice, once as herself, with the other girls, and once as Scorpia. Isabella kept wanting to see Jane, but Deanna told her that Jan had family in Cleveland, or an old lover, or something, and would be coming by later, or the next day, or whatever. Whenever she was off-duty with the Scorpia costume, Jane made a point of looking up Isabella. On one occasion, they dressed Heather up as Scorpia and had her come by while Jane was talking to Isabella, just so it was established that Jane couldn't _possibly_ be her. Finally, Scorpia had a noticeable mole on her chin, applied carefully with glue.

The very first night, Scorpia picked Isabella as her dance partner. She found that the girl could really dance. There were competing celebrities; Scorpia was by no means the only metal personality. But she was the best-liked, and certainly the best dancer. The best couple and best dancer award was a foregone conclusion.

All Scorpia's costumes were in her own room, locked in trunks. The girls and a number of well-wishers had worked on them for months. There was a fabulous suit that was all sheer in front, with demi-bra-cups and a codpiece in vinyl, and all vinyl in back, with a flared conical skirt, and all the usual paraphernalia that goes with typical fetish costumes.

Scorpia sweetly asked Isabella to dance again the second night. Isabella was looking sensational in a tiny silver skirt, and an imaginative chain-mail top. In character, Scorpia began to flirt with Isabella, to find the girl responding eagerly! Isabella kissed Scorpia shyly, at first, then with increasing enthusiasm, until Scorpia said, "The lipstick, honey; watch the lipstick!" The best part was when Isabella rubbed herself against the codpiece, giggling happily.

Isabella was just a beautiful child. She was perfect— _too_ perfect. Jane had taken several hundred photos of her, and she was perfect in every one: perfect skin, perfect figure—a kind of androgynous, slim-breasted, moderately wide-shouldered look, with hips the same width as her shoulders, arms a tad on the thin side of perfect physique, a perfectly hairless body, a vagina with just a hint of labia showing; a perfect navel, incredibly perfect legs, perfect lips, perfect grey-green eyes, and so on and so forth. It was rather a coup to have her to dance with, given that she could dance so beautifully.

The interesting development was that a certain reporter, a gorgeous woman with an actually lovely personality turned up, interviewing everyone of importance. And of course, she had to interview Ms. Metal herself: Scorpia.

"Ms. Scorpia, let me introduce myself..."

"Scorpia, please; just 'Scorpia'; or Ms. Metal, if you like."

"Oh! Okay, let me start over: Scorpia, I'm Rebekah Gertin, reporter for _MetaLust_ — you might have heard of it?"

Jane nodded gravely, looking down her nose at the woman. She was a pretty thing, a perky redhead with blue eyes and an intriguing suit with lots of mesh panels that gave it interest, and made it comfortable in the little heat-wave that was passing through Cleveland just then.

"I know it well," Jane said. "A worthy organization, that knows quality when it sees it." They had been enthusiastic about all Scorpia's ventures thus far—justly so, because they had been good for their circulation.

"Ms.... Ms. Metal, or Scorpia: would you give us an exclusive interview? We can come to a very favorable agreement, I'm sure!"

Jane looked at her closely, deliberately making the girl sweat just a bit. This was Scorpia's style; other celebrity metal types were abusive, foul-mouthed, raunchy, or all three; Jane was just severe and a little intolerant.

"Certainly."

The reporter's face lit up, but she was rightly suspicious that there might be a catch.

"You know you're on trial, don't you?" Scorpia said, evenly. Rebekah blinked. "If I am _ever_... _ever_ misquoted, I will actively take my revenge." The reporter's eyes went wide. Fooling with interviews was the stock-in-trade of the adult-entertainment news business. "You may edit. But I will be the final judge that what I said was not misrepresented, directly or indirectly. You understand?"

Rebekah took a deep breath. In her platform heels, Jane was more than 6 feet tall, and an intimidating presence.

"I understand, but I must check with my superiors..."

"By all means," said Jane, striding away like some heroic dancer.

"What did you tell her?" asked a group of fans in hushed voices. Scorpia's fans were even more eager than Jane herself that she should be interviewed by the famous news service. _MetaLust_ was the most informative and well-run subscription news service on the Web.

"A conditional affirmative," said Jane, not slowing down. Pens and programs were thrust at her with adoring smiles, and she autographed them with _Scorpia_ , written clearly with embellishments. No scribbling for her.

There was a route she took through the fair, and everyone knew it. She didn't loiter; she sailed round the vast arena, visiting the interesting spots, watching the interesting events, and the fans followed her like a vast cloud. Today she was showing some skin; she had a magnificent real-hair wig on, piled high on her head, her signature green-blue-purple-yellow-orange mask in place, interesting leather straps cris-crossing the exposed parts of her body, and vinyl covering the rest of it.

Isabella was in the fashion show that morning, and as Jane drew near, they hurried to find her a good seat. She took her time to get seated comfortably, a little apart from the crowd, and watched with interest, playing with the baton she carried, which looked just a little like a giant dildo.

Isabella was perfect for this sort of costume. Her expression rarely changed: her mouth was a little pouty or sulky, her heavy-lidded eyes looked a little unhappy, almost flighty; in short she looked as if she was enduring mild torture. She looked this way _all the time_ when working, yet everybody adored her, including Jane. Now she walked down the runway, her body painted in glorious, subtle pastel colors, wearing a stunning aluminum skirt and bra, with unbelievable spiky ornaments that were the soul of the metal style. She sulked down the runway in perfect form, scanning the faces at her feet, as if looking for a savior to take her away from this hell... and she saw Jane, and her face was subtly transformed. A spontaneous cheer went up from the audience, and Jane smiled her Scorpia smile. Not only was Isabella seriously pursuing Scorpia, the fans had noticed it, and appeared to support it. Jane had to meet her advisers, and decide how much to encourage or discourage it.

The heat was unbearable. The pool adjacent to the arena was always full, and many conventioneers were in swim-wear or beach-wear, among them Deanna. Heather and Jane had done research and found the best swimsuit for her, to support her heavy breasts and yet look attractive. Deanna had taken to swimming, and it seemed to improve her in subtle ways. She seemed to have her own little set of admirers, and presently she, too, was found a seat near Jane.

Businesses in Cleveland approached Arthur—in his capacity as Scorpia's business manager on site—to have Scorpia endorse them, or stop by for publicity. Music stores, electronics stores, malls, even libraries wanted her.

Scorpia retired into her suite for lunch, the convention itself providing crowd-control for her, and Jane slipped out and joined the others for lunch, and a quick talk before Isabella joined them, and made it impossible to plan. Fortunately Isabella was an accommodating girl, and it wasn't hard to persuade her to run an errand for them, while they quickly talked over something she should not hear.

"Okay, I've got a couple of bookstores, a mall, and this library, a lingerie store, and two more video stores."

"Can we do a circuit? I want to walk; the limo thing is silly, and traffic was a little messy last time."

"Well, it's Good Friday; traffic should be a little lighter."

"Wow! I had forgotten!"

"Just dress decent."

"Okay."

"Um... I have a map here... "

It was possible to get four of the seven establishments in a simple circuit that Jane could walk. Arthur left to do the planning, and make some phone calls. Isabella arrived, looking sweet in a light spring dress.

"You still have some of your make-up on."

Isabella nodded and smiled. "I like it," she said, "I keep it on for the day, I think! And the night, maybe Scorpia will dance!"

Jane wrinkled her nose at her and smiled. She was pleased that Scorpia's attention made Isabella happy, she was just concerned that the girl would be heartbroken if she wanted more than Scorpia could give her.

After lunch, someone had to distract Isabella again, so that Jane could get into costume.

"Arthur is going ahead to the bookstore to get it ready for Scorpia," Deanna confided to the girl, "and he might need help with carrying stuff."

"Shall I help?"

"It's heavy; I don't know . . ."

"I carry just the light stuff, maybe?"

"Well, go ask him."

When Scorpia appeared next, Isabella was safely off to the bookstore with both Arthur and Deanna. Heather and she headed out through the hotel entrance, patiently waiting for the fans to make way for her, and she walked in the direction she had been told to go, with great dignity. She had made certain that she was dressed modestly; she had an instinct that told her there could be trouble if she wore her usual sexy outfits on Good Friday. Sure enough, a minister stood on the sidewalk, holding a briefcase and talking to someone. _There must be scores of clergymen abroad this afternoon_ , Jane thought.

The cleric caught sight of Scorpia, and quickly asked his companion something, and it appeared he was told that it was safe to talk to her. Though Jane would rather have politely walked by, somehow the fans and the sidewalk traffic conspired to find Scorpia and the clergyman facing each other across the sidewalk. He bowed gallantly, smiling, and Scorpia did exactly the same.

"Good afternoon, dear Lady; you're attired appropriately for the Day, I see!"

"Exactly, Reverend! I'm off to a bookstore, to show support for literacy in your fair city," Scorpia said, gravely as always.

"Ah!" The man was actually extremely handsome, and equally charming. "And are you for literacy only today, or year round?"

"Year round, sir; reading never stops."

"And what wisdom do you have for us today?"

Looking back later, Jane considered her reply one of the riskiest things Scorpia had ever said, but as it happened, it turned out well:

"Stop capital punishment."

The clergyman stepped forward and shook Scorpia's hand, murmured a few words of appreciation, they bowed, and Scorpia resumed her walk.

Soon news mobiles were driving past them, cameras trained on Scorpia, and the crowd around her grew, wondering where she would go. She found the bookstore, and strode inside. She stood at the entrance, looking proudly about, until the manager hurried up, and greeted her.

"May I look around your fine store, sir, before we do business?"

"Oh, yes, please! Go ahead; I'll follow you."

Jane was enjoying herself. Isabella stood there, her smile radiant. The girl _could_ look happy. Jane gave her a slight bow, and walked with great dignity around the store. She stopped by one set of shelves, and seeing a woman of about 25 looking surprised and pleased to see her, she walked up.

"Are you looking for anything in particular, dear lady?"

"I think this one," she said, breathlessly. Jane took the book delicately, and instantly recognized it. It was a wonderful fairy tale with erotic elements in it; something she had read within the last several months.

"An excellent choice," she murmured appreciatively. "Will you give me the pleasure of buying it for you?"

"Oh, yes... I mean, I was gonna buy it anyways! That's so nice of you..."

"Please! It's agreed then; the book is yours!"

The manager hurried forward. "If you would be so kind as to autograph it for our customer?"

Jane raised an invisible eyebrow, but her body language was clear. The woman nodded at once. Pulling out her own pen, Jane wrote: 'with the compliments of Scorpia,' and gave it to her with a smile and a flourish.

Jane turned to the Manager and smiled, gesturing that he was now in charge, while Arthur went with the young woman to the cashier, to pay for the book. It was a private bookstore rather than a chain, and Jane had told Arthur to ask only a nominal fee. For half an hour, Jane signed books for customers who bought them, taking a few seconds to leaf through each book.

Similar scenes were repeated in the next few places, and at one they found news cameras already set up. Jane charmed everyone with her politeness. Finally, at the Library, she posed seated, reading a book on Erotica, while the library photographer took a careful portrait of her. It had been agreed to beforehand, that Scorpia Inc. would own the photograph, and would pay for the photographer, the materials, the processing, everything. But the Library could make unlimited prints and sell them, provided Scorpia got a certain fraction of the profits.

_MetaLust_ capitulated on the conditions for the interview. It was to take place on Saturday, and Jane wore one of the sexiest outfits they had: a skimpy all-vinyl outfit. It was to take place in Scorpia's suite, and they covered the large bed with black satin sheets. Jane reclined on the bed, and the camera rolled. They had agreed to allow Arthur to take the video, edit it, if necessary, and give it to _MetaLust_ for further editing. The equipment was all Scorpio's, but the _MetaLust_ cameraman operated it, so that they could get the angles they wanted.

For an hour, Jane listened closely to questions from Rebekah, and answered them. Rebekah was a brilliant interviewer, whose opinions often clashed with those of Jane/Scorpio. But, with the mask on, Jane found inspiration to persuade the woman on a number of issues on which they initially disagreed. The unique speech-style Jane had perfected for Scorpia was an easy one to adhere to. It was just Jane, but deeper still, more vehement, a lot more polite, and a lot more uncompromising.

Was she in the sex business? No; in the entertainment business.

Would she perform sex on camera? She had no plans to do so, but she would not rule it out.

Did she think the adult entertainment business was exploitative of women? Not particularly, but she was concerned about the lives of models and actresses once they were no longer able to model. Perhaps employers, such as herself, should look into the possibility of establishing funds for retirement of the models. It would not be effective until good tax laws were passed.

Did she support the child pornography laws? She was opposed to the exploitation of children. She had no plans to employ children in adult photographs. Whatever a child could do, an adult could do better.

Did Scorpia have a love interest? Scorpia was not a person, she was a personality.

There was evidence that a particular young lady was receiving special attention from Scorpia. What did she have to say about this? Scorpia will have to do a better job of spreading herself around. However, Scorpia tends to spend time with young ladies who can dance. This, unfortunately, limits her ability to socialize with more ladies.

After the recording session, or the 'taping,' as they termed it, Rebekah approached Scorpia.

"I'm having second thoughts about the 'particular young lady' thing. Maybe you should edit it out!"

"That might cause more harm than good," said Scorpia, gravely. "It would be evidence, in your eyes, that there is something going on. We leave it to your good judgment, dear lady."

They stayed a couple more days, and even persuaded Isabella to wear the Scorpia suit. They explained that the Scorpia actress needed time off, to visit in the area, and Isabella had been personally selected by Herself to be her substitute. Isabella readily agreed. They sat her down and made her practice just the initial S the way Scorpia wrote it, and she soon was able to forge it perfectly. Meanwhile, a gorgeous costume had been put together for her: a floor-length Cinderella-style drop-waisted gown in sheer black mesh, with sexy shoes, lace gloves and a black veil, over sexy black iridescent underwear. They made her up meticulously, after she had rehearsed her Scorpio walk. Meanwhile, in the same room, Jane was made up to look like Isabella, with a wig, false eyelashes, and the signature clothes that Isabella tended to wear. "Nobody will guess that it is you, because: there you are, right next to her!"

Admittedly, Jane looked startlingly convincing; Isabella was so wooden that she was easy to imitate.

It was a brilliant success. Both Jane and Isabella enjoyed themselves tremendously, though it was a hard struggle for Jane to keep up the appearance of being glum. It would have helped to have taken some kind of downer, but Jane never considered it. She wore even higher heels than usual, because Isabella was an inch taller than her.

Isabella was magnificent. She swept onto the floor like a queen, the classic lines of the gown contrasting wildly with the sexy thong bikini she wore under it, and the kinky matching bra. Fans surrounded her, and she got a lot of mileage with: "Not too close, darling," and "Very _interesting!"_

"Dance with Dee, now," urged Jane, and later Dee encouraged her to dance with many partners, but always with the best dancers. Isabella knew line dances, which Jane did not; it was a new phenomenon to do line dances with Latin rhythms, and Isabella happily joined a set consisting of twelve dancers who danced in a square. Jane, watching, was utterly transported. Deanna and Heather held their own in the dance, together with some of the stars of the convention, including Rebekah, the reporter.

"How did you like it?" Heather asked Isabella, as they set out back on the long drive home in their rented minivan.

"Oh Heather, it was perfect," said she, still on cloud nine. She had insisted on sleeping with the others in their room, because she was so excited she could not sleep alone. They had praised her to the skies, and it had been genuine praise; Scorpia's legend had grown that evening, not least because Isabella had refused to converse with anyone at length. She had mimed her refusal, with her beautifully expressive hands. "You are all fun girls. And boys," she added, indicating Arthur. "But Jane was never there!"

"I was," said Jane, pretending annoyance. "You don't see anyone when Scorpia is around!"

"Where is Scorpia?" she demanded, puzzled.

"She's an actress, Issy," Dee explained, as planned, "she flies out and flies back; she doesn't have time to drive cross-country!"

"A real actress? For movies?"

"Er... not the kind of movies you would see, understand?"

Isabella made a face. "I see," she said, sounding disappointed.

Life took a while to settle to normal. The Scorpia interview was shown on _MetaLust_ for several days, and then excerpts were shown periodically. She was quoted extensively, including her words to the clergyman on the street. She was called a hypocrite, but there was an overwhelming outcry against the accusation. Photographs of Isabella's turn as Herself were shown on the National news media, in preference to photos of Jane in that role. While the costume was a winner, it was clear that Isabella had been wonderfully effective; her natural grace was a large part of it. It was a model for Jane, who often thought of ways of improving her charade. But most of all, her promise or challenge to provide some kind of insurance for models weighed on her mind. She asked Sasha's advice about how to establish such a thing. It turned out that it was well understood; except that the money would not be tax free unless certain conditions were satisfied.

Jane was now able to afford a raise for her models, which was silently put into the fund. The girls had to sign forms, which Heather maintained religiously.

—:—

## Zsuszana starts Modeling

In May, Maria and Zsuszana, or Susanna as they called her now, arrived one day to take Jane aside and tell her that the girl was sixteen.

"How would you like to be a _real_ model?"

The girl looked into Jane's eyes and took a deep breath.

"Yes," she said, "that will be good. You mean... not naked?"

Jane shook her head. And Susanna nodded finally. And so began a long search to find all of Zsuszana's erotic photographs, and destroy them.

Getting the girl into the legitimate teen model business was a risk, but the kid was good, and to cut her off from modeling altogether would take away something that was a great pleasure for her. It seemed a good idea to get her started on athletic pursuits. Modeling sportswear was a specialty within teen modeling, and if Sue was an athlete anyway, it would be more convincing.

"You look, from your build, as if you would be good at tennis," Jane said one day, squinting at her critically.

Her eyes widened with interest. "Really?"

Jane nodded wisely. "Yup; want to go get a lesson and see?"

The kid was interested. Heather was an all-round athlete, and particularly keen on tennis. Jane came out to watch, as they went out to a court one afternoon, and Heather taught her the basics. She seemed to struggle, but Heather declared that she was going to be good. "She needs a racquet her size, and a light one, and we have to keep at it . . . she also needs a little more muscle," was Heather's verdict.

Jane attended as many lessons as possible, with Maria. Maria sat close to her, but not touching, but as soon as Jane took her hand, they would melt together, and Jane's breath would be filled with the subtle fragrance that was Maria. Long ago Jane had given up trying to decide whether this simple pleasure harmed the woman; they could not give up the relationship. To all appearances, the couple were seated perfectly decently, watching the girl's lesson.

Gradually, Sue blossomed. The tennis strengthened her legs and all of her, she walked with more confidence, her eyes were brighter; many subtle changes, all to the good, were seen. Jane approached a department store with a collection of recent photos of Sue, praying that nobody there would recognize the once popular nude model. Certainly she looked different now; her breasts were fully developed, she was considerably taller and fleshed-out.

One outfit offered to give her a trial, 'just for experience.' The second place would use her for their weekly catalog, but they would pay. And so it started. There was a certain charm, an aristocratic look to young Susanna, even when she grinned. In contrast to many blond, blue-eyed American kids, Sue was put together very convincingly, she looked as if she could play any game, and she looked like someone any teen would like to know, or any girl would like to be.

She was lucky. She looked as attractive dressed as she looked nude. Many other young models did not; it was only their nakedness that they could sell, and Jane's blood ran cold at the thought that not much stood between the two women and abject poverty, especially if they abided by the law.

It was a little harder to get into the teen fashion modeling business. It was necessary to make her up to actually look thinner than she was, emphasize her eyes, not to mention other things that Maria and Sue may have done that Jane did not even want to know, before Sue looked interesting to teen fashion editors. The kid had an eye for fashion, and Jane brought a collection of photos that impressed one magazine, who referred them to an agency.

This led them to a sequence of agencies. The difficulty was to find one in which there was a good balance between the Agency's desire to make money for themselves versus their ability to make money for the models. In the end, Jane decided to represent Sue herself.

It wasn't easy. It was always more convenient for a magazine to farm the entire project out to a single agency than to hire models piecemeal. But by making friends with magazine staff, Jane was able to get Susanna work in one major magazine for one issue. She thanked god that Susanna was an undemanding, unassuming, friendly child. She did what she was told, was polite and cheerful, was friendly towards the other models, and was infinitely patient. The shoot was a success, and she was invited back the following week.

—:—

## Another Print

Following up on the incredible success of the limited edition print, Jane wanted to do another one. She decided on a portrait of Deanna seated on a luxurious red velvet armchair, wearing one of her incredible gowns, or something like it, with the hem of it raised in her hand, exposing her naked crotch. It would be all entirely formal, except for the pose, one that had been done dozens of times in nude pictorials, as an initial photo that set the mood of a sequence, in which the model would eventually disrobe fully. Would dirty old men like such a picture to frame and hang up?

Jane painted this one from the model itself. Ignoring the ache of her body, the almost unbearable need to touch Deanna, Jane steeled herself, and began to paint. She painted fast, using big brushes, imagining the kind of lighting that would flatter Deanna, which she could not afford, and which she was too impatient to wait for. There was a red flood placed at some distance, a blue flood at a different angle, and daylight, and the light of the chandelier.

Deanna was excited, and Jane longed to be able to depict the rise and fall of her breasts. She was at a loss even as to how to suggest it. She painted doggedly, until it was time to paint her face, and... the focal point of the piece. In this work, the vaginal lips would be closed, in keeping with the formal nature of the portrait. But Jane took great care over the detail, using the tiniest, finest brush she had, with carefully mixed paint, to depict the perfect smoothness of Deanna's sex. Then she turned to Deanna's face, the true focus. It would be Deanna's eyes, her lips and her mouth that would sell the portrait.

It was impossible to keep her inner vision of Deanna out of the picture; in Jane's heart, Deanna was infinitely more beautiful than she actually was, and it flowed onto the canvas.

"I'm thirsty," said Deanna.

Jane hurried to get her water. Deanna looked at her, a look that would normally earned her a kiss, or a touch, or a caress.

"I'm almost done," Jane said, "I'm just doing your..."

Deanna nodded, blushing.

Jane went back to the canvas, and painted for all she was worth. Deanna was holding her breath, and the look of intentness was just what Jane had hoped for.

"Okay," said Jane, continuing to paint. Deanna seemed to collapse for a second, then she rose, like a flower blooming; stretched out like a cat. Jane's muscles ached, her fingers were cramped, her stomach hurt. Finally she straightened up. Deanna hurried up. She gasped.

They made love on the carpet, or at least, Deanna made love to Jane. Then she leaped up. "I—I have an appointment!" she cried.

"With whom?"

"With... someone you don't know," gasped Deanna, and ran off at top speed. Jane lay on the rug, wrung out.

Then she heard footsteps—footsteps she was familiar with. She froze. She hoped that if she kept absolutely still, she would be ignored.

The footsteps halted, and then came closer. And Susanna knelt by her, her eyes taking in every detail of Jane's naked body.

"I'm sixteen," she whispered, "Jane... I'm legal!"

"No, Sue, not until you're eighteen," Jane managed.

Without a word, Susanna lowered her lips to Jane's breast, and began to suck.

Jane lay passive, letting Susanna have her way. It was a coming-of-age ritual for the child; she wanted to give her virginity to someone she loved. But Jane only saw Maria in her mind; sweet and touching though the touch of the girl's inept fingers were, in Jane's heart there was a longing to make love to the patient, suffering Maria. It seemed boorish to make love to her hand during tennis lessons, and not fulfill her human needs as Jane was able. Jane, after all, was not sworn to be faithful to one person, sworn to protect the sanctity of a family. She had no children; Sue, busy exploring every orifice in Jane's body, was the closest thing to a child who depended on her.

Did the kid know about orgasm? Jane soon found out. As she became more sure of herself, her hands became steadier, and they settled down to a slow, relentless rhythm. Just one finger —Jane was very small, and Heather's big dildo always made her very sore—and in and out it went. She knew, all right.

"Sue... please..."

"Shh... " she leaned over to kiss Jane quiet. She had worn a thin white shirt, with her little tennis bra underneath; she was barefoot, evidently having taken her sneakers off. Jane could feel the rapid thump of her heart. Her breathing was loud in Jane's ears.

Her body began to respond, however unwillingly. She refused to touch the girl, out of some vague desire not to encourage her. She opened her eyes to look at her, to convey with her eyes how unhappy she was, and her heart almost stopped at the perverse beauty of the sight. The girl wore her tennis clothes, a brief navy skirt and white shirt, and was crouched over and astride Jane's upper body, her arm over her back, between her legs, working away at Jane's sex, her lips sucking at Jane's breasts, first one, then the other. A mirror behind the sofa showed it all, and Jane the artist went slowly mad at the sight.

Jane arrived at orgasm in a rush; she willed herself to do it, simply to end the sweet torture quickly. Sue gasped and kissed her like mad. Then she rolled on her back, and unbuttoned her shirt.

"You have a lesson; you should go!"

"No! It's finished! Jane, please!"

"No."

"Please, please, please! I want you! Jane!"

"No! Please don't make me! I'll kiss you, that's enough."

Jane kissed her. But one was not enough for her; she unbuttoned her shirt anyway, and pressed herself against Jane, kissing her repeatedly. She kissed Jane until Jane could not breathe. She sat up, looking at Jane thoughtfully.

"And this is from Mama," she said, leaning down to give Jane a fierce kiss once again. "Oh yes, I know about you and Mama," she said.

She had always been beautiful, from the first day Jane had set eyes on her. But there was a new depth in her eyes, that afternoon, that marked her as someone who would be very passionate. Jane began to feel a sinking feeling: too knowing a face would ruin her chance to model. She needed her childhood; it was something precious that Jane had thought she had managed to save for the kid.

"How is Mama?"

"Why don't you come and see?"

Jane nodded. She took a deep breath, and managed to put most of this experience aside for the moment. She tenderly buttoned Sue's blouse; the girl's skin was clammy with perspiration. She really had finished a lesson, not to mention the exertion of the last half hour.

What would happen now? Could she help the girl with her schoolwork any more? It seemed to Jane that their relationship had been ruined. Sue and her mother were becoming an important part of Jane's circle of responsibility; she gave them a regular income, in addition to what they earned from the modeling; she helped with her schoolwork, she went to school activities as an older relative, accompanying Maria; her teacher knew Jane, and was eager to involve her in parent-teacher conferences.

Sue was on her feet, tugging at Jane's hand. "Get up!" she was saying; "Come, get ready, Mama wants to see you."

The minute Jane was up, Sue knelt to gently kiss her on the most intimate part of her body. Jane's hands flew to push the girl away, but ended up tenderly caressing her head.

"No. That's quite enough," she said, not angrily, but upset. Sue was thoughtfully licking her lips.

Jane cleaned herself up, and headed upstairs to dress, with Sue tagging behind. It was awkward to look for clothes with her watching intently, memorizing every detail of her body. Jane realized that bodies was the child's main preoccupation; in her place, Jane would have been doing the same. She tried not to look at the girl, but could not resist a quick glance at her as she pulled on her panties. She was seated on Jane's bed, watching with approval.

"Dress like a girl," she asked. "Mama would like that."

Jane took a deep breath. She didn't want to be spotted as Scorpia.

—:—

## Dressing like a Girl

She studied the closet, deploring the lack of women's clothes. There was a skirt, a sexy hipster thing with a flirty flare, more suited to a girl of Sue's age, and a crop-top she had worn last year. She took them out, and looked at Sue inquiringly. The kid nodded vigorously, her face lighting up.

Maria opened the door, and a cry of pleasure escaped her lips. She looked Jane up and down, her eyes shining. Her hair was braided loosely, and hung round one shoulder, nestling between her breasts. Jane felt a little silly, dressed all up like a teen, with her hair in a ribbon.

"Kiss her, Mama!" Sue said, smiling. Maria took a dainty step forward, and gave Jane a soft, chaste kiss on the lips. "Not like that!"

"Be quiet," said Maria, her smile evaporating. She drew Jane inside, and closed the door. She sat on the edge of the bed with Sue, giving Jane the comfortable chair.

They talked of this and that, plying Jane with little cakes and tea. Finally they decided to attend a movie. There happened to be a wonderful romance that was showing, rated PG, and Jane's interest in the movie, and her feeling that it would be a good experience for Sue, and her excitement at the prospect of seeing it with Maria clinched the decision.

Despite Jane's protests, Maria and Sue insisted on paying. Maria wore her hair in a braid. "I don't want to look like old lady," she said. At thirty, she looked so young that she could easily have been mistaken for Sue's sister.

Sue was in seventh heaven, as they danced along the street to the theater. Sue had decided to wear a long, silky skirt and a knitted top. Maria wore a nondescript skirt and blouse, but looked lovely in them. Jane had worn heelless sandals, and the three of them had eyes for no one but each other. They paid, found the theater that was showing their feature, and put down the arm-rests of their seats so that they could all three snuggle together, with Jane in the middle.

Jane held hands with both mother and daughter all through the show. They paid her the compliment of really watching the show, something that Sue had never done before. Maria's head eventually nestled against Jane's shoulder, a warm weight that felt _right_ there. Sue leaned forward in her seat, actually riveted by the action.

It finally drew to its wonderful close, and the three of them watched the credits, sighing with satisfaction. Sue said the name of the actress to herself softly, as Maria asked Jane to explain some detail that she had not understood.

"That was a wonderful film," Maria said, her expression serious. She was an intellectual, in addition to being an utter romantic and sensualist. Jane mumbled something in reply. Maria had a dozen questions, and Jane skillfully got them out of the theater and on the way home while she answered them.

"I have to go to the library," Sue said, suddenly.

"Why?"

"I have to find a book, Mama; you go home, I will be there soon."

"No! I will come for you. Wait there for me!"

Sue hurried off to the library, which was round the corner from the theater, while Jane and Maria exchanged glances.

"That was rather sudden, wasn't it?"

Maria shrugged, looking thoughtful. She began walking again. She had the economical walk of a ballet dancer—in contrast to the hip-swinging walk of a model—upright, toes pointed out at a graceful angle, shoulders held square. She made the quiet clothes she wore seem beautiful.

They walked in silence, but as the apartment grew closer, Jane found Maria clinging to her arm, hugging it against her, and they climbed the stairs awkwardly, clinging to each other. Once inside, Maria made a simple meal for them, and they ate, seated across from each other, Maria picking at her food, Jane eating with relish as Maria watched her.

Jane was seated in the single really comfortable chair in the apartment. Maria refused any help setting out a place for Sue, and putting everything away. Then she came to Jane, and slowly sat in her lap, her eyes glowing with tenderness. She slowly leaned down to Jane's lips and kissed her. And so began a tender lovemaking that stopped short of actual vaginal sex, but which nevertheless had a deep, emotional effect on both women.

As long as Maria loved her, Jane knew she could never escape her tender chain. She asked for nothing; all she needed was that her precious little girl be protected and cared for. Jane often wondered whether everything Maria did was a cynical attempt to obtain those things for Sue; to trap Jane into being a provider for them. But the more she knew them, the more convinced she was that, whether they had looked to her initially for protection or not, now they sincerely loved her, and cared for her.

It took a long time for Jane's pent-up feelings and Maria's to work themselves out. At last they simply sat together, cheek-to-cheek, savoring the nearness of each other. Jane loved to feel Maria's heavy black hair against her cheek, to feel the softness of her earlobe, to feel her eyelashes against the back of her fingers.

The phone rang. Maria picked it up, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Jane.

"Hallo?"

Jane overheard a stream of Hungarian, and saw Maria smile and roll her eyes. She covered the receiver and mouthed: Zsuszana, and nodded.

Jane could not follow the conversation, but enjoyed watching Maria's expression. Her voice became gentle, and then Maria looked at Jane and blushed. Finally she hung up, and looked at Jane, her head cocked to one side, blushing with wonder and embarrassment.

"Zsuszana said a lie; she want to..."

"Give us a chance to be alone together."

"Yeah, uh-huh. Did you know?"

Jane sighed, and then smiled.

"I'm glad she did. I wanted to... you know..."

"With me?"

"Yes, with you, Maria, who else?"

Maria said something to Jane, holding her breast, in Hungarian. It evidently meant a great deal to her, and she didn't try to translate it into English. "Some things..." she shook her head.

"Teach me Hungarian," Jane asked softly.

—:—

## A Checkup

After much discussion, Jane and her friends decided that they should take their health more seriously. Everything they read suggested that a large number of problems could be handled best by early detection. Once they had decided this, their attention turned to finding a good general practitioner, a family doctor.

"You'll never find one better than you-know-who," said Heather.

"Well," said Deanna, "as long as you two are on the outs, that plan's a loser!"

Heather's face went flinty again.

"We're not _on the outs,_ Dee; I just... gave her her freedom."

It turned out that Deanna was seeing Mary-Ellen every week, sometimes twice a week. They talked all the time, and had become firm friends. Jane had been hurt at first, but soon comforted herself that Deanna certainly wasn't in love with Mary-Ellen; she was just very fond of her.

A rapprochement between Heather and Mary-Ellen was long overdue; both Jane and Deanna were convinced of it. It might be risky; it might disrupt the delicate emotional balance they enjoyed, but Deanna was willing to take the risk, and so was Heather, provided Jane said okay. "I broke with her so that I could say that... you were the only one."

"I'm scared she might leave Gabe," said Jane.

"I don't think so," said Deanna. "I think she's found a guy she can relate to; he's a lot less the jealous type than you seem to think. One of these days, he'll be ready to hear all that she's up to. And he dotes on her, I think."

Accordingly, Mary-Ellen was invited out to W. Chestnut.

They watched from the window for her, and saw her coming up the street. She had a summery dress on, and a large doctor's bag. Her hair was in two pigtails, and she wore a little straw hat. She looked almost a caricature of herself.

"Hi!" she said breathlessly, as the three of them opened the door to her.

Jane was once more immediately under her spell. As Mary-Ellen glanced from one to the other of them, shyly, her gaze dwelt on Heather, and then on Jane, doing a swift double-take on the latter, and Jane knew Mary-Ellen could read her mind.

She kissed each of them in turn, and waited, looking at Heather.

"Thanks for coming," Heather said.

"I'm glad you asked me," said Mary-Ellen. Jane watched the two of them fascinated. She had often imagined them talking, but the reality was far more wonderful.

"How have you been?"

"Busy... you know. I've missed you, but otherwise... I'm fine."

"You've brought all your stuff..."

"Yup. All I need is a table..."

"We have a table as well as a couch," said Jane.

Mary-Ellen looked about, and they let her through, to admire the house. "This is nice!" she said.

Presently they had her settled in the kitchen. She said the higher table was more convenient. She began with Jane. She measured her weight, her height, and took her medical history, and wrote it all down on a form. Jane was impressed with how professional she was, despite her youthful appearance. And her mind was keen, and her training still fresh. She took blood samples, urine samples, labeled them carefully and put them in a cooler. She made Jane take off her top, and listened to her lungs and her heartbeat, talking to her about this and that, keeping her relaxed. Her hands were impersonal, though Jane knew that, at some level, Mary-Ellen must be as aroused as Jane was. Then Jane had to lie on the table, And Mary-Ellen gave her a vaginal exam.

"I never do this usually," she said, her professional shell collapsing. "But..." she pressed gently down on Jane's belly with one hand, while her other, gloved hand slipped carefully inside her, "for Dee, if not for you... this part could be a life-saver."

"I know, said Jane."

"I'm so turned on," Mary-Ellen whispered. "A part of me is enjoying myself far too much... and the rest of me... okay, I need a swab... got it... there."

She slowly removed her hand.

"It's important for you, too."

"I know," said Jane.

She took off the glove, and carefully put it in the container she would take back with her.

"I got licensed as a general practitioner, specially for you three."

"Really?"

"Yup. Otherwise I can't get some of the tests done. I can officially be your doctor, and I want to be."

Jane thanked her.

"Bring your Maria around; I'll do her _pro bono_."

"I'll pay for her," Jane said quickly. "And the daughter."

Mary-Ellen's eyes widened, then narrowed.

"Is she..."

"A former model. It was a mess."

"I've got to see her."

"All right."

One by one the others took their turn, with Jane assisting. Jane was flattered to be chosen, but somehow the others said it was a good choice. While Heather was being seen, Deanna called Maria and Sue, who promised to come over in the late afternoon.

Some of the tests could be done right away. While Heather made sandwiches at one end of the table, Jane and Mary-Ellen ran the tests that she could run. And Jane's heart skipped a beat when Mary-Ellen's eyes went wide, and her face went white.

Her mouth grim, she repeated the test, glancing at Jane cautiously with eyes that seemed to plead. What could Jane do? What was it? Jane bent her head over the task she had been given. Jane had to wear a mask, since she was handling the slides. Heather could not see Mary-Ellen's face.

Jane was particularly alarmed when Mary-Ellen took blood from herself. This was serious.

"Tea or coffee?" asked Deanna, coming in.

"Tea," said Jane.

"Coffee," said Mary-Ellen, her voice tight.

"What's the matter?" asked Deanna at once, looking concerned.

Mary-Ellen wrote her own name on the label, and passed it to Jane, who got to work. Mary-Ellen continued with her little test-strips, ignoring Deanna.

"Mary-Ellen, what's going on?"

Mary-Ellen paused, and looked at Dee.

"Well, give me just a few seconds," she asked nicely. Deanna looked at Jane wide-eyed. Jane shrugged.

"There's lots of good news, and a little bad news," Mary-Ellen said, looking at them, sipping at her coffee just a little too desperately for Jane's piece of mind. "No Herpes, no anemia. But I'm getting a positive test for HIV."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Oh god... all of us?" asked Deanna.

"Only Heather and you," she replied. She looked from one to the other, her face expressionless.

"What will happen now?" asked Heather.

"But how can that be? Jane and I do it all the time!" asked Deanna. "And what about you?"

"I tested myself too," she said, her voice a little strained. "I seem to be okay. Jane and I must keep on testing; I'll test you both as many times as you want. But we must begin treatment quickly!"

Mary-Ellen checked Maria and Sue carefully when they arrived, and declared them in perfect health. She and Maria clearly liked each other, while Sue was somewhat in awe of the doctor. "I want to see you every six months," she told them.

"I can't afford, Doctor," Maria said.

"I will do it for free," said Mary-Ellen, smiling at Sue. "If you ever need medical advice, don't go it alone, understand?" Sue nodded, wide-eyed.

They went home, thanking everybody, wondering at the air of anxiety that seemed to hang over the house.

The tests were repeated, and sent out to a commercial lab to verify. Mary-Ellen collapsed onto a chair, and began to sniff. They all watched her until she got herself under control.

"Who have you been seeing?" Mary-Ellen asked Heather. "I thought you..."

"Nobody! Absolutely nobody!"

Deanna grew red in the face.

"I... I've been seeing someone," she said, looking scared. She looked at Jane, who gasped.

"Me?"

"Arthur," said Deanna.

"But... but... but why haven't _I_ gotten it?"

Mary-Ellen shrugged, wiping her eyes. Luckily Jane did not have to confess to incest; it could have been a question of infection through Deanna.

"I must see Arthur," said Mary-Ellen, her voice sorrowful.

She did see him, later that night, and he tested positive. He confessed that he had had an encounter with another man. He refused to give details, but Mary-Ellen was convinced that that was the source.

How intimate was it safe to be with Deanna and Heather? Mary-Ellen told them as much as she could remember. Blood was the biggest risk; anal intercourse frequently involved bleeding, and that was the main reason gay sex resulted in transmission so often. She promised to find out the best thinking on the problem, but she said gentle lovemaking, without any risk of bleeding, or transmission of blood from one partner to the other was a good risk.

"Stay away from me!" said Heather, bitterly, her eyes glinting. Mary-Ellen went over to her at once, and kissed her on the lips. She wept, and held Heather tight, and kept saying "It's not the end of the world! I love you... we all love you!" Deanna looked stricken, and Jane took her cue from Mary-Ellen, and hugged Deanna close. Deanna began to cry.

—:—

## Arthur's Gift

Arthur looked miserable. Jane went to him and took his hands in hers.

"Don't blame yourself," she said, her eyes shining.

Arthur gently pushed Jane away. He glanced at Heather. "Like you said... I never used protection. I'm such a jerk!" He suddenly stood up and walked out, but Heather ran after him. They heard the door slam, open, then slam again.

"I hate to be the one to bring such terrible news," said Mary-Ellen. "This kind of thing never seems to happen in sports medicine!" They laughed at her feeble joke. Mary-Ellen hugged her knees to herself, and began to rock to and fro. Jane quietly went to sit next to her, and put her arm around the little doctor. Mary-Ellen put her head against Jane's breast and began to sniff loudly. Jane looked at Deanna, and saw her crying silently.

"Don't cry, Dee," she said, her own eyes shining. "I'm here for—for the long haul... Mary-Ellen too... aren't you, Mary-Ellen?" Mary-Ellen nodded, her eyes closed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, also crying silently. "Come here, so I can hold you!" Jane said to Dee.

Dee shook her head, her face showing fear, as well as frustration. She was clearly too miserable to talk. But Jane kept nodding at her, beckoning to her, urging her to come, and finally she did, to sit stiffly by Jane. She wore shorts and a T-Shirt, and looked all wrong to be in her condition, crying over such miserable news.

"I'm going to make love to you every night," Jane promised, her heart breaking.

"No," said Deanna. "Heather and I... Heather and I can... I guess it makes no difference now."

"Does she still have that... hideous leather thing?"

"Yes... why?"

"Those things sometimes cause bleeding, especially in girls who are small inside," Mary-Ellen said, controlling herself.

"Jane and I are both small," Deanna said, just a note of bitterness in her voice. "I'm glad you're safe, Jane, but I wonder why I was singled out for... for this honor."

There was a long silence. Mary-Ellen simply sat, holding Jane's hand, and Deanna finally let Jane hold hers, too. After a long time, Deanna leaned against Jane, forgiving her whatever imagined sin Jane was guilty of.

Mary-Ellen left soon afterwards. There were follow-up things that had to be done, and she had to get home. Jane wondered how this would affect them. She knew she could give the girls all the comfort they needed. A lot more was known about HIV now, and she was certain that the kind of lovemaking they indulged in would not result in infecting her.

Heather returned a little later, saying that she had managed to calm Arthur down.

"I feel so sorry for him," Heather said softly, "it's a hell of a thing to lay on a kid that age."

"I guess Mary-Ellen will hunt down the other guy, then?"

"Knowing her, yes," said Heather. "God... I realize how much I love her now..."

Deanna began to sniff. Jane held her tight, looking sorrowfully at Heather.

"Dee?" asked Heather, coming closer. Dee looked up at her, a little blankly. Heather swallowed hard.

She sat down close to Dee.

"Whatever happens to us... whatever remains for me... I want to make you as happy as I can, as... as long as I can!"

Deanna stared at her.

"Are we going to die?" she asked in a whisper.

Heather's lips twisted into a sardonic look, and Deanna blushed.

"Our health just becomes very... precarious. Other infections could go crazy on us. But we could last for years and years."

Deanna turned to Jane. "Is it true?"

Jane nodded. "The full disease doesn't kick in for years and years sometimes."

"Is it really safe to..."

"If we're careful."

"You'd better not!"

Jane looked at her a long while. "I want to," she said.

That summer, life became infinitely more immediate for all three of them, and for Mary-Ellen. She monitored them faithfully, and passed on every relevant piece of information to them. Apparently transmission via body fluids was possible, but it was not thought that it was trace amounts of blood that actually carried the virus. It was a matter of whether the uninfected partner had any breaks in his or her skin. Since breaks could be minute, invisible to the eyes, it all boiled down to how much you could express your love physically, without running the risk of blood-tainted fluids contacting a skin blemish.

Jane gradually settled on a level of lovemaking with which they were all comfortable. Still, Deanna and Heather were now drawn closer and closer to each other, though they would make love to Jane, but treated her as if she were some precious china doll. She never doubted for a second that they cared for her. In a sense, they cared for her more than ever before. But their intimacy gradually cooled, until Jane could not evoke much of a passionate response from Deanna, the one she ultimately loved most deeply. They would cuddle together and sleep, but Dee always turned her head away, afraid, no doubt, of dripping saliva on Jane. Jane's heart ached, but Deanna could not see it.

Heather was as tender and as loving as Jane could want. Passion was there, but Heather was afraid that if she let herself go, she would do something that they would regret. The leather dildo was destroyed. Jane recognized that it made sense not to indulge in really invasive sex; but she was sure that, if Heather used gloves, for instance, no harm could result. After a while, Heather agreed to do this.

Deanna watched all this, and they began to learn to make love in such a way that they felt safe. Deanna would kiss Jane carefully, while Heather made love to her, using surgical gloves. Jane was grateful for it, despite the awkwardness of it.

It was Jane who was sent out to spend time with Mary-Ellen now. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter any more what the subtleties about their relationships were. Jane was ready to fall in love with Mary-Ellen, if it happened. Mary-Ellen did not care to talk about it; she only kissed Jane, and made love to her desperately.

—:—

## Deanna in Oils

It was a while before Jane went back to look at Deanna's portrait. They all looked at it, and if it wasn't as dramatic as the first portrait, they had to agree that it was utterly beautiful. Deanna happened to be standing in front of Jane, as they all studied it in the morning light, and Jane put her hands around Deanna, to cup her breasts in her hands, and rest her cheek on Deanna's silky hair. Deanna fit just perfectly under Jane's chin.

"Let's do it!" Heather said, eyes shining.

Once again, they got out the large view camera, and began the process of making and selling the prints.

"This belongs to you," Jane said. Her love for Deanna, oddly frustrated, was bursting for expression. "All the proceeds are for you!"

Deanna looked at her, eyes bright.

"You don't have to do this, darling," she said, shaking her head, "you don't have to..." she swallowed, choking back tears, "to prove your love for me... I know how much you love me... and I still love you, no matter how it looks!"

"I don't care how it looks, Dee... it's yours," said Jane.

This edition was printed on slightly better paper, at Deanna's request. The first one sold for around $800, and as word spread, the remaining ones sold at higher prices, up to $2000. The overall profit was around $30,000, and they were fairly certain that the original would sell for a lot of money someday. But Deanna wanted Heather to have it.

The two of them got closer and closer all the time. Heather never stopped loving Jane, but Deanna and Heather were so tender with each other, Jane simply had to resign herself to the new reality.

Mary-Ellen came by in October, for another check of anybody Jane, Dee and Heather could get to come by. They had started treatment, now, with the best available drugs, and there were good signs. Jane was still healthy, as were Maria and Sue, though the kid needed help with painful periods. Isabella was persuaded to come, and was diagnosed as anemic. She argued with them, but finally accepted that she would do as advised. Jane always smiled at the struggle Isabella had with her world. It was the perfect girl living in a world that looked imperfect to her. Her expectations were invariably unreasonable, and she suffered as a result. But there was something endearing about her, despite her too-perfect body, and her constant pout.

"Gosh, she's cute," was Mary-Ellen's comment, as she quickly checked the faces of her friends to see if the remark was taken amiss.

"Well, you can't have her; I want you for myself," kidded Jane, making Mary-Ellen blush with pleasure.

Ann agreed to be seen, too. She was deeply involved with video, and had begun to be known for her lesbian sex clips with women they did not know well. Mary-Ellen examined her, and diagnosed Herpes, which angered Ann. Still, it was good to know, she agreed, and agreed to be treated for it, and to observe precautions. Mary-Ellen confided that she thought Ann was cute, too. But Herpes was a turn-off, which they did not tell Ann.

Scorpia was invited to be interviewed live on National TV. This meant that she had to be extremely careful about the opinions she gave, since there was no editing. In the end, she consented to give a recorded interview, which the Networks preferred, since they, too, were anxious about staying within legal limits.

Jane wore the black mesh ball gown, with metal bikini inside. Half the fun was holding the dress up, and practicing the way Isabella had stood with the gown; there was something utterly feminine about wearing a flared floor-length gown.

She charmed them. The past year had made the awkward young photographer into a confident lady; and being Scorpia had made it possible for her to explore doing and saying things that she was too inhibited to do and say ordinarily. She was coquettish, sexy, flirtatious, aggressive, and openly sexual, though restrained. The interviewer was a man, William "Wild Bill" Hitchcock, who was charming and articulate, and his co-host was a lovely, and well-loved TV personality, Judy, a graduate of one of the foremost colleges for women, an accomplished musician, sculptor, and one-time figure-skater.

Scorpia made pretty compliments to Judy, flirting with her outrageously. Bill asked her whether she preferred women, and she answered: doesn't everyone? Women were just better in every way! Did she have a lover? Yes, two of them, wonderful people, and she was very lucky.

Luckily, instead of asking her a lot of little trivial questions, they engaged her in a real conversation. It was stimulating and pleasant. To round things out, Scorpia danced with Bill, first, and then with Judy, who was a superb dancer, and dipped her at the last minute, and kissed her on the cheek, as the studio audience cheered.

It was Halloween, and Jane volunteered to join Maria to take a group of East European immigrant kids trick-or-treating around their neighborhood. Deanna would stay at home and hand out presents with Heather, and Mary-Ellen and Gabe agreed to come and watch and join the fun. Gabe only knew that Jane lived there, and had no idea that Heather was an old acquaintance of Mary-Ellen's.

Maria and Jane had to go in costume, and they did as Wendy and Peter Pan. Zsuszana was a convincing Tinker Bell, while the other kids in the building dressed as anything from sharks to cowboys, to policemen and ballerinas. They ended up at the house in West Chestnut, and Jane saw Mary-Ellen and Gabe together for the first time.

There were lots of snacks for the kids, who ran up and down, thoroughly excited, as Deanna tried to maintain some kind of order. Gabe was pleased to see Jane, and hugged her and kissed her, as a friend from high school. He looked more mature, as she had expected, but also very handsome, with a kind, outgoing look in his eye. Jane knew then that Mary-Ellen had made a good choice. Gabe would support her in her desire to do charitable things, and he clearly doted on his new girlfriend.

Heather had issued an open invitation to all their friends to drop in that evening, and predictably Isabella showed up, dressed as Scorpia, and so did Ann, dressed as a cowgirl from the wild west; and sundry other people, some dressed up, others not. There was not a great deal of food, but food seemed to flow into the house steadily: pizza, Chinese food, Greek food, and of course, candy and ice cream.

Finally, it was time to take the kids back home, and Jane, Maria and the kids piled into a pair of taxis, and headed out. Jane kissed Maria a tender goodnight, hugged Sue, and headed back home. When she got there, most of the crowd had dispersed, leaving Mary-Ellen and Gabe, Isabella, and Dee and Heather.

They sat and talked and drank wine for a while, after which the visitors reluctantly took their leave, saying they had enjoyed the party greatly.

"Our first party!" Deanna exclaimed, beaming at them. "What a mess! I love it!" Jane and Heather smiled at her, fondly. Dee loved to entertain, and Jane loved to watch her be the brilliant host.

CHAPTER EIGHT

# Cooler Weather

The cold weather settled in, and Jane's life settled down to a routine. It came to be known that most pictures of Scorpia were taken by Jan Doe, as she called herself. Jane found herself drawn to the fetish scene, and she began to dress Isabella up as Scorpia, using a mix of traditional metal styles, and softer fabric styles. Finally, people were getting all the pictures of Scorpia they wanted. Low resolution versions were freely available, and the larger high-resolution files available only to subscribers. Subscription was moderate, to keep out cheap pirates. There were images of Scorpia having her way with Deanna, in which both Deanna and Scorpia were largely dressed, and there was a thread of humor that went through each sequence. This was a typical feature of the genre, which also often featured a storyline, in the style of subtitles in silent movies. Since there was not an iota of violence in Isabella's body, the photos satisfied Jane's reluctance to promote violence. The proceeds were divided between Scorpia and the two girls, with the girls getting the lion's share. Isabella needed the money, and Jane was saving on her behalf, not knowing how well she managed her finances. There were some men who hung around her, but Jane understood that Isabella was extremely conservative and cautious; she would play, but she would not do something really risky. It appeared that she was a virgin in the general sense that she had never had sex.

Deanna, of course, was comfortably off at present, but who knew when she would need funds? Jane gave her the money, and put more away on her behalf, and told Heather.

"Feature me," Heather asked earnestly, "isn't there something I could do with Scorpia?" But Jane wanted to keep Scorpia a dominant, rather than a submissive, in broad terms, so that it was impossible to feature Heather in any interesting way.

CHAPTER NINE

# Living With the Gift

## Black Belt Scorpia

Jane happened to find out that Heather had learned a particular style of martial arts. "Well, _you_ could be Scorpia, if we could only find a sparring-partner for you!" said Jane.

"Why don't you learn? Then you and I could spar, and get a camera going by itself... it might work!"

Jane was willing, but she wanted to learn properly, not simply for the sake of the photographs. So Heather undertook to teach her the basics. Their training schedule became more rigorous, and Jane began to eat more carefully: low-fat, high-protein and carbohydrate meals. By Thanksgiving, she was beginning to attract looks for quite different reasons than before.

—:—

## Trouble at the Station

Jane was getting very good at the martial arts. She was quick, and she was smooth. Heather had been at it for many years, and she had lots of experience. But Jane danced through the routines with sure instinct. "Man," exclaimed Heather, "I can't teach you anymore; we better go see my _sensei!_ " Jane met the great man, and was soon enrolled in their program.

They backed her down a couple of steps, and instructors began to work with her. By Christmas, Jane could fight with anyone except the black belts. Jane was an utterly unaggressive person, which stood her in good stead. She never lost her temper, and always used the gentlest move that would serve the purpose.

"You are too nice, Jane," said the master. "Use what is easiest, not softest! If you are facing _this_ way, use _this_ kick! Common sense!"

"Yes sir," she said, as she had been taught.

She had to teach youngsters of ten and eleven, all part of earning her belt. She had been given five junior belts at one test, to bring her in line with others of her level. She had paid her dues by smashing blocks of wood with hands, feet, and even her head. Now she had to teach, and her teaching had to be assessed, and then she had to demonstrate the forms, spar, and show her skill at the various weapons that they used. The weapons were a small group, because this particular discipline was one of the less deadly flavors of the martial arts.

"Jane-san," said the Master, "in this town, you need to learn a different kind of thing. With what we teach you, you can't defend against gangsters, and people with knives. You understand?"

"Oh, I'm not trying to defend myself, master," she had said.

"Then what? Are you going for competition?"

"N-no..."

The man looked at her in puzzlement. Jane, of course, could not tell him that she wanted it learn just enough to make an erotic video.

"Let's get our belts, and go to the Korean place," Heather said quietly as they headed home one evening, battered and bruised. That Jane would earn her belt was a forgone conclusion. But Heather was beginning to see how limited her training was.

That very night, they ran into trouble at the train station. A group of boys —about six of them—approached them, calling out insults about 'Judo', which was not in fact the style they were learning.

"Here!" cried one of them, suddenly tossing a board at Heather. With lightning reflexes, Jane whirled and shattered the board in the air. "Shit!" cried one of them, as they backed away. Jane glared at them, and strode into the station with Heather.

"This stuff is pretty good!" Jane murmured, looking pleased at herself.

" _Lookout!_ _"_ cried Heather, looking over Jane's shoulder. The boys had tossed a metal bar at Jane. Just in time Jane stopped herself from trying to smash it. She pushed it aside, and ran towards the boys at full tilt.

"You wanna play?" she asked, kicking the nearest fellow on his buttocks.

"Bitch!" he cried, and pulled out his knife. In a fraction of a second, Jane had kicked it out of his hand. Others rushed her, but Heather was there, whirling like lightning, pushing the circle outwards. Suddenly, there was a gun in the hands of the smallest member of the gang.

A police cruiser rolled up, sirens blaring.

" _Put it away, asshole!"_ cried one of them. The gun was pointed straight at Jane's head. The policemen got out of the car, and the toughs ran. A second cruiser chased them through the alleys.

"Don't try to fight them," the officer said to the girls, a little later. "Just run. Just run, you hear?"

Jane nodded, eyes wide with fright.

Jane held Heather and wept. "I lost my temper!" she said, feeling like dirt. It had never happened before.

"You were protecting me," whispered Heather, still barely believing it had happened. There was no doubt that it was for Heather that Jane had fought.

—:—

Jane occasionally spent time with the Varady's, Maria and Sue, and often Sue would give them some privacy. As the weather got wetter and cooler, she simply read by herself in a corner, listening with half an ear to Jane and Maria, jumping in to interrupt occasionally. But most of what the two women wanted to say and do, they learned to do with Sue in the room.

Jane succeeded in learning enough Hungarian to carry on a simple conversation. They found that cooking a simple meal together was as satisfying as sex, in certain ways. Sue's relationship to her mother was such, now, that the two of them could share Maria's feelings for Jane, as if they were sisters.

## Thanksgiving 2000

"Tell Mama about Thanksgiving," Sue told Jane.

"Why don't you?"

"It's... I think you would do a better job. I'm not being lazy, Jane, I want her to understand properly."

"Okay, it's like this," began Jane.

She loved to explain things to Maria; there was such intelligence in her eyes, her face was so expressive, her eyes so wise, it was a wonderful experience.

"Yes, I understand," said Maria, at the end of it. She sighed. "For Zsuszana and me..."

"Will you join us, Maria? I would love to celebrate Thanksgiving with you and Sue, all of us together!"

Maria smiled a rueful smile.

"It is not correct, no? It should be one family, together."

"Then where should I go? To Deanna... or come here?"

Maria looked steadily into her eyes, her lips trembling.

Are you saying... you are part of my family, now?

_Yes,_ said Jane, in Hungarian. Zsuszana vigorously agreed, looking intently at her mother.

For how long, Jana?

_Only... only until you throw me out_ , Jane replied.

This is my home... I am in control here! This is the only part of this world, where I can say something, and it is done, and if I want to do something, I can! In your house, what am I? A visitor!

I will give you a part of my house, and it will be yours!

Maria glared at her in anger, but finally looked down, a slight smile on her face. She looked around the apartment, and then at Jane.

"With all the money,... we could afford a better place!"

"You certainly could," Jane agreed. She glanced at Sue, who looked a little upset.

"But... there are so many memories, Jane... they mean a lot to me; maybe not to you."

"Well, if you think none of this means much to me..."

"Mama! Stop it!"

"Forgive me, Jane... I think of all I have lost..."

Jane walked to her and took her hand.

You have to choose, she said in Hungarian, whether you want to stay here, in this country. I have money set aside for you both; I can send some every month, if you go back. You will be comfortably off. If you choose to stay... you must take the first steps to be happy here! You can't live in a little Hungary; you have to open your heart...

We will come. I can't be arguing with you.

It was a little difficult. Having learned Hungarian, Jane was open to the subtle feelings of homesickness and bitterness in Maria's thoughts. In English, she essentially stuck to facts and decisions and practical things; she struggled to express her feelings for Jane, but otherwise, it was all about what to do, and how to do it. In Hungarian, Jane received the onslaught of all her bitterness and self-loathing. No longer did Maria seem an angel; she was a human being with all her faults. Yet Jane loved her more each day. She seethed at the reluctant capitulation, but a part of her exulted; Maria now had someone to fight with, in Hungarian, something she hadn't had for a long time. She couldn't fight with Zsuszana for obvious reasons: their relationship was fragile and desperately important, too important to take chances with. She was firm when necessary, but the child could not be an emotional punching-bag. Jane was wise enough to realize that being talked at like this was a kind of acceptance.

As it happened, their back porch at West Chester had a large gas grill, and most of what Maria cooked could be done perfectly well on the grill. When she saw it, her eyes opened wide, and she began thinking of possible things she could make.

"You've gotta tell me, so I can make different kinds of things!" said Deanna, grinning. "There's no point you and me making two different kinds of beef, or whatever!"

"Yes, I think carefully and tell you, wait!"

"Think fast!"

Maria looked at Jane, bemused. _Tell her I'll decide in a couple of minutes!_

"She says she'll be right over to tell you! You're crowding her!"

Deanna laughed, and skipped into the house. Sue went back and forth between the inside kitchen and the back porch in an excited frenzy. "Calm down," Heather told her with a grin, "this is going to be one to remember!"

"We could make corn pudding; I bet they don't have something like that," Deanna said. "Let's make a list, then we can strike things out when she's got her plan together."

How many things, then? At a feast back home, we have sometimes about ten things, sometimes only three! I don't know!

It's the same here; I think we're going to have about ten things, so we should make five, and let them make another five.

Five things... goulash, obviously; then there is a sweet—it's Austrian, actually—very rich... is that a problem?

Not at all!

Heather was the arbiter. Deanna and Zsuszana would cook inside, and Jane and Maria outside; at least that was the theory. But Zsuszana was too excited to stay in one place very long, and ended up with her finger in practically every pie. Heather's patience was miraculous, especially with Zsuszana. There was a small turkey, for form's sake, but the rest of the dishes were a wonderful variety of fat- and sugar-filled American recipes, and fat- and sugar-filled Hungarian ones.

After cooking, everyone showered and dressed, with Jane sneaking in a shower with Maria, and Zsuszana showering with Heather and Deanna. It made the two women very anxious, but as far as they knew, showering was not a transmission risk. Ever since they had learned that Zsuszana was underage, they had made themselves think of the girl differently, an attitude confirmed by Jane's burgeoning relationship with Maria. Zsuszana was a niece, albeit a precocious one.

The meal was eaten with quiet satisfaction. There were only the occasional sounds of contented munching, and an occasional exclamation from Sue. The Hungarian dishes were a good variety, which Deanna and Jane ate with relish, even if Heather and Zsuszana stayed away from the most spicy ones. Maria declared she liked the turkey and cranberry sauce, but she confessed she couldn't eat too much of it. The other traditional dishes Deanna and Zsuszana had made were all eaten up in no time.

After the meal, Jane and Maria snuggled together on the sofa, while the other three played board games on the kitchen table.

_I'm happy I came, beloved_ , said Maria softly. _As always, you were the wise one._

And, as always, you are kind and generous, and forgiving. Your husband was a fool to leave you; someday I would like to know what went wrong.

So many things. A thousand little things, dear; a thousand things that would have gone wrong anyway. We began to see things in each other that we did not like; he saw 500, I saw 500... we were finished. I can't cry about it. I am thankful he allowed me to keep the child; there is very little of him in her. He went to Las Vegas... then to Rio, and he died there.

Oh god!

He was an idiot. May god forgive him.

Supper was a simple meal of leftovers and bread, and Jane saw Maria and Sue home afterwards.

"Stay with us tonight!" begged Sue.

"I think I will," said Jane, feeling adventurous. All the dishes had been washed, and the house was all clean at West Chestnut.

They slept chastely on the bed, with Maria snuggled in Jane's arms, and Sue cuddled against her back.

The following day, Jane went home to find Arthur asleep in the guest bedroom. He had been over to Mary-Ellen's for Thanksgiving, and decided to come to see Jane afterwards. The others had made him comfortable, and there he was.

Jane could hardly bear to see him now; it seemed so utterly unfair that he should be infected with HIV when still in his teens. He had always been a decent lad; his vices had been innocent ones, by and large. He had experimented with sex just one time, with a fellow he met at a rock concert, a boy of about the same age, who had been out for a while. The boy had been friendly, and they had liked each other. After a week, the boy had asked, and Arthur had said yes. It had to have been that one night that resulted in the transmission. Arthur had not enjoyed that part of it; the touching and caressing had been wonderful. Then, a few days later, the boy had told Arthur that he was in love; he was leaving with his new boyfriend for Florida.

Arthur had never seen him again; he could not even remember his name. It was Alan, or Adam, or something like that.

—:—

## Another Year

Christmas and Hanukkah were celebrated quietly. Ann, once again, visited to say goodbye before she headed for Germany. Jane was touched at the girl's loyalty. Their extended family was now known to all the models, and Zsuszana had become a sort of pet.

Maria alternated between wanting to have nothing to do with those people, and admiring them. She had an eye for women, and studied every project the girls got into. But she hated any hint of sleaze, any story about spouses who strayed, or predatory men. Jane felt uncomfortable at that; after all, she regularly slept with a woman who had a committed relationship with a man. But this was Maria's guilt; she saw in these other sinners an echo of things she herself had done, and felt a need to condemn them.

Afterwards, Isabella sat with them, all excited, her pout gone, and asked if they had plans for New Year's Eve.

"Not really," said Heather, tired, but too polite to throw the girl out. "We could go dancing," she said.

"Shall I join you, please?"

"Sure, why not? Maria and Sue will probably come along, though."

She wrinkled her nose, but said that would be fine. They would all go together, and they would really dance.

In spite of the awkwardness of having Zsuszana tag along, the six of them had a good time. Heather and Deanna largely danced with each other, and Jane had to keep Isabella, Maria and the kid happy. Fortunately, Isabella liked dancing with Sue, who was getting to be a good dancer herself. Isabella kept looking around, and it was only afterwards, once they had come home, that Jane wondered whether Isabella wasn't looking for Scorpia.

—:—

## A visit to California

[Author's Note:
I have lost the manuscript for this chapter, and it was never transcribed into a file, my apologies! I'm putting it here in as complete a form as I can remember. Even worse, I think it belongs earlier in the story.]

One day, right after the New Year, Heather and Jane decided that it was time for Deanna to re-connect with her parents.

Deanna argued with them about it, obviously not eager to go back and face the family, but Heather and Jane persisted, and finally Deanna capitulated, when she realized that the other two would give her moral support.

Heather had a beat-up old Toyota station wagon that she kept stored in Long Island somewhere, and they spent a few days fixing it up so that it could handle the cross-continent road trip. It had air conditioning, and a cheap stereo that would play CDs, and they packed it up with some clothes and food, and set out, after making sure that Maria and Zsuszana would be all right on their own for a while.

The trip was an education for Jane, who had not been west of Pittsburgh since she had turned fifteen. Heather had traveled moderately, and Deanna, of course, was from the West Coast, but she had mostly flown long distances, so driving across the continent was a new experience for her, too.

They stayed in rest areas, except for one night when they slept in a tent in Missouri. They were all three feeling the need for a little fooling around, and it was an opportunity for indulging in intimate touching, to relieve the tension they were feeling at the imminent meeting with Deanna's family. It was her father she was worried about; though she said both her parents were very conservative.

After many adventures, they were finally over the Rockies, and on the fifth day, they were heading into Los Angeles, and Deanna was greatly concerned with the changes that had taken place since she had been gone. They found the house—a modest ranch in a respectable neighborhood— and parked on the street, and walked up to the front door feeling very nervous.

It was Deanna's younger sister, Miriam, who came to the door. She flew into Deanna's arms, and began to weep with happiness.

"I was so worried about you! You never wrote, you never called! Oh Deanna, that was so cruel!"

By this time, a couple of younger siblings were at the door, exclaiming in surprise at seeing Deanna again, and the visitors were hauled indoors, and the parents came to see who it was. Deanna's father was home, since it was almost noon on Saturday.

After the introductions, Deanna took a deep breath, and with great awkwardness explained that she shared a sexual relationship with the other two girls. Once she began, she gained courage, and though her father looked angry and disapproving, a little defiance crept into her tone, but she politely continued, explaining that it had been Heather and Jane who had insisted on the visit.

Deanna's father was not openly hostile, but began to quietly but inexorably ask very pointed questions from Jane and Heather, about their life in New York, the conditions under which they lived, how they were regarded in the community, what sorts of families they came from, and so on, until Deanna's brothers and sister began to be furious with their father, though they never interrupted him.

Finally, Deanna's father got to his feet and declared that it was a lot of foolishness, and put on his hat and left.

Deanna's mother invited the girls into the kitchen, asking for a little help with lunch. After some discussion, she lay down her knife, washed her hands, and turned to the girls.

"I think it took a lot of courage for you girls to... come home and face the music." She looked at Deanna, and opened her arms, and they were hugging and crying together, and Jane and Heather looked at each other, greatly relieved. Gradually, Deanna's younger siblings all came in, and seconded Deanna's mother's feelings, and praised Deanna for her courage, and thanked Jane and Heather for providing a home for their sister.

A room was found for them in the enormous house, and they stayed the night, though Deanna's father grumbled from the moment he came back home at night, until the girls had said their goodbyes, and Deanna's mother had hugged Jane and Heather, and extracted a promise that they should stay in touch.

It was only when they were well on their way back East, that they realized that the family had not been told about the threat of AIDS.

"There's plenty of time for that," said Jane, who was at the wheel. "When the time comes, I guess I'll be the one to tell them."

"You don't have to take the blame, Jane," said Deanna, quietly.

"Not the blame; I'm just willing to be the one to tell them, that's all."

Deanna was seated in the back. She was silent for a while, and then she said, "If not for you, I would not have gone home ever. I would not have seen my Mom, and..." She was very emotional. "I missed Mimi so much! I'm so glad we did this!"

"I thought you would be," said Jane, sniffing.

Heather had a smile of quiet satisfaction. The visit may not have gone as well as they had hoped, but all three girls felt that it had been a success in most ways.

CHAPTER TEN

# A visit to Belgium

## Stephanie

[Again, this episode has been lost, and I'm reconstructing it briefly, because Stephanie is an important character.]

One day, Arthur came in with a strange letter addressed to the by now well-known artist, Jane Doe. There had been more than a hundred letters like it, but something made Arthur send it along.

It was a commission. Strangely enough, it was not a commission to paint a portrait of whoever was writing, but of someone else from photographs. The letter read:

Dear Ms. Doe,

I am a successful athlete, but it has been some time since I have competed, and I have given up competitive athletics for a few years. But I have been recently haunted by the image of the instructor and coach who was mainly responsible for my successes.

She is a lady from the former East Germany, who took me under her wing when I was barely in my teens, and practically gave her life to making sure that I was going to be the best. After many years, we moved back to the US, and we lost touch with the lady. At first we had visited her in Belgium at least once a year, but when my parents split up, it was no longer easy to meet up with her, and I was too wrapped up in my continuing success, and I neglected her. When I recently returned to Belgium to look for her, there were no signs of her, and there was no trail I could follow.

I am hoping that you can make a painting of this woman for my private use. I want it to be beautiful, a combination of these two photographs I'm enclosing. My plan is to make the picture well-known on the Internet, with the hope that she might come forward, wherever she is, and we can be reunited. It might be a silly idea, but I've run out of ideas, short of hiring a detective, which is an idea my family is unhappy with.

You may call me, or write, whichever is convenient.

Yours,

Stephanie Johnson.

To Artie, of course, the name Stephanie Johnson meant nothing, but to Jane it rang a bell. It was the name of the Olympic diver whose video Jane and Deanna had watched some years ago. The thought of meeting Stephanie Johnson face to face was exciting, not least because, to Jane's mind, Stephanie was a truly beautiful woman, amazingly athletic, perfectly built, with lovely manners, compelling eyes, a lovely voice, and good style. She could have done anything, gone into any occupation, and been an incredible success, but she was a self-effacing, polite, decent woman, at least in the few instances she had been shown on television.

"Do it! Do it!"

Jane was looking at the photographs, at the woman who had been Stephanie's coach. She looked very German: blonde, with light-colored eyes, and in one of the photographs, she had her arm around a youthful Stephanie Johnson. The other photograph showed the woman on the winner's stand of some athletic event which she had won, wearing the gold medal, but it was a newspaper clipping, and not very clear. Jane was drawn to the beauty of the woman, who had been identified as Edita Meyer.

They called Stephanie Johnson, and were immediately invited to meet her in her home, on the strict condition that Jane's identity should not be revealed. The voice on the phone was the one Jane remembered from her youth, but now older and more cautious.

Stephanie Johnson was at the gate to receive the three girls in a fashionable suburb in New Jersey. She was tall, easily six feet, but her youthful grace was gone; she was just a little too heavily muscled, evidently having taken up the new passion of "Body Sculpting" that was popular with athletic women. She received them with great pleasure, and showed them around her fabulous home, and they finally settled down to talk.

There was a maid, called Tiffany, and two little boys, of just a couple of years of age, and they had an enormous mansion just for themselves. There was an Olympic-sized pool with a diving-board, a music room, a fantastic gym, with a deluxe weight machine, and a dream bedroom that could have been from a Hollywood movie.

After some discussion, Stephanie agreed to pay for all materials, and Jane agreed to do the work, having gotten detailed instructions from Stephanie. It was quickly becoming clear that Stephanie was infatuated with the newspaper photograph of her coach in her youth.

"I found that in an old scrapbook, and..." she blushed furiously. "You probably think I'm very strange, but...I think she's beautiful, and, she...she comes to me in dreams, and... makes love to me."

Jane shrugged, carefully not catching the eye of either of her friends, who were seated close by. Normally, Heather would never ridicule that sort of statement, but Deanna had a sense of humor that might find it funny.

"I'll do my best; I'll do a pencil sketch, and then you can tell me how you want it changed, or whatever. I'm still just an amateur, you know; but I'll try my best."

"Oh no. You've gone _way_ beyond being an amateur!"

"But, for the purpose of promising you something..."

"I understand. But I have faith in you!"

A little after four, Stephanie's husband showed up, and after being introduced to Jane, Deanna and Heather as simply friends, he talked to them about stocks and Wall Street until they were thoroughly bored. The man, Angus, had made good in the stock market, and Stephanie had been too overwhelmed with his affluence and his courting to resist. He was good-looking in a conventional, middle-class sort of way, but the girls were relieved when he went off to have an early supper, and left them alone.

Stephanie stopped short of rolling her eyes, but she made it clear that, if not for the two little boys, she might have left him long since. They were very religious, and Angus, at least, was very conservative, and Stephanie said it was her duty to be a good wife and mother, now that they were a family.

There were other details Jane had to know, for instance, what the color of the woman's eyes were, what sort of art it was to be, and so on, but Jane was looking forward to the project, and they left in a fair state of excitement, asking Stephanie to give their respects to her husband, who was busy.

For the sake of brevity, I leave out all the details of how the painting took shape. Suffice it to say that Stephanie was delighted with the sketch Jane had made for her, and soon Jane was at work on a large canvas, showing Edita gloriously nude, which is how Stephanie had wanted it.

By the time the painting was done —and it was a wonderful effort for a painter who had as little experience as Jane did— Stephanie was obsessed with the idea of making one more trip out to Belgium, to look for Edita.

Stephanie had paid Jane handsomely for the work. She insisted on paying her several thousand for the painting, as well as so many dollars an hour for each hour Jane had worked, which came to an enormous sum. Jane could therefore take the summer off, and one day, Stephanie, Jane, and Maria set out for Europe by plane. Maria was being taken along in case their search involved traveling to Eastern Europe, because Stephanie suspected that Edita might have family in the Czech Republic, or Slovenia, or Poland, or even Hungary. This was all very overwhelming for Jane, but Maria grabbed at the chance to travel back, and Zsuszana was to stay with Deanna and Heather, who solemnly promised to look after her.

—:—

## Around the pool

Jane began to get an increasingly clear picture of Stephanie's attitude towards her body: she hated it. In the abstract, she knew that women liked it, she knew that it was healthy and well-proportioned; she worked at it, and made the best she could with it. Angus considered her handsome; she had to continually fend off his amorous advances. But she longed for the slim, boyish figure she had as a youngster. She was attracted to such women, Jane guessed; that would explain why Stephanie was attracted to Jane herself. Jane knew she had a boyish figure—proportioned much as Stephanie's was, but slimmer, far less heavily muscled, and softer. The fact of Stephanie's remarkable physical beauty together with her warm, loving personality made it hard for Jane to think of Stephanie's unhappiness.

Meanwhile Jane was noticing the increasing attention Maria was giving Stephanie. Maria loved Stephanie's body, Jane knew; she had told Jane often enough. How academic was it, Jane wondered. For that first half an hour each morning, she watched Maria smooth oil on Stephanie's naked body. Unlike Jane, she applied it all over her, and Stephanie let her. They were unbelievably intimate, physically, but apparently it was all in play. To Stephanie, Maria was her little toy girl, and to Maria, Stephanie was her pet goddess.

Back in the hotel, around them, the younger members of the hotel's customers had all been engaged in mild sex play of the same kind, though actual sex was never observed. When Jane was around, they desisted, though it hurt to see them suddenly whisper together and stop when they noticed her coming over. Jane was fairly sure that Stephanie would never allow Maria to cross the line of play into actual intimacy, but Jane was never absolutely certain of it.

One day, they went out shopping, the two of them, and when they returned, Maria had a big box with her: it turned out to be one of the latest cameras.

"I got a camera!" exulted Maria, unnecessarily.

Jane smiled, but exchanged a silent glance with Stephanie. She just _knew_ that Stephanie understood that it had been a mild violation of a code: you didn't buy someone else's lover a truly extravagant present. But Stephanie's eyes pleaded indulgence, and Jane gave it in a slight smile only Stephanie could understand.

They watched Maria unpack the camera, and take out the accessories that Stephanie had also bought her, put it all together, and take her first photograph: of Stephanie, obviously. Then Jane's attention turned away from her jealousy to how confidently Maria was shooting. She obviously knew a lot more than Jane had suspected. Why not? She probably had a camera, somewhere in that apartment. Jane watched her posing Stephanie carefully, and marveled.

"Is it all right?" Maria asked Jane softly, once Stephanie had gone into the bath.

Jane nodded and smiled faintly. "Why didn't you ask me?"

"Because... I want to make her happy," said Maria, disingenuously.

Jane nodded again.

Maria gave her a big hug and kiss.

The previous night, they had made love. Stephanie had said calmly that if they wanted to make love, they should. She could either turn the other way, or she could wait downstairs for a few minutes. After a moment's silent consultation, they had told her she could just turn round, if it didn't bother her.

"Bother me? Why? I think it's beautiful. But privacy is a relative thing; how much you need depends on how you were brought up. Are you sure? I'll keep very quiet."

It had been strangely erotic, to have an audience. Though Stephanie had offered not to watch, both girls secretly hoped that she would. After Jane had mounted Maria and done with her what she preferred to do, she lay supine, and let Maria make love to her. Maria's hands felt far sweeter than usual, her lips softer, her licks more delicate, and Jane's skin seemed incredibly sensitive to her touch. It took longer than the usual half hour; they kissed until they were relatively calm, and then called out softly to Stephanie.

"I'm awake," said Stephanie, softly, and they could hear a soft smile in her voice.

"Sorry it was so long," said Maria, almost cooing with tenderness.

"That's fine... that's wonderful," said Stephanie. "Good night, Jane; g'night, Marie."

" _Bon soir, cherie,"_ said Maria in the soft, sweet voice she used with Stephanie.

That afternoon, camera slung on Maria's shoulder, they set out to pick up the trail of the elusive Edita.

The first stop was the house Stephanie's parents had rented when they had last seen Edita; it was once again available for rent, and so the friends could go inside with the landlord. It was nothing but a large efficiency alongside a pool. Evidently their entire lives had circled around Stephanie's swimming, and she later told them that she had won her first event at eleven, and kept winning from then on.

—:—

## The little house with the pool

Their next stop was where Edita used to live. It was not her home, but rather just a room she had rented, so that she didn't need to go home. The room was still rented by the same person, who tried her best to find a record of where the particular tenant lived, about whom the giant American woman was inquiring. A Frenchwoman? No. What nationality? Belgian or German,... Stephanie could not be sure. All she knew was her name: Edita Meier. German then; but possibly Austrian or Swiss, even Russian. Stephanie showed the most recent photo she had, and the woman smiled and shook her head. It was too much to expect to remember a face that long, she said. There was one Edita, and they followed that address, and it led nowhere.

They checked the YWCA. Edita had _some_ connection with it. Again, the records appeared to point to an Edita Varenkova, who had given a permanent address in Prague.

"Prague!" exclaimed Jane. It seemed miles away.

"Come on," said Maria. "And then, we go Budapest, right?"

The woman at the YWCA grinned. It wasn't such a big trek, and could be fun.

Stephanie looked at her companions for a long time, once they were outside the building. "I've come this far," she said, "I've got to go to Prague. And you must come with me!"

"Sure," said Jane quietly, "where you go, we go too." Maria nodded, her eyes wide.

Stephanie's gratitude warmed them. Maria, of course, would go anywhere with her, and they all knew that. But Stephanie wanted Jane along. It was as if Jane was her talisman against danger, or who knew what. Or, perhaps, she dared not take Maria with her without Jane coming too.

"Tonight is the concert," she reminded them. "Then, we go. The train is the best."

Maria nodded, her eyes lighting up.

Jane decided to wear a beautiful blue dress with spaghetti straps that showed off her back, with a matching shawl. Maria wore a little black dress, and a black pearl pendant on a gold chain that Jane had managed to buy for her before Stephanie did. She looked stunning, with her hair put up, with her makeup perfectly applied. It looked as though she wore very little, but it had taken almost an hour to apply, with translucent foundations in the perfect shade, and so on and so on. She was a little self-conscious about her freckles, and wore a light dusting of powder even on her breasts. But god, she looked spectacular.

Stephanie was the most stunning. She wore a sheer black blouse with a built-in lining that covered the breasts, which stopped a few inches below the lower edge of her bust, and a tiered black skirt over black hose, which left her midriff bare.

She looked at the other two anxiously as she came out of the bath, where she had changed.

"You like it?"

Maria quickly grabbed her camera, and took ten minutes worth of photographs.

As always, they sat with Maria in the middle, and thoroughly enjoyed the concert. It was almost all unfamiliar, but the sounds were soothing, at first, and as the music unfolded, it was as if they knew it well.

"That's the way it's written," Stephanie explained, as they walked to the hotel. "The catchier parts are rotated in all the time, to give you a feeling of familiarity; and then new music is introduced, to give you a feeling as if something interesting is happening. And then you come home again, to the familiar tune. You see?"

Jane nodded, pleased at the idea. "There's no other way to do it, really, is there?"

"Yes, I hear it too," said Maria. "And I knew the first one."

"The Brandenburg?"

"Yes, Brandenburg! You know it?"

"Of course! I didn't have any idea you knew classical music, sweetheart!"

"I only know little," said Maria, blushing in the dark, squeezing Jane's hand as she showed off her knowledge to her large friend.

Taking the train was an adventure. It began to hit Jane very strongly that they were far, far away from the US. In some ways, train travel was the same all over the world, but in others, there were significant differences. It was soon clear that Maria had traveled in Europe, but not so much as to be jaded. They had sleeping berths, courtesy of Jane, and traveled in comfort. At long last, they arrived in Prague, or Praha, as it was called by the Czechs.

—:—

## Praha

Though they were utterly enchanted with the other-worldly city, Stephanie was resolute about going about their main business. They found a place to stay with some difficulty, though being fluent in French was a definite advantage. Jane was fascinated to watch Stephanie talk, slowly but perfectly, she knew. Stephanie's voice became musical and mellow, as Jane admired the dexterity of her mouth. Stephanie's dexterity constantly belied the apparent stiffness of her body. She was massive, but not in the least stiff.

It took two days to find the address, but to their surprise, the place was still there, and to their amazement, one of the neighbors knew the Edita who had lived there, and recognized the photograph. Maria, to no one's surprise any more, could speak a little Czech, and it was she who was interpreting.

"Who is this child, here?" demanded the neighbor.

"This lady here," said Maria, laughing. "Why do you ask?"

"This lady! Oh, she has grown!" said the toothless old girl.

"But why do you ask?"

"Well, Edita had her picture all over her house, that's why! She must be Norwegian!"

"Yes, yes," said Maria, impatiently. "But where is Edita now?"

"Well, she left them, you know? She left her husband and their little girl, and they were here for a while, and they've been gone, oh, twenty years, maybe. He married, and went away with the new wife. She was a lovely girl, but . . . I was Edita's friend, you understand? They kept away from me, and I kept away from them." She shrugged, as Maria frantically translated.

"No letters, nothing?"

She shook her head.

"You know what? Let me see; I have a box..."

She certainly did. It was a big cardboard box with all her newspaper cuttings. She looked through it slowly, and pulled out a yellowed photograph clipped from a newspaper, of a very young Edita, beaming at the camera, pasted side by side with an equally yellowed, but more recent photograph of what could only be Stephanie, wearing a medal. Edita had anticipated, more than a decade ago, what Jane had contemplated doing, but had not actually done: juxtapose photos of teacher and pupil.

Without a word, Maria pulled out her camera, and took a careful photograph of the pair of cuttings. The woman smiled and said yes; she wanted to keep it, but take all the pictures they wanted.

"It'll never come out; too close," said Jane, frustrated.

"You'll see," said Maria, putting away her camera, having taken a photo of the old lady.

"But it's a dead end anyway," said Stephanie, obviously trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. "Well! Here we are; shall we go over to Budapest, _cherie?_ Do you have family there?"

Maria stopped in her tracks, and looked from one to the other of them with troubled eyes. Her eyes unfocused, and Jane wondered what went through her mind.

"No," she said presently, "there's nobody... I'm not ready Jane... anyway, when I go, I must go with the girl."

Jane and Stephanie exchanged puzzled glances at the contradictory response to Stephanie's question. Jane opened her mouth to argue, but Stephanie shook her head just the tiniest bit.

"Whenever you're ready, we'll go," said Jane quietly.

"You'll come with me?"

Jane said yes, and was rewarded with the most wonderful smile. There was a lot to learn about Maria.

In contrast to the journey out, the return journey was a sober one. They were cheerful on the outside, but Jane felt deeply sorry for Stephanie's disappointment. In retrospect, it seemed a no-brainer that the quest would come to naught; after all, they had tried ten years ago, and failed. It was a miracle that they had made any headway at all. The YWCA had been rather a desperate clue.

For the third time, Jane and Maria made love, and this time Jane was aware of Stephanie touching herself in the other bed, quietly, but still audible. It aroused Jane terribly; she clutched Maria's body to her in a frenzy of desire, making her cry out in pain and passion mixed. As never before, Maria cried out as she came, a deep strangled cry that was seared into Jane's memory.

"Animal!" she cried out softly to Jane after they collapsed. "You hurt me that time!"

"I'm sorry," whispered Jane.

" _Cherie?_ " called out Maria to Stephanie, "are you okay?"

"Hmm?" came Stephanie's barely audible reply. Jane could hear her trying not to pant. Jane had some idea of the pain of disguising the aftermath of an orgasm.

"Cherie?" called Maria, and struggled out of bed.

"Wait, Marie!" hissed Jane. But Maria had flown over to Stephanie's bed, still smeared all over with stickiness. Jane only heard a rustle, and imagined that it was Stephanie turning over. She heard Stephanie's hard breathing, and Maria's gasp. Jane imagined Maria clutched to Stephanie's naked breast, and could almost hear them kissing.

It was nothing new; Maria and Stephanie kissed naked all the time. But the fact that Stephanie had brought herself to a climax listening to Jane and Maria make love made her feel oddly uncomfortable. Mainly because it was Stephanie.

The next morning, they spent in bed. Maria was tired and sleepy, and Jane and Stephanie talked. This was what they had come for, Jane remembered, and they talked about all the things that Stephanie wanted. It started with people, and psychology, and family values, but went on to sex, and sex and sex.

Once Maria woke up, they showered, and headed downstairs to get a brunch. They fooled around in and around the hotel, with Maria trying to cheer Stephanie up, and Jane watching both of them, getting herself unbelievably aroused. They had just about four days left, of the ten-day trip. Jane fantasized about doing a lesbian spread with Stephanie and Maria. It was only a fantasy; there simply was no way to make it happen, and no way Jane herself would allow it.

Still, she kept inventing poses for the two girls; what if they weren't making love, but simply being sweet to each other? Jane had seen lots of spreads—the Russians were particularly good at this—where two girls posed together nude; there was definitely the tension that went with the forbidden nature of intimacy between women, but the composition of the shots was more architectural, more inspired by dance duets than sex as such. You could do a lot: depict admiration, adoration, even; desire, tenderness, jealousy, flirtation, an entire gambit of moods. The photographer him- or herself was a third member of the dynamic, which introduced the possibility of teasing, the mischief of two girls tantalizing a voyeur.

After a while, Stephanie and Maria approached Jane with the idea of renting the pool house in which Stephanie had lived, just for the last few days. Jane shrugged and agreed. They moved out that very afternoon, and found themselves in the furnished efficiency, already graciously provided with bread, cheese, butter, fruits and wine. All the essentials, Jane thought, smiling. Stephanie and Maria were off to shop for groceries before Jane could gather her wits. They were soon back, and fixing supper.

Jane decided to swim. The water was warm, and swimming had always been a treat for her. As she lazily swam up and down, she realized that Maria was taking photos of her. She stopped at once and scowled at her. Then she saw Stephanie getting in the water, gloriously nude, just as Jane was.

Once they were tired of swimming, Maria wanted to take a series of photos of Stephanie.

"No, Cherie," Stephanie said softly, "in the water, that's fine; but..."

"It is only for me! No one will see them!"

"No. Please, no."

Maria nodded and put the camera away.

"Jane! Will you pose for me?"

"I'm not a model either, sweetheart; I don't want nudes of me on the Internet."

In the end, they were back to the applying of tanning oil, and the sad, sweet entertainments of desire that would lead nowhere. Most sad was Stephanie applying oil on Maria's body, as she stole glances at Jane. Jane caught her looking, and Stephanie was too honest to snatch her eyes away. She smiled a plea for forgiveness that was almost more painful.

"You are so kind!" Maria murmured to Stephanie, holding her hand to her breast. It would normally have made Jane furious, but a week of it had made her realize that Maria kept her adoration of Stephanie completely separate from her love for Jane.

—:—

## Digital Manipulation

One of Jane's pastimes was fooling with images in her computer. She now owned a lap-top portable computer, loaded with software and a few of her favorite images. After a year of experimentation, she knew miraculous things she could do with images; she could transform then so that the beauty of the basic human form was untouched, but the colors shimmered in such a way that the face of the model was unrecognizable. It was easy to paint on a mask that made the face impossible to recognize, but the object had never been to disguise the subject, but to transform the picture for its own sake. She had a procedure that would cover the body of the nude with the appearance of tattoos. It was one of Jane's favorite things to do; she loved and hated tattoos and body jewelry. With her new-found interest in fetishes, body modification was an obvious next step. She often fantasized her favorite models with every inch of their bodies either pierced or tattooed. Yet she would fiercely argue against actually doing it, because it seemed wrong to tamper with a beautiful body, such as those of Deanna, or Heather, or Isabella.

She had ways of artificially clothing a nude with vinyl. It was incredible what was possible; some of the other procedures could be made to look like dressing the nude in sheer, but colored tights. It began with a careful smoothing out of the tiny flaws of the model, after having saved the background separately. Jane cropped out all but the center of the picture containing the model. This was less about design and composition than it was about being preoccupied with genitalia. Jane knew well that she was obsessed with the human body, in all its infinite variety of perfection. She began to smooth all the large areas of skin, one by one . . .

It was only when she had done one of the most incredible transformations on the photo that she realized that Stephanie was watching.

"That's unbelievable!" she murmured.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Practically the whole time... Jane... it's just... _incredible!_ It's _beautiful!_ "

She sat on the floor close by, and soon Maria came to watch, too, standing by Jane's shoulder.

"Oh, Jane, try this one... let me show you..."

Jane let Maria take over the computer, trying to regain her composure. Maria was stark naked, and she sat on Jane's lap and began to mouse through her files; she seemed to know exactly where she was going.

"This one!"

It was a wonderful shot of Isabella, Jane had to admit. Isabella stood in that boneless way of hers, utterly relaxed, her pelvis tilted just right, her incredible genitals smooth as silk, and innocent as those of a newborn child. She held a slim vase carelessly in her hand, and the other rested against the doorway. Her pout was a lot less in evidence here; she was in a good mood. Her hair was just slightly in disarray; she looked utterly desirable. Stephanie was not breathing.

Maria gave the computer to Jane, and settled down to watch. She had seen Jane fool around with images before, but had never really watched.

Jane began by saving the image to the desktop under a different name. Then she selected just the body infinitely carefully, and started to play with it. By some crazy accident, the image ended up with delicate swirls of color on every inch of it except the eyes, lips and nipples.

They admired the result, and talked about it, and continued to play with the image, until sheer hunger made them put it away and have supper. At the end of the meal, Stephanie asked whether the same thing could be done to a photo of her.

"Can you do it... and then paint it in oils?"

It had never struck Jane before. The swirls closely followed the natural contours of the body, and served to emphasize the features; in the case of Isabella, for instance, her breasts looked deeper and fuller. The character that was Isabella was gone, of course; what remained was essentially an abstract. But that abstract captured the beauty of Isabella's form, even if some of her soul was missing. In Isabella's case, much of her remained; the girl's genius was how much she expressed with her body. Her face remained the same, but the body often spoke on her behalf. It could be coy, it could be flirtatious, it could be aggressive, it could be tired, it could be flighty: all with the way in which she stood, held her hands, the angle of her head, her shoulders.

Suddenly she realized that it was indeed possible to show the world Stephanie's beauty.

Early the next morning, Maria started shooting Stephanie. She shot her in bed, getting out of bed, doing all the things she usually did. Then she shot Jane rubbing oil on her, and Stephanie and Jane talking to each other.

"Get closer!" she said, excitedly.

"Marie," Jane remonstrated.

"Please!"

It was impossible to resist the temptation. Pretending to make love to Stephanie was a fantasy come true. Stephanie laughed when Maria asked her to take Jane onto her lap; Jane reclined on Stephanie, as Stephanie held Jane's hands in hers.

"Open your legs!" Maria called out, clicking away.

"Why?" demanded Jane, frowning. Click, click.

"Because you're more beautiful that way, Jane!"

"You are," murmured Stephanie in Jane's ear. "Don't be ashamed of your body."

"You're a fine one to talk," Jane grumbled.

"If I had your body, I'd show it off," said Stephanie, with utter conviction. Jane snorted. "I would," said Stephanie, softly.

Later, when Jane looked over the photographs, her heart pounded. She had never seen herself nude before, except the weird photographs of her dressed as Scorpia, which were not nude anyway. She disliked her face, but her body... she decided that it had its points. She wonder whether girls who got into the nude modeling business did so because they liked the way they looked?

Stephanie was in a fever of excitement. She looked at all the shots of her, and Jane could imagine what she was thinking—more or less. Did she like all of herself, or just her body, or just her face? Whatever it was, she wanted a portrait of herself in oils. Not a big one, in fact, she did not even want the portrait; she wanted an image of a rendering in oils of a transformation of a nude study of herself. Maria was nodding furiously; and Jane knew that Jane herself wanted it just as badly.

She began. The background was isolated and modified so that it was no longer recognizable. Then Jane began to smooth out the body, and to transform it.

Because of what they wanted it for, Jane was taking particular care, and it was time-consuming. It didn't help that each step made Stephanie look sexier and sexier. By mid afternoon she was exhausted, and her vision was beginning to blur. The other two were talking by the pool, fully dressed, for a change. It was as if the project had purged their libidos, at least temporarily.

Jane put the computer away, and went outside. They smiled up at her, without an ounce of the usual guilt that she detected. Jane felt suddenly wonderful.

"I'm exhausted... what shall we do?"

"This is a nice little village," Stephanie said, in her lovely warm voice. "Let's take a walk around it!"

They changed into fun clothes, and Maria slung her camera on, and they stepped out the door.

They were startled to find someone seated on the bench outside. They smiled politely, and were about to continue, when Stephanie turned to look again at the old woman who sat there. They stared at each other for a long time, the old woman squinting at them, and she suddenly lurched to her feet, and came closer.

"Stephanie!" she said, in a rusty voice.

"No... Miss Edita?" Stephanie went close, and a wondering smile broke out on her face. She put her arms gently round the woman, and began to sniff loudly.

—:—

## Edita is Found

"I was in the neighborhood," the woman said, in French, with a quiet smile that still had the echo of her youthful beauty. "I wanted to see the old house again!"

"Where do you live now?" asked Stephanie, infinitely gently, as the others sat round and watched and listened with deep satisfaction.

"Frankfurt," the lady said with a chuckle. Jane laughed; in the neighborhood, indeed!

"Stephanie," the woman said, "how tall you are, and how beautiful!"

"Tall, yes, beautiful: I don't think so; I'm too muscle-bound," said Stephanie, smiling indulgently.

"You have big genes," said Edita, with a shrug. "If you don't like how you look, put on a little fat. Smooth yourself out, dear."

"I'll be enormous!"

"Just a little; you can control it. Do you swim?"

"Yes, Edita! Every day. And I work out with weights."

"Cut down on the weights, then."

Stephanie looked at the other girls and laughed. "She still has advice, after all these years!" They laughed with her, and Edita joined in. She had studied them all with obvious admiration. Jane had no doubt that the old girl had always preferred women. She wondered why she married.

"Oh, it's so good to see you... I'd like to take you home with me!"

Edita's smile went away, and she looked serious. Her eyes were still as beautiful as ever, the same yellow-grey color. Her lips were still full and expressive. She was still handsome, and healthy. The tiredness that seemed to surround her when they first saw her was much less in evidence.

"I will come, gladly," she said, utterly honest.

Stephanie's eyes grew wide.

"Are you serious?" The old woman nodded, with a faint smile.

"There's no one else who cares for me, child... I'm all alone... I've had lovers... and husbands... and children... and now I'm all alone. I wonder why you're here?"

"I came to find you!"

"Me? Why?"

Stephanie shrugged, and came to quickly kneel by Edita's side.

Edita's face showed shocked disbelief. She looked around at the others, who smiled and nodded confirmation. Then they were embracing, this time it was Edita who wept, silently.

All Edita wanted was in a carpetbag she had with her. She had put everything into the bag, and headed out to Belgium, to the little suburb that had been the scene of her second triumph, the first triumph of her youth had long been forgotten by the world. Stephanie carefully refrained from asking what she would have done once she saw the house, and relived her memories. At any rate, she no longer looked spent; she was taking an interest in their plans, and even tried to talk to Jane in her terrible English. With Maria she had a number of alternatives: they both spoke French and German.

Stephanie now had someone she could lavish gifts on to her heart's content, and Maria was only too happy to keep them company, while Jane stayed behind with her computer. In one day, everything was ready: travel papers for Edita, an air ticket, clothes. She was shapeless, and refused to get in the water, but watched the girls swim with approval. She concluded that Jane and Maria were lovers, and told Maria that her girl was a stunner. Jane was astonished when Maria told her.

On their way to the airport, they stopped by the hotel, to pick up their messages. There was one asking Jane to call home. Jane called, and Heather told her, with great reluctance, that Arthur had come down with pneumonia.

"Just pneumonia?"

"Jane... "

"No! No, don't say anything!"

"Sweet, it was bound to happen!"

"Where is he?" Jane demanded.

"In Mary-Ellen's home. They've got all the equipment, and there's a nurse . . ."

Jane could not process any more information. She gave the phone to Maria, who listened, shocked, as Heather repeated the information to her. Stephanie tried to make out what it was all about, and comforted Jane.

It was in a somber mood that they got on the plane, early in the morning. They arrived miraculously at the same time they had left Brussels, and hurried to Jane's home, with Stephanie and Edita as well. Gabe was there to take her to their home.

"He's... very sick," he said, sorrowfully. "He could last several days..."

Jane only wailed in her misery, seeing none of them, but only her beloved brother. She silently cursed herself for not giving him more of herself; for the selfishness that had kept her refusing to give him what he wanted, though it was something that embarrassed and frightened her. At least, she thought, she had shown him what it was to be with a woman.

By the time they reached the house Gabe shared with Mary-Ellen, Arthur had passed on. Jane looked at the shell of what had been Arthur, and felt only fury.

"What can I do to help?" she asked solemnly of Mary-Ellen, who shook her head, her heart breaking for love of Jane. "There must be papers and such!"

"I'll take care of them, love!" Mary-Ellen said. "Let me hold you, Jane!"

It was then that Jane could shed the few tears she had left.

They returned, and Stephanie and Edita were still there, talking to the others. Jane thanked Stephanie for her kindness and patience, and hugged Edita, and those two departed in a taxi. Now it remained to put her life back together, after having neglected Arthur so terribly.

—:—

## Mimi calls

Mundane things took their attention: SATs for Zsuszana, the complications of settling Arthur's affairs, catching up on piled-up work, making Maria feel appreciated, making Deanna feel safe. Heather kept her fears carefully hidden, but Deanna's eyes showed her fear. Mimi called, and Jane told her that one of their friends, with whom Deanna had had an affair, and who had probably infected her, had died. Mimi was scared silly.

"Will sis be next?"

"It depends," Jane said wearily, "we caught Dee earlier in the progress of the disease than Artie. Who knows how long Artie was infected? Dee's been taking the medication, and it slows down the rate at which things happen."

"Can it stop it altogether?"

"I don't know; they told me that in some cases it did, but I can't remember the details. I must read up some more... "

"Oh Jane!"

"Keep clean, love; you're such a sweet girl! You know what to do, don't you?"

"You mean... keep away from guys?"

"Well... for some people, that's too hard, I know!"

"Not for me. I'm so shit scared... oh, here's Mama; wait, let me tell her..."

Mama was not happy at all, but she was restrained. "Was it someone you knew well?" she asked.

"My brother," said Jane, choking.

"I had no idea... oh Jane... how did all this happen?"

"No special reason, Mama! I guess we were both too interested in sex, and... we both left home early, and got careless..."

"Look after my girl, Jane dear; you don't imagine how precious she is to all of us!"

"I know, I know... oh, I'd love to see you all again! Even Papa, bless him..."

There was some laughter on the line, and with a few more words, they rang off, and Jane felt the weight of the responsibility of having been the reason that Deanna met Arthur. How ashamed her own family would be to learn of Arthur's death!

Finally, they got the Scorpia video released. It was quite a success, if not the brilliant success Jane had imagined it would be. But the experience Maria and Jane had gained from it was priceless. She knew that erotic animated cartoons were things only a few crazy amateurs indulged in. Some day, when they had the energy, they could create some really startling animations.

In the late spring, Zsuszana became the star of their little world. First, she was invited to a tennis tournament, as a member of her school team, and to everyone's delight, she advanced steadily through the rounds, and was the champion. It was just a regional event, organized by the USTA, but it made Zsuszana crazy with joy. Just after the winning point, Isabella leaped over the dividing fence onto the court, and pulled Zsuszana into a delighted hug, before the grinning officials hustled her off the court. Zsuszana was now a really beautiful girl, well-fleshed-out and healthy, a beauty not only of the flesh, perfect skin, perfect features, and beautiful bones, but also the intelligence and humor that shone from her eyes. From being despised by her classmates, she had progressed to being admired and envied by some, and well loved by others. Isabella had to compete with a couple of boys, now, but the two girls were largely an established item.

Scorpia continued to make appearances, and there were constant requests that she should make a hardcore video, or pose nude; Jane was scornful that there should be such great fascination over a character who was played by different women on different occasions. It was just silly. But she always enjoyed attending the occasional gathering with Isabella and Heather, though Dee was now too afraid to go among large crowds.

Jane had a long talk with Dee.

"I _know_ you're going to eventually get sick and die," she said one day, when Deanna had been particularly fearful and depressed. Deanna looked at her, upset and scowling. "But you've got to keep happy and occupied, darling; sex is only one thing that makes you happy! But there are others, aren't there?" Jane felt a lump in her throat. "I'm happy just... to be close to you, and listen to you talk, and watch how your face changes with your feelings... you're very special!"

"But you have Maria," said Deanna, and for the first time, she sounded bitter.

"We all have other people," Jane reminded her, and Deanna colored in embarrassment as she studied her hands. "None of us can take somebody else's place!" Jane smiled at her, though her eyes threatened to spill tears. "Heather can never take my place... and Marie could never take yours! It has nothing to do with more, or less!"

"You've been very good to me," Deanna said in a low voice, becoming red.

Jane only shook her head. They were talking past each other, and she wanted with all her heart to snap Deanna out of this funk, to have her be once again the one who radiated joy in their world, the fountain of energy, the girl with the large heart who loved everybody. Jane closed her eyes, and big sobs shook her. She covered her face, ashamed to show how much she missed Deanna already. After all, Deanna did not exist just for Jane.

She became aware of soft arms about her, and Deanna climbed onto her lap. Jane held her fiercely, and cried, "I want _you_ to be happy! I don't want you comforting me, baby!"

"I _am_ happy," Deanna said softly. "Oh Jane... how did you do it?... It's like: I believe in fairies... oh, how angry you are, love! It's okay..."

Jane allowed herself to be comforted by Deanna. It was the beginning of a new chapter in their relationship. Deanna took pleasure in 'comforting' Jane, a little bit every day, and it seemed to make her more cheerful, less preoccupied. Jane wondered whether she had been sincere in how she had confronted Deanna. But of course she had been! It seemed arrogant to take credit for bringing Deanna out of herself, but Jane was very pleased with herself.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lunch with Stephanie

Summer

Then it was time to work on Heather. The weather was warm enough that they could go out and play tennis, she, Heather, Zsuszana and Isabella. Often Maria came to watch. Afterwards, Jane would hug Heather, and whisper words of love in her ear.

"I've neglected you, and one day I'm going to be sorry," she said, quietly, so only Heather would hear.

"Well . . . hugs are nice," said Heather, just as softly.

"If I forget to give you one every day, you just come right up and get one, okay?"

"You're doing your best, kid; nobody can do more. You're my hero!"

Jane felt tears coming on. But Heather was so easy to look after; she hugged her tight for a long time, kissed her cheek, and gave her a watery smile. The others watched them, looking a little confused. Jane was in tennis whites, dressed like a girl, and it was disconcerting.

Jane made occasional forays into the world of women, but for the most part dressed in male clothing. Thanks to Deanna, who spent a great deal of time browsing the web, and Zsuszana and Isabella, who had made it their mission in life to dress Jane as beautifully as Jane's perverse habits would allow, she had a nice wardrobe of jeans and sweaters, and shirts cut so cleverly that they made her look attractive without making her look feminine. But she had bought her tennis dress on her own, sneaking out all by herself, just to make Heather feel good. Judging from their looks, she had succeeded beyond her expectations; on the long walk home, everyone vied to walk with her, or walk behind her, studying her.

Arthur's death was still an open wound. It had soured her relationship with Mary-Ellen, for no obvious reason; Mary-Ellen called, and Jane did not answer. Heather and Sasha and she spent a great deal of time setting up ways to continue the work Arthur had done for them. He had been paid modestly, just as the girls had paid themselves as employees of the corporation, but he had used far less of the corporation's resources. It began to emerge just how selfless he had been.

On his computer, in the modest apartment in a distant part of town where he lived, Jane found a shrine to her: a folder simply labeled Sis, which had photographs of her gathered from wherever he could find them, including childhood photos she had long forgotten, that he had stolen long ago from family albums. There were two poems to her, beautiful things that would have made anyone weep. She was alone when she opened it up; she carefully hid it, anticipating that Sasha would need to look at the records Artie kept on it.

However, no matter how hard they tried, the energy had gone out of Scorpia. Since every idea had to be handled logistically by Jane and Heather, everything seemed too much work. They all seemed to drift away from Scorpia; Jane made the compulsory appearances, and looked for photographs to put on the website, and removed older photos, just to keep the website constantly changing. Isabella depended on the income from it, as did Maria and Zsuszana, though Jane had skillfully begun to channel a lot of their routine expenses to herself. Maria still paid the rents and utilities, but Jane paid for a lot of Zsuszana's clothing, as well as Maria's; and their taxes.

Heather took up teaching tennis. She qualified as a tennis professional, and was hired by the USTA to teach a community program in the Summer. Deanna had decided that she would be a gardener, and began to plant things in the back of the house, refusing to be discouraged by the poor results she was getting. She wanted to use no artificial fertilizers, and Jane—her main consultant—was at a loss; all the farming Jane knew depended heavily on chemicals.

Maria and Zsuszana were preoccupied with finding a college or university for the kid. Jane knew she should be more involved in that, but she simply tagged along when they went for interviews, not taking the effort to steer Zsuszana towards good schools. The girl had good SAT scores, better than Jane's, in the high 1500s. Jane simply could not think, at that time, about what schools were good, though she had studied such things in depth when she was about to graduate. Perhaps, in a corner of her mind, she resented the fact that Zsuszana would have the education she herself had forgone.

Jane had not contacted Stephanie after they had returned. Stephanie had her number, and she'd call when she was ready, Jane figured.

One day, Jane felt a warm hand on her arm, and a jovial voice asked: "Excuse me, Miss, I forget where you keep the frozen bread dough?"

She and Maria were grocery shopping at the suburban supermarket at which she used to work, just for a change of scenery. She turned, startled, and recognized a young male customer she had known about a year ago, before Scorpia's sensational success.

"Hi!" she smiled, and turned to orient herself. "It's on aisle 4 . . . come on, I'll show you."

"I'll find it; oh, obviously, with the rolls and stuff..."

Jane laughed, despite his new confidence about finding his frozen dough. "There you go!"

He thanked her, and suddenly realized that she was a fellow-customer.

"I thought you worked here!"

"Not any more," she said, grinning.

"That was kind of you! Thanks again!"

"Sure!" said Jane. She turned away, thinking bitterly that working in the supermarket was a lot easier than trying to maintain a porn site. People were grateful... you actually saw faces. The members of the Scorpia site were largely an anonymous bunch, and she suspected that she would prefer not to ever meet them. Their service e-mails often consisted of replying to indignant and surly messages. Heather was a genius at keeping hostility out of their messages back to angry customers, and replying warmly to polite inquiries.

At one time Jane had preferred to watch the world from behind the safety of her windows. But now, she wanted to be able to see and hear people, to smile, to help. At one time, all her frustrations went away after a good night of sex. Now, the lovemaking that Maria and she shared was a necessary part of their relationship, and Jane was satisfied with a lot less of it than Maria needed; yet sex alone didn't satisfy Jane. She often found herself making up excuses to go shopping, just to watch other families, with young children; there was such poetry in the sheer concentration of an eight-year-old looking for an item for her father. Was it pedophilia? Did she fantasize the child nude? Jane had to answer yes, and her heart went cold. Did she want to touch the child? Again, yes. But her desire was _not_ sexual.

Or perhaps it was.

One night, when Maria and Zsuszana were staying overnight, she asked Maria: _am I a pedophile?_

Maria was a wonderful person to bounce philosophical ideas off of. But, though she was quite conversant with the subject of pedophilia, she was incapable of being objective, where Jane was concerned. They ended up more upset together than Jane had been on her own.

"One thing I know, my love," Maria said, "you will never harm a child. You will never harm anyone!"

"If I want it badly enough... I probably will, Marie."

"No. You are a creature of love, not desire. Desire, yes, but love rules you. If you desire the child, or desire the sensation more than you love the child, then you may hurt it. But... I know you. Your love will come to the rescue! Yes, my angel... oh, I will pray for you!"

Jane was startled.

"I didn't think you were... religious!"

"No, I am not... I don't know . . . I am confused about that." She looked very upset.

"What religion are you, Islam?"

Maria looked at her with scorn and indignation mixed. Jane realized that, with a name like Maria, she was probably some flavor of Christian.

"Catholic, of course! Jane, you are so stupid. Islam, yeah, right."

"I didn't mean to insult you, Marie; I just forgot the names... Maria, Susannah, both from the Bible... right?"

"Anyway, in Hungary, is mostly Catholic, Jane, and maybe communist. Okay, yes, a few Muslims, but... very few. And not me, anyway."

Jane was now accustomed to going about with Maria, holding hands, like lovers, behaving like a couple. It was something that was almost unbearably sweet for Jane, to belong to the woman at her side, to see her glance with such love and admiration at her every once in a while. She had often watched other lovers, the way they turned to each other as they consulted, sometimes silently; the way they walked through doors together, the way they walked into a restaurant. Some couples were clumsy and awkward. Others seemed to dance through life with dignity, grace and charm, and Jane had desperately wanted to be a partner in such a marriage. Jay had been a slob, a slug. They had seldom gone out, except to drink beer, or to a steakhouse. Jane had enjoyed the food, and the beer. But her soul had remained hungry for the rest.

But here, she found herself in that dream; except that it wasn't _her_ in the role of the graceful, gracious woman; Maria filled that role with more grace, more charm, more beauty, more dignity than any other woman Jane could imagine.

One day, Jane went back to work at the supermarket, and they were happy to have her back. Every afternoon, she had her shot of seeing people, young mothers shopping with their infants in back packs, or seated on the grocery carts, college students puzzling over what to buy, sad-looking women looking hungrily at the men in the store, and all the men eying the prettier women. She no longer cared about the money; it was an investment in sanity.

—:—

## Shopping for Schools

"Okay," said Zsuszana, trying not to look angry. "I've registered."

"Where?"

Zsuszana said the name of a commuter university. It was an open university with very modest entry requirements, though with a good reputation.

Maria looked at Jane, expressionless. She had insisted that Jane try for an Ivy-League school, and Zsuszana had refused, and Jane had backed her up. But Zsuszana had secretly wanted to go to a good school, which meant fighting for a scholarship. She had hoped that Jane would help her, but Jane had simply stayed out of the whole thing. Isabella had been certain that Jane would jump in at the right time, but she hadn't.

Zsuszana sighed, watching Jane. Jane had never finished college. Zsuszana noted with mild interest that Jane looked disappointed. Oh, she disguised it, but oh yes, she was disappointed. Zsuszana was perversely satisfied. Isabella would be angry, both with her and with Jane.

"It's a good school," said Jane, not sounding convinced.

"What was the hurry, Zsuszana? Why you not try Princeton, Columbia, Williams, Penn? What about Swarthmore?" It was a riot, the way she pronounced _Swarthmore_.

"Money, Mama. Beggars can't be choosers."

Her mother ran outside and slammed the door. She was seated out on the top step, crying, Zsuszana knew. She rolled her eyes and got to her feet.

"I'm sorry," said Jane softly, looking miserable. Zsuszana's eyes were ready to overflow.

"I'll forgive you in a couple of days," she said, giving her a watery smile. "A couple of years, more like it!"

"How much did you pay?"

"Just a few dollars; it's just a hold. The bill is a couple of thousand."

It was hard to comfort her mother. She was not angry, she was broken-hearted. Their new-found improved circumstances did not automatically ensure that Zsuszana would get the best possible education she deserved. She cursed herself for daring to dream for her child. Zsuszana understood this perfectly.

"In two years, I'll try to transfer," she whispered to her mother. "I should have made Jane help me more," she added.

"We should have both helped you, child... but when Artie died... "

"I know."

Though Maria had realized that there was nothing to forgive Jane, it came between them. Maria didn't have the heart to be loving to Jane that night, and for the next several nights.

"When will you forgive me?" Jane asked, at last.

"For what?"

"I don't know... for... Zsuszana's college?"

"It's a good school," Maria threw back at her.

"Come here, Marie, please!"

"I'm tired!"

Isabella was angry. It was comic how she acted as if everything Zsuszana did reflected on her! She was furious with Jane, but when she was actually face to face with Jane, she only looked reproachful.

"What's up?" asked Jane, knowing perfectly well, but amused all the same.

"Why you not help Zsuszana find a good school, Jane? She has such good SAT scores, and she plays tennis, and everything! And she is so cute! Some good school will take her, for sure, no?"

Jane nodded. She tried to think of the problem for the hundredth time, forcing herself to remember the issues. What did it take? Zsuszana had the SATs, the class rank, the athletic credentials; they could get letters.

Isabella came and sat beside her at the kitchen table, propping her head on her arm, turning to look intently into Jane's eyes. She was using her feminine wiles—something she had never done with Jane before, but it was done unconsciously. She was giving all she had for _her girl_. Jane smiled at her; the couple both amused her and touched her with their affectionate behavior and their mutually protective attitude.

"If they see her, they will say yes, at once!"

Jane shrugged and smiled, though she secretly agreed. If only Zsuszana's scores were _just_ a bit better...

"You and me, we'll take her! Come on, Jane! We do it for her!"

"Travel around with Zsuszana?" Jane laughed, a little uncomfortable.

"Yes, why not?" frowned Isabella, sitting up straight. "Maybe sometimes they will take her! We can try, no? Oh, come on, Jane, you can drive! We can rent a car, and go!"

Jane was amazed at Isabella's determination. She did not have the confidence to do anything herself, but she brought the phone down to Jane, and the phone directory, and said, "Call, call! Get the best car, Jane... this one!" She pointed at the most expensive and most reliable car rental agency, but Jane laughed and called a more economical competitor. "Call your supermarket. How many days? We go everywhere. Swarthmore... " She rattled off a long list of schools in the area. She had certainly been doing her homework.

"Listen, if she goes off to a residential school, you won't see her. Think about that!"

Isabella pondered that.

"Weekends, she will visit."

"It'll be expensive, to bring her home every weekend."

"How much? Rental and gas, maybe... $100? A little more?"

"Every week?"

"I don't care... I will do it."

"And... Isabella... she may meet someone out there... "

Isabella's face went pale.

She pondered that for a long time; obviously this was something she had not thought about. She said as much, after a while. Jane began to have an inkling about how much Isabella wanted Zsuszana to herself.

"No," she said, dropping her eyes, playing with the phone book. "I will call her every night. I will give her my photo... a nice one, to remember me!" She looked up at Jane, and said something in rapid Italian which Jane could not guess the meaning of. She looked down at the table again, her face twisted in doubt, but with increasing determination. It was the triumph of love over desire. "Anyway," she said with a deep sigh, "she must have a good university. That is important."

Zsuszana and Maria were surprised but agreeable. There was a look in Zsuszana's eyes that said that she didn't think the chances were good. But Maria's eyes shone with hope. One evening in July, the four of them set out.

Finding the places was a challenge, but they got into the first town just at about sundown and drove around. They had called ahead, but the admission's office had politely warned them that they did not accept late applications. But they were welcome to visit, and there would be someone ready to talk to them in the morning.

It was fun having Isabella with them, because she had such an interesting take on anything. She had a quiet curiosity that nicely balanced Zsuszana's intense attitude to life. They let the youngsters prowl around on their own, with a few dollars to spend, and Jane and Maria walked through the streets of the town, discussing the two girls. Maria, like Jane, was both amused and touched by Isabella's loyalty to Zsuszana, and they brooded over what kind of future the girls would have together, as adults.

"I don't know how committed Sue is to... a lesbian lifestyle," Jane said. "I don't know about Issy, either."

"They are not thinking about that," said Maria softly, clinging to Jane's arm. "Zsuszana likes Isabella, she is sweet, she is beautiful, she loves Zsuszana; how can she not like her? How can she turn away from that?"

"Yeah; but there's more, Marie... look at how Issy fought to bring her out here!"

"I know... Isabella is thinking: Zsuszana is bright,... she can have a good future... she is a good sex partner, maybe?" Jane made a half-amused sound of agreement. "At that age, Jane, I did not think more than that, and see what happened!"

"Why?"

They had never talked about Maria's youth.

"I don't know; excitement, something new, a way to escape... "

"You think Zsuszana wants to escape?"

"I think Isabella wants to escape."

"Oh Marie! You think she's unhappy?"

"Can't you see her face? She is only happy with us... and when she has to go home... "

"I thought that was just the way her face was!"

Maria shook her head. "She trusts only us. If she was sure you will say yes, she will come and live with you. But she will never ask."

No matter how many shots Jane had taken of Isabella stark naked, to see her in a nightie cavorting with Zsuszana aroused both her and Maria. But they acted the senior couple, and tactfully ignored the youngsters once the lights were out. As they fell asleep, they could still hear the two of them softly cooing to each other. Jane felt an irrational desire that the relationship of the two girls should mature and deepen and become firm; there was something poetic about it that gave Jane a guilty pleasure.

The visit was interesting. Once it had been established that Zsuszana had absolutely no chance of being admitted that Fall, their counselor began to become interested in Zsuszana. She showed the girls around the school, pointing out all sorts of things, and noted carefully how Zsuszana responded, while Jane and Maria noted the guide's response. The guide was a lovely woman a little younger than Maria, and she seemed very admiring of Zsuszana indeed, as well as of Isabella. Issy had dressed conservatively but stylishly in a blouse and skirt, and was trying her best not to paw Zsuszana unnecessarily.

"I see here that you say you play tennis! That's wonderful!"

Zsuszana smiled and nodded.

"Play for your school?"

"Yes, uh huh. I won a local tournament, actually! Is that good?"

"Really? Which one?" she asked, writing it down. "Do you play any instruments?" she asked, sweetly. Zsuszana shook her head sadly, and Isabella looked at the guide in dismay. Maria groaned softly, as Jane tried to comfort her, smiling. "Do you sing?"

"Oh, yes!" smiled Zsuszana, as Issy's face lit up with new hope.

What were her hobbies? Photography and modeling. What nationality was she, if they'd pardon her for asking? Hungarian? Why, that was wonderful! The school liked to have a diverse student population, you know; that would certainly be taken into account. Let's see, now: what were her favorite subjects? English, Math and science? And literature and art? Very nice.

The same experience was repeated at each school, with interesting variations. They mentioned unbelievable school fees, but told her that there would be generous scholarships, and loans to cover whatever they could not pay. Zsuszana returned home with four offers from the six schools, and the remaining two held out the hope that she might be given a place in the spring, or the following year, if her grades were good.

Isabella was in heaven. Not a demonstrative girl, generally, she carefully gave Jane a hug, and declared that Jane had accomplished a miracle. In her terrible English, she told Zsuszana to thank Jane properly. Zsuszana prettily did so, pleased to have schools that she really wanted to attend.

Jane was humbled by it all.

"Issy, you did it. You made us go; you deserve all the credit. You better thank her, Sue."

"Oh, I plan to," said that one, her face serious, but her eyes twinkling. Isabella blushed and punched her in the arm.

The trip took a lot of energy out of Jane. But she still found energy to worry about her fascination with children. How sinful was it, to want to touch the soft skin of a child?

As it happened, Stephanie called, after having been silent for a couple of months.

"I thought I'd better call you, and see how you're doing," she said.

"Oh... I should have called, Steffie... thanks for the card; you have no idea how much it helped."

"I wish I could have helped more."

"There's no way to help, girl; Marie, Dee, Heather... they were all here, but... it still hurt. And it still does; I'm just getting used to it, that's all."

"Will you come and see me? No, I'll come to you!"

"No... I'll come; it will be a nice change. I'll come on a week day."

Stephanie laughed a little nervously. She was again in her role of wife and mother.

"How is Edita doing?"

"Oh, wonderfully! She's getting to know the area, the libraries, the parks, she's made friends with Tiffany and the kids, and Angus! Oh, he's so... well, annoying, with his usual American crap, but she laughs.... It must be wonderful to be wise, like that."

"It's wonderful to be patient, like you are!"

Stephanie was silent.

"When can I see you?"

—:—

## Lunch with Stephanie

It was an echo of Mary-Ellen's desperate inquiry. A part of Jane longed for the analogy to be fulfilled completely, but she cared for Stephanie, and knew that her life was on a razor's edge that she should not carelessly put off balance.

One Monday a few day later, she headed out to Princeton, early in the morning. Princeton had been one of Zsuszana's destinations, but on that trip Jane had stayed carefully away from the part of town where Stephanie lived. It remained to be seen where Zsuszana would go. Princeton was one of the most expensive schools, though they had an equally aggressive loan program. But Zsuszana had the scary prospect of finishing school with a hundred thousand dollars in debt. For a middle-class girl with two parents, both with steady employment, Jane figured, that wasn't so bad.

She was met at the door by Stephanie herself. She was startled to see that Stephanie looked fatter. But her face had softened, her legs looked smoother, her eyes looked brighter; she looked completely different.

"You love lovely! What happened to the hard body look?"

She drew Jane into a warm, tight hug. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!"

"It's only been a couple of months, girl!"

But Stephanie's eyes devoured Jane hungrily, as if she were water in the desert. "Come on in," she said, enclosing Jane in her embrace again, and gently guiding her inside. She wore a soft cotton skirt and rubber slippers, a white tank-top that showed just an inch of smooth stomach, and a loose blouse. Her hair fell to a little below her shoulders in soft waves. She looked plump, but miraculously, she looked smaller.

Once inside, she hugged and kissed Jane yet again.

"Come on, into the kitchen, I know Tiff wants to see you again! And of course, Edita... Here she is, ladies!"

Edita looked younger and more vigorous. She had a good tan, she had lost some weight, and her hair was neatly braided. She had new glasses, and seemed more together. Tiffany beamed from the back, her eyes disappearing into her chubby cheeks.

"Welcome!" said Edita, smiling.

"It's good to see you, Miss Jane!" said Tiffany. "We've missed you!"

The first hour or so they fed Jane, and plied her with tea and whatever else she wanted, took her around the house, showing her where Edita's room was, and the pictures the boys had brought home from school, and the pictures Edita had brought with her in her carpet bag.

"Come on, let's go into the music room," Stephanie said, and Jane nodded to the other two women and followed her. Stephanie opened the door, and backed inside, looking seriously into Jane's eyes.

"Tell me honestly; am I too fat?"

"Fat for what?" Jane asked, tongue in cheek.

"Do you like me this way?"

"I don't like you because of your looks," Jane said, at once feeling as if she was talking out of turn.

"I thought you did, at one time," said Stephanie, her face utterly serious. There was no reproach in it.

Jane blushed and dropped her gaze.

"I deserved that," she said softly. She drew a long, shuddering breath. "That one day... when we swam in your pool together..."

"I was crazy," whispered Stephanie, hugging herself, "I try to forget that day, but I can't! What I put you through! What I put _myself_ through!"

"... that day... I came awful close, Steph;... if I was capable of rape... and I think I am, though you might laugh... I wanted you so bad. It was a physical thing; my mind was on holiday; only my cunt and my tits were thinking for me." She looked slowly up into Stephanie's eyes. "I can confess it now, because... I've watched you walk around naked for a week, and I got accustomed to your body... but I'm still ashamed!"

"I felt the same," said Stephanie in a low voice.

But not quite the same, Jane thought; swimmers were accustomed to being nude, and being seen in the nude. None of the nudity Jane had witnessed had prepared her for that magnificent body.

Quietly, Stephanie took off her blouse and her tank-top, as Jane watched in alarm. She looked at the large mirror on the wall, and Jane observed with amazement how different she looked. Rounded and smooth, she looked simply like a large woman, big, cuddly, and sexy in a different way. Jane was fascinated; she knew that her madness would never return; Stephanie's beauty was no longer a sword, a sharp knife, a rose with deadly thorns; it was a sweet flower: a daisy, a melody, a pretty feather.

Stephanie turned this way and that, studying her upper body in the mirror. She turned to Jane and said, "Look at my legs... " she picked up the open-weave skirt and showed Jane her legs, as any woman would show another. But they were not any women; they were lesbians, strongly attracted to each other.

Her legs were still magnificent; they, at least, remained the same in their basic outline, but were utterly soft, smooth, with a layer of fat that made them look like the legs of a woman. Her buttocks looked like Deanna's, touchable and womanly. Her breasts were more full and rounded, her skin was pulled tight, with a soft bloom on them that came from Stephanie's attraction for Jane.

"A huge difference," Jane admitted, her voice hoarse with desire. She cleared her throat. "A little less difficult to look at."

Stephanie put her loose blouse back on, leaving her tank top hanging from a peg. Her eyes shone. "As long as you don't hate it, I'm pleased! I want to go dancing," she said, breathless with anticipation.

"You should," smiled Jane.

"Will you come with me?"

Jane stared at her.

"I came with you to Belgium, Steph; share the wealth around... surely there must be somebody?"

Jane was surprised when she shook he head slowly.

"No one? No one at all?"

Evidently not.

"Want to take a swim?" Stephanie asked, hopefully.

Jane was sorely tempted. She loved the water, now; she loved Stephanie, she knew it was no inconvenience.

"What about Edita, and Tiff?"

"They usually go to market around this time... we'll be alone."

Jane showed with her eyes that she was ready.

They undressed, laying their clothes on the folding table, and got into the lovely, warm water. Stephanie pulled out ahead, and Jane kicked off behind her in her own lane, enjoying the water, and her increased power; in Belgium she had almost doubled her speed.

After a while, she allowed herself to feel the pleasure of sharing the pool with Stephanie. Each time they crossed in opposite directions, she felt the soft push of the water, Stephanie's powerful wake. Each time they crossed in the same direction, Stephanie slowed down, so that they swam together for a short distance. Stephanie always called out a soft encouragement to her. Jane could imagine that their bodies were touching, but of course they were not.

"How many laps?" Stephanie demanded, seated on the edge of the pool, watching her eagerly.

"About ten," Jane said, spluttering as she tread water.

"Five more, keep going!"

Jane swam, now a little self-consciously.

"Slow down; keep it smooth... that's it... no turbulence... use your legs a little more... not too much! Breathe!... Good girl, very nice."

Jane wanted to please her desperately. She did as directed; this was how she had improved her speed. Later she reproached herself for being such an adoring idiot.

Finally she was done; she approached the shallow edge, and Stephanie was waiting there, smiling. Jane stopped swimming, and walked up to her, grinning her pleasure.

Suddenly she was in Stephanie's arms, and they were kissing as they had never done before. Their bodies were pressed together, Jane had her legs wrapped around Stephanie's waist, and her hand cupped her breast, and their tongues were touching, caressing each other, and Jane's body was burning.

At last they turned their faces away, but Stephanie still held Jane tight, and Jane could feel her heart beating, and Stephanie's heart, so loud! She waited until the thudding softened to a soft, steady beat; a long, long time.

"At last," Stephanie breathed, as Jane slipped down, to stand on her feet, their hands still touching. Jane could not talk; there seemed nothing good to say. "It was like magic," said Stephanie, her face contorted as if she was in pain. She put her hand against her heart, pressing hard, and closed her eyes and raised her head, as if in prayer.

Jane laughed awkwardly.

"Come here," Stephanie asked, a soft plea.

Jane came a little closer, unable to resist.

"Do you think that's wise, Steph?" she asked softly.

Stephanie stepped forward, and enclosed her in her arms again. This time, their pelvises weren't crushed together; but Jane could feel her heart beating again. Stephanie was trying to touch her without losing her mind. It was either that, or they must never touch each other again, and that was too much to give up.

Instinctively Jane straddled Stephanie's leg and held her tight; it was something that many women didn't mind, a way comfort was given and received, without frightening intimacy. There had been a time when it scared Jane. But it never meant more than a pat on the buttocks: intimate, but not presumptuous.

"Let's get dry," said Stephanie gently. "I'm going to carry you out!"

"No! Why?"

"Because I want to," said Stephanie, grinning. Jane realized that she didn't hate her grin any more.

It was an incredible feeling, her effortless strength. It was a kind of lovemaking, but Jane knew it was something she could live with. That mad kiss had taken the edge off their feelings for each other. Stephanie grabbed a bunch of towels with her left hand, not letting go of Jane, and, hip to hip, they went into the massage room. Stephanie wiped Jane dry, as Jane stood embarrassed at the intimacy of it. Then she lay Jane on the table, and wiped herself dry, laughing at Jane's dismay.

"I want to do all the things I've wanted to do to you," she said, smiling. "It's okay," she said, leaning close to smile into Jane's eyes, "I'll be good!"

Her dreamy smile never left her face, as she luxuriously smoothed the lotion into every nook and cranny in Jane's body. Jane closed her eyes, knowing that her skin adored Stephanie's hands, and that the pleasure would drive her slightly mad. At the end, Stephanie delicately wiped off the excess moisture that trickled from Jane's crotch. Stephanie tenderly picked her up and placed her on her feet.

"Stop that," Jane told her. "I can get off the damn table, Steph... don't make me feel like a child!"

"I'm sorry!"

Jane laughed, a slight frown still creasing her forehead. "You overdo things, a little, don't you?"

"I guess... are you upset... too upset to... the lotion... maybe I should..."

"Oh Steph; it's okay, get on."

Anyway, they had progressed to another level of intimacy. This time when she offered her lips to Stephanie, she kissed them, and didn't run away. Where would it end? Jane wondered. Was this uncontrolled gratification, or whatever Mary-Ellen had called it? Unrestrained self-gratification.

They were back in Stephanie's little office when Tiff and Edita walked in with baskets full of produce. They regaled Jane with what was available, and the marvels of living in Princeton, and exhorting Jane to move there.

Jane smiled at Edita, who had been grinning and contributing little bits of information to Tiffany's excited recital. Tiffany ran off to put the stuff away, and Edita hung back, as if eager to talk, or at least admire Jane, who was now dressed again, her hair lovingly braided in an elaborate French braid by Stephanie. Jane's eye automatically went to where Edita's portrait had hung, and it was gone. She turned to Stephanie, and saw a look of alarm there, and a minute shake of the head.

"Are you enjoying your stay, Miss Edita?"

Edita's face creased in a pleased smile.

"Enjoy, yes! Enjoy! Stephanie,... babies... very nice!"

We could speak in Hungarian!

Oh! Indeed! Maria has taught you well!

Yes, I can manage! It is good to see you here, with Stephanie!

The old girl's face grew serious.

I was told you helped a lot.

I only encouraged her. Maria helped far more.

She nodded, but dismissed all that with the wave of a hand.

You people don't understand what a family is. All my life I have wanted a family, but now I know: this girl is my family. I have no one else. You see? Yes. You have the look of one who can understand such things. You mean a lot to her, too.

Jane took a deep breath.

_Sometimes it is frightening, what one feels,_ she said, and closed her eyes at the daring of her confession.

_Be cautious, but don't be afraid,_ she replied, a twinkle in her eye.

CHAPTER TWELVE

# Horror

## College

Zsuszana selected the school Jane had expected her to. It was the smallest of them all, and it turned out that Isabella liked the place the best, too. At first Isabella held out for the most prestigious school, but they used trickery to find out which place she felt happiest in, while visiting.

They shopped for supplies to take to school, and Isabella came along, and Jane was touched to see how both girls tried their hardest not to spend any but the absolute minimum. Anything they could adapt, or fix up, or alter, they used: clothes, supplies, toiletries. Isabella gave Zsuszana a gorgeous, expensive hairbrush and comb set, and several unused packets of pantyhose. She also contributed a wonderful, practical piece of luggage. It remained to buy a backpack that could accommodate a computer, and lots of notepaper. Isabella watched enviously as Zsuszana selected academic items such as three-ring binders, and Jane could see the longing in the girl's eyes: a longing to join Zsuszana at school, a longing for the patience and persistence that college required, a longing for the support her family obviously did not give her. Jane wondered whether her occupation was her own choice, or whether she did it unwillingly.

One fine day, they took Zsuszana to school. There was orientation first, for students who were admitted at the last minute, like Zsuszana, after which she came back to report to them. Her room-mates were nice, a Chinese girl, and pretty girl from Pennsylvania. "Like you, Jane!" she said, grinning. Jane checked her schedule: English composition, computer science, introduction to psychology, statistics, ballet, and tennis.

"Ballet?"

"Why not?" Isabella, too, looked at Jane with defiance. It was clearly a good choice; if not Zsuszana, then nobody could excel at Ballet!

Maria suddenly realized that she would be all alone in the apartment. She looked at Jane with stricken eyes. The thought had never crossed either of their minds.

That first night Jane stayed with her, but the following day, Jane persuaded Maria to move in with her. It was time to give up the apartment, a considerable expense. The next few days were occupied with moving, helped by Heather. Most of the odds and ends were put in storage, at a tiny fraction of the cost of the apartment. All Zsuszana's and Maria's clothes were found places in Jane's room, and in closets in the basement. Suddenly Jane's heart felt light as a feather. She grabbed Maria around the waist, and began to waltz through the house, in the madness of her joy.

Tragedy

Maria wandered through the house, blushing to herself, while Jane patiently did a shoot with a new girl, a lovely thing who had found Jane somehow, and wanted to put her photos on her site. She was foreign, but had a fair command of English. But Maria only glanced in at them occasionally; her heart was too full to be concerned with trivialities.

Jane introduced the girl to Maria, and they talked politely for a while, and the girl ate a few snacks and departed. And Jane whisked Maria off, out into the streets, to go shopping.

"Shopping? For what?"

"I... I want to have a secret wedding ceremony, just you and me. And we're going to exchange rings!"

"Rings?" she asked, and then as understanding dawned, her eyes shone.

They found two perfect rings, and came home. The rest of the day was spent in a rosy haze, as Deanna wondered what was up, and Jane and Maria found privacy in different parts of the house, to contemplate their feelings, and what they would bring to the little ceremony.

Early the next day, they showered separately, having spent the night chastely in separate beds. Heather had left early on some errand, and Deanna, after puzzling over their odd behavior, had put on her gloves, and gone into the yard.

Jane and Maria, dressed in soft, flowing dresses they had bought long ago, lit a little candle, and sat facing each other, looking into each other's eyes, their rings in their hands. Suddenly Maria's eyes looked puzzled, and she began to listen. They heard Deanna's feet in the back porch, and then she was looking for them. "Jane? Jane! Hey, you guys?"

"Over here," said Jane, feeling strange. She pinched off the candle, and put away the ring. "Something is up," she said to Maria.

They went to talk to Deanna, when they heard a distant thud.

All was confusion. Nobody seemed to know what the matter was. Everyone on their little street was heading towards the main street, when a man started screaming. "Oh my god... Oh my god, I don't believe it!"

Gradually they learned that two planes had been rammed into the towers of the World Trade Center.

For a while they watched the TV news, which showed the planes repeatedly crashing into the towers, and Jane felt a dull feeling inside, a nauseous, leaden feeling. Maria sat separately, her fingers in her mouth, watching the news intently, long after Jane had sickened of it, and gone away. Deanna kept wiping her eyes, and worriedly wondering whether Heather was anywhere near the accident. They told her it was not an accident, it was an attack. But she kept calling it an accident. Jane simply felt empty and sick. For the first time in her life, she was unable to comfort either Maria or Deanna, the ones she loved most. She despised herself, and them, too.

—:—

The next several weeks were hell. Nothing worked right, nothing could be done; there was smoke in the air, and they couldn't breathe at times. They waited for Heather and Isabella, both of whom had not been heard of since that awesome event. Isabella came to visit a couple of days later, looking shell-shocked. For Heather, they waited in vain. There was nothing of her anywhere. Why she had gone to that location was anybody's guess, but they assumed she had, and was killed, with nothing identifiable of her body left behind.

Mimi called, sounding like a madwoman, late the following day.

"Oh please," she begged, whimpering, "oh tell me my sister is all right!"

"She's fine," said Jane, choking. "But Heather seems to be missing."

"Oh god... let me talk to her! I'm sorry about Heather, okay? Maybe she'll show up!" Jane had said she was sure Heather would show up, and called Deanna to talk to Mimi.

Zsuszana was frantic, wondering if they were safe. Her mother spoke to her, and Jane could feel that Maria was fighting some internal battle. She sounded incoherent, but Zsuszana, at least, was satisfied. She too was stunned to hear about Heather and Isabella. Maria assured her that both women should be fine, but the girl kept calling. She came through late in the day, since the phone lines were too congested. She had been unable to call on the day of the attack itself for the same reason. Isabella was there, by then, and they could hear Zsuszana's relief.

Jane and Maria could not make love; Jane put her arms around Maria, who faced away from her, but let Jane hold her.

"Jane?"

"Yes, love," she had said.

"Who did it? Why?"

Jane sighed. "Political reasons, sweetheart... I guess we'll find out... someone is sure to... claim that they did it, and tell us why."

Jane was proved right. Knowing little of the details of American foreign policy and international affairs, she subscribed to the view that it was the act of madmen whose motives simply could not be understood. It was all envy, the hate of the have-nots for those who have.

Maria began a program of study. In her teen years, living in Hungary, she had heard a lot more about US actions around the world than most US citizens heard. Now she began to teach herself the details of all these things, reading foreign newspapers that she could hunt down, browsing for news on the internet, talking to people in the international grocery stores, talking to Zsuszana on the phone for hours.

Jane became a stranger to her. The love they once shared became mere friendship, over a matter of weeks, and then faded to mere acquaintanceship. Jane was heartbroken, but stoic. Maria insisted on finding work. She was a legal immigrant, and Jane got her a job in the supermarket. Then she found a job in the public library. Soon Jane and she saw little of each other.

Zsuszana was heartbroken. "It's just politics, Jane... I don't understand her!"

"She's very passionate, love... she'll understand, once these people are caught and questioned."

But soon Jane began to lose faith in the proclamations from the White House. Even she knew enough to see that political opportunism was driving much of it.

One day, Jane and Maria found themselves facing each other over the kitchen table. Maria looked as beautiful as ever, only her expression severe and proud. Jane knew she looked terrible. Their estrangement was harder for Jane, amazingly, than it was for Maria.

"Is our love dead, Maria?" Jane asked softly, feeling tears building up, ready to burst through her lids. "Now that I agree with you... can you stop hating me?"

"I just don't love you any more." She looked cold as ice, her eyes looked straight into Jane's eyes, and she sipped her tea matter-of-fact-ly. "It would have happened anyway, Jane; the first sign of real trouble, I would have left you. It's my way."

It was such a blatant lie that Jane could not believe that she had said it. There was a slight blush on her cheeks which disappeared quickly.

"Have you found someone?"

"Yes. I have found someone, okay? I think I'm going to be fine." She finished drinking her tea, and Jane stared at the wall, shocked, not seeing anything.

"I'm sorry!" Maria whispered, looking a little like her old self. There was sorrow, but no more. "I'm thankful for what you did for Zsuszana. You... she... you both..." she shrugged and flapped her hands helplessly. _Consider her still your child, if you wish. But it hurts me to be around you, and I can't stand it anymore_. She got up, and went to the room she had been using for several weeks.

A few days later, she was gone, with all her things.

—:—

Deanna consoled Jane as well as she could. She was numb, utterly numb. She could not give in to despair; as long as Deanna lived, Jane had to look after her, and love her. That love was like a little candle; Jane needed to give something, and Deanna was someone to whom she could give love and comfort. They slept together again, but they were not lovers now.

A bright moment was when Zsuszana came to visit. She was beautiful, as always, and she hugged Jane and wept. Isabella came with her, and hugged Jane gently. She had stopped in from time to time, but not as frequently as before Zsuszana had left for college, or even as often as when Maria was still in the house.

"She's living... you know... near the old place. A little apartment... smaller..."

"I'm glad she's comfortable," Jane said.

"She's living with a girl, someone she met in the Library. They're kind of an item."

Jane nodded. It was insane. It did not compute. Maria was taking out her anger against the attack on Jane. It was unbelievably twisted. If only Jane hadn't contradicted Maria in those first moments! If only Maria had taken the time to explain things to Jane! If only Jane hadn't been such an idiot!

Zsuszana had matured immensely. She listened to Jane carefully, and offered opinions that comforted her, for the most part. Jane could see that the girl yearned for them to get together again.

"You must love her," Jane said. "If I steal you from her, she will hate me so much I will die." It wasn't like her to be melodramatic, but she felt this in her bones. "She told me: I must still consider you my... as if you were my child. But if you have to choose, darling... you must choose her. You understand?"

Zsuszana looked at her with her great grey eyes. Isabella nodded solemnly.

"Will you visit?"

Zsuszana flung herself into Jane's arms, and wept bitterly.

"How can you ask?" she demanded, sobbing. "I will never turn my back on you! And I know you would never turn your back on anybody... and I _am_ your child! I _am!_ Oh promise me you'll love me, no matter what happens!"

"I promise!" cried Jane, as Deanna watched from the doorway, wiping her eyes.

Isabella was crying silently, with great sensitivity not drawing attention to herself. The girl had many wonderful qualities, Jane thought, in between feeling overwhelmed by Zsuszana's love and loyalty. It was strange to feel a motherly affection for a girl who was just a couple of years her junior. Zsuszana, at least, was barely eighteen, seven whole years younger.

"I thought it was just me and you left," said Deanna with a sigh, once the girls had reluctantly taken their leave. "But Zsuszana..." she shook her head; "I've never been so happy to see someone, as I was to see her today."

"Both of them," muttered Jane, her head propped on her arms.

"Both of them," agreed Deanna.

"You look beautiful," she told Deanna, dully. There wasn't much beauty left in Jane's life. There was desperation in how she clung to Deanna, and breathed in her simple loveliness. Jane had never guessed that without beauty she could not live.

"I'll try to keep it up," Deanna said, sounding a little grim. She no longer told Jane that she was beautiful. Jane's beauty was gone.

THE END

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