Chapter 6

Joy woke up under the pressure of Vicky's warm lips.

"I couldn't resist, Darling. You looked so lovely with the sun shinning on your face." Vicky smiled.

"You didn't wake me up when you came home," Joy said.

"It was late, after four. I had a guy who wouldn't quit. What a bore. You stay put. I've got coffee on. I'll bring a tray in here. Well have breakfast in bed."

Joy watched Vicky leave. She- trembled. Just the touch of Vicky's lips had brought a burning desire.

In a moment, Vicky was back with the coffee. She poured two cups, after handing Joy one, she crawled into bed beside her.

"Vicky," she said, "Trey Benton was here last night."

Vicky's eyebrows lifted. "Trey? What did he want? He knew I was working."

"He came to see me. He wants me to work for him."

Vicky frowned. "You don't think it was my idea?"

Joy shook her head. Her voice quivered. "He made love to me. He forced me," she sobbed.

"Oh, you poor darling," Vicky soothed, her mouth finding Joy's lips. She lifted away and caressed Joy's breasts. "He did this? The bastard," she cried when she saw the bruises. "Let me get some cream."

"It's all right. It doesn't hurt. Just love me, Vicky. Help me forget him," Joy moaned.

"I will, Darling. Oh, how I hate him for hurting you." Vicky leaned forward and gently nibbled the nipples. Her hand went to Joy's thighs, working gently up the insides, massaging the flesh.

Joy arched and twisted as Vicky's fingers reached her triangle and soothed the deep hurt that was still there from Trey Benton's brutality.

It was going to be all right, she told herself. Nothing really happened. Vicky would help her forget.

Turning, she hugged Vicky, drawing her close, feeling the comfort of Vicky's hard pointed breasts digging into her own. No, she didn't need a man. Trey Benton was wrong about that. The contentment was here, in Vicky's arms.

Straining, Joy enveloped her companion her thighs warming to the caresses. Lips burned trails of passion, moving, always moving to new thrills, to new excitements. Their bodies sought each other, each in her own way, offering the satisfaction, the wild building of desires that only knew how to share.

Lips blended, touched breasts, the warm flesh of stomach and thighs. Gasps of passion-filled the room.

But there was an exchange of gentleness and violence, each in it's own accord. The first arching explosion only spurred them on to greater heights. Time stood still in their struggle for satisfaction. It came.

"Want a cigarette?" Vicky asked.

Joy nodded.

They lay back and smoked, in silence, for awhile.

"Have I helped you to forget what happened?" Vicky asked.

Joy lifted on an elbow and looked at her. "It wasn't like it had been with Clay Trent, Vicky." She paused, "Can I ever forget?"

"You will, Darling. I'll help you," Vicky smiled. She butted her cigarette and took Joy's. "I feel greedy today. I want more."

Her lips sought out Joy's. Her breath quickened. Joy's lips were so soft, so like a rich nectar. "Let me," she whispered, tickling Joy's ear with her tongue.

Joy lay back, lost in the contentment, the lassitude or the warm roving mouth. Then, as Vicky found her love spot, she screamed out as the ecstasy rolled and stormed through her. Would there ever be a time when she would get enough, she wondered.

Shock waves brought sensation after sensation. Joy's thighs throbbed with the renewal of fire coursing through her flesh. Her legs rose to encompass Vicky's love.

Fulfillment came in a wild burst of release. The emotion was so great, Joy thought the ceiling above danced and joined in the ecstasy.

It had to end. When it did, Joy looked at Vicky. Her companion was lying on her back, eyes closed, sucking in deep breaths. Her pointed breasts rose and fell with the labored breathing.

She is so lovely, so wonderful, Joy mused to herself. And I never knew how wonderful this all was.

Vicky opened her eyes and smiled. "Happy?"

Joy studied her silently, for a moment. "Trey made some awful accusations, Vicky. He said you were keeping me. He was right."

"Nonsense, Darling. Why listen to a bastard like him. It isn't your fault you haven't been able to find a job. We're old friends: It's only right that friends should help each other."

"It's more than that, Vicky. Last night. Some of the things he said. Maybe it is wrong, this, you paying for me like you do."

"Forget Trey. I know how awful it must have been for you," Vicky said.

"No, Vicky, you don't understand. I was scared at first, then, suddenly, I wanted him to make love to me. I was on fire. But, then, there was nothing, no feeling at all. It wasn't natural."

"I should think not. There's nothing natural about being raped," Vicky soothed.

"That isn't what I mean. I never felt like that with Clay Trent. I felt funny, like I wasn't a woman any more. I kept thinking of you and what you would say."

"There isn't anything to say. It's over and best forgotten. It won't happen again."

"But, I'm not a Lesbian, I'm not like you. I can't forget it."

Vicky laughed. "Sometimes I even find it hard to admit I enjoy a woman far more than a man. It isn't a crime though, Darling. It's just accepting the facts that's hard. You do enjoy me, and I enjoy you. It's that simple. We don't need men, especially bastards like Trey." Joy frowned. "But you work for him."

"Necessity. Trey has the best contacts. Working for him is better than being a barroom mistier."

"He said, he'd call me in a few days. He wants me to work for him, too," Joy said. "Do you want to?"

Joy shook her head. "No. But . . . Well I haven't been able to find a job. I have to do something. I can't go on living off you."

"It hasn't been any problem. Right now, you've got a touch of pride because of what Trey said. Don't let it bother you. Trey has no control over you."

Joy gave her a curious look. "You mean he has over you?"

"I was in love with him, once. He was the man in Jersey. I never told you he was the one. I did love him until I found out what he was. After that . . ." Vicky shrugged. "It was too late. I'm hooked on good living, and Trey has the contacts."

Vicky leaned close and kissed Joy, again. "You're the only one who means anything to me, now," she whispered. "I can forget everything when I'm with you."

Joy felt Vicky start to tremble. She did something about it.

Trey Benton called Joy several times during the following two weeks. When Joy told Vicky about the calls, her roommate just shrugged and laughed.

"Next time he calls tell him to go to Hell," she said. "If it will make you feel better, tell him you have a job."

"Which I don't," Joy said, ruefully.

"There's always Rog Cantrell, if you want to try modeling," Vicky offered.

"Maybe," Joy said. Still, she couldn't bring herself to think of it, seriously. The idea brought her distaste. Vicky had shown her some of the pic spreads she had posed for. It seemed almost as bad as sleeping with a man.

"No rush, Darling. I like things the way they are," Vicky laughed.

The little doubts in Joy's mind lost identity as they made love.

Still, as the weeks crept by, and Joy redoubled her efforts to find a job, the dependence on Vicky was becoming a barrier. Little things would crop up. Vicky would complain that Joy wasn't keeping the apartment neat enough, that she had all day to do things.

Joy was at the point of taking a job as a waitress, or anything. And, she was giving serious thought to taking a stab at modeling Vicky kept bringing the subject up.

Then one afternoon as Joy had just left an office building after learning she had missed a job by a matter of minutes, she made up her mind to do something.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she stepped from the curb into the street and didn't see the car until she heard the screech of brakes. By then, it was too late.

When she came to, a nurse was leaning over her. "How do you feel?" she asked.

Joy tried to smile. As she shifted, a sharp pain caught in her chest and brought as gasp.

"You shouldn't try to move. It's your ribs," the nurse cautioned.

"What happened?" Joy wanted to know.

"You were struck by a car. You're lucky it's not more serious than it is."

Joy nodded. The memory of the screeching brakes came back.

"The man who hit you is outside. And there's a Miss Neale. We found her name and address in your purse. Feel up to seeing them?" the nurse asked.

Joy shrugged. "I guess so."

The nurse went out. A moment later, she came back, accompanied by a tall broad-shouldered man and Vicky Neale.

"You all right?" Vicky asked. "They scared me half to death when they called and said you had an accident."

Joy nodded and managed a smile.

"You gave me quite a scare too, Miss Lansing," the man said, smiling. "What on earth were you thinking of that you stepped in front of me?"

"I ... I don't know. I had just left the Tudor building after trying for a job. I'm sorry." The man had the bluest eyes Joy had ever seen, and at the moment they were filled with concern. She guessed he was about forty. Flecks of grey sprinkled his jet black hair at the temples, giving him a distinguished look. "I'm Bart McLane," he introduced himself. "I've given orders you're to have anything you need."

"Please, it was my fault, Mr. McLane. I don't want to cause you any trouble."

"It's no trouble." He glanced at his watch. "I have an appointment. Suppose I drop back tomorrow and see how you are." With that, he turned and left. The nurse followed him out.

"You sure picked a car to walk in front of," Vicky said when the door closed. "Bart McLane of all people."

"You know him?"

Vicky grinned. "I'd like to know him better. You mean you didn't recognize the name? He's a top lawyer."

"I thought he was rather nice," Joy said.

"That's all you can say?"

"What do you mean?"

Vicky grinned. "Maybe you don't know it, but you've hit the jackpot. You want a job. That's the least a guy like McLane can do. With his connections, it's a cinch."

"Sure," Joy retorted. "I tell him he has to find me a job because I walked in front of his car."

"So what. It's worth a try."

Just then the nurse came in with a vase of roses. "Mr. McLane had these sent in," she said. "Aren't they lovely?" She glanced at Vicky. "Don't stay too long. The patient needs rest."

Vicky nodded. When the nurse left, she turned to Joy. "I'd say you can do better than just a job. You must have made quite an impression."

"He's just being thoughtful," Joy protested.

"Yeah, but I caught the way he looked at you. He's got ideas and you better believe it."

Joy forced a laugh. "You and your imagination," she scoffed.

"Don't bet it's imagination. I know men, especially the Bart McLane kind." Vicky picked up her purse. "I'll drop back tomorrow. And I still think McLane has eyes for you."

The doctor came in shortly after Vicky left and said, "We should have you out of here tomorrow evening. You can stop back in a week or so to let us check these ribs. You were mighty lucky."

Bart McLane came again the next afternoon. "Well, how are we doing?" he smiled down at her.

"I feel much better." Joy noticed the flowers he was carrying. "More roses. You shouldn't. I still have the ones from yesterday."

"A pretty girl should have lots of flowers. I figured you for roses. Was I right?"

"They are my favorite," Joy admitted. "But I still think you shouldn't be going to all this trouble."

He laughed. "It might sound a little callous but "I'm rather glad you walked in front of my car."

Joy looked at him. His blue eyes were dancing with amusement. She decided she liked Bart McLane. Then she told him she would be getting out of the hospital that afternoon.

"I'll be here," he said.