Chapter 4
Joy made a salad and cut cheese for some grilled sandwiches. There wasn't much else. The cupboards contained mostly cans and nothing that looked appetizing.
Vicky came in just as she was putting the sandwiches on the grill. It was almost seven and Joy decided to eat while she was waiting.
"Well, it looks like I made a good choice for a new roommate," Vicky kidded when she saw the table set and the salads. "I'm starved. Those damned poses. Rog couldn't seem to get what he wanted until he took a jillion shots." She paused. "Roger Cantrell, the photographer I work for."
"I hope grilled cheese is okay. I couldn't find much else," Joy said.
"Sounds good. I usually eat out. When it comes to cooking, I'm the world's worst."
Joy turned the sandwiches on the grill and poured coffee. She glanced at Vicky. "You had a visitor this afternoon. He said his name was Trey Benton."
Trey? What did he want?"
"He said there was a party tomorrow night. Somebody by the name of Brad Hanbury. Said you were to be there at nine."
"That all?"
"Yes, except he invited me to come if I wanted to." Joy slid the sandwiches from the grill onto plates. She looked at Vicky. "Who is he? He barged right in like he owned the place and helped himself to a drink."
Vicky laughed. That's Trey. I work for him occasionally. He promotes parties for out of town clients of businessmen here in town. You know how it is, men like girls at a party. Trey hires models to add to the window dressing. A few drinks and a few laughs to keep the men in good spirits, that sort of thing."
"Oh," Joy said. She bit into her sandwich Across the table, Vicky laughed. I think you're getting the wrong idea, Joy. I can see why. You're not used to New York and guys like Trey." She paused and nipped at her sandwich. "Umm, these are delicious."
Joy didn't press the point when Vicky changed the subject and started to talk about Havenhurst.
They finished the meal.
"I brought home a surprise," Vicky said. I stopped and picked up some brandy. I think it will go good after that food."
"We only had cheese sandwiches," Joy protested with a laugh.
"But they were home-cooked. You have no idea how good they tasted." Vicky paused. "I'm glad you decided to come and live with me, Joy. It's no fun living alone."
"I'm glad you want me," Joy said.
"I do." Vicky rose and went into the front room. She came back a moment later. "Here it is. Good stuff," she laughed, taking a bottle from a bag.
Joy watched her pour two glasses.
"To us," Vicky said, touching her glass to Joy's. Joy was unaware of the tense look Vicky gave her. The brandy was good. It brought a pleasant warmth to her stomach.
Vicky refilled the glasses, despite Joy's protest. "We have something to celebrate, don't we?" she laughed. "Look how lucky it was, us running into each other."
When they finished the second drink, Vicky said, "I need a shower. The lights were hot this afternoon."
"I guess so," Joy conceded. "And that knit suit must be warm."
"Sure is. I'll slip into something comfortable.
Pour yourself another drink." Vicky disappeared into the bathroom.
Under the shower, she soaped herself, feeling a tingle as she massaged her breasts with suds. A frown creased her forehead. She felt the tension. Stepping from the shower, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Then she laughed softly. Would Joy Lansing find her appealing? she wondered. The frown came again. Maybe I'm a fool, she mused. Joy isn't Lois DeFore. And yet Joy had trembled when she snapped my bra. Vicky had been aware of Joy's eyes watching her.
She applied lipstick and combed her long blonde hair down over her shoulders. Then she slipped into a filmy black negligee. The silk felt good against her flesh. She paused a moment longer, caressing herself.
Joy was on the divan, watching TV when Vicky came out.
"Now, I can enjoy a drink," she said. Vicky noticed the slight rising of Joy's eyebrows. "Like this negligee?" she asked.
"I'd freeze in it," Joy said. "It is nice though."
Vicky refilled the glasses and handed one to Joy. "I feel like getting a little high tonight," she smiled.
"I'm not used to drinking," Joy protested. But she accepted the drink. She decided there was no harm in getting to feel good herself. The memory of the lonely nights at the Y was fresh in her mind, and the brandy tasted good. She felt a nice glow.
"Something wrong?" Joy asked after a moment, suddenly aware that Vicky was staring at her.
Vicky laughed. "Course not. I was thinking. You need a job. Why typing or secretary work?"
"It's the only thing I know."
"You're lovely, Joy. The guy I model for, Rog Cantrell, I bet I could get you a job with him."
"I don't know anything about modeling," Joy protested.
"So what. I didn't either. You have the looks and the figure. That's what counts. How about it? Want me to talk to Rog?"
"I don't think so," Joy said.
Vicky laughed. "It's not any fashion kind of modeling, Joy. It's cheesecake."
"You--you mean nude poses?" Joy gasped.
Vicky laughed again. "Not entirely. I do a lot of posing in negligees, like the one I'm wearing now. The secret is to suggest more than you actually show. I suppose it does shock you. I was shocked myself the first time I posed, but it's a hundred dollars a series. You can't make that kind of money as a typist."
"I couldn't pose naked in front of a man. I'd be scared half to death."
Vicky refilled the glasses again. She studied Joy for a minute.
"You had a reason for coming to New York, Joy. It was a man, wasn't it?"
"No." Joy stopped and looked at Vicky. Why should she lie. "Yes, it was Clay Trent," she blurted.
"Doc Trent's son?" Vicky's eyebrows lifted "You were shooting kind of high, weren't you He's not Willow Street."
Perhaps it was the brandy, or maybe that Joy had to get the agony off her chest. Suddenly, she was telling Vicky Neale everything about the nights she spent with Clay at the cabin, about Dr. Trent finding them and giving her money, about her mother and the man she had been with. The words came in a steady sobbing stream.
"You poor kid," Vicky soothed. "Men are like that, bastards, most of them." Joy was nestling in her arms now, crying softly. It was all working out even better than she had planned it. Sympathy could be a powerful weapon. Leaning forward, Vicky kissed Joy's cheek, her lips trembling at the satin softness.
"Why, why did you do that?"
"I guess because I wanted to share some of your trouble, Joy. I know what you've gone through. It happened to me. There was a man in Jersey before I came to New York. He sweet-talked me into thinking we'd be married. After I went to bed with him, he laughed in my face. That's when I made up my mind no man would ever make a sucker out of me again. It's what you should do, too."
"I don't know. All men aren't like that," toy said.
"Aren't they? I haven't found any that weren't," Vicky said.
Joy caught the bitterness in her tone. She wondered about it. After all, she was no fool. Vicky had admitted posing nude for pictures. And she had admitted to sleeping with one man.
The thought died as Vicky suddenly leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips. She wanted to pull free and yet there was a gentle sweetness in the lips, so soft and caressing.
Encouraged, Vicky's hand stole to Joy's breast and her fingers toyed with the nipple.
Joy pulled free and stared at Vicky. She felt a strange mixed emotion. "Why ... why did you do that?" she stammered.
Vicky forced a soft laugh. "I don't know. I just had to touch you. Did you mind, really?"
Joy found herself shaking her head, negatively. It was wrong, and yet it had felt wonderful, the kiss, Vicky's hands. And she felt a strange pounding in her head. Averting her eyes, her long eyelashes dropping, Joy felt herself blushing.
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Then Vicky broke the silence. "There are some things a woman needs that no man can give them," she said slowly.
Joy looked up. Vicky's eyes were bright, tense with anticipation.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It isn't something that can be explained. I can show you if you'll let me. Will you?"
Joy trembled. Her brain was reeling. For some reason she couldn't take her eyes off Vicky's breasts, exposed now, as her companion twisted, facing her. So firm and full, so creamy white with coral tips that were erect.
"Will you?" Vicky whispered again. "Will you let me show you?" As she spoke her hands went beneath her breasts, lifting them, offering. "Tell me you want to touch me," she demanded.
Joy found trouble trying to breath. The lovely breasts were like a magnet. She did want to touch Vicky. She didn't know why, only the compulsion was there. Trying to force herself to blame it on the brandy, she knew it wasn't that.
It was a force that went far beyond reason.
Joy closed her eyes, tried to blot out he sight of Vicky's breasts, so close and so appealing. I'm crazy. This isn't happening to me, she tried to tell herself. She remembered reading somewhere about women who made love to other women. But Vicky wasn't like that. Those women were mannish, they dressed like men and acted like men.
A whimper escaped Joy's lips as she felt Vicky's hands start caressing her breasts again.
"You will let me show you," Vicky whispered in her ear. "A woman knows what another woman needs wants."
Joy opened her eyes. "No ... I ... I don't." Her voice quivered slightly. Vicky was rubbing her thigh now, moving her hand higher and higher.
"Men are animals. They only want one thing from a woman," Vicky continued, in a low husky voice. "They don't understand a woman's true desires."
A sixth sense warned Joy she had to stop, move away from Vicky, but the hands roving, moving, felt so wonderful.
"You do want me to show you. Say you do," Vicky hissed.
Joy nodded. Her throat was too dry to talk.
"Close your eyes, Darling," Vicky whispered. "Don't move."
Joy did as she was told. Then she felt the warm moist mouth on her flesh. Without knowing, a moan escaped her lips as chaos seemed to split her wide open. The contact of lips brought a wild surging urgency. Vicky's fingers teased her thighs, pinched, hesitated, moved on. Joy felt herself ready to explode with the wild anticipation, the unknown that was to come. Joy wanted to scream. She was lost in the vibrant senses of desire.
"Like this?" Vicky crooned. "Want more?"
Joy shook her head, kept shaking it. Oh, yes, she wanted more and more and more. Vicky's mouth found hers, her tongue a serpent of exploration. Only for a moment and it left. Then the lips found her breasts, the mouth bringing the nipples to hard, erect points. It was then Joy screamed, gave vent to the wild stirring passion.
Vicky heard and laughed. Joy was going to be so much more than Lois DeFore had ever been. Her own passion was starting to react, to boil and storm.
Quickening the pace, she moved to the satiny softness of Joy's stomach, nipping at it with her teeth, trailing her tongue on the flesh. Desire became a demand as Joy's hips started to respond, rotate slowly, then faster and faster. Vicky could hear the sobs of want now from above. She paused for a quick glance. Joy's lovely face Was twisted with emotion.
"You don't want me to stop, do you?" Vicky cried.
The auburn head above threshed from side to side. "No, no, please," Joy moaned.
Vicky complied expertly, forcing the issue, forcing Joy's thighs to part and reaching for the silken triangle.
Joy arched, half lifting off the divan as wild ecstasy took over, a wild satisfaction she never knew could exist. She felt herself being carried aloft, higher and higher and then flung down. She collapsed in happy, rapturous exhaustion. Her body throbbed, tingled and felt wonderful.
Joy could hear her own harsh breathing. After a long moment of silence, she dared to look at Vicky. The reality of the situation began to mix with the still present pleasure engulfing her. She wanted to feel ashamed and guilty but she couldn't.
Vicky smiled at her. "You're not angry, are you?" she wanted to know.
Joy shook her head. She was at a loss for words. What was there to say? It was all so crazy and yet ...
Staring at Vicky, she finally found her voice. "I ... I don't understand. I never did anything like this before," she murmured.
"You're not supposed to understand, Darling. Something happens; it just happens," Vicky soothed. She ran her hand slowly up Joy's thigh, pinching it gently. "It's only important that you liked what you've done." She laughed as Joy started to tremble. "See how good it is. You want more," she whispered. "Never fight your desires."
"Please, Vicky," Joy moaned. "Oh, please."
"Tell me you want more," Vicky demanded. Her voice was a little harsh now.
"Yes, yes," Joy cried out. The hands were starting to drive her crazy again..
Vicky paused. "You sure, Darling? This can become a habit," she taunted.
Joy stared at her through half-closed eyes. She shook her head and a moan came as Vicky's fingers twisted and pinched between her thighs.
Then it stopped. Joy opened her eyes and gazed at Vicky. "What what's wrong?" she asked, a sob she couldn't control erupting from her throat.
"Nothing, Darling. Only, let's go to bed. We can be more comfortable there." She caught Joy's hand and pulled her to her feet. In the bedroom, she quickly slipped from her negligee and then helped Joy out of her robe and gown Vicky settled down on her back and beckoned. Joy sank down beside her. She stared at Vicky, at her lovely heaving breasts, her smooth slender legs. Vicky didn't move.
"You ... you don't want to ... " Joy stammered, feeling suddenly guilty at her own eagerness.
"I'm waiting for you." Vicky's tone was sharp, almost a command.
"I ... I don't know how."
Vicky put her hands under her breasts. "You can learn. Kiss me, kiss my breasts," she ordered.
Joy hesitated, then leaned forward. As her lips touched the softness, she lost her fear She felt a delight in feeling the nipples stiffen and rise to her caress. Laughing, she moved to Vicky's mouth, kissing her wildly. Vicky let her linger there a moment, then forced Joy's head back to her breasts. She twined her fingers in the auburn hair, helping Joy fulfill the desires that were building. Her hands caressed Joy's body, inciting her on From her own experiences, Vicky knew that instinct would take over. She had given Joy a new experience, and now Joy was lost. Joy was hers. No more lonely nights of hoping Lois would come back.
Joy looked up. She kissed Vicky's mouth again. The lips were like ripe fruit. Gingerly she inserted her tongue. The thrill was wonderful. It was all so wonderful.
"Am I doing all right?"
"Yes, yes, don't stop," Vicky cried impatiently. "Kiss me, bite me, make me live."
Joy nibbled at a nipple, then bit it. She stopped at Vicky's cry of pain.
"Its all right, it's all right," Vicky urged.
Joy moved on, kissing below Vicky's rib cage, caressing the smooth stomach with her lips. She felt awkward, a little afraid and yet ... J must make her as happy as she made me, she thought. Instinct gradually erased the uncertainty. Her own growing passion guided and paced her. Her anxiousness brought another cry of pain from Vicky as she bit too hard.
"I'm sorry," she apologized.
Vicky laughed. "It's wonderful. I like being hurt. Go on, go on." Writhing wantonly, her legs rose, her hips undulating in wild, savage responsiveness. Vicky was finding a wonderful ecstasy in Joy's neophyte love. Urging with her hands, she forced Joy down.
And the sobs incited Joy to greater effort.
Suddenly, fear left Joy. She became aggressive, daring, toiling joyously. Vicky's sobs, filling the room, only added to her own excitement.
For Joy, it was like stepping off the top of the highest mountain. She could feel herself floating through air. Vicky's thighs, so disciplined in the act of love, imprisoned her, urged her on and on to greater heights. Thoughts no longer held meaning.
There were only the fires of wanton passion igniting and re-igniting. This experience of loving a body like her own was electrifying to Joy. She reveled in the new-found pleasure.
It ended almost too soon for Joy. Vicky shuddered mightily and broke free. "You're a dream Darling, a precious dream," she cried.
"Was it ... it all right for you?"
Vicky laughed. "Wonderful, oh so wonderful." She reached to the table and got a pack of cigarettes. Lighting two, she handed one to Joy. Then she studied her for a long moment. "Was it right for you, Darling? No regrets?"
Joy inhaled deeply and shook her head. She could still feel the excitement. Her head was still spinning too wildly for any thoughts, was all so unreal and yet it had happened. There was no denial. And worse, she could find no denial of the fact she had enjoyed it far more than she had ever enjoyed anything in her life.
"I'm beat," Vicky said, butting her cigarette. "How about you?"
"I am tired," Joy admitted. She stared at Vicky. Her companion's eyes were closed. The lovely breasts rose and fell evenly. Joy felt a sudden anger. She wondered why she wanted to touch Vicky again. It was all so wrong, so crazy.