For a few moments more she tossed feverishly on her bed, trying to find solitary release, but it wouldn’t come. The thought of Beebo tortured her now, and not the thought of Marcie. Beebo—with her lithe body, her fascinating face, her cynical shell. There was so much of Beth there. At that thought, Laura found herself swinging her legs out of bed. Moonlight glowed in two bright squares on the living room floor. Laura could see the couch, draped in blankets. She wondered whether Beebo had heard her and waited breathlessly for some sign. Nix lifted his head but made no sound, only watching her as she advanced across the room on her tiptoes, her white slip gleaming as she passed through the light. Laura stood and hovered over the couch, uncertain what to do, her heart pounding hugely against her ribs, Beebo was on her side, turned toward Laura, apparently asleep. Nix was snuggled into the ditch between the back of Beebo and the back of the couch. Beebo stirred slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Beebo,” Laura whispered, dropping to her knees and supporting herself against the couch with her hands. “Beebo?” she whispered again, a little louder. And then, sensing that Beebo had heard her she bent down and kissed her cheek, her hands reaching for her. Beebo was suddenly completely roused, coming up on her elbow and then falling back and pulling Laura with her. “Laura?” she said huskily. “Are you all right?” And then she felt Laura’s lips on her face again and a shock of passion gripped her. “Oh, God—Oh, baby,” she said, and her arms went around Laura hard. “Hold me,” Laura begged, clinging to her. “Oh, Beebo, hold me.” Beebo rolled off the couch onto Laura and the abrupt weight of her body fired Laura into a frenzy. They rolled over each other on the floor, pressing each other tight, almost as if they wanted to fuse their bodies, and kissed each other wildly. Laura felt such a wave of passion come up in her that it almost smothered her. She thought she couldn’t stand it. And then she didn’t think at all. She only clung to Beebo, half tearing her pajamas off her back, groaning wordlessly, almost sobbing. Her hands explored, caressed, felt Beebo all over, while her own body responded with violent spasms—joyous, crazy, deep as her soul. She could no more have prevented her response than she could the tyrannic need that drove her to find it. She felt Beebo’s tongue slip into her mouth and Beebo’s firm arms squeezing her and she went half out of her mind with it. Her hands were in Beebo’s hair, tickling her ears, slipping down her back, over her hips and thighs. Her body heaved against Beebo’s in a lovely mad duet. She felt like a column of fire, all heat and light, impossibly sensual, impossibly sexual. She was all feeling, warm and melting, strong and sweet. * * * * *