Laura let go suddenly, and Beebo fell back on the bed, grinning at her. “Laura hates me,” she said. “Laura hates me.” She said it slowly, singsong, daring Laura to answer her. Laura glared at her, defiant and fuming. “You’re an animal!” she hissed at her. “Sure.” Beebo chuckled. “Ask Jack. That’s his favorite word. We’re all animals.” “You’re nothing but a dirty animal!” “What were you last night, Miss Prim? You were panting at me like a sow in rutting season.” Laura’s eyes went wide with fury. She grabbed the nearest thing—a hairbrush—and flung it violently at Beebo. Beebo ducked, laughing again at her young victim, and Laura turned and fled into the bathroom. She slammed the door so hard it bounced open and she had to shut it again. With frantic fingers she tried to turn the lock, but Beebo was already pushing on the other side. Laura heaved against it, but Beebo got it open and she fell back against the wall, suddenly frightened. “Don’t touch me!” she spat at her. Beebo smiled. “Why not? You didn’t mind last night. I touched you all over. Did I miss anything?” Laura shrank from her. “Let me go, Beebo.” “Let you go? I’m not even touching you.” “I want to leave. I want to get out of here.” Laura tried to push past her but Beebo caught her, her strong hands pressing painfully into Laura’s shoulders, and threw her back against the wall. “You’re not going anywhere, Bo-peep,” she said. And began to kiss her. Laura fought her, half sobbing, groaning, furious. Beebo’s lips were all over her face, her throat, her breasts, and she took no notice of Laura’s blows and her sharp nails. Laura grabbed handfuls of her hair, wanting to tear it out, but Beebo pulled her close, panting against her, her eyes hypnotically close to Laura’s. And Laura felt her knees go weak. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, God no. Oh, Beebo.” Her hands caressed Beebo’s hair, her lips parted beneath Beebo’s. All the lonely months of denial burst like firecrackers between her legs. Once it had started her whole body begged for release. It betrayed her. She clung sweating and heaving to Beebo. They were both surprised at the strength and insistence of their feelings. They had felt the attraction from the first, but they had been unprepared for the crescendo of emotion that followed. It was a long time before either of them heard the phone ringing. Finally Beebo stood up, looking down at Laura, watching her. Laura turned her face away, pulling her knees up and feeling the tears come. Beebo knelt beside her then, the hardness gone from her face. “Don’t cry, baby,” she said, and kissed her gently. “Laura, don’t cry. I know you don’t want to make love to me, I know you _have_ to. Damn that phone! It’s not your fault. Laura, baby, you make beautiful love. God grant me a passionate girl like you just once in a while and I’ll die happy.” “Please don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me.” She was overwhelmed with shame.