Beebo wheeled away, walking into the bedroom. “What do you want me to do, sing songs? Write poems? Dance? Shall I congratulate you? Congratulations, Laura, you’ve finally found a way to beat the problem. Every time Marcie sexes you up, run down to Beebo’s and let it off. Beebo’ll fix you up. Lovely arrangement.” She turned to Laura, her eyes narrowed. “Laura gets loved up for free, Beebo gets a treat, and Marcie stays pure. Whatever happens, let’s not dirty Marcie up. Let’s not muss up that gorgeous blonde hair.” “Don’t talk about her!” Laura had followed her into the bedroom. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Bo-peep. I’m not complaining. You’re too good to me, you know. You give me your throw-away kisses. I get your cast-off passion, I’m your Salvation Army, doll, I get all the left-overs. Throw me a bone.” She was sitting on the edge of her rump on her dresser, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded on her chest—a favorite stance with her. Laura was suddenly ashamed of the way she had used Beebo. Beebo was hurt. And it was Laura’s fault. “Everything’s my fault, Beebo,” she said. “I’m sorry.” There was silence for a minute. Laura was acutely aware that “I’m sorry” was no recompense for what she was doing to Beebo. Beebo smiled wryly. “Thanks,” she said. “I am, Beebo. Really. I didn’t come to you last night just because of Marcie.” It was suffocatingly hard to talk. She spoke in fits and starts as her nerve came and left her. “No?” Beebo remained motionless with a ‘tell-me-another’ look on her face. “No. I came—I came because—” She covered her face with her hands, stuck for words and ashamed. “You came, baby. That’s enough,” Beebo finished for her, relenting a little. “You came and I’m not sorry. Neither are you, not really. The situation isn’t perfect.” She laughed. “But last night was perfect. It isn’t like that very often, I can tell you.” Laura looked at her again. Then she moved toward her clothes, afraid to stay naked any longer, afraid the whole thing would start over again. Beebo came toward her, pulling the slip from her hand and dropping it on the floor. “There’s no hurry,” she said. “I’m going, Beebo. Don’t try to stop me.” For a moment Beebo didn’t answer. Then she scooped up some of Laura’s clothes on her foot and flung them at her. “Okay, baby,” she said. “But next time, you don’t get off so easily. Clear?” “There won’t be a next time.” Laura concentrated on dressing, on getting her body covered as quickly as possible. “I’m grateful to you, but I’ll never do it again. It isn’t fair, not to you.” Beebo laughed disagreeably. “Don’t worry about being fair to _me_, baby. It didn’t bother you last night.” “I couldn’t think last night! You know that.” “Yes. I know that. I’m glad. I hope I drive you out of your mind.” Beebo’s eyes bored into her and made her rush and stumble. She was afraid to confront her, and when she had her clothes on she caught her jacket up with one hand and headed for the door without looking back.