There was a pause, so Holly volunteered, "I just want you to know that I don't understand what you're referring to, and I don't expect you to explain. I don't think I want to know anyway."

Geena laughed. "It's no big mystery. Just something we do that nice girls aren't supposed to talk about. Murphy made us talk about it." Geena seemed unperturbed, but Tori's face was flaming.

"Nice girls don't talk about it in front of third parties," Tori muttered.

"As I said, I have no idea to what you are referring. I am a babe in the woods here." Holly gave Tori a look of pure innocence that was not feigned.

"Murphy's hands are apparently more slender than mine," Geena offered. "We learned to work around it."

"Geena! Oh my gaaawd..." Tori put her face in her hands.

Holly could not for the life of her think why the size of a woman's hand might a" oh. She felt her own blush begin. "Okay, I've got a clear picture on the radar screen." She gulped. "Can I help with dinner?"

Geena assured her she needed no help, and she had a devilish smirk that made Holly abruptly realize that there was another side to Geena hidden under the serious professor. She felt honored to have seen it.

"I can't believe you told her," Tori spluttered.

"I'm not shocked," Holly protested, but she was. She had thought, well, hadn't known what to think when Jo had blithely described her escapades. It was time to get over being a prude. If they both liked it, what the hell did it matter? It was possible that she might like it, not that she had a chance of ever finding out since she couldn't seem to get a woman to take a second look at her.

Except for the woman at the theater. Even now, almost a week later, she thought of that electric moment and didn't know what she wanted but knew that she would have been willing to try just about anything with her. Her eyes... her mouth...

"Babe," Geena said, still smirking. She dried her hands and then cupped Tori's face and kissed her tenderly on the lips. "I don't know why you're so embarrassed about it. So you like it. I like to do it. We're still decent people."

"I know that. You just like to make me blush."

"Yeah," Geena admitted. "Because you look gorgeous all red and shy."

"I'll just take this opportunity to go to the potty," Holly said. She didn't think they noticed her departure.

She took her time, and when she returned Geena was tossing vegetables into the wok and Tori looked thoroughly kissed.

She'd spent the previous evening with Audra, who, as it turned out, was in a burgeoning relationship with another teacher also nearing retirement. They were full of plans to travel, perhaps buy a motor home together and visit every single Civil War battle site. Holly was happy for her. She was happy for Geena and Tori, and happy for Flo and Nancy, who needed to close their blinds more often than they did. Nancy had an amazing back. Flo's voice carried when she was particularly excited.

She was happy herself, alone. She felt as if she'd entered a cocoon, and someday she would break out to fly free. She would find the variables and constants that formed the equation of her life.

She'd sent out about twenty form letters to universities all over the country and felt she had entered a period of waiting for something to happen. After so much occurring so quickly, she was learning to be patient again. She did not have to remake her world in a week, or a month, or even a year. She would really a" really, really a" enjoy a night with a woman, but she wasn't desperate for it.

At least... well, not recklessly desperate.

They were finishing up the stir fry when Tori asked, "So you'll come tomorrow night?"

Geena snickered.

"I don't know about that." Holly discovered she could bat her eyelashes, if she concentrated. "But I guess I'll go to the bar with you guys. If you really don't mind my tagging along. I'll ask Jo if she wants to go, too."

Ginger Rogers sans Fred Astaire was on the marquee, and if it hadn't been the first Friday of March, Reyna would have stayed all night. As it was she had to tear herself away from Vivacious Lady, with the lady vibrant and Jimmy Stewart befuddled. She walked slowly to the end of the alley, then waited. She'd seen the tan sedan behind her on the way and had thought she'd seen Marc Ivar's silhouette during the film's opening credits. But she was alone in the alley, and no one seemed interested when she walked down the block toward the motorcycle repair shop.

It felt different, tonight, dangerously different. She had always gone to escape, to lose herself, to experience renewal. Tonight she could not shake the feeling that she was going in search of something, something she could not have. She didn't know if it was the pounding headache that never seemed to stop that drove her, or the awareness of the growing void inside her. She'd once thought that the black hole was a place she fell, but now she carried it with her.

The weather had turned to spring, but the night wasn't warm. The chill lacked bite, however, and she left her jacket unbuttoned and imagined the wind blasting her free of hypocrisy and self-contempt.

Another bike passed her, slowed up, and they were side-by-side long enough for the other rider a" a woman a" to sketch a low-key biker greeting. Then she revved her Ninja into high and was gone in a heartbeat. Reyna wanted to take her up on the implied chase, but the consequences of a traffic ticket were too extreme to risk it. She was taking enough chances tonight.

The music was too loud for talking, but Holly stayed near Geena and Tori. She tried not to look alone and desperate. Jo was dancing with her Sandi, lost in the pulsating sea of women which seemed to cheer each new song as long as it was faster and louder.

Struggling to be heard over the siren wails in a soaped-up version of the Charlie's Angels theme, she shouted into Tori's ear, "Is it always this loud?"

"It's just the beginning," Tori shouted back.

She didn't want Holly's Orgasm Quest to turn into Holly's Loss of Hearing. "I'll be back," she mouthed, and she moved toward the bathroom, which was as far away from the giant speakers as she could get without actually leaving the club. The line was long. No one seemed inclined to talk, though the volume might have allowed it when the music finally keyed down to something pulsating and sultry.

She was on her way back toward Tori and Geena, who were spooning as they watched the dancers, when a voice said in her ear, "Hello, mouse that roared."

She didn't have the same reaction she had before, thank God, so she could smile when she turned to Murphy. She said, "Roar."

Murphy grinned. "I'd heard that you were family now. I had you pegged from the moment I met you, of course." Smug, but somehow likeable.

"I supposed you did. Congratulations."

"Would you like to dance? I'll be good."

Holly shot a glance at Tori, not wanting to be disloyal to a friend by consorting with the enemy. Recalling Geena's point of view on the matter, however, she decided what the hell. It was better than being a wallflower. She had barely nodded when Murphy whisked her onto the floor.

She forgot she did not know how to dance.

Murphy good-naturedly clamped her hands onto Holly's hips and helped her find a simple swaying rhythm. She murmured in Holly's ear, "Like a lot of things, it comes naturally if you don't fight it."

"Shut up," Holly said, not expecting to feel so fond of the woman. She saw now the easy charm that could slip behind even carefully guarded defenses.

"Say that again and I'll have to dip you."

She laughed. The song was winding down and it was time to put some distance between herself and Murphy's charm. "You're nice when you're not being bad, you know."

"I know." Murphy smiled with perfect equanimity. Holly was struck with how content Murphy was with herself. For better or worse, Murphy understood herself, and giving the devil her due, she seemed to be completely honest about who she was.

"If I thought you'd go on being nice to me I'd probably fall in love with you." Holly hadn't realized she knew how to flirt.

"Can't have that."

"Why not?"

Murphy's eyes were a dark greenish blue and were temporarily empty of their habitual teasing light. "My heart is taken. Sorry."

"Oh, okay."

"Don't tell anyone." She swung Holly in a circle. "You're dangerous, you know that? You inspire truth out of me and I can't have that."

Holly stumbled, collided with Murphy's hip and let Murphy catch her before she fell. She ended up crotch to crotch with Murphy, who grinned knowingly. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Come to bed with me," Murphy suggested. She nuzzled Holly's ear.

"It's tempting."

"But no."

"Sorry."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not ready to be a conquest. I hope that doesn't sound bitchy."

"You're ready for something." Murphy ran her hands up Holly's back. "I have excellent instincts. I told you the truth, why don't you tell me the same?"

Holly frowned. "What do you think the truth is?"

"I'm not your type."

"Oh." Holly began to laugh. "Yes, I guess that's right."

"Common deal with the newly out. See, you're thinking that since you're now a lesbian you have to love all lesbians, take them all to be your sisters and desire them equally, but it's okay to find some lesbians attractive and others not. In fact, it's essential."

"Why essential?"

"Because until you're willing to see other lesbians as just people, forgetting they're gay and never forgetting it, you won't see yourself that way either. At the bottom line, we're human beings first."

"That's an impossible equation a" two mutually exclusive propositions equaling a resolution."

"Welcome to life. I've been out since I was twelve, and I just gave you the prime wisdom gathered over the twenty-five years since."

"Thank you."

"I should charge you." The devilish glint in Murphy's eyes was back.

"Such as?"

"This, of course."

It was a quick, light kiss, which had a warming effect on Holly's skin, but did nothing more. She could see now that Murphy wouldn't be all that unpleasant to wake up next to, especially after a night of guilt-free sexual expertise.

But just someone was not enough.

Jack's was packed. Perhaps springtime brought out the women. Reyna checked her coat and helmet, shook out her hair and headed for the dance floor. As usual, no one cared that she danced alone, but she felt the difference. Every previous visit she had danced to find a partner, but tonight she shied away from eye contact. She was afraid of what might happen if she made a connection. She couldn't make herself leave. The black hole was inside her, a vast emptiness of loneliness and anger. She needed... more than sex. She needed... more than escape.

An arm wound around her waist. She opened her eyes and was face-to-face with Irene.

After a stunned moment of recognition, fear surged through her. Mark Ivar had said she was going to get caught. Then her brain cleared enough for comprehension. Irene wasn't here to catch her. Irene was her for her own desires.

"I hoped you'd be here." Irene had to shout as Reyna fought down her panic.

"I didn't know a"" Coherence was impossible at that volume level. She pulled Irene toward the patio. Once they were outside she found a corner where they wouldn't have to yell. "I wasn't sure I was getting signals from you."

"I almost told you I'd seen you here when we were alone in your office. But it was too soon. I had to think it through. How it would work."

"How what would work?"

"Us."

Irene was presuming a lot. "I don't understand."

"We're here for the same thing, aren't we? Wouldn't it be easier, nicer, if we didn't have to let some bar determine our schedule? All it would take is a research project we're working on together. No one would suspect a thing."

Irene was suggesting... Reyna wasn't sure. "What about... I'm confused."

Irene tipped her head as if she couldn't fathom what Reyna didn't understand. "We're both the same. Here for... something a little dangerous, a little kinky. But it's not as if we're..." She glanced to the side where two women were entangled in the dark. "Like that. We're normal." She shrugged. "It's just a little naughty sex."

Reyna had to close her eyes. All the papers she'd written, the press releases she'd composed, the research she'd misrepresented floated up at her. What else could Irene think of her?

It was something she couldn't pretend. She could live in an airtight closet but it didn't change what she was. Of all that he had demanded of her, Grip had never asked her to say she wasn't a lesbian, or to say that she was straight. She was seen in social settings with men; it was a lie of implication. Her moral lines had gotten so muddy, but this one she was sure of. She would say nothing if possible, for her mother's sake, but she would not, could not pretend to be like Irene. Here for sex, yes, but she was not contemptuous of the women she seduced.

"Think about how easy it'll be. We can stop coming here."

"No, it won't work."

"Why not? When I realized who you were, and I saw you leaving with a woman, I thought it was a perfect arrangement." Irene's voice grew husky. "The woman you left with? She came back a few hours later and was happy to talk about you. From what she said, I'm sure we would have a good time together."

"I can't. It won't work."

"This is better?" Irene was incredulous.

"It is for me."

"But I a"" Irene studied her for a long moment. "You're not trying to tell me that you're one of them, are you?"

"I've said all I'm going to say."

"Does your father know?"

Irene might have simply been curious, but the question broke Reyna's nerve. She backed away, wanting the woman's hands off of her.

Irene made a grab for her arm. "You can't be serious."

"Nothing will work between us, Irene. You're not looking for anyone like me."

"Because you're a lesbian."

"And you're married."

"Is that the problem? My husband and I have a sound working relationship, and many shared goals. We agreed long ago that we didn't put a high value on a shared sex life. People wouldn't understand, so we're discreet."