Part 4 (2/2)

Tris gave two sharp claps with her hands suddenly. ”That is all for today, girls,” she said, and they broke up quickly, running into another room to change their clothes. Tris turned to look at Laura. She simply looked at her without saying any thing, a stare so frank and unabashed that Laura lowered her eyes in confusion, feeling the red blood come to her cheeks.

”What is your name?” Tris asked her then, and Laura answered, surprised, ”Laura.” Of course, I'd forgotten. She doesn't even know my name!

Laura looked up to find Tris studying her with a little smile. The girls began to file past saying goodnight to her. She smiled at one or another, touched their heads and shoulders, and spoke to some. In between little girls she watched Laura who felt rather like a specimen on exhibit.

The studio was bare except for the bench, a record player next to it on the floor by Laura's feet, and mirrors. The mirrors were everywhere, long and short, all over the walls. Most gave a full view of you to yourself. The room where the children dressed was furnished as a bedroom. Laura ”could see parts of it, and there were more mirrors in there. There was a swinging door, shut now, which apparently led to a kitchen. Laura gazed around her, trying to appear interested in it, so she wouldn't have to look at Tris.

The front door shut finally, rather conspicuously, and a small silence fell. They were alone.

”You like my little studio, then?” said Tris.

Laura dared to look at her then and found that the last child was certainly gone and the studio was empty. Awfully empty.

”Yes, I like it,” she said. She felt the need to excuse her presence and she began hurriedly, ”I hope you won't think But Tris never let her finish. ”Shall I dance for you?” she said suddenly with such a luminous smile that Laura felt her whole body go warm with appreciation. She returned the smile. ”Yes, please. If you would.”

Tris walked to the record changer beside Laura, knelt, and dipped a record into place. Then she looked up at Laura, her eyes larger and greener than Laura remembered, and infinitely lovelier seen so close. She waited there, looking at her visitor, until the music began to flow. It was not harsh like the music Laura had heard through the door, but languid and rhythmical, perhaps even sentimental.

Tris began to move so slowly at first that Laura was hardly aware that she was dancing. Her arms, long and tender and graceful, began to ripple subtly toward Laura, and then her head and body began to sway, and finally her strong legs, deceptively slim, moved under her and brought her, whirling slowly, to her feet.

It was a strange dance that flowed and undulated. This marvelous body seemed to float and then to sink like mist, and at one point Laura had to shut her eyes for a minute, too thrilled to bear it. She wanted terribly to reach out, put her hands on Tris's hips, and feel the rhythm move through hex own body.

The music stopped. Tris stood poised over Laura, looking down at her, and for a moment she remained there, balanced delicately and smiling. Laura felt a familiar surge of desire and she watched Tris like a cat watching a twitching string, ready to pounce if Tris made a sudden move. And yet afraid Tris might touch her and startle her pa.s.sion into the open.

But Tris relaxed as the needle began its monotonous scratch, and she turned off the machine. She sat on the floor then, grasping her black-sheathed knees in her arms, one hand holding the wrist of the other.

”Did you like it?” she said, glancing up, and she seemed for a moment to be unsure and distant, as she had been in the dress shop.

”I thought it was wonderful,” Laura said, herself a little shy. ”I didn't know dancing could be like that.”

”Like what?” Tris demanded suspiciously.

”WelllikeI don't know. It was like nothing I've ever seen ... as if you were floating. It was beautiful.”

Tris softened a little. ”Thank you, Laura,” she said. And Laura felt a wild confusion of delight at the sound of her own name. ”I dance very well,” Tris went on oddly. ”There is no point in false modesty. I hate that sort of thing, don't you? It's so hypocritical. If you dance well, or do anything else well, say so. Be frank. I think men like a girl who is frank. Don't you?”

Laura was taken aback. ”Oh, yes,” she affirmed quickly. But she stared. She can't be straight, she thought to herself, in a sudden agony of doubt. From the first she had taken it for granted that the lovely Indian girl was a Lesbian. It seemed so right, perhaps only because Laura wanted it that way. And too, Laura always prided herself on being able to tell if a girl were h.o.m.os.e.xual or not. She was sick at the thought that Tris might love men.

Tris watched her, interested. ”What are you thinking of?” she said.

”Nothing,” Laura protested uneasily.

”All right. I will not pry.” Tris smiled. ”Will you have some tea with me?”

”Thank you.” Laura was glad to ease the tension a little. Tris got up and she followed her through the swinging door into the kitchen.

Tris made the tea while Laura watched her in a rapture of pleasure. ”You moved so beautifully,” she blurted, and then blushed. ”II mean, it shows in all your movements. Dancing, or walking, or just getting down the teacups.” She laughed. ”I feel like a clumsy ox, watching you.”

”You are wrong,” Tris said. ”I have been watching you, too. You move well, Laura. You could learn to dance. Would you like to learn?”

Laura looked away, confused and delighted but scared. ”I'd be your worst pupil,” she said. ”I find that hard to believe.”

”It'sprobably very expensive.”

”For you...” Tris shrugged and smiled, ”nothing,” she said.

Laura turned to look at her, surprised. ”Nothing?” she repeated.

”Or perhaps your friend ... the big one,” Tris added softly. ”Perhaps she would be interested?”

”Beebo?” Laura exclaimed. ”Oh G.o.d no!” Tris handed her a cup quickly, as if to make her forget the suggestion. ”Do you like me, Laura?” she said, her green eyes too close and her sweet skin redolent of jasmine.

”Yes Tris,” Laura said, saying her name for the first time and feeling the fine s.h.i.+vering return to her limbs.

”Good.” Tris grinned at her. ”That is payment enough.” Laura felt suddenly like she had better sit down or she would fall down. ”You say my name now, that means you feel closer to me, hm?” Tris asked.

”Yes. A little.” Laura gazed at her, completely confused, afraid to move, until Tris gave a little laugh.

”Come, we'll sit in the other room,” she said, and Laura once again followed her across the bare studio into the bedroom.

The room was fitted up Indian fas.h.i.+on with rich red silk drapes on the bed. The bed itself was actually more of a low couch, very capacious, and covered with tumbled silk cus.h.i.+ons. There were books and records scattered around, a couple of pillows on the floor to take the place of chairs, and a number of ashtrays.

”This is my bedroom, my living room, my den, my play roomwhatever you want,” Tris said smiling, and sat down on the bed. ”Come, don't stand there looking afraid of me,” she said, ”sit down.” And she patted the bed beside her.

Laura came and sat there and as she did Tris lay back on the cus.h.i.+ons and watched her. She put her tea on the floor while Laura held hers carefully, anxious about spilling it on the lush red silk.

”Are youare you Indian, Tris?” she asked awkwardly, turning to look at her.

Tris crossed her black-sheathed legs. ”Yes,” she said. ”Half Indian, at least. My mother was Indian but my fattier was French.”

”Did you grow up in India?”

”Yes. In New Delhi. Have you been there?” Her clear eyes looked sharply at Laura.

”No. I've never been anywhere,” Laura said. ”Except New York and Chicago. I was born in Chicago.”

”Is your family there?”

”Just my father. He's all the family I have.”

”Do you see him often?”

”I never see him.” She looked away, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of her father. She had not seen him for two years. Not since she had gone to live with Beebo and admitted to him that she was a Lesbian. There had been a terrible scene. And then Laura had fled and Merrill Landon, for all she knew, had gone back to Chicago.

”Is that where your roommate is from? Chicago?” Tris asked slowly.

”No. Milwaukee.” Laura turned to frown at her and Tris, sensing her reticence, changed the subject. ”Would you like to see my sc.r.a.pbook?” she said. Before Laura could answer she was off the bed and searching for it among some books and papers across the room. She came back and sat next to Laura, spreading the green leather book open over their knees and putting an arm around Laura's waist.

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