The Secret Keeping by Francine Saint Marie Page A

companion.
    Helaine stood in the dark of it on a Saturday evening, once again breaking her promise to not go there.
    My friends might be right, she thought. I am terminal. She flicked on the lights.
    It looked the same as the last time, Sharon’s clothes strewn about it like flotsam after a shipwreck and as usual the girl had neglected to make arrangements for the place to be cleaned in her absence.
    Helaine clung to the door and sighed. She had been wanting to cry for days and now she did. It was nothing but a flophouse, the once beautiful waterfront flat with its spectacular views. She had redecorated it for Sharon, but this is how the creature really liked it. An absolute wasteland. She made her way to the couch.
    She didn’t know why she bothered to keep the place. For a lover who was never there?
    “I don’t really live anywhere,” Sharon had told her over dinner, when they first met. “I have lots of friends and I work for months at a time.”
    She modeled. That explained it.
    “Then how can I get in touch with you again?”
    “I’ll call you,” Sharon said coyly.
    Helaine gave the girl her number. “When?”
    “When would you like me to, Helaine?”
    Helaine had hesitated. She didn’t know why. “Anytime,” she finally replied. It was her first mistake.
    Sharon grinned fabulously, pleased with herself. “I have to go now. I’m late for an appointment.”
    “You work nights, too?”

    Sharon slipped on her coat. “Sometimes.” And then she was gone. Helaine paid the tab.
    Sharon called late that very evening. “I was thinking of you,” she purred.
    She had roused the doctor from her sleep, out of her senses. “Ah. And what were you thinking about?”
    Helaine foolishly asked. She listened, moved and captivated by the speaker on the other end of her line, recklessly flirting with her, slipping under the spell of an obscene call and the power of all those suggestions.
    When the girl asked to come over Helaine drew in her air and said yes. Rules are made to be broken. Her second mistake.
    Sharon came quickly, pleasured quickly and was ready to leave quickly. Record timing. “When will I see you again?” asked a tousled blond already in over her head.
    “When do you want to see me?”
    “Now. Stay for the night.”
    Sharon smiled provocatively. But it wasn’t going to be that easy.
    “I’m sorry,” she purred again, “I can’t, Helaine. I’ll be back.”
    “When?”
    “Soon,” Sharon answered, pulling on her hose, buttoning her dress and admiring herself in the mirror as she put on her lipstick. She turned to face Helaine. “Soon,” she repeated, stepping into her heels ready to start walking, wearing a satisfied expression.
    “Tomorrow night?”
    Sharon’s eyes narrowed with calculation. She sat down beside her and stroked her breasts until the nipples went erect, holding them in her mouth, leaving them covered with her lipstick. “Pretty name. Helaine Kristenson.”
    “Thank you. Tomorrow?”
    Tomorrow. Sharon leaned against the blond and closed her eyes, her hands teasing, traveling her creamy flesh, her tongue tempting the moist mouth, licking her lips. She felt long legs drawing her in. They might never refuse her, she suddenly realized, letting them enfold her, lying between them once more. The blond sighed and Sharon took a quick breath. She was quite a catch, she told herself. She heard the woman breathing excitedly, swaying gently beneath her and she wanted to make her come again. The mouth, the lips, the tongue requested it of her. She felt between her legs and was stricken by the sound of the woman’s low cry, her urgent whispers. Her breath tickled her insides, moving them in ripples of excitement, with a bang bigger and better than cocaine. Oh, when she moaned like that–it felt just like falling!
    Falling?
    She pinned the blond to the bed and quickly entered her again. It was no big deal to tell the doctor she thought she might be in love with her. She could take it