Behind my closed door, I heard them laughing their way into her apartment, and though I tried to read,
the pictures kept forcing their way into my mind: a big white bed... white cool sheets and the two of them in each other's arms.
I wanted to phone Alice, but I didn't. Why torment myself? I couldn't even visualize Alice's face.
I could picture Fay, dressed or undressed, at will, with her crisp blue eyes and her blonde hair braided and coiled around her head like a crown.
Fay was clear, but Alice was wrapped in mist.
About an hour later I heard shouting from Fay's apartment, then her scream and the sound of things being thrown,
but as I started out of bed to see if she needed help, I heard the door slam—Leroy cursing as he left.
Then, a few minutes afterward, I heard a tapping on my living room window.
It was open, and Fay slipped in and sat on the ledge, a black silk kimono revealing lovely legs.
"Hi," she whispered, "got a cigareet?" I handed her one and she slipped down from the window ledge to the couch.
"Whew!" she sighed, "I can usually take care of myself, but there's one type that's so hungry it's all you can do to hold them off."
"Oh," I said, "you brought him up here to hold him off." She caught my tone and looked up sharply. "You don't approve?"
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