Still, Joan acted pretty shy about it and went no further than the pretense of lending a hand; her very air of meekness had a certain charm, actually. But this could only be a temporary phase in their relationship, a kind of preview, Elspeth figured, and she began to grow a bit impatient. Then, too, she found it somewhat confining to adapt her schedule to the need for being in position at the proper moment. Nerve-wracking, in a way, lying there and waiting like that made her feel like some sort of wicked seductress. And with twin beds to sleep in, nobody was seducing anybody, at least not noticeably.

Then one night Joan worked late and Elspeth got drowsy waiting for her to come home, drowsy enough to stretch out on the bed and take a nap. But her clothes were binding and uncomfortable; at last she gave up and undressed herself, tossing everything on a chair and then drifting off, to sleep. When she awoke, there was Joan padding around the bedroom in her robe. Elspeth glanced at the clock; her nap had been a short one, less than an hour. And then her eyes fell upon the chair where she had thrown her clothes, quite empty now, devoid of any mess.

"Joan? You hung my dress up?"

"Oh, you're awake? Yes, I put it in the closet. I've got the coffee on. Want some?"

Elspeth came alive, unworried by the sheet falling away from her breasts, sniffing and wrinkling her nose. "Mmm, smells good. I'll get up and join you."

"Relax. I'll bring it in." Joan trotted off to the tiny kitchen, returning shortly with a loaded tray. Carefully she set it down and brought a cup of coffee over to the bed. "A dash of cream, no sugar, right?"