Talk about luxury! Breakfast in bed. Just juice and coffee and toast, of course, but Elspeth was sure she could have had more simply for the asking. With the tray over her lap, she leaned back languidly and sipped and munched as Joan scurried around getting dressed to go off to work. Even with all that scurrying, though, there appeared to be plenty of time for conversation, just idle small-talk at first until Elspeth zeroed in on the all-important topic.

"Joan, tell me something. About last night…"

"Please. Must we talk about that?"

"Yes. I want to. Oh, don't worry, I won't make a federal case out of it, I'm just trying to understand. Last night you told me I was beautiful, remember? And that led to… well, you know what. So how come you didn't mention it sooner?"

"I – uh…"

"You said something about feeling guilty. Come on now, what does that mean? Guilty about what? Or maybe you didn't really want me that first night, huh?"

"Oh. I did want you, darling, I couldn't keep my hands off you. When you complained of being stiff I almost offered to give you a massage." Joan bit her lip; then, in a torrent of confession, "Okay, I'd better get it off my chest. Elspeth, I felt guilty about the apartment. This building, I mean – the woman who owns it is gay and so are most of the tenants. Gay girls. I should have told you that before you decided to move in with me."

"I'll be damned! Yeah, you should have." The idea of living in a nest of lesbians was somewhat disconcerting. "But it's done now, so stop feeling guilty and just fill me in on the details, will you? Is the place dangerous? You figure I might get raped in the hallway by some big bull-dyke?"

"Good grief, no, nothing like that. Quite the contrary, in fact, it's all very discreet and ladylike. Margalo Fitch wouldn't have it otherwise."