eternity. At the last moment, at the moment when she saw tension in Ed's hand, she threw herself in front of Paul.
She heard him shout, "No—Leah!" Then hot,
piercing pain seemed to jerk her backward, into her
lover's arms.
* * *
It was only after Leah's third cup of coffee that the dull, hung-over feeling began to fade. Her neck was stiff from sleeping on the couch, and she had prob-
ably caught cold because she hadn't turned down the air conditioning.
That stupid, stupid dream, she thought, gazing into her coffee as though mesmerized. It had been even worse than the first one. Leah hadn't even fought this time. She had simply gone along with it.
"And on top of that, I probably blew a movie contract," she muttered, pushing her chair back and standing.
Later, as she gave her long blond hair a light touch of hair spray, she stared at her face in the mirror. For a moment bright red lips and false eyelashes were superimposed over her own image.
She shook her head in irritation, pushing the vision away. "I don't want to think about what it meant," she told herself aloud for the third time that morning. "I don't want to think about Freud and his sneaky little theories about wish fulfillment."
Stalking into the living room, she picked up her briefcase and purse. "I simply want to have nice, normal dreams about stalking madmen and walking into the office naked," she added, her frustration almost comical as she slammed the door on her way out.
By midmorning, although she hadn't forgotten her adventures in the Roaring Twenties, she had managed to summon up enough humor to laugh at them.
Louie the Lump? she thought, giggling as she bent over her work. It was as ridiculous as her being a gun moll, or Mr. Gregory being a Fitzgerald-style playboy.
One thing Leah avoided thinking about was the scene with her boss in the small dressing room. Every time it flashed into her mind she felt heat rising in her face. And other places, she admitted ruefully. She disliked the thought that she was secretly sexually frustrated, and that those frustrations were causing the disturbing dreams.
She frowned in irritation. This silent debate was getting her nowhere, she decided obstinately. She would be better off forgetting the entire thing.
Which, of course, was easier said than done. At lunch Leah, Bitty and Shelley decided to try a Chinese restaurant that had recently opened nearby. They easily found a table in the half-empty dining room and got down to the main purpose of the luncheon: gossip.
Leah had never considered gossip a female occupation. She considered it a human one, and as long as it didn't turn malicious, she enjoyed listening, simply because she was intrigued by her fellow human beings.
"Have you seen Faith's new man?" Bitty asked as they handed the menus back to the waiter.
"What is this?" Leah asked. She gingerly picked up something from the appetizer plate the waiter had brought with the menus.
"It's an egg roll," Shelley said, grabbing one and taking an enthusiastic bite. As she chewed her expression grew bewildered. "No—no, it's definitely not an egg roll," she gasped, reaching frantically for a glass of water.
The other two women dropped the things back on the plate, mentally crossing the restaurant off their lists.
"What were you saying about Faith?" Leah asked.
"She's dating a guy from the mail room. I know you've seen him—tall and thin, with three-inch-thick glasses. His name is Derek."
Leah shook her head thoughtfully. "No, I can't remember seeing him. Is he okay?"
Shelley smiled. "The best he'll ever be is okay. But Faith is crazy about him. He sends her poetry on the back of transfer slips."
"Well...that's sort of romantic," Leah said doubtfully. "How long has it been going on?"
"Only about a week," Bitty said. "But don't worry. Neither of them is the type for heavy passion. Besides, Faith said she's not sure he's the One."
All three women groaned. "She'll never learn," Shelley said. "She's still
She heard him shout, "No—Leah!" Then hot,
piercing pain seemed to jerk her backward, into her
lover's arms.
* * *
It was only after Leah's third cup of coffee that the dull, hung-over feeling began to fade. Her neck was stiff from sleeping on the couch, and she had prob-
ably caught cold because she hadn't turned down the air conditioning.
That stupid, stupid dream, she thought, gazing into her coffee as though mesmerized. It had been even worse than the first one. Leah hadn't even fought this time. She had simply gone along with it.
"And on top of that, I probably blew a movie contract," she muttered, pushing her chair back and standing.
Later, as she gave her long blond hair a light touch of hair spray, she stared at her face in the mirror. For a moment bright red lips and false eyelashes were superimposed over her own image.
She shook her head in irritation, pushing the vision away. "I don't want to think about what it meant," she told herself aloud for the third time that morning. "I don't want to think about Freud and his sneaky little theories about wish fulfillment."
Stalking into the living room, she picked up her briefcase and purse. "I simply want to have nice, normal dreams about stalking madmen and walking into the office naked," she added, her frustration almost comical as she slammed the door on her way out.
By midmorning, although she hadn't forgotten her adventures in the Roaring Twenties, she had managed to summon up enough humor to laugh at them.
Louie the Lump? she thought, giggling as she bent over her work. It was as ridiculous as her being a gun moll, or Mr. Gregory being a Fitzgerald-style playboy.
One thing Leah avoided thinking about was the scene with her boss in the small dressing room. Every time it flashed into her mind she felt heat rising in her face. And other places, she admitted ruefully. She disliked the thought that she was secretly sexually frustrated, and that those frustrations were causing the disturbing dreams.
She frowned in irritation. This silent debate was getting her nowhere, she decided obstinately. She would be better off forgetting the entire thing.
Which, of course, was easier said than done. At lunch Leah, Bitty and Shelley decided to try a Chinese restaurant that had recently opened nearby. They easily found a table in the half-empty dining room and got down to the main purpose of the luncheon: gossip.
Leah had never considered gossip a female occupation. She considered it a human one, and as long as it didn't turn malicious, she enjoyed listening, simply because she was intrigued by her fellow human beings.
"Have you seen Faith's new man?" Bitty asked as they handed the menus back to the waiter.
"What is this?" Leah asked. She gingerly picked up something from the appetizer plate the waiter had brought with the menus.
"It's an egg roll," Shelley said, grabbing one and taking an enthusiastic bite. As she chewed her expression grew bewildered. "No—no, it's definitely not an egg roll," she gasped, reaching frantically for a glass of water.
The other two women dropped the things back on the plate, mentally crossing the restaurant off their lists.
"What were you saying about Faith?" Leah asked.
"She's dating a guy from the mail room. I know you've seen him—tall and thin, with three-inch-thick glasses. His name is Derek."
Leah shook her head thoughtfully. "No, I can't remember seeing him. Is he okay?"
Shelley smiled. "The best he'll ever be is okay. But Faith is crazy about him. He sends her poetry on the back of transfer slips."
"Well...that's sort of romantic," Leah said doubtfully. "How long has it been going on?"
"Only about a week," Bitty said. "But don't worry. Neither of them is the type for heavy passion. Besides, Faith said she's not sure he's the One."
All three women groaned. "She'll never learn," Shelley said. "She's still
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