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The alarm sounded in the still dark bedroom. Nick reached over quietly, lest she wake Beth tucked snugly against her back. It was almost 7 am, just getting light out. She had an eight o'clock lab. Why she took physics still eluded her. She did like it. It was a small class, advanced level, and would be of no use to her as a photojournalist major. Hey, why not be different? She really enjoyed physics. Part of her wanted to do graduate work in physics, but financially, it wasn't possible. Almost time to get a real job.

She let her mind run over the last few weeks, and the amazing woman who slept in her bed, Beth...what a mystery. So beautiful, such a wonderful lover. Even the memory of her touch made her aroused, wet, craving the sweet magic that Beth could craft. She longed for her with a need that was almost painful. Even more so when she admitted to herself that Beth would leave eventually to abandon her, to be stranded in a transformed world. Nothing was the same anymore. Not herself, her needs, or her plans. What she wanted more than anything was Beth. The attraction and draw was so much more than physical. The sex was incredible, but so too was the closeness, the communion. Nick knew she had opened herself completely to the blonde. She had shared parts of herself that were so carefully buried and she was vulnerable because of it. Now that she felt made whole by the hands of this woman, she wanted more. Going back to her old life seemed as impossible as returning to a fluid filled womb to breath liquid instead of air. She felt so hopeless, yet so happy, a paradox that made her pause every time she looked at Beth.

What am I going to do? How can I go on without her in my life? She is all the family, all the future I want.

She felt tears forming in her eyes, and wiped them away with annoyance.

"Hey, beautiful. Are you crying?" Beth touched a damp check.

"Go back to sleep, Beth. It's early."

"Not until you tell me what's troubling you."

"Nothing." Nick smiled despite her somber mood, at the sight of the sleep tossed hair, and heavy lidded eyes that Beth rubbed to awaken herself.

"It's not nothing." Beth sat up to study her lover's angular face.

"I've got to get going. If I don't shower, people will be talking."

"I think you smell wonderful, like us, sweat, sex and paradise. Don't shower. Let them be jealous. Let them wonder who it is that pleasures you."

"I don't want to go to class. I don't want even to get out of bed." Nick pulled her closer, kissing her.

"I'm a bad influence on you." Beth smiled, half serious, with sultry eyes.

"Well, I've never slept so well, ate so well, felt so well as I have since I met you. I Never knew such joy, passion or pleasure. I'd say you are good influence. "

"And you haven't even tasted my oatmeal cookies."

"You keep promising."

"But that's all I promised." She meant it as a joke.

"I know." Nick seemed suddenly too somber. Beth saw the last piece of the puzzle slip into place.

She wants me to stay. Oh Nick, I can't, not that I don't want to.

Beth chose to ignore the unspoken question, at least openly, and responded on a different level.

"Okay, okay, oatmeal cookies today." She pushed Nick playfully away, toward her side of the bed. "Now go shower, and get to class. What time are you through today?"

"Today's a long day. I have two morning classes, then nothing until a 6-9 seminar."

"What will you do in the afternoon?"

"The library, to study. I have so many papers to write. It's an uphill battle. I took a heavy course load, to be done sooner. I should hibernate there, so I can enjoy the weekend. Do you mind if I..."

"I don't mind anything you do. As a matter of fact, I love everything you do." Beth wiggled her eyebrows, leaning over to kiss the expanse of skin before her. "Now go. I need more beauty sleep."

"Don't get any more beautiful I can't stand to be away as it is."

Beth lay in bed long after Nick left. Nick seemed in a better mood finally, with their light banter, but it all left Beth deep in thought, her wants and needs in major conflict, and Nick entangled in the core of her dilemma.

She'd been with Nick almost six weeks now. The distance from her real life helped, had allowed her to make some decisions that she had been putting off for too long. That was the good news. She just hadn't planned to fall in love with the beautiful student who had only given to her. She had never been happier, living in a second floor walk up, wearing discarded clothes, and selling sketches on weekends in the arms of someone who, she knew, felt the same way she did.

For once in my life, I am truly happy, content, at peace, and you know it has to end. The longer you stay, the more you'll hurt Nick in the end. It's already too late as it is.

What started as a night of comfort, of pleasure, and of sex, led to more caresses, more nights, and unspoken promises, made by her body and heart, promises of some reassurance, some commitment from her, that she would stay. She could see fear sometimes in Nick's eyes, after they had made love and a question, a plea as well, that she saw flicker briefly in those dark eyes repeatedly...

Isn't it enough, what we have? Will you stay? Don't leave me...

And yet, Nick would not ask, just as she had not asked again for Beth to explain who she was, where she came from, what she ran from. Nick waited for Beth to reveal herself. As days became weeks, and Beth still chose silence, Beth could sense a hurt below Nick's calm and strong exterior.

I'm sure she senses my own conflicts. I've listened to her reveal the loneliness of her life these past few years, all her disappointments, and sadness. I've tried to comfort her, in the only way I can...just to love her, hold her. It must seem like I don't trust her, or maybe don't care enough to make the effort.

Oh, Nick. If you only knew how much I want to tell you everything, to let you share my past, my future, but how can I? It's tearing me apart. Every time I see the love and adoration in your eyes and now to find you crying, needing something more from me than I can give you, now or ever. It's not fair to you, Nick. I have to go, and hope you'll forgive me, forget me, that you'll find someone more worthy of the love you have so freely given me.

It was after ten when she dragged herself out of bed, the sweet scent of Nick locked in the linen. She showered, made the bed up fresh, and put on a final wash of the towels and bedding. She folded carefully each of her clothes that Nick had gotten her. She borrowed Nick's gym bag, placing her miscellaneous toiletries there as well. Her sketch pads would leave with her, filled as they were with sketches of Nick. Ones she had worked on while Nick was in class...a collection of dresses, slacks, gowns, and a new fashion line for the spring and fall. Crisp lines and bright colors replaced all the bland starkness of the last few years; cloths all imagined draping Nick's tall frame.

The flair was back in her work. She felt more like the young fashion designer who had invaded New York four years ago, to win awards and praise, and build a large following in the fickle world of high fashion. Before she had allowed her father, who had grudgingly admitted her talent, help run her growing empire; an empire of clothing, and now cosmetics, jewelry. The name of Rebecca DeWitt seemed almost overnight to be a household word, a major force in fashion. She was the owner of a multimillion-dollar company. Her ideas and inspiration had launched it all, but as it all grew, her father's advisors and investors had their own agendas. She hired numerous designers and artists to work under her, to cope with the increase and scope of the business, the increased demands on her time, letting some develop the jewelry line, the accessories. All succeeded because of her name.

The latest, the cosmetics line had been George's idea, and was making more money than the rest combined. The main fragrance, "Simply Rebecca" was actually nice. She had insisted on getting involved with the final production choices for the exclusive perfume.

Money making money and the DeWitt name, her father's business expertise, guaranteed her more success than she wanted. She was a success, certainly wealthy in her own right and heiress to more millions when her father died; not likely to happen any time soon. At fifty-four, he was as strong, as demanding, as overbearing as he had ever been, maybe more so. Especially now that she had her own business for him to oversee.

Yet, the more successful she became, the more removed she grew from her real love, art and women's fashion. Somehow, she felt like a token presence in her own boardrooms and studios. What she wanted was the novelty and fierce independence of her starting days, when all she desired was to prove her talent, to share her view of how to make women more beautiful through clothing. Now she oversaw other designers, participated in corporate decisions, and made the necessary PR appearances to keep her name in the forefront of fashion, all this to keep her empire growing. What had started her off, her maverick spirit, her design talent, were now unimportant in the greater scope of things. She only had to rubber-stamp other's designs, sell her name for fame and fortune, always propelled further away from her true desires by her father.

She resisted him for years. She refused to follow in his footsteps in real-estate, or to participate in any of his industries. She refused to play the social roles forced upon her. As a teen, the exclusive prep schools where she boarded at least put a distance between them, allowing her to grow and remain independent. She had never fit in there, but her family's wealth assured her acceptance, no matter how renegade she must have seemed to all the other proper girls. From grade school through high school, the fortunate, the wealthy, the beautiful, very few of whom had themselves any real plans or desires for a future, surrounded her. They already had money and position in society. They wanted to marry and to continue the roles set by their mothers and sisters, the privileged few. There were so many BMW's and Mercedes coupes owned by her sixteen year old friends in school and so many summers in Europe, winters skiing.

Yet, none of the glitter appealed to her. Nor would she simply exist as one more accomplishment of her father's life. She wanted her own fame. She was not interested in becoming a loving wife, far from it. She went through the motions of dances and proms, heavy petting with the football captains, and the wealthy pretty boys who would step into their father's shoes after four years at a liberal arts college. It all meant nothing to her. Rather, Rebecca DeWitt was a lover of women. She quietly explored the world of lesbian love, from timid touches in high school, to torrid affairs with wild friends, and the women she met in bars and clubs. She remained discrete, but she had no plans to marry and have a family.

While she worked in France for two years, things changed for the young Rebecca. She finally fell in love. Lara was a model that she met in Paris. What had started out as an affair quickly grew to mean so much more. Lara came to New York with her. They lived together for four wonderful months. Then Lara suddenly moved out, leaving no forwarding address. She heard that Lara had returned to Europe, but was never given any explanation for her departure.

Beth was broken hearted, until she discovered ten months later that her father forced the issue, threatened, or paid her lover off. It was during the second year in fashion, at a time when her line had really taken off, that her image, her name needed to be promoted. Suddenly, to her father, she was no longer just a woman who liked to sketch, who fancied other women. She was influential, near the core of the new fashion world, rich, glamorous, and therefore heterosexual, by definition. It all came to a head one morning.

"Rebecca," Her father demanded her presence in his offices one day. "You have done very well in fashion. You are truly a DeWitt."

"Thank you, Father." She accepted his praise reluctantly.

"We need to insure your success financially. I've asked some of my people to present some ideas to you, to expand the fashion line. The DeWitt name, and now you're name, Rebecca, will guarantee that more success will come your way."

"I don't mind some advise, Father. Actually, the business side of things has never been my forte. You know that. I only want to continue in design."

"Good. I'll have McDonald make an appointment with you. You need to expand your executive team. More business savvy and much more publicity."

"I think I've already established my name in fashion, Father."

"I agree. Now we need to cement it there, keep it in the minds of those who matter. You've done far better, Rebecca, than I thought you would."

"It must be in the blood."

"Now, I have something else to say. You are one of the most eligible single women in New York, rich, powerful in your own right and beautiful. You have your mother's looks. I know all about your slutting around with other women, Rebecca. Does it shock you that your dirty little secret isn't so secret?"

"What I do in my private life is of no concern to you, Father. I'm twenty-six. I will live my life as I see fit."

"Rebecca, I don't care who you fuck, but you will keep it discrete. No live-in lovers like that French whore."

"What do you know about Lara?"

"I know enough that I put an end to it. Keep it on the side, Rebecca. You need to keep a public face. You need men as a part of your public persona. You need to be seen in the right places, with the right kind of people...if your fashion house is to remain mainstream. You need to marry."

"I will not, Father. I will not marry for appearance, for convenience. I will love whom I chose. I will never forgive you, if you hurt Lara."

"Don't worry about that woman. She's better off where she is."

"You are really responsible for her going?"

"Of course, as I already said, much too public, Rebecca. You need to learn discretion. Your name means too much."

"Bull shit! I thought I disliked you before, Father. I was wrong. I despise everything about you."

"Touchy, aren't we? I've been very tolerant of your resistance to me all along, allowing you to pursue your art. I've been tolerant of your perversity. I don't care what you do, Rebecca, behind closed doors, but you will not embarrass me or drag my name through the mud. If you won't chose some reasonably prominent man to marry, I'll choose one for you."

"Love means nothing to you?"

"Grow up finally, Rebecca. You've been such a dreamer. You can't suppose love has anything to do with most of the marriages you see. Marriage is a social institution, based on common needs...power, convenience. It provides us children to carry on the family name. It's an arrangement, Rebecca, not about love, passion, and hardly sex. Just how much time do you suppose I devoted to fathering you? Fifteen minutes of husbandly duty."

"You mean your marriage to Mother, however shortened by her illness, was nothing to you but a means to carry on the name, to keep up a proper image?"

"I cared about your mother, Rebecca. I just didn't love her. I've had mistresses before even while I was married to Jean. I still do. You just won't hear about it or see it in the papers. Grow up. Keep your little sluts, but do it away from where you live and work. I expect you to be married in six months. If not, I will step in. I have a list of men you should consider. I won't tell you my choice, unless I have to. It's about time that you finally understood the distinction between the private and public life that a DeWitt must live. That's all, Rebecca."

He picked up the phone, ignoring her presence as she sat, stunned and angry. She finally left the offices, and returned to her studio.

During the next five months, she struggled to go on, to find Lara, to heal the hurt she felt by her departure. She ended by burying herself in her work, her new collection, and continued to succeed in the demanding world of high fashion. She did not, however, pursue a husband. She lived a celibate life since Lara left. At first she was too saddened and hurt, and then too angry at her father's pervasive influence even in her bedroom.

As six months passed, and no wedding happened, she silently gloated. Her father could demand anything of his lackeys, but she would rather burn in Hell than allow him to manipulate her into a life style she did not want.

She was surprised one evening to find her father sitting in her living room, sipping her scotch, looking out of the picture window at the New York skyline.

"How did you get in here?"

"Really, Rebecca. I own the building."

"I hadn't realized. I'll move tomorrow."

"It's a nice apartment, a good address. Don't be such a little brat."

"Leave, Father. I have nothing to say to you. I can't stand to be in your presence."

"I thought you'd like to see the social section of the Times. I got the early copy."

"What have you done?"

"Why, I've announced your engagement to a long time family friend, and business magnate in his own right."

"What? How dare you?"

"I told you, six months. I certainly wasn't just talking."

Rebecca grabbed the paper from his hands, her fingers trembling in anger, and glanced down at the lengthy article with her picture featured. She recognized the photo from a earlier fashion article. She looked so young and happy. She recalled how she felt that day, feeling successful, content, and in love for the first time in her life. Lara had accompanied her to the photo shot, and it was a smile for Lara on her lips captured there in the photo. Now, the smile of happiness was to celebrate her upcoming marriage to a Mark Haviland, a 45 year old business man, previously married and divorced, with children near her own age.

"Who is this man?"

"Someone you will marry in November. A sharp investment banker who will advise you well, will escort you in your very visible profession and social obligations, who has a home in Connecticut, and a home outside Paris. His children are happy for him, all out of the house, by the way, settled in marriages of their own. He does not wish more children. He will do quite well financially and socially by this marriage. He has no pretense in regard to your sexual proclivities, and he will continue to pursue whatever sexual liaisons he chooses and can perhaps be of some assistance in teaching you the art of discretion. He's actually quite broad minded, my dear, having had a host of male and female lovers for years. We've actually shared a mistress. When your mother died, I broke off with my lover as well. Seemed like the right thing to do. She drifted to him. We had some interesting conversations about her, you might imagine. He might even be willing to procure you appropriate women, as long as he can watch. But then, that's something you can work out."

"I don't know what to say, Father, except your baseness exceeds my worst fear."

"Thank you, Rebecca. At least we understand each other. You'll see, in the end, that what I do is for your best interest, and the public face of Rebecca DeWitt, fashion designer, business magnate, a successful woman in a man's world, who will be safely entrenched socially and financially with a competent husband and advisor."

"And pimp." She added bitterly.

"I do so like to look after all your interests, daughter." He laughed rather heartily, proud of his worldly wisdom and tolerance. He stood, and left his drink on the coffee table. "Goodnight, Rebecca. I don't see the need to repeat this visit. I've completed my fatherly duties. I'll confine my advice now to strictly financial ones, through dear Mark."

"And when I refuse to allow this charade?"

"Then I will hurt everyone you ever cared about. I don't make statements idly. I have a list of all your lovers, their present locations, especially Lara. She'll be the first to suffer at your foolish headstrong posturing. Not to mention all your loyal coworkers that have helped you build your fame. I know you care very much about Kate, Freddie, and George. They are very vulnerable as well. Please don't force my hand. But then again, you know I love to use my not insignificant power." He paused a moment, before continuing.

"Mark will call tomorrow, to arrange a list of your upcoming commitments. You have a position to maintain, appearances to keep. He won't lead you astray. He's been playing the game for years. You will learn something from him, if nothing else. Who knows, he may even turn out to be a friend, like your mother was to me."

Rebecca stood looking at the closed door of her apartment for a long time. She could still smell her father's presence...the smell of cigars, starched dry-cleaned shirts, and the scotch.

That's it... the scotch, something to quiet the screaming in my head, the crying in my heart.

She started to drink in earnest that night, remaining pleasantly numb, smiling at the parties, stumbling in the clubs, nodding in church, fumbling on the arm of the man chosen to lead her along the path of public decency and personal deceit. She drank at board meetings. She allowed her other Designers even greater freedom in selecting all aspects of her lines.

Numb and miserable, she could feel her health slipping, her mind slowing, and her will eroding. Her appearance suffered, sometimes not bothering to change from old jeans and sweaters even at work, but at the last press release, she struggled and couldn't keep the trembling out of her voice or hands.

Her long time friend and chief designer, Kate Dennison, took over for her, motioning her to sit, calmly assuming the podium, finishing the discussion of the upcoming shows, the success of the cosmetic branch, and the final release of two new fragrances. Kate continued evenly, fielding questions. She concluded with the news that Rebecca DeWitt was taking a much needed vacation, to recover from the productive season, which understandably had taken its toll. She would return rejuvenated to the city to release yet another line of fashion, that would keep her on top of the designer market.

Rebecca smiled in affirmation, thanked the news people, and linked arms with Kate as she left the auditorium.

Kate pulled her quickly aside, into another office, and pushed her into a chair.

"I've watched you go to Hell in the last four months. You're drunk. You look like shit. You can't pull us all down with you, Beth. You have to get it together. You heard me announce your vacation.

Don't make me announce your retirement!"

Beth struggled upright and stood glaring at her best friend.

"Everyone seems to know what's best for me. Everyone is more capable than me to make the important decisions in my life. Somehow, I can't drink enough to forget it all. You're oh so right, Kate! I do need some time away...from everyone. I can't go on like this."

Kate saw the desperation in her friend's eyes.

"Oh, Beth, what's really wrong? I've never seen you like this. Is it me or is it Mark? Have you had a fight? Is the wedding off? The papers have been so full of you two. I just assumed everything was all right."

Beth stood stiffly, and spoke more loudly than she had intended.

"I will not marry that man!"

She then fled the room, narrowly missing two reporters who had been lounging outside the office, waiting to talk to both women, if they could. They shrugged at each other, seeing DeWitt fly out of the room.

"Trouble in paradise?" The reporter from Vanity Fair asked quietly.

Kate exited the office, and met their questioning looks.

"Did we hear Ms DeWitt announce that she will not marry Mr. Mark Haviland?"

"No, you heard a woman say that she would not marry that man."

"Who else was in the room, besides you and Ms DeWitt?"

"I have no comment, gentlemen."

While they could not print the story, the hounds would be out.

Why was DeWitt going away? Was the engagement still on? If not, was there another love interest? Were there financial problems in the DeWitt fortune? Why had Rebecca withdrawn into a more passive role in the fashion line? Was the preeminent new light in fashion dimming already?

Beth did not emerge from her apartment for eight days, but read the gossip columns, heard the unending number of inquiries via phone calls that were dutifully recorded on her answering machine. She did not return calls from friends, reporters, or from work, but she did stop drinking. She couldn't sleep. She spent the first twenty-four hours vomiting, but chose not to seek medical care. By the fourth day, she felt a little better. She managed to keep some soda and broth down, eat some crackers and tea. By the end of the week, she managed to dress in old jeans and a sweater, and wander out into the faceless crowds of New York City.

She walked for hours, gladly pushed, and tossed, but grateful for the sunshine and the peace of anonymity. She found herself finally in Soho, watching the young crowd of artists and college students, some lovers, some gay couples, street musicians, the children in a park. Her life was so different than she had planned. Her passion for design lay somewhere beneath the bottles of scotch in her dumpster. She recognized her betrayal of all that had mattered to her. While before she had been happy to blame her father alone for this sad state of affairs, she now knew where the responsibility lay, on her own tired shoulders. She cried a long time, that afternoon in the park, choosing not to see the concerned expressions of the people around her, or the children who stood to watch her cry. She cried for the girl she had been, the woman she had tried to become.

She knew then, with blinding clarity that she had to get away from everyone and everything, to refocus, to rebuild. She watched as another young woman hitched a ride, and stood to mimic her action, standing wearily in Soho, in a busy intersection.

A supply truck, bringing apples, and produce from Upstate New York stopped to pick her up. The driver was a Hispanic man in his sixties.

Jesus, this girl looks sad. Standing in the street, her face wet with tears. She's so thin, such a pretty girl. I can help her, anyway. Take her away from what ever she's running from. Maybe this kindness will get me my Maria back. My own poor girl. She broke our hearts, running with the crowd she did and I was too proud to help her. I pray she's all right.

With these thoughts and prayers, the driver rolled down the window, calling to the blonde.

"You need a lift?"

Beth nodded mutely.

"Come on. I'm holding up traffic. "

Beth climbed into the high cab, and sat quietly.

"You want out of the city?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." She looked at the older man, and saw kindness and concern on his face. "I want to get out of the city."

"Okay. I'm going back upstate. I'll take you as far as you want. This city is no good for living. I should be home tonight. You can catch another ride later, yes?"

"Yes, thank you. As far as you're going."

She put her head back wearily, and closed her eyes, falling into a fitful sleep. When she woke, it was night. The air was cooler. The rumble of truck wheels on the freeway replaced the sounds of the city, and a soft tape on the radio played salsa.

The driver saw her stir.

"I'm almost at my home. You hungry? My wife, she always packs me too much to eat. You want a sandwich? An apple? "

He pushed a large lunch box toward her.

"Go on. Help yourself."

She picked up an apple, and ate it quietly.

"Where are we? Are we still in New York State?"

"Yes, past Buffalo."

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. I'm going to drop you off at the next rest stop, okay?"

"Fine."

"My home's out in the boonies. You're better off catching a ride here on the interstate. But I don't like to leave you here."

"I'll be fine. Thanks for the apple."

"Well, I haul enough produce into that city. Might as well eat some of it, yes? So, you be all right?"

"I'll be all right."

"You got some family you should call?"

"No. No one I should call tonight. Thank you, though. Thank you for the ride."

Then the truck was gone, and she sat, watching the moon rise higher, and the stars come out. She cried again for all the mistakes she had made, wondering if she could undo them, or prevent the hardships her actions might bring to those people about whom she cared.

What a mess. I'm not sure I have the strength left to fight it all. I need some time. I'm running away. I'm running away to find myself. Then I'll know what to do."

She sat in the dark, letting the sounds of the night fill her, letting the damp night air cool her tear streaked face. Finally, the reality of her situation hit her. She didn't bring her wallet.

I don't have a cent on me. I refuse to call him. If I call Kate or any of the others, I'll be right back in the thick of it. I can't go back. Not now. Not yet.

She walked into the restroom, washed her face, and studied long and hard the face that looked back at her from the mirror...short blonde uncombed hair, swollen eyes, pale face, puffy from lack of sleep, too much alcohol, too much crying.

Well, one thing, love, no one will mistake you for the wealthy Rebecca DeWitt.

She looked around at the stalls and read the graffiti. She wandered out to the phone, and saw more graffiti, but no phone book. Patting her pockets, she found a quarter. Not enough for a phone call. She jiggled the phone's coin return, and heard a coin fall into the return cup. She opened it, another quarter.

So, I have 50 cents. Enough for a condemned woman's last phone call. Who shall I call? Where shall I go? I doubt I'll get a ride anywhere else tonight if I try to hitchhike.

She saw 'CAB' and a phone number, scribbled by the phone.

Why not? A cab, wherever it will take me. Then I'll figure out where I'm headed tomorrow.

And so, without really thinking through her options, she dialed.

"Bateman Cab."

"I'm on interstate l7..."

She remembered the first time she saw Nicki, and smiled, feeling again the unexpected protection and her concern that lonely night, how she wanted her company, and that bowel of chili that warmed her.

"Dear God, how can I leave her?"

The wash was dry. She rose from the cellar step, and retrieved the last wash she'd do for Nick. When the apartment was neat, and all her things were packed, she turned to look again at the small haven, the unexpected piece of paradise she had stumbled into. She would leave Nick the small self-portrait she sketched one afternoon, and a plate of oatmeal cookies. She couldn't help but cry as she arranged the plate, allowing the cookies room to cool, and yet all fit on the dish.

I have to go back. I can't involve her in any of it. My fatherwould only hurt her in ways she couldn't imagine.

She wondered again about Lara, the only other woman besides Nick that she had loved. It was different with Nick, though. Different from anything she had felt before. She could be happy with Nick. She could love her forever. She knew Nick wanted the same thing, for them to stay together. She just couldn't give her more of herself than she had...six weeks of complete surrender. She had lost herself in Nick's love, and found herself again in her gentle support, unquestioned acceptance, and her warm embrace. Now she would hurt Nick, like Lara had hurt her, and just disappear...to protect her from her father, from her unhappy, overwhelming whirlwind life. She had already called her driver, who would arrive shortly. She hesitated before writing a note.

Dearest Nick,

I cannot repay you for your kindness or the love you so freely gave. I wish things were different, that I could promise you more. I have to go back. I have responsibilities I cannot ignore any longer. Forgive me.

Love, Beth.

I took your gym bag, just one more thing that I can only thank you for. I am forever in your debt.

She saw the limo drive up, stood straighter, carried the bag over her shoulder, and walked out of Nick's apartment, and out of her life.

Part 3

Rebecca sat silently in the rear of the limo, watching the driver.

"John?"

"Yes, Miss DeWitt?"

"I trust you will keep this address confidential."

"Yes, Miss DeWitt. Discretion is assured, Miss."

"Especially from my father, John. I know you worked for him a good number of years before coming to work for me."

"My loyalties are to you, Miss. Don't worry. I'm glad you're back."

"Well, that's a lot more than I am. But thank you, John."

She got to the city by 4:45, and was in her apartment by 6:00.

The traffic and the smog were a shock to her after six weeks of quiet small towns, and the frequent excursions into the country side she had enjoyed with Nick with time spent at the nearby lakes. Now just gray dirt and noise all around her.

The first thing she did was to call Kate at the design studio, to set up a meeting for dinner that night at her apartment, with the other four design artists included. She called the club to have a meal catered, and went about sorting the mail already piled on her desk. Her secretary, who she knew had cared for her plants as well, had attended to much of the business side of things.

Everything looked unchanged here, wide expanses of windows, a modern decor, little in the way of personal touches. The decorator had created the perfect executive retreat, yet she felt no warmth here. The ceilings were too high, the walls too white. The place was too big for one woman to fill, she thought as she looked around, comparing the apartment with the one she had just left.

The caterers came, and made ready the meal.

''Thank you, I'll serve. That's all for tonight."

"Are you sure, Miss DeWitt? We were planning on serving, then cleaning up, as always."

"No. That's all. I'll call tomorrow for you to pick up the dishes. The doorman will let you in at a convenient time."

"Very well, Miss DeWitt. We put coffee on. And uncorked your favorite wine."

"Fine. Thank you."

Kate arrived before the others at 7:00 PM. She was anxious to see Beth, and rushed to hug her.

"You look so much better, Beth! Are you all right?"

"I am, Kate. Thank you for everything. I needed time away. "

"I was so worried. You never called. I covered for you, of course, but I had nightmares. You looked so broken when you fled the press conference. I said some harsh things. I shouldn't have."

"Kate, you are my best friend. I love you. I needed to hear it all. Now tell me what happened while I've been away."

Kate eyed the wine bottle uneasily. "Shall I pour us some wine?"

"No thanks, Kate. I haven't touched a drop in six weeks."

"Thank God. Shall I put it away?"

"No. The others might want some. I'm fine with it, Kate."

"Does your father know you're back?"

"I just got to the city after 4 o'clock. But knowing my father, he probably does."

"Does Mark know you're back yet?"

"Only if my father told him."

"The papers have been full of stories...where you were, where he was, if there was a private marriage ceremony."

"He's been away?"

"That's the word in the gossip rags."

"Not with me, Kate."

"Just checking."

"The others will be here soon. I'll tell you everything later."

They stayed until 11:00, discussing changes, problems. Beth showed them all her sketches, and outlined plans for the fall and spring lineup.

Jerry finally looked up, and smiled at the serious executive

"You're back, aren't you, Rebecca?"

"I'm back." she smiled gently.

"The clothes are fantastic. A new look, simple but confidant. We'll kill them in Paris."

"I need this connection, guys. I'm nothing without my fashion, my art. I got swept away with the corporate thing, you know, just lost."

"We missed you, sweetie." Another of her old friends, Freddie, spoke up.

"I want to concentrate on just this again."

"I can see the fire is back in your eyes, love."

"Thank you all for coming. I'll be in tomorrow around eleven. I have a lot to catch up on." She rose as they did, to escort them out.

"Love the look, sweetie." Jerry looked her up and down, taking in her worn jeans and denim shirt.

"What look?"

"The starving artist thing...lean but knowing, in charge. We should do it."

"I was thinking of that, actually, a line of clothes for real people. Not this designer thing exclusively. Too small an audience."

"It all trickles down."

"I know, but way too elitist, you know."

"This time has been good for you, Beth." Freddie added. "Re-grounded you."

"Finally grounded me, you mean."

Kate lingered after the apartment cleared out.

"Are you going to tell me where you've been? And who she is?"

"What?"

"The woman in all of your drawings?"

"You weren't supposed to notice that, Kate."

"Dear girl, we've been friends too long. I haven't seen you this happy, this centered, since Lara. Did you bring her back with you?"

"No, I didn't Kate. And she doesn't know who I am."

"What do you mean, who you are?"

"I've been on my own, no name, no baggage."

"And you found this beautiful creature where?"

"That would be telling." She smiled sadly at her friend.

"You can't loose her, Beth."

"I'm sure I already did, coming back."

"You told her nothing? Just walked away?"

"Yes."

"Are you getting heartless, calloused? I am shocked, Beth."

"It was the hardest thing I ever did, Kate, but I want to protect her."

"From what?"

"From my father, my fucked up life."

"What about Mark?"

"What about him? You know I don't care about him."

Kate's eyes got large.

"You thought I fell in love, and actually wanted to marry him?"

"Well, he seemed well suited to you, everything your father would want in a husband for you."

"Exactly."

"Exactly? It was all...arranged by your father? Why?"

"To allow me 'my perversity' and still have a public persona that would protect the DeWitt name."

"Beth, since when did you ever listen to him?"

"He threatened me, Kate."

"How? You're not afraid of him, are you?"

"He couldn't hurt me, Kate, but he threatened everyone else. Lara, you, Jerry, all my old lovers...'everyone you ever cared about.' I just gave in, Kate. I couldn't let you all get hurt because of me. The perfect solution; a marriage for appearance sake for the prodigal lesbian daughter. I'm sure it's been done so many times before."

"More than you might imagine, I'm sure, and you just kept this all to yourself and suffered? I'm hurt, Beth."

"I don't know why I'm telling you now, Kate. You can't fix this. I just don't want to lie anymore." She shrugged. "I think I'm getting hoarse from all this talking." She added, smiling sadly again.

Kate hugged her. "Well, I'm glad, no, we're glad you're back and if your father wants to try to hurt me…I say, go for it. I'll go down fighting...for the best cause I know. We all love you, Beth. Don't do anything you don't want to for us. Not one of us could live with seeing you so unhappy, ever again. Not worth the price, dear, not by a long shot. Our well-being for your happiness? Not going to happen! You know, Beth," Kate continued thoughtfully," you probably have near the financial worth your father does. Maybe it's time for you to start to throw your own power around. You don't have to take it from him, without giving it back."

"Maybe you're right, Kate. Again. Goodnight, friend."

Kate paused at the doorway, turning around to face her oldest friend.

"And Beth?"

"What, dear?"

"If this woman means to you what I think she does, you're never going to be happy until she's with you. She got you this, your style, your art back. Your spirit is alive again. I see strength there in your eyes that has been missing too long. If she did this for you, you owe it to all of us to keep her in your life."

"Goodnight Kate. I have so much to think about."

"Don't think so much about everything. Some things are just too fundamental for thought."

"Get home, Kate. Sam with wonder where you've gotten."

"Oh, he trusts me around you. I'm not sure why." She winked as she gave a final wave. "Nite, honey."

The next weeks flew by. Beth didn't allow herself to think of Nick. Except late at night when she tried to sleep. She sent Nick a set of luggage. She also sent $500 to Bateman Cab Co, for the drivers and dispatcher's pleasure, like coffee and donuts. She anonymously paid off Nick's tuition, knowing she would get a refund. She tracked down Nick's landlord, and paid for the next three months rent.

It all seemed so impersonal, almost insulting, she knew. It was all she could do. She didn't want to imagine Nick's face, coming home that night, to find the place empty…and the cookies. She knew they wouldn't be eaten. Everything she did to repay Nick must have seemed like a slap in the face to the generous woman, a bitter reminder of her own apparent disregard for Nick's feelings.

Oh, if you only knew, Nicki. I am hurting so much. Every moment that I stop, I think of you. I see your face. I feel your gentle embrace.

Her father, in the meantime, was surprisingly silent.

Beth sent telegrams to both Mark and her father the second day she was back. ' There will be no marriage.'

That's all she said. Nothing more was needed. She did not owe either an explanation. To put questions to rest, she arranged an interview with a friendly member of the press...on the pretense of discussing the new line of clothes she planned, but encouraged questions of a more personal nature. She denied rumors she had been ill. She confirmed that she had been away, overwork demanding that she regroup, allowing her time alone to produce the new fashion look. She admitted that she and Mark had found irrevocable differences between them, and while he would always be her friend and advisor, marriage between them was not possible. Now and in the future, both families would remain close, but no more than that was now possible. To the questions of new loves and future plans, Rebecca DeWitt professed a renewed commitment to her craft, discussing a new popular line of clothing for college students, discussing the unnecessary division between high fashion and working women, and students, and her plans to unite both.

The piece would be a long one. She knew from that interview other snippets would appear in the gossip columns. She looked renewed. She had no marriage plans. She denied any other love interests. Unattached, free to sample, still too wild to settle down. These phrases were batted back and forth over the ensuing months. Rebecca DeWitt, the catch of city, was still up for grabs.

Beth knew, in a way, that her father had been right. She did need to be more visible socially, at operas, at charities, at shows. She went, always cheerful, very much a part of the New York scene, but never with an escort. She would only smile, winking at the many questions of new love interests, and dismissed them all away with the wave of her elegant hand.

The studios, in the mean time, were frantic to get ready for the fall show. The outfits were going to be ready in time. The statement was a strong one...of independence, feminine yet strong, unencumbered, in command.

Beth allowed the other divisions of DeWitt Fashion to function without her direct involvement. A few new accessories, a new scent, a revamped cosmetic line with more natural colors were in the works.

Life went on. The DeWitt Empire grew. Beth survived, lost in the pace, the demand for her presence and her approval at many levels.

She, nonetheless, turned her main attention to preparing for the important fall showing, even helping to select the models that might best compliment what she had in mind. She wanted them tall, sleek, dark, and commanding. She wanted them all to be Nick. The modeling agencies were only too happy to provide portfolios on all their women.

Only Kate knew what she was doing, saw the emptiness that crept into Beth's eyes as she watched each model. Three days, and fifty girls later, they had selected only three women to show the clothes. Kate pulled Beth aside.

"We've got to do better than this, Beth. We're wasting time we don't have. We need at least fifteen girls."

"I know, Kate. I'm sorry."

"Let me pick the rest? I know what you're looking for. I've seen the sketches. And I know who you're looking for."

"Oh Kate, I miss her so much."

"Have you called her?"

"No."

"Is your father being nice?"

"No. Just silent. I've spoken to neither Mark or my father since I've been back."

"But the papers, the marriage being off..."

"I sent them telegraphs." Kate choked on the coffee she was sipping.

"Telegraphs?"

"Well, they didn't involve me in setting the marriage up. I just read the announcement in the Times. I didn't involve them in undoing it."

"You are amazing."

"No more lies...that's all, Kate."

"Then why haven't you called her, sent for her?"

"It's not that easy, Kate. I know I hurt her. She won't trust me."

"How can you be sure?"

"Please, Kate... I can't talk about her. Not yet."

"You have been back four months, Beth. You owe her something."

"I owe her everything, Kate. I'm going to my office. Will you look over the last two agencies' offerings?"

"I will. There are some new faces, I understand. Some girls with real potential...new blood for a new look."

"All right, I trust you, Kate."

"We've been doing this long enough, together. "

"I know. And I haven't felt this good about my work in a long time." She kissed Kate's cheek, and returned to the executive offices.

"I'll send up the girls I pick, before you leave and I'm going to re-look at the photos from this morning. I think there are five or six women we could use."

"Fine. I'll be here until nine at least. I have some other work to do."

There was one woman, Kate was sure, that looked almost like the woman from Beth's sketches, but older, more world weary.

The stance, the grace, the strength were there. She would be the lead off, the woman for the most stunning pieces, despite her relative inexperience. The name sounded unusually familiar...Ruselli. Perhaps she was related to the woman who had commanded top dollar in the seventies, and who had graced the covers of most fashion magazines for several years before she disappeared. Kate promised herself to hunt down the connection.

For now, they had enough models for the show...all with a similar aura, all different shades of dark elegance like the Ruselli woman. Kate asked the seven women she had selected that afternoon to come with her to meet Rebecca DeWitt, designer and owner of the fashion house.

Kate and her entourage approached the offices; only to hear loud angry voices emanating from the inner suite of rooms...she recognized the authoritative voice of Mr. Greyson DeWitt, and the angry and equally commanding voice of Rebecca.

"Ladies, sit here a while in the outer lounge, down the hall there. I'll send for you when she's free."

Nick stood quietly in the executive's hall, looking at the plush surroundings, the awards, the press articles. The woman's voice she heard in the background made her look sharply at the press clippings adorning the walls beside her. The blonde woman, elegant and smiling, could only be... Beth!"

"Beth...Rebecca DeWitt." She should have made the connection. Now she understood the money tossed her way so casually. Beth had returned to her responsibilities, to her wealth and power. She had paid off her temporary lover with money, money to assuage any guilt she might have felt for using and then abandoning her.

How ironic, Nick, and here you are, hired to model her line. Perfect. An open door to the fashion world, a place in the DeWitt fall show guaranteed to get me any job I want for the next few years, especially if I am lead model.

Could she swallow her pride and work for Beth despite how she had been treated? No. Simply no. She would go back to Buffalo. Then, in the summer, go to Europe for work. She'd get another break, and avoid any heart wrenching contact with Beth...Beth who obviously regarded her as a closed chapter, a diversion, and an escape from her real life. Nick laughed at the irony of taking Beth shopping at the Thrift Store. What a beautiful example off why their lives would forever remain separate.

She sighed, looking again at the picture of the woman who had touched her heart and soul like no one else. She wanted to remember the bliss of those few weeks, the love and gratitude she knew she had seen deep in those blue eyes.

Could I have been so wrong? Am I that big a fool?

A louder commotion from the inner offices caught her attention. Kate rushed away toward more loud arguments, Beth's voice, indignant and angry. Then Nick heard a note of fear there as well in the voice she remembered. She didn't pause to think. She needed to help Beth, moving past the other models, through the empty outer office of the secretary to the corporate executive, to finally stand in the central office doorway, seeing distress and anger cloud Beth's face.

She took in the expanse before her, ornate cherry desk, oriental rugs, a velvet sofa, large vase of iris and orchids, and behind the desk, a framed sketch in pencil. A picture of a happier Nick, sitting at a table, books open... like the first sketch Beth had made of her. She forced herself to focus on the conflict before her, to listen to the man's angry threats. Threats...he was threatening Beth.

"I will find your slut, and ruin her. I warned you. I've only begun to reward your insolence."

"Enough, Father. I won't listen to this anymore. If you insist on threats, I'll make my own. Kate reminded me that I could do my own damage, if necessary; to protect those I care about. You are not invincible, Father. We'll dig in your own closets, and see what dirt, whose skeletons we can unearth and what business dealings are beyond the law. The IRS would be very interested in the sale of the last few companies. I know what their real worth is. I know the profits were carefully folded into other offshoots. How careful were you, Father? You and all your clever accountants? Don't threaten me any more. I'll protect her at any cost. Nick means too much to me, Father. I won't let you touch her."

Nick found herself walking quietly and confidently into the office and saw Mr. DeWitt stop before he replied to Beth's last declaration, seeing his eyes widen in surprise. Beth saw puzzlement replace her father's usual harsh commanding glare, and turned herself to see a tall brunette walking toward her. She could feel again the confidence, strength and courage that radiated off the woman. Nick stopped beside Beth, putting her hand on the smaller woman's shoulder.

"Is this bastard why you left without me? His threats against me?"

Now an even angrier man yelled at Beth.

"Rebecca, I told you to keep your sluts private...to keep your depravity behind closed doors."

Nick calmly turned, meeting his angry glare with quiet disregard. She felt Beth tremble beneath her hand.

"Does she know she's just your latest whore? Another model willing to let you fuck her for a nice income?"

"It's not true. When I met her, I had nothing, She took me in, loved me when I had no where else to go."

"Well, exactly my point, amazing who you sleep with to accomplish your goals. You got your escape, a roof over your head and she got to fuck you as reward. You're no different than I am, Rebecca. You use your models to play with, those willing to sell themselves to you for work. You use your own body to accomplish what you want. Why you refused Mark, I'll never understand. He'll still take you. Financially he needs this deal. You're a fool to pass him up. Maybe your little slut here can make you see the value of a public marriage. Talk some sense into her, Nick. I'll make it worth your while. Then leave her alone. Crawl back under your rock, where you belong. Better yet, I'll keep you to play with. We'll keep you in the family. Our little secret, eh daughter?"

Nick let her anger build, saw the hurt and defeat in Beth's eyes, the cold look of victory on her father's face as he sensed his daughter's resolve falter. This man had demoralized, dominated Beth, had reduced her to the broken tearful woman who had run anywhere to be free so many months ago. Whether she could remain in Beth's life suddenly didn't matter. What mattered was only keeping Beth safe, free from this man's pervasive evil and domination.

She stepped in front of Beth, and walked calmly toward the gloating man. Her voice was calm when she spoke.

"Money is the answer to everything, they say. Money and power. You have a lot of both." She looked him over as if she were buying a horse. "I respect power. You are very good at crushing people, aren't you? Crushing the spirit out of them and tossing them away, I'm sure. Every one has their price, Mr. DeWitt. You can usually get your way, buying people, or ruining them, but then, I'm an expensive diversion. I'm not sure you could afford me. You certainly can't hurt me. You must have done your homework. I have no family, no property, and no plans. I have no debts, no vices that I wouldn't gladly admit to. I'm very open about my sexual orientation. I don't embarrass easily. I don't back down from what I want. I have nothing to loose, Mr. DeWitt. I don't have expensive tastes. I live quite well on a small income. I don't want your money. I certainly don't want to fuck you. In fact, I may be the only person you can't threaten or buy off. So, I'm a dangerous enemy, Mr. DeWitt because I'll do anything in my power to protect Beth, to help her, and I am at her complete disposal. If she asks me to go, I will. If she asks me to stay, I will. If she asks me to take you apart, to beat you to a pulp, I will. If she asks me to help ruin you financially, to expose you as the mean spirited dominating bastard you are, I'll be happy to make you grovel at her feet. Are we clear, Mr. DeWitt? But we can keep it in the family, if you want. Just keep away from Beth, before I get really angry, and do something about it now."

She turned indifferently and walked back toward the stunned blonde who had yet to speak to her. Nick smiled. "I could use a cup of coffee. Want to join me?"

"Oh God, Nick..." Beth ran to her, and was folded in strong arms.

"I didn't think I'd find you here, Beth." Nick spoke softly. "You have a habit of showing up in the strangest places."

"Nick, what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Both women paused, turning as the office door slam shut.

"Well, he's gone." Nick spoke absently, still holding Beth gently in her arms.

Kate rushed in once the senior DeWitt stormed by her, only to stop in surprise at the two women clinging to each other.

"Now what?" Nick asked, getting annoyed again, just wanting to talk to her lover, to hear an explanation as to what she thought she already understood. She needed to hear the words.

"Beth," Kate spoke with some embarrassment. "Is this her? Oh my God. I'm so glad. I'll leave you two alone."

Beth pulled back and stood a moment to look at Nick. Then she took her hand and turned a smiling face toward her friend.

"Kate, meet Nick."

"We've already met."

"What?"

Nick spoke up quietly. "I came for the modeling job."

"I didn't even know you modeled." Beth was stunned again.

"I guess there's a lot we don't know about each other."

"I hired her. " Kate gushed. "I thought she'd make a perfect lead, exactly like the spirit of your drawings come to life. I was bringing the girls up for your approval. I selected seven plus her."

Beth squeezed Nick's hand, and smiled at Kate.

"I don't have to see them today, Kate. I trust your judgment.

Apologize for me. We'll start tomorrow in earnest. We have a lot of work to do before the show."

"We'll get it done. I'll see you on Monday, Beth."

"Kate, it's Wednesday."

"Exactly. Executive privilege. Rank has its rewards. You two have a lot of talking to do, a lot of catching up to do."

"Can you spare the time, Beth? We do need to talk." Nick asked hesitantly.

"Oh, Nick, I so need to talk to you."

"Well, nice to meet you finally, Nick. You didn't let him scare you?"

"Nothing he can do or say matters at all to me."

"Good. I feel the same way. She's worth it. We all love her. She's been so willing to sacrifice herself for others. I say...to Hell with him!"

"To Hell with him, is right!" Nick repeated, draping her arm protectively across Beth's shoulder. "So, how about that cup of coffee? I certainly could use the company."

Beth could feel her tears coming, and looked up helplessly into Nick's dark eyes. Kate quietly closed the door, leaving the two women alone, and returned to the task of marshaling the models on to another floor for employment papers and contracts.

Beth was once again carefully held, gently caressed as she cried. Nick only wanted to feel her, to soak up the sorrow and free her lover from the suffering she again felt. Finally, Beth calmed, and wiping her face, she looked up at Nick.

"Do you want coffee? I have a carafe here. We can sit and…" She sank into the sofa. "Can you forgive me, Nick?"

The tall woman sat a distance apart, and studied her a moment.

"You know I've been worse than miserable these last few months."

"I know."

"All I could discover was that a limo picked you up."

"I couldn't tell you. I was so afraid he'd hurt you."

"He is a bit much."

"The understatement of the year."

"I've missed you terribly. I knew you'd leave eventually, but it didn't make it any easier when it happened. And you shouldn't have sent all that money."

"I wanted to do more. The money, it's something I have more than enough of in my real life. And it all means so little to me."

"From one extreme to the other."

"It's ironic. That 50 cents I spent on the phone call to your cab company is the only money I consider well spent, Nick."

"Your only 50 cents at the time."

"But it was the only money I really ever needed. And look what it got me...talk about a bargain."

"What did it get you, Beth?"

"Only the most important person in my life, the only person I have ever loved so much, that accepted me, just me, for exactly who and what I am. I would have spent everything I had to get that."

"Some things can't be bought, Beth, only given. I offered you everything I had, however pitiful it was, in comparison to your world."

"And I offered you everything that I could give you then, Nick, my heart, my love."

"And what can you offer me now, Beth? The money you sent?"

She could see the blonde cringe at her words.

"I didn't mean to insult you, Nick. Please, I know how hard you work, to get by. I only wanted to give you some freedom, to let you enjoy your last year in school, even if it wouldn't be spent with me."

"I don't want your money, Beth."

"What do you want?" Beth asked softly.

"Only what you want to give. I'm not blind, Beth. I know I was opening myself up for a major hurt, to let you inside, to open my heart and life to you so fully. I made myself promise to ask for nothing in return, to just love you...no strings attached, no hidden agendas. Part of me hoped you'd stay, even though I knew you would return to your life, to the life you ran from. It's just been so hard to let you go, to try to build back up those walls, you know?

It hurt, Beth, even though I prepared myself. Honestly, I lived through finding you gone, the apartment empty, every time I came home at the end of the day, even when you were there. Then I'd see you smiling up at me after I opened the door and I would have hope, until the next time I had to return.

When it finally happened, when I saw those damn oatmeal cookies, I knew you left. Debt paid in full. I just sat there like an idiot, and looked at those cookies. I didn't read your note for a few days. I didn't have to. I missed a couple days of classes, until my physics professor called and made me get my ass in gear. I finished early. I couldn't stay in that apartment without you. I thought about grad school, but then, I had to move on. I modeled some in high school. My mother was quite well known, Maria Ruselli. "

"I've seen her pictures. I never thought..."

"No. Who would link a cab driver in Buffalo to a top fashion model? Before she died, we were going to make a try at the circuit, but then, well, you know the college part. I bored you with the details already."

"Not bored me. Please Nick. I so much wanted to tell you who I was, but it would have changed everything. I wasn't ready to deal with it all. "

"I know. Well, after you left, Buffalo seemed too small a town. I wanted to forget you, Beth, that's why I called my mother's agency, and I've been modeling in New York for a month now. Doing well, I might add."

"Doing well? Of course. I told you, Nick, you are one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen."

"So, here I am, answering the agency bulletin for tall, dark and sleek. Only to find the person I was trying so hard to forget."

"Do you still want to forget me, Nick?"

"Part of me does. Part of me wants to promise I'll never leave you, no matter what." She studied the blonde, trying to remain detached. "I don't know how I can fit into your life, Beth. I have nothing but a college degree in my pocket. I've been staying in a hostel here in Manhattan, until I could get enough together to get a place of my own. "

"You should have had some money back from the university."

"I couldn't take it. I have a credit there, for future studies."

"Still making ends meet."

"It's what I do best."

"Let me return the favor."

"What?"

"Stay with me, until you get on your feet. My place, no matter how decadent, has got to be better than a hostel in Manhattan...until you know what you want."

"Oh, I know what I want. I just don't think it will ever happen."

"What do you want, Nick?"

"It's such sweet pain to sit here, to see you, Beth. I'm not that tough. If you decide again, that I can't be part of your life..."

"Nick, I hurt you so badly. I was selfish to give in to my needs, my wants, that first night. I so desperately needed you to love me, to heal me. I'm asking again out of selfishness, asking you to take another chance on me. Even if there is a risk of my father trying his utmost to destroy you, to destroy us. I want to be with you, Nick. If you ever can forgive me."

"And have me just be a leech, a freeloader?"

"You can model if you want. It doesn't matter. I have enough money to buy the state of Rhode Island."

"If it comes out that we're lovers..."

"It would do wonders for your modeling career. This business loves a scandal."

"What will it do to yours?"

"You know, Nick, I don't care. I played the little straight socialite for the four months before I met you, engaged to marry a stranger at my father's insistence...to keep the family name pure and to do whatever I wanted in private. So I lived a lie and got drunk everyday, to numb it all away. I believed his threats, to hurt everyone I cared about if I defied him. He would have driven them all away. He'd done it before, so I discovered, with the only other woman I loved, years ago. So I just stayed drunk, until I couldn't even function, couldn't think or draw, until I just ran away, and found myself in your arms.

I don't care, Nick, if it's common knowledge, that I have a woman as a lover. I have enough money that it really won't matter if my companies suffer. Some might. Some might actually prosper. It doesn't matter. You matter. You gave me back my pride, my strength, my design, and art, just by your love and support. I'm kidding myself if I think I can battle him alone, that I can continue in this vacuum without your love. So, I'm asking you to come and stay with me. To give us another chance."

"And all the money you gave me?"

"You can owe me." Beth smiled hopefully, seeing the glint in Nick's eyes. "Or work it off...the indentured servant thing. I do have some first hand knowledge about that."

"If I stayed with you, room and board, plus the cash, I'd never get free. Without some sort of contract."

"Honestly, dear Nick, I'm not sure I want to define any limits in a contract, or that I want to give you the option of walking away debt free. Not unless you take me with you." She added quietly. "I'd like to be as gracious a hostess to you, as you were to me. To offer you everything I have, everything I can give you." Beth kissed Nick's hand that had moved to her own, before continuing. "But, I have a very uncomfortable couch."

"How many bedrooms?"

"Just one."

"Two beds?"

"No."

"I can get used to a hard couch."

"I was hoping to offer you the bed."

"You like the couch?"

"Not."

"You're not suggesting I sleep with you, in exchange for room and board? That I fuck you to get ahead?"

"I was hoping we might fuck each other, just because it feels so damn good."

"No hidden agendas?"

"No hidden agendas, but lots of strings attached, with promises spoken, assurances given."

"Of what?"

"Just of love, Natasha. Just of love, need, and comfort."

"No cookies? You know I never ate those oatmeal cookies."

"I figured as much. They weren't very good. I couldn't find a recipe, and I was crying so hard when I made them, I'm sure I forgot something."

"I love you, Beth."

"Are we okay, Nick?"

"Kiss me, and I'll tell you. Give me your best shot."

"Everything depends on this kiss?"

"Seems fair to me."

Beth stood up a moment, looking down at Nick's beautiful face and smiled. She started away.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"I want to lock the office door, and close the blinds."

"Why? Don't want to be seen necking with me in public?"

"No. That's not it. I'm just not sure if you want this office, and the office across the way, to see me strip you naked, and make passionate love with you."

"Confidant, aren't you?'

"No. You just gave me permission to kiss you. You just didn't specify where I should kiss you. And since this counts so much, I have very definite ideas."

"You're killing me here, Boris."

"Oh, I intend on making you scream, in the very least."

"Have Mercy. I'm out of practice again."

"Well, then, I'll have to make it worth your while."

Nick moved closer, caressing Beth's face, outlining her lips with her fingertip.

"Beth?" she asked, before bending to kiss the blonde's full lips. "Are you done talking yet?" Beth nodded silently. "Because I have one question. Why me?"

"Because I love you, Nick. I just love you."

The End