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undeserving David as she was over Stella.
    Her drink was finished. Should she have another, maybe? Standing up, Marti felt herself sway. A sudden wave of nausea hit her, and she felt beads of sweat pop out on her brow as she clutched onto the arm of the chair. No more drinks—she hated to get sick, hated the agony of vomiting. Carefully, she began to walk toward her bedroom.
    On the way, she leaned against Eve's door for a moment. Eve, wake up—I need someone. Hold my hand; talk to me; tell me she'll be back. But there was only silence. Well, she could cry herself to sleep!

CHAPTER FIVE
    In the women's washroom at Hansen, Howell & Bernstein, Stella Gervin studied her reflection in the mirror. Thank goodness last night didn't show, except as a very faint shadow under her eyes, hardly noticeable under her makeup. Stella's lips curved in a smile. Smiling, she gazed back at her mirrored self with a kind of complacence. No wrinkles. And her hair looked pretty this morning; she was glad she was letting it grow again.
    Stella's new blue dress brought out the color of her eyes; its demure ruffled collar made her neck look slender, and the skirt was midlength enough to show that she had extremely pretty legs. She wondered suddenly if David would notice. She had had the feeling that just recently he had been noticing her a lot and trying to hide it. Well, men who knew she was Marti's special friend were usually intrigued. Every man wanted to be the one who could make a lesbian come.
    Under her pale skin, Stella flushed. More of Marti's philosophy—she herself hated the word. I am not a lesbian. Bisexual, maybe. It sounded properly clinical, better than lesbian, les. Never. I can always get it from somewhere; it doesn't have to be a woman. A man with soft hands who understands women and likes to go down on them could have the same effect. Against her will, she thought of Marti as she had been last night.
    Beautiful, slender Marti with her hard-muscled dancer's body, giving her pleasure—and such pleasure! Could a man ever do the same for her?
    One of the other secretaries came in, and Stella turned away hurriedly, the flush still on her face. She picked up her purse and started to hurry out, smiling at the other girl. Thank goodness it hadn't been Gloria. Gloria always managed to make her feel plain and insecure. Privately, Stella knew it was because Gloria had her eye on David Zimmer, who was Stella's boss. To Gloria, any female who worked around David had to be competition, especially since Eve was out of the picture now. So Gloria invariably made it a point to remind Stella of her position, which was outside David's office, and safely behind her desk.
    Back at her desk, Stella put her purse away and sat down, crossing her legs. David wasn't in yet Mr. Zimmer. She always called him that in the office; it made for better business relations, and it kept Gloria off her back. It was Gloria, in fact, who had made a point of bringing George Cox into her office, on the pretext that he wanted to see David. Gloria knew very well that David was out that afternoon! Stella guessed that Gloria had also known very well that George would prefer to meet David's secretary. Well, she had no complaints about Gloria on that score, at least. George had seen her, George had liked her looks, and it hadn't been long before his phone call had come, asking her if she'd care to have dinner with a lonely old man. Stella had known that George Cox had been married at least three times and wasn't exactly lonely for female companionship, but the fact that he had asked her out was flattering—and he was such a rich man!
    Behind her desk was a window that looked out over the city. Stella loved her view of all the white buildings that seemed to glimmer in the sun when the fog went away, and the faint cresoent of blue in the distance that was San Francisco Bay. She had hated Los Angeles, but the first time she had seen San Francisco she had felt as if she belonged