Some time ago, she had liked looking at love, but now she felt fear, fear of love-kissing. She felt an intense hunger that had elements of terror blended with elements of awakening as she looked at it, trying not to look or feel any connection with it.
But she felt the desire, growing from evening to evening as she remembered or looked at, Kelsey and his love-loving and hugging and kissing—the desire to hold him, to feel him her own, so as never to let him leave, never let him escape, never let herself be taken from him and rebuilt and lost. And that was the cause of the desire, making it agonizingly stronger. And the sight of it—the sight and sound of the loving, the kisses, the motions of loving—were more and more unbearable.
Gloria was beautiful, so beautiful. She was slim and warm and tall and curved and human.
But Alice had to look just the same, as though there was some last justification in looking because it could never happen to Alice, because they were human and she was not.
They were sitting tightly entwined about one another on the couch.
"We ought to get a roommate permit real fast," Kelsey said in a whisper.
"But it hasn't been two weeks yet since the office party," Gloria said.
That was where they had met and knew it was love, at the office party.
"But maybe if we asked—" Kelsey said.
"But we shouldn't rush it honey. It wouldn't be sincere!"