friends with him, if he ever showed that he could be a friend to us.

But such was not to be.

Bob's fury against the closeness he knew existed between Jan and me, climaxed in a way I had never foreseen.

The July day was perfect, golden sunshine, turquoise sky. It was Saturday. Bob had been sulking all morning because I told him he could not go with Jan and me on a picnic for two, among the twisted cypress that dot the white sands of the beach near Carmel.

That afternoon Jan and I finally got away from Bob. We had a heavenly time, swimming, walking along the shore, talking and eating our fried chicken, vegetable salad, and cookies. When the sun set we were resting on the sand. It was getting cool, so we built a fire of driftwood and made coffee in the pot we had brought along. Then after coffee we just sat close together listening to the swish and roar of the surf.

We were planning how someday we would have a little cottage all our own. A garden. Our own library. Our favorite phonograph recordings. And a dog and cat.

To us, dreaming of sweet domesticity shared together, was as natural as any pre-marital planning by heterosexual lovers.

We held hands and wished on our wishing star, so tiny, but oh so bright far up in the deep blue sky. Jan drew me into her arms, and I clung to her. Our lips tangled in a long kiss.

There was no one in sight. We were sure we could hear a car approaching the moment it turned from the main highway. There was no moon. The ocean-tanged darkness was an invitation we could not resist.

We poured sand on the fire until the last spark was crushed out. Then Jan spread a large blanket on the beach, and we lay together, pulling part of the blanket up over us. We were engulfed by a rising tide of pas-

sionate desire. We cast caution aside. And as of one accord we took off our shorts.

I was flat on my back, Jan was hovering over me. My body was rising to meet hers, as it was lowering toward me. Moments passed, our bodies were touching, parting, meeting again, clinging! We were making movements from side to side, rubbing together, twisting, flowing... Tom-toms beat in my blood while we performed sensuous rhythms that made the darkness seem blindingly bright.

Clasped in each others' arms we reveled in the warm, moist ecstasy of passion being appeased.

We were lost in rapture. Our own little world was all that existed. And then, like the sudden roar of a terrific explosion, ugly words viciously spoken, crashed us into consciousness of reality.

"You filthy Queers!"

Pulling apart, we sat up and stared into the darkness. We saw a male figure that loomed threateningly, just beyond the circle where our fire had been. His fists were clenched.

Instinctively Jan and I pulled the blanket closer while we scrambled into our shorts.

Then Jan patted my shoulder protectively and sprang to her feet. I knew she would defend me the best she could if this intruder threatened us physically. And I clenched my fists, prepared to fight him like a wildcat if that should be necessary.

"Now I have proof why I couldn't make the grade with you, Melba."

Rage had distorted his voice the first time he had spoken, but now I recognized it, even though he still snarled from deep in his throat. Bob! Oh my God! I thought in panic. How long has he been here? What if he tells Mother about the full extent of my relationship with Jan? That it is so much more than friendship. That-