The door opened before Phil could knock. Marisol stood in it wearing a stained, worn flannel nightie, her face showing fading bruises. Even so, it had...matured, tightened, become more definite and more beautiful."Hey," she said shyly. "I saw the car."Phil nodded and swallowed. Her voice sounded worn and broken, but it was Marisol's voice. Tingling warmth spread through his body."Could I come in?" he asked.She didn't move for a moment, staring into his eyes, her eyes sadder than usual. She. Maybe if she and Ronnie played around she’d see if it was okay, and then if it was she could go out with Julie, the lesbian who so intrigued and tempted her. Even though she considered herself a little bi-curious, she had to admit that she hadn’t really been turned on, really turned on, by any woman before Julie, and none since. There was just something about her dark eyes and long, silky black hair. She was so pretty, and Gwen had thought she was around her own age of twenty-three and had been. More

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