Free The Sentinel by Jeffrey Konvitz

once and then assumed her prior pose, as if what Allison had just seen had not happened. Again she was cold, distant, motionless.
    Allison's stomach churned. She stood, wanting to get out of the apartment quickly. But something pinned her to the ground, like the counteracting force of opposing gravities.
    Gerde loped back to the room and sat on the couch next to Sandra.
    "We're quite proud of our apartment," she said to Allison, who was still standing mesmerized. Gerde had an amazing ability to seize upon unfinished conversations and questions after an interruption and continue as if the line had been unbroken. "It took us a long time to furnish it properly. No expense spared."
    "That's the best way." Allison sat down on the ottoman, curiosity superseding her desire to run from the apartment.
    "You know," Gerde continued, "we found many of these pieces lying about in the strangest places. If one keeps their eyes open, one can find veritable treasures."
    Allison and Gerde began to drink their coffee, while Sandra slowly sipped at a steaming cup of tea. Her efforts were an accommodation. Her interest in the tea was minimal. The conversation, whatever there was, died. All three just stared at one another.
    Slowly, Sandra inched her way closer to Gerde and slid her hand down her side and into her roommate's. Allison fidgeted nervously with her cup, spilling much of the coffee into the saucer. Again the silence. She watched the sensual movement of Sandra's hand in Gerde's, the intertwining of the fingers and the pressing of the palms. Sandra's entire body experienced another euphoric relaxation; the distant look disappeared, the sallow expression brightened. Gerde remained impassive. Sandra reached orgasm again.
    "Do- What do you do for a living?" Allison was clutching.
    "Nothing," replied Gerde curtly.
    "You must do something to earn money."
    Gerde shook her head, looked at her entwined hand, glanced back up at Allison and tightened her grip, causing Sandra to wince in excitement.
    Allison, now visibly disturbed, still tried to avoid the impending confrontation. "Then you must get quite bored. What do you do to keep busy?" she asked.
    "We fondle each other."
    Allison stared, her mouth open.
    "Fondle! Caress!" Gerde was very direct, very curt and very piqued.
    Gerde leaned over and touched Sandra's breast, and Sandra's body responded with convulsive jerks.
    Allison shot to her feet. "I think I'd better be going," she blurted. "I have to put away all the groceries and then I have an appointment."
    "I think it's rather rude to eat and run," said Gerde.
    "First of all, I didn't eat, I drank," Allison blustered, flushing. "And how dare you call me rude! After this demonstration of sickness! Masturbation and lesbianism. Right in front of me! I've never seen anything like it."
    Gerde narrowed her eyes like a threatened cat. She slowly rose to her feet. "You little bitch," she mouthed deliberately.
    Allison rushed by her and began to gather her packages; the largest fell to the floor. She bent down to pick it up only to find Gerde's foot pressing it against the ground. She grabbed Gerde's leg and tried to move it off the bag. It wouldn't budge. She pulled out the package, upsetting the woman, sending her sprawling to the rug. Gerde struggled to her feet and grabbed Allison by the hair as she dropped her packages and grasped Gerde's wrist, digging in her nails. Gerde winced in pain and released her hold.
    Allison ran to the door, threw it open, and stumbled into the hall. When Gerde followed, Allison pressed against the rail and turned to defend herself.
    Suddenly Gerde stopped, her eyes turning to the third-floor staircase. Allison jerked her head in that direction. Charles Chazen stood at the base of the stairs stroking Jezebel. Mortimer hopped from shoulder to shoulder, chirping frantically. Gone was the pleasant smile. His shriveled face was impassive, the old eyes strangely dilated.
    Gerde trembled. Quickly, without looking at