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Carla Davis had just taken a shower and now stood in a white terrycloth bathrobe at the window looking down at the people and traffic on the hot avenue five stories below.  Sandy Johnson sat on one of the two beds.  These young women were roommates on the campus of the University of Pittsburgh.  Sandy was fully dressed.

“Did you kiss him?” Sandy asked.  She seemed upset.

“It was a date,” Carla said.

“But did you kiss him?” Sandy asked.

“Sandy, please.”

Sandy sat on the bed, her eyes never leaving Carla.  Carla stood looking through the open blinds down at the avenue.

The radio on one of the writing desk was on low.  A song by No Doubt was playing.  The song had a hard driving beat.

Carla said, “I mean even if I did kiss him it didn’t mean anything.”

“How can you say that?”

“Well, it didn’t.”

The two young women were silent.  Then Sandy said, “Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“You kissed him.  I know you kissed him.  Prove that it didn’t mean anything.”

For the first time, Carla looked around.  The song by No Doubt was nearing its climax.  Carla stood at the window looking back over her shoulder at Sandy.  The air conditioning was on but the heat of the sun came through the glass of the window pane.

Carla twisted the hanging handle and the blinds went shut.  She walked over to stand in front of Sandy who still sat on the bed.  Carla stood looking down at Sandy.  Carla undid the belt of the white robe, opened the robe, pulled it down off her shoulders to let it fall in a heap at her bare feet.  She stood nude in front of Sandy.

Sandy looked up at Carla.  Sandy put her hands on Carla’s thighs.  Then she pulled Carla to her.  By the time the No Doubt song ended, Carla was softly moaning.