Ларри Макмертри - The Last Picture Show

"Uh, this here's Jackie Lee French," Abilene said. "Jackie Lee, this is Lois Farrow, my boss's wife."

"Hello, Jackie," Lois said.

"I don't have to talk to her," Jackie Lee said, turning angrily to Abilene. "I think she's just awful. What do you mean kissin' her like that, I'm embarrassed to death. I ought to slap her face."

"You can't even reach it, honey," Lois said, smiling at her. "Is your name really French or is that just something you like to do?"

Jackie Lee was absolutely stunned. Her mouth fell open. Nobody had ever talked like that to her before—she was the star barmaid in the tavern where she worked, and all the cowboys and airmen treated her very much like a lady.

Abilene made an amused face and took Jackie Lee by the elbow. "I never come here to referee no fight," he said, moving toward the dance floor. Jackie.Lee went with him, holding her butt in indignantly.

Lois snorted in amusement. "I know what I did wrong," she said. "You're supposed to have mistletoe." When she noticed Jacy she snorted again and went into the coatroom. She had a flask of bourbon in her coat pocket and took a neat nip, fishing in her purse for some Kleenex. The dancing had made her sweaty.

"My goodness, Mother," Jacy said, "you oughtn't to behave like that. What would Daddy say if he saw you?"

"Nothing," Lois replied. She took another nip and put the cap'back on the flask. "He wouldn't say a damn thing and there's no reason he should. Kissing one another at Christmas time is a custom among civilized peoples. Besides, why are you lecturing me? What have you been doing back in that dark corner for the last hour, telling secrets?"

Jacy was taken aback. For a moment she couldn't think how to reply. "I was just coming to ask you something," she said finally. "Lester wants me to go with him to a swimming party in Wichita Falls. Is it okay if I go?"

"Sure," Lois said. "Have a good time. And let's you and me just leave one another alone so far as men are concerned, okay? We compete about enough things as it is."

After Lois went back to the dance floor Jacy decided her feelings were hurt and stayed in the coatroom, sniffling a little. It seemed to her her mother had no sense of responsibility at all, and it was very confusing. Then she grew angry, jerked the bourbon flask out of her mother's coat and took a tiny sip of whiskey in defiance. Like mother, like daughter, people would say if they saw her. She put the flask back and hurried in to Duane before the tears could dry on her cheeks. "Oh I'm just sick," she said. "Mother says I have to go to a swimming party with Lester. I can't get out of it now. It's all her fault and I could just kill her."

Ten minutes later she and Duane were in the front seat of the pickup, kissing. The pickup was parked in a darker place than the convertible. Duane had been furious and it had taken all Jacy's coaxing to get him out of the Legion Hall without some kind of scene taking place. Even when they got to the pickup he kept wanting to go back in and drag Lester out and fight him. Jacy quickly saw that she would have to go to desperate lengths to keep him with her. She sprawled across his lap, kissing him, and she didn't bother to cross her legs and trap his arms with her own, like she usually did. He could dimly make out her white, half-exposed legs in the dark cab. When he touched her lightly above the knee she didn't stop him. Wildly encouraged, he at once forgot Lester and leapt to the attack: he put his hand right on the warm slick band of silk that passed between her legs. She still didn't stop him! It was a miracle of generosity!

Jacy thought so too. She had never left herself quite so wide open before and she hoped Duane appreciated it. After a few nervous minutes of tracing his fingers delicately along the edges of her panties he got up enough nerve to slip his hand inside a leghole and touch the real place, which was surprisingly slippery. He had not really expected to arrive at that destination that evening and he was not quite sure what to do next. Jacy gave no clues. She quit kissing him and pressed her face tightly against his neck, not exactly sure if she liked what was happening or not. She was determined to go on with it a few minutes, though: it would never do to go to a naked swimming party in total ignorance of such matters. Once in a while Duane hit on the right spot and she couldn't help gasping and squirming a little, but most of the time he seemed to be fumbling around in a rather pointless way and that made her impatient. She went a little out of it for a few minutes, waiting for Duane to hit the right spot and quivering with pleasure when he did. It was not until he took his hand away and tried to lay her down on the seat that she realized she had pacified him quite enough. He was actually trying to get on top of her! It was terrible of him to try such a thing when her head wasn't completely clear-it was hard enough for her to finish the evening in the proper tone without him doing that.

"No, no Duane, I've got to go," she said. "Lester will be coming any minute."

She struggled up, gave Duane a quick kiss to show she wasn't mad at him, and then got herself out of the pickup and into Lester's Oldsmobile. She wanted a minute or two to calm down before Lester came out-the dancing and the courting had left her wet with sweat, and she wasn't even sure but what she smelled.

To her great annoyance, Duane got out of the pickup, his hair all tousled, and stood right on the porch of the Legion Hall, obviously waiting for Lester. After all she had given him, it was infuriating! When Lester came out he bumped right into Duane and Duane grabbed him. They had words, that was clear, but Lester managed to shake loose and came on to the Olds. The sleeve of his sports coat was torn.

"What'd he say?" Jacy asked.

"God he's mad," Lester said, panting. He was visibly scared, but he did his best to make light of it. "He called me names, hoping I'd hit him."

"Oh, he's so silly," Jacy said. "I don't know what I'm going to do about him. He's just so crazy about me he doesn't have good sense."

"I'm not saying anything against Duane, but that's a roughneck for you," Lester said. "They never are very sophisticated about these things:"

The farther he got from the scene the easier it was for Lester to believe he would have come out well in a fight with Duane. His emotions became mixed, and so did Jacy's. It occurred to her belatedly that it wouldn't have been so bad if Lester and Duane had fought over her. At the very least it would have taken a few people's minds off her mother.

They rode to Wichita in silence, each of them thinking out the kind of fight scene they wished had taken place. Lester imagined that he had fought to a standstill, contemptuous of pain, while Jacy saw it differently: Lester would win by dishonorable means, like kicking Duane in the groin, and she would weep on the sidelines. Then she would go and comfort Duane and drive away with him, contemptuous alike of money and parental displeasure, content to be ruined for love.

It seemed a pity to her that Lester hadn't had the guts to start the fight.

The Sheen home, where the party took place, was a two-story, twenty-room mansion near the Wichita Falls country club. When they drove up several sports cars were parked in the long curved drive.

"This may be the wildest thing yet,." Lester said, smiling at Jacy a little nervously.

No one answered the doorbell, so they went on in. Lights were on and there were girls' coats and boys' coats and glasses and liquor bottles all around, but no people. A Dave Brubeck album was lying next to the phonograph.

Once they opened the basement area it was obvious from the yelling and splashing where everyone was.

"Yep, they're naked," Lester said when they arrived downstairs. He left Jacy in the ping-pong room a minute and peeked into the pool. She found the prospect of walking into a room full of naked city kids somewhat frightening, but she determined to do it and look delighted, whatever she might feel. She let Lester hold her hand when they walked in, and that was something she didn't permit very often.