people were here; the juke box was mellow and the dance floor was almost empty.
Anne looked at the couples. She could not distinguish in the darkness whether there were men there, or only women dressed as men and she supposed the crowd was mixed.
"Swell layout, hey?" Skippy said.
Anne agreed. "Terrific."
They found an empty sofa and sat in it, waiting for the waitress. When she came Skippy ordered scotch and beer. They sat back and relaxed.
"Cora'll be up later," she said. "She gives every new customer a grand welcome."
"That's nice," Anne said. "I like Cora."
"Ain't she swell?" Skippy sat up eagerly. Anne wondered if Skippy had a girlish crush on her.
The juke box began to play an old favorite and Skippy stopped to listen to it, twisting with the melody. "Dance?" she said finally.
Anne hesitated. She wanted very much to dance, and yet she did not. It would be the same as at the Oval and she was afraid. Skippy sensed her reluctance and pulled her up gently.
"A yard away," she said.
Anne followed and they danced apart until they both laughed at themselves and Anne pressed closely to her. It was a good feeling. A warmth grew in the pit of Anne's stomach. Skippy's breasts were pressed to hers and their thighs touched. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to Skippy's and remembered Beth. Then the music stopped and Skippy slowly let her go.
"Wow!" she said. "We'd better take it easy."
Anne nodded and followed her back to the sofa. Cora was there.
"Hi! Swell, isn't it?" she said.
"Lovely," Anne said.
"Skippy, go bring more drinks, will you?" Cora said. "I drank that one up."
"Sure thing," she saluted. "Be right back."
Anne was left alone with Cora and in the quiet atmosphere she did not seem so terrible. She even seemed a little old and tired and quite human.
"Where else have you been? The Oval? Paradise?"
Anne nodded. As yet she had not been able to say one syllable to Cora.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked roughly.
"Trying to meet women," Anne said. She returned Cora's rough glance with amused defiance.
"Skippy's not your type," Cora said. "Don't mess her up."
"Why not?" Cora's tone had been very much like Dad's. Anne resented being told.
"She's a good kid," Cora said. Her tone was quiet and friendly now. "She goes overboard too easy."
"Why should it concern you?"
"She's a good bartender." Cora tried to seem cold but that was a poor try. "I don't want her on another drunk, hear?" She stopped for a moment, became personal. "You don't belong here. You're out for kicks. Pick on someone your size."
"What do you mean?" Anne was puzzled.
"I mean you're not queer," Cora said bluntly. "You're just a crazy mixed-up kid still in love with Mother."
"You think I'll get over it?" Anne's tone was sarcastic now. Cora must think her quite young: a virgin afraid to sleep with men and choosing masculine women instead—like some of the girls at the Oval.
"You know," Cora went on, "a girl could get in a lot of trouble talking to strangers and going to rough places. She could be inviting the undertaker. She can expect to be robbed, roughed up. Your parents know where you go?"
Anne laughed. "I left home some time ago."
"Why?"
Anne paused; she couldn't easily say why. "For one thing, I didn't like being bossed," she decided.
Cora ignored this and sighed. "I'd like you to meet my son sometime," she said. "He's just about your age."
Somehow Anne had known that Cora was a mother. It might be what made her beautiful despite her coarseness and her occupation. She wondered how Cora had become a mother and decided it had been an early mistake—like Mark had been for her.
"I guess I'd better go home," Anne said.
"Do that," she said, "and don't come back for a while—not till I find a new girl for Skippy." She rose now and punched her shoulder lightly. "Thanks."
Anne smiled and gave a slight salute. "Don't mention it, Mom." Cora laughed and walked away.
Skippy had came up with the drinks and stood
Anne looked at the couples. She could not distinguish in the darkness whether there were men there, or only women dressed as men and she supposed the crowd was mixed.
"Swell layout, hey?" Skippy said.
Anne agreed. "Terrific."
They found an empty sofa and sat in it, waiting for the waitress. When she came Skippy ordered scotch and beer. They sat back and relaxed.
"Cora'll be up later," she said. "She gives every new customer a grand welcome."
"That's nice," Anne said. "I like Cora."
"Ain't she swell?" Skippy sat up eagerly. Anne wondered if Skippy had a girlish crush on her.
The juke box began to play an old favorite and Skippy stopped to listen to it, twisting with the melody. "Dance?" she said finally.
Anne hesitated. She wanted very much to dance, and yet she did not. It would be the same as at the Oval and she was afraid. Skippy sensed her reluctance and pulled her up gently.
"A yard away," she said.
Anne followed and they danced apart until they both laughed at themselves and Anne pressed closely to her. It was a good feeling. A warmth grew in the pit of Anne's stomach. Skippy's breasts were pressed to hers and their thighs touched. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to Skippy's and remembered Beth. Then the music stopped and Skippy slowly let her go.
"Wow!" she said. "We'd better take it easy."
Anne nodded and followed her back to the sofa. Cora was there.
"Hi! Swell, isn't it?" she said.
"Lovely," Anne said.
"Skippy, go bring more drinks, will you?" Cora said. "I drank that one up."
"Sure thing," she saluted. "Be right back."
Anne was left alone with Cora and in the quiet atmosphere she did not seem so terrible. She even seemed a little old and tired and quite human.
"Where else have you been? The Oval? Paradise?"
Anne nodded. As yet she had not been able to say one syllable to Cora.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked roughly.
"Trying to meet women," Anne said. She returned Cora's rough glance with amused defiance.
"Skippy's not your type," Cora said. "Don't mess her up."
"Why not?" Cora's tone had been very much like Dad's. Anne resented being told.
"She's a good kid," Cora said. Her tone was quiet and friendly now. "She goes overboard too easy."
"Why should it concern you?"
"She's a good bartender." Cora tried to seem cold but that was a poor try. "I don't want her on another drunk, hear?" She stopped for a moment, became personal. "You don't belong here. You're out for kicks. Pick on someone your size."
"What do you mean?" Anne was puzzled.
"I mean you're not queer," Cora said bluntly. "You're just a crazy mixed-up kid still in love with Mother."
"You think I'll get over it?" Anne's tone was sarcastic now. Cora must think her quite young: a virgin afraid to sleep with men and choosing masculine women instead—like some of the girls at the Oval.
"You know," Cora went on, "a girl could get in a lot of trouble talking to strangers and going to rough places. She could be inviting the undertaker. She can expect to be robbed, roughed up. Your parents know where you go?"
Anne laughed. "I left home some time ago."
"Why?"
Anne paused; she couldn't easily say why. "For one thing, I didn't like being bossed," she decided.
Cora ignored this and sighed. "I'd like you to meet my son sometime," she said. "He's just about your age."
Somehow Anne had known that Cora was a mother. It might be what made her beautiful despite her coarseness and her occupation. She wondered how Cora had become a mother and decided it had been an early mistake—like Mark had been for her.
"I guess I'd better go home," Anne said.
"Do that," she said, "and don't come back for a while—not till I find a new girl for Skippy." She rose now and punched her shoulder lightly. "Thanks."
Anne smiled and gave a slight salute. "Don't mention it, Mom." Cora laughed and walked away.
Skippy had came up with the drinks and stood
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