Free How Long Has This Been Going On by Ethan Mordden

way."
    Lois was just looking at him. Funny, the stuff you find out about people when they're ready to spill it.
    "That's why my surname is Young, you know. Half the kids are named Smith and the other half Young."
    "Any reason?"
    "They're kind of like Mormon Number One and Mormon Number Two."
    "Lois," said one of the bartenders as he passed, gesturing toward the bar. "Someone to see you."
    Lois turned to look; it was Elaine. Lois blinked at her, and Elaine came forward, smiling.
    "I had a free evening," Elaine began. "And I thought, Well, I believe I'll just make my way over to the Thriller Jill club and see what the world of Lois is like."
    Lois got up, stunned, thinking this new thing over.
    "Not in your wildest dreams?" asked Elaine.
    "Sit," Lois replied. "What'll you drink?"
    "I'll drink with you," said Elaine, settling in. "Whatever you're—"
    "This is Larken Young. Elaine..."
    "Denslow."
    "Last names don't matter," said Larken, shaking Elaine's hand. "It's all Betty and Bob around here."
    "Yeah? Where's Betty?" said Lois, holding three fingers up to the bartender.
    "You are surprised, aren't you?" Elaine asked, as Lois turned back to join them.
    "Nothing surprises me," said Lois, knowing that she was glad about this yet feeling a bit encircled.
    "What would surprise you?"
    "I'll tell you someday," and the lights were going down and Johnny the Kid came out to a nice hand and the bartender dropped off three beers and Lois was off on a private tour of her life to that point.
    Describe yourself.
    Twenty-nine, dark blond sort of wavy hair—at least, I call it wavy; the kind that, like, half of it hangs there and the other half is always going doing ?—and a nice figure. What do I mean nice ? I call it slim, with good breasts—round, solid, just this side of big, with sharp, dark buttons that get really out there when I'm onto something. Pleasing skin tone. I bite my nails and I walk tough.
    What do you hope for?
    Survival, independence, and no shit from men, especially cops and touchers.
    What else?
    Nothing else.
    Be honest, Lois.
    A friend.
    What kind?
    Close friend.
    Close how? Close who would it be?
    Close like how, I could talk to her and she can get me all the way home. Like, we could construct a world and move into it, just us. A smooth world, very smooth and knowing. Separate from everyone else. A refuge, like. Close like who, that's anyone's guess.
    Elaine?
    The lights came up as Johnny the Kid gave Desmond his bow and they walked off together. The applause was strong.
    "It's getting better and better," said Larken. "It really is, Lois. Whose idea was it to put in that old Fanny Brice number?"
    Lois shrugged. Songs.
    "You know what I really liked?" said Elaine. "'So in Love.' I know it from the radio, but it's amazing to hear someone so youthful perform love songs, isn't it? He looks so sweet and yet so... knowing...."
    "That's his charm," said Larken. "His act is the precocious kid playing the sophisticate."
    Elaine raised her beer with "Here's to Thriller Jill's," and Larken touched his beer to hers, and they looked at Lois.
    "I hate that fancy stuff," she said. "But hell," and she hit their glasses so hard she nearly broke them.
    "'Cooking Breakfast for the One I Love,'" Larken mused. "It's an ironic statement in a place like this. Because everyone..." He stopped, mindful of what Elaine might represent to Lois, and how little she might know about the place.
    "Talk free," Lois told him.
    "Well. Here, it's all quick dates. Thirty minutes or so. It would take you longer to bring your partner home than to have the sex. But that song is about... well, housekeeping. And all that preamble about a Contessa picking up a sailor just—"
    "It was dumb," said Lois.
    "No. No, Lois. It was more irony. It's the Kid's analysis of what's on every mind in the room. It's the ultimate queen picking up the ultimate trade. Passion. Then the Kid goes into the music. Deflation. I think it's neat."
    Elaine caught Lois's eye and said, a