Decks Dark by Radiohead plays.
The relationship you invented with Jack and me is impossible. It’s psychologically impossible. But not because Jack was straight. It’s impossible because I was straight and it’s completely obvious the more you step back and look at what’s actually there.
What was real?
The following.
(Adult content below)
“No. I can’t stand this.
You’ll have to be Lane Pryce. Because I can’t be with you.” says Lacey. “Not right now. Not like this. I can’t stand it. It’s too painful.”
“Fine!” says Lem.
“Jack never defiled Lane’s soul.” says Lacey.
Lem thinks.
“Jack never defiled Lane’s…meaning as a man.” says Lacey.
“Fine!” says Lem.
“I love you. But I’m so sick and tired of psychic jealous bitches insisting I’m the reincarnation of a worthless, slightly hideous looking, idiotic man.” says Lacey. “And I’m not even sure I’d want the love you supposedly had for him. What was that love? …It doesn’t seem like love. It seems more like…a psychotic fixation.” She thinks. “Love is real. Love is powerful. It isn’t about destroying someone else’s soul, as Jack meant to destroy mine. That’s such bullshit. …Because what!? Nothing about your love for him was without the hidden intent to destroy me. That’s ALL it ever is. You two had no depth. Jack was a fucking worthless prick. …You had almost no value to him. So…even if you had moments of bliss…it was all meaningless if it didn’t deeply hurt me.”
“My entire relationship with Lem was one obsession with hurting you?” asks JFK.
“Yes. You had no other deeper meaning. You never took care of Lem like a real husband. You treated him like shit. So…it’s all fake…or you two were both just psychopathically obsessed with hurting me.” says Lacey.
“Even if I was…it still counts!!” yells JFK, self-righteously.
And at the Jerry Seinfeld loses a part of his audience at Duke. In supernaturally orchestrated protest against the Kennedy Spin Machine.
“It can’t count.” says Israel. “Jack that makes no sense.”
“FUCK YOU!!” yells JFK at Israel. He’s mildly scared of them. But they made him angry with that simply stated truth.
It’s 1963. In Seattle. Lane is likely Lem.
“Why is Sterling Cooper trying to expand to Seattle?” asks Lacey. She’s his secretary.
They sit in the restaurant at the Space Needle. Looking out at the Puget Sound and downtown Seattle.
“Because they have a beef with London. The idea is to expand to Canada, eventually. It’s SCDP, you know.” says Lane.
Lacey stares down at her drink on the table. Plays with it. “Why did you agree to help them?” she asks.
“I wanted the money.” says Lane, looking off and out of the window behind her.
“And the prestige?” says Lacey.
“Yes!” he says.
“Where did you go to school?” she asks.
He looks her square in the eye. Thinks. Taps her hand. Grabs it.
“Why would you need to know?” he asks.
She looks into his face.
He slightly smiles.
“I could be trying to snub you.” she says, not moving her hand.
He looks sad. Thinks.
“No. You’re far too interested in me for that.” he says.
“Am I?” asks Lacey.
“Yes! You’ve been asking me personal questions all night.” he says.
“What if I’m just trying to psychoanalyze you?” asks Lacey.
He laughs. Shakes his head no.
“Anyway, it’s alright. I quite like you too.” says Lane.
“Do you have mistresses?” asks Lacey.
“No.” he says with some sadness.
Suddenly overcome, Lacey stands-up and downs her drink. “I’m in love with you.” she says. Then she grabs her bag. “I’m going back to the hotel.” she says.
“Hold on!” he says.
She waits.
“You haven’t finished your dessert.” he says.
She thinks. “It’s getting too sad. To stay.”
“Have another drink.” he says.
Ful Stop by Radiohead plays.
“I’m not having whisky. Whisky scares me. …But I’ll have…another g & t.” says Lacey.
“You barely ever drink any other drink.” says Lane.
“That’s true.” she says. “It’s nice to think you’ve noticed me.”
And at that she runs the pretty toes of her right leg up his leg, lightly. Under the table.
“What are we doing?” he says.
“Sitting at a table.” says Lacey.
He laughs.
“No. Do you love me?” he asks.
“Why are you making me repeat myself?” she asks.
“You wouldn’t understand!” he says, finishing his drink.
“Understand what!?” says Lacey.
“You’re extremely beautiful.” he says, resting his arm on the table.
“So are you in a way.” says Lacey.
He thinks. “Inside?”
“Yes.” says Lacey.
“I see what you mean. Thank you.” he says.
She drinks her g&t.
“When we lock eyes tonight, while I make you cum…you best be at least somewhat sober.” he says.
“I’m not drunk.” she says.
“No. But that’s enough. You’re looking…a little…well…drunk.” he says.
“How can you tell it’s affecting me?” asks Lacey. “Most people can’t. Including me at times, possibly.”
He looks into her eyes. “Your eyes.”
“Oh. I’m not that drunk.” she says.
“Yeah.” he says.
She thinks. “The ocean is sad.”
“Why?” he asks.
“It’s so cold…and lonely.” she says. “Without you.”
“The ocean is cold. Because that’s the way God made it.” says Lane.
“But it’s lonely.” says Lacey.
“Then God will have to fix that.” says Lem.
She stands-up again. “I’m leaving. At least there are fish in ocean. …And you’re obnoxious!”
She grabs her bag.
“I’m going back to the hotel.” she says.
Then she turns to leave.
Starts walking away.
“Wait!” he says.
She pauses again.
He puts money on the table and then goes to meet her.
He grabs her hand. Leads her to the bathroom. Locks the door.
Takes off her clothes. Pushes her up against a wall and lifts her up as he begins furiously fucking her.
They lose themselves to each other.
He finishes. Orgasms.
They stand, and he catches his breath.
She waits. He laughs. Smiles.
“Let’s do this all night.”
Keen to Cross the Pond 