Body of Influence

I know you're going to think that I'm exaggerating,

but I swear to you, if a man is a good kisser,

he can bring me to the brink of an orgasm

without even touching me anywhere else.

Someone was following me.

I couldn't see him, but I heard his soft footsteps

on the pavement.

I knew there was an all-night diner nearby,

and I sought refuge there.

He came in after me.

He was a total stranger, but--

but he approached me and-- and said,

I'm dying to do certain things to you.

We were in bed and we'd just finished making love,

and I asked him why all we do is sleep and make love,

nothing else?

His response was, what else is there?

I told him that for once I'd like

to have a serious conversation about us.

I should have been horrified, but, strangely, I--

I wasn't.

I tell him I'm not afraid of him and he

better do exactly as I say.

He agrees.

I start by telling him to kiss me ever so gently.

Then I tell him to lick me there.

In practically no time, orgasms start running through me like--

like little earthquakes, till I'm wet and exhausted.

Sleeping and screwing.

That's all we do.

Finally, Brian says he'll listen.

So I start talking about us, about our relationship,

and I ask him if we're together because we love each other.

You know what his response was?

Is this conversation a conspiracy on your part

to make me impotent?

You know why I think David doesn't like to kiss?

Because he's afraid.

I remember once that he told me that he always feels

this fear before we make love.

It's almost like to David, I'm this dark void

that he can't enter into without a part of him

being permanently changed or--

sex is a very dark power.

You know, I came out here to be an actress.

Christ knows, I've still got the looks.

You probably think these boobs are fake, my living

in Beverly Hills and all.

Well, they're not.

Want to see?

All the women in my family have them.

But, personally, I think my legs are my best feature.

Don't you, Doctor?

Someone once defined a psychiatrist

as a guy who goes to a strip show and looks at the audience.

They're silky smooth too.

JONATHAN For the first 35 years

of my life that described me, Dr. Jonathan Brooks.

I have them waxed every month.

Here, feel.

JONATHAN My practice

was located in Beverly Hills.

Not bad, huh?

Yes, they're very smooth.

And lately, my clientele seemed to consist

exclusively of the frustrated wives of high-powered men.

Don't you think we've done enough acting

out for one day, Margaret?

In medical school, they teach you to detach.

I know you want me, Dr. Brooks,

or you wouldn't have let me get this far.

I just want you to act it all out.

It's part of the healing process.

And I have always known the value of that lesson.

Get rid of those thoughts.

I know you want to kiss me, but you're holding back.

I'll never understand how you keep your cool, Dr. Brooks.

That's why I record these sessions, to have

a record of what transpired.

See, when a woman like Margaret is rebuffed,

they often accuse the doctor of sexual misconduct.

No one would ever accuse you of that.

You're the most civilized man I know.

Thank you, Helen.

- Good night. - Good night.

- Don't work too late. - I won't.

That attitude, of course, isn't without its benefits.

In my case, a thriving practice and a beautiful and successful

lawyer as my fiancee.

Well, that's what I want, low risk security.

Leave the gambling to the Donald Trumps of the world.

OK, I will.

You too.

Your appointment's here.

Oh, who is it?

It's a new patient.

Laura Nesbitt.

Thank you, Helen.

The first time I saw her, she was sitting in my chair.

You know, there was a running joke in medical school

that anyone that wanted to be a psychiatrist

ought to have his head examined.

Excuse me?

Nothing.

It's just that you're sitting in my chair.

Oh.

I'm sorry.

I didn't realize.

It's quite all right.

I just think you'll be more comfortable on the couch.

I videotape these sessions.

I find it a very useful therapeutic tool.

So, now, what would you like to talk about?

Forgive me.

This is very difficult.

I understand.

I don't know what the trouble is, Dr. Brooks.

I mean, I go to sleep and then--

And then?

And then the horrors begin.

Now, when you say horrors, do you mean nightmares?

I don't know what they are.

Well, what do you remember about them?

I remember waking up, only I'm not in my bed.

Where are you?

I'm in a hotel, the kind I would never go to.

What do you mean the kind you'd never go to?

The kind for adults.

I see.

And there's something else.

When I wake up, I'm not me.

I'm wearing someone else's clothes.

Whose clothes?

No, you don't understand.

It's not that they're not my clothes.

They're clothes I would never wear.

They make me look like--

Like what?

Like a whore.

You see, in my dreams, I'm no stranger to love.

That's how I earned my living, fulfilling the desires of men.

Men of all varieties.

Only I don't charge him.

Why don't you charge him?

It would be wrong.

He is giving me as much pleasure as I'm giving him.

He knows all my secret places.

He knows what I need.

He's slowly driving me mad.

I'm no longer kissing or caressing, only clinging.

I want him to come inside me, but he won't.

So I surrender my body to him.

I let his rhythm become mine.

You think I'm a terrible person, don't you?

Of course not.

You don't?

No.

In my dreams, I'm no stranger to love.

That's how I make my living, fulfilling the desires of men.

Men of all varieties.

Come to me, I say to him.

But I don't charge him.

Why don't you charge him?

It would be wrong.

He's giving me as much pleasure as I'm giving him.

He knows my secret places.

He knows exactly what I need.

Who's the looker?

Jesus, Harry, would you put that down?

No choice.

To serve and protect, that's our motto.

I was no longer kissing or caressing.

I just served you notice that you need better protection.

Who is she?

I wanted him to come inside me, but he wouldn't.

A new patient.

So I surrendered my body to him.

Oh, yeah, quite a work of art.

Isn't she?

She's got so much sexual repression going on,

she actually believes her nightmares are real.

I've got a flash for you, Doc.

She ain't the only one sexually repressed.

Quite a work of art, like on the hubba, hubba scale.

Sometimes, Police Detective Sigmund Freud, a cigar

is just a cigar.

My interest is strictly clinical.

Yeah, I guess this is the point where I'm supposed to say,

since when do you carry cigars in your pants?

Buddump bump.

Can I get you a drink?

Yeah, you know where it is.

I guess you heard about victim number five.

Yeah.

Is that connected to the other murders?

Oh, yeah.

Same maniac, no bout adout it.

Beautiful girl found, spread legs, sexually posed,

evidence of sexual violation.

Any clue as to who might have done it?