House of Whipcord

- Monsieur... - Huh?

Aidez-moi.

Aidez-moi.

Christ. Hang on, love.

All right, darling, come on. I've got you. Come on, round the other side.

We can't stand about in this. Soon have you in the dry.

Hang on. Here we go.

Ah, that's it.

There you are.

What happened, then, love? Some bloke, was it?

Hmm? Come on, you can tell me.

Back there, he give you a lift or something, did he?

Shouldn't do it, you know, love. Not out here in the wilds.

Please...I'm coId.

I'm not surprised.

Look at that dress you're wearing, eh?

What is it you've got on? Looks like a bloody bit of sacking or something.

You been to a fancy dress ball?

Bloody hell.

Who did that to you, love?

He deserves to swing for that, whoever he was.

Don't you worry. He won't get away with it.

I'm gonna drive you to London.

Don't you worry, you're going straight to the law.

Some of these blokes, makes you wonder how their minds work. Gives you the creeps.

- Where...where is he? - What, love?

He will come. So funny...

M...E...D.

I will not...l will not run away.

Why don't you take it easy, love?

You're all right with me. Why not try and have a sleep, eh?

Mmm! Oh, no, it goes to my head!

- Ann-Marie, come and look. - What is it?

- What are they doing? - We're about to unveil you.

Let's have a look.

- The action still of the year. - What have they cooked up?

- Where did you get it? - Jo got it from the Evening Standard Press office.

I love that expression.

Priceless, isn't it?

Priceless. And look at these two old dears.

- Isn't that you behind the car? - Yeah. We'd just finished the session.

Didn't you see it in the papers? None of them mentioned the product.

They're getting smart.

Sorry, they fined us. Me and Ann-Marie, £10 each.

What for?

Behaviour likely to use a breach of the peace. What a charade.

The clients liked the pictures, though.

Yeah, but she was great, she really looked fantastic.

- Where's she gone? - I don't know.

Ann-Marie. Have a drink - your flatmate's drinking you under the table.

Leave her, Ted, I think she's embarrassed.

What about? Not this, surely.

She's a bit touchy about her parents finding out. We ought to stop teasing her.

- I don't blame you. - I'm sorry?

Oh. It's all right if they are amused.

It all seems a bit childish to me. And rather tasteless.

Though I wouldn't say that to anyone else.

- May l get you a drink? - No, thank you. I have enough.

Come and sit down. Tell me who you are.

- Ted. - Yeah?

- Who's that? - Who's what, my love?

I'm getting a bit bleary-eyed.

That dish chatting up Ann-Marie.

God knows. Something Jo picked up.

What? - He walked in the office just before it closed...

...and offered our lovely lady an idea for a feature.

She took a fancy to him and invited him to stay. Not like her, is it?

- Hmm. He must have a fatal charm. - Or something.

Yes, well, we'd better find you a little friend of your own, my darling.

Come and meet some of my eligible fellow slaves. See if we can sober 'em up.

Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the lovely Julia King.

There's an article on 12th-century ceramics...

...and an Ezra Pound poem between a huge Negress in chains and Warhol on the loo.

- What are you reading? - Escort.

Ted thrust it into my hands when I left the party,

said I ought to gen up on men's tastes.

I don't think they know about the men's tastes.

That's the secret - they don't.

They just tell them what they think they ought to have a taste for. And the poor suckers believe them.

- Talking of escorts… when's yours arriving? - I am to meet him. I must hurry.

- The one that chatted you up at the party? - Chatted me up? Yes.

- He's a fast worker. - Mmm...

- He is charming. He is different. You know. - I see.

- May I borrow your mirror? Mine's broken. - Go ahead.

- Hey, you're still wet. - Am I?

He's a writer, isn't he?

- Is he? - Didn't he say?

He said so little. We talked about me.

- What's his name? - Mark. Er, Mark Desade.

And when am I going to meet him?

Julia! You have Tony.

Yes, I have Tony. He'd better remember to bring wine.

He will not take you out tonight?

We thought we'd eat in for a change.

You should get him to take you somewhere nice to eat.

- What, with the whole place to ourselves? - Oh, I see.

Madame asked me to me down and show a dress to a client.

I think I look nice in the dress and Madame let me model a little.

Then I go to Panama for a few months...

...then I meet Julia, who say I should go to work for her boss in London.

So I go to London where I do much photographic work.

And that is my life.

- Why are you so nervous? - Nervous?

I? What do you mean?

Something in your voice, your eyes I think you're afraid of me.

Oh, but no. I am a little...excited, that is all.

Why should I be afraid?

Why not? You are alone with a man who you don't know.

And we all fear the unknown. It's natural.

But I do know you. And I like you.

Why, even at the party, you were the only one...

...who really understand. This is true, Mark.

Let me show you something.

- Comment? - A little experiment to prove what I say.

You'll find it interesting. Just close your eyes.

- Ohhh... - No, come on, close your eyes.

But promise to keep them closed all the time.

OK.

- Are they closed? - Oui, Monsieur.

Good. Now I want you to imagine something.

Can you remember the way the table is laid out?

Do you remember the knives by the plates?

The steak knives with the serrated edges?

Do you know serrated?

A dozen razor-sharp little notches on each blade.

What sharpness.

They go through steak just like...

...that.

Now I'm picking one up...

and I'm looking at it.

I daren't even touch it with my finger...

...because the slightest pressure...

...would make a cut.

I'm going to bring the knife closer to you.

I'm reaching out across the table...

...and I'm holding the knife very close to your face.

The blade has the finest, thinnest...

...cutting edge imaginable.

It's almost touching your face.

If you were to move your face just one eighth of an inch...

...it would slice through your cheek just like...

Only an ice cube.

- But I felt… I felt... - What?

- The blood. - You thought I would cut your face.

But anybody would, mm.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it.

It was only a joke.

- Will you forgive me? - I was so frightened.

It's only a joke.

- Where do these go? - In that drawer.

There's all these saucepans yet. Leave it.

- No. - Let's leave it.

- Why? - Because I want to...

"To get back to my wife.”

Oh, that was nasty. I'm sorry.

Let's get on with it before Froggy gets home.

She won't be back yet. She's got a big yearning for that writer.

- Who's he? - Some dishy number from the Escort party.

- Hey, what's this? - What's what?

- It's a fuse! - Tony.

I can't fix it, I'm useless with my hands.

You're kidding.

- You'll have to pay for that. - But not for this.

Thank you.

What for? The kiss or the dinner?

Both. Everything.

It has been so wonderful.

I have enjoyed it so much.

What an unusual ring.

Let me see. What does it say?

M...E...D.

Mark E. Desade.

Mark E. Desade.

- What's the matter? - Oh...

It just sounds a little like something else.

Mark E. Desade - the Marquis de Sade.

You know.

No. Who is he?

Nobody. You coming in?

Won't we disturb your flatmate?

No. She has her room and I have mine.

No. Not tonight.

I must do some writing.

But...won't I see you again?

- This weekend, if you're free. - Oh! Yes, please!

I'd like to take you to visit my parents, meet my mother.

Oh, Marky, you are so funny.

And so old-fashioned!

I thought you didn't like me.

- I'm sorry. - No, it is nice.

I would like to meet your mother...

...but perhaps she wouldn't like me.

You're French.

She likes the French? Then we shall be very happy.

We could drive down on Friday.

It is a long way, no?

Quite. It's a date, then?

Yes, it's a date, 'Marquis de Sade'!

- Where are you off to? - Oh, Julia,

the photographer made me work an extra hour and I am late.