Black & White & Sex Page #3

they are, but sometimes...

You've just got to...

read between the lines...

dig a bit deeper.

- Like a therapist?

- I'm not a therapist.

No,

but you have to be like one.

I'm not there to cure

anybody of anything.

Some of them

might be a bit weird,

but there's nothing wrong

with them.

If a guy comes in

and asks for sex,

I've got to work out,

does he want an orgasm or company,

or... or flattery, or human touch,

or a finger up the ass?

It's very confusing being a guy.

You walk around

with that thing in your pants,

controlling how you feel,

and you don't know

what to do about it.

And what about the consequences?

- What consequences?

- Well, like diseases.

You never heard of safe sex?

Relationships, then.

- Mine or theirs?

- Theirs.

Safe sex.

No, I didn't mean physical...

I meant emotional.

Oh, so did I. Safe sex.

Sex with rules.

Sex with boundaries.

Time limits.

They come and see me

and blow out some steam

and then they go home

and play happy families.

It's a win-win.

The wives should love us.

- They don't, but they should.

- Do you get envious?

- Of what?

- Of their family lives.

If family life was so good,

I'd be broke, and I'm not.

I have an apartment in town

and an investment property

up the coast.

Business is thriving.

Families aren't.

And what about your relationships?

Ooh, well, I've had boyfriends,

like everyone else.

And what do they think

about what you do?

Some of them are okay with it,

and some of them aren't.

And If they don't like it?

Well, If they want me,

they have to accept it.

Yeah, but don't they get jealous?

I like them to be jealous.

Or just a bit.

That's a contradiction,

isn't it'?

If you say so.

- You ever dated a client?

- Maybe.

Tell us about him.

It's a she.

- A female client?

- Most "shes" are.

- Uh, do you see many women?

- No.

- Do you like seeing them?

- Nope.

- Why?

- Women are too hard to read.

A guy's got a fat dick

or he hasn't.

Women aren't like that.

Tell me about her.

- Nope.

- Why?

It's personal.

But I'll tell you about Arthur.

Not his real name.

Well, do they ever

tell you their real name?

Probably not, but I wouldn't know...

I don't ask.

- It's not relevant.

- So, is Angie your real name?

What do you think, sweetie?

Do you think Angie's my real name?

Do you?

So, what would you like

to call me, then?

I can be anyone you want.

I could be Kylie, Lulu,

Franoise.

I can even be mistress Violet.

But she'll cost you more.

I'm not a client.

You're paying me by the hour

and I'm giving you

what you want.

Not the same.

Listen, honey.

I've got hundreds of guys

who want to videotape me,

so don't think

you're anything special.

You've just got a bigger camera.

Big lens, big camera...

that's why I'm charging you more.

Take it as a compliment.

I'm not doing it

for gratification.

We're all doing it

for gratification.

Oh, really?

And what about the real you?

The real me?

F***.

If you prefer I talk

about the structure properties,

composition, reaction,

and preparation

of chemical compounds,

I'll give you another name.

But what the hell are we talking

about all this other stuff for?

This... is the real me,

and if you don't understand that,

then what the f*** are we doing?

Do you want to continue, or not?

It's up to you.

- I thought it was...

- Oh, well don't.

Just ask the questions.

Okay.

That, um, that guy... Arthur.

You want to tell us about him?

He was married. Two kids.

Had a thing for underwear.

Loved used panties.

He came every Tuesday morning,

10:
30, like clockwork.

Except one day, he didn't.

He didn't turn up.

His wife was there instead.

Lucy.

She'd found out about me.

Wanted to meet me.

Wanted to know

what I had that she didn't.

She said she wanted to know

what it felt like to buy someone.

I said,

"I'm not for sale."

She took some money out

and put it on the dresser...

And she told me

to take off my panties.

So, did you do as she said?

As I was told.

- I was doing my duty.

- Duty?

- My penance.

- You felt guilty.

I felt wet.

She lifted up my dress...

Then she gripped the fabric and just...

pulled it apart...

- tore it.

- Just like that?

Just like that.

I can't imagine you

letting anyone do that to do.

Oh, didn't let her.

She just did it.

Anyway,

that wasn't what bothered me.

It was the way that she looked at me.

The way she... examined me.

Then she took off her knickers

and she... sat on the bed,

and then she just...

spread her legs...

And she told me to show her

how good I was.

I knelt between her thighs and I...

I remember looking up

and seeing her smile...

Like she had me exactly

where she wanted me.

She grabbed me by the hair,

and she just pushed me into her.

So deep, I...

I couldn't breathe, you know?

It's funny, but I... I felt this

urge to prove myself, you know,

that I was good...

that I was worth it.

And she came?

She came three times before

she let me come up for air.

And then, when she recovered,

she... she said I was okay...

and a lot better

than her husband.

Then she held up her knickers

and said he'd never

get to smell them again.

And she dropped them on the carpet...

and then she left.

Just like that?

Just like that.

It was the end of the session.

Well, did you...

ever see her again?

Wow, I don't believe it!

You said you don't believe it.

W... I...

It's just an expression.

- Is it?

- What?

- Is it real?

- Is what real?

The story.

It was a fantasy, sweetie.

Oh, some of it was real.

What? What's wrong?

Oh, come on.

Don't be like that.

True? False? Does it matter?

- Of course it matters!

- Why?

Does everything have to be fact

to be valuable?

So, goodbye Chaucer,

goodbye Shakespeare.

But they were writing fiction.

They didn't pretend it was true.

Yeah? So?

When you read a book

or you see a movie,

you believe it, don't you?

I mean, I do.

You know, when the monster

jumps out from behind the door,

you scream because you're there.

You're right there.

Otherwise,

it wouldn't mean anything.

Yeah, but this is different.

This is supposed to be real.

It is real!

It's as real as anything else.

Geez, the fact that

I may or may not

have made up a few things

is just part of me.

It's who I am and how I work.

It's what makes me me.

And I'm the person

you're interviewing.

Do you have any other questions?

Sure.

All right.

So, when you're making love

with a client...

- I don't make love.

- Having sex.

- F***ing.

- Fine.

How do you separate love

and sex?

With a condom.

But isn't sex a...

an expression of love?

I assume you're being

deliberately contentious

rather than just plain stupid.

I think it's a fair question.

Really? They're two

completely different things.

Well, that's not

what most people think.

Well, it's like blackberries

and apples.

You put them together,

they make great pie,

but they're equally as good

on their own.

Okay. Forget love.

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