The Image
- X
- Year:
- 1975
- 89 min
- 269 Views
When I saw Claire again for the first time
that summer, it was at a party given by-
let's say the X's near
the Place de la Concorde.
The entire summer had been lovely,
but that evening was particularly beautiful.
I was late, as usual.
Normally,
I detest literary cocktail parties...
- Jean!
- Hi.
As anyone who attends them regularly
should, if he has any self-respect at all.
I had just come out of a long
siege with a short story,
an enormous resistance
to being completed, and,
had I to be totally honest,
I would confess that I was genuinely pleased
to be once more among the living.
How are you?
- And you?
- Fine.
Good.
Excuse me.
What struck me most about seeing Claire
again was that she hadn't changed at all.
I felt as if I had just
left her the night before.
Although, in reality, I hadn't seen her for
at least two or three years, maybe more.
Friedlander? Coudrain.
but I meticulously avoided getting involved
in the peculiar kind of pointless argument
which is so typical at that kind of party.
I remember that I noticed something
then in which I wouldn't have
minded getting involved,
and it was dressed all in white.
As I think back,
she had made more of an impression on me
than the usual pretty
girl one sees at parties.
The young girl in the white dress
and Claire were friends, obviously.
But beyond that, I sensed a strange link
between them, a kind of electricity,
although I had never heard it said that
Claire was particularly interested in girls.
Still, there was a conspiracy between
them that one could feel quite clearly.
Hi.
What are you doing hiding out there?
say to your delightful guests.
That shouldn't be too difficult for you.
What about the young
girl in the white dress?
I don't know a thing about her.
She came with Claire.
I suppose she's a friend of hers.
Funny thing is, I haven't been able
to get two words out of her all night.
I remembered clearly the
It was the look of one viewing a rerun of a
successful film one had directed oneself,
whose plot couldn't possibly
have any surprises.
Lovely to have had you.
Later, as I was getting ready to leave...
- Jean.
- All right,
I might call you later. Jean. Yes?
If you like,
perhaps we could have a drink somewhere
to forget about this dreadful party. Nice.
You can get to know Anne. Anne?
Anne.
You'll see.
She's very nice.
Who is she, anyway?
Just a young model.
And?
Well, she belongs to me.
Three mineral waters, please.
She's pretty, isn't she?
Yes, very.
She's very pretty.
You can touch her if you like.
And she has a beautiful mouth,
lovely soft lips, lovely,
soft, knowing lips.
And pretty teeth.
Come, let's have a look at them.
Stay like that.
Someday I'll show you some
photographs I took of her.
Claire had arranged to
meet me the following day.
I knew enough by now not to ask whether we
would be alone or with her young friend.
We were supposed to spend the afternoon
together in the Bagatelle Gardens,
the most beautiful rose garden in the world.
She had insisted that she
wanted to show it to me herself.
Claire was a stunning woman and probably
even more interesting than her friend.
But unlike her friend, she
At first this had bothered me.
But then I told myself that
it was her impeccable manners
and the precise way in
which she did everything
that made it impossible to think
about her as a potential conquest.
I probably needed to feel that at
least some little thing was vulnerable
desire in me to win her.
Claire was waiting for us in the car.
Anne's manner reminded me of a
well-behaved young schoolgirl.
I had time to ask the girl
several casual questions,
but all I could get out of her was,
"Yes, monsieur,"
"No, monsieur,"
or, "I don't know, monsieur,"
as though she were a child.
Instead of letting us wander from flower to
flower, Claire made us look at the varieties
that she admired most, knowing
exactly where each one was.
After the grand tour, we wandered off
toward a more deserted part of the garden.
Go over to it.
Go on. Hurry up.
Now go ahead.
Watch this.
She has pretty hands.
Yes.
She likes doing that, you know.
It excites her.
I can prove it to you, if you like.
At the slightest provocation,
she gets all wet.
Isn't that right, little one?
All right, that's enough.
Pick the flower and bring it over here.
Well, what are you waiting for?
It's not allowed.
Nothing that I like is allowed, Anne.
You know that.
There are too many thorns.
You simply have to get scratched.
Very good.
And it wasn't too difficult, was it?
Of course, you will be punished for
having hesitated just a second too long.
What are you planning to do?
I don't know.
But she'll be punished in front of you.
Somebody's coming.
All right, bring the flower.
Excuse me.
What time is it, please?
10:
30.We continued our walk.
Anne, in the middle, held the rose against
her breast so no one could detect her crime.
We soon came to a sort of grove or thicket,
more or less closed off from
the rest of the gardens
and completely deserted.
Since there weren't any flowers, we reasoned
that here we could find some privacy.
This will be all right.
No. She'll have to stand.
to hide what she's stolen.
The rose must be hidden.
All she has to do is throw it over there.
But it would be such a shame to
lose such a beautiful flower.
Yes.
No.
I don't know.
It's very simple.
You'll have to hide it
somewhere on your person.
Come over here.
Lift your skirt.
Lift your skirt.
You'll have to lift it higher than that.
Hurry up.
Higher.
Well, what do you think of it?
The design on the tops of the stockings
is a particularly charming touch.
What we will do is slip the
stem up between the garter belt
and the skin about there
close to the crotch.
The thorns should be strong enough
to hold the flower in place.
Only when she's standing still.
See how nice I am?
I'm taking off all the little
thorns so as not to hurt you.
But I forgot.
She's supposed to be punished, isn't she?
Spread your legs apart, and then don't move.
I'm going to hurt you.
Come close to me.
Please, please don't.
I beg you.
Please. No.
Now hold still.
No, please.
Please, no.
No, no.
There.
That's pretty, isn't it?
A great success, but perhaps rather
overburdened with symbols in,
I would say, the surrealist tradition.
You may lower your dress.
Can you still feel the
petals between your thighs?
Does it feel nice?
Well, can't you answer?
Yes, it feels nice.
I have... I need to stop a minute.
No, you can't go now.
You didn't have to drink so
much water in the first place.
I didn't know yet what
Claire was leading us up to.
At last, we came to an area that
seemed more wild and natural,
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"The Image" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_image_20504>.
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