Original subtitles

(GENTLE MUSIC)

Subtitles by explosiveskull www.OpenSubtitles.org

(KNOCKING ON THE DOOR)

Eric?

Veronica?

That's so sweet.

Thanks, babe.

Please follow me.

(DOOR CLOSES)

So how was your journey?

ERIC: Pleasant, thanks.

Was parking okay?

ERIC: I took the train.

VERONICA: Do you have a car?

ERIC: An electric.

I'm learning to drive myself.

Late, I know.

I try to take lessons on my day off

but it's hard when you're taking

a business management course as well.

You're studying business?

Part-time and I do it online but

I'll have a degree at the end of it.

This is us.

Do you have something for me?

Thank you for your... donation.

What's that?

What?

A donation.

Well, if you paid me for a service,

that would make me a pro.

You're just tipping me for my time.

Shower's upstairs.

Feel free to get cleaned up before you leave.

I'm sorry, I can't...

Too soon?

(ERIC CLEARS THROAT)

Are you nervous?

A little.

I like men who are shy.

It's cute.

Is this your first time?

For what?

Why don't you get comfortable while I go freshen up a bit,

and when I return we can discuss how to settle you in?

Sounds good.

I'll be right back.

(SULTRY MUSIC)

(GIGGLES)

(MYSTERIOUS TECHNO MUSIC)

(BREATHING DEEPLY)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

(GROANS)

(LAMP THUDS)

(MYSTERIOUS TECHNO MUSIC)

I thought I'd slip into something more comfy.

Brandy or a prosecco?

The merlot's run dry.

Neither, I'll stick with an orange juice, thanks.

Let's make it for two then.

Are you feeling more relaxed?

The music's not too loud I hope.

Considerably, and no.

Good.

I need you feeling limber

if we're to live out your dreams,

of which I'm sure you have many.

Please, allow me.

What a gentleman!

You must be a stud with all the ladies.

Care for a cookie?

What kind do you have?

Oatmeal or spritzgebäck?

Are any gluten free?

Come on, I'm not that niche.

Neither am I, I just don't wanna fart

in the middle of our session!

I'll take oatmeal.

Thanks.

Let's get some ground rules out of the way first.

An experience with me

will make full use of our senses as we lose

all knowledge of time and reason to explore

each other's bodies, and extract intense pleasure

from one another to reach emotional heights.

Now I'm no clock watcher

but I do need to keep track of time

which is why I've brought my little friend here.

You've paid for 60 minutes so that's what I've set

and when the hour is up let's look back fondly

at our time together and not abuse its length.

Agreed?

Sounds fair.

(ALARM BEEPS)

So how do you wanna start?

With a promise that by the end of our session

neither of us are going to have sex.

That's fine, I have clients who are inclined like that.

I can play with myself while you watch or...

I mean nothing R-rate.

No oral, no finger-bang, handjob, blowjob,

just quality conversation between two people

as one tries to convince the other of a truth.

What truth is that?

That you're underselling yourself

and I don't just mean price.

You're too beautiful to be in this line of work

and I don't just mean looks.

I fulfill men's fantasies at a discounted cost,

who loses out?

Everyone.

If you're not paying me for sex

what do you want me for?

There are 58 minutes and 56 seconds

left on that clock.

That means that's the time I have

to convince you to quit your day job

and pursue a new line of work.

You're wasting your money.

- And buying an opportunity. - Why?

(ERIC CLEARS THROAT)

The phrase 'Love at first sight'

is a saying with romantic connotations

which I've never fully understood,

a line signifying our basic desires

through attaching a romanticized

notion to the idea that good looks

are more important than any other trait,

and that one's charm, wit, or personality come second

to wrinkle-free skin and a good selfie.

You're making no sense at the moment,

and did you really write 'selfie' in your speech?

Bear with me, it's a work in progress.

My understanding of the phrase

changed a few weeks ago when I was scouring the web

and came across your profile.

You were looking like you are right now, calm,

rosy, with just enough make-up on

to accentuate your features.

You have amazing eyes by the way.

Thanks.

But what drew me to your photo

was the trait that won't lie, your smile.

It was honest, pure, beautiful

and that's when I realized the meaning of the term

which wasn't to romanticize lust like I originally imagined

but the ability to see beyond the lens and appreciate

the beauty others fail to address.

So you see my beauty.

You and every other guy.

But with one major twist.

There are three key attributes that define

a man's attractiveness to a woman,

money, status, power.

Sure a guy can have good looks,

strong abs, and nice hygiene

but they don't hold nearly as much weight,

otherwise Ryan Gosling would be swimming in more tail

than Bernie Sanders.

You're saying Bernie Sanders has sex?

The guy gets laid more time than porn stars.

So when a guy uses a combination of all three,

he does it in accordance through a set of principles

designed to lower her inhibitions

and get her body into bed.

Or wherever they decide to have intercourse.

Today I find myself in the unusual position of

not needing to jump through hoops having already paid

for the service to have sex with you.

Correction, you paid for my time.

The sex is inconsequential.

Fair point.

But when I tell you I'm not looking to connect

for a quick screw, you know I'm telling the truth.

Have you ever seen The Wizard of Oz?

In black-and-white and color,

what self-respecting a girl hasn't?

I love that film.

To me the movie was ahead of its time

not least because of its frank depiction

of homosexual life.

Judy Garland was the lesbian.

So was Dorothy Gale.

The character was 12!

Played by a seventeen year old,

and if you've read the books you'll know

she marries Princess Ozma at the end.

Now with that info in mind you start to re-evaluate

the story in a completely different light.

Dorothy was a teenager coming of age.

She just found out she liked girls.

The cowardly lion was her fear of coming out,

the brain-dead scarecrow was her fear of being gay,

and then the heartless Tin-Man was her front

for society to show that she didn't care.

What about the Wicked Witch?

The bad witch was condemnation,

the good witch affirmation.

Wait, are you calling me a dyke?

No, I'm saying there's a lack of disparities

between faking being straight and being an escort.

It reminds me of the Tin Man

because what's the use of a body without a heart?

If life is like The Wizard of Oz,

let me be the wizard.

I mean I talk bullshit most of the time

and I stand behind a curtain,

but I'll do everything in my power

to grant you your wish.

That sounds like a pick-up line.

There's 55 minutes left on this clock

and I'll be using every one of those seconds

not in pursuit of your body but to win your heart,

because that's worth fighting for.

If you say you're in love with me,

I can give you the girlfriend experience...

The girlfriend experience is designed to deluding fools

into thinking there's meaning where there's none.

I want the real thing.

No offense but you base your opinion of me off a photo.

Everything I am is a fantasy.

I'd like to say as intuition.

You paid for the hour so I'm not gonna stop you wasting it

but if you really want to win me over,

you might want to start somewhere besides discussing

the homosexual undertones of a children's book.

What's your favorite color, what movies do you like,

where do you like to eat?

I jumped the gun.

You did, so what's your next play?

This isn't a game.

Everything's a game when gender's involved,

you just need to pick the right sport.

What sport would you pick?

Fantasy football.

Or any sport that doesn't require actual skill to win.

I don't think fantasy football counts as a sport...

It's not.

You're digressing.

Would you mind if I changed out of these clothes?

It feels weird having this conversation

when I'm dressed like a whore.

Sure.

Thanks.

Have you ever considered the possibility

I might like what I do?

Why would you?

VERONICA: Why wouldn't I?

90% of people don't like their jobs,

I'm just playing the odds.

VERONICA: 90% of people don't cum for a living.

When what you love becomes a job

it can no longer be what you love.

My father taught me that.

VERONICA: Your father makes no sense.

My father makes perfect sense.

VERONICA: It sounds like a palindrome.

Besides your dad and my dad

sound like they wouldn't get along.

How come?

VERONICA: He believes if you love what you do

then it's never a chore and if it's never a chore,

you're always having fun.

I don't think when he said it,

he had escorting in mind.

VERONICA: You have the Richard Gere syndrome.

What's that?

VERONICA: A First Knight complex.

The knight in shining armor saves the damsel in distress.

I'm a little lost.

VERONICA: Whether Richard Gere is playing a client

in Pretty Woman or an escort in American Gigolo,

you'll still side with him no matter what he does

because he's just so damn likeable doing it.

The same couldn't be said if he was played by a woman.

You can't scream sexism when he displays chivalry!

VERONICA: Why not?

It's misogyny at its finest!

Why is it that if a man cheats on his wife,

screws his colleagues, and generally acts like an asshole

to others people desire him more,

whereas if a woman wants to be an escort,

society condemns her for the sole crime of liking

to suck dick?

You don't hear Don Draper being scorned for his morals.

I don't believe that.

VERONICA: You don't agree with society's views?

That you like to suck dick.

VERONICA: I'd be a pretty poor escort

if I didn't enjoy giving blowjobs,

what makes you think I don't enjoy giving head?

Easy.

Your profile.

VERONICA: I ticked the box for fellatio.

It doesn't matter.

It's not your list of do's that convinces me

but how you describe yourself.

Care to explain?

Sure.

Do you remember what you wrote to describe yourself?

You were flirtatious and erotic,

using words typically found to describe a fine wine

with a touch of class and a shroud of mystery

designed to attract people into wanting to know more.

But then it came to your physical traits

and class became crass as you described

yourself in ways no-one should.

Such as?

Of your complexion you said you had...

A fuckable face.

And dick-sucking lips, and I don't care if you need sex

like fucking oxygen,

no-one should demean themselves that way.

Which is why I came to the conclusion that a lot of alcohol

and a touch of self-hate went into writing that profile.

What can I say?

I advertise myself like an eBay listing.

And if a guy's seeking an escort,

he's not looking for class.

- Companionship. - Bullshit!

That's what Rent-A-Friend is for!

Guys don't wanna talk, they wanna bang,

and they wanna do it the way they see it in porn.

You think they care about someone's beauty or intellect?

Bullshit!

Asia Carrera was in Mensa, Tera Patrick studied biology,

who gives a shit?

Guys just want someplace to stick their dick into

because Pornhub and Brazzers desensitized them

to what's normal and the flick of a wrist

won't do it anymore.

The easier we've made sex available to us

the harder we've made it for us to enjoy.

Now let's cut the subject and move on.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...

Yes you did!

And criticizing someone for their choice of work

isn't gonna help them quit.

If you don't like what you do then why do you do it?

The same reason as your 90%, to get paid.

Become a waitress.

And earn an income at minimum wage while your company

takes most of my tips?

No thanks!

There must be another way.

There will be, once I get my business degree.

You keep treating me as if I'm some kind of victim

and I'm not.

The real victims are the thousands of people earning minimum

wage who can't afford to put food on the table

because they've paid it all in rent.

The landlords get richer,

the tenants go to food banks,

and the government won't lift a finger

because unemployment figures are low.

You guys just lie there while you take it up the ass.

If somebody wants to fuck me in the ass

at least I charge extra.

I'm sorry,

- I didn't expect to... - No!

You don't get to do that!

You don't get to waltz in here and condescend my work

and then apologize for being a prick!

You based your opinion of me off of a photo?!

Let me tell you what I see.

Your collar's sweet scented with a strand

of graying brown hair.

It's too long to be yours and it certainly isn't mine

so it must belong to someone else.

Noting your proclivities don't include cougar prowling

I'm betting it's your mum's.

Round your feet, cat fur from when one nuzzled your leg,

likely a pet because it's also on your suit.

Cymric or Chausie?

Snowshoe.

An American cat, huh.

Your jacket, cashmere implies you come from wealth,

the silk lining suggests you have a lot of it.

Do you want me to continue?

ERIC: Veronica, I...

Veronica's not my name, it's Kimberly!

Kimberly, I'm sorry.

- I shouldn't have... - No, you shouldn't.

You're polite with your words but not with your actions

having failed to rise both times I entered the room,

and though you claim to be here to win my heart

the fact you're pressed against the other end of the sofa

suggests you're afraid and couldn't be further

from the truth.

Which makes me think you're a virgin.

A virgin who browses escort's websites

instead of searching for love on Tinder

says you're either eager to pop your cherry

or you're the biggest creep of all,

because you know what you're doing is morally wrong,

but as long as you pretend you're saving me,

you don't have to give a damn.

Am I right about any of this you sanctimonious prick?

Bang on.

Of course I am.

I know your secrets.

Every fantasy you've kept from your wife,

every lie you've told your child,

I know where you've been and where you'll go,

how to build you up or break you down.

I know this because I am an escort.

Now do you have any other questions of me

or shall we agree to call it time?

That's why we stayed apart.

My last client had a cream fetish.

It's something...

I don't care whether it's cream or cum,

you shouldn't have to degrade yourself in that way.

You're better than this.

You left your coat.

I'm going to the bathroom.

(WATER RUNNING)

(VERONICA KNOCKS)

KIMBERLY: Can I come in?

I'll be out in a sec!

KIMBERLY: I'm sorry about what I said.

No, you were right to get angry.

KIMBERLY: Still, I shouldn't have

confronted you like that.

I insulted you in your home.

You have every right to feel offended.

KIMBERLY: Why are you being so nice about all of this?

And why pick me?

You know why.

And it's my job to convince you to ignore the why not.

As for picking you over someone else,

let's just call it serendipitous fate.

This isn't the type of conversation

we should have through a door.

I thought I locked it.

Maybe your mind's playing tricks.

Why are you here?

Freshening up.

Gathering my thoughts.

Does it matter?

Just because you lost the first round

doesn't mean you can't make the second.

Now cheer up and let's try again.

I'm Kimberly.

I'm a paradox.

Really?!

One false move and you turn Emo on me.

It's the first time that counts.

Anything more is just the waste of an hour.

I didn't kick you out, did I?

So I'm saying there's a chance.

Tell me about yourself.

Help me fall in love.

Fine.

Tell me something Kimberly.

Do you like Christmas?

KIMBERLY: I don't think you're

getting second chances down-pat.

I mean it, do you like Christmas?

Santa Claus, mistletoe, getting drunk on eggnog,

high on good cheer.

The Grinch?

Sure, everyone loves Christmas.

ERIC: Do you celebrate?

Not religiously but yeah,

I like to give and take gifts.

Why?

I love Christmas.

To me there's nothing more magical than those

24 hours that bring people together.

What about New Year's?

A New Year in America

is different to a New Year in China.

No, forget its pagan origins

and Christmas is the one festivity

people can get behind regardless of faith.

Do you know what I like most about Christmas?

The run-up.

Christmas cards, advent calendars, candy canes,

and Coca Cola's Santa campaign,

there's so much activity going on.

It's almost as joyous as the big day itself.

Carol singers don't go out on Christmas,

and Santa's grotto isn't open,

but you know what happens when it's all over?

Good TV returns.

The food's been eaten, the gifts are unwrapped,

and you're just left with a hangover

and a huge mess to clean.

The same could be said about sex.

I'm not innocent,

in this century who is?

I haven't cum in over two years

and I don't stick my dick in a hole.

Easy buster, you're upping the creep factor to 11!

There's a point to all this.

I prefer foreplay, but being a virgin

and being inexperienced aren't always the same thing.

You asked me why I went to those sites and the truth is

it was to find an escort,

but my vice isn't food porn or dogging or pain.

It's a sensual massage and what that entails.

Not with you though,

never with you.

Thanks, I guess.

Imagine the year is represented by a circle.

And Christmas makes up less than one degree of that.

That leaves the rest of the year

to indulge in the excitement and the build-up.

That's what a body massage feels like,

regardless of the approach.

I'm tainted Kimberly.

I've done everything short of penetration,

I've practiced every kink

that doesn't involve 4th base.

I'm a living proof that being a sexually active virgin

isn't an oxymoron.

But I'm past all that now,

and my intentions for you are nothing but pure.

How many women?

18.

And what makes me so different?

Because you're perfect,

and it saddens me to be the only one who sees it.

(KIMBERLY LAUGHS)

Bullshit!

That's fuckin' bullshit!

You're not a virgin!

I could be.

You said so yourself.

I was being mean.

You're being perceptive.

If you've gone so long without getting any.

Did you ever consider you might be gay?

- You should try out Grindr... - I'm straight,

thanks for asking.

KIMBERLY: I'm just saying.

I could be celibate, though.

While getting lingam massages from Taiwanese hookers!

I prefer Romanians.

Let's head back downstairs.

Do you want a bite to eat?

ERIC: I ate already.

An ice-cream then.

I'm lactose intolerant.

You're talking shit, aren't you?

ERIC: It's a real thing.

I know but I can tell when you don't want to share.

I don't have any cooties that I'm aware of.

ERIC: I might.

Suit yourself.

I guess it means more ice-cream for me.

So...

What's on your mind?

There might be a way for you to get paid doing

what you do without having to sell your body if you do it.

You're not going to suggest webcams, are you?

No, but at least you won't get pawed

by some fifty-year old overweight guy.

I like my privacy.

You fuck strangers for a living.

So does every twenty-something year old.

Just because a guy can stick his dick up my ass

doesn't give him the right to take screenshots of it.

I want to be in control.

But your pictures are already on adult sites anyway.

Non-nude, I can handle that.

So if it's not webcams what's your idea?

Dating.

Literal dating.

Bring back the meaning of the term escort

as a guide rather than a euphemism of some sort.

Dating guys for a free meal

doesn't sound like much of a career.

And escorting is?

Hey, people love sex.

It's the oldest profession for a reason.

So's slavery but you don't see that on people's resumes.

Non-transferrable skills.

Why didn't you try Pay For a Date or What's Your Price?

You might get paid dating guys you actually like.

The reason I don't do online dating

is because when guys pay me they know what they're getting.

There's no lies, no deceit, no notion.

It's something more than it's not.

It's a straightforward transaction.

Have you ever felt anything for a client?

No.

I don't get it.

To me sex is the most intimate experience two people

can have, am I right?

Sure.

How does it not muddle your feelings?

Because it's not me they're not sleeping with.

If their cocks are in your pussy,

it's you they're sleeping with.

No, they're fucking me.

There's a difference?!

A technical one.

Who I am,

who I really am

is a business student and a girl.

I like art, good books, French brie,

and playing Tetris on my own.

I am shy and romantic and don't sleep with married men.

Veronica was created to be the whore

so I don't have to.

But you are Veronica!

It's your lips that do the talking,

your pussy that takes a pounding,

how can you not take ownership of that?

Do all teachers like kids?

What I think and what I do aren't always the same thing.

- It's different with them. - How?

It's their profession.

Mine too.

Plus at least mine's in the dictionary

which is more than I can say for a Pizza Entrepreneur.

Their words are echoing the company's.

And no CEO's ever lied before?

What you do, it's unethical!

So's being a lobbyist for tobacco

but I don't see you picketing them.

You sleep with married men

and destroy their families.

How can you separate yourself from that?

Easily, I'm not at fault.

You're kidding me.

If they're coming to see me,

their marriage is already on the line.

I'm just the catalyst that tips it over the edge.

But you're not giving them the chance to make amends.

What's to amend?

Sex isn't chemistry, it's biology

and men were programmed to mate.

I wouldn't blame a man for stepping out on his wife

any more than I would a cat for eating a mouse.

I'd really hate to think you actually believe that.

Why not?

Because it means you're a lost cause.

Don't worry, I'm not.

It was Veronica's turn to speak.

Out of sheer curiosity,

do the spouses keep their ring on when they pay you a call?

Most do.

Some don't, but you can always tell by the indent.

So they're consciously aware

of what they're doing is wrong either visually or sensually,

which makes you temptation.

And if you aren't there, if escorts aren't there,

then they'd be no one to cheat with.

Save for neighbors, friends, in-laws, and strangers.

And when an emotional attachment develops,

then they'd be really screwed.

I'm a sex doll with a heartbeat.

The only meaning I bring is with my body

that's why I'm the safest bet.

But you're being used.

I'm not!

By your own admission, you're being paid

to be someone's cum bucket.

What do you call that?

- Feminism. - Bullshit!

You're saying a woman can't enjoy sex

without losing her feminist card?

I'm saying you lost your card

the moment you decided to get abused for a few bucks.

Post-millennial feminism.

I'm still the one in control.

Exploiting your body isn't empowerment.

And just because you charge for services

doesn't make you in charge.

It does, depending on what you do.

Do you know what I love most about being an escort?

What?

Being a dominatrix.

Take a look at this.

(ERIC SCOFFS)

(CROW CAWING IN DISTANCE)

(SIGHS DEEPLY)

How many clients do you have?

I see five a day.

I'm saving for a trip.

- Where to? - Disneyland.

Here.

How may I serve you, my queen?

Clients like him who pay to be my slave.

Drive me around, buy me gifts, carry my shopping,

and some even became my friends.

If a man pays for your company,

he can never be your friend.

Being a domme is liberating.

The pay is good.

I don't sleep with my clients, plus there's the added bonus

of getting to kick guys in the balls.

What if they turn violent?

That's why I always look through the peephole

before every appointment

to check they're not drunk before letting them in.

Besides, I have a boyfriend.

Wait, you have a boyfriend?

Uh-huh.

And you didn't think to tell me?

Why ruin the moment?

It's the best girlfriend experience I've done in months.

What's his name?

Does that matter?

In my shoes, it does.

Dov.

Does Dov work?

He does.

He's between jobs.

But happy to share the spoils.

He is.

Does Dov spend a lot of time on the couch watching TV?

- (IRRITATED) Don't do that. - What?

Insinuate I'm being used.

It's too catty for you.

I guess I'd rather be a bitch than his ass.

This was a mistake.

Fucking Dov or fooling me?

Debating with you.

You said you're in love,

but you're just like every other guy.

Judgmental and a hypocrite.

The reason I'm with Dov is because he's comfortable

with what I do.

And while most men can't bear the thought

of their partners cheating on them,

he's confident enough to trust me

in the choices I make.

But not smart enough to challenge the shitty ones.

Get out of my flat!

I'm sorry for what I said.

No you're not.

If we keep going back and forth,

we're gonna end up in the same place.

Help me understand why you like this man.

I said I was with him, not that I like him.

But your heart belongs to him.

It's an expression.

In a Hallmark card.

I'm not having this discussion with you.

Please leave.

No, no, no.

Look, I'm sorry.

You gave me a chance and I blew it.

I apologize.

You gave me another and I blew that.

Just, let's veer away from the topic

and talk about something else.

Just so you can repeat yourself.

My heart's been toyed with one too many times already.

There are guys I refuse because they wanna defecate on me

who make me feel less shitty than you did just now.

Now, leave, before I have my flatmate throw you out.

I'll go because you asked,

but let's not make talking through a door our thing.

Trust me, I won't.

(SLAMS THE DOOR)

ERIC: I won't give up on us!

Go away!

(SIGHS DEEPLY)

The man you'll send to kick me onto the street,

is he Dov?

(SCREAMS) Yes!

ERIC: I'd like to meet him.

Fuck you!

(SIGHS)

(SIGHS DEEPLY)

ERIC: I'm guessing he protects you

in case you get harassed.

Am I right?

Every night!

ERIC: Then he must wait in the other room

in case you sound the alarm and listens.

How you can protect a guy

who lets other men abuse his girl is beyond me?

I mean, call me old-fashioned, but I believe monogamy

still has a place in the world.

Where is your boyfriend anyhow?

He oughtta have kicked my ass by now.

Stop it!

(CRIES)

(MUFFLED SCREAM)

(GENTLE KNOCKING ON THE DOOR)

There's a guy I once knew, Mike Atkins.

My best friend since childhood.

And if you can support each other through puberty,

you can help each other with anything.

Anyway, Mike has a vice.

It's his craving for meat.

And like most junkies, he doesn't realize he's obsessed.

His family try talking him out of it,

I try to talk some sense in, but Mike doesn't listen

until eventually, that's all he eats.

I still remember the last time I saw Mike.

We're at my place binge watching TV

when he up and tells me he's going to Taiwan.

Why the fuck not, I say.

It's only a million miles away.

But Mike, ever the pragmatist,

decides to answer my question.

He tells me that he's met a girl

and that he's fallen in love.

He wants to relocate to spend the rest of his life with her.

How long, I asked.

Six months, he says,

mainly online through MeetMe and MeowChat

with occasional encounters on Second Life as well.

What the fuck I'm thinking to myself.

This is more terrifying than an arranged marriage.

Then Mike tells me the following words,

which I'll never forget.

He says, love isn't reflected by a person, but a symbol

measured by the sacrifices we're willing to make

to keep it in our hearts.

At first, I didn't wanna believe him, but

when Mike tells me he's turned vegan for her,

that's sealed the deal.

Great, I tell him.

I'm sure the cows are delighted to hear it, but why Taiwan?

Why not bring her here?

Temptation was his response.

You tried to change my ways, so did everyone I love,

but look at you.

You love Turkish food, you order sirloin steak.

You're the one who takes me to meat fests.

And as long as I stay with you, I'm never going to change.

Mike left the following day and took his baggage with him.

He's getting married next April with a baby on the way.

Now, I don't know Dov.

For all intents, he could be a real-life saint,

but if staying with him means you'll end up like this,

then the guy is as bad as gluten

and you need a detox from him.

As for me, I know we've only just met

and I know it sounds crazy to profess my love like that,

but you're the symbol I've been searching for.

The woman I'm willing to compromise

my principles to be with.

And I wanna spend what time I have left

trying to enrich yours

because I love you and...

(DOOR SWINGS OPEN)

Come inside.

(OWL HOOTING IN DISTANCE)

(BREATHS DEEPLY)

Thank you for giving me another chance.

I didn't want my landlord involved.

Does he know what you do?

It's an unspoken rule.

Everyone on my floor are escorts.

So, what next?

You still have a few minutes left on the clock.

What do you wanna do?

(KIMBERLY SIGHS DEEPLY)

You can start by telling me your name.

I told you my name.

Your real one.

You told me it's not Veronica

and you don't look like a Kimberly,

so what is it?

Janice.

It's a pleasure to meet you, Janice.

We can sit here and talk if you'd like.

Talking is what got me into this mess.

I think I'll be wise and hold my tongue for a bit.

What do you wanna do?

It's up to you.

It's usually the clients who make demands.

That's kinda how escorting works.

But let's see what happens if we change the rules.

We can listen to music if you'd like.

I've got Bluetooth on my stereo.

Why don't you sync your phone so you can play me a track?

Why not one of yours?

I know my taste, I'm curious to see yours.

What sort of music do you like?

Choose something we can dance to.

Dancing is my kryptonite.

You have two left feet?

More like no feet at all.

It's fine.

Pick a song you know the lyrics to and follow my lead.

The beat will do the rest.

(GENTLE MUSIC)

Do you wanna see the other room?

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

Eric,

now that you remember what I do for a living,

what do you think of me?

ERIC: I feel sorry for you.

Sit down.

This is where the lady becomes a whore.

Why are you telling me all this?

Because it's what clients wanna hear.

I don't.

Do you remember your first time?

I told you, there's never been a first.

I mean, your first time with an escort.

Whether it'd be a lingam massage or full-blown sex.

Everyone remembers their first and it's always about loss.

ERIC: It's part of growing up.

But not on your terms.

Can I tell you what my first time was like?

ERIC: Please.

Like a Russian doll.

Layers unveiled until your inner child is exposed

for strangers to touch.

ERIC: Then why did you do it?

The money.

It's always the money.

ERIC: You could've done anything else in the world.

You didn't have to take this path.

There wasn't any other path to take.

Here's a story.

Tell me if you've heard it before.

A country girl moves to the city to make it big.

Unable to break into the music industry,

she becomes a bartender to make ends meet.

But property prices move up and the landlords get greedy

and soon, the young girl is priced out of the city.

Only she doesn't leave.

Her brother looks up to her and her father is sick

and she's the only chance they have of keeping their home.

So she goes back to work, taking two jobs to pay for rent

and using vouchers and food stamps to keep costs low.

But the saving she's made

is outweighed by the rises in price.

And three months later, she's back where she was.

Now, this young girl has a flatmate

who never leaves her room and every week, seems to have

a new pair of Louboutin shoes.

And on the eve of her eviction,

she decides to ask for advice.

Become an escort, her flatmate says.

Suck and fuck for bucks.

And at first, the girl is morally outraged,

but three hours and two whiskeys later

and she's set up a profile on Adult Work

and is awaiting her first client.

ERIC: Hey,

you don't have to tell me the rest if you don't want to.

But I do.

His name was Mr. Singh,

though his driving license read otherwise.

50, bald, sweating like a pregnant nun with a face for radio

and a voice for silent film.

There was no talk, no chemistry, just business

as he sat on my couch and pulled out his tiny, bulbous penis

from a pair of crust-infested undies,

the most revolting I'll ever see.

And then told me to suck.

Giving oral to that bean while his flabby stomach

rubbed against my head

was the most sickening experience I'd ever felt.

Until moments later when he violated me with it.

By the end of the night, I was curled up in a ball, crying.

Wanting to Skype my mother

and beg to come home, but I didn't.

And the next day, I did it again and again

until I numbed to it.

My pain stopped mattering anymore (CRIES).

Money has a way of doing that to people.

You know something's gone wrong with your life

when the movie that best describes it is fuckin' showgirls.

What does your family think you do?

That I'm a waitress who makes good tips.

Don't you lie to yours?

Why would I?

To account for all the times you're being milked

by Romanian girls.

Not really.

They don't care at this point.

Do you mind if we let some light in?

I kinda feel like I'm drowning in the '80s.

That's a bad thing?

It is if you're black and living in South Africa.

Or if you're black living in America.

Or if you're black.

I didn't think we could make jokes

about the Apartheid just yet.

We can't, but it's a representation of the '80s

like Dry Ice or Gleaming the Cube.

I like Dry Ice.

But in small doses,

otherwise, you risk being in a scene from Flash dance.

I like Flash dance.

Who doesn't?

But if we're comparing '80s dance flicks,

then Footloose takes the cake.

At risk of running this conversation on dead,

didn't the Berlin Wall come down in the '80s?

'89 and Empire Strikes Back came out in 1980,

so two tail ends of the decade, yeah.

Then it's not all bad.

Two success stories in a brain fart of a decade

hardly constitutes as a cultural renaissance.

But it did give us Schwarzenegger and Stallone

and that makes the '80s a glorious gem.

I can agree with that.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

We're running out of time.

And you're nowhere nearer than when you began.

I asked too many questions and made a fool of myself,

so for now, I'll just like to listen.

Good.

I have a question of my own.

Shoot.

You're dying, aren't you?

(CLOCK TICKING)

ERIC: That's why we stayed apart.

VERONICA: My last client had a cream fetish.

It's some lotion.

ERIC: I don't care if it's cream or cum.

You shouldn't degrade yourself in that way.

You're better than this.

You left your coat.

I'm going to the bathroom.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

What's AZT?

What?

I ask what you say it is.

What's AZT?

Azidothymidine.

I know, I can read the label.

What is it?

If you've got the vial, you must've Googled the word,

you know exactly what it does.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Please, just tell me.

It's a drug.

What for?

To treat disease.

What kind of disease?

I'm HIV positive.

(VERONICA SCREAMS)

(KNOCKS) Can I come in?

ERIC: I'll be out in a sec.

I'm sorry about what I said.

ERIC: No, you were right to get angry.

What, you have AIDS?

I don't have AIDS, I'm HIV positive.

There's a difference.

There's a virus swimming around your body

that gives people AIDS.

Ergo, you have fucking AIDS!

I'm sorry.

How'd you catch it?

I thought you were a virgin.

You don't need to have sex to get infected.

Are you gay?

No!

And linking homosexuality to HIV is a misconception.

You ought to know better.

Well, fuck you and your disappointment

and you had no right to keep this from me.

But we weren't gonna have sex.

I wasn't even gonna let you kiss me.

You should've told me.

But why?

You took my prescription.

You knew what I had.

Why get angry now?

Because I needed to be wrong.

Fuck!

I have no more words to say.

Janice, wait!

Janice!

Still, I shouldn't have confronted you like that.

ERIC: I insulted you in your home.

You have every right to feel offended.

Why are you being so nice about all of this?

And why pick me?

ERIC: You know why,

and it's my job to convince you to ignore the why not.

As for picking you over someone else,

let's just call it serendipitous fate.

(DOOR UNLOCKS)

This isn't the kind of conversation

we should have through a door.

(SLAPS)

I don't know if what you're doing is a joyride or a crusade,

but you need to stop, Eric.

You need serious mental help.

I have reasons for my actions.

What are they?

I'm just trying to save your life, Rachel.

What did you just say?

Janice, Kimberly, Veronica, Rachel.

They're all aliases created by you,

but only one of them is real.

You're mistaking me for someone...

Else?

Take a look at the letter on the counter.

R. Childs, Rachel Childs.

You might've changed your name on Facebook,

but the world knows exactly who you are.

KIMBERLY: And who are you?

You know who I am, I never lied about that.

The real question is why am I here?

You wanted me to quit.

That's my purpose.

But what's my motive?

To be pretty fucking creepy.

You have AIDs.

HIV, there's a difference, you know.

You like erotic massage.

Lingam, and that's right.

You hate the '80s.

Wrong train of thought.

And you're in love with me.

But why is that?

I don't know.

We've only just met.

First time in person, yeah,

but how can I be so sure about you?

Because you follow my Twitter?

And Pinterest and Instagram.

Let's not dwell on details.

It's the details that count.

That's how you know if a guy is prince charming

or a complete psycho stalker.

For the sake of this exercise,

let's say I'm not Norman Bates,

what next?

You followed me on social media,

that's when you fell in love.

We market ourselves on social media.

It's not your brand I'm interested in, it's you.

Why can't you just tell me?

Because if I tell you, I would have failed in my goal.

You're so close to the end, Rachel,

you just need to connect the dots.

(GENTLE MUSIC)

You had the disease before you met me.

Before you found me on Twitter,

so you knew we could never be together,

not physically at least.

Right path, wrong logic.

You're so close.

If your feelings grew organically,

someone must've told you about me.

Like Kyle Reese in The Terminator,

I didn't have to meet you to know how I'd feel.

My mother sent you.

(CLAPS)

Come home, Rachel.

How did she know?

You've engaged with enough clients in your office

for word to spread.

Go back to her.

See your family again.

Rachel, everybody has a past,

but it's the future that's yours to shape.

May I?

(ERIC SIGHS)

Do you wanna know how I got involved?

Eating pussy.

Like I said, I'm a virgin, but I've been abound.

My tongue has been in and out of so many holes

it practically needs a condom of its own.

Please stop, you're not helping.

I'm serious!

Rachel, I'm a cliche

and evidently, a karmic joke.

But I'm here now to make sure others don't follow suit.

Getting AIDs through carpet munching.

It's a niche market.

Making a vlog won't work.

And if you warn people about the dangers of disease,

just gets met with a passive shrug.

If you wanna make a difference,

you have to hit people with a sledgehammer,

then you'll have a platform to talk.

When Grindr and Tinder made easy sex the cultural norm,

what chance did I have to change anything?

But then I thought of something.

You don't ask a vegan to convince somebody

to stop eating meat.

Not with education anyway.

They'll berate them with words, pseudo-philosophy

and show them images of cruelty,

and the most you can hope for

is self-loathing when they eat.

If you wanna persuade someone to stop eating meat,

get them a cow.

Watch them nurture him, feed him,

raise him like one of their own.

And when the cow comes of age,

you slaughter him right in front of them.

That'll have them convinced.

You make them fall in love.

That's what happened with Mike Atkins

and that's what can happen with others too.

So I took a shot and visited escorts,

only this time, I didn't declare what I had.

I let them draw their own conclusions

to see what could happen to someone they liked

and how close they'd come to market themselves to death.

Did it work?

Yeah,

but it's different with you

'cause I genuinely love you this time.

Rachel, your mother saw one of my YouTube videos

and got in touch.

She told me about your plight.

The more I learned about you,

the more I fell for what you represent.

What do I represent?

Purity in chaos.

The reason you think you're in love with me

is 'cause you're attracted to pain.

Your parents, my parents,

you're saying they never fell in love?

They made the mistake of believing, fucking,

and making love to be mutually exclusive

when the only difference is the tempo.

You really think that?

I told you,

the only difference is a technical one.

Now, can I ask you something?

Anything.

Why are you a virgin?

I wanted to give meaning to an action where there is none.

There's plenty of meaning to popping your cherry.

For a woman maybe.

For a guy playing Pattycake or Flog the Bishop's,

all the same.

So I needed to distinguish between

when I actually fell in love.

Not that it's gonna happen now.

I didn't put you down for the religious type.

I'm not, I just like the concept.

Now, you're willing to lose your glass slipper to me?

Yes,

but it's a love I'd never be able to consummate.

Should it matter?

No, but I'd like to know what it felt

like just once.

Try sticking your dick in jelly and cream.

I don't think wanting to be celibate's your problem,

otherwise the Jonas Brothers would be guilty as well.

What I really wanna know

is why you like escorts so much?

Sorry, I'm still stuck

on the jelly and creams part.

Your addiction to escorts fits a void in your life

which having a girlfriend won't accomplish.

Don't bother trying to psychoanalyze me.

This session is about you.

No, it's about your inability to have sex

because you still believe in fairytales.

Please, don't shut me out.

I'm not.

You're gonna walk out of here yourself

when you come to terms with the reality of your plight.

You're a failure.

You're a person trying to seek human connection

in an industry where there is none.

Mistaking lust for love and foreplay for intimacy,

which is strange because we're a nation built on sex.

In our ads, in our mags, in the way we walk

and the way we talk.

And I don't blame you for who you are.

You're like this because you were raised that way,

and I don't mean by your parents.

We're a nation confused,

sending clients like you to escorts like me

because your sex-ed was learned in porn.

Your CNN is Playboy, your Reddit is Bang Bus,

and your role model is Sasha Grey.

If life is about sex and sex is about power,

then being an escort is the relinquishment of it

and being a virgin means never having it

and that's why we'll never make it out.

(TIMER BEEPING)

Time's up.

I thought you weren't a clock-watcher.

I lied.

Can I say one thing?

No.

What?

I had another friend besides Mike, Chrissy Hart.

Which wasn't a stage name, but her Christian one.

Although, she did end up doing porn.

Chrissy was raised Catholic and she's the religious type.

Went to communion on the Sunday, took part in the choir.

She would even take offense if people made jokes

about other Catholic priests.

So Chrissy goes off to college

where she mixes in with the wrong crowd.

Girls telling her way she can make money

without compromising her beliefs.

Financial domination, it's called,

where you text a guy orders and get pampered

without having to lift a finger.

You're probably familiar with that already.

But her friends are making more money than her

and she soon finds out why.

They're selling their undies.

The more soiled, the better for guys to sniff.

She sees no harm in it, so joins the team.

The first compromise is made.

Then she sees there's money to be made

selling pictures of yourself.

And if God created her body,

who is she to deny the world of her beauty?

The second compromise is made.

Chrissy soon webcamming in her dorm room,

strutting her stuff for easy cash

till a fellow student reports her

and she gets kicked out of college.

Not before being offered to do porn

and she's gone this far.

So why not accept

compromise number three?

Now, porn is a tough act to break into

as ironic as that might sound.

A few people make it, but most quickly leave, and

Chrissy wasn't one of those who succeeded in it.

After few high profile gigs, she,

she ends up falling into fetish sites,

where she's slapped and abused for guys to enjoy.

So she decides to come home,

but her parents have disowned her.

Her friends want nothing to do with her, and I take her in.

I know nothing more than pity.

Chrissy tries to rebuild her life

volunteering at a homeless shelter and

over the next few weeks,

it looks like she's getting things back on track.

But it just wasn't meant to be.

The woman I knew isn't the same who came home.

She was so screwed up from her experiences

that the only thing she understood was sex.

As I later found out, she was escorting on the side.

She caught the disease of one of her clients

and six months later, she died.

That's about the same time I started seeing escorts myself.

I thought I'd be stronger than her,

I'd be smarter, I'd be safe.

I thought I'd meet someone like her, but,

well, you know the rest.

I guess what I'm trying to say is

life is a series of compromises and chances.

The less you make of the former,

the more you can make of the latter.

Don't be Chrissy Hart, Rachel.

You're better than her

because you're better than me.

("LOOKING FOR A HOME")

♪ I've been walking everywhere ♪

♪ I've been feeling so alone ♪

♪ I've been knocking down the door ♪

♪ Just looking for a home ♪

♪ I've been taking God's sweet sigh ♪

♪ To words that just don't rhyme ♪

♪ I can't live without the ♪

RACHEL: Wait!

♪ I can't ever be with you ♪

♪ I won't ever see you through ♪

♪ I can't ever take the time ♪

♪ To, to, to, to, to, to take the time ♪

♪ Are you worth it, are you not ♪

♪ Sing a song that just won't start ♪

♪ Breaking boundaries that should be left alone ♪

♪ I'm looking for a home ♪

(GENTLE MUSIC)

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