Original subtitles

Thank you.

Well, as you can see, Miss Rogers, the place hasn't been lived in in quite some

time. As a matter of fact, I'm not real sure when the last tenants were here,

but I know it's been well over a year. I mean, that's when the agency took on

this place.

But, I mean, you can tell.

It's loaded with charm.

Oh, I hope you don't mind a little house cleaning.

No, really, it's a quaint old place. It just needs a little sprucing up.

Oh, and the place is loaded with antiques.

Take a look at this furniture.

You don't see furniture like this anymore.

That's just fine, Mr. Beasley.

Oh, call me Ned.

Everybody in town calls me Ned.

And if you're going to be renting from Beasley Realty, then you're going to be

member of the town, right?

And everybody in town calls me Ned, so you call me Ned.

All right, Ned. Why don't you call me Amy?

Oh, okay.

Well, you know, Miss Rogers, if you want... Amy.

What?

Amy.

Oh, Amy.

Well, listen, Amy, if you don't like this place, and I mean, I can understand

why you may not be interested in it. I've got lots of other places I can show

you, you know, shall we say on the more modern side.

No, this is just fine, really, just fine. Well, you know, the place is only

available for the summer, and then they're going to tear the whole section

and put in that new freeway.

Now, you may not have a lot of neighbors here because everybody's pretty well

moved out, and so it might get lonely up here. Now, like I said, I've got all

these other properties I can show you.

No,

I like the solitude. It's perfect for what I'm doing in work.

Oh. Well, what kind of work are you doing? I'm a writer.

I write romance novels.

I was hoping that this house would bring me a little inspiration for my new

novel. Three months is just about right.

You sure you don't mind all the cleaning?

I'll take it.

You'll take it? Yeah.

Oh, fine.

Well, let's go down to the office and we should draw up some papers.

Oh, I forgot. There's just one more thing.

What's that?

Well, there's no truce to it, but...

People around here say that the house is haunted, and that's why it's been

vacant for so long.

Now, nobody's ever seen anything, and nobody's ever heard anything, but, you

know, it's just rumors. You know how small -town people talk.

Well, I guess that'll just reflect on what I pay for rent, right?

Ma 'am, yeah, I guess you got a point there, Miss Rogers.

Amy.

Amy.

This is Amy Rogers.

Chapter one, paragraph one of her fabulous new novel entitled...

Well, I don't have a title yet, but I'm sure I'll get one soon since I'm so

inspired over this ever so costly environment she's in.

The words are flowing over my typewriter like crystalline waters in a babbling

brook.

Like pebbles in a babbling idiot.

Bling.

Blowing my app.

Wines of passion.

Wines of lust.

No, no, no.

Wines of a Jewish American princess.

I want to go to Miami.

All right. All right, let's get the wine. Let's get the wine. How about

Bath.

Personal bath.

Beasley's brawny bathhouse. No, no, no. It's Ned.

Ned.

It's the 1990s.

Here's looking at you, Ned.

Unfortunately.

This place is great.

I wonder why good old Matt didn't tell me about this place.

The personal memoirs of Molly Mae.

A quaint.

A diary.

August 18th, 1887.

1887.

Wow.

His name is Jason.

And my love for him grows with every waking moment.

Our passion is a secret one, with its fires contained only in our hearts.

Wow.

This is some great stuff.

And how it burns.

The need.

The want.

The desire to have him.

Oh, how it burns.

It burns deep within me.

A yearning that causes wetness when I think of him.

I ache to have him near me.

But I must hold back.

I need him within me.

But I must not speak this.

I beg for him to enter my dreams, for it is there I may have him, without shame,

without secrecy, without hiding our love for each other.

Well, why the hell not?

Forgive me, Molly.

Memoirs of Molly Mae.

Chapter 1.

His name is Jason.

And my love for him grows with every waking moment.

Our passion is a secret one with its fires contained only in our hearts.

Very nice.

No, I really mean it. Please go on.

You.

So it was real last night.

Oh, it's real if you want it to be. But please go on with what you were saying.

It was lovely.

How it burns.

The need, the want, the desire to have him.

How it burns.

It burns deep within me.

A yearning that causes a wetness when I think of him.

I ache to have him near me, but I must hold back.

I need him inside of me, but I must not speak this.

I beg for him to enter my dreams.

For it is there I may have him without a shame.

Without secrecy.

Without hiding our love for each other.

Well, what do you think?

Oh, I think it's beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as you are.

Oh, Jason.

No, I really mean it.

I love the way you write. It excites me.

Jason, be careful.

What if your father should catch up? Oh, I don't care anymore. You know what I

think of him.

I think he's just jealous.

I'm not supposed to love you because you're a servant girl? To hell with him.

You're a princess and I love you. And your writing is so beautiful.

I would show you more, but they are my personal thoughts.

Well, then I'll leave it to your personal thoughts.

If you show me something else.

And what might that be, my love? Oh, your lovely breasts, my lady. Let's go

the attic room before Father gets home.

The attic room was special.

It was our place.

A secret place.

A place to be alone.

And a place to love.

Oh, wonderful.

I must be going crazy.

First I imagine that a man is attacking me in the middle of the night.

And now I'm chit -chatting with him.

Great.

Must be guilt.

Must be feeling guilty about stealing Molly Mae's material.

That was still warm.

The attic room was special.

It was our place.

A secret place.

A place to be alone.

A place to love.

It was here that our forbidden love would blossom.

Apart from the world below us. Apart from the tyranny of Jason's father. The

jealousy of Jonathan.

Jason's older brother.

And the suspicious eyes of Greta O 'Brien, the family housekeeper.

His kiss, ever gentle, caressed my lips, touching my very soul.

His moistened tongue teasingly traced its way round and round my mouth,

my lips along its way, until I bravely offered it more.

Then the dance began.

Our tongues touched. touched and embraced each other in a writhing ritual

passion.

Twisting and turning, they performed their ballet until, symbolically, I

his tongue to enter my mouth and explore the den of my heat.

I love you, Molly.

I've loved you ever since father kicked you in.

To help Greta with the chores.

To stand in the shadows and watch Susie scrub the floor. You look so sexy on

your hands and knees.

You're just silly, Jason.

And then we'd climb up the step ladder to dust.

I'd get a vision from heaven.

It was then that I realized how much I wanted you.

You animal.

For your information, I knew you were watching all along.

You see, I wanted you too.

His hand slowly worked its way down the softness of my neck and skillfully found

the buttons of my blouse.

One by one, buttons gave way.

One by one, exposing more and more of my heaving use of weightiness

touch.

His fingers glanced lightly across my flesh, sending a shiver of delight right

through me.

Then his lips hovered over his fingertips, and I could feel his hot

breast as I inhaled deeply, inviting his kiss, closer and closer,

with every breath, until...

Oh, good evening, Miss Rogers. I hope I'm not intruding or anything.

Oh, no, Ned.

Come on in.

And it's Amy, remember?

Oh, yeah.

Amy.

So, what can I do for you? Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and I thought

look at you.

Oh, I mean, look in on you and kind of see how you're doing.

Oh, you sure got this place fixed up nice.

I bet it was a lot of work, huh?

Boy, it was real dirty and cobwebs everywhere and dust.

Boy, I've never seen so much dust.

Okay, you can turn around now.

I'm sorry. I just like to be comfortable when I work.

Yeah, well, like I said, Miss Rogers, Amy, I was in the neighborhood and I

wanted to make sure you were settled in all right.

Everything's just fine, Ed.

You got a tape recorder.

Yeah, I use it for work.

When I write, I record my thoughts and then I put them on a typewriter.

That's pretty fancy.

Thank you so much. You haven't had any problems or anything?

You don't like noises or anything like that?

No. No, not at all, Ned.

What are you trying to do?

Scare me?

No, no.

I just thought it out.

Well, I guess I better let you get back to work.

Call me if you need anything now. It's okay. I'll show myself.

Bye, Ms. Rogers. Good luck with your book now.

What a nerd.

Well, now, where was I?

Then his lips hovered over his fingertips, and I could feel his hot

breast. I inhaled deeply, inviting his kiss closer and closer with

every breath until his lips pressed heavily into my bosom.

I ran my fingers through his hair and guided him to my nipple, allowing him to

suckle me.

We were in our heaven.

and time had no meaning.

Knowingly, he taunted me with his tongue from one breast to the other until I

felt his hand exploring the softness of my inner thigh.

Slowly and deliberately, he worked his way through my undergarments, finding at

long last my crotch dampened with anticipation.

His tongue traced the pathway that his hand had followed.

Slowly up my thigh, and surprisingly, upon reaching my womanhood, he looked up

as if to ask permission.

I reached for him and drew him to me.

Then I began my ecstasy.

Then he mounted me. His hard cock teased me, touching and probing and sliding

ever so close to my throbbing vagina.

Then it found its home. He thrust his cock into me, slowly closed

and deeper with every stroke until the swollen shaft filled me completely.

the swollen shaft and pulled him to my lips.

Dancing, my tongue crossed the tip.

With insatiable hunger, I looked up at him and said, I want to taste you.

I want to taste you.

Well, Molly, I must admit, I am quite jealous of your relationship with Jason.

God, he's such a hunk.

I guess I have to thank you for helping me get started with my book also.

Because without you, I would have never got started.

You know, I feel for you, Molly.

I feel close to you somehow.

Like we're the same, you and I.

Well, let's get to work.

Chapter 2.

Jason's father, or Mr. Cromwell, as we were allowed to call him, said it's his

usual place at the head of the table.

Supper was always a mixture of Greta's good food, Cromwell's sarcasm, and the

jealous comments from Jonathan. So tell me, my little younger brother, have you

boffed her yet? I mean, have you gotten into Molly's panties or what?

Jonathan, watch your mouth.

Father, everybody knows he's sweet on her.

Just the same.

And we have company.

You'll learn to mind your tongue.

Cindy's not company. She's family.

Besides, she's old enough to know what boffing is, aren't you, Cindy?

A cousin. A distant cousin. On your mother's side.

God rest her soul.

Brenda!

I'm sorry.

I will not tolerate foul language at my table.

Yes, sir.

Right on.

What's for dessert?

Oh, your favorite pudding, sir.

And Molly's bringing it.

If Molly's bringing it, I'll bet it's hair pie, right? Look, I've had just

enough out of you.

Boys!

Boys!

Thank you, Molly.

No, dear pie.

See?

See? See what you've done now? It's nothing, Cindy.

It's all right. I already know anyway, so there.

I'll bet you do.

Will that be all, sir?

Oh, yes. Thank you, Greta. That'll be all for now.

However, I might want some more dessert.

Later? Now, what's this I hear about you and Molly?

Jonathan is just jealous because she pays more attention to me than she does

him. That's a lie, and you know it. I could get into her pants if I want.

a slut and she knows it, Jonathan.

Watch your mouth, Jonathan.

Sorry, Father.

That's all right, Mr. Cromwell. Sluts have their place in society just like

pie has its place at the dinner table.

Yep.

She's family, all right.

Shut up, Jonathan, and eat your pie.

Put it!

The wind is sure blowing up a storm today.

What's wrong, Molly?

It's Jonathan.

He makes me so angry sometimes.

I heard what he said about me.

Don't give him the time of day, child.

He was first born.

He's just spoiled.

To tell you the truth...

I think he needs a woman.

Tea? Yes, thank you.

Here you go.

So tell me, there is something between you and Jason, isn't there?

I like him, Greta.

I like him very much.

Aye, but does he feel the same?

I believe so.

He tells me he loves me.

Yes. Well, it's plain to see there's something between you.

But don't let Cromwell find out. There'll be hell to pay.

Why is Mr. Cromwell so against me?

Oh, he's not against you, Molly.

Ever since Mrs. Cromwell died, he's been against kind of caring.

You know, it's plain to see the whole family's daft, girl.

Jason's the only one worthy of you, Molly.

Don't worry.

I'll take care of Cromwell and Jonathan for you.

Now, don't worry.

Just be careful.

I don't want to see you hurt.

Thank you, Greta.

Thank you for being so understanding.

Nonsense. We're women. We have to stick together now.

Don't worry. Run along. I'll clean up here.

Thank you, Greta.

Sure enough, love.

All by yourself, Jason?

Can I get you anything?

Oh, no, nothing's good.

Anything wrong?

I don't know.

Well, it looks to me like you've got a lot on your mind, and I'll bet I know

what it is.

She loves you now.

She does?

Yes.

She does.

More wine?

Yeah.

So am I going crazy or what?

I think we're both crazy. We can't hide this much longer.

No, you don't understand.

I think I'm losing my mind.

I mean, is any of this real?

I can't explain.

Look, all I know is I think you're beautiful.

I love the way you write.

I'll always come to you when you read to me.

Read to me some more, please.

Um... No, I don't think so, Jason.

Um, it's late.

And I think I should go to bed so I can wake up from this dream.

Goodnight, Jason.

Well, you can't have any more desserts until you've been punished.

Oh, yes.

Yes, please.

Punish me.

Author's note.

I seem to be questioning my sanity.

And I'm able to conjure up my characters out of the story at will.

They've become so real that I actually carry on conversations with them.

I must be cracking up.

And mostly, I'm falling in love with the leading man.

Chapter 3 There was something about Greta, something

strange.

Her friendly facade was tarnished by an unusual method of reprimand.

No more pudding for you.

A method she enjoyed exercising on various family members, particularly Mr.

Cromwell.

Aye, you've been a bad boy and you need to be punished.

Yes,

yes, please punish me. I need it now.

Greta had stripped Cromwell naked and had shackled him to the bedpost.

The large wooden spoon. She emphasized her displeasure.

Punish me, please.

I deserve it.

I do.

Well, you can lick this.

She said as she straddled his face and thrusted her muff into his pleading

mouth.

You're going to have to satisfy me first before I'll let you pleasure yourself.

Stick that tongue out.

That's better.

Let me see it.

Look it.

Lick it.

Lick it.

Lick it. You miserable little worm.

You call that a licking? Let me see your tongue.

Stick it out. Stick it out.

Try it again, you little worm.

Greta had a certain way with words and occasionally was known to repeat

Lick it.

Lick it.

Lick it.

Oh.

Jonathan, on the other hand, had his own way with words.

Lick it, for Christ's sakes. Lick it. Jonathan, leave me alone. Come on, you

little tease. Just think of it as a banana and then wrap those succulent

lips around it and nibble on the tip like a banana. Come on, I've seen you.

No. Well, then, touch it. Touch it.

Give me your hand. Touch it. No, it'll spit at me. It won't, I promise.

No. I've got it.

Show me a little. Yeah, that's it. Show me some of those firm young bonbons.

Come on, dammit, for Christ's sake, show me your tips.

Take that, you little worm.

Oh, stop.

Oh, no.

You're torturing me.

More pudding, you new...

Greta's control over Cromwell increased with every stroke, and the episodes

between them continued on and on into the countless times, eventually

Jonathan and even Cindy.

I love hair pie.

I'm hungry.

Is this real?

It's real if you want it to be.

If you want dessert now, time for me to feed you yours.

We'll make pudding.

We'll make tapioca pudding.

Bye. Bye.

Oh, yes, little mast.

I'm going to...

Such wonderful servants.

What a way to spend the evening.

Just a lovely little evening with family.

What about death?

The Cromwell family.

The recorder.

Of course.

It's been on all this time.

Greta's control over Cromwell increased with every

stroke, and the episodes between them continued on and on into countless

eventually involving Jonathan and even Cindy.

It was then that I finally realized what Greta was doing.

She had become more than a friend to me.

She had saved me.

The secret love affair that I had with Jason would no longer have to be kept

hidden. Greta had seen to that.

But there was nothing between Jason and I that could even come close to the

bizarre encounters between Greta and the Comwells.

Our love could now blossom beyond shame and guilt, beyond the hidden glances and

stolen embraces.

And blossom it did.

Thanks to Greta, it could now dance free in the sun and flourish in the fresh

air, never to be hidden again.

I was kind of worried, too.

Could you do me a small favor?

I feel you, Molly.

I feel... close to you.

I very much like you, Molly.

My desire for Jason had grown by what it fed on.

The more I had him, the more I wanted him.

I would playfully tease him while I did my chores, and then would run off to the

attic room and wait for him.

As I waited, I would write.

And my mum was, and it was then that he would always come to me.

Hello, Jason.

Oh, I've missed you, Molly.

I've been waiting for you. I know.

We don't have to hide anymore.

No.

Were you writing?

No, not really. I was reading.

You write beautifully, Molly.

Don't ever stop writing.

Am I Molly?

You're my princess and I love you.

And I love you, Jason.

And I always have.

I always want to be with you.

I'll always be here.

Amen.

Thank you.

Oh.

Thank you.

I'm going.

I'm going.

I'm going.

Amen.

I must go now, Molly.

Oh, will you be back?

Oh, I'll always be here when you write to me.

Oh, I love the way you write.

Jason?

Author's note.

The entries in the diary have ended.

And I'm at a loss of how to continue my story.

I do know one thing.

I'm in love with Jason.

And my love for him grows with every waking moment.

I've considered the possibility that I've gone mad.

Or maybe I am Molly.

I don't seem to know.

I do know that the visions have disappeared, and I'm lonely without him.

But I remember he said one thing.

He would always return to me when I write.

Merry Christmas, Molly.

Thank you, Jason.

Merry Christmas to you. Are you writing again?

That ends.

Good. I love the way you write.

So the place is only going to be available until the end of the summer.

Then they're going to tear it down and make room for the freeway.

Well, Mr. Beasley... Well, call me Ned.

Everybody in town calls me Ned.

All right, Ned.

This place is just perfect for my needs.

I'll take it.

You will?

Fine.

What was that you say you do again?

I'm a writer.

I'm trying to finish my new book.

and I need some inspiration.

This place is just perfect.

Merry Christmas, Molly, he said as he took my head in his hands and kissed me

lightly on the forehead, then firmly on my lips, sending a shiver of delight

into my very soul.