All language subtitles for Memoires of a Chamber Maid xxx

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.