Original subtitles

sun -picked golden beaches warm clear blue waters hot tropical nights

and lazy fun -filled days that's the caribbean aruba guadalupe

cinquix antigua i fell in love with those exotic sounding names as a kid

when bob that's my husband discovered his grandfather had left him a tidy sum

his will

We decided to let my dreams come true and buy our own little place in the sun.

So, Mr. Rackleton, this is it.

Twenty acres of ground, two pools front and back, plus a hot tub, three ensuite

bedrooms and a great view.

The cheapest spot of beach down there, if you can get down to it.

Oh, fabulous, Bob. What do you think? Do you like it?

No, it's terrible.

No, it's good.

Do you want it?

Well, David.

It's decided, then. Good, good.

But, Mr. Jones, what about the price again?

It's $150 ,000 US.

It's, uh, just amazing.

A barman's got one of that in New York City.

Yes, well, the family of Miss Van Hiller wanted it sold quickly.

Oh, really? The lady in the office said it had been in the market for two years.

Why, is the place haunted? Oh, no, no, no.

Nothing like that.

Just we couldn't find the right buyer, that's all.

Look, there's some furniture in the house.

What day you enjoy the weekend here?

Today's Friday.

I'll get the furniture moved next week, and you can come and see me in the

office on Monday and sign the papers.

Perfect. It's just perfect.

Well, then, thank you very much, Mr. Raffleton. Thank you. Mrs. Raffleton.

Finish me, Bob.

What do you mean?

Tell me to snap out of it.

Is this real or is it heaven?

Have we ever really just bought this place?

Well, I've just agreed to buy it.

Haven't I?

Oh, I love you so much.

I know you do, baby.

I know you do.

When I was making breakfast, it started.

Thank you.

I didn't know if I was hallucinating or going mad.

The girls had seemed so real.

Bob was still in bed eating breakfast.

I decided I needed some fresh air.

Thank you.

What do you mean?

Thank you.

Mmm. Mmm.

Mmm.

Yeah.

later that day.

What the hell are you doing here?

It's a private pool here. What are you doing here?

What are you doing, son?

Go, go, go, go, go, go. I'm married.

Keep going.

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

What happened here?

Oh, shit.

No.

Listen. No, listen to me.

I'm a good girl.

Thank you.

Oh.

You big fucking...

Yes, Dad.

What keeps you still on your job?

Oh, I'm filming.

I found this.

So, what's so special about this?

Look who it is, stupid.

See?

Lindsay Van Heller. That's the same woman that used to live here.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I found some of her pictures in one of the drawers.

And what's more, these books are really steamy. In fact, this stuff is

positively pornographic.

I don't know what a sex ride was like, but if these books had anything to go

then there was plenty of action between the sheets.

Yeah, I heard a little bit of imagination.

You want a drink?

Please. Listen to this.

Turquoise waves left the very end of the beach as the men approached her.

She could see the outline of their stiff coughs in their beach pants, and the

salt of them plunging deep into her ass in such a major wasteful excitement.

The sand between her toes is tingled. She wanted to be fucked.

Fucked as never before.

She wanted these guys to treat her like a slut. To use and abuse her.

And she'd enjoy it. Enjoy every one thing.

Depraved second of their lust.

Until she had drained every drop of cum from their bodies.

As I read from Lindsay Van Heller's book, the erotic vision she described

more real than anything I'd ever experienced before.

I was transported to that beach.

I watched it all happen. It was uncanny.

Thank you.

I was absorbed in the books. Every incident described seemed almost real to

They became like a drug.

When Bob went off to play golf, I found myself getting turned on reading more of

Lindsay Van Halen's blue passages.

The girls were teasers.

Wesley was sure of that.

Cock excited them and they liked to see a man beg for it.

As they convorted in front of him, Wesley slowly undid the crotch of his

and started to stroke his throbbing penis.

I love you.

It's nice.

No.

Thank you.

Angela?

What do you mean?

No, let me read for you.

Okay. The hotel poolside was crowded with all the literati.

The international jet set loved the play.

Beautiful women flaunting beautiful bodies at beautiful men.

Erika von Herkheimer needed a man.

No, she needed three men to set up by her love.

So she decided to make an entrance that would make her friends sit up.

What do you want? You want more ice in your glass?

Ice, please.

Okay.

Excuse

me.

Sir, your drink. Thank you.

Okay.

You see that?

Oh shit.

Frank, do you want to try this?

Oh, yeah. Come on.

Yeah.

Rob's cooked.

Come on, bitch.

Come on. Come on.

Look at this, baby.

Amazing. Amazing.

Come on.

Yeah. Oh, yes.

Arty, bitch, look at this.

Move your hand.

Move your hand.

It's hot, man. It's really hot.

Yeah, come on.

Arty, bitch, move your hand.

Oh yes!

Yes!

Oh, yeah.

Fucking good.

Fucking

good.

That's good, huh?

Come on, bitch, come on.

Yes.

Come

on.

Yes.

Yes.

Faster.

Yes.

Yes, Frankie. Yes.

Oh!

Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah. It's fucking good. Oh, wonderful.

Oh, look at this.

Their hot spoon ran

down her throat and splashed over her lips.

Erica found her comma was ecstatic.

It felt good, and for the first time at least, she was satisfied.

Phew, steamy, eh?

Oh, this stuff may seem dirty to you, but I've never read a book that seems so

vivid to me. Sometimes it feels as if I'm now.

Stella? Can I ask you something?

Have you felt anything strange about these things removing?

What I mean?

Have you seen anything strange?

So I'm not going mad.

You've seen things too.

Well, I was going to tell you about this.

You see, yesterday...

Thank you.

I'm sorry, Mrs Raffleson, I should have told you about this place, but I rather

hoped you'd put the ghost to rest.

I didn't believe in ghosts until now.

Yes, yes.

We've always had a problem with this place.

I'm sorry, you see, Lindsay Van Heller was something of a wild child.

There was always talk of the orgies, the parties she used to throw here, her

numerous string of lovers.

Some say she committed suicide.

Some say she was murdered, that her body was washed out to sea from those rocks

and became supper for the sharks.

So the incidents in the book aren't exactly fiction, then? Oh, no. Oh, no.

Who's a wild child? That one of every wild child.

Anyway, I'm sorry.

Goodbye, George.

Goodbye.