Original subtitles

Mrs. Daniels?

Call me Bree.

Scotch? Or would you prefer a vodka neat?

Uh, water, please?

Hmm.

Thanks.

Oh, hey, um, I just wanted to say I'm really excited about having my portrait

painted. I mean, I've had my picture taken a million times, but I've never

been painted before.

Daniel said that you were looking for a model. I was just happy that you liked

my look.

My husband said you modeled for Calvin Moday.

I saw the photos.

I was just a kid. You know, I was 18 years old, and I honestly couldn't

believe that they wanted me, a little old farm girl, to go and model for them

in Paris, of all places. I mean, it was the most insane year of my life.

The money must have been great.

I'm surprised they hired you on for how short you are.

Oh, yeah.

I was their most petite model.

But that was not the problem.

They actually required you to work both print and runway.

But every single time that I would get up there on stage and the music would

start playing, I would just freeze.

You're shy?

Yeah, I... I guess so.

I mean, it was just something about the flashing of the cameras and, I mean,

Calvin's underwear are very... skimpy.

I mean, very European.

Well, it's just you and me here today, so hopefully you won't feel too nervous.

Your husband is at home?

No, he usually stays at the office late on weekdays.

Do you work?

God, no. He says working as a mother and a wife is more than a full-time job.

Oh, well, at least you have your hobbies. And I have several girlfriends

who share the same interests.

I keep busy.

Well, I hope I live up to your standards.

My modeling career was a very long time ago, but hopefully I still got it.

You're gorgeous. You must know it.

You're not fishing for a compliment, are you?

Busted. I guess it's been a while since someone complimented me.

I would think your husband would call you gorgeous all the time.

Oh, Mr. Daniels didn't tell you.

Hmm.

Well, I was married, but not to a man.

To a woman.

Oh.

I thought Mr.

Daniels would have complained to you about all the extra time I needed to

take off since you left.

Not a word.

Well, it's pretty obvious he's annoyed.

I've never been a single mother before.

I've had to take off time to get my little boy enrolled in school and then

take care of all the legal stuff, too.

I'm not his biological mom, but I want full legal custody.

Isn't that sweet?

Thanks. It's nothing, really. I love him.

He's a really, really good kid.

It's just a shame all of the hoops you have to jump through.

Your husband has been so understanding about my time off.

So, when he said he was looking for a model so that you could practice your

portraits, I just knew that I had to be that person so that I could repay him

for all of his kindness.

He's a good man, and a good boss, too, so I hear.

Yeah, and he pays three times more than any of his competitors.

We're all really grateful for his generosity. No, no, no, no, no.

A moment on the lip, forever on the hip.

I suppose this sugar would bloat my face or something.

You are serious about your art.

We should get started.

Alright.

Right this way.

I'll tell you to my studio.

Wow, you have a muslin and lights. I mean, very impressive.

Um, so, should I sit here?

Stand on the pedestal.

Your face is oval.

It's the preferred shape for femininity.

Your lips are full and rosy.

Your green eyes have flecks of gold, amber, and hazel.

Thanks.

I want you to project a feeling with your face.

Show me something that exudes sex appeal.

Take off your sweater.

I thought you just needed a model to sit for your portrait.

I'm only asking you to take off your sweater.

And besides, even if I wanted you in your underwear, it covers just as much

as a bathing suit.

Are you going to want me in my underwear?

Oh dear, here we are.

Two women and you have an issue undressing in front of me.

Why don't you just go to work? I'll call my husband and tell him you're on the

way.

And I will find another model to sit for me. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Don't do

that. I'll take off my sweater.

I want you to think about who you are.

A stunning woman with lost opportunity.

A failed marriage, but you still have hope.

You're a woman of faith.

You believe God has plans for you.

Off.

Something big. Something successful.

Something just at the tip of your fingers.

I want your pose to reflect pain and hope.

I like that pose.

Both strong, yet vulnerable.

Tell me about a time a woman made you feel vulnerable.

The first time I fell in love, it was with a married woman.

I met her at a birthday party.

She was so warm and enchanting.

It was a posh outdoor cocktail party, and I was just looking for a friendly

face.

And that's when I saw her.

I walked up to her and I made an awkward joke.

Gosh, she was so beautiful.

She had a bit of mischief behind her gorgeous hazel eyes.

She wrote her cell phone number on a napkin and she gave it to me and

that was when I noticed the wedding ring on her finger.

I had really hoped for any and every possible situation.

I thought maybe she was in a really bad relationship.

Or maybe she was a new divorcee and she

just wanted to meet someone. But maybe she was looking for someone to

save her.

She was an older woman.

So beautiful.

But she would joke around sometimes about how she preferred to only sit at

candlelit dinners because it made her look younger.

Charming.

That was my India.

India, the woman who left you with the kids?

We've fallen in love and broken up so many times.

People always ask me...

And joke around about how much I can actually take.

But the truth is, I'll never be angry with her.

We live in this unusual cycle of her building me up just

to tear me down.

And you're asking me if she makes me feel vulnerable when I'm around her.

And the answer is, yes.

But vulnerable doesn't seem like a strong enough word. When I'm around her,

I no longer exist.

My entire existence is devoted to making her happy.

Every breath in my lungs is devoted to her. I breathe

for her.

I'll take a few pictures.

The oil will help the camera see the definition of your frame.

I only have you for 30 more minutes.

Do you want me to do it?

No. You don't know how.

It's warm.

It smells good.

Delicious, isn't it?

Jasmine, lavender, and aloe.

It's good for your skin.

We're going to get oil on your panties.

It's alright.

They're old anyway.

Take them off.

We're not on a runway in Paris.

Just me and you.

This would look so strange if my boss walked in.

You know, your husband.

I told you. He never comes home until

late.

It must be nice to have such a close relationship.

I love my husband, yes.

But I'm not in love with him.

Ever since I can remember, I've been attracted to women.

But I've never been with one.

Does your husband know you're gay?

Did I say I was gay, honey?

No, I love my husband.

I love our marriage, but our union isn't sexual.

That's the only shame.

I want to see you rub the oil on yourself after all.

Show me how you can get in every nook and crevice.

We need to capture your essence.

Generous, sweet, loyal, and suspicious.

If you're going to paint me naked, will you promise that no one will ever see

it?

Promise.

Allow me to speak plainly?

I... I think you're...

beautiful woman.

But I don't know why I'm taking off my clothes for you.

There's something about your presence. It's just so strong that

it almost makes me feel like I have no choice.

But you can scurry away whenever you want, my little mouse.

Mouse?

You.

So, you're the cat.

Meow.

I, uh, I have a lot of respect for your husband, and, um... And

you,

you're lovely.

Why do I get the feeling here that I'm not here to get my portrait painted?

You're not.

You're turned on, dripping wet.

Oh, okay. Why don't we, you know, take that picture that you were talking

about earlier. Isn't that why, you know, the lights are set up, you know?

Why don't you tell me why my husband hasn't fired you for all the days you've

missed at work?

Because he's an understanding man. I mean, he knows I have value and I work

off the clock when needed.

Where's your friend?

The one who used to share the cubicle with you?

Uh, I don't know.

He had two inexcusable absences last month.

This is not something I would ever consider.

I mean, you're a beautiful woman, but you're married, and I'm just not

that kind of woman.

And yet you stay.

Why don't you walk out the door?

Is it because you feel vulnerable around a woman you want but can't have?

I know you find me attractive. I can tell by how you look at me.

And is it possible I'm a little like India?

You have a thing for women you can't have.

I'm not asking for your heart.

I won't toy with you like India did.

I'm merely asking you to take off my clothes, fuck me slow, sit on my face,

and make me cum.

This can't be happening.

It's... It's too weird. I mean, your husband... There will be repercussions

for you if my husband finds out.

I need to be very clear.

I want you to have sex with me.

I do not want you to fall in love with me.

You're scaring me.

You're making me wet I can't I

need to be able to sleep at night knowing that I'm a good person

I want to see your pussy.

And if I have sex with you, it's just gonna be a one-time thing.

Can I kiss you?

You've made me wet since the moment you walked in my door.

Bye.

I want you on your knees beneath me.

Taste me.

Thank you.

I'm going to die.

Your pussy is beautiful and perfect.

My God, you're so perfect, but so insane.

Perfection requires a touch of madness.

Look at me with those pretty eyes

Lean back.

Now I'm going to sit on your face like you always wanted, right?

Keep driving.

You want it, don't you?