All language subtitles for The.Book.Of.Gabrielle.2016.1080P.WEB.x264

I've been drawing sex pictures since I
was about four.

I drew feet like mouths, like birds,
intensely ripped up tunics,

torn to reveal scars and rippling
muscles and pubic hair.

After getting very hot drawing these
pictures,

I was stuffing into books in my parents'
living room.

Into their over-thumbed copies of Saul
Bernard's novels.

One day, my dad discovered them and
pulled them out.

Honey! He's American.

These are fantastic.

Oh, wow, wow, wow!

He laughed and hugged me and squeezed me
tight.

He was so proud of his...

four-year-old pornographer.

I was full of shame.

A new heat of hot, angry embarrassment
and humiliation covered me.

I had been discovered.

I then ripped up the drawing, all of
them.

Did it affect my future sex life?

And what does that word mean?

Sex life.

We are just so excited to be presenting
this anthology of some of our most

favourite moments from this most
prolific and important of authors in

Britain. The wit of Saul Bernard has
taught us what a Jew is in Britain

today. He explores the conflict of being
an insider but also an outsider.

He dares to express it all and then
there's the sex.

Who's it for?

Shall I write that one?

I'm such a fan.

Thank you.

I mean, massive.

Very kind.

Do you know, I did know your mother.

Oh, really?

Dorothy Lachman.

Ah, fantastic.

Shall I put her name?

Claire and David.

My mum and dad.

Your parents?

Yes, they like you a lot.

Do you?

I do too.

I mean, since I was a child.

What, you read me as a child at the
first?

Well, I kind of dipped into certain
bits.

OK.

And, what, you still live at home?

No, I've managed to leave the nest.

Good for you.

So, to Claire and David.

Gabrielle.

Who's she?

It's me.

What have you got in there?

Too much.

Oh.

You write?

I'm making a graphic novel.

What's your book about?

About sex.

Good topic. One of my obsessions.

Yeah, I know.

I suppose you do.

It's a guidebook. Oh, you know a lot.

No, I'm still finding things out.

Lucky you.

Can I give you my email?

And if there's anything I can do in any
way, let me know.

Chapter 1.

My first sexual partner at ten.

Roberta Cooper was ten as well, and we
were neighbours.

We would play James Bond, especially
Sean Connery, and all the

spies that he had, and Henry VIII, and
all of his wives, and

Casanova, and every single conquest.

I would play the man.

And she would play all my many women,
one after the other.

Roberta would lie back and moan
perfectly.

And I had the most amazing orgasm.

What? I know the reading in bed with the
cuffs are too.

I like it.

It's what I've always wanted.

I'll have sex in a minute. I just want
to finish this tactic.

Okay.

What?

It's not like I'm desperate.

I don't know, I mean...

You make me sound like I'm a bit needy.

Like a boy that needs a handjob to calm
you down.

So?

But is that what I'm like?

I don't want to read anymore.

That's not really what I meant.

Well, why were you touching me then?

I know, just for me.

So obviously?

No. It was distracting.

I thought you were busy with your book.
I'm turned on.

But I never know when you were on it.

Well, good.

That's how it should be.

Yeah, I suppose you're right.

Oh, come on. You were into it a minute
ago.

I know, I just don't know what happened.

I met Olivia in the bookshop of an art
house cinema.

She was kneeling down, looking at some
erotic art.

And I crept up and I leant over her.

A bit like a Picasso drawing.

She is so young.

And it made me think, I was Picasso,
chatting up Marita Reyes outside the

Metro in Paris.

I've never been with someone young
before.

Is this some kind of fantasy?

But whose fantasy?

Is it a Saul Bernard fantasy?

And what am I doing in it?

Anyway, we are a reality.

And the old and the young thing is
there.

But it feels like something we squint at
in the corner of the room.

Who's he?

Paul Bernard.

What's he do?

He's a writer.

He's quite good looking, young girl.

Is that what you look like now?

No.

Well, I've always talked about it.

I probably still do.

That's what I thought I was going to do,
something talking.

Jews, yes, we talk, but ultimately we
write.

The word speaks, but the written word is
indefinable.

What do you like about it?

I really like its writing.

It's the grave undertaking, crafting
words, making order.

And I think that's why religion was
invented.

I remember the first time I had sex as
an adult.

It was with a boy, two years older than
me.

I was 18.

He was 20.

I was pleased.

I was finally doing the act of straight
sex.

He, too, had a James Bond fantasy,
except he wanted to be Roger Moore, and

I had to play all the women.

I can't remember if I made the same
groans as Roberta.

I think I felt too young.

I don't think I liked it that much.

Sometimes I would get on top and conjure
up the Vikings.

He seemed to like it, but no other
boyfriend ever did.

So I drifted away from men.

Hello.

Nice to see you.

I think you'll like this place.

What's that perfume?

It's a scent.

Perfume.

Or would I call it perfume?

Yeah, I suppose it is.

You like it? Yes, I went out with
someone that wore it.

Okay. A long time ago.

Right.

I really like it. It was the only thing
I liked about her.

A woman wore it?

Yeah, she was much older than me.

And she was older too.

We didn't get on.

It was horrible.

You're still all right with the smell.

Yeah, hook me in.

So how's your book coming?

It's starting slowly.

Good. Good for you.

Even slow is a miracle.

I'm a bit dried up.

Oh, well, I don't like saying this, but
I feel that I have nothing left to say.

So the fact that you do is special.

Keep hold of it.

Don't get scared.

So tell me, what kind of sex are we
talking about?

What you and I?

In the book.

So what do you know?

Not much.

Okay.

I just thought that was a good place to
begin.

Do you have a publisher?

No.

So what's the plan?

Um, to write it and then try and find a
way to get it out there.

Without any kind of... Vape to net?

Or the fact that no one might really
want it. You're just doing it.

Of course.

I always find the way that people eat
very revealing.

I do too.

I'm waiting for you.

Better get a move on.

Well, we could go and smoke cigars in my
garden, or we could go for a...

What could we do?

We could find another place and have a
coffee, or...

We could go back to your place in a
taxi.

I have no more suggestions.

Oh, God, this is a bit early, isn't it,
for this kind of stuff?

I've never had a cigar.

Oh, they're amusing.

Do you want me to teach you?

Maybe when I come and show you my work,
perhaps.

Okay, I hear you.

I think that's right, you know, regards
then.

Maybe.

Yep.

You're Jewish, aren't you?

Yes. Okay.

I thought you knew that.

Just checking.

Why?

The hesitancy, the come on, the turn
off.

Really, is that a Jewish thing?

It happens to me with Jewish women.

What's it?

The reason I think he's so loud.

Yeah?

I was just thinking about this series on
TV when I was very young,

and I think it messed up my sex life.

Oh.

It was about bankers, stern men.

They had cheated on their wives with
mysticism.

And they waited for them.

And it was all very hushed up.

And there was this woman.

She was kind of lying in bed with her
lover.

And very posh.

Actually, maybe they weren't in bed.

And the woman was very upset.

She was very troubled.

He didn't come, she said.

And the man answered very seriously,
like it was such a terrible thing, you

know. I'm so sorry.

I just couldn't come, she continued.
Like, it's getting so irate.

And I just thought, what is he saying?
You know, I was about four at the time.

I mean, he's there, he's there. They're
lying next to each other.

They're so sweet.

I just thought, why do adults get so
serious and so intense about whether

they cum or not?

I suppose

in our

work, we all have our repeating inner
theme.

And I'm beginning to think that mine is
my inner penis.

When I discovered that it really
existed, I felt calm.

That my clitoris was the same as the tip
of a man's penis.

That's what I read in the new books on
anatomy.

That the woman's sex drive is huge.

And that her clitoris is just the tip of
the iceberg.

We both want to thrust.

We both want to be taken to.

Thrust in into the air.

Well, it's hard.

So what really draws you to my writing?
Tell me.

I'm interested.

Well... When I...

Think I like to get off and I'd like to
not get off on what I imagine you do

What bit?

When I I really gonna say this well try
and let's see

When I go inside and I thought this is
ridiculous well say what that is

come on Well, I'm the man with the big
penis and

he's the woman lucky me Like, what
happens with you?

What, you feel like the man?

Yep.

I get off feeling like the dominant man.

Or actually, I used to, because now I
like feeling like the woman with the

dominant man, but it's with someone
younger.

What, who's the patriarch?

Yep, she's been you.

Does she know that?

I haven't asked her.

But I think it's a trap.

I'm using the book to force myself out
of it.

This is the aim of it.

Well, who's going to want to read that?

I would.

Now, that is a no-no.

A cardinal sin, you know that.

What, to write for oneself?

Yes.

Well, I'm going to do it.

I'm going to do everything wrong.

I want to stop using my penis and sex.

You never say cock.

You can do.

Well, why don't you just have a man?

That would be even worse.

Okay.

I've not got a problem with men. I like
men.

So do I.

Okay. But I wouldn't want a man.

Don't near me.

Inside you.

I'm trying to imagine it. Let's see.

Well, I can't imagine getting my legs
up.

I have thought about it, but actually
taking a cock up my ass?

I've never enjoyed anal stuff.

Some men like it.

Not me.

Maybe I should think about anal sex
more.

I wonder why I don't. Men should.

I mean...

We are messed up. I mean, truly.

Maybe if we thought about anal sex more,
the world wouldn't be so screwed up.

Maybe it's our greatest fear.

Listen, don't you want to go on your
own?

No.

Okay. Don't you want to come?

Oh, who's going to be there?

I don't know.

Frankie.

Jonah. They did the bit.

What?

What? Don't you feel like going on your
own?

Why don't you want to come?

I don't know. I've always found chasing
around a bit tiring.

I mean, I know what I'm doing.

You like it.

Yes, I like it.

But?

But you've all got your own groom.

It's not what anyone thinks except you.

Please come.

I want to snuggle.

Where?

In a club.

Yeah? Mm-hmm. In front of your friends?
Yeah.

I'm a liking you.

Mm-hmm.

Don't want to hear no tonight.

Can I see a picture of her?

Who? Your girlfriend.

Really?

Come on.

Have you got a picture of her?

Maybe.

Okay. Oh, I'm just... I'm not sure I've
got good on.

I'm just intrigued.

I want to see her.

Okay, I mean, this is her looking.

Oh, come on.

No, it's not good.

It's okay.

No, she's in the middle of getting
dressed. She's nearly... Not naked.

Yes. It's great.

No.

Okay, this one.

What?

Well, it's not what I thought.

Why? I don't know. I just thought she'd
be more... What?

Don't fix them at all. I just want to
see one that... Aha!

Very nice.

Look, she's looking at you. So sweet.

Sweet? Yes, I use the word sweet.

It touches me.

It's love, isn't it?

Don't you want to be in love?

On being a gay man.

You see, I fantasize about being a gay
man a lot of the time.

I have this kind of chiseled jaw.

Tussled hair.

Reddish blonde tussled hair.

And glistening dark brown eyes.

And I wear very...

Tailored boots.

I'm a lawyer.

And I do really huge, intense cases.

I'm very powerful.

I have a boyfriend.

And I'm incredibly monogamous with him.

And we are still so hot for each other.

He's about eight years younger than me.
Yeah.

And he's, um...

He's a model.

And he's also a photographer.

And he does these really beautiful shots
of, like, older people. Yeah,

that's right.

And they're always looking just slightly
off camera.

And they've got this light in their
faces.

And I love the way that he begs me to
allow

him,

Just suck me off in the most lurid of
places.

And we are in love.

And we are in heaven.

Why are you standing like that?

I wonder if you'd like to go down with
me right now.

It's okay.

I'm just putting it out there.

Right now?

I'm not taking this as a rejection.

Good. Because it's not.

I know.

Sex doesn't have to be about doing it,
it's about saying...

I'm here feeling lots of things and I'm
letting myself feel them.

Good.

Is it putting you off?

Slightly.

I don't know if I'm very high or I'm on
the verge of depression.

remember the woman with perfume.

I used to irritate her by telling her,
she taught me sex.

She'd hate that.

I found her terrifying, actually.

I kept trying to leave her.

And we were both suffocating in a really
torturous cycle.

And then, of course, we'd get back.

And it was amazing.

Replenishing.

And then I'd want to escape her
insecurities again.

Her rage at life.

It was like vodka.

It was the relief.

Each time we'd see each other after
another war.

We were addicted to that moment.

You like drawing men?

Yeah.

More than women?

I think I do.

You've got good faith.

Thank you.

It reminds me of me.

Really?

Mmm, it's the eyes, something.

Maybe it's the shape of the face.

Why do you find drawing women harder?

I don't know, I just get a bit more
fussy about how it's going to turn out.

Actually, I find drawing men from life
harder.

I think it's easier to draw women from
life.

But if it's out of my head, I usually go
to men.

So, now?

Now it's not working so well.

So you've just got a huge store of men
in your head that you want to let out?

Yeah, something like that.

You'd rather look away?

I think it's easier from memory.

It's hard when I look at you, it just
doesn't work so well.

But it's still a nice feeling, having
you draw.

I tend to grip the pen.

I curl my thumb around the pen and I
squeeze really tightly.

And the more I draw and move the pen,
the more kind of excited my hand gets.

as the muscles are squeezed and the wet
ink pours onto white sheets of paper.

I begin to breathe, actually, more
deeply, as I find meaning.

I see a lip on the page.

I want to run my finger over it.

I see an eye.

I want it to gaze on me, an arm.

I want to hold on to it.

A leg, two legs. I want them to bend
around my waist.

The height of my hand is desperate for
me to let

go and just relax.

I love you.

I fucked up.

What have you done?

Don't tell me. I'm going to be so upset.

Olivia.

Don't mess things up right now. I've got
a meeting tomorrow.

We've fucked it up already.

Do we really need to talk about this?
There's a drawer upstairs.

So it's falling all over it.

And water's built on it.

Is that it?

Isn't that really bad for your book?

Come here.

It's fine.

They're just ideas. You probably made it
better.

You didn't go crazy at the party.

I wish you were there.

It was boring.

Everyone was taking drugs and buying
drinks. I just got drunk.

I wish I hadn't gone.

I love you so much.

I want to be here with you forever.

I've heard good things about you.

Good?

They are good.

I'm just thinking how...

How are we going to sell it?

Sex isn't easy.

It doesn't sell anymore?

Oddly not.

Really?

Is that why you were doing it? No, but I
just thought sex was selling up until

today. I don't know.

That's what they say.

The men in suits.

The ones that pay me.

I thought they liked sex.

You'd think they would.

I'm just not sure they want.

Hand-drawn sex.

I think porn's worn us all out.

I'm just not sure.

I don't know enough.

I think sex needs to veer into SM,
doesn't it?

Sado, masochism, bondage and...
Domination? Yes.

Isn't it discipline?

Which I don't know. I think that's what
it is.

The D.

Is that something you can do?

Well, not as good as domination, but,
you know, I can give it a go.

I don't really do either.

How's Saul?

He's very dominating.

Yes, of course.

I think you're his latest star.

Enjoy it while you can.

He's truly inspired by you and your
book.

He does pick up people.

But he's got a thing for you.

I did have a one-night stand with a girl
who was into SM.

Her small flat was very neat.

And bizarrely, she only had a single
bed.

She gave me a safe word.

But then she ordered me to make her
come.

I tried the safe word, but she chose not
to listen.

And her orgasm was like a little baby
lamb, bleating on the hillside, small

and gentle.

Various maneuvers took place.

She had very small fingers.

I could hardly feel them.

And then she slapped me.

She went out and washed herself.

Came back and said she had to go to
work. She was a surgeon.

That bit I found very exciting.

So you flacked each other?

Yes. In a good way?

Yeah, it was meant to be.

I've never met a woman that would let me
do that.

On the face?

Yeah.

Yeah, just... I mean, it wasn't very
hard. It was just like that, you know,

not very hard.

Just as I was about to let go, it kind
of came out of nowhere.

I kind of liked it.

And I suppose it could have come at a
different time.

Is there a better time for a slap?

I don't know, you know, to force me to
get into it, to stop my thoughts.

Yeah, that's a bit harsh.

Yeah. No, that is. Maybe that's not the
right kind of slap.

You know, my mum always slapped me when
my period started.

What? Yeah.

Isn't that what they do? Who?

The Jews.

What? When the girl's period starts.

Um, I've never heard of it.

Well, I went to my mum because I didn't
know what it was. I said, Mummy, I've

got something funny.

And she smiled and then she took me into
the bathroom and she said, look, this is

going to be really odd, but I have to do
it. And then she really just slapped me

in the face.

And then she kissed me and smiled again.

And it was a Jewish thing she said.

The mother slaps the daughter.

That's kind of abuse.

No, that's what Jews do.

No, they don't. What kind of Jew does
that?

My mum said it was a custom. I mean, she
is a feminist, but she really thought

she had to do it. Well, I've never heard
of that kind of ritual.

Well, you're a boy. They don't do that
to boys. Excuse me, they cut off bits of

our dick, so you've got to fly me.

You don't do that face.

What face?

That one.

I feel like your mother.

Is it right?

I know, but I'm half getting off on it.

That's okay.

No, it isn't, because it's a bit
preferred.

Stop it.

She's having a nice time.

Why are you talking in a baby voice?

I don't know.

I can't stop.

You're small.

Oh, you're so cute.

Stop it.

I love you.

I think it's too much.

Too much what?

Don't you like too much?

Well, it's a little overwhelming.

Yes, but when you do too much... Yeah,
maybe.

A woman's too much is... It's very odd.

Were you expecting someone?

No.

Maybe it's someone selling something or
flyers.

Yeah.

Or maybe it's a package.

Hello.

Hi. I'm just, um... What?

I'm in the middle of something.

You always are. Can we go to lunch?
Well, I have a friend here.

Oh. What kind of friend?

I'm helping her. With what?

Hi. Hi.

Again? No, Fiona. This is a friend. A
friend.

Not Fiona, sweetheart.

This is Gabrielle, and she's a very
good... What?

Well, artist, writer.

What would you say?

I draw.

Oh.

Sorry.

Okay.

And... This is Fiona, my daughter.

I was near the area seeing a doctor.

What call?

Mum paid for me to see someone and they
said that I should take antidepressants,

really heavy ones, because she said I
was so hyper.

Like your mother?

No, the psychotherapist. She was making
me hyper.

Did she do that?

She did a questionnaire.

She said it would be good if I take the
pills and see a specialist.

It's okay.

Well, what do you want?

Have you got a cigarette?

No, of course not.

I have.

You smoke?

So? Well, I didn't think you would.

Well, and it's okay if I do?

Here, you can have them.

Why? I don't smoke.

Why don't you buy them?

I was nervous last night. They didn't
work.

They work for me, thanks.

I hate reading his book.

Have you read them all?

Yeah,

my mum and I bonded over them once on
holiday.

It was the first holiday of my life.

I was 14 and we just went to this house
and we just smoked and sat around

drinking wine and reading Dad and going
for walks and discussing men and Jews

and patriarchy.

He doesn't know what it's like to be a
father. I don't even know what that word

is. Neither does he.

Why?

He's just not around. He never has been.

He doesn't want to know me.

My mum only had me to keep him and then
he fled.

She claims that it was the first time he
saw her breastfeeding me that he went

off with his agent or his lawyer or
something.

Do you want to date my dad?

No.

So what is this, a work thing?

It started... Yeah, I suppose it is. I
mean, he took an interest in my book and

he's... And then he lost it, like he
does with everything.

Really?

He's got to be up to something, though.

He thinks about sex all the time. It's
his line of work.

Posh porn.

So it's not a story?

No, it's a guidebook based around
drawing.

But it could be narrative.

All guidebooks are in some way
narrative.

Yeah.

Yes.

I mean, the way you tell it feels
vaguely narrative, but you don't grip

it. It's as if you don't want to tell a
story.

Tell a story?

Give a story.

When I had a story, when I found that I
could do it well and people actually

wanted to listen and they wanted to buy
my story, then I realised that I could

give good story.

Give good story.

Yes. Give a good story.

You know what I mean. The art, the
desire, the need to hold an audience

wrapped in partaking of your work.

I know what you're trying to say.

But I don't think you do.

It's the craft, the delight in plucking
words and placing them niftily to create

a ripple of tension as you uncover
truths.

Giving good story is not the only way of
doing that.

You see, I knew it.

What are you discovering?

Your resistance.

Story is what we grew up with for
centuries, eons. It's the first thing.

It's a cult. It's not a cult.

Why don't you even say A story, but
you're saying story without the A?

I'm disappointed in you.

You're very resistant to learning rules,
traditions even, that might actually

help you unlock something.

There's such petulance in you.

Making a book of drawings is all good as
a place for illustration, but to change

old men like me, you need a story.

You see, I don't think you would listen,
even if I did do story.

I would listen?

Yes, you would listen, perhaps for a
bit, but I could never change you.

I don't want to change.

I have no need to. Everything works
fine. Why break it?

So, after trying boys...

I went back to golf.

I was with my first girlfriend as an
adult.

We were both 21.

She was tall and lanky.

And she looked at me as I was playing
Sean Connery again.

And she said, what are you doing?

Or worse, I think she laughed at me.

Is that how you do it?

What?

Is that what you do when you get an
orgasm?

And she laughed again.

She was my first adult love.

And she was laughing at me.

And you know what?

It kind of wasn't good.

It kind of messed up my head.

And then she would be desperate for me
to come with her.

Over and over she tried the same
expression as

if she was watching a tumble-trier.

I couldn't satisfy her with some heroic
ending.

Is that why I hate story?

Giving good story.

I can't blame my parents.

Who says you can't?

I've made my living blaming my parents.

Maybe we need more of that in the book.

Let's talk about your parents, hmm?

Let's get into them. Which bit?

The fuck-up bit.

I thought it was sacrilegious to blame
the parents for the mess you're in.

Is it? I mean, with Fiona, had you been
around more?

Listen, I wanted to be around, but I was
blocked out. I was frozen out by her

mother.

Yeah, I fucked her up.

To be honest, Gabrielle, I didn't want
to be a dad. I love ejaculating. I hate

sperm. I hate making babies.

That's huge.

I want to know what your mother says at
the foot of the bed when your

girlfriend's going down on you.

I want to know what your father whispers
in your ear the last time you let a man

come inside you.

I don't want to go there. No, this is
going to help. It's going to unblock

things. I tell you, you have to kill
your parents, totally metaphorically.

And by killing them, you give them life.

As a child, you give the parent life.

You have to stop being a daughter in
order to have good sex.

They have to stop being mummy and daddy
in order to get any decent connection

back.

You're such a Jew and you're not letting
them get out of your head.

Oh, look, Gabrielle.

I can mother you better than I could
ever father my own daughter.

I don't know why, I don't know what game
God is playing with us right now, but

it's all this.

I think it's the answer we've both been
looking for.

Does he want me to kill him?

Does the prospect of being silent
actually excite him?

Like the little death?

Look pretty more.

Maybe he's had enough of power and
getting his own way.

Is he lying, frustrated now, desperate
for me to become him,

to take over?

But I don't want to.

I don't want to be him anymore.

Why are you telling him stuff?

I'm just working it out.

I don't trust him.

Or you.

It's just, that's what he's used to.

How do you know?

Dodgy guy.

You know, big deal.

He's someone big.

No, I'm just... What?

What are you getting out of it?

Do you fancy him?

No.

Yes, you do.

I don't. Oh, that's thick.

I don't. I didn't say I did.

You've always had a weird thing about
older men, haven't you?

Well, now you've got a famous one.

He's actually helping me.

He's getting off on you.

Your investigation, your confessions.

No, he's not.

Don't tell him anything about us.

All right, whatever you've told him
about us, no more.

Just leave it there, okay?

Do you think you're good at sex?

What does that mean?

I like the question.

I don't think I am.

That's why we write.

Perhaps.

I think I thought it was the most
important thing, you know? It's about

being alive.

I'm really scared of dying. I hate
planning.

And, um... You know, things fell my way
if

I made ways not to think about them. And
sex became that thing.

That's true.

Spoken like a man.

No, spoken like a woman.

Not anyone, but I know.

Really? You sure?

Okay. Spoken well.

Sorry.

But now I want to be much quieter about
it.

Quiet?

Really?

Maybe that's what I'm being.

And I struggle, but maybe that's okay.

Of course, one of the disasters of sex
is that it's probably like food.

I mean, with food, We can sample lots of
different cuisines. We can eat out. We

can overindulge. We can deprive
ourselves.

But sex in a couple, it's like the same
dish over and over again.

It's usually even overcooked.

Once we've had our first fuck months or
even years, perhaps, of who are you, I

want your identity smeared all over my
lips. After that, we get to that place.

Oh, yeah.

Some like to say we're still sexual.

And it's the majority of couples who
aren't. Who really aren't.

The majority of couples for whom sex
just isn't important anymore.

Comfort is.

Safety is.

And who knows?

Maybe they're right.

Do you want my flat?

What for?

Have some fun.

I've got a flat.

I know, but you could have some fun.

Jessica keeps talking about you.

Does she?

She likes your work.

No, she doesn't. Yes, she does. She
likes your line.

She's opening up to your pen.

I'll leave you the keys.

I've already told Jessica to come round
and see you.

Why?

Well, don't do it if you don't want.

If you feel scared, if you feel it's not
going to help.

You mean for the book?

Well, I don't know.

For me, sex and work works.

It does. It's just another no-no that's
actually a yes.

Sometimes I feel Olivia is the

epitome of my male ink fantasy.

And maybe that's the reason why I'm not
really working anymore.

I can't deny fantasy is exciting.

We've just got stuck trying to change
each other and

being frustrated by it not happening.

Where are you going?

Waking up.

Already? Yeah.

You're really... What?

You're really going already.

Yeah.

Is that okay?

Yeah.

Are you not busy today?

No.

That was rather quick.

Was it?

What did you expect?

I don't think I wanted to. I expected a
little bit more.

What?

You put your order out of the wrong
basket.

Why did you say that?

What?

You just uttered a really tired cliché.

It's not a cliché.

I think it's true.

What, do you think I should be looking
elsewhere?

For what?

I don't know, you tell me.

What did you think I meant?

I don't know, I'm just lying here and
you could eggs in one basket.

I've got to go.

You need to look for something else.

It's not a big deal.

We broke up.

Really?

When?

Three weeks ago.

Well, I have seen you since.

You never told me. You told me it was
good.

I miss her.

Where is she?

I mean, do you see her?

We keep seeing each other.

What happens?

I saw her last night.

Why?

We met because she needed a rucksack.
It's broken, but she wants it back.

Where did you meet?

At a hamburger restaurant.

Oh, so you ate together?

Hamburgers.

I wore a skirt.

The one with zips?

Yes.

I like that one.

When did you see it?

You wore it last week.

Did I?

You look good in it.

Okay, well, I was trying to look good.

And you wore the black shirt.

Top two button. I'm done.

You don't forget things.

I just know when you look good, when you
try, you look good.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

Breakup sex is often the best sex.

You've returned back to zero.

You're saying goodbye, but you're
actually also saying hello.

Maybe they've even got someone new.

And this pure jealousy makes you want to
wrap her into you.

Of course, it feels like you'll get back
together.

And this time, it will work.

It will be perfect even.

But perfection isn't good, is it?

It's actually unhealthy.

Breakup sex is the worst sex.

Because everyone has told you how awful
she is.

How much better you are without her.

How many fish there are in the sea,
waiting with open mouths and open eyes,

open to be gobbled up by you.

But of course, not true.

You are lonely. You are so desperately
lonely.

So when she walks back in, you don't let
her go.

And it starts all over again.

It's exactly the same.

He never had any food.

Though he's a great cook.

Is he?

Hasn't he cooked for you?

No. You're great.

He loves his apron.

Do you like cooking?

No.

I mean, I'd like to. I should. I come
from a family of cooks.

But I don't.

I like eating out.

I like reading recipes and fantasising.

I do too.

Do you ever try?

Sometimes. I enjoy it when I do.

I've wanted to.

For a long time.

What have you wanted?

I like it.

I like it too.

I don't know where I'm taking you.

I've not ventured this far.

I felt convinced something was going on
between you two.

No. That's not me.

Really?

You'd let that stop you?

I could do.

Nothing's happened, not at all.

I did.

With Saul?

Yes.

On and off for five years.

We kept it secret.

We both had significant others in our
lives at the time.

We had something very special.

He broke it off and then I tried to get
married.

I can't.

I can't take this any further.

Boop.

You've got that same scent on, Saul.

Hmm.

Maybe I should take the hint.

Can I come in?

Cool.

What are you doing?

Have you time to teach me how to smoke a
cigar?

What, do you want to have a lesson now?

Yes, you offered.

Yes, but that was when I had cigars.

What?

You really want one?

Yes.

Well, that means I'm going to have to go
and buy some.

Shall I?

Yes.

Okay.

Any particular reason?

Why do people smoke cigars?

Good question.

My lesbianism waned in the presence of
Philip, the senior tutor.

We hadn't yet fucked.

We teased each other instead.

One night on campus, Janet came to see
me.

Our affair was overawed and hyper.

I was held against her overwet mound.

I could taste blood.

Keep going, she demanded as she slapped
me hard across my face.

She came with a Viking-like roar and
laughed.

It's a Jewish thing, she said.

Then she prized me apart and fucked me
till I choked.

I looked up and I saw Philip in the
doorway.

He looked concerned. I wanted him to
take over and rescue me.

It's a first draft.

I'd rather you haven't.

Me too.

I don't suppose you want a lesson now?

It might make me feel sick.

Come on.

I find you fascinating.

Is that a problem?

No, it's a brain lightening.

Good.

Not in a good way.

I'm sorry to keep you waiting.

I don't care what sells anymore.

I like it.

I'm sorry about running off.

You don't have to apologize.

No, I ran off in an unfortunate way.

I regretted it.

Well, I think it was odd to think it
through. I mean, I suppose it was funny.

I'm a little old for that.

Are you?

Well...

We needed a push, both of us.

I like your book.

I want it.

That's fantastic.

Oh, so sex sells now. I'm not sure. I
don't care.

Sorry.

Do you mind if we can sign?

I know, yeah.

Thank you.

Thank you.

We're thrilled and exhilarated to have
you here to, well, raise a glass to, or

perhaps have an in-depth look at, or
even put a lingering finger on, our new

guide, How to Do It.

I, for one, have always wanted a book
that kind of teaches me about sex, but

doesn't actually tell me what to do. And
so you kind of want an openness and an

honesty when you're going to deal with
kind of one of life's greatest

pleasures, really.

That place where you learn about
yourself.

So here's to you, Gabrielle.

I think tonight has started something
really special.

It's great.

Bye.

So? So.

You did it.

I'm incredibly proud.

I'm so glad you came.

Ah, it all worked out.

It's, um... Yeah, it's perfect somehow.

And I've learned something huge about
letting go and, um, looking to

the side with lines in between and
around.

And I'm very hopeful.

Excited to feel life again.

What was my first instinct that made me
want to mark the page?

The one I had even before I drew
Vikings.

The first line, the first dot of the
dot.

The deep hum of satisfaction I got from
drawing.

I think it was the joy of being
vulnerable.

Letting mistakes just happen.

I really want it back now.

You know, I want to go right back, even
further back, to when women drew in the

first scroll and made their mark and
imprint, when they were revered and

listened to, and we all had the courage
to be peaceful with each other.

And for this era of nervous patriarchy,

I want to be vulnerable again I really
do