Original subtitles

He's not just a lover. He's an experience. He's a therapist. They call

him Mr. Nice Marcello Bravo.

I was 100% sure.

No.

No was my moment.

I couldn't hold it back any longer.

It was crystal clear to me I needed to make my own appointment

with Mr. Nice.

Of course he couldn't know.

He had no idea that his boss, the one behind the curtain, wanted to

be one of his clients.

But I did.

Even me, with almost a full psychology degree, even I had problems

buried deep inside.

Things I never talked about, things I couldn't fix.

Suddenly, I didn't want to control him from the screens anymore.

I wanted to feel what they felt.

I needed to know.

I was ready from this time.

It was my decision.

Today I can share much information.

She wants to remain anonymous.

All right.

You can send her over.

Yeah, sure.

I'm in the apartment C, as usual, right?

Don't be too hard on her.

Got it.

I will be gentle as usual to her.

Yeah, sure. No problem.

Bye.

They say he helps women feel again.

But not with soft words or gentle hands.

He reaches in the darkness and touches what they hide.

And he never flinches.

That's not why I came.

I came because something inside me is wrong.

Wild.

Wanting.

Starving for someone who won't run.

It started as silence.

Then numbness.

Then the pattern.

Every man who's tried to hold me.

I made them unravel.

Some begged.

Some broke.

Both just disappeared.

They call it drama.

Whisper curse.

But they don't know what it feels like.

I ache for permission to lose control.

My body obeys.

My lips perform.

But my soul?

My soul wants to be taken.

I didn't come to Marcello for healing.

I came to be undone.

To see if he could find that last locked part of me.

And rip it wide open.

Because Marcello, he doesn't ask.

He claims.

He doesn't tame women like me.

He breaks us.

Exactly how we've been begging to break.

And when he looks at me, I stop pretending.

I want to see everything.

To take everything.

To ruin what's left.

And then call it beautiful.

You haven't said much.

Usually, they start with a story.

Or a lie.

What if I prefer questions to lies?

All right, then.

So why did you come to me?

They say you are the only one who sees people as they are, not as they present

to be.

And what are you pretending to be?

I don't pretend.

That would scare them.

You sound like a riddle wrapped in silk.

And you listen like a man who used to be unrestrained.

I'm helping people to understand themselves.

Desire.

Guilt.

Pleasure.

Pain.

That's what I do.

No.

You read them.

You touch what they had.

But you never show your own skin.

Maybe I have nothing left for a tune.

Everyone hides something.

Even you, Mr. Knife.

And what are you hiding?

Not what.

Who.

That's very important.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

One more.

Can you feel it?

Fucked up.

That's what it felt like.

After a session with Mr. Niles.

Should I tell him the truth?

That it was me?

His boss?

I didn't know anymore.

Was it love?

Or just the sex?

Was it the way he touched me?

Or the way he didn't know who I really was?

That made me feel so alive and so insane.

You think that was it?

No.

It seems like he knows everything.