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- Babe, it's fine.

- Not quite.

Better?

- There's something missing.

- You know, we should do something.

- Like what?

- Do you fancy a meal?

- A meal?

Sure, what should I make?

It was a joke.

- Yeah, I bet.

How about that new restaurant tomorrow?

- Tomorrow I'm not sure I can.

I've got a meeting with Tim at the new site.

It's quite a way.

- Oh, come on, babe.

Spend a bit of time with me.

It's Christmas, fuck work.

- It's important.

If it all goes to plan, it's a hell of a pay rise.

- Well, I could come with you then.

We could do lunch.

- Honey.

That's impossible, I'm sorry.

- Yeah, I know.

Stupid idea.

- Look, I'll try and come home early, okay?

A date, huh?

Is that what you want?

- Say I love you.

- I love you.

- Keep saying it. - I love you.

- Don't stop. - I love you.

I love you. - Love you too.

- I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

- Hey, let me do that.

- All done.

- Ah, I really hope Chloe is gonna be okay.

- She'll be fine, honey.

Mom and dad will spoil her.

There was a dead fly in my face cream.

- Okay.

- It's not breaking news, Susan, just odd.

Are there flies in winter?

- What?

You'll be late for work.

- Welcome to Walk of Art.

If you need any help, please let me know.

- Thank you.

Excuse me. - Sir?

- I want this.

- A wise choice for a lucky lady.

It's my favorite color.

- Mine too.

Reminds me of something my grandmother used to say.

What was it?

"Love is ever green and never jealous."

- Did you know green is the color of both love and envy?

No.

- It's an amusing contradiction.

Sir.

- Thank you.

- Merry Christmas.

- 20% more.

Forget it.

We cannot afford to lose him.

He's a prime investor.

- Fuck him and his investment.

You tell him from me,

if he doesn't want to work with us,

step aside, others will.

It's his loss, Tim, not ours.

Jesus, are you sure about this?

- Of course I'm sure.

Nobody plays me for a fool.

Okay, fine, but he will not be happy.

- Yeah, yeah.

Fuck him.

Whatever.

- Good afternoon, sir.

And welcome to the Orpheus Motel.

I'm Nina, how may I be of service?

- Very professional.

- New year, new management.

It's all changed.

Thought I'd get some practice in.

What do you think?

- Well, you look great.

Hey, where's Steve?

- Oh. - I thought he was in today.

- He's sick, everyone is.

It's the flu.

Well, man flu.

- Well, I never get sick.

Healthy living.

Here, Merry Christmas.

- Oh, thanks.

It's quiet.

- Yeah, for now, we're fully booked.

Got a big conference, but nobody's here yet.

- Well, it's party season,

so they're probably in town getting drunk.

- I may join them.

It's better than being stuck here.

- Sounds like a plan.

Hey, if my client doesn't show, why don't we do that?

- Do what?

Go for a drink?

- Oh, thanks for the offer, but-

- What?

- You're not my type.

Sorry.

- What type am I then?

- The older married type.

- I meant as a friend, Nina.

You misunderstood.

Aren't you forgetting something?

- Key! - It would help.

- Room seven.

Your key, sir.

And enjoy your stay.

- Cute.

Don't forget my wake-up call.

- The same as usual?

7:00 on the dot.

- Done.

Room service.

- Yes, I'd like champagne on ice with two glasses,

delivered to room seven at nine o'clock sharp.

Of course, sir.

- Thanks.

You gotta be kidding me.

And fuck you, too.

Bitch.

- Enjoy your stay. - Thanks.

- Nina?

Batteries.

- Don't worry, I'll fix it.

No rush.

- Hey, Philippe.

Healthy living. - Yeah, yeah.

Sorry, have you got a light?

Thanks. - No problem.

- I'm Paul. - Philippe.

- Nice to meet you.

Amazing view.

- I guess.

- Really, I think it's beautiful.

You know they run meditation workshops here.

Trying to convince work to let me bring the students up.

Increasing concentration by relieving stress.

- You're a teacher?

- Lecturer, but yeah.

Comparative religious studies.

Yeah, I know it sounds boring.

Maybe it is, but anyway.

Here for a conference, but no one's turned up.

Missed connection or delay, something like that.

What about you?

What are you here for?

- As it turns out, I'm in the same boat as you.

- Yeah, what do you mean?

- Was supposed to meet someone.

Doesn't matter.

- No, no, I'll listen if you want.

- It's a long story.

I'll go grab some food.

Catch you later.

- Hello?

- Thanks. - No problem.

Look after your room key.

I can't find the spare.

- Shame, I was hoping you'd sneak in and fuck my brains out.

- I apologize, okay?

Get that crap all the time.

It's hard to know if someone's being sincere.

- Forget it.

- Good evening, sir.

Ready to order?

- Yes, I'd like the soupe aux champignons,

followed by filet mignon, rare.

- And to drink? - Merlot.

- Large or small? - The bottle.

- Very good, sir.

- Hi, daddy.

I miss you, I'm really excited for Christmas.

- Thank you.

- Evening.

Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted a drink, but-

- Help yourself.

- Thank you.

I was thinking of heading into town in a bit.

A few drinks, find some action.

Wanna come?

Come on.

While the cat's away.

While the cat's away, the mice will play.

You don't know that one?

- Mice don't play.

They get stupid and caught in traps.

Snap, snap.

- Oh, not all mice are stupid.

I once knew a mouse that was so clever

it could steal bait from a trap without getting caught.

Until it got caught of course.

- You knew this mouse personally?

Was he a close friend?

- I knew of a mouse, it's better.

And he was a she.

- Hm, one of the crafty ones.

To clever mice.

- Long may their tails twitch.

So, the girl at reception.

- Nina, she's okay.

Why, you interested?

- Oh, she's nice.

- Nice means you wanna fuck her.

- Wouldn't you, given half a chance?

Ah, you're bullshitting me.

- Nah.

I'm not her type.

Too old apparently.

The downside of hitting 30.

The feast slowly becomes a famine.

Tell you something though,

chick before Nina, what was her name?

Shit, it doesn't matter.

She had the biggest pair of tits I'd ever seen.

Just beautiful. - Whoa!

- I wanted to fuck her so much.

- Did ya? - We hooked up on night,

but that's all.

- While the cat's away.

- Sorry.

I'm on the wine, I talk shit.

- Do you want to get a coffee?

- Nah, I gotta piss.

Back in a minute.

It's just one person.

One opinion.

Fuck it.

- I know.

Oh, yeah, it's okay.

He's here now, one sec.

It's your wife.

- Honey, it's me.

Are you okay?

The meeting's over.

We had a few drinks to celebrate.

No I had a drink, I won't drive home.

Better safe than sorry.

Honey, I've gotta go.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Yeah, I love you, too.

Bye.

Why answer my phone?

- I am so sorry.

I, I thought it might be important.

- I don't need a fucking secretary.

Who is it?

Good evening, sir.

You ordered champagne.

- You're early.

I said 9:00.

- Surprise.

Miss me?

- Every time you leave, I'm jealous.

- Don't be.

I don't fuck him anymore.

I'm all yours.

I think I'm falling for you.

- You can't.

I'm not leaving my husband.

You're not leaving your family.

We agreed, right?

You promised.

- I don't always keep my promises.

- You're a naughty man.

But let's keep it light between us, okay?

Just enjoy ourselves.

Have some fun.

- Why?

I know you feel the same.

Besides I need you.

- No, you just wanna fuck me.

- Can't you see that it's more than just that?

It's perfect.

- Let's go out.

Find a bar, get drunk.

I think I need to catch up.

- Why not call room service?

- It's not the same.

I wanna dance.

I wanna have some fun with you.

You think too much.

Let some chaos in.

- I can't dance and I hate chaos.

- You'll be too drunk to care.

Trust me.

- Hey, Nina.

You driving to town?

- I have a taxi outside.

- Can we share it?

I'll pay.

- If you insist.

What do you like best about me?

- About you?

I like your smile, your sense of humor,

the way you make me feel.

And...

- What?

- I feel safe.

What about you?

- It's the way you look at me.

I look into those eyes and everything else just fades away.

Feels like home.

Do you believe in fate?

- I don't know.

Like what?

- Do you believe people meet and things happen for a reason?

- You mean like a plan?

Yeah.

I believe in luck, not fate.

So, you don't think we're fated to be together?

- Maybe we were just lucky

to have found one another.

Dance with me.

See, you're not so bad.

- I love you.

Room service.

- Another bottle of champagne for room seven.

Very good, sir.

- Thanks.

For you, beautiful.

- That's sweet. - Merry Christmas.

- You know I can't.

- Just once.

He'll never know.

- It's beautiful.

Who is it?

- Room service.

That was quick.

- You can do this.

Good morning, class.

First day of school.

First lesson.

Oh, the tape stays on for now.

So, who knows anything about the golden rule?

Anybody?

Philippe?

No?

Okay, well, the golden rule is a very old philosophy,

it dates back to Ancient Egypt.

From there, it spread through the Middle East and to China,

and then to Europe.

Its roots are embedded in every major religion

and it is the moral cornerstone of civilized society.

It is a very simple, but profound master stroke

of reciprocal altruism.

Oh, yeah, I'm sorry.

Are the big words going over your head?

I'll put it like this.

What is hateful to you, do not do onto your fellow man.

Well, I'm gonna take an educated guess that

that young lady wasn't your wife.

I thought so.

You see that?

That is an excellent example of breaking the golden rule.

Put yourself in my shoes.

Imagine you're not married.

It appears you wouldn't like it.

It's very painful.

Guess what I found in there?

Your manners.

You were very rude to me in the restaurant.

I was trying to do you a favor answering your phone.

Your wife, she was in a blind panic.

She'd called earlier, but no reply.

Why would you do that?

I mean, even if playing away you could have at least

let her know you were safe.

And there I was trying to help.

And all I get is abuse.

You know, I could've,

I could've told her about the receptionist.

- Who the fuck are you?

Where's Camille?

What are you doing?

It's not here.

- What the fuck are you talking about?

- Your manners.

Hm.

You know what else isn't here?

There's no wrappers.

Do you always fuck my wife without a condom?

No, no, no!

- You see, I heard every word.

Connects to an app.

Recorded it, too.

What do you think she'd say?

All those messages, photos.

Okay, so in a minute, I'm gonna take off the tape.

We need to have a chat.

If you make a noise...

Well, that's fine.

'Cause there's no one around, you see?

No conference.

All the rooms are booked for reasons

too numerous to enumerate.

That's Bacchus or Dionysus if you're Greek.

God of wine, sex, madness.

Torn apart by the wrath of a jealous spouse,

and later resurrected.

A symbol of death and rebirth and a pruning of the vines

to encourage fresh growth.

Grapes for the harvest of new wine.

You know, that's the exact same look my students give me.

All they care about is console games,

getting drunk, who fancies who.

You know, to them, ethics are a meme.

It's a generation of hashtag retweet morals,

and celebrity is God.

You know, I once knew a guy so vain,

he said he believed in the almighty 100%

because he saw his face every morning

in the mirror when he shaved.

He died in a car crash.

Hit a tree while taking a selfie.

- What do you want?

- That's a good question.

- I don't want any trouble, okay?

- When you fuck another man's wife,

trouble's normally close behind.

- I'm sorry.

- Well, that's fine then, huh?

Off you go, no harm done.

- I'll do anything you want.

Anything!

Just don't tell my wife, please.

- Jesus Christ, well that didn't take long, did it?

Oh, don't worry, Philippe.

I'm not gonna tell your wife.

- Thank you.

- No, you will on this.

A full confession, then it goes on your Facebook,

Instagram, Snapchat, all the other shit you've got on here.

You know, really, this could be the phone

of a 12 year old girl.

Just saying it could be.

- That's not gonna happen, okay?

I have money.

I can pay you whatever you want.

Let's make a deal, okay?

- You mean like do business?

- Yes.

- I've got another idea.

Either you confess or I make you confess-

- 1,000 every month for life.

- No, you're not listening to me.

- 2,000 tax free, come on.

- I would not wipe my ass with your money, okay?

I want a confession.

- No.

- Philippe.

- Fuck you.

Jesus, man, no, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, I won't touch her again.

I promise.

- You're just saying what you think I wanna hear.

It's a survival instinct.

It's not sincere.

You have to be sincere.

And you have to make me believe.

- On my daughter's life, I'm sorry.

You gotta believe me.

I know I've screwed up, but think of her.

You'll destroy everything she loves.

Her family. - And my family.

Not a second thought?

- Just let me go.

And we'll say no more about it.

- Well, what is that, is that a threat?

- No, no, no, no, it's not a threat.

It's a assurance.

No police, no trouble.

Just two guys coming to an arrangement.

Come on.

What do you say?

It's Christmas.

- Fuck Christmas.

Fuck Christmas.

Fuck you, too.

Is that all Chloe is to you?

Just a shield against consequences.

- You said Chloe.

I never told you her name.

How do you know her name?

- That's a very good question.

That's two in five minutes.

Fuck, you must be getting dizzy.

- How do you know my daughter's name?

Tell me. - No!

Philippe, education has a structure.

- If you've hurt my daughter, I will kill you.

- Tell me what I want.

Then, I'll answer question number two.

- Revenge.

Not my style.

- You want a confession.

Why?

- You want me to suffer.

- You must try harder.

- You want to post the confession online,

and embarrass me.

Humiliate me.

- Please, don't think of it as humiliation.

Think of it as an education.

- My daughter, you promised.

- I know Chloe.

Hold that thought. - Paul, Paul, Paul!

Is Chloe all right?

- Shut up. - Just tell me.

- As if you'll confess if I tell you she's fine.

- I will.

I promise.

- And what do you know about promises?

Last chance.

Confess or I send everything on the phone to your wife.

- You get nothing until I know Chloe's safe.

- I've already got everything.

I win either way.

Just thought I'd give you a chance.

- A chance for what?

- Absolution.

Confession's good for the soul.

If you have one.

Hm.

- Paul, please, we can sort it out.

- Can we sort this?

- Don't do it.

She'll leave and take Chloe.

- Sent.

Bye bye, Chloe. - Jesus Christ.

I'm sorry.

- Don't feel ashamed.

This means you love.

There's hope.

"Give a strong drink unto him that is ready to perish,

and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts."

Proverbs.

So, let's talk about Camille.

Let's talk about what's been snuffling between her legs.

A bloated bore with an appetite for apples.

I've been waiting for this.

Funny thing is I was following you expecting to see Camille.

Stupid mice get caught in traps.

Snap, snap, snap.

And now for the coup de grace.

She'd deny it to your face.

I thought I was losing her.

I could see the struggle, until I showed her that.

And now she knows the truth that you are nothing

but a filthy fucking pig.

Class dismissed.

- Oh, I was about to forget.

I stopped by some friends.

I'm heading back now.

Doesn't matter who.

What are you, my mother?

Yeah, it was a joke, mom.

All right, bye.

- Philippe?

- Hm?

You want a drink?

Wait your turn.

- I want a cigarette.

- Manners, remember?

- May I please have a cigarette?

A light?

Sorry.

Mother fucker! - Oh!

- Is Chloe safe?

Is she safe? - Yes, yes, yes.

- Where's Camille?

Where's Camille? - Room 12, room 12.

Oh, fuck.

Ah, ah! - Come on!

- Camille!

- Susan, don't!

That's enough, that's enough.

- What do you think?

I mean, it's not my usual color, but then again,

there's nothing really usual about tonight at all is there?

'Cause tonight I have a date.

It's absurd, isn't it?

I mean, why do we even bother really?

The average man is not gonna go to this much trouble,

I can assure you.

But then again with a figure like yours,

I guess you don't have to try very hard, do you?

You know, you and I have more in common than you think.

I cheated on my ex-husband, too.

Had affairs.

And then, I met Philippe.

You know, we'd actually meet here at this very motel.

It was our secret place.

Our escape.

Oh, I was such a bitch back then.

Do you know what I mean?

Anyway, I had no regrets.

None.

None whatsoever.

I know it's funny, isn't it?

Because now you've actually stolen him off me,

but don't worry 'cause I don't blame you entirely.

You glad you helped me catch him now, Camille?

Thought so.

Jesus Christ.

Well, you know, if all else fails,

you'll have a shining career as a gynecologist.

I would say they disgust me,

but in some ways when I think about it,

I feel it's a bit of a turn on.

I mean, what's wrong with me?

I'm beautiful, aren't I?

Of course I am.

Oh, and just for the record.

I heard everything by the way.

All that talk of true love and feeling safe.

Philippe, you're God's gift to no one.

Dinner time.

And don't you dare blame Paul.

I've known about your little affair now for weeks,

and there was no business convention.

I charged every suite to your card.

I wanted to make this date extra special.

Nobody here, but us.

And as we both know, close circuits here are a no-no.

It's a hideaway for cheats.

And when it pays, well, why put cameras in paradise, eh?

Thank you, maitre d, can you check on the food now, please?

It's funny, isn't it?

This morning when you left,

I was still that innocent little housewife.

Mm, delicious.

You know, you really should try some of this, Philippe.

It really, really is divine.

Oh, yeah.

Let me help you.

You're supposed to swallow, my darling.

I mean, that's what you've always told me.

- Bitch, you won't get away with this.

- Maybe not.

After all, everything we do has consequences.

Even for you.

- Consequences?

Like what?

- For you, my love, a banquet.

Oh, starters.

And I've put something a little extra special

in there for you.

Oh, would you like mommy to feed you instead?

- You can shove that spoon

and your date right up your ass.

- Philippe, what do they call a dish best served cold?

- Revenge.

Is that what this is all about?

You could have filed for divorce.

Had the car, the house, everything.

Instead you teamed up with this loser.

- Oh, no, this is not about a straight revenge.

This is about making something perfect.

I mean, that's what you always like, isn't it, Philippe?

You want everything to be perfect.

Is this perfect enough for you?

It's pretty good to me.

Oh, you're clumsy.

Allow me.

Oh, such a baby.

Now, are we ready for our main course?

Maitre d.

Perfection.

I mean, tell me, is it the constant stream

of altered images into your world?

You know, the body beautiful, perfect breasts,

unwrinkled brow.

You have no idea what it's like as a woman.

To be made to feel ashamed and fearful

of growing old on a daily basis.

Now, you look me in the eye

and tell me it's the same for men.

- Maybe it is. - Bullshit.

- Susan.

Please listen.

We can fix this.

Let's go home, talk, whatever it takes.

Let's save our family.

- Hold that thought.

Main course.

Hm.

You know, in France, this is known as a cassoulet.

I made it myself.

Takes hours to prepare, but like most things,

when you put the time and effort into it, it's perfect.

- No. - Open wide.

- You don't like it?

Well, I tried my very best.

It's time for dessert now.

Date's nearly over.

You wanted to have your talk?

So, what should we talk about then?

Weather, politics, TV?

- Chloe.

- Oh, look.

It's a tart, your favorite.

You know, they call this the drink and forgetfulness.

One sip and all this becomes a distant memory.

Are you ready to forgive and forget now, Camille?

We can make this whole thing all go away.

Tell her what you told me in the restaurant.

Go on.

Tell her how you want us to start again and remain a family.

Show her how you begged.

Not so pretty now, is he?

- You wanna continue with this stupid charade, fine.

Let her drink and then let her go.

- A toast then, to Absinthe friends.

- Do it.

What is the point?

- Well, it was really lovely to meet you, Camille.

We should do it again sometime.

- Camille, Camille.

- Oh, and what's so funny?

- That's it, it's over.

- Oh God, baby.

We are so far from over.

Cheers.

See what you made me do?

Drove me into the arms of another man.

- You're such a fucking hypocrite.

How does your golden rule theory sit with fucking my wife?

- There's a difference.

Bullshit.

- You broke a rule, not us.

You wanna watch while I fuck your wife?

I could turn you to the wall if you want.

- No, he can close his eyes if he doesn't like what he sees.

- You call that fucking?

You fuck like an old man.

Go on then, Paul, fuck her hard.

Cum on her and rub it all over.

She loves that.

You fucking old man.

Is it even up?

I'm surprised you're hard after the amount

of booze you've knocked back.

Think you can last all night?

No chance, you weak fuck!

- Oh!

- Oh God, he's really good, Philippe.

But this could get a hell of a lot better.

Yeah, keep talking dirty to me.

Go on.

Make me really, really wet for him.

- Bitch, you disgust me.

Your pussy stinks.

I hated going down on you.

I can't believe Chloe came from that.

How can someone so beautiful come from that sick cunt?

You whore!

- You know, Philippe...

Your wife's a really good fuck.

Men would die to fuck a woman like this.

- Say I love you.

- I love you.

- Keep saying it. - I love you, I love you.

- Don't stop. - I love you, I love you.

I love you, oh!

You know, I think he liked that.

- He didn't close his eyes.

Did that make you hard?

Did Paul fucking me turn you on?

- Or maybe you just like watching me.

No, nothing?

Did you peek at sick cunt?

Verses to rival Blake.

- I don't think Philippe likes poetry.

- "Cruelty has a human heart and jealousy a human face.

Terror, the human form divine.

And Secrecy, the human dress.

The human dress, is forged iron.

The human form, a fiery forge.

The human face, a furnace sealed.

The human heart, its hungry gorge."

- "For mercy has a human heart.

Pity, a human face.

Love, the human form divine.

And peace, the human dress."

Chloe.

- Share and share alike.

Still here? - Yes.

- Why?

- Enjoy yourself?

- Yeah, well, now you know what it feels like.

- Do you feel the guilt?

I always felt guilty.

- I don't know what I feel.

I just wanted to hurt him and you.

- Mission accomplished.

Feel better?

- A little, yeah.

I hate myself.

But I hate him a little less.

It's like a stone's been lifted off my heart.

- Let's go home.

- And then what?

I don't know.

- You're gonna have to let me go soon.

The cleaners start doing the rounds at 7:00.

Come on.

We're done playing games.

Untie me.

- You never complained about it before.

- God damn it, Susan.

Let me go.

- You know, babe, I doubt she'd

had gone to all this trouble for you.

- What do you mean?

- Camille.

She was so quick to leave.

Wasn't she?

Not even a "goodbye, Philippe."

Now, she's gone.

Forgotten.

Revenge is the best measure of love.

Paul was such a pretentious bastard.

Good fuck though.

Almost as good as you.

Why? - Why what?

Cheat on me.

- The same reason we cheated.

The passion, the excitement, the chase-

- And the romance?

So, all of this was just- - Was me.

It was all about my pride and my ego.

I am the guilty one.

I made the first move.

I chased her into bed.

That's what you wanna hear, right?

My confession.

Help me make it right.

- Well, Chloe needs her parents.

- She needs both of us.

- We all make mistakes from time to time don't we, hm?

- We're a family, we can get through this.

- Maybe.

People have come back from much worse than this.

I know that.

Unfortunately, I don't see that happening.

- What do you mean?

- Oh, Philippe.

I am so happy for you that you've had your little insight.

But your family's not a bad deal in need of a fix here.

- Fine.

Divorce me.

Take it all.

I don't care about that shit anymore.

All I care about is Chloe.

So, let's come to some arrangement.

- Jesus Christ. - It doesn't have to be toxic.

- I think we're past toxic, dear.

- Don't punish her for my sins.

- Don't you dare believe that you're a martyr.

Not for one fucking second.

Now, you listen to me.

What happens here happens and for good reason.

You are pathetic.

- Add weak and childish to the list.

Vain, arrogant, self obsessed.

A martyr?

No.

I see what's important and it's not me, it's Chloe.

- You're never gonna see your daughter again.

- No, no!

For Christ's sake, why?

You selfish fucking bitch.

Is all this really more important than Chloe?

- When we first got hitched, pretty much the first weekend.

Remember how good the sex was?

I was already six weeks late, Philippe.

Already pregnant.

So, you see, you can't have Chloe.

She's not even yours.

- You're lying.

- Why would I lie about my own daughter?

She's everything to me.

Not you.

- You fucking bitch.

You've been lying to me all these years?

- Well, a girl has to take care of herself.

- Shit.

Philippe, it's Nina.

Rise and shine.

I'm sorry it's late.

Here's your wake-up call.

Hello?

Philippe?

- You'll both go to jail for this.

- Here.

Might as well give it a go.

- Fuck you, I'll never forget this.

- So, there is no happy ending.

No forgive and forget.

- The way I see it, you've got two options.

You kill me or you let me go.

If you let me go, I press charges.

If you kill me, you go on the run.

Either way you lose Chloe.

You're willing to risk that?

Revenge is the best measure of love.

It's your choice.

- Actually, I've just thought of a third option.