Original subtitles

- I've had some stupid ideas in my life,

but this one has always been there,

in the back of my mind.

I think I had it the day my heart was broken

for the first time.

But if I'm being totally honest, it was long before that.

Maybe when I started to differentiate little girls

from women in my mind.

Maybe when I started reading.

Or writing my first novel.

Or maybe, quite simply after my first time.

You probably wonder what a young woman

is doing in a place like this?

It's a good question.

And it's a good story.

At least, I think so.

It began 18 months ago,

as I was walking through Berlin with my best friend one night.

- You can't be serious, Emma!

- Hey, just try and be cool, okay?

- You'll love it. Trust me - No...

- You'll like it.

Look, it's here.

- Emma! What's that?

On the left, therapy,

one the right, a brothel!

- Come on. You do the talking, OK?

- We're married and it's our anniversary. - No.

- Yes! - It's your idea, you do the talking.

- OK. - Wait, wait! We don't have any rings.

- Do you think they're really gonna look?

- I don't know. - What's up?

- I don't know! - Come on.

Stephanie, come back!

- Can't sleep? - No.

- What's up?

- You know.

I'm so lonely without you, but...

but now that you're here...

I need my space.

You're hard to love.

Poor little thing...

You're going to make your psychoanalyst rich!

- Don't!

- Good morning. - Good morning.

- Is Stephanie here?

- No, back in London.

- Isn't it hard sleeping with your friend,

when he's got a wife at home?

- No.

- Pass me a knife.

- That's exactly why it works for us.

- Really... Thanks.

I slept so deep!

- Oh, yeah? - Yeah, I love it here.

my dream was weird.

You were doing a book signing.

There was a long line of people,

but the book wasn't yours,

it was The history of Poland .

- "The History of Poland"? - I swear!

Your name was on the cover.

- I was signing it?

- Well yeah, all cool.

Normal.

- You know what I think is really strange,

not that I wrote a book about Poland,

but the long line of people waiting for the signing.

- Come on!

Your last book was a success. - Well, yeah...

- Don't be so depressed,

just because you don't have your next subject.

- This is a reputable house.

Here, we are all professionals.

- I understand.

- Is this your first time?

- Mm. My first time what?

- Have you ever been a prostitute before?

- Yes. I mean, yes.

Of course.

- You really are French?

- Yes, of course.

- You work somewhere in Berlin?

- No, I moved here very recently, actually.

And the boss, is he nice?

- The boss never touches the girls.

We hardly ever see him however, he see us.

OK.

You chosen a name?

- Uh... a name?

- Of course. You cannot use your own, Emma.

- Justine. - Justine.

Alright, hm.

You can write your name on it.

We'll find you an empty locker and bring your own pad lock.

OK? - OK.

- Meeka, show the French girl the bathroom

and the makeup cabinet.

And give her a pair of shoes.

- Come on.

Ah, you can take this one.

I want you to take a shower after every client, OK?

- OK. - At least use the bidet.

And don't use too much soap. It causes irritation. OK?

- Yeah.

- Are you coming? - Yes.

- Yeah, so for one hour, you can come twice.

For extras, that's 20 euros more.

For a kiss on the mouth or blow job without a condom,

that's also an extra 20.

But that's not an option with Justine.

- No. An hour should be more than enough.

So...

And fifty. - That's right.

- Thank you.

- Follow me. - OK, thanks.

- Enter.

Do you want me to put on some music?

- Not really.

- Maybe some Champaign? It's only 20 euros extra.

- No, it's OK. Come here.

- OK.

- Go on.

Show me.

- Yeah. That's nice...

- It's super dangerous!

- No, it's not. And we need the money, right?

- You're joking. - Move!

- Get a job in retail, or wait tables.

- I've always wanted to write about this, OK.

I want to know how it works,

meet the clients, talk to the girls...

- It's not a bad subject,

it's just, you don't have to be a whore to meet them.

It's not hard in Berlin.

- I told you how I feel!

Fuck!

We know that we disagree on sex, and that's fine,

but I'm asking you not to judge me.

- Oh sure, I'm not judging...

I'm just worried about you as your sister.

Emma, getting fucked and wanting...

and wanting to writing about it, is really cool as a subject.

It's cool.

But to become a prostitute...

What will Mom say?

- Don't tell her about it.

Not her.

Is that clear? - Yeah.

If you go through with this one,

than it's yours forever.

So, they won't think of you as just a writer,

but you will be a whore.

- Maybe I don't want to be "just" a writer,

as you say.

This is for me.

Screw their judgement.

- Oh yeah? - Yeah.

- Where are you going? Maddy?

- Home.

- You think in this house the girls are not welcoming?

That guy's looking at you. What are you waiting for?

- Hello. I'm Justine.

- Hello. - From Paris.

- I'm Marco, from Oregon.

Nice to meet you.

Why did you get into this business?

You're way too good for this.

You're like a dream.

- Well, a dream with the rights.

Actually, I'm a writer.

I want to write a book about brothels and desire.

But wait, it's a big secret I'm telling you, OK?

No one must find out.

- OK. - OK.

- I won't tell a soul. You can trust me.

- Mm.

Hm.

What brings you here?

- My friends dragged me along.

I became a father, six months ago.

To a boy.

- Hm.

Congratulations.

- And my wife...

can't bare for me to touch her anymore.

I love her... dearly. - Hm.

But I miss it...

so much.

- I understand.

- Come.

Lay down.

- Shh.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

- We shouldn't have gone there.

- You think I'm doing it just because of a dare?

You know me better.

Where are you?

- Walking the dog.

- One sec, it's cold.

- What? - It's cold.

- Can you hear me? - Yes, I can.

It's a really dumb idea, Emma.

There's a big difference liking sex and being a whore.

How could I not worry?

- Well, you're a writer. You get it.

- A writer isn't a journalist.

Writing isn't reporting, it's inventing.

- That's open to debate.

I mean, most of the clients I've had were...

they were really normal.

A bit short, balding, normal in bed...

- Wait, I'm not sure I want to know.

- How can you just want missionary position

with a lover?

You seem to have some fun experimenting.

- OK, but I don't want to know.

- Hey, I want to tell you.

I had one client who was totally charming.

It's weird, but it's harder when they're handsome.

- You like them ugly?

Mother Theresa of the ugly!

- No, I wanted to please him, I couldn't focus.

I told him I was working on a story, messed up.

- You see, you still believe in love.

- You.

- The boss is not happy with you.

He says you spend more time with your nose

in that notebook, writing whatever,

while you should be busy with the clients.

He doesn't like it.

Like, all the girls are on their phones-- - Mm-mm, mm-mm.

Watch out, Justine.

He'll give you a second chance,

but only because it's chic to have a French woman.

- OK.

I'm sorry, you cannot smoke here.

Sir, it's-- You cannot smoke here.

Oh, OK. I don't do it without a condom.

I can call another girl for you if you--

- No, no, no, no, no.

Cocaine.

- No, sir. I'm-- Sorry, it's forbidden.

- You do the lines. - No, no. You can't do that.

- I'll do the lines. - No, no, sir.

- One for you and one for me. - No.

Sir, you cannot do drugs here, OK?

It's forbidden in the house.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

- Sir, listen to me.

Sir, I'm going to have to call the house madame.

- Hey, I'm gonna fuck you, you got it!

I'm the boss, you're my girl.

One for you.

There you go. - I don't do-- I don't do cocaine.

- Now.

- OK.

Shit.

- Can you do all of this for me, too?

Huh? Huh?

Oh, god, I love you.

- No.

- Enough!

The session was over five minutes ago.

- I'll take another... another hour.

- No.

- And I want coke!

- That's not possible, sir.

- I know the boss.

Bring him here! Right now!

- No. The boss doesn't enter the rooms. - Now!

- Keep it down, or we'll throw you out!

- Where's the boss?! - Keep it down! Keep it down!

- What?

- I can't sleep. Are you good?

- Yeah, I'm not great.

- I had a feeling. I'm worried about you, Emma.

- Please, don't worry.

- Tell me what's going on.

- There's nothing.

Just some lunatic made me do coke with him.

- I don't fucking believe it, Emma.

- Uh, I don't like feeling high.

- Just stop working there.

- It's the wrong place.

The women don't even speak.

There's another brothel that's better, apparently.

- I haven't slept since, since you started doing this.

Now some guy has abused you!

- He didn't. We didn't even fuck.

- You're going too far! Why are you punishing yourself?

- I'm working on my story.

I want an honest account of this experience

for this romanticized industry, that's what I'll write.

- OK.

If that's your reason, stop hiding

and call your editor.

Tell him about your next book. I won't do it for you.

- Stop saying "your editor"!

He's yours, too!

I won't call him, because we're different!

I don't get an advance.

No grants, no signing bonus

and now I'm broke!

- OK, Emma, I can help you out.

- Fucking shit, fuck. Fuck off!

- Emma--

- Hi. - Hi.

- Morning, Ingrid. - Morning.

- Dorothy? - Hm?

- You want coffee? - No thanks, sweetie.

I'm trying to quit stimulants.

Yeah.

Hey.

Are you leaving already?

- What, "already"?

I've been here since nine o'clock this morning

and I made three sessions in the studio.

- Oof, that's rough.

- Argan oil?

Oh, it comes from my country. - Yeah.

I know.

- Ah, you put lemon oil in it.

- Yeah. - Well, apparently it works wonders for cellulite.

Your clients will stink because of you. - Oh, yeah.

Well, you know what,

I don't worry about those lame rules anymore.

Those idiots should learn to wash before they go home.

That's on them.

- OK.

I'll try.

- You want some, Justine?

- No, thank you. I'm cellulite free.

- Oh, you're cellulite free.

What a French bitch.

- You know the French,

they prefer to make their brain sexy more than their ass.

- So you're in tomorrow?

- No. God no.

- Hey, girls. - I need a break this weekend.

- Hey.

- I'm working nights every day at the hospital next week.

Oh, and Hanz is coming home on Saturday.

- So, he's better now?

- Uh, better, yeah. I don't know.

He's improving though.

It's the last week of rehab,

so I booked us a little hotel for the occasion.

I just hope I'm still going to be up for sex

by the end of next week.

- You know, after a few days off my hips, my lower back,

my entire body aches like hell.

And when the pain goes, it feels so good.

The last thing I want to do is fuck.

- You'll be fine, don't worry.

See you tomorrow.

- Ah, yep. - Well, goodbye, girls

- Bye.

- Ooh, it really smells like lemons in here.

- I don't know what it is.

- And Justine, your appointment is here.

You can take him into the red room. - OK.

- I like this room.

- It's not my favorite,

but it's still very welcoming.

Mary told me you were in the hospital.

- She told you? - Yeah.

She was worried.

- Uh, I had a heart operation.

In the bed for two weeks.

But I feel better now.

Even if it makes me a little sad.

- Why?

- Since I'm unemployed, I'm a little bored.

And not so much money, so this is the best.

- I understand.

- Open your legs.

- I burred my father last month.

- Oh shit. Well, I'm sorry.

- I watched the coffin go down there

and I thought that I would be next.

But in my head, I'm 15 still.

Only now, my father's dead

and I have no girlfriend, no kids.

- Maybe it's time for you to settle down with a woman.

- You're all my little women.

- You'll still see us.

- Open your legs.

Did you get fucked a lot today?

- Four times.

That's beautiful!

- How awful.

Looks like that would hurt you.

- Well, I like it.

Their lingerie is really incredible.

- Well, that's cliché, hm.

- Well, yeah. Madeline, we're professionals.

We can't wear boxer shorts.

- At least you'd be different.

- Oh, my my.

- To be honest,

for me, I'd choose this one.

- Hm, sure.

- It's interesting.

- Yeah, I like it. - You mean it?

Try it on.

- OK.

And in exchange, you try this.

- I don't think so! It's horrible!

- Grow up! - Awful.

- Madeleine... - Shit!

Try it once.

- Come on. - OK, lets see.

- Thank you.

- Hm, did you miss us, doc?

- For sure, sweethearts.

- What can we do for you today?

- Surprise me.

My beautiful girls.

No, no, no. More, more.

I want to see you two

Hildie, take care of Justine, please.

Yeah.

- Pretty whores.

- That was good, yeah? - Yes.

Doc, can you renew the prescription of my pill.

- Yeah. Yes, of course, - Thank you.

- It's 1035 you asked? - Yes.

- I'll make you one. - Thank you.

- Ah, that's Delilah. - Oh?

- Instantly recognizable. - You're good.

- Here you go, Justine. - Thank you very much.

- The doctor's made another appointment

with you two next week.

- He's such a gentlemen.

- If only they could all be like him.

- Gentleman, my ass.

He's married.

- And so?

- I'd never get married.

- Better never say never, kiddo.

Trust me, I know what I mean.

Big day.

I'm dead.

I think I was too generous.

I gave him more than what he paid for.

It sounded like it.

- Oh, really?

Maybe I went too far.

- They always come back, with gifts, sweets, flowers...

The bastards.

- Tell me.

What do you do to them? - Well...

I don't know how it works at other brothels but,

I prefer that to being penetrated.

- I grew tired of being groped, so I chose my way.

- Wait, so they don't touch you?

- Absolutely not!

No, I just guide the fantasies of men.

- Ah, the fantasies of men.

- Ah, I would never do that. I'd never.

- Well, you know, most guys want it up the ass.

You tell them whatever story they want to hear.

That's all you have to do.

I prefer to penetrate, than be penetrated.

- Delilah the Penetrator!

- She's jealous.

She never gets presents. - And she never shares them.

- What do you think?

That you're going to feel my pussy?

Huh?

What's funny?

It's sex you would like?

To feel my pussy against your cock?

Huh?

Don't even look at me.

You disgust me. You ought to be ashamed?

Well, that's the story of the sexy professor,

with the school boy.

But it really works with any scenario,

or profession.

the fired employee, the bad client...

Most important, he's punished.

On the floor.

Then what I like to do

is stand above,

so that they know who's the boss.

All they want to do is look at you,

which gives you yet another reason to punish them.

Did I say you can look at me?

Apologize now.

- Pardon.

- Pardon?

Pardon who?

Pardon, Mistress.

- Pardon, Mistress.

- Pardon, Mistress.

Don't you know your manners?

Get up. Kneel down over there.

Count the blows with me,

until you know your place.

Get it wrong, we'll start over

and you'll be too sore to go home to your wife.

With this,

it isn't about strength,

but the intention.

It's always the intent.

Well, that's the foreplay. You warm them up for 30 minutes

and then for the rest of the hour you...

you do what they came for,

right up the ass.

I like to give them a proposal.

This one or that one.

Always use a condom, lubricant.

If they pay you extra, then you just strap it on your belt

and show them a good time.

Until you give them permission,

they can't come.

And after,

you let them smell your ass or your pussy,

or let them smell your fingers,

the explosion.

- It's crazy!

It's another job.

- We do the same!

I'm just an actor.

I play a role.

- I'll never be as good as you. - You could.

With your name and cute French accent!

Some more sauce?

Micky, more sauce, please?

Thanks!

Now we're talking.

I love sauce!

- Hello?

Whoo-hoo. - Hello.

Hungry...

for risotto?

- No, thanks, I had dinner.

I'm tired, I'm going to bed.

- Why did you pay the rent?

I have a job. I'll pay for it this month.

- Does it matter who pays?

- It matters to me!

I don't want to be living off the money my sister makes

from being a prostitute!

- Oh, wow.

That's real harsh!

I thought you'd moved on.

- But you said it would be six weeks.

It's been six months.

You're not even writing. - And what's that to you?

- Why exactly are you still doing it?

It's fun?

I like the job.

I've grown fond of the place.

And the girls.

Because I love that I have a hold over those who will pay me

and love the assurance that money brings, OK?

- You're hiding.

You're afraid to write, and have a boyfriend.

The brothel's an excuse.

- You sound just like Mother.

- But there, what are you hiding from Mom for? Huh?

Why should I keep having to lie to her?

If you really write this book,

she'll find out. Is that fair to her?

- Of course! Why wouldn't it be?

- I don't find glorifying brothels

to be anything entertaining!

It will make you hopeless!

- My writing has a formula! - And you're writing what?

I'm not seeing it!

All you do is sit around that think!

Have you considered your responsibility?

Imagine a kid likes your writing

and gets inspired, and gets killed!

How would you feel then?

- It's a story, Madeleine.

It's my story.

Not a fake world.

I talk about one place,

about my experience,

and what I know.

A real someone.

- Don't treat me like an idiot.

- Let's go out.

We're going out!

- Good morning!

- Good morning.

Uh, I drank too much.

- Just wait. I'll make you my miracle cure.

- Hey. - Hi.

You good?

- Yeah, and you?

- Mm-hm.

- Here you go.

Lemon and ginger.

- Works like magic, you'll see. - Thank you.

- Nothing for me? - Ooh, jealous!

You got a headache?

Jealous! - Uh, I'm not.

- Have either of you even met the owner?

- Nope, never.

But you know, she was a prostitute.

That's why it's nice around here.

It's not better elsewhere.

- She's right, that's why we stay here.

Rotting away in this place.

And why are you here?

I mean, why Berlin?

- Berlin, uh... it uh...

my heart got broken, needed a change.

- Ah, broken heart can hurt, eh, Delilah?

- I wouldn't know. - Of course.

- What do you do in Paris?

- Ah, questions need to stop!

She already said she's has a headache!

- It's fine! She asks questions all the time.

I can ask a few, too!

- Yeah, but she knows how to be curious

and discreet at the same time.

- Oh, what a kill joy! - You're the kill joy!

You know. That's your problem, Delilah.

Whether in life or client, you keep taking!

- How much do you earn in a week?

Keep talking. - You wanna know how much I earned at your age, huh?

- Hey! I can hear you in the kitchen!

and Brigida, your appointment is there.

- Again

Why they come so fucking early?

- If you stopped arguing, you'd be ready in time.

- And you're annoying!

- And there's a blowjob before coffee!

- Justine, there's a Frenchmen waiting - Sorry, sorry.

- who doesn't speak German or English.

I need your help.

- Madame, I'm not ready.

- Then hurry!

My, it'll be a long day.

- How are you? - Good. And you?

- You've done it before?

- Well... sure, a bit.

Maybe half way.

- How do you mean?

- Well, it was...

long ago.

One thing for sure is,

I know what to do with my hands...

- Mm-hm.

- but I don't know what else to do.

- OK, well...

it's not that complicated.

- OK.

- Come here.

OK. - Yeah.

First, we'll start with the fingers, so...

show me what you can do with them.

Do as you like, yeah.

Be inspired.

OK.

- So...

- OK, you've got the idea with the fingers.

- Should I stop?

- You came to learn how to lick? - Yes.

- You gotta start some time.

- Should I? - Yes.

- Here I go!

- Herman? - Yes?

- There's more than just the clitoris.

Really, take your time and go everywhere.

Down below, too.

- Uh...

What's down there?

- Well, it's like drawing, but you can go outside the lines.

- OK.

- Look... - What?

- Tell me, Herman... - What?

- You're bored.

- No...

Uh, are you?

- Well, I'm not really bored, I just, uh...

I really felt like you... you're doing it all backwards.

- Oh, what?!

- Why do you want to learn this?

- Because...

I have a girlfriend.

- Ah. - So...

- Well, that's a good reason, but it's not enough.

You have to want it.

You have to enjoy it.

And I'm sorry but,

you just don't seem to enjoy it.

Herman, look me in the eyes.

Does this bring you pleasure?

I do it to please.

- Ah, that's the problem.

With women, if you really want to please them...

- Well?

- If you aren't turned on,

we won't be turned on.

You have to feel transported!

And I-- Sorry, it was dull.

- But, the clitoris is...

- Yeah, the clitoris. It's good you know the concept, - Yeah.

but using the tip of your tongue

like you're just trying to keep it clean.

Just imagine you were trying to jerk off with just two fingers.

- Hm. - Yeah?

- I know. I get it.

Maybe it's easier for men,

but women, we need to feel your desire.

And desire

it's so easy to show.

Your hand for example, it's doing nothing,

you could place it on my stomach.

Hm? - Huh. Yeah.

- You have to maintain some enthusiasm, yeah?

That's really important.

For example, I'm sure if I did the same thing to you now,

you'd be sure I want to.

Wanna try?

- I'd like that.

- Alright, lie down.

I see...

I think I get the idea.

Ian sent you a new message

- Oh. You really do not look well.

- No, I really feel bad.

- You're bare foot. You go back to bed.

Go back to bed. And where can I wash my hands?

- Um, follow me. It's here.

- Say, "ah". - Ah...

- You have a nice case of tonsillitis.

- You take two of these right away.

These are antibiotics.

Yes. You go.

I'm going to prescribe some probiotics for the gut.

- Seriously, thank you.

- That's for you.

You stay off work for seven days.

- OK.

- You really have to rest.

- Yeah. - Yes?

- Uh, how much do I owe you?

- You owe me nothing.

- OK.

- You're beautiful in your pajamas too, you know.

Stay put. I'll find my own way out.

Don't worry. I'll forget your address.

Cheers.

- Well, you look a lot better.

- Yeah, I feel better.

- There's still some soup.

I won't be back late. - OK, thanks.

And I don't want to be annoying, but you really got to call Mom.

She knows you're sick. She's worried.

- Yeah, yeah. I'll do it. My throat's just sore.

- Is that the guy from Tinder?

- Not a chance! - Come on, show me!

- No way!

We're just talking.

We're not getting married.

- You don't want to sleep with him, cuz it's your work.

he's just keeping you entertained.

- Well...

- How is this, uh...?

- Ian. - Oh, I like Ian!

Lets see. - There.

- Oh, yeah!

You have to tell me everything about Ian!

- I'm not telling you.

You're going to be late.

- Well, have fun. - Yeah, thanks.

Ian?

- Emma.

Hey.

- How are you? - Yeah, good. I'm good.

And you? - I'm alright.

The weather.

What shall we...

- Come on.

You do this a lot? - Do what?

- Take all the girls to the park on the first date?

- Oh, you're jealous? Already? Wow!

Watch your step!

- Your French is good.

- Not really, I make a lot of...

- Shit! - Oh, shit!

Come on. Come on!

- Wait...

I want to feel you.

Come here. Come here.

You're beautiful.

- The tortilla is ready, girls!

- Oh my god, yes! - Whoa!

- Well, that looks incredible. - Please, Margaret.

Help me with the plates, come on.

- It smells incredible, Labita. - With extra onion, to please the gentlemen.

- Ooh yes, I love it.

Yes, OK, I want the biggest one. I'm starving.

- This one's for you, darling. - Mm, that looks good.

- Why do you massage yourself with lemon oil,

if you eat after like a pig?

- Eh, shh. - Makes no sense.

- Hanz loves me just the way I am.

- And the clients love your curves, too.

- Eh, what curves?

- Delilah.

- Thank you! It's paradise!

- This one is for me and this one is for Inga.

- Thank you.

- You know, my dear, I'm at an age to retirement.

Huh. - Oh, come on.

- Guess what I would like to do in my life now, huh?

In my dream.

- What? - Hm?

- I want to be a private cook for the girls.

- Oh, - Yes! Oh god yes. I vote yes.

- It's my dream. It's a good idea.

I mean it. I'm serious. Think about it.

- I'm thinking about it.

- The thing with out jobs,

is that we do not have a retirement age.

- Well, I think it's way less tragic

being here eating tortillas, than any other job,

tiring yourself out for a shitty salary.

- Yeah, that's true.

- No, but really,

the only thing a checkout girl has over a sex worker,

is being able to say what she does all day without blushing.

- You're such a bitch, Justine.

- No. I think she says out loud what everyone thinks in silence.

- It's true. I spent two years of my life

working in two different "normal" jobs.

Day and evening, huh.

Six days a week. I never saw my daughter.

I arrived home so tired,

it was the nanny who had to explain to me

what has she done in her journey.

And I was left in that apartment, silent as the grave.

With the leftovers for dinner.

A fucking sad life.

- Gosh. - It was awful.

A shitty life.

- That's tough. - So, I then began to work here

four days a week, right, Inga?

With time for my daughter.

Let me tell you, it was a no brainer.

- Yes, but you were lucky, you had the choice.

- Ah, we always have a choice, Delilah.

- It's funny, the other day I was thinking its...

weird we don't know our names.

- I'm sure we never will.

- Yeah, it's like a reminder that this is not real life.

- What?

I'm sorry, but it is.

I mean, to me, this is real life.

Since Hanz had his accident,

my hospital shifts weren't enough to live on.

So... it's hard to get more real than that.

- But what Lorna is trying to say,

is that we are different people when we are here.

I mean, it's a parallel world.

- Thank you.

- And actually, I wonder if we just...

don't show our true selves here.

- What do you mean? You're a real psychopath, huh?

- No.

- Anyway, this tortilla is real, huh? - Yes.

- Let me tell you. - Yes, it's very good.

- Why would you want to know our names, Justine?

- Cuz, she's a detective.

- Names are important to you, huh?

- Yeah. - It's cute.

- You know what's important to me?

Beautiful nails.

And look at those little fuckers.

The assholes are gonna have to pay a bunch of money

to kiss and suck on them.

Two-fifty each!

I have ten. That's a lot of money.

Want a toe, too?

- Better not. Better not.

- It's so weird to see a woman in the men's room.

- I know.

- She's beautiful, no?

- She's so elegant.

- The lady's for you, Justine. - OK.

- The mirror room. One hour. Normal rate.

- I'm not a lesbian, you know.

- I'm not a lesbian, either.

- I was in Berlin for work and...

I just wanted to try. - Mm-hm.

- Um...

I thought it would be like... I don't know.

A bubble.

- A bubble is nice.

- I want to kiss you.

May I?

- It's 20 euros extra.

- Alright.

- Um, I took over this bar a year ago.

- Oh. - So it's new.

- It's real nice.

- Well, thanks.

And you?

What do you do to...?

- Well, that's a question.

- Oh, no!

Is it so bad?

- I'm a writer.

See, I've published two books, with a third one coming.

- What? It's...

That's great! Bravo!

- The third one is about a brothel,

and for research, I've become a whore.

What?

For real?

- Mm-hm.

- I'm sorry. No, sorry. I, um...

I don't know what to say, um...

That's wild, no?

- It's not bad.

I don't worry.

I don't think so.

- OK.

- There are days when it all seems clear.

Good. I'm in my place,

when I'm there.

But then...

- You're serious?

- Yes.

The girls I work with are great.

I could just listen to their stories all day,

watch them work.

And maybe you think I'm crazy for this choice,

but I need to be compensated to write a book.

- Wow, it's...

- It's OK.

You're shocked. I'll go.

- No! No, no, no, no. No, it's more, um...

a surprise.

- For sure.

- Ian, can you help me for a second?

- Yeah, yeah.

Uh, I'll be back.

Just don't go.

Please, wait right here. Don't go.

Yeah.

Don't worry about it, man.

Um...

When we were at the park,

my impression was that you...

enjoyed it.

- I enjoyed it very much.

I did, for sure.

That's why I wanted to tell you the truth.

- I'm not exactly sure I can satisfy you.

- Ian, you don't get it.

Really.

At the brothel it's mechanical.

Not at all like when you have... no payment.

So, when you desire who you want...

I'd forgotten how good it is.

I feel proud, I do.

I give others pleasure.

I do good.

But not my own.

When I get home I'm dead.

Do you get what I'm saying?

Or do you think I'm crazy?

- I want to do good, too.

To you.

- Hey.

- Hey.

- I'm warning you.

I don't trust you.

Not one bit.

I know this isn't your life here, I see it.

You watch us, you ask questions

and nobody knows nothing about you.

Listen, the other girls here may have nothing to lose,

but not me.

- Dorothy, I'd never-- - I saw the notebooks in your locker.

Yeah.

I don't know what you are, fucking journalist or whatever.

Just be very careful what you do.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, honey!

Why are you crying? Delilah? Delilah?

Delilah, What's wrong?

- What's up, Delilah? - What's wrong, sweetie?

- Don't touch me!

- What happened?

Are you OK?

Calm down. What did he do? What did he do to you?

Delilah.

Where the fuck is Inga?

- I have no idea. - Jesus!

- Check. Who was her last client?

- Victor. - Victor?

- Take yourself out of this house, understand me?!

Something like that will get you banned!

Do you understand?!

- Yeah?! - Sorry.

- No! No! No! No! Get out!

- Punk! - There's enough of that!

You've no respect for us. Get out!

I've had it with these sickos!

- Inga.

- Don't be ridiculous.

I see, they've understood something

we just don't have in France.

But that won't stop those creeps,

uh, attacking women.

- You don't know.

- No, but you don't neither.

How's the writing?

- Thank you.

Um... so-so.

It's OK.

I've hundreds of pages of notes, but I need a moment.

I've got a guy.

I think I'm in love.

- So, now you'll get married, start a family.

- You don't know.

Know what they say here?

A man is married, a whore is born.

Those Germans are good!

- I've never felt dirty.

- I know.

- People pity the whore.

They have some problem with the woman doing this.

Why can't a woman do this by choice?

- Yeah.

- I do believe prostitution is a nightmare for most women.

But we must also hear

from those who choose it.

If I join up, this will have to end, yeah?

- I know.

- My mom did this stuff.

- I didn't want to.

- Yeah, it's like a fucking childhood trauma!

- Ah, your trauma, it's real! - Ah, well...

- Yes. - You see it?

That's so nice of you.

- OK, guys. You should put a bit less water.

This is impossible to cook like that,

but otherwise, it's very nice.

- OK. - Keep on going.

- Thank you. Thank you. - Thank you.

Yeah, she doesn't get fine art.

- No, she doesn't see the artist you are.

- But what for? - What for?

- She won't see it. - Yeah.

- Emma? - Yeah?

A bit...

No, no, lower.

Wait, just, wait...

- Ah, thanks so much. - That's better. There.

- Shh. Shh.

Sorry, I destroyed your childhood trauma.

- And there's your future.

- Ian, that's too far!

- Wait, sorry, take my fine art, if you want.

- I'm proud of myself. - Me too.

It's not bad.

I'm hungry.

- I am, too. You know the restaurant we passed?

- With the soup? - Yes, that's it.

- With pleasure! - Yay!

- We can put the soup inside these.

Hey, you good?

Emma, I've lost you.

- It's OK. It's OK.

- What's up?

- Nothing. I thought I saw someone.

- You know, honey, you're gonna have to get used to it.

Many girls quit.

It happens all the time.

You know, one guy... long time client,

- Mm-hm.

- after he came, he always put the condom in his pocket.

Somebody had told him that there were hookers

who injected client's sperm to get pregnant

and blackmailed them afterwards.

- No, you're not serious?

- Swear to God.

- And you never told him anything?

- No.

That's one of the things that drives me crazy about our work.

- Yeah. - We could break that shitty male ego like this?

But we don't,

because they are the money.

- That pretty much nails it.

- Justine, you're appointment is here.

Tropical room.

- OK.

See you later. - Yeah.

- Hello.

Justine?

- Yes.

- You look young.

How old are you?

Shh...

You look almost...

almost 18.

Or younger.

- Yes.

Maybe I'm not, just yet.

- No, no, no. Keep it. Keep it.

It's a beautiful outfit.

I like young girls.

You feel the effect you have on me?

Yeah?

Blow me.

- I need a condom. - Raw.

- No, I don't do that.

- You wanna run away? - Mm-mm.

- You little whore!

- Wait! I don't... I don't run away.

- That's OK.

- OK. OK.

Let me find a condom.

- It's OK. It's OK.

It's OK.

No, don't do it!

- Hang on a second.

- No. No!

Let me-- Let me-- - Shut the fuck up! Shut up!

Shut up!

- Tell me your 16.

Tell me your 16.

- I'm-- I'm 16.

I'm 15.

I'm 14.

I'm 13.

I'm 12.

I'm 11.

I'm 11.

Help me!

- Hey!

- Hey.

Ooh, la la.

- Hi. - Hey.

- I've tried to make a veal stew.

- Oh, well. - Yeah.

For 2 hours I've been...

It's complex!

French cuisine is complicated.

All good?

- I'm just a little tired.

It smells good.

- A glass of wine? Wine.

- I think I'll take a shower, OK?

- Uh, your sister left a note.

Um, she's at Lena's tonight.

- Ah, OK. OK.

- Emma?

I'm doing my better.

But, um...

Um...

I'm think you understand that this situation

is not easy for me.

- I do.

Not for me either.

- How so?

- Um, I just think, uh...

I'm not a good partner.

- Hey, hey.

- You may think without this job, I'm better.

Ian, I'm not attentive, faithful, caring,

that's what you want.

You know I'm different.

- You know I understand.

Hey, Mum?

Mum, I wanted to hear you.

No, I'm not all right.

I wanted to talk.

Not a day goes by,

not an hour working on this book,

that I'm not aware that I've chosen the wrong side

in this story.

In this case, I should have been a man.

I'd have been the king of clients.

If, just for one night,

one very long night,

I could have my woman's mind in a young man's body,

not too young or handsome.

They don't move the whores the most.

I'd have a pounding heart, maybe a hard-on, too.

In the lift up to The House,

there's a smell like a red carpet,

the childish, maternal, vicious breath of a well-dressed girl,

smoking in secret in the laundry room.

- Hello.

Please have a seat.

I'll call the girls for you.

- Entering The House,

I'd sense them hiding behind the curtain to see the newcomer.

I'd sit so that the girls could see me

before presenting themselves.

Who would come first? Brigida?

- Hello, handsome.

- With her firm voice, her bygone icon face,

the heels she takes on and off like slippers.

- I am Brigitta.

- Hi, handsome.

- Dorothée, with her sly smile,

a girl who isn't there to be cuddled.

- Come play with me.

- Lorna, with her Murillo virgin bust.

- I'm Lorna.

- Adorable from the front,

disturbing from behind, as she leaves the room

with that majestic ass.

Hildie,

Queen of Whores,

her carnivorous pout leaving no room for doubt,

inventing tender nicknames for each client.

Margaret,

five foot nine of black and golden skin,

her smell of jasmine.

All of them.

Send them all to me.

She'd be lying down,

no matter what her pussy was like.

She'd show it like a woman

who's forgotten God is in the details,

however much, despite the money, it remains a gift.

I'd barely brush the fine skin around her sleeping clitoris,

I'd look at each fold, each vain,

wondering which one really led to her head.

I'd slowly caress each pearly stretch mark,

each feature of this body altar, on which so many men

unburden themselves each day,

bringing this goddess their pity, indifference, frustration,

their joys and sorrows.

When we leave the brothel,

will we lose this acute awareness of being a woman?

How do we isolate this piece of our lives from the rest?

Once you've worked in a brothel,

you can never go back.

Other people may never know.

It's not written on a girl's forehead.

But us...

we know.

I thought I'd write about men. I only wrote about women.

This den of women and girls, mothers and wives,

who create and destroy with delicate fingers

the illusory notion of the sacred.

I want to talk about them because they exist.

They leave in this empty boat

the disturbing smell of 1,000 varieties of love,

of tenderness sought and found,

each in their own way.

There's no nobility in it,

but there are touching truths, to be found nowhere else.

And someone has to talk about them.

A stupid idea, I told you.

Or maybe not.