scenes

This film is a warning.

We are on the patio of a quick dining restaurant in the suburban sprawl. Late afternoon. Faint red-blue projection on the walls from the LED disco ball as the DJ sets up his stand. Glass and tuscan style patio furniture covered in leaves, laminated menus slightly wet with condensation. We see an older man in his late 60s, early 70s with balding white hair. Fat, wearing a black t-shirt over his sun-damaged arms.

A sweet, young-looking poor girl with a blonde bob, wearing a tank and shorts, inappropriate for the weather. Small enough tits to get away with not wearing a bra. Histrionic look in her eye. She sits next to her mother, a desperate middle aged housewife in her 40s.

The mother makes some inaudible long joke before the punchline. He exaggeratedly slams on the black metal table, hard enough to make it shake. He talks to the mother while making eye contact with the girl.

Hey, if it’s old enough to bleed.

The man winks.

Do you think this Wednesday would work?
We’ll need a few extra hours this summer.

I think she just wants to relax with me until she leaves in the Fall.

It’s okay. I’d be happy to help.

The man and the girl sit in his truck. Older model with miniature seats facing each other, compacted in the back. Roll-down windows. Polyester rubs against her back, broken air conditioning with the windows up. He drives while she stares down at her knees.

So, what are you up to? Do you have a boyfriend this year?

No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t think boys really like me, but that’s okay.

Sorry kid, that’s sad. Why don’t you talk to me about it? Let me pull over.

He drives down a couple blocks, and pulls into an abandoned corporate car park.

It must be pretty hard being a girl your age, and being so lonely. All those hormones rushing around. Your generation has changed a lot. I remember when I was your age, I’d spend all day with my girlfriend. She looked a little like you. We’d have a little fun in the car her father bought her for her birthday. Kids these days just don’t get a lot of chances to make a real connection. I’m sure you have a lot of frustration.

Yeah, it’s hard.

I mean, I know you’re old enough to ask, but what do young people do these days to relieve it? What kind of porn do you watch?

No, I’ve never really seen it before.

Never seen it? Well then, what do you like to think about when you, you know.

He makes a jerk-off motion, they laugh together. She blushes and pulls a strand of her hair back.

I don’t know, I’m not sure if I’ve ever tried.. This is silly, but I used to have a little crush on you. Sometimes when I fall asleep, I think about when I was really little, when you came over to our house, I’d sit on your lap while you watched football with my dad, and you’d...

We see his hand reaching down from the front seat.

Close up on her face. Her mouth opens, distorting wide, unable to tell if she’s in agony or pleasure. Nothing comes out.

Cut.

The Director, no more than 23. Skinny kid with bad skin and rimless glasses, wearing a drenched polo and sweatbands covering old scars. Long brown hair. Pathetic. Pulls the chair out beside the monitor, and motions to offer it to her.

She coughs and her face goes back to normal. She looks pissed. She takes a robe from the PA. He leans in to whisper to her.

You did great. We’re just going to try that last part again, alright? Open up a few centimeters wider, and look in the direction of the light until your eyes get tired. This time try to make it a little louder, try to make her look a little scared. Get more intense with it.

I would have thought you got it after the first few dozen times I screamed my lungs out, but yes, I’ll try scared.

Look, just think about it. I’m sure as a woman you can understand. It’s her first time. She’s never fucked before, and she’s nervous. Inexperienced. She’s being adventurous by letting this old guy finger her around. He’s breaking her hymen up, and she’s feeling something she’s never felt before. The feeling of true freedom. Pain.

This is the first stage of her personal and sexual awakening, it sets the scene for when she comes back to stab him in the mansion, before the ending.

I’ll see if I can muster up the feeling to kill someone.

She moves back into place, opens her mouth to a yawn.
Pauses to collect herself. A finger shoves inside.
She screams louder than any other take.

The Actor shakes the lock getting into the trailer. He looks younger with the grey washed out. Tan linen button down, gold chain. He shoves the door open. It’s pitch black inside.

The Actress stands at the far end, eyes reflecting the light from the microwave. legs bent like an injured doe to show him where she’s been. reflecting wet thighs as he grabs his hard cock through his khakis, crouching down as he moves towards her.

Please, don’t

Holds her head back like he’s stunning an animal. his stomach compresses her against the tile floor. He slips himself inside, pounding her tight little ass as she squirms underneath him.

I love you, my little girl.

Feel his stomach rising with each breath, skin to skin
shaking as he bangs her body into the floor
fingers in her mouth, muffled
she turns static

Oh my fucking god I love your cock.

Cut to her cradled in his chest on the leather built-in couch. Watching the city loop on the television.

How was he this time?
The window situation is over. Kind of cute, like a panting dog. It’s easier to just let him do it.

This is our fourth?
Fifth.
Your first starring.
Maybe my last.

I love him, but he acts like a child.
He still is one, mostly.
You sure you want to stay this time?
I want to be seen.
Retirement isn't always a choice.

Eyes stare white on the weather. Legs crossed sitting on the cheap blue printed motel quilt without underwear. Holed out oversized walmart t-shirt, chopped wig. She holds a greased bag before the lights heat up the morning, fingers rubbed on shirt. Hash browns and egg sandwiches. Sound of cops running around outside the blackout windows, near the grey Mazda with the marks on the passenger door.

The Man stands close to grab her head, pressing her face against the hard seam in his pants. He turns to unzip them, and we hear a gagging sound, her face obscured aside from her watering - or crying - eyes.

The Girl gives him a pleading look.

It depends on if you play your role or not. If you don't learn how to work for fifteen minutes, you'll live a life that's all work. Smile a little more, and I'll make sure you're always taken care of.

His pelvis covers her face. The man curses as he grabs her head. He pulls away, and we see the aftermath of her face. In pain. Degraded. Dripping. Tears streaming down her face, the kind of dirt you can't scrub out. The look of someone waiting to disconnect.

Don't you find it a little unrealistic?
What do you mean?
No one's paying for this kind of lifespan. I'm not the same guy, am I?

No. They’re different men in her life, but more a representation of what those people occupy in her mind. They’re all permanent, all one. Just like she's playing herself at any age. When you look at her, you're seeing her across time.

I don't even have any lines in this.

See, this is when she becomes mute, she locks herself in the bathroom to hang herself from the ceiling fan after giving head to her boyfriend who whores her out to decrepit old men he finds online.

What is it worth if I don't have anything to say?

The Director lifts The Actress by her chin, wiping her mouth bled white with his thumb.
Show me your eyes.

Wet transfers shaking hands. Urgent with tears. She meets him with something that can only happen once.

He checks the camera.
Can you do that again, exactly the same as last time?

The set without people becomes a museum. You look around, and know exactly where you stand.

You’re beautiful. Up close, the way your hair reflects the light. Soft yellow red. Your lips, your cheeks, so.
The Director masturbates inches away from her thigh, panting in whisper.

Can you fucking help me out with this one?
He grabs her wrist, forcing her palm on him.
She slaps him. He comes on her hand.

Spoiled brat.
Did you fuck him?
Yes.
Do you fuck everyone?
No.
Why won’t you fuck me?
Because.
I love you.

I’m grateful to work with you.
Everyone gets fucked with, or makes it happen.
When I reached 28, I made a choice.
You’re lucky he still keeps you around.
We both are.

You have to get hard again.
Pulls hard on his limp cock with her hand covered in his cum, squirming until he makes it halfway there. She crawls down to the corner of the room to spread wide.

Rubbing rose tinted, flushed red and purple skin between his fingertips. Compresses the base of his cock to barely force it in. Kissing breasts and collarbones. He makes awkward, weak thrusts for a few minutes in near silence.

Her face turned away, motionless, staring out into space like a doll.

How many times has he done it to you?
We’ve been together since the day we met.
How old was I?
Eleven.
I’ve loved you since I met you.
No, you haven’t.

He makes soft arrhythmic motions between grunts, staring at her profile.

Have you ever touched a woman before?
I want to be gentle with you.

Grabs by the base of his neck, knocking flatline. Legs consume him, struggling for breath as she grinds against his body while he’s deep inside.

I finish hard, fast, and often. Don’t be afraid to pound my cervix. Make me scream so hard that it rings forever.

You’re hurting me.

Grasping voice as she clasps harder around his throat. He comes instantly inside her.

Face buried in her breasts, wrapped around her waist. Hyperventilating as he sobs into skin. Grabbing onto fistfuls to pull him out, like a scared kid begging to be picked up when they're too tired to walk.

Thank you.

She stares at the overhead grid of the black container. In the morning, before the crew starts arriving, the changes are made.

A piece of pale warm white wrapped in organza, a swan in newspapers with a broken neck. Crushed miniature cups across the ground to aid in the process.

Face down on a blue tarp over concrete, seeping through an open rock. Pair of pants on the floor covered in dried semen and blood. A man’s soaked wristbands float above the closet.

Men hang around to take a shot in the dark, until someone says the picture is clear.

The gaffers turn on the day again.
The cameras roll.

I always loved you.