A Model Story
Red middle-aged writer
Mrs P Old landlady
Mr Smith Self-made millionaire
Mrs Smith His ex-model wife
michelle Failing model
Albert Young Chef
Maria Mexican illegal immigrant
Lilly Vietnamese girl from convenience store
The scene: a run-down looking house. A wealthy couple are show to a grubby room with a bed, a table, a chair, a wardrobe and a poster of Hawaii
Mrs P:no guns, no knives, explosives... don't laugh, I've seen it all. Keep the noise to a dull roar and no throwing up in public areas. Apart from that, there's no rules.
The landlady leaves them alone.
Mrs Smith: We gave up a week in the Hamptons for this.
Mr Smith: This is perfect. It's just what we talked about. Trying something different, dangerous.
Mrs Smith: Ok, what are the rules?
Mr Smith: Good. There are no rules.
Mrs Smith: Except no guns or explosives
Mr Smith: Yeah. This weekend we have to do anything the other asks, no holds barred. Let's get breathless again.
Mrs Smith: Ok, who starts?
Mr Smith: Well, I've bought some costumes.
[He opens a bag. It contains a basque, G-string, bra, suspenders, stockings and stilettos]
Mrs Smith: Oh Jeez, Mike. You want me to wear this stuff? [She laughs, but starts to undress. She looks at herself in the mirror] Still got a body you don't find on a street corner. [He kisses her breast. She pushes him away and puts the kit on] What now?
Mr Smith: Sit in the chair and wait.
Hall. michelleis walking past robert s open door.
michelleis a poor, unsuccessful model. robert is a chef with a tongue as sensitive as an open wound and a touch as delicate as a butterfly dancing on talcum powder. Tonight he has a wedding banquet to prepare, but he is distracted.*
michelle: That smells good. What is it?
[Albert stands with a plate of canapés]
Albert: Hi, Marcelle. They're sesame and ginger prawns in pastry boats with plum sauce. You look beautiful tonight.
michelle: Oh Albert, could I taste one? I've never had a prawn thingy before.
robert: No, sorry Marcelle.
michelle: Oh Albert please, I'm starving. I'll swap you something.
robert: OK, you show me your breast and you can have one, just one.
michelle: Which one?
robert: Any one.
michelle: No, which breast?
robert: Oh, the left one. [michelle exposes her breast and grabs a canapé]
Marcelle: [with mouthful] Mmmm, mmmm.
You want to see the other one? [She pulls him into his room. It is a feast of exotic food.] Oh my, I never imagined... OK, one of these for a feel. [robertkisses her breast]
robert: Oh michelle, take it off. [The robe slips to the floor] How about this, a hand-job for a bowl of crudités?
michelle: Well... I don't know, robert.
robert: With a choice of dips and wine...
michelle: Done! [She pulls up his apron and starts manipulating his cock]
robert: I've got to lick you all over. I must taste you. It's a professional thing.
michelle: Well I don't know... oh, seeing as its you. Those plates and some champagne. [They make love. Each new position gains Marcelle a new course. Finally, only the wedding cake is left.]
robert: No, michelle. Not the cake...
michelle: I've got to have it. Bugger me, robert! Bugger me for a wedding cake!
[Marcelle is finally sated. Albert masturbates into a pastry case as if he's piping icing. She pops it into her mouth.]
michelle: That was epic, nothing beats sex and food. Hey, you doing anything for dinner tomorrow? [Albert groans]