- Aunt Clare? It's Edoardo. - Dodo, how are you?
- Fine. Is Sylvia there? - No. She's out.
Ah well, it doesn't matter.
Shall I have her call you?
No, just tell her I'll be expecting her for dinner.
THE VOYEUR
Were you daydreaming?
I was remembering back before you left me.
You know I didn't leave you.
Sorry, I couldn't be here earlier.
- Men? - Hardly... Just busy.
Have you ordered yet?
No, what will you have?
The usual:
chicken with almond and fried rice.
For two.
Anyway, thanks for coming.
Well, I'm still your wife. Am I not?
Then you could come home.
Lay off, Dodo.
I've already told you it just isn't possible for now.
If I insisted to see you, it's because I have some news.
- Oh, yeah? What? - I've got a house to offer you.
- And it'll be all ours. - Oh, really? What house?
The apartment above my father's.
I've decided to ask him for it as an advance on my inheritance.
What brought this all on?
- I'm doing it for you. - For me? How do you mean?
So that we can live without my father.
What's he got to do with it?
I know you can't stand him.
You're wrong, he's fascinated me ever since
I took his classes at the university.
If anything, you're the one who can't stand him.
Tell me why you left then!
Why do you always make me repeat myself?
I needed some time alone to think things over
and understand what's happening to me.
Don't insist, please.
If there's someone else, just tell me!
It wasn't the house.
That's okay, sir. You need something?
I'm sorry.
Even if it wasn't the house,
I'll still ask for the apartment.
Even though I didn't run away,
do whatever you think is right.
Let's make love, Dodo, here, right now.
What do you mean? How?
With our eyes, like the first time.
Watch me.
- Do you like it? - Drives me crazy.
Looks like the hackles of a wild cat.
What else? What else does it make you think of?
The crest of a rooster.
More, Dodo, say something else!
A plume of a helmet. A brush.
- A living den. - Oh yeah, a living den.
- Go ahead, touch it. - I'd rather watch.
- I've got to go. - Shall I go with you?
Morning, Fausta. Is my father up yet?
You bet.
What's "you bet" mean?
- That's for me to know. - Explain yourself.
Too complicated. Don't bother.
What've you got against Dad this morning?
You can take him his breakfast today.
When I stick the needle in his ass,
you can stay and see for yourself.
See what?
Where he tries to touch me,
the way he wants me to touch him,
the things he'd like me to do.
- And? - Don't you get it?
No, I don't.
He does everything to make sure I touch him...
you know where. Now do you get it?
- So that's the way it is, eh? - Yeah, it's like that.
Can't you stop him?
I tried to, but he ignores it.
If you want to quit,
someone else can take care of him.
No no, I don't want to leave.
I just wanted you to know.
- Why? - Just so that you would know.
Okay, we'll discuss this again
some other time.
Look out. I'm holding the needle.
Promise me you won't tell your father.
As you wish.
He is a great man.
I wouldn't like to see him hurt.
He's just a bit stubborn.
Maybe from his point of view he's right
and if it'll make him happy, I'Il--
- You're very charitable. - Hell no, I'm not.
Your father pays me three times the going rate.
You must have that magic touch.
Oh yeah, it's my fairy fingers
but I don't feel anything for him.
Not that he cares about me either.
He's just got a one-track mind, that's all.
All right. I won't say a word.
And remember, don't leave till I come in with the shot.
Come in!
He got it.
- Who? - The cat.
He's been stalking that sparrow for the last ten minutes.
That's dedication.
And whose side were you on?
The bird's, son, of course.
- You're looking good. - Oh yes, as fit as a fiddle.
They might try to stand me on my feet today.
Pass me the yogurt, would you?
That way I'll be ready for the shot.
How are things with Silvia?
Pretty well, I think.
I saw her yesterday. We talked about you too.
About me? That's nice. A propos of what?
The apartment upstairs.
I told her I'd ask you for it as and advance on my inheritance.
- And? - She seemed to agree.
I'm glad to hear that.
I never really understood why she left.
Neither did I.
Maybe because of the house.
The house?
I'm convinced she wanted a place of her own...
our own. It has nothing to do with you.
It's a perfectly legitimate and very feminine desire.
Tell her the apartment is yours, both of yours!
- Thank you, dad. - Anyway, they're moving
the notary's office now that he's dead.
You'll have to do some work on it.
Knock-knock.
Aren't you going to the university?
I have a class later.
Would you like him to leave?
Why? He's my son, not some stranger.
Don't hurt me.
Take it easy,
that's sweet meat.
Your hand sure doesn't hurt, does it, Professor?
Come on, turn over.
It's for you. Someone named Patrizia.
Oh, right. Give it to me.
They might get me up today.
Yes, all right. Almost up then.
Fausta's here, the nurse.
And my son too.
Don't worry.
Want to bet?
I'll prove it when you come.
I'll swear on my life.
- Morning, countess. - Morning.
The elevator's out of order again. It's a disgrace.
It never seems to be working.
If it hadn't been out of order that day,
your father would never have had that terrible fall.
By the way, how is he?
- Very well, thank you. - He's an extraordinary man.
They don't make them like that anymore.
I'm sorry, but I'm a bit late.
- Give him my best, don't forget. - Goodbye and thank you again.
But the voyeuristic scene par excellence
is the one described by Herodotus
and later echoed by Gide in "Le roi Candaule." While undressing,
the queen is being spied on by the king's favorite,
who is also spied on by the king himself.
What we have is a two-fold
form of voyeurism
or a carambole of scopophilia if you prefer.
Doesn't "voyeur" just mean "peeping Tom"?
It means "the man who watches."
What does scopophilia mean? "Desire to screw"?
It means "the pleasure of watching."
I could go on and give you many other examples
to back up my conviction that voyeurism
or, if you prefer, scopophilia
is a vital element in literature and narrative
just as-- but that goes without saying--
it is in cinema and photography.
So not only does the artist
turn us into spectators
of a secret,
intimate, hidden and forbidden act,
but he also transforms us into his accomplices
by involving us in a subversive
quest for knowledge.
The quest, that is, to express
what society normally represses,
by focusing in areas that,
due to hypocrisy, fear and ignorance,
are often excluded
and that yet constitute a vital part of the real life.
That is to say sex in its most extreme,
helpless and naked form.
In all its essential,
carnal and bodily essence.
As it is clearly illustrated
in Mallarmé's poem, "Une negresse par le démon secouée,"
that I'd like you all to think about.
Can someone give these out?
We'll continue tomorrow. Read the papers.
It's a "hard" poem.
Can you give me a ride?
- Where are you going? - Home.
So?
Sure. Come in.
Oh, I almost sat on it.
Don't worry. You're too soft.
Where do you live?
Lungotevere della Vittoria.
That was a good class.
At least you liked it. I'm afraid the others didn't.
Why have I never seen you?
I go to the university now and then, more out of curiosity.
- Curiosity about what? - The teachers!
- Where are you from? - Africa.
I would have said Sweden. Africa's a big place.
Guess.
- Senegal? - No.
- Mali? - Not Mali either.
- Congo? - Very good, Professor,
except it's called Zaire now.
My name's Edoardo, not Professor. Dodo to my friends.
Dodo, how funny.
And you?
Pascasie.
I gathered from your lesson that you like to watch.
To be honest, during the lecture
I felt I was the one being spied on.
What's so special about this poem?
It's a perfect example of literary scopophilia.
Mallarmé's intentions are profanatory
the negress and child are doing a 69.
You know what that is?
Of course. Giving oral sex to each other.
There's nothing scandalous about that.
But it is, and triply so.
It's a 69 between two women--
one adult, the other a child.
One is black and the other white.
That's the subversive quest.
Mallarmé has us observe not only a thing intimate
and private, but also privacy within privacy--
the "pale and pink seashell."
Do you only watch or do you do it too?
- What a mess. - What shall we do?
There isn't much you can do.
- Just sit back and watch. - Well, thanks anyway.
I can walk from here. I live just after the bridge.
Hang on. Maybe there's something I still can do,
like cross that bridge, for example.
There. That's where I live.
So it's goodbye then.
What do you need this one for?
To capture things that catch my eye.
Would you like to capture me?
Yeah, sure, of course.
Not here.
At my place.
- Hi, Gesuina. - I'm Arianna.
- Can you take a picture? - Another time.
They're the porter's kids.
Want to photograph me like Mallarmé's negress?
We'd need a little white girl for that.
- Do you have any children? - What do you say?
- Aren't you married? - Yes. Why do you ask?
Just curious.
We don't have any children.
Are you a voyeur with your wife too?
If anything, I used to be, because she left.
Oh, I'm sorry. Was she beautiful?
More beautiful than you.
Are you saying that because of this? I know it's big.
Unfortunately I've gained weight since I got here.
Unfortunately?
Makes people stare.
That's why I like it. My wife had a big one too.
Come on in.
You're very photogenic and narcissistic.
How do you like them? The photographer is English, Toni.
- I'm an inspiring model. - I can see that.
Is this his apartment?
No, mine. A present from my father.
He's either very rich or very fond of you.
Both. He's a government Minister.
He does the governing and I do the living.
- How do you want me to pose? - I don't know. You decide.
By the looks of things, you know what to do.
For every voyeur there's an exhibitionist, right?
- No comment? - You shaved yourself.
I'm like that by nature. I'm not hairy like you people.
Is it pale and pink like a seashell?
- Don't you notice anything? - What?
This is where white women have a little button
that I don't have.
- The clitoris. - Clitoridectomy.
That's barbaric!
Not anymore than your virginity, prudishness,
or faithfulness. You like watching, don't you?
And you like to be watched.
We were made for each other.
Hi, Toni.
Meet Dodo.
He's my French literature professor.
The real name's Edoardo.
You were having a lesson...
Yes, we were just going over one of his literary theories.
- I took some pictures of her. - Well, I hope he paid you.
Oh no, Toni, not professional photographs, just Polaroid's.
- Look. - I'm not interested.
Look at them, I said!
Stupid black bitch.
Did you hear that?
Jealousy turns her into a racist.
Sorry, Pascasie, but I've really got to go now.
Are you crazy?
The best is yet to come.
Are you angry?
Don't provoke me, Pascasie.
I like it when she blows her top.
She's my personal photographer.
She's only allowed to photograph me.
Are you jealous?
He's not a real photographer. He's just a voyeur.
Know what he told me?
He said he'd like
to see us make love.
A rich black girl
and a poor white one.
Get rid of him. I'll be your slave.
Aunt Clare, sorry for calling so late. It's me again.
That's okay, I was watching TV.
- Has Silvia come in yet? - I'm afraid not, sorry.
Did she say where she was going?
She never does. Would you like to leave a message?
No, doesn't matter. I'll call back tomorrow.
Sorry for bothering you.
Where the hell can she be...
at this hour?
Don't make me beg for it.
Quiet, Professor, your son might hear us.
To hell with my son. Come here, come on.
No. We agreed-- watching only.
Give me a good look then, damn it! Just like the magazine photo.
- Which one? There are so many. - The one holding the book.
God, you can be so fussy.
This, all right?
Spread your legs.
- Haven't you had a good look? - No, not until it's fully open.
- With this book in my hand. - Throw it away, who needs it?
Now really, Professor,
do you always have a hard on?
What can I do?
Professors have a lot of time to think
and think and rethink. Where do the thoughts end?
- Here. - Good girl.
You like them all, don't you think I know?
Damn you, want it to go soft again?
Right. Now the cigar.
You know you shouldn't.
The doctor said no smoking for you.
Yeah, keep it there for a while.
Get it good and wet.
Now bring it to me.
Ah, divine.
- Touch me a little. - That wasn't the deal.
- I'll pay 20 injections. - 30.
Okay, but hold it in your hand.
I'm only doing this to keep you happy.
Yeah, to keep me happy. Good, that's it.
What a big cock you have.
Do you like it? Who's is bigger? Mine or Dodo's?
How should I know? I've never seen your son's.
I knew it. What's he waiting for?
Then he complains that his wife leaves him.
Easy there, slow down. God, Fausta.
- You drive me crazy. - I know who really drives you crazy.
Shut up. Cut out the bullshit
- and take it in your mouth. - No, not in the mouth.
- 40 injections. - Not even for 50.
60... the price of two university seminars.
Don't insist. I said no.
Stop it! See what you've done now?
Your fault. Pick them up.
Is that okay, Professor?
Fuck no, it isn't,
but it'll have to do.
If only your son could see us.
Stop talking about my son all the time.
Are you in love with him?
It's different with him.
He still loves his wife.
Do you think she loves him?
How should I know? That's something you ought to know.
- You who? - You you, his father.
Turn it off, you moron!
Want to ruin everything? Go to bed.
There's the money, but God help you.
If you give it to that asshole boyfriend of yours...
- What are you doing here? - Guess.
- What do you want from me? - Not to think badly of me.
- About what? - Last night.
And why should I?
I spotted you spying on me.
I wasn't spying. I just wanted to see what was going on.
I didn't do it for the money.
I just did it to please your father.
He's a great man.
But you still took the money.
He's a great man but he's old.
You're a generous soul.
If it'd been anyone else, not for all the gold in the world.
- You think so? - I swear.
Can I tell you the truth?
That's what you're here for.
I satisfied him because I knew you were watching me.
- Don't talk nonsense. - Really.
I liked knowing you could see me
and maybe you were a bit jealous.
- And maybe excited too? - Well, why not?
So, did you do it for him, for me watching,
to make me jealous or excite me?
You're really mean to me.
Your dad's nicer. That's why women like him.
- What women? - Lots.
What do you know?
All those visits he gets.
The countess, for example.
Old bags.
Wouldn't say that. Some of them are your wife's age.
I don't want all women to like me
or to be like my father.
You and your mother look so cute in this picture.
Speaking of photographs...
which ones were you talking about last night?
Would you like to see them? I'll go get them.
Look.
There they are.
- Gosh, who took these? - My boyfriend.
I didn't know he'd send them to the magazine.
Do you like them? Very artistic, aren't they?
Oh yeah, you look terrific.
You didn't need to show my father.
Me? He's the one who showed them to me.
One day he opened the magazine and said, "That's you, isn't it?"
I couldn't deny it.
He's got every single issue.
Well, well, the great man.
Who would have thought it?
There's no harm. He's old,
he's got no time to waste.
Exactly.
Your father's jealous of you.
What are you talking about?
Did you hear when he asked me whose was the biggest?
- So? - Well, it's obvious, isn't it?
What is?
He's afraid of the comparison.
I really don't think so.
Can I give you a kiss?
The physiotherapist!
He's already here.
Here? Here then.
Yes... but not a lot.
- How about here? - Ouch. Kills me.
Sorry. We didn't mean to hurt your Little-Red-Riding-Hood.
- Poor Little Riding Hood... - It's no Riding Hood.
In spite of its age, it can still give a good ride.
Do you think you can do something?
Do we think? Are you having me on?
In just three or four sessions.
Fiore Bastien de Bruson del Dolo
will have you on your feet and fitter than an athlete.
All I want is to stay as I am, but without the pain.
We'll be needing...
a long table.
- This one? - It'll do.
On our feet, Professor.
Up we go.
Up we go, come on.
Good. Up, come on.
Here you go. Great.
No!
Who told you to do anything, you dumb cunt?
You're not needed.
Not by you anyway, that's for sure.
Can't you two see I'm standing?
- Splendid. Now walk to the table. - You're a wizard.
I'm no wizard. Just a bit of gray matter, as we say in Venice.
The wisdom of a pauper, a lamp that can be lit,
the beauty of a hooker: these things are worth shit!
Come on, one more step.
- Wonderful, Dad. - Hurray for Fiore.
Excellent, Professor. Another two steps.
At last.
We did it. Know what, Professor?
If you feel up to standing, we can do the massage right here.
Sure I do!
- Who's today's victim? - Molière.
Oh, very highbrow... as you can see.
I've been demoted to more lowbrow stuff myself.
Stop giggling and pour me some of this.
Down we go, Professor.
Lower.
At your age, it takes longer...
the thigh I mean.
Do you massage women like this too?
Good heavens, no! Women have muscles!
- Now, Dad, about the apartment. - I said it was yours, didn't I?
Yes, I need the key to let Silvia look around.
The porter has it.
Hello?
- It's the misses... - Looking for Dodo?
I don't know. She said the Professor.
Senior or junior?
It's for you.
I called you last night. I'd like to see you.
At 3:00? Okay. Wherever you like.
Why at the movies?
Okay, see you there at 3:00.
I need to go.
My compliments, again.
Right. Tell Silvia to quit being so grouchy with me.
She has a whole place for herself now!
Know what I say?
Tomorrow we'll bring you the crutches.
- You won't believe the relief. - I bet I'll be flying.
We'd better clear things up once and for all?
The apartment isn't
the only reason why I'm not coming back to you.
There's another one.
What?
Is there another man?
Yes... if you like,
there's another man.
Why didn't you tell me?
Hey, what movie are you watching here?
I tried to get through to you,
but you were so involved with the apartment...
Besides, I was ashamed.
To tell me about it or to do it?
This man... I don't love him.
So why are you with him?
I can't see any point in us seeing each other.
No, please. Don't go.
I need you.
I doubt that.
But I do. Oh, Dodo.
If I know you're there and if we go on
seeing each other,
I'm sure I'll be able to leave him.
But what's stopping you?
I don't know. It's beyond me.
I do all I can to stop seeing him
and then I give in again.
And that's not love?
No, I don't know what it is,
but I do know I don't love him. I love you, Dodo.
I don't feel anything for him,
just a heavy sexual attraction.
So what am I supposed to do?
Hang up his clothes while you two are humping?
Can you tell me what's so irresistible about this man?
- I'd rather not talk about it. - Like fuck!
Tell me who he is, what the fuck he does,
how long it's been going on, everything!
Hey, shut up over there, there are other people here!
- You want details? - Yeah, details.
- I like the way the takes me. - The way he takes you?
From behind.
He bends me over on the table and he fucks me
and I can make all the grimaces I want
because he can't see my face
and I can't see his.
I can think of who I want. He could be someone else,
someone I don't even know, even an animal.
Is that enough?
Oh God, Dodo, why do you want to know everything?
I want you to betray him with me, at least in words.
When we do it, he grabs my hair
from behind and he says,
"You're my sow, Silvia!
Tell me you're my sow,
or I'll break your neck."
And you?
I tell him...
"Yeah, I'm your sow"...
but he twists my neck anyway.
And I come like a sow,
knowing that he loves me
when I say it.
You love him too.
No, I love you, feel this.
Tell me you can't do without me.
Tell me I'm your vice.
Renounce the sublimations
that I loved.
Byron, Beaudelaire,
D'Annunzio, where are you?
Tiziano,
Giorgione,
Veronese and also you, mein herrlicher Klimt.
Did you ever give me this flesh
that ignites my prick?
Well, tell me you're my sow
or I'll twist your neck.
Yes, you know I am, I'm your sow!
Dodo, here are your stamps.
I don't want them anymore.
Ill-mannered little brat! Ill-mannered little brat!
- Thanks for the papers. - Weren't you asleep?
I've been awake for a while. I saw the way you looked at me.
- How was I looking at you? - With hatred.
What? I was looking at you the way one looks at a sleeper.
Forget it then. Your appearance must have fooled me.
You look pretty awful, son. Like a castaway.
What's with you? Something wrong?
No, nothing. Everything's fine.
Good. Help me up. What time is it?
- It's about 8:30. - I slept more than usual.
Bit of a late night last night.
Blame the TV. Would you mind opening the shutters?
Fiore should be turning up with the crutches.
Good sign, means you're cured.
Yeah, so it seems.
Aren't you happy?
Yes, of course.
Although, as long as I was in bed,
I could kid myself into believing I would recover.
Not only from my broken leg but from another disease as well:
old age.
You're not old, Dad.
I don't have the same powers.
What powers?
Intellectual powers, for example, or sexual.
I don't want to be nosy, Dad,
are you saying you've had some affairs recently?
Let's just say I got lucky.
There's something about being sick
that seems to turn women on.
How could you in your state?
It's not hard. Some girls have a hell of a nerve.
They even jump up onto the bed, hike up their skirts
and have no panties on.
You think a father and son ought to be talking like this?
Sometimes I forget you're my father.
Oh, really? How do you mean?
Sometimes I feel that you're my age.
You could easily be my rival in love.
I'm an old man with shriveled skin,
no muscles and the legs of a corpse.
Women don't bother about that sort of thing.
What do you think they bother about?
Vitality. And you've go plenty of that.
I must say, the older I get, the hornier I feel.
I know, I heard you the other night.
What are you talking about?
Don't deny it, come on.
- With Fausta. - I admit it, she drives me crazy.
Why hold back at my age, eh? Or cultivate illusions?
I had to pay her that shameless little--
At times
paying isn't as sleazy as doing it for free.
Maybe, but I haven't had to do that for ages.
Anyway, believe me,
there's nothing like it.
- Paying women? - No, fucking them.
Which is basically
what they really want too.
It's the only way to knock out
that feminist drive.
Beat them into submission and restore some kind of order.
Women, son,
want to be physical...
not metaphysical.
Good morning, Professor.
Today's a great day.
We're going to be trotting all over the globe.
I was a little hot last night.
Thanks to our massages.
They heat you more than a woman can.
Let's not go overboard.
Tell Fausta she can bring me my breakfast.
He needs a tranquilizer, not beaten eggs.
Oh my God! You just love scaring the wits out of me?
The "great man" really has you pampering him, eh?
This is all my own idea.
Now I want some too.
I'll make you one.
I'll do it.
- Where are the eggs? - In the fridge.
- Hear the racket last night? - No, what racket?
Your father must have had a visit.
- He had a woman in there. - Maybe one of his ladies.
- Did you let her in? - Not me.
- Then she had the keys. - Probably from my father.
Impossible.
There are only three sets of keys.
I have one, you have one and your dad has the last.
Last night your father's set was on the desk.
- So? - I don't know...
Apart from us,
there's only one person who has the keys.
Are you insinuating that last night's woman
was my wife?
I don't want to insinuate anything.
Those were your words, Mr. Edoardo.
Mrs. Silvia was with me last night.
Until what time?
I don't owe you explanations!
That's what I say too!
After all, she's my wife.
We've made up,
and we slept together last night.
I'd still say the voice
I heard from your father's room was hers.
You must have misheard,
lots of voices sound alike.
The study door doesn't close. You can hear voices and noises.
What noises?
It sounded like grunts
but gentle ones.
More like moans, really,
but there was no fear or pain.
I tell you, my wife was with me last night.
- Where? - At her aunt's place.
Poor Mr. Edoardo.
Can't you see it's almost curdling?
Do you mind?
But I even saw her, you know.
It must have been sometime around 11:30.
I was in my room
when I heard the hall door open.
It didn't sound like your footsteps.
I stuck my head out to have a look
and I saw a woman in a silver raincoat,
moving quickly to the end of the corridor.
I saw her from behind,
but I'm sure it was your wife.
She went into the professor's room
and closed the door behind her.
I went to eavesdrop
and heard those noises.
You're making it all up.
Poor Dodo,
do you think I'd say these things just to be nasty?
Don't say "poor" to me and don't call me Dodo!
I like you, you know...
Tell me you're my sow...
Tell me or I'll break your neck.
Yes, you know, I'm your sow.
Tell me you're my sow or I'll break your neck.
Stop it! What are you doing?
Let me go! You hurt me.
Have you gone crazy? You hurt me!
I'm sorry. I didn't mean--
I had a dizzy spell.
And because of that
you bashed my head against the sideboard?
Forgive me. I don't know what came over me.
- Some of it got on you too. - Leave it.
We'll send it to the dry-cleaners.
What'll I give your father now?
Give him mine. It's just as good.
You know what then?
Maybe I'll eat this one myself then.
Why did you want me to tell you I'm a sow?
Forget it. Forget the whole thing.
That's no way to treat a lady.
You've got to be gentle, kind...
Look at your father.
When he wants something intimate from me,
he asks me in such an affectionate way
that I would feel really mean if I said no.
Do you understand?
Shitty building.
- Good morning, Edoardo. - Like fuck it is.
Go on, countess, go see the "great man."
He's waiting for you with his huge charisma
and his giant cock.
Run!
Protected zone, access by payment only.
Isn't this a free beach?
Free to do what the fuck you want,
except break balls.
My guarantee: Couples, 5,000 lire;
Peeping Toms, 10,000.
I get it. You're kind of a park supervisor.
Pork supervisor is more like it.
You got nobody?
- In what sense? - To pork with.
Well, there's my wife...
Even better! Wives love to be treated like sows.
Where is she?
I'm afraid I've lost her.
She found herself another cock?
In a certain sense.
"In a certain sense" what?
She's cheating on you or what?
Let's say she pulled a fast one on me.
And it's eating your ass, right?
- Pretty much, even though-- - Even though what?
"Cursed be that fool who first intermingled things of love
with things of honor." You know who said that?
A French poet named Beaudelaire,
and he was right.
Yeah, but there was that fool
and he sure fucked you.
So what's it gonna be, you paying or moving out?
I'll pay, I'll pay... Peeping Tom rate.
Have fun. I'm going to check things out down there.
You want some advice?
Don't try to find out too much about your wife.
You can live with lies, but the truth will kill you.
- Hi. Am I bothering you? - Silvia! No, not at all.
I'm always glad to talk to you.
Want to see me then?
Of course, whenever you like.
How about Chinese food?
That's fine, although I did hope to see you sooner.
What are you doing right now?
Nothing in particular.
How about coming up here and looking at the top floor?
- Now? Well, I don't know. - The notary moved out.
If you insist, but don't go getting any ideas.
What do you mean by that?
Nothing. Don't misunderstand, I have to talk to you.
Me too, Silvia.
I'll be at your place in an hour.
Fine, in an hour then. Bye.
After your call, I thought about that time in Fregene.
Remember?
Yes, the first time that you spied on me.
At the beginning there, I didn't know you were onto me.
Why did you close the shutter like that?
Just being discreet, I suppose.
Idiot. I did what I was doing for you.
Know something?
After you closed the window, I masturbated.
You never told me that.
The next day, when we met,
I had a strange feeling,
as though you and I had already made love.
What else have you kept from me? You wanted to talk to me.
It's all over.
Since when?
Last night.
Did you make love?
Yes and no.
What this "yes and no"?
We went half-way.
He wanted me to give him a blow-job.
To make him happy, I did it.
Who was it?
Ah, no, Dodo, I warned you.
No strange ideas.
He's gone and that's all there is to it.
Don't do it.
Why with him and not with me?
- It's different with you. - What's different about it?
The cock.
His had no face, no name,
no story, no love.
The cock of a stranger. It wouldn't be like that with you.
- Say that again. - What?
- Cock... - Cock...
Okay?
You can take a picture of me if you like.
Come on, shoot.
You've got a hard-on!
If your father had given us this apartment right away,
lots of things would never have happened.
When did you start up with the other man?
On our wedding day.
How? Where?
At home,
during the wedding reception.
There were a lot of people, remember?
At a certain point...
the porter came up to tell you that the police
were towing away some of the guests' cars.
You went downstairs with him,
and I went into our bedroom.
I looked out the window,
you were arguing with the police.
Suddenly he came into the room.
He came at me...
from behind, he grabbed me by the neck
so I couldn't move or turn around or defend myself.
He did it to me, just like you wanted to do a little while ago.
Coming here was meaningless.
- There's no need to go on. - Why meaningless?
We couldn't live like this
without your dad's help.
So we're back where we started.
Where we started?
We'd be dependent on him again
and I won't go for it.
What are you thinking of doing?
Living together in the two rooms downstairs again.
That's why you left in the first place!
I left because I had another man.
Now I don't anymore.
So we can move happily back in together.
Me, you
and your father.
Let's go tell him we're moving back in with him.
Come on,
let's go.
All right.
Let's go.