chilly. Of course, if any of you object,” the director says and pauses — he really has no speech trouble at all now — his voice is distinct, even the drawl has left his rhetoric, now he sounds like Phil (for whom Susan has been looking but does not appear to be present) making a serious point. “I will not have this,” the director says, “I will not have any question about this issue,” and now the actors do begin to undress; by twos and threes they get to their feet and stand uncomfortably, the men already yanking at their belts, the girls fumbling for their brassieres or those without brassieres already pulling off the sleeves of their sweaters. Susan feels her breasts come free, feels the gaze of the actor and director upon her, hopes that she is not, at this particular stage of her life, becoming some kind of a moralist because this is certainly not the time or the circumstances for anything of that sort.
CHAPTER XXIII
She remembers something that Phil had told her in the bed just before they had gotten down to serious business, something that she had possibly put out of her mind before. He had leaned over her, immense, naked, an expression of rage combating shyness in his face, and had said, running his hands over her, “You know what the purpose of these movies is? It’s very simple really and I’m surprised that no one has ever figured it out yet, at least to print. We got to give the guys and girls who watch this the idea that the whole world is a dirty movie because this gives them hope, you understand; they don’t feel so alone and helpless if we can make them believe that this is exactly the way it happens. You see, you’re dealing with a kind of person, maybe, who has had such troubles with sex that he can hardly believe it exists; oh he knows that something’s going on between people but so little is happening for him that he begins to worry if the whole thing is a myth, something invented by the world to keep him frustrated and angry. They can get very dangerous to themselves and others if they stop believing in sex; so what we got to do is to restore it to them in some way that they think it is believable. That’s why we look for a kind of actress who isn’t so experienced, who doesn’t look like she’s been around over the lot; that way the whole thing is more credible and the audience can picture themselves more easily. In the forties they had whores doing this stuff but that hasn’t worked for a long time. You’re really built, you know that? Even more than I thought from a distance; I could hardly believe that you were so built,” and he began to make noises which she or at least he took for passion; bent over her, began to nuzzle and fondle. As he went over the top, a glazed, frantic expression appeared in his shielded face and Susan saw his vulnerability so clearly that just for an instant she thought there was connection but then, as almost always with men the sensitivity went away and there was only greed, insistence, and the juncture of his loins throwing into her a knowledge so hot that all she could do was absorb it.
CHAPTER XXIV
As they stand naked, in embarrassed, uncomfortable positions, a technician passes among them with a stack of scripts. He hands her one with the name SUSAN crayoned on a piece of paper clipped to it and she takes it, feeling the weight of the pages, looking at the title page. She finds that many of the pages are blank; presumably those in which there are scenes in which she is not participating. Turning at random she finds on page 80 a long scene between a character called Madame Curie and her husband Pierre. Foul words leap out from the page at her and she begins to read avidly but before she can even see what kind of role has been given her, the director claps his hands and climbs a parapet from which he addresses them with his hands held as a megaphone.
“These are your scripts,” he says. “You will study them. You will note that they are
CHAPTER XXIII
She remembers something that Phil had told her in the bed just before they had gotten down to serious business, something that she had possibly put out of her mind before. He had leaned over her, immense, naked, an expression of rage combating shyness in his face, and had said, running his hands over her, “You know what the purpose of these movies is? It’s very simple really and I’m surprised that no one has ever figured it out yet, at least to print. We got to give the guys and girls who watch this the idea that the whole world is a dirty movie because this gives them hope, you understand; they don’t feel so alone and helpless if we can make them believe that this is exactly the way it happens. You see, you’re dealing with a kind of person, maybe, who has had such troubles with sex that he can hardly believe it exists; oh he knows that something’s going on between people but so little is happening for him that he begins to worry if the whole thing is a myth, something invented by the world to keep him frustrated and angry. They can get very dangerous to themselves and others if they stop believing in sex; so what we got to do is to restore it to them in some way that they think it is believable. That’s why we look for a kind of actress who isn’t so experienced, who doesn’t look like she’s been around over the lot; that way the whole thing is more credible and the audience can picture themselves more easily. In the forties they had whores doing this stuff but that hasn’t worked for a long time. You’re really built, you know that? Even more than I thought from a distance; I could hardly believe that you were so built,” and he began to make noises which she or at least he took for passion; bent over her, began to nuzzle and fondle. As he went over the top, a glazed, frantic expression appeared in his shielded face and Susan saw his vulnerability so clearly that just for an instant she thought there was connection but then, as almost always with men the sensitivity went away and there was only greed, insistence, and the juncture of his loins throwing into her a knowledge so hot that all she could do was absorb it.
CHAPTER XXIV
As they stand naked, in embarrassed, uncomfortable positions, a technician passes among them with a stack of scripts. He hands her one with the name SUSAN crayoned on a piece of paper clipped to it and she takes it, feeling the weight of the pages, looking at the title page. She finds that many of the pages are blank; presumably those in which there are scenes in which she is not participating. Turning at random she finds on page 80 a long scene between a character called Madame Curie and her husband Pierre. Foul words leap out from the page at her and she begins to read avidly but before she can even see what kind of role has been given her, the director claps his hands and climbs a parapet from which he addresses them with his hands held as a megaphone.
“These are your scripts,” he says. “You will study them. You will note that they are
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