ANGELINA — ACT II TOUCH ME. DON'T KNOW ME.

[ACT II — TOUCH ME. DON'T KNOW ME.] [Darkness.] [Slow distorted bass.] [WOMAN, close] You want to touch me? Of course you do. Everybody wants to touch what they don't have to understand. [Low guitar riff.] Come closer. No. Not that close. [Small laugh.] See? I can invite you and still tell you where to stop. Complicated? Only if you're stupid. [DRUMS ENTER.] Men think desire is permission. A look. A dress. A hand on a knee. “But you smiled.” Yes, darling. I smile at bartenders too. I don't fuck all of them. [RIFF.] You like my mouth? I know. Mouths are useful things. They kiss. They lie. They scream. And sometimes... they say no. [DEAD STOP.] Funny little word. Everybody respects it... until they want something after it. [Instrumental guitar crawl.] You want to know what I like? Fine. Slow hands. Good whiskey. Clean sheets. Bad decisions made with excellent manners. [Beat.] A door I can lock from the inside. And sometimes... being wanted. [Hammond enters.] Not loved. Wanted. Don't confuse them. Love asks questions. Wanting takes its coat off. [DIRTY RIFF.] I've been loved. I think. Maybe I've just been possessed beautifully. “I worry about you.” Sweet. “Where were you?” Less sweet. “Who was he?” There it is. And then... the sexiest little word in hell: MINE. [GIANT GUITAR HIT.] My girl. My angel. My body. My rules. [Cold laugh.] My ass. [INSTRUMENTAL BREAK — guitars and drums.] You want something sexy? Watch carefully. [Everything drops to bass and breath.] I choose. [Silence.] That's it. That's the whole fucking trick. Not the heels. Not the dress. Not the red light. Choice. Nothing is sexier than a woman who could leave... and doesn't. [RIFF EXPLODES.] And nothing scares you more. [CELLO ANSWERS GUITAR.] I've gone home with men I didn't love. I've loved men I wouldn't go home with. I've kissed for pleasure. I've kissed for money. I've kissed because for five fucking minutes... I didn't want to think. There. Make it evidence. Make me guilty. Just don't make me simple. [DRUMS STOP.] Sometimes I used them. Sometimes they used me. Sometimes we both knew. Sometimes we both lied. [Low piano.] Do I regret it? Which night? Which bed? Which version of me? The girl who wanted money? The woman who wanted power? The idiot who wanted love? Or the cold bitch who wanted to feel nothing? [Long instrumental passage.] Nothing... is underrated. No jealousy. No shame. No waiting for someone who already forgot your perfume. No pain. No fear. No— [She stops.] tenderness. [One cello note.] Fuck. [Silence.] That's the dangerous one. Not sex. Not lust. Tenderness. A hand on your face that doesn't move lower. Someone remembering how you take your coffee. Someone staying after they've already got what they wanted. [Her voice softens.] That's when I start looking for the door. [Long pause.] Pathetic, isn't it? I can take a stranger's hands on my body... but kindness? [Small broken laugh.] That scares the shit out of me. [GIANT RIFF — she immediately hardens.] Anyway. You came for dirty. Let's not disappoint you. [DRUMS SURGE.] I like cigarettes on leather. Bass loud enough to fuck with my heartbeat. Sweat under red light. The second before a kiss. That second is perfect. Nobody owns anybody yet. Nobody has lied yet. Nobody has said... forever. [PIPE ORGAN ENTERS.] Then somebody moves. And possibility becomes history. [EPIC ROCK BUILD.] So touch me... if I ask. Want me... if you want. But don't tell me you know me. You know my skin. Maybe. My taste. Maybe. Maybe even the sounds I make when I forget to perform. [ABSOLUTE CUT.] That's the problem. Sometimes... I forget. [Heartbeat.] For one second the woman underneath comes up for air. And I think— [Long silence.] I think she still wants to be loved. [Silence.] [Instantly cold] Disgusting. [MONSTROUS GUITAR RIFF.] Where were we? [She exhales.] Ah, yes. You wanted to touch me. [Very close whisper.] Ask nicely. [LONG GUITAR SOLO.] [One unresolved harmonic.] [BLACKOUT.]