INT. LINDA’S BEDROOM
She sits watching a different program, bathed in the blue light of the screen. Alone. Magazines, phone, books, everything laid out around her, as we
DISSOLVE TO BLACK AND WHITE:
(A moment of silence, and then . . . jumpy white letters. We hear the melancholy MUSIC of Edith Piaf’s “Telegramme” . . . the following SEQUENCE will be in STARK BLACK-AND-WHITE.
TITLE: DAVID BAILEY, OBSEDE SEXUEL (DAVID BAILEY, SEX ADDICT)
INT. STREET – DAY
Bailey walks University Ave. Hands in pockets. We COVER him with a HANDHELD CAMERA, just a man and his edgy solitude . . .
INT. CLINIC – AFTERNOON
David Bailey sits with his hands in his lap. He looks very nervous, pumps his foot. Just to his right is a public service safe-sex poster.
MALE NURSE (V.O.)
David Bailey – –
Bailey rises.
INT. EXAMINATION ROOM – AFTERNOON (LATER)
Bailey sits on the edge of a metal table. The DOCTOR enters with clipboard. She looks like an irritable June Allyson.
DOCTOR
Good afternoon.
BAILEY
‘Afternoon Doctor.
DOCTOR
(looks at file)
You’re worried about a spot on your penis.
BAILEY
Yes . . . I am. Well, It’s not actually on it, but close. Close enough.
DOCTOR
Have you had unprotected sex?
BAILEY
Yes. Three times.
DOCTOR
Okay, you can drop your pants.
ANGLE ON
his shoes as his pants lower onto them. Two garage-door openers fall out of his pockets.
ON BAILEY
as the Doctor examines him BELOW FRAME.
DOCTOR
Hmmmmm.
BAILEY
What is it?
DOCTOR
Nurse, can I have a swab?
BAILEY
It’s nothing, right?
DOCTOR
Well, it’s not ‘nothing.’
Bailey is very nervous now.
DOCTOR
Do you know your recent contacts?
BAILEY
Well . . . yes. It’s . . . she has a
place on Third . . . she’s at UW . . .
and I went to her house and she
got a little drunk, and she wanted
to watch this movie, Beaches,
which I had. So, I put it on, and
she realizes it’s about a girl
with a heart problem. Now this
kills the entire mood because
she has a heart problem too. Now
she’s convinced she’s going to
die too, and I spent all night
talking with her, dialoguing, and
then, at eight A.M., when I’m
passing out . . . now she wants to
have sex, she’s cheered up, but
I’m falling asleep . . . anyway,
this condom I had in my wallet
turns out to be a Handi-wipe
and – –
DOCTOR
Do you put your hands in your
pockets a lot, Mr. Bailey?
BAILEY
Yes. I’m a maitre d’.
DOCTOR
You seem to have irritated yourself with the pocket lining . . . you’re probably allergic to Orlon.
BAILEY
Really?
DOCTOR
Really.
BAILEY
Really?
DOCTOR
Really.
BAILEY
Thank you.
DOCTOR
I give this speech twenty times a
day. There is no such thing as
good, clean sex. Protect yourself.
Don’t be naive.
BAILEY
Thank you, Doctor . . .
(slips pants back on)
Thank you.
DOCTOR
You’re welcome.
Bailey shakes hands with the Doctor. The Doctor looks at what’s in her hand. Five dollars.
DOCTOR
You don’t tip your doctors, Mr. Bailey.
She gives it back, as we: