December 3.
Monica's hot lips met his. She was the true beauty how could a woman so stunning roam the faces of the earth while remaining so serene? She embodied everything perfect, every part of her making her entire being truly magnificent.
--I missed you as much as I possibly could, the girl replied, her eyes filled with sorrow and discretion. It was clear she craved their closeness. To love, she had understood for some time, the affection earned from afar only created irreparable gaps that never healed. When personalities shift, when opportunities fall victim to life's traditions. They stood completely exposed, two lovers yearning for a life that would grant them the chances they desired.
--We'll have plenty of time. I hoped we'd start sooner, but it turns out the supporting characters take less time, and that's enough for us to shoot a movie between January and February, -- Billy whispered, kissing her lips intensely. Something slipped away between them. Her black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall; exercise had completely transformed her body. Now she was a beauty in all her splendor—the slim waist he longed to embrace, her wide hips, thick thighs he caressed with such delicacy that he wanted to bite them for the rest of his life, her voluptuous breasts that embodied pure lust, round and perfect. Her sighs filled his ears with sweetness like honey.
His admiration for her satisfaction and pleasure evoked a different way of making love. Everything about her seemed like a venomous trap for the unwary who gazed too closely at this deadly beauty. She pressed against his back while her hand performed a delicate masturbation. Billy kissed her neck and kneaded her hard breasts; he felt every jolt her caresses provoked, and she surrendered as expected.
Guided by pleasure, it was a creed she followed. His fingers sought her depths, and she let them enter as she pushed her pelvis toward them, savoring the taste of love. She drew closer while both tangled themselves with their respective hands, hesitating to plunge into the depths of ecstasy.
On the bed, the two savored each other, still side by side and pressed tightly together. Clinging close, Monica's sweaty hair completely entangled between Billy's chest and her own back, while he thrust firmly, trying to hold out as long as possible. She simply gave thanks that he was so skilled. Billy didn't hesitate to kiss her lips; their tongues entwined, and his release came deep—too much pent-up time, too much stress for the thick concentration of semen not to flood her insides, a hot stream that Monica received with a touch of sorrow for how bold it all was. A minute to recover, both breathing heavily, Monica's flat abdomen rising and falling while the white liquid flowed out strongly. She tried to assess if it was enough, but she craved more pleasure, a kind found in another position.
--What do you say we invite that blonde who's always after you?-- Monica whispered vehemently in Italian. --She follows you like a puppy. --
She saw the desire in Billy's eyes; the controlled, measured man had fallen again. She mounted him and rode hard, while he sometimes gripped her body tightly against his.
Then from behind, as her hips pressed with force, she let herself hang while he hit the spot the precise point that made her bite her lips, a small spot that brought such pleasure only she knew how to reach it. The guidance gave her the ecstasy she desired, and in it, she climaxed; the first release left her utterly sensitive, so she reached the second just a minute later. Her legs were tired and happy. But satisfaction was incomplete; she needed more.
She wanted to test Billy's limits. The lovers played almost until dawn, finally gathering their bodies to enjoy the chill that seemed long forgotten.
***
--I'm going to sleep.- Mónica whispered, clearly unwell.
Billy put on his suit that day; he would take part in the scenes that would mark the end of his role in the film, and that would be all for him. How fitting it was to finish his scenes while trying to make cinema come alive.
-Scene 39. Take 2.-
EXTERIOR. OPEN SEA. DAY.
The Bay of San Remo. DICKIE and RIPLEY have rented a motorboat.
DICKIE
This is how I found my place in Mongi.
I went out in a boat to circle the bay. The first place I liked, I claimed as my own. The motorboat cuts through the waves. Dickie is exhilarated by the speed.
RIPLEY
Dickie, slow down, come on!
Ripley grips the oar tightly, his knuckles turning white. Dickie cuts the engine, and the boat slows until it nearly stops, miles from shore.
DICKIE
(euphoric)
I love this place! I'm going to live here!
Dickie takes off his jacket and drums against the edge of the boat, creating a rhythm with his lighter and fingers, already halfway to becoming Buddy Rich.
RIPLEY
I wanted to tell you my plan.
DICKIE
Then tell me.
RIPLEY
I thought I might come back. Around New Year. On my own.
DICKIE
(suddenly tense)
Really? To Italy?
RIPLEY
Of course. Say, for example, you were still here; maybe we could share the rent on a house. I'd find a job. Or better yet, I could get a flat in Rome, and when we're there, we stay there, and when we're here, we stay here.
DICKIE
Oh, God. I don't think so.
RIPLEY
You see, especially with the Marge situation, you could blame it on me.
DICKIE
Marge and I are getting married.
RIPLEY
(horrified)
What?
DICKIE
What?
RIPLEY
Yesterday you were checking out girls on the terrace, today you're getting married. It's absurd.
DICKIE
I love Marge.
RIPLEY
You love me and you're not marrying me.
DICKIE
(cold)
Tom, I don't love you.
RIPLEY
No, no, it's not a threat, I already explained that. All of it.
DICKIE
The truth is, I'm a little relieved you're leaving. I think we've seen enough of each other for a while.
Ripley stares at him, his eyes suddenly reptilian.
RIPLEY
What?
DICKIE
You can be a leech, you know that, and it's boring. You can be incredibly boring.
RIPLEY
(volcanic)
The funny thing is I'm not pretending to be someone else—and you are. I've been completely honest with you. I've told you how I feel. But you—right from the start, I knew there was something… that night when we played chess, for example, it was obvious.
DICKIE
(incredulous)
What night?
RIPLEY
Of course, I know, that's too dangerous for you, alright, hey! We're brothers, fine, and then you go and do that sordid thing with Marge, fucking her on the boat while we all had to listen, which was unbearable, frankly, and then you go chasing your own cock like a— and now you're getting married! I'm baffled, forgive me… you lie to Marge and then marry her, you get Silvana pregnant, you have to play the sax, you have to play the drums—what is that, Dickie? What do you actually play?
Dickie, furious, stands and staggers toward Ripley.
DICKIE
(attacking him, slapping him lightly in rhythm with his tirade)
Who are you? A fraud, a third-rate parasite? Who are you to tell me anything? Honestly, truly, truly, truly, truly, I don't want to be on this boat with you. I can't move without you moving, and that's exactly how it feels—and it gives me chills.
(he moves to start the engine)
I can't move without—"Dickie, Dickie, Dickie"—like a little girl. You give me—
Ripley strikes him in the head with the oar. Dickie slips from the wooden seat, his eyes rolling in stunned shock.
RIPLEY
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
The boat slows as Dickie releases the helm. Dickie looks at Ripley, exhausted, and collapses onto his back.
DICKIE
For God's sake!
Ripley, shocked at himself, moves toward Dickie, rocking the boat. He reaches him—and then recoils in horror as he sees Dickie's face, seemingly intact, SUDDENLY SPLIT, a line of blood appearing as the skin gives way like bursting fruit. Ripley is horrified. A terrible roar erupts from Dickie as he lunges at him.
DICKIE (continuation)
I'll kill you!
Ripley shoves him away, grabs the oar, and kicks Dickie's hand off his ankle. The boat lurches violently as Dickie crashes into the tiller. Ripley nearly loses his balance. His glasses fall. They both lose their footing. They struggle—locked in a fight for their lives—for control of the oar. Dickie, blinded by his own blood, loses his grip.
Ripley, terrified, strikes Dickie again and again, the oar coming down like a carpet beater—blood on the blade, blood on Ripley—until he collapses to his knees, gasping, letting his arm fall. Only then does he realize, with disgust, that he has let Dickie rest in a pool of blood. He begins to sob, collapsing there beside him, horrified by what he has done. No one is in sight. The boat rocks gently. The sun shines indifferently over the waves. Ripley lies beside Dickie at the bottom of the boat, in the embrace he had always longed for. The small blue-and-white boat drifts peacefully. The sea grows still.
-cut.-
...