EXT. BOARDING HOUSE - DAY
Old three story gothic house in ill-repair beyond a peeling
picket fence and a scruffy yard. The sign says -- ROOMS TO
RENT. The Newcomer goes in the gate.
...Oh yeah, one other thing I need --
He squints through the dirty screen door but sees nothing,
then knocks and turns away to survey the neighborhood.
I was thinking -- if it weren't for
bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck
Can I help you?
The Newcomer turns toward the door. Standing there, holding
the screen open, is the LANDLADY. She's a knockout in a cheap,
a cotton dress that buttons down the front
and clings with sweat to her generous curves.
Either my luck had just changed, or
Fate just bought me another round of
INT. BOARDING HOUSE - DAY
The Newcomer's POV of the Landlady as she leads him up the
narrow, gloomy stairs from the second floor to the third
story / attic. She has a Monroe-like sway to her walk. We
can barely HEAR her DISTANT, ECHOEY DIALOGUE:
...not very fancy... house needs
repairs... We haven't had a man around
here for so long...
She kept yammerin' the whole time,
but her hips were doing all the
The Landlady reaches the tiny landing at the top of the stairs
and opens a door to a squalid room with a bed, bureau and
tiny window. The Newcomer has to squeeze by her voluptuous
body to get inside and look around. It doesn't take long.
His gaze returns to the Landlady who is leaning against the
door, chest thrust forward. He focusses on her fingers, toying
with the button at her sweat-shiny cleavage.
It couldn't 'a been any clearer what
the set-up was. The next move was up
The Newcomer takes a step in the Landlady's direction --
Don't tell me!
INT. MUMFORD'S OFFICE - (PRESENT) DAY
CLOSE-UP of MUMFORD wincing.
-- That's all the time we have.
(indicates his watch)
We see Mumford's office: the office of a Psychologist, a
therapist with a doctorate. It's modest, comfortable, neat,
with a calm, relaxed ambience. [The movie is now in COLOR.]
His patient, HENRY FOLLETT, looks nothing like The Newcomer
in the soft-core fantasy he's been narrating. Instead, he's
a mild-looking pharmacist with glasses and a receding
hairline. Only the voice is the same; it's as studly as his
fantasy alter-ego. Follett has been lying on a couch, but
now has twisted with some irritation to look at Mumford.