Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key Page #3

So I did two jobs in one journey.

- A telegram?

- Yes. I hope it's good news.

ARRIVING MONDAY TRAIN: 15.00

REGARDS, FLORIANA.

That snotty pain in the ass.

She chose the perfect time

to come and get under our feet.

- Wasn't she at our wedding?

- I think so.

My sister brought her

from Paris.

Your niece must be at least 20 now.

Right.

- Hey!

- What did I do?

You touched me here!

Well, it's big, but it doesn't

break any boundaries!

What a cheek!

Giovanna, welcome back!

If you'd touched the old woman's ass,

I'd have cut your hand off!

Soldiers. What do you expect

when there are no brothels anymore?

She wasn't on it.

Let's go.

What an idiot! First she invites herself,

then she makes us

come out here for nothing.

It's just as well.

Hello, Oliviero!

Thanks. Bye.

- Bye.

- Bye.

I hitched.

The lieutenant was very kind.

He had to go to the airport

but he made a detour for me.

- Why the face?

- I'm shocked. Are you...?

Floriana, yes...

be careful with shocks.

At your age you might

have a heart attack!

- How are you, Irene?

- Fine, dear.

No need to ask how you are,

you look wonderful.

Let's go. The sooner we get to the villa,

the sooner we can have a drink.

- Give it to me, I'll carry it.

- Thanks.

- How many rooms are there?

- Too many.

But we've emptied a lot of them.

They were dangerous.

One of these days

the roof will fall in on our heads.

I've never had that feeling.

I've never had a roof of my own.

Being a genius doesn't pay,

does it?

Oliviero's sure the novel's dead.

In truth it's he who's dead.

He hasn't been able

to write a sentence for years.

The only thing he can sell

these days is the furniture.

It's only a cat.

A beautiful one too.

You're scared of it?

It's called Satan.

It was his mother's.

- Aunt Esther's?

- Yes.

Oh...

Well, well,

a black stocking!

What's it for, Irene? A fetish?

Give it to me!

It was left by a girl

we used to have here.

She left, but she wasn't

much of a maid.

Coming, Flo?

So, in Paris you lived

in a commune?

Yes, for six months.

What did you do there?

Just about everything.

Hear that, Irene?

A commune would do you good.

Where the women

are everyones.

Where the men

are everyone's!

He's a bit retarded about sex

and terrified of impotence.

Literary impotence, of course.

Sex is an activity that only interests

those who have imagination

as well as the means.

Irene has neither.

Hasn't the tired illustrious writer

forgotten something?

What?

The means and imagination, yes...

and something else.

Go and see who it is.

Good evening.

The gate was open.

They told me to deliver

this to you.

- Thank you. Goodnight.

- Goodnight.

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