Spellbound and Swallowed

MONMARTRE RESTAURANT WHITE SCRIPT

INT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT

A dense, suffocating haze of cigarette and cigar smoke hangs over a crowded, dimly lit dining room. Candles on table. Loud laughter and overlapping, boozy chatter fill the air. Multiple languages being spoken.

CLOSE UP

LIZZIE staring blankly into space, smoking. Across the table, Ollie is sat between the girls. They are leaning in to him laughing. He is smoking.

TIGHT CLOSE-UP – LIZZIE

Her eyes are unfocused she is moderately drunk. Suddenly, a pair of hands drops heavily onto her shoulders. She flinches as the camera TILTS UP to catch OLLIE leaning over her shoulder.

OLLIE

Lizzie, you’ve been avoiding me. Come and have a fag and a chat.

LOW ANGLE – OLLIE

He casually turns and strolls off toward the back of the restaurant, disappearing into the crowd.

BACK TO CLOSE-UP – LIZZIE

She waits. One minute. Two minutes. She pushes herself up out of frame.

INT. STAIRCASE – CONTINUOUS

TRACKING SHOT – FOLLOWING LIZZIE

Lizzie steps onto a narrow, claustrophobic staircase. The steps twist sharply upward. The camera stays tight on her unsteady feet as her boots slip slightly on the wood, then PAN-UP to her hands hauling her up by the handrail.

INT. UPPER CORRIDOR – CONTINUOUS

POINT OF VIEW SHOT (LIZZIE)

The corridor is barely wide enough for one person. Ollie stands leaning against the cracked wall, cigarette held loosely between his fingers, watching her approach.

TWO-SHOT – NARROW CORRIDOR

Lizzie squeezes into the tight frame, reaching out to touch him trying to undo the zip on his jeans. Ollie catches her wrist, blocking her.

OLLIE

Not yet, Lizzie, not yet.

Ollie reaches behind him, twists a brass doorknob, and shoves her through into the cubicle, pushing himself in right behind her.

INT. TOILET CUBICLE – CONTINUOUS

HIGH ANGLE – LOOKING DOWN INTO THE CUBICLE

The door SLAMS shut.

The space is tiny and filthy. A single naked bulb hangs from the ceiling, casting a sickly yellow glow over grubby, graffitied tiles and a damp, sticky floor. A low porcelain toilet with no seat sits below an ancient high-level cistern. A rusted sink is pulling away from the wall.

CLOSE-UP – LIZZIE

She visibly gags as the stench hits her—stale urine, tobacco, and shit.

MEDIUM SHOT

Ollie manipulates her against the wall. A flicker of something—guilt, hesitation—flashes across his face, captured in a FLEETING CLOSE-UP, but it passes instantly.

OLLIE

Up here, Lizzie.

LOW ANGLE – LOOKING UP AT LIZZIE

He grabs her, hoisting her up so her boots balance precariously on the bare porcelain rim of the bowl.

Lizzie wobbles frantically, her boots slipping on the slick porcelain. Terrified of falling in, she thrusts her arms out, pressing her palms against the grimy side walls to anchor herself like a crucifix.

INSERT SHOT – LIZZIE’S HAND

She slips forward, grabs at the sink. Her fingers slide across a crusty, soapy residue on the sink. She pulls her hand back in revulsion.

MEDIUM CLOSE-UP

Ollie yanks her dress up and tugs aggressively at the side ties of her knickers. Frustrated, he rips at them. One tie snaps; the fabric slides down her legs, tangling around one of her ankles.

Lizzie loses her footing, slipping forward into him. Ollie catches her hard, shoving her back. A cold pipe digs painfully into her spine.

LOW ANGLE – OVER OLLIE’S SHOULDER

Ollie drops his head, moving out of frame.

OVERHEAD EXTREME CLOSE-UP – LIZZIE

Lizzie leans her head back against the tiles, staring directly into the camera at the top of his head—his thick, dark hair. Her face turns momentarily cold, dark, and distant.

Then her eyes flutter shut. Her breathing turns ragged, thoughts dissolving as her body responds to orgasm.

MEDIUM SHOT

Ollie stands back up, pulling her down off the rim. He presses his mouth to her ear

OLLIE

You taste so fucking lovely when you come, Lizzie.

He spins her around, the camera SWISH-PANNING as he slams her back against the wooden stall door.

CLOSE-UP – LIZZIE’S EAR

OLLIE (O.S.)

(whispering)

Come on, Lizzie. Come with me.

Lizzie closes her eyes, gripping his shoulders as the intensity sweeps over her.

Then, abruptly, Ollie steps back out of the frame.

EXTREME CLOSE-UP – LIZZIE

The heat vanishes. Lizzie presses her back against the door, trembling. Her expression collapses into a quiet wave of hurt.

WIDE ANGLE – CUBICLE

Ollie pulls out a pack of cigarettes, completely unbothered, his fingers stained yellow with nicotine. He flicks a lighter. The flame illuminates his indifferent expression.

He pushes the cubicle door open an inch, peering out.

OLLIE

Come on, sort yourself out. I don’t want Jamie coming up here and punching me.

TIGHT DETAIL SHOT – THE FLOOR

Lizzie’s dress is crumpled, and her knickers are twisted around her ankle, the torn tie caught in the zipper of her boot.

She bends down to pull them free. As she does, Ollie grabs them and shoves them in the back pocket of his jeans.

CLOSE-UP – OLLIE

His expression is hard to read, something between the beginnings of a self-satisfied smirk and something softer and more uncertain..

He turns and exits. The camera remains stationary on Lizzie as she smooths her dress down in absolute silence.