A Dirty Story (1977) - full transcript

A group of friends listen as one man tells them a story about a time when, in a small cafe, he discovered a peephole into the ladies' bathroom and became addicted to looking through it at female genitals. They ask him questions and come to conclusions about sex. This is a filmed, scripted version. Then, the actual person who this happened to relates the same story; this time, however, it is an unscripted documentary, in which the same things occur as in the scripted one.

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Let's see, it was some time ago,
7 years or 8 ago...

I often went to a cafe,
in La Motte-Picquet Grenelle.

I stayed there a lot as I had no phone,
and had many calls to make...

So I often left my table
to go downstairs to the phone...

Where the toilets were.
Men's, women's, the sink, and the phone.

I went downstairs a lot...

And even more so because...

Either because it was occupied,
I went upstairs again...

Or because the dial tone wasn't on,
so I went upstairs again...

So I often went downstairs.

I have to say the cafe was quite...



Quite empty,
not many people came...

Sometimes people suddenly
came in and out...

But I didn't really
pay attention.

And I slowly started to notice
the waiters' ironic look on me.

One time I think I heard...

"But he is young...
Not like the rest of them."

I didn't get it.

Another time I clearly heard...
"All this fuss for a hole!"

I thought "What hole? What is he talking about?"
So I immediately thought "Hole in the women's toilet".

So I went downstairs to the women's...

To see if there's a hole... But nothing.
Usually there's one.

I mean, most of the times.

At the seat's height...

Blocked with a newspaper.



I mean I always thought it's stupid as
I thought that for a woman to...

To let others watch her,
means she really wants it.

Anyhow, there was no hole.

So I talked about it to someone
who lived with me...

A guy who was a...

A professional pervert.

Who explored all of that...

Who knew the parisian cafes' mysteries.

He told me: "Why of course, of course.
There is a hole, but right at the bottom."

"A hole at ground level."

So I asked "How can you do it
if it's ground level? Lie down?"

He said "No, that's not necessary."
And he showed me the position for it.

And on the carpet, he assumed
the position of the muslim prayer...

On his forearms, lifting his ass
looking at ground level.

With his cheek on the ground.

Yes and that's what bothered me,
I hate it, I never take that position...

So I say "You can't do that
in a public place..."

And he says "Why dear friend..."

"There's no pleasure without trouble.
It's up to you."

So I went there.

And when a woman came down,
I assumed this position.

And there really was a hole,
the door was cut down low.

On the angle that opens.

And what struck me was that
the cut was painted.

I mean it wasn't just a guy
with a gimlet...

It felt like it was the...

the architectural concept of the...

Of the cafe. With its toilet door.

So I looked, and the angle
was completely direct.

The first time was out of curiosity.
Then a second time, a third, and...

I began to understand the game.

The cafe was quite empty,
but with sudden surges.

The minute a woman descended
to the toilets.

And suddenly, I saw the men
standing at the bar...

And I understood what he meant
by "But he's young..."

I mean they were men who were...
Who tried to seem normal...

With a tie on and all, but...
Who seem a bit pathetic...

Pathetic, without doubt.

And they had sweaty foreheads,
Shaking their foot on the floor.

There was a sudden surge as soon as
a woman went down, so I stepped in.

There was a code.

They went down by making noise
with their feet, meaning "it's my turn".

I peeped out of curiosity first,
since I...

I wasn't like he said...
I was better than them.

But I started being really into it...

And I did it... Every day.

It wasn't only 2 hours
like I used to, but 5...

And I was taking up too much space,
I felt resentful gazes on me saying...

"Dear friend, you're overdoing it."

So I got used to peeping at women
I didn't know at all.

Often I didn't even see
what they looked like...

Since I was in the men's room,
waiting for the hole...

And I more or less saw
a figure, nothing more.

Sometimes I'd already seen them,
and they went down the stairs.

So I watched them through the hole,
and through their vaginas.

Directly through their vaginas.

Little by little I felt consumed...

And I noticed for the first time
big differences between vaginas.

For example, some vaginas
really turned me on.

So I remembered the shoes,
their shape, their color...

And on her way out, I wanted to see
to whom it belonged. The woman was hideous.

Other times it was the opposite.
I took two extremes cases...

But that's the idea.

Sometimes on the way out...

I saw to whom belonged
the vagina that...

That horrified me,
that made me want to throw up...

And all of this on my knees,
holding my hair, not to touch the...

The piss on the floor.

Waiting for feets' signal...

Of the men coming down,
waiting in turn.

And I saw a beautiful woman.

And I didn't like her vagina,
I instantly felt that...

How wrong I would have been,
if I had tried to meet her.

And then, all the body's hierarchies
turned upside down.

I mean, to use an idiom,
in a different way...

One could argue that...
The soul's mirror is the vagina.

And well, if a woman has a beautiful vagina,
her eyes, well, one can ignore them.

Even her legs. They're more important
than eyes, but it's fine.

Ignoring them isn't a big deal.

And it went on like that,
and I thought only of that.

I was exactly like the other men...

A bit pathetic, who hanged out there...

I took my turn,
and thought only of that.

I thought only of that.

And when I accidentally met
a girl in the neighborhood...

Whom I didn't know...

I took her out for a drink...

And I tried to make her drink
tea or beer...

With my phone chip ready...

In order to see her directly
through her vagina.

And it seemed way more...

Way more exciting than
going through all the steps.

Meanwhile, all this troubled me.

I tried to talk to women about it,
but they didn't like it a bit.

No woman listened to my story,
Except when I told it to a man...

And she took part in his listening.

Otherwise didn't work, she stopped me saying...
"I don't want to hear any more, you annoy me."

She saw me as a frustrated person,
thinking...

"All of this in order to see a vagina!"

"When normally one has opportunities."
But I...

I wasn't interested
in these opportunities anymore.

A girl stayed with me in my place,
as was my pervert flatmate...

Who gave me the tip-off
"There's no pleasure without trouble"...

And I couldn't touch her anymore.
I couldn't care less.

Her vagina had literally become
a domesticated vagina.

I could watch it less...

I mean way more, with a lot less work...

But I didn't care, as I preferred this...

Direct sight on a vagina.

So like I said, all the body's hierarchies
were turned upside down.

I realized it's been...

4000 years, or even more,
of having being fooled all long...

I mean we're convinced that desire,
man's at least...

Depends on the woman's beauty.

And I realized that's
not true at all!

All this fuss about beautiful eyes,
the mouth, the figure...

And it's untrue, completely untrue! The vagina
is all that matters, the rest doesn't.

Once there was a...

A girl in the cafe...
A quite empty cafe like I said.

She sat down, she was a model,
or cover-girl...

A luxury item, a stunner,
and knowing it.

With her big portfolio thing
with her...

She was usually alone,
we sat facing each other...

And I tried to catch her eye
a little bit.

Not flirt with her,
just catch her eye...

And she didn't look at me.

At least not in a real way,
like she did with...

With the guy close by,
I didn't ask much.

She seemed very snob and
I swore to myself...

I would see her.
I mean, check her out.

And I was in luck,
she drank quite a bit of tea.

And if it wasn't tea, it was beer.

One day she went downstairs,
so I went for it.

I made it clear it was my turn,
not the others.

And then, I saw.

And as I was hoping, since
she got on my nerves...

Her vagina was hideous.

A vagina that disgusted me,
really disgusted me.

It disgusted me.

What's more, she stayed inside
long enough, as she was constipated.

I was present the whole time,
it was disgraceful...

Disgraceful for me or for her,
I don't know...

But it really was disgraceful!

By the way...

I noticed that lots of women
were constipated then...

I found out this little
difference between genders...

That women often are constipated.

So I kept on watching.

Again and again,
and I was disgusted.

And I stood up trembling...

As she got up as well.
She got out...

And I wanted to point out something,
so I stayed close to the sink...

And she looked kind of disdainful,
thinking...

"Yes I'm gorgeous, here we go again."

But I looked at her fixedly, so much so
that she seemed a bit uneasy.

So I looked at the bottom
of the door...

She looked up at me...

A little bit panicked,
and looked at the bottom of the door...

And she immediately understood.

Even though it wasn't easy,
since this hole...

Like I said, this little cut...

At the bottom of the door...

Then she ran in a panic,
she'd understood what I've done.

That I had forced her
to be peeped at.

I never saw her again in that cafe.

I mean, anything else,
even a rape attempt...

Wouldn't been way less offensive.

It's one of the mischances
of being a pretty girl...

But this,
she couldn't stand it.

So I went on like that...

For a while, and I felt I was going nuts,
only this was important to me!

And then I...

I stopped, as I felt that...

That everything had to be seen
through the viewpoint of the hole.

This strange hole...

That wasn't opened by a person,
a random pervert.

I felt that the hole came first...

It was build first,
and then the door above...

And then the cafe...

And it had the cashier woman, three
waiters, two pinball machines...

The clients, sauerkraut,
cold dishes...

The usual things...

But it all operated only for the hole!
Only for the hole.

And all the rest was a show-off!

Pretending to work,
to earn a lot of money...

And make others spend it...

And well, achieving that,
thus earning money...

But that all of that,
was for the hole.

Well, this viewpoint felt so...

So disturbing...

That I thought "There's no way out."
I'm becoming like the men with sweaty foreheads...

And the tie, not being able
to hide the fact they're...

That they're tramps, or...

People usually defined as losers...

So I left all this,
and came back to...

To normality.

When you left the cafe,
it didn't take it well and closed...

Yes, I went back a few months later,
and it was surrounded by a fence.

It looked like...

Like the closing of a porn theater,
or something like that...

It felt like, after spending time there,
that they'd closed it down as if...

as if illegal or immoral.

That's beautiful.
I find it beautiful.

Really?

Yes, really.

Really. Yes, I do.

And yet this story, I would've
wanted to tell it to women first.

To women.

For them to change something,
handle it differently...

Become in turn exhibitionists,
as there're only men exhibitionists...

Who show their cock in shady corners.

I've never seen
a woman exhibitionist.

I mean they show everything,
except this.

And men, they've nothing else
to show, since their hairy ankles...

Well, they won't turn on anyone.

But it was no use,
they wouldn't hear this story.

So I told it to men, and they
understood immediately what I meant.

And they didn't treat me like
a frustrated who had to do all this...

In order to see a vagina.

When he said that there're only men
exhibitionists, I felt like standing up...

And take off my pants, but I didn't.

Well, that would be a start!
It takes courage.

But since there's this complicity,
we know where we stand...

You talked about films, other things,
we knew more or less each other...

So it's not the same thing.

Whereas this anonymity of sex...

What's more, then I wasn't thinking
of a beautiful or ugly woman...

An old, or hideous woman...

It didn't matter...
Or even a hunchback.

I mean it was just the crowd of women.
The crowd of women, and try.

See their vagina...
And then, judge it.

And it turned you on?

Yes.

Really?

Yes, it turned me on.

It turned you on?

The other men in the cafe as well?

Well those who did it, of course.
You could tell by their look.

But you had women,
whereas maybe they didn't.

Maybe they did. If they didn't...

It's because they'd rather see than...
Than have.

When you really liked a vagina,
even though the woman disgusted you...

Well, did you try to meet her anyway?

Well no, as it was already
difficult enough anyway.

It was already so much work to peep...

that I wouldn't go on in order
to approach her, risk rejection...

Take her to the movies,
to dinner.

Especially since that's
what I disliked.

That this is what you do
with a woman, always.

Rather than have direct access to her.
I mean, that's what's annoying!

Having to win. To win her.
That's what's annoying!

Once you win her,
she's far less interesting...

Than when she turned you on, walking
in the subway or in the street.

So what have you won now?

What have I won...

How should I ask myself that?

I said it really turned me on...
I don't know what I won.

I felt I was losing something, since I stopped.
I thought "I won't go on..."

"I won't spend my life
peeping vaginas!"

So I stopped because of this...
Even before the cafe closed.

And now what are you doing?

- Now?
- Yes.

I'm not peeping anymore,
I only watch in normal conditions.

Conditions approved by law.

Well, I will start doing it
tomorrow morning.

- To watch what?
- Where is your cafe?

There're very few cafes like this, it's an
exception. It was called "the Pierrot"...

And it existed also
in the men's room?

No, it didn't exist there!
Women don't want to watch that.

You were thinking, while taking
a little a bit of pleasure...

"We'll try the same thing...", but
there's no reciprocity between genders.

It's not about reciprocity! You inspired me
to try it, it's not vengeance.

I really want to try it!

Listen, next time a man shows up
in a shady corner in front of you...

Showing his cock, the least you can do then,
is look at it. No woman does!

But I do, I always do!

No they run,
as if he'd strangle them!

While it's clear that if he shows
his cock, he's incapable of strangling.

A guy who does that,
why he's gentle as a little boy!

You won't even take a look
at what he shows you!

Yes but when you fuck,
what's the deal?

Well, there're vaginas that I like,
others I dislike, but like I said...

Yes but when you fuck a vagina
that you like, what's it like?

It's nice, or do you need
to be in the toilets peeping?

No I don't need that! But like I said,
I've won them through language...

Through a sort of consensus...
A cultural consensus.

- I don't care about that!
- We meet, we like this, and that film...

"Oh that film?
Well, we'll get along."

"You want to come home with me?"
That's something, but...

But it's not direct!

Especially now, in our times...

With young girls you've barely met,
who'll tell you passionately...

All of her perversions,
what really takes her to an orgasm...

You ask yourself
what's left to do...

You have to remind them
it's a sin in order to cum...

Otherwise they do it like hygiene,
and I'm bored of hygiene!

You're very disillusioned!

I'm not disillusioned, our times are!
Times of incredible sexual repression...

I miss the Victorian era!

Did you try to say to a woman going out...
"I'm attracted to your vagina"?

No, no.

But... I'll share a detail.

I think it's general, that's why I share it,
otherwise I don't tell my personal stories...

When I do it's because I know they're not,
therefore everyone would understand.

That's why I wanted to tell it to women,
but it's no use...

- Either way, they refuse it.
- Tonight as well.

Tonight as well, whereas men
get it right away.

Immediately. Almost too quickly,
that's what's annoying!

They become witnesses,
so it's easy.

It's women I want to share it with,
but it's no use, either way, they deny it!

But sex... Is something in the head.

That's it.
You've finally got the idea.

In fact, I'll share a detail.
I was very turned on...

When I did it, but I don't remember...

I'm not sure I was hard.

I should say - like a woman -
that I got wet.

I was wet.
I wasn't hard, I was wet.

And the desire wasn't to fuck her
afterwards, not at all...

It was only the pleasure of watching.
That's all. A sensual pleasure in itself.

Someone has a reputation
on the subject, his name is Sade...

Who says the principle organs
of sensuality...

Are hearing first. Then vision.

And then the rest, the machine
answering to orders, otherwise...

Otherwise we'd fuck during
rutting season like ordinary mammals.

Listen... What else can we women do?
We show you our vagina...

We tell you
"Do what you want with it."

- No, you don't.
- Well, what else?

They didn't know, I had to work hard
to see it, without them knowing.

With lots of humiliation,
and disgrace, as I said.

But also a certain pride, because if
there's no pleasure without trouble...

There's no work without pride.
And I worked enough to think that...

I had my dignity while doing this.

Laurie is with a friend.

If you want to talk,
go to my room.

We'll see, we'll see.

I'll get it.

-Hi, how's it going?
-Fine, thanks.

I didn't get what you were saying
on the phone.

About a film, a script...?

I don't know yet, that's what
I wanted to talk about.

I want you to tell this story...

The one with the toilets?

Yes, I know it. But I asked
a friend to come over.

And what do you want to do
with it? Show a guy...

I don't know yet.

I wanted to reproduce it,
illustrate it...

I even started to write
a script, but it's no good.

I prefer you telling it.

Am I late?

No, no, it's ok.

Hello.

People will say you're telling
dirty stories...

When art should celebrate
greatness and beauty.

I've been told I look for
my inspiration in the toilets.

What is this story?

It's a story
women don't like very much.

Well then,
I bid you to start.

Let's see.
Some time ago...

8 years or 9 ago...

I often went to a cafe,
in La Motte-Picquet Grenelle.

I stayed there a lot because
I didn't have a telephone at home...

And had many calls to make...

So I often left my table
to go downstairs to the phone...

Where the toilets were.

Men's, women's, the sink...

And the telephone.

I had 6 or 7 calls to make
each time...

Which meant I went downstairs
twice as much.

Either because it was occupied,
or because I went upstairs again...

Tell the waitress she'd forgot
to put the dial tone.

So I often went downstairs.

The cafe was quite empty,
not many people came...

Sometimes people came in and out,
but I didn't pay attention.

And little by little...

I started to notice the waiters'
ironic gaze on me.

One time I clearly heard...

"But he is young...
Not like the rest of them."

I didn't get it.

Another time I heard,
even clearer this time...

"All this fuss for a hole."

I thought "What hole?
What is he talking about?"

So I immediately thought
"Hole in the women's toilet".

So I went downstairs to the women's,
see if there's a hole... But nothing.

Usually there's one, always blocked
with paper at the seat's height...

But I always thought
it's stupid because...

For a wowan to let others watch her,
means she really wants it.

Anyhow, there was no hole.

So I talked about it to someone
who lived with me...

A guy who was a professional pervert.

Who explored all of that,
who knew the parisian cafes' mysteries.

He was a masterful pervert.

It was like a real job for him,
like all real perverts.

A schoolteacher's look in his perversion.

He told me: "Why of course,
dear friend. Of course."

"There is a hole."

"It's no mistake, you heard him,
there's a hole alright."

"But it's badly placed."

"As for the position to assume
to see it..."

"It is very well placed for the sight
it offers. A hole at ground level."

So I asked "How can you do it
if it's ground level? Lie down?"

He said "No,
that's not necessary."

And he showed me
the position for it.

So on the carpet,
next to his bed...

He assumed the position of
the muslim prayer...

On his forearms, lifting his ass
looking at ground level.

With his cheek on the ground.

Yes and that's what bothered me,
I hate it, I never take that position...

So I say "You can't have that position
in a public place."

He answers "Why dear friend..."

"There's no pleasure without trouble.
It's up to you."

So I went there.

And when a woman came down,
I assumed this position.

And there really was a hole there.

Actually the door was cut
down low.

On the angle that opens.

And what struck me was that
the cut was painted.

I mean it wasn't just a guy
with a gimlet.

It felt like it was the cafes'
concept, or even its architecture.

So I looked, and the angle
was completely direct.

The first time was
out of curiosity...

Then a second time,
and a third, and...

I began to understand the game.

The cafe was quite empty,
but with sudden surges.

The minute a woman descended
to the toilets.

And suddenly, I saw.

I saw the men standing
at the bar...

And I understood what he meant
by "But he's young..."

They were men who were...
Who seemed a bit...

A bit pathetic, a tie on...
Pathetic, without doubt.

They had sweaty foreheads,
and shook their foot on the floor.

There was a sudden surge,
as soon as a woman went down.

So I stepped into the surge,
but there was a code.

They went down by making noise
with their feet, meaning "it's my turn".

I peeped out of curiosity first,
since I...

I wasn't like he said...
I was better than them.

But I started being really into it.

Pretty soon, that's all
I was doing.

It wasn't only 2 hours
like I was used to...

But 5 hours...

I was taking up
too much space...

The resentful gazes on me suggested
"dear friend, you're overdoing it."

I got used to peeping at women
I didn't know at all.

Often I didn't even see
what they looked like...

Since I was either in the booth,
or in the men's room, waiting.

And I more or less saw
a figure, nothing more.

Sometimes I'd already seen them,
and they went down the stairs.

So I watched them through the hole,
and through their vaginas.

Directly through their vaginas.

Little by little I felt consumed...

And I noticed for the first time
there're big differences between vaginas.

For example, some vaginas
really turned me on.

So I remembered the shoes,
shape, color, and on the way out...

I wanted to see to whom
it belonged.

And the woman was hideous.

Other times it was the opposite...

I took the two extremes,
but that's the idea...

So sometimes on the way out...

I wanted to see to whom
belonged the vagina that horrified me...

That made me want to throw up,
on my knees...

Holding my hair, not to touch
the piss on the floor...

Waiting for feets' signal
coming down, of men waiting in turn.

And I saw a beautiful woman.
And I didn't like her vagina.

I felt how wrong I would have been,
if I had tried to meet her.

The body's hierarchies brutally
turned upside down.

To use a famous idiom...

One could argue that...
The soul's mirror is the vagina.

And well, if a woman has
a beautiful vagina, well, her eyes...

Well, one can ignore them.
Even her legs.

It's more important than eyes.
Ignoring them isn't a big deal.

And it went on like that.

I thought only of that.

I was like the other pathetic men,
who hanged out there...

I took my turn,
and thought only of that.

And when I accidentally met
a girl in the neighborhood...

Whom I didn't know...

I took her out for a drink,
beer or tea...

With my chip ready, in order
to see her directly through her vagina.

And it excited me way more
than going through all the steps.

Meanwhile, all this troubled me.

I tried to talk to women about it,
but they didn't like it a bit.

No woman listened to my story...

Except when I told it to a man,
and she took part in his listening.

Otherwise it didn't work,
she stopped me saying...

"I don't want to hear any more,
you annoy me."

She saw me as a frustrated person,
thinking...

"All of this for a vagina,
when normally one has opportunities."

Well, these opportunities
didn't interest me anymore.

A girl stayed with me in my place,
as was my pervert flatmate...

Who gave me the tip-off
"There's no pleasure without trouble"...

And I didn't touch her anymore.

I couldn't care less.

Her vagina had literally become
a domesticated vagina.

Yet I could watch it. For hours.
Without all this effort...

But I preferred
this direct sight on vaginas.

And so all the body's hierarchies
were turned upside down.

I realized it's been 4000 years...

Of having being fooled all long!

Of convincing us that man's desire
depends on the woman's beauty...

And I realized that's
not true at all!

All this fuss about beautiful eyes,
the mouth, the figure...

But that's untrue,
completely untrue!

That the vagina is all that matters,
the rest doesn't!

Once there was a girl in the cafe.
She sat down...

She was a model, or cover-girl...

A luxury item, a stunner,
and knowing it.

She had her big portfolio
thing with her...

She was usually alone,
and we sat facing each other...

And I tried to catch her eye.

Not flirt with her,
just catch her eye...

And she didn't look at me.

At least not in a real way,
like the guy close by.

I didn't ask much.

She seemed very snob and...

And I swore to myself
I'd see her.

I mean, check her out.

And I was in luck.

She drank beer, and if
it wasn't beer, it was tea.

One day she went downstairs,
so I went for it.

I made it clear it was my turn,
not the others.

And then, I saw.

And as I was hoping, since
she got on my nerves...

Her vagina was hideous.

A vagina that disgusted me,
really disgusted me.

She stayed inside long enough.

She was constipated.

I was present the whole time,
and it was disgraceful...

Disgraceful for me or for her
I don't know, but it really was!

By the way, I noticed that lots
of women were constipated then...

Yes yes, I found out this little
difference between genders...

That women often are constipated.

So I kept on watching.

Again and again,
and I was disgusted.

I stood up trembling,
as she got up as well...

She got out, and I wanted
to point out something...

So I stayed close,
close to the toilets.

She looked disdainful, thinking
"Yes I'm gorgeous, here we go again."

But I looked at her fixedly.
So much so...

That she seemed a bit uneasy.

So I looked at the bottom
of the door...

She looked up at me,
a little bit panicked...

And also looked at the bottom
of the door.

She immediately understood.

Even though it wasn't easy,
since this hole...

I mean this little cut
at the bottom of the door...

Then she left, in a panic,
almost running.

She'd understood what I've done,
forcing her to be peeped at.

I never saw her again in that cafe.

I mean, even a rape attempt
wouldn't been less offensive for her.

It's one of the mischances
of beauty, but this...

She couldn't stand it.

So I went on like that
for a while...

And I felt I was going nuts.

That only this
was important to me.

So I stopped.

I stopped because I felt that...

Everything had to be seen
through this hole.

It's strange that it wasn't
opened by a person...

A random pervert.

I felt that the hole came first...

It was build first...

And then the door above...

And then the cafe.

With the cashier woman, three
waiters, two pinball machines...

The clients, sauerkraut,
cold dishes...

The usual things, but...

That all of that operated
only for the hole.

Only for the hole.

And that all the rest
was a show-off.

A show-off!

Pretending to earn
a lot of money...

Pretending to work...

Pretending to make others spend theirs,
and achieving that, thus earning, but...

But that all of that,
was for the hole.

This viewpoint was so disturbing...

That I thought to myself...
"There's no way out."

I'm going to become like the men
with sweaty foreheads...

That they're tramps, people
usually defined as losers.

So I left all this, and
came back to normality.

I went back after a while...

And it was surrounded
by a fence.

It looked like...
The death of a porn theater.

It gave me the impression...

That after spending time there...

They'd closed it down,
as if it was...

Illegal... Or immoral.

That's beautiful.

I find it beautiful.

Really?

Yes, really.

This story is charming.

Well, charming...

I didn't find it charming.

I have to add that my heart
couldn't always handle it.

And yet this story, I would've
wanted to tell it to women first.

To women.

For them to handle it differently,
change something...

Become in turn exhibitionists.

As there're only men exhibitionists,
showing their cock in shady corners.

I've never seen
a woman exhibitionist.

I mean they show everything,
except this.

And men, they've nothing else
to show, since their hairy ankles...

Well, they won't turn on anyone.

When he said that there're only
men exhibitionists...

I felt like standing up
and taking off my pants.

But I didn't.

That would be a start!

A little start, but I mean...

Since there's a sociable complicity...

You heard us talk,
we know where we are...

So it's not the same thing.

Whereas this anonymity of sex...

On top of that, then I wasn't
even thinking of a beautiful woman...

Or an ugly one, old or hideous,
even a hunchback, it didn't matter...

No, I mean it was
the crowd of women.

That mattered, the crowd of women.
And try...

See their vagina...
And then, judge it.

And it turned you on?

Yes.

Really?

Yes, it turned me on.

The other men in the cafe as well?

Well those who did it, of course.
You could tell by their look.

But you had women,
whereas maybe they didn't.

Maybe they did. If they didn't,
it's because they'd rather see than...

Than have.

But if you had loved a woman...

Who was very good to you...

Maybe you would've find
her vagina very beautiful...

And judge other vaginas
after this one.

It happened to me.

Of course it happened.

But it was already...

Domesticated.

All the steps, the human relation.

The vagina is only shown one time.

When it's understood we like each other
sufficiently to spend at least one night together.

And I liked the vagina of the girl
who stayed with me...

But I didn't at that time,
as it was conjugal, domestic.

It doesn't have anything to do with
a vagina being watched unknowingly.

And when you see only this,
without the rest...

There was absolutely no human relation,
it was direct.

So, I noticed that not only sex
hadn't anything to do with morals...

- that's been a fact for a long time -
But even with aesthetics!

But did you try to say
to a woman who got out...

"I'm attracted to your vagina."

Well no, as it was already
difficult enough anyway.

It was already so much work to peep,
that I wouldn't go on...

In order to approach her,
risking rejection.

Take her to dinner,
or to the movies.

Especially since that's
what I disliked.

That this is what you do with a woman,
rather than have direct access to her.

I mean, that's what's annoying!

Having to win. To win her.

This is what's annoying.

Once you win her,
she's far less interesting...

Than when she turned you on, walking
in the subway or in the street.

So what have you won now?

What have I won...

How should I ask myself that?

Winning this or that...
Or not...

I said it really turned me on...
I don't know what I won.

But I felt I was losing something,
since I stopped.

I thought to myself "I won't go on...
Spend my life peeping vaginas!"

So I stopped.

I stopped because of this and...
Even before the cafe closed.

And now what are you doing?

- Now?
- Yes.

I'm not peeping anymore.

I only watch in normal conditions...

Conditions approved by law.

Well, I will start doing it
tomorrow morning.

And watch what?

Where is your cafe?

Oh, there're very few cafes like this,
it was an exception.

And it existed also
in the men's room?

No, it didn't exist there...!

Very few women want
to watch this.

You were thinking, while taking
a little a bit of pleasure...

"We'll try the same thing...", but
there's no reciprocity between genders.

It's not about reciprocity!

You inspired me to try it! It's not
vengeance, I really want to try it.

Listen, next time a man shows up
in a corner in front of you showing his cock...

Well, the least you can do then,
is look at it. No woman does.

But I do, I always do!

No they run,
as if he'd strangle them!

While it's clear that if he shows
his cock, he's incapable of strangling.

A guy who does that,
why he's gentle as a little boy.

You won't even take a look
at what he shows you.

I always do!

Yes but when you fuck,
what's the deal?

Well, there're vaginas that I like,
others I dislike, but I've earned them!

Yes but when you fuck a vagina
that you like, what's it like?

It's nice, or do you need
to be in the toilets peeping?

No, I don't need to be
in the toilets peeping!

But as I was saying,
I've won them through language.

Through a sort of consensus...
A cultural consensus!

- I don't care about that!
- We meet, we like this, and that film...

Well, we get along.

And the same night,
you want to come home with me...

Well it's nice, it's already something,
but it's not direct!

Especially now, in our times...

With young girls you've barely met,
who'll tell you passionately...

All of her perversions, and
what really takes her to an orgasm.

Well then, what's left to do?

You have to remind them it's a sin
in order to cum, otherwise...

They do it like hygiene,
and hygiene bores me!

You're very disillusioned!

I'm not disillusioned,
our times are!

These are times of incredible sexual
repression... I miss the Victorian era!

For men, sex is different when wanting
to urinate while making love.

Isn't there a difference
for women as well?

I don't know...
I can't answer that.

Well, I think it's a general law,
and that's why I wanted to tell it...

I don't go round
telling my personal stories...

Or when I do, it's because
I'm convinced they're not...

And therefore everyone
would understand.

That's why I wanted
to tell it to women...

But it's no use, either way,
they refuse it.

Whereas men understand right away.

Almost too quickly,
that's what's annoying!

For them it's easy,
they become witnesses.

But it's women
I want to share it with!

It's no use, no use at all.
Either way, they deny it!

Why, no.

But sex...
Happens in our head.

That's it.
You've finally got the idea.

In fact, I'll share a detail.

I was very turned on
when I did it...

But I'm not sure I was hard.

I should say - like a woman -
that I got wet. I was wet.

I wasn't hard, I was wet.

And the desire wasn't to fuck her
afterwards, not at all...

It was only in the pleasure
of seeing.

Just seeing. That's all.

It's a sensual pleasure in itself.

There's someone who has a reputation
on the subject, it's Sade...

Who says the principle organs
of pleasure are hearing...

For him it's hearing first.

Then it's vision.

And then the rest, the machine
answering to orders...

Otherwise we'd fuck during
rutting season like ordinary mammals.

Listen...

What else can we women do?

We show you our vagina...

No, you don't.

We tell you
"Do what you want with it."

Gosh!

They didn't know.

I had to work hard to see it,
without them knowing.

With lots of humiliation,
and disgrace.

But also a certain pride, because if
there's no pleasure without trouble...

There's no work without pride.

And I worked enough to think that...

I had my dignity while doing this.