MARIE sitting up against the table, the DRUM-MAJOR with his face buried between the folds of her blouse.
MARIE … oh … my … OH …
DRUM-MAJOR … GOD. Come on, Marie.
MARIE stops him and forces him to stand, looking him over as he smiles at her. She brushes at his uniform.
MARIE Show me again, first. How you do it … walk around the room.
The DRUM-MAJOR nods and snaps to attention, strutting by her several times. Turning and doing it again.
MARIE The chest of an ox … the hair of a lion … there’s no one else like you. My God, you make me proud to be a woman!
DRUM-MAJOR Ha! You should see me Sundays with the plume on my helmet and a pair of white gloves … the Prince often remarks, “There goes a real man. Now that’s a soldier for you!”
MARIE Oh, really? (Teasing.) A real man, huh?
DRUM-MAJOR He does indeed! (Goes to her.) And you’re a real woman, Marie. I want to fill you with drum-majors. Set up a whole stable full of them … come on!
He goes to her, grabbing her by the wrist. It’s almost playful, but a bit rough. MARIE begins to struggle.
MARIE No, let me go …
DRUM-MAJOR Come on, you wildcat.
DRUM-MAJOR “No” becomes “Yes” if one waits long enough …
MARIE No!!
DRUM-MAJOR Yes … (Smiles.) I can see it, the devil in your eyes.
MARIE Don’t touch me … no … no … (Beat.) … yes.
MARIE is through fighting—she buries her mouth into his and they begin to kiss. Heavy. Hard.
MARIE Oh, what does it matter? It’s all the same …
Blackout.