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About Nice

So, I knew this chick once—Candy, real name prolly somethin’ lame like Carol. She worked downtown, fishnets ripped, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Greed is good, man—she’d hustle harder than me on Wall Street, swear to God. Pulled in $500 a night, cash, no taxes, Uncle Sam can suck it. Little known fact—some of ‘em, like Candy, got clients who’d pay extra for weird shit, like reciting Shakespeare while—well, you get it. Made me laugh my ass off when she told me, “To be or not to be,” mid-grind. Hilarious, right?

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Suddenly, I hear a loud honk. I look up, and it’s a car zooming by. Like, dude, slow down! This isn’t a racetrack! I’m about to lose it. But then, I see an old lady feeding pigeons. She’s so calm, and it makes me smile.

'Lady Chatterley's Lover' Director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre on Exploring a Woman's Sexuality, Pleasure and Freedom (Exclusive)