Hung

HUNG

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A chiseled, good looking man in his early 40s approaches the front door, hands in pockets, nervously looking around him. He rings the doorbell. A woman in her mid-30s, cutting a fine silhouette in a clingy Missoni dress with flowing tresses of red hair opens the door. With a seductive smirk on her face and a dirty look in her eye she leads him into the front room. He stands by the open fire, awkwardly shuffling about in his off- the-rack cheap suit. She takes a seat, looks him up and down in silence, and then sparks up a joint.

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