Basic Instinct script by Joe Eszterhas
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INT. A BEDROOM - NIGHT
It is dark; we don't see clearly. a man and woman make love
on a brass bed. There are mirrors on the walls and ceiling.
On a side table, atop a small mirror, lines of cocaine. A
tape deck PLAYS the Stones "Sympathy for the Devil."
Atop him... she straddles his chest... her breasts in his face.
He cups her breasts. She leans down, kisses him...
JOHNNY BOZ is in his late 40's, slim, good-looking. We don't
see the woman's face. She has long blonde hair. The CAMERA
STAYS BEHIND and to the side of them.
She leans close over his face, her tongue in his mouth... she
kisses him... she moves her hands up, holds both of his arms
above his head.
She moves higher atop him... she reaches to the side of the
bed... a white silk scarf is in her hand... her hips above his
face now, moving... slightly, oh-so slightly... his face strains
The scarf in her hand... she ties his hands with it...
gently... to the brass bed... his eyes are closed... tighter...
lowering hips into his face... lower... over his chest... his
navel. The SONG plays.
He is inside her... his head arches back... his throat white.
She arches her back... her hips grind... her breasts are high...
Her back arches back... back... her head tilts back... she
extends her arms... the right arm comes down suddenly... the
steel flashes... his throat is white...
He bucks, writhes, bucks, convulses...
It flashes up... it flashes down... and up... and down... and
EXT. A BROWNSTONE IN PACIFIC HEIGHTS - MORNING
Winter in San Francisco cold, foggy. Cop cars everywhere.
The lights play through the thick fog. Two Homicide detectives
get out of the car, walk into the house.
NICK CURRAN is 42. Trim, good-looking, a nice suit; a face
urban, edged, shadowed. GUS MORAN is 64. Crew-cut, silver
beard, a suit rumpled and shiny, a hat out of the 50'sa face
worn and ruined the face of a backwoods philosopher.
INT. THE BROWNSTONE
There's money here -- deco, clean, hip -- That looks like a
Picasso on the wall. They check it out.
Who was this fuckin' guy?
Rock and roll, Gus. Johnny Boz.
I never heard of him.
Before your time, pop.
Mid-sixties. Five or six hits.
He's got a club down in the Fillmore
Not now he don't.
Past the uniformed guys... nods... waves... past the forensic
men... past the coroner's investigators... they get to the
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