Screenplay:  “CUNT FOR HIRE”  starring (& written by) Wren Saxton      
                                                          ------------------------------  
 
EXT. MANHATTAN STREET-EARLY MORNING    
A garbage truck’s loud diesel engine rumbles, and spits its dirty black exhaust into the chilled morning air. Burly men toss black plastic trash bags into its ravenous steel mouth. Steam rises from manhole covers, drifting upwards to greet an impersonal gunmetal gray sky. There’s a layer of grit that hangs over this place-residue from the previous night’s desperate dreams. Camera pans up to the top story of an old gothic building with hideous stone gargoyles perched on its ledge. Behind the grimy window we make out the dark silhouette of a man.      
     
INT. SCIENTIST’S APARTMENT –EARLY MORNING (CONT’D)    
A tall lanky man with glasses works furiously on a strange chair attached to multicolored wires and cathode tubes that emit ghostly blue electrical charges. From his disheveled black curly hair and five o’clock shadow we can ascertain he’s been working through the night. He wears a wrinkled dirty white lab coat that identifies him as a scientist.  Next to him, a cage holds a twitchy white lab rat that runs in nervous circles. The scientist takes the rat out of its cage, and duct tapes it to the seat of the strange chair. When he pulls down an iron lever, smoke and electric sparks fill the room. Once the smoke clears, the rat is still taped to the chair, but on the other side of the room we see an identical rat resting on a silver platform,    
     
                                                                  SCIENTIST    
                                               It works. My electron clone duplicator works.    
     
INT. SCIENTIST’S APARTMENT    
The scientist sits at a rickety wooden desk. Outside, raindrops strike the opaque windowpane like liquid missiles, and lightening illuminates the room in intermittent eerie yellow flashes. A bottle of scotch and an empty glass stand next to an open laptop. Close up of the laptop screen reveals the website of escort Wren Saxton. Scrolling down over her photographs, the corners of his mouth curl into a faint smile. A downward pan of the camera shows his pants wrapped around his ankles. When he reaches the end of her website he types in his contact information with one hand while violently masturbating with the other. .    
     
INT. WREN SAXTON’S NYC APARTMENT-NIGHT    
A twenty something hauntingly beautiful black woman sits at her desk in front of an open laptop. Her dark, long, flowing hair cascades down the silk kimono that wraps around silken skin adorned in tattoos.  Wren’s checking her email, and comes across one with a subject line that reads: “R U AVAILABLE”.  She rolls her eyes, and immediately deletes the email.  The second email’s subject line says: “OUTCALL REQUEST” followed by a date and a specific time. This one she opens and reads. As her eyes move down the text, she smiles.    
     
INT.  SCIENTIST’S APARTMENT –NEXT EVENING    
Wren and the scientist are in his large open laboratory/living room. Wren sits in the chair with attached wires and cathode tubes. She’s wearing a low cut black cocktail dress and high heels. The scientist stands across the room. His trembling hand caresses the metal lever.    
                                                   
                                                                SCIENTIST    
                                                      Do you like the drink?                                    
               
                                                                  WREN    
                                                            Yes, thank you.    
     
Without warning the scientist pulls down hard on the lever. Smoke and electric sparks fill the room. When the smoke clears, Wren is still seated in the chair. She looks completely unfazed by the disturbance. The camera pans over to the large silver platform. It’s empty.      
     
                                                                  SCIENTIST    
                                                          Y-you didn’t duplicate.    
     
                                                                      WREN    
                                                  What the fuck are you talking about?    
     
                                                                   SCIENTIST    
                             My electron clone duplicator. It should have made an identical version of you.    
     
   
Wren takes a sip of her drink and smiles.      
     
                                                                       WREN    
                                               Sorry baby, there’s only one Wren Saxton