Previously on Masters of Sex...
I think you've released this material to piggyback
on the so-called Sexual Revolution...
Mr. Buckland. We are the Sexual Revolution.
I've thought a lot about my marriage,
I don't need Bill to be all things.
As long as my home and my family stays intact.
Your home is safe.
We do understand each other, Gin.
Hugh Hefner sent us champagne?
I still don't understand why he wants to invest in our research.
It's not just Hef.
I've got this big shot perfume guy from New York who wants in.
When we began discussing a potential investor,
Mrs. Johnson and I immediately agreed you were the right man
for the job.
And you're here for the surrogacy program?
I'm not squeamish about sex if that's what you think.
Is there any particular reason you're insisting he stay here?
I've found something in his work that adds value to our work.
I want this. It was a mistake. I made a mistake.
But surely you want to make things right with me.
Thank you.
I won't forget this.
The charges are pandering and promoting prostitution.
One of your surrogates came forward to cooperate.
All of our surrogates are unpaid volunteers.
How could that possibly be considered prostitution?
Unfortunately, that's now up to a court to decide.
I've been having an affair.
With Virginia.
I have known this for years.
Libby, we can't do this anymore. This has to be over.
I will not bail you out.
You cannot come home.
Honey, is this what you want?
I do.
Virginia, I love you.
I always have.
I also believe that you love me, too.
I'm leaving.
Are you afraid he's coming?
Or are you afraid he's not?
Let's go.
I know, I hear your concern.
I hear your concern because you're yelling it to me.
Okay.
I... I will tell him you called...
I will also tell her you called... Hold on, one moment.
I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we made this appointment three months ago.
Four months ago.
I don't understand. Parents get sick,
and Dr. Masters' father is ill with, uh,
you know, gout.
As a board member of this clinic,
and not to mention, a close, personal friend of Libby Masters...
If you could just...
Because they are both in a board meeting...
I told you, I don't know when they'll be back from vacation.
But it's important court business, Ma'am.
Then write it down, "You've been served."
I'm sorry, not at the moment, they are in an emergency session...
A leave of absence, that's right...
Uh-huh. In with a patient now...
So busy with that book signing...
Stuck in traffic... We'll call you back.
Away at a medical conference.
A guest lecture at Dalhousie University.
It's in Nova Scotia.
I'm going to all the owners in the building,
which ones would they like best?
Chocolate mint or shortbread?
The owners of this place?
I gotta be honest with you, kid.
I have no idea where they are.
No more bras! No more bras!
This beauty pageant is a symbol
of what this society does to enslave women.
We reject these instruments of female torture.
These accoutrements of enforced femininity.
These instruments of male oppression.
There can be no liberation for women
no matter how highly educated
as long as we are required to cram our breasts into bras.
This hideous symbol of patriarchal oppression.
We won't go back!
Enough is enough, we won't go back!
Bunch of lesbians.
Am I right?
They're lesbians. Hmm?
Oh, you don't care the world's going to hell in a hand basket?
Hmm...
I'm more concerned for the bras.
Being a bra salesman.
Well, hell. Tough time for that gig.
Guess I'm buying the next round.
Two more.
You wear out that new hubby of yours?
'Cause the last few days...
I know. He'll be back, he just had a work situation.
I will admit, though, that heart-shaped bathtub,
it's been a bit less fun.
What kind of work could possibly drag a guy
from such a pretty new wife?
He runs the Miss America Pageant.
No, really? Mmm-hmm.
The big shots in Vegas have been trying
to steal that pageant from Atlantic City for years.
Oh, I know.
Because I was Miss Missouri,
back in the day, of course.
Atlantic City, that's where Dan and I first met.
He's just now popping the question?
No, no, he tried back then.
But things got complicated, as they do. Mmm.
He married Miss Utah.
And I went on to medical school.
Brains and beauty? I'll be damned.
When I get off here tonight,
drinks for the good doctor are on me.
But why not stay a pilot?
Because I almost died.
I was flying over Lake Placid one day,
and my co-pilot dared me to walk out on the wing and jump.
So I did.
Oh, come on, man, now you're bull-shitting me here.
No, this is true.
I jumped, pulled the cord,
and the parachute got all tangled,
and there I was in free-fall.
You ever been in free-fall, Donald?
No.
Well, at first, it's pure panic.
Your breath stops.
Your heart is pounding, like it might explode.
You fight it,
but that only makes it worse,
until you realize, you cannot fix this.
So,
you just give up.
And that means death.
But with death, there comes a certain...
Peace.
♪ Stand by your man
♪ And show the world you love him
♪ Keep giving all the love you can
♪ Stand by your man ♪
Damn, it's late.
I need to go. Go where?
We're in Las Vegas, baby.
No, Mr. America is coming back tonight,
I shouldn't be slurring when he arrives.
But what if I get sick, Doc, and need special, you know...
What kind of doctor did you say you were?
Sex expert.
No, I'm serious.
I'm a sex researcher.
Sex what?
There's no such thing as that.
Oh, yes, there is.
In fact, sex therapy is the way of the future.
We explored it all. Experimented.
Made significant breakthroughs.
Learned every inch of each other's bodies...
Okay, buddy, I am now cutting you off...
But being sex experts is not enough.
Because when you've tried,
and tried, and tried,
and she still leaves you anyway,
then you must look at yourself in the mirror
and say the words that you've been too afraid to say.
"She does not
"love me."
So, I guess, you and your husband are one of those swinger couples.
Is that a question?
I'm just wondering. Look.
I had too much to drink last night, Ron.
Rick.
And I drank too much because I miss my husband.
So...
Okay. Well.
I have a year to send a gift, right?
You know what my husband really is, Rick?
He's protection.
From? You, for starters.
So, why don't you grab your things and get out of here?
Now.
You've become quite the regular here at City Hall, Dr. Masters.
Let's see, we have a recent investigation
into a relationship with a minor.
An investigation that was immediately dropped
when the charges proved groundless.
We have charges of pandering and promoting prostitution,
those charges have not been dropped.
They will be shortly.
I am currently interviewing attorneys.
Now, you've destroyed private property
as a result of driving with a blood alcohol level
of twice the legal limit.
I will pay the damages.
Despite the fact the other driver hit me.
But you were drunk.
So, I'm taking your license for three months.
You will also complete a mandatory AA program.
AA? Look, I can assure you, I am not...
Ninety meetings in 90 days
at the Alcoholics Anonymous chapter of your choosing.
You will also perform some form of community service.
Come on... Not of your choosing.
My daughter attends St Vibiana's Elementary.
You will go and tell those students the story of St Joseph.
Now that, thanks to you and your car,
his likeness is a pile of rubble
and no longer there to greet and guide them each day.
You're a good man.
You're becoming our favorite customer.
Are we saving that seat?
Eventually.
But for now, I think I'll wander off,
find a way to distract myself.
You can start with Liberace, in the Augustus Room.
Siegfried and Roy in the Colosseum.
Then you can duck in on that doctor teaching people to have sex,
he's just down the hall in the Acropolis.
Teaching people to what?
I guess, he breaks sex down into phases?
I haven't caught the show. Some scientist/sex guru.
Women fake orgasms.
This is true.
And so a man then wonders.
How can I be sure that my old lady isn't faking?
Well, again, we turn to science.
Now, we know that a consistent physical response
in women who have orgasmed is erect nipples.
So, for you men in the audience, the answer is simple.
If your girl's nipples are hard, she came.
If they're not, she's faking.
I'll take questions at the end, miss.
"Mrs." And I'd like to clarify this point now, Dr. Fahy, if I may.
You said "physical response,"
but the correct term is "physiological response," is it not?
Sure. If you want to be technical.
I do, I am also curious where you conducted this "nipple" study.
Everything I'm discussing either comes from my column or my book.
Yes. The Method.
But the data in The Method comes from...
My studies at the University of Michigan.
And my time spent at the Masters and Johnson Clinic.
And yet your face draws a complete blank.
Which is funny, because I'm usually so good with faces.
Technically. I knew it.
You're Virginia Johnson.
Your book was right there in the gift store.
Oh, my God. Will you sign?
- Hello. - Libby...
I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now...
You're right, I don't.
Excuse me.
I'm gonna grab my sad sack husband
and get on the next bus to St Louis.
Because our sex life, is like Chinese water torture.
Well, we are very busy, Mrs...
Clarice Penelope Plantagenet.
Clarice.
With a long waiting list to see new patients in St Louis.
You and Doc Masters ought to franchise your operation.
Give people all over the country
a chance to benefit from your good work.
I do have plans to branch out.
Ah, it isn't just Dr. Fahy who's busy, with a new book, column...
You're writing a column now?
I am considering it.
A column would be so super, like Ann Landers.
Ann Landers started an empire all on her own,
she found her own fan base...
I'll say, 90 million fans.
Ninety...
What? Oh, sure.
More people read Ann Landers
than watch the Nightly News.
So, I'm Trevor. I'm an alcoholic.
Hi, Trevor.
I, uh, fucked up royally last night.
Found myself at a bar, four shots of Jameson under my belt.
Woke up this morning feeling like dog shit.
But everybody makes mistakes.
Maybe I make more than your average bear,
but I'm gonna take this one-day chip tonight,
and try to do my best tomorrow.
Thanks for listening.
Thank you, Trevor.
Before we go, if there's anyone else who has less than 30 days sobriety,
or is in the meeting for their first time,
please feel free to identify yourself
and your disease.
I suppose I could sign this.
The requirement of the court is just that I attend.
And you did attend.
But like all things in life,
you're gonna get out of AA what you put in.
If you're an alcoholic, perhaps that's true.
Do you know what the first step is?
The idea of AA is organized around...
Steps. Lots and lots of steps.
Yes, I saw that in your pamphlet, which I read.
The first step is, admit you're powerless over alcohol.
But that doesn't apply to...
Admit you're powerless over alcohol
and that your life has become unmanageable.
If you're handing me court papers,
can't we safely say your life is unmanageable?
Thank you for that.
In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you sign the papers.
If you have a problem with that, I could go to some other meeting.
You will stay in my meeting.
And since you don't have a license,
I'll drive you here every day myself.
Oh, you will absolutely not.
I insist on it.
It will remind me of just how far I've come.
Do you know what the second step is?
No, I stopped reading the pamphlet
because I'm not an alcoholic.
So if you're not an alcoholic, what are you?
Court mandated.
Surely you're more than that.
Just out of curiosity, what are you?
Seriously, you are...
What?
Hmm? It's a simple question.
What are you? For the love of Christ...
Uh, "Louise."
Why don't we start with what I'm not?
I'm not a man with a wife anymore.
I'm also not a man with a lover.
I don't have a business partner
or even likely a business by the time the court's finish with me.
I am not an obstetrician, I haven't delivered a baby in years.
I'm not a father of any worth.
I am not a man with a home, or a car,
or even a clean suit.
So, I really do appreciate you asking, Louise,
because now we know what I'm not,
maybe you could check in your little book of steps there
and tell me what I am.
The second step is giving yourself over to a higher power.
Well, God and I are not speaking.
I said, "Higher power."
That simply means God as you understand him.
I do not understand God. I'm not a man of faith.
I am a man of science.
I knew you had to be something.
Listen.
Let's just say, you jump out of a plane.
Parachute is on your back,
there's no guarantee that it's going to open.
That right there is faith.
That's not faith. That's science.
It's what parachutes do. They open.
Not all the time, they don't.
All I'm saying is when you jump out of a plane,
you're putting your life in something else's hands.
That's the second step.
I can't take steps.
Why can't you understand this? Not even a single step.
There is no direction I can turn because...
Because you don't know how.
So show up where you're needed, Dr. Masters.
That's it.
Show up and see what happens.
I'll pick you up tomorrow.
You're gonna show up.
No, not too much longer here.
I'm just sorting out a few things.
Of course, Daddy. I'm very happy.
So, kiss the girls for me.
Tell them I'll see them very soon.
Yes. I would like to put a call through to Chicago.
A Mr. Hugh Hefner.
If you'll remember, it was me who lobbied for you when we first met.
I was the one that wanted you as a major investor.
I do remember.
And then you threw in with some perfume magnate instead.
No, I didn't do that. That was Bill.
I don't remember you putting up much of a fight.
I absolutely did fight for you, Hugh.
Only my enemies call me Hugh.
Because from that very first meeting, Hef,
I felt that we were speaking the same language.
That we saw the sexual renaissance in this country
as the same opportunity.
A chance to guide, to educate.
Most people usually see me as a tits and ass peddler.
Well that's because people don't know you.
They don't know that you used to write for Esquire magazine,
that you have a degree in psychology.
People don't understand the seriousness
that you bring to the subject of sex.
My point is...
You and Bill have really led the charge in this field,
started an intelligent discussion about sex...
A discussion that you and I can continue.
What exactly are you suggesting?
What I'm suggesting is
a monthly column in Playboy about sex.
Now, not to pat myself on the back,
but one of my strengths is understanding people,
intuiting their needs.
The problem is, there are only so many hours in the day,
and I am only one woman, but with a column...
It'd be good for you. What's in it for me?
What you wanted from the very beginning.
The legitimacy of science, of data,
of hard facts, without a whiff of titillation.
I'll have to think about it.
Your book is very impressive, it's dry as dust,
but I do like the idea of having lab coats on my side.
You like Chicago this time of year? Very much.
Then you two hop on a plane.
I got rooms galore here at the mansion.
Let's sit down and hammer this thing out.
All right, then. Done.
I'm glad to see you, Libby.
There's a lot we need to talk about.
We're not speaking.
Please, Libby.
We can't just not talk.
We can.
What are you doing here, if we're not speaking?
I'm here to see my lawyer.
Well, can you at least tell me where my clothes are?
This is good news. You're back.
And you look...
I'm not entirely sure I am back, Betty, I just...
Before you finish that thought,
let me paint a picture of the past few weeks,
here at the Masters and Johnson Institute.
I have fended off every patient, creditor, board member, publisher,
process server, delivery boy,
and priest that has walked through those doors.
I have done my job, Lester's job, and Doc Scully's job,
as they've both gone off to find supplemental employment.
But mostly I have done your job and Virginia's job,
which includes conducting patient consultations
in the conference room right now,
because Mr. Connolly's pecker is on the fritz.
Thank you. And I am very...
Ready to meet with the Connollys?
They will be happy you've arrived.
Betty, Virginia was the one who took care of all that,
the intakes, interviews...
I will be right there with you.
That is not a solution.
That is the only solution.
Doc, I have been here
while you've been on your rumspringa or whatever.
So I am asking you, right now,
to please, please, get your ass in there
and do this for me.
The truth is I have no interest in being reasonable or generous.
I want you to do anything and everything you can
to protect me and my children as we proceed through this ordeal.
Protect yourself from?
My husband, obviously.
He is very used to dictating the terms of everything,
at least with me.
Your husband hasn't even hired an attorney yet.
Am I supposed to jump up and down at that news?
Yeah, if you like jumping.
It does show a fairly non-aggressive approach on his part.
At least so far. Do not underestimate him.
I definitely won't.
Or feel sorry for him. I definitely don't.
I am the one who's left with confused children,
and nosy neighbors, and gossiping friends.
Just this morning, when I was canceling his subscription
to the American Medical Journal,
the girl on the phone said, "Why?" So I told her.
That you're getting divorced.
That at first it was a simple dog bite.
Then he began to shake and suffer terrifying hallucinations.
Eventually, paralysis set in.
It was a horrible death. Excruciating, really.
My husband suffered greatly.
Mrs. Masters, you're not the first client
to fantasize her husband's death,
or to feel anger at the demise of her marriage.
Hell hath no fury, after all.
I do know someone, a former client.
She runs a women's group that seems to help some of the gals.
A women's group?
I don't really have the time to exchange housekeeping tips.
This is not that.
We were hoping to start the therapy right away.
Obviously, being unable to obtain an erection is...
A difficult situation.
But there is a process that we follow here.
Dr. Masters and Mrs. Johnson's questionnaire
is an important step in that process, as you can see.
And Mrs. Johnson, where is she?
Vacation. Sick.
She is sick on vacation.
Uh, so...
You met when you worked at Famous-Barr Department Store?
That's right, uh, I was in men's suits.
I ran the shoe department.
That's also when you started dating?
Yes, and we had lots of sex then.
Dale was very turned on by me then.
We would get home from work,
and we wouldn't bother to undress before we were at it.
Is that your recollection as well, Mr. Connolly?
I remember the very first day that I saw her,
in the employee's lounge.
She was so striking.
Wearing this sleek Pucci pantsuit.
She had a fun Fendi bag.
Her beautiful Vivier pumps.
And then we got married, and I quit my job,
and Dale no longer found me attractive.
That's not true.
Now that I'm a housewife.
I love you as much as I always did.
You just don't want to sleep with me.
That's why I'm sitting here, Darleen.
Let me grab the medical questionnaire.
You'll have to fill that out as well.
I'm gonna keep this for a second. I'm still working on it.
Okay.
- Thank you. - Was it me,
or was he hard as Plymouth Rock under that clipboard?
It may have been you.
Or you.
A man excited about a Pucci pantsuit is excited about men.
I don't think he's a homosexual.
Really?
When is the last time that you noticed a fun Fendi bag?
Well, the one thing that's certain is Mr. Connolly is hiding something.
Look, um,
I know you think you're no good at this.
And, yes, as far as warm and fuzzies go,
Virginia had you beat.
But you got a good eye.
You can see things, things other people can't see,
which makes you a very good, you know, puzzle solver.
Considering most of our patients are, well...
They're puzzles.
You're welcome.
My point being,
I don't think you need Virginia to get this guy to talk.
Hi, there. You must be Virginia.
Come on in. Good flight? Follow us.
Oh, here, let me take that. Follow us.
Thank you.
Great, great. Right at me.
Chin down.
We're drinking White Russians today.
Ah, in honor of the Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty?
Yul Brynner is staying with us.
Oh!
I didn't know that Yul Brynner is Russian.
And that dancer, he stays with us sometimes. He's Russian.
I think you mean Nureyev.
Anyway, I was wondering about "Si Non Oxcillas,
"Noli Tintinnare..."
The plaque right above the front door.
It means "If you don't swing, don't ring."
Hugh Hefner's personal secretary. And guard dog.
Roll along now, Heather.
Hef thinks it's fun to have the girls on wheels,
but he doesn't have to find somebody to refinish the parquet floors.
Is Dr. Masters settling up with the driver?
Dr. Masters isn't here.
Oh, caught another flight? No, he's not coming at all.
I came to talk to Hef alone.
Oh.
The wires monitor physiological response.
So if you are able to get an erection,
that would indicate secondary impotence.
Ruling out any physical reason
for the lack of arousal with your wife.
You're saying it's psychological?
Are you saying it is?
I don't know. You're the doctor.
What do you test me with? Images.
I show you slides of, well, many things.
What kinds of things? Women.
Of all shapes and sizes, with various hair colors, clothes,
naked women, their genitalia,
then we move on to couples having sex.
Men. Men?
I'm not attracted to men.
So then you won't get an erection.
It's the point of the wires.
The body doesn't lie.
Look, Dr. Masters, I want to get better.
I really do.
But all this testing just seems pointless.
Can't you just give us the exercises?
I can.
Or I can just tell you the truth.
Which is that I think you're hiding something.
And instead of me trying to coerce
some confession out of you
with the prospect of wires and graphs,
which is what I'm trying to do,
maybe you can just tell me what's going on.
I don't know what you mean.
I think you do.
My dick doesn't work. Have you ever had your dick not work?
I have. Then you know. It's a mystery.
Or a secret.
Because I also know that carrying around a hidden truth,
year after year,
even for a lifetime,
can become an intolerable burden.
There is a certain kind of freedom in just
giving up.
Shoes.
Shoes? I love them.
Women's shoes. Women's feet in high-heeled shoes.
Sometimes, it's all I can think about.
Is this a recent development?
No.
I've been this way since I was eight.
I used to crawl under the table
when my mom would have her bridge parties,
and I would just stare at their feet.
These shiny red toes in high-heeled shoes.
They were so female, so erotic
and forbidden.
And I'm getting aroused just thinking about it.
And your wife has no idea? None.
It was these Vivier pumps she used to wear to work every day.
God, they were... They were so sexy.
Now she wears slippers half the time
or, on a good day, espadrilles
which, in case you don't know, are canvas and flat.
Have you told her that you'd like her back in heels?
Oh, I absolutely cannot. Because?
Because it's weird to want to fuck shoes.
I mean, it's not weird to me,
but she would be repulsed.
She would think I was a freak.
Well, maybe or maybe not.
It might come as a relief,
for both you and her, to finally tell her the truth.
Either way, it's how you feel.
So you don't really have a choice, Dale.
Eventually, you're going to have to say who you really are.
Virginia,
the Windy City is better with you in it.
Are you ready to buckle down and get to work?
I am, Hef. It's nice to see you again.
Don't be alarmed, this really is my office
where I get all of my best work done.
So, what month are you?
Oh...
I'm... I'm not a month. I'm a researcher.
And a hell of a good one.
She and Bill Masters are setting the world on fire.
Where is Bill?
He will not be joining us.
Bill and I have gone our separate ways.
Mmm, break-ups are the worst. You serious?
It doesn't in any way diminish what I have to offer, Hef.
In fact, a column written by a woman,
exclusively for men, as a way of getting a peek behind the curtain,
what a woman really thinks and feels and wants
when it comes to sex.
Men already know what men think,
so Bill writing the column would be almost redundant.
Don't know I agree, Virginia.
While it's none of my business,
I'm curious why the two of you split.
Uh, girls,
I'd like a turkey and Velveeta on white with chips and a Tab.
It got too close between Bill and me.
What happened at work and what happened after work,
it all became hopelessly tangled.
And for many, many years,
I tried to please him.
I gave him as much of myself as I could,
because I thought that
he held the key to who I was meant to be,
to a big life.
And, the truth is I couldn't have done any of this without him.
But I see now, he couldn't have done it without me.
I'm not that girl hoping that Bill Masters
picks me as his secretary anymore.
And you want to stand on your own two feet. With me?
With you, but differently.
'Cause here's what I know,
having worked day and night to take sex out of the Stone Age,
your readership is hungry for what I have to offer,
insights from the nation's best female sex researcher.
All right then. Everyone, settle down.
Before we begin,
are there any new faces who wanna tell it like it is?
Uh... Me. Hi.
Um, I am Libby Masters.
Last names are usually husband's names,
connoting a sense of ownership.
First names are just fine here.
Okay. Then, um...
I am just Libby.
And, uh...
Well, I am...
Oh, is this... This isn't...
No, thank you. I'll just have some coffee,
if there's a fresh pot.
Actually, that's a great reminder, Libby,
for all of us,
that this isn't your mother's coffee klatch.
Not that any group of women getting together isn't worthwhile,
but what we do here is consciousness-raising.
Okay. Um...
An example of raising one's consciousness would be?
Talking about our family life, education, politics, sex, race,
the military establishment,
all from our own personal perspectives.
So you basically share stories.
Yeah, as we try and understand ourselves by ourselves,
without the pressure and interference
of the patriarchal society we live in.
Well, I'm certainly fed up with men, if that's what you mean.
You could call us the fed-up club, right?
And what does our coming together allow us to do?
Free ourselves of the bullshit.
Reject all imposed expectations.
Yes. Amen.
Sound good?
It does.
Actually, I'll take a wine, if you're still pouring.
All right, then.
Who'd like to start by telling the story of their own abortion?
This is the miracle, the miracle I have prayed for.
Do not screw this up.
Hugh Hefner is on the phone and wants to talk to you.
He was definitely listening.
I could tell by the way his face lit up.
I think that Hef feels the column is a good idea.
You know what your problem is?
I wasn't aware that I had a problem.
No. You're a tweener.
Yeah, you're half bunny, half scholar.
Even a man as evolved as Hef is gonna have a hard time
knowing what box you fit in.
Well, I have no intention of fitting into a box.
The times they are a changin', haven't you heard?
Please. That scrawny little frog went electric and got booed.
Don't tell me Bob Dylan's not in a box.
You could always write for some other magazine, you know.
Like Redbook. Redbook?
Redbook is not serious about sex.
And why do I get the feeling that you're discouraging me?
You know what a dowser is?
Those oddballs that walk around with a stick,
try to "divine" where underground water is?
I don't need to see Hef, hear Hef,
even be in the same room with Hef to sense what he's thinking about,
we've been together that long.
So, look, all I'm saying is,
if you really want this job, fight for it.
Fight? What does that mean? Wrestle him in his rotating bed?
Write your first column.
I don't know what the subject matter is yet.
Does a big penis matter?
Can a girl explode if she comes too often?
Does a woman have to prove herself, over and over and over again,
despite her experience and her accomplishments,
every time she wants to take a professional step forward?
A woman always has to audition.
No, a big penis doesn't matter.
Which will be explained in my first column,
Ten Sex Myths Exploded.
That's my girl.
Well?
Hefner wants to become a major investor in the clinic.
He's asking me to come and discuss terms.
Ah! Jesus has come. Hallelujah.
Need a reload, huh?
You're not enjoying this, are you?
I am.
I'm also...
I'm recovering from my husband's prolonged and painful death.
Herb said your husband is William Masters. Did he die?
It's okay.
I used to fantasize I'd castrated my husband
and mounted his penis on the trophy wall.
I just don't think that I'm like those women in there.
Hmm.
The Miss America protest the other day?
No offense,
but burning their bras just seemed silly.
They weren't burning them.
Actually, they were throwing them in the trash.
But it's still kind of a useless gesture, don't you think?
I, um... I want you to try something for me.
Take off your bra.
Again, I just don't think this is me.
And a bra is you?
A breast restraint that's become a multi-billion dollar industry,
owned and operated by men, how does...
How does any of that have anything to do with you?
Who separates a suit jacket from the pants?
Uh, excuse me. As luck would have it, that happens to be my jacket.
I found it first.
In this store, yes.
But that suit jacket came from my closet.
Look, you can see here, it matches the suit pants.
Finders keepers.
Look, I'm sorry, but it's mine.
Listen, I wouldn't insist except I need that jacket.
I'm flying to Chicago
to try and bail out my business.
People are counting on me.
I'm trying to save my life here.
Join the club.
It gets down into the 30s out there at night.
What are you doing here?
I was invited.
What are... I was invited.
What are you wearing?
I hear pretty much everything.
So I know you two are in some hot water, legally.
I've dealt with similar issues.
Zealots who see my magazine as smut instead of what it really is.
Hi.
Hello.
But you will weather this storm.
Go on to do great work.
But only if you do it together.
As I mentioned, Hef,
Bill and I are pursuing work separately now.
In fact, I have a draft of my first column, right here.
Ten Sex Myths Exploded.
"In this age of candor and communication,
"it has been a pleasure to witness
"the demise of some of the more irrational sex myths."
The legal issues are my responsibility.
They are the result of actions I took.
"True, boys may still worry about masturbation..."
I hear you, Virginia. And you too, Bill.
And I understand there's some tension between the two of you.
But here's the deal.
I will only become a major investor if you stay together.
I will only publish your column
if you remain the Masters and Johnson team.
See, this thing is bigger than the two of you.
You're like a brand.
A lifestyle.
Masters and Johnson has a life of its own.
So, if your business is the two of you together,
then use your therapy on yourselves.
Work it out, be open, communicate. I hear it's a protocol that works.
Hef, it cannot work.
Cannot work on us.
You don't have a choice.
And, this is something I understand.
Where does all of this stop and the real Hef begin?
Who knows anymore?
But Masters and Johnson,
like Playboy and Hugh Hefner,
can only be separated now by six feet of dirt and a headstone.
I keep thinking of Dr. Frankenstein.
We made our monster, and now it's on the loose.
It's a good idea. My column.
Well, Playboy isn't the only magazine in the world.
I know.
I'll go elsewhere.
There's always Redbook. Red...
The truth is,
other partnerships have split up
and both people have gone on to do great things.
Look at Freud and Jung.
They never actually worked together. But Rodgers and Hart...
No, Hart died a drunk in a flophouse.
But Lewis and Clark...
I believe Lewis committed suicide after the journey.
Fine, then, Martin and Lewis.
Jerry Lewis?
Well, you must have some plan for yourself.
There's always a plan.
So?
Nothing. I have no plan.
For the first time in my life, I...
Simply show up.
Showed up for Dale Connolly
to help him curb his desire to copulate with shoes.
Wait. You went back to work?
You're seeing patients?
I saw the Connollys because they needed me.
Betty needed me. That is my clinic, too, Bill.
Yes, but you left.
Virginia, you are immensely gifted,
and I'm sure you will more than land on your feet wherever you go.
No. No. No.
I'll use the clinic as my home base.
I work out of my office, regardless of how we split this up.
You're suggesting we just both sit in our offices,
you with your clients, me with mine?
Two practices sharing the same space, happens all the time.
I'm just, uh,
surprised your new husband
is so agreeable to you staying in St. Louis,
given everything.
My husband is remarkably understanding.
So the only way for Masters and Johnson to continue,
while the actual Masters and Johnson do not...
We would have to hire new people.
New partners.
For both of us.
Our working relationship
would have to be strictly professional.
I couldn't abide it any other way. So glad to hear that.
You'll forgive me if I'm a bit wary, though.
Why is it that I should believe that you've changed?
Because for 12 years,
I've tried every way,
every wrong and misguided way to win your heart,
only to realize in these last,
very dark weeks,
you wanted something else.
So you picked someone else.
Which means that part of us, together,
is over
for good.
I'm glad that that is clear between us.
There's not a lot we know about St. Joseph.
He was Jesus' Earthly father.
He, uh... He dreamed a lot.
And, well, in those dreams, he was visited by angels.
One day, an angel appeared to him
and told him that he must take the Virgin Mary as his wife.
Does everyone understand what a... They do not.
Well, Joseph discovered that Mary was going to have a baby.
And this upset Joseph,
because he knew that he wasn't the father,
so she must love someone else.
Then another angel appeared to him
and said that Mary had not loved another man,
that the child she carried was the Son of God,
and that he must keep her as his wife.
Anyway.
Uh...
Things like this don't happen in real life.
What I mean is,
most men wouldn't believe this story.
But Joseph was a special man,
and he decided that he'd believe something
that he couldn't understand.
He decided he'd have faith.
And he replied to the angel,
"May God's will be done in me."
I have seen people have huge breakthroughs their first week.
Don't hold your breath.