Underneath the negligee, her body was still a straight line.
"Go back in there and get out of that harness you're wearing."
Still silent, she did as I told her. And this time when she came out, she moved. Nobody could miss the fact that there was a woman underneath that negligee.
"That's more like it," I said. "We'll shoot those scenes again now."
Rina nodded and turned away.
Miss Gaillard's voice stopped her.
"We can't photograph her like that."
I looked at the designer. "What did you say?"
Miss Gaillard stood up. "We can't shoot her like that. Her bust bounces."
I laughed.
"What's the matter with that?
Tits should bounce."
"Of course," the designer said quickly. "But on the screen everything is exaggerated."
She looked at the cameraman. "Isn't that right, Lee?"
The cameraman nodded.
"That's right, Mr. Cord.
They won't look natural at all."
"We'll have to put some kind of brassiere on her," Miss Gaillard said.
"O.K. Go see what you can do."
A moment later, Rina and the designer came out of the bathroom. They walked toward me.
It was better than the original harness but they didn't look as good as they did without restraint. It just didn't look right to me.
I got up from the desk and walked over to Rina.
"Let me see."
Rina looked at me, her eyes deliberately distant. Impassively she dropped the negligee from her shoulders, holding it to her by the crook of her elbows.
"Turn right," I said. "Now left." I stepped back and looked at Rina.
I knew what it was now.
Whenever she turned, the brassiere pulled and flattened, which was what gave her breasts that unnatural look.
I looked at the designer.
"Maybe if we took off the shoulder straps?"
Ilene Gaillard shrugged.
"We can try."
She reached over and pushed down the straps.
Rina stood there, her eyes fixed on some distant point over my shoulder.
"Now turn." The brassiere still cut into her breasts. "Unhh-unhh," I said. "I still don't like it."
"There's one other thing I can try."
"O.K.," I said.
A few minutes later, they came out again.
Rina wore a wire-ribbed contraption almost like a small corset, except it didn't come down over her hips.
And when she moved, her breasts didn't.
You could see them all right, but they looked as if they had been molded out of plaster of Paris.
I looked at the designer.
"Isn't there some way we can cut out some of those wires?"
"I think that looks fine, Mr. Cord.
Anyway, I don't see why you're so worried about her bustline.
Her legs are good and you'll see plenty of them."
"Miss Gaillard, since you're not a man, I don't expect you to understand what I'm getting at.
I can see all the legs I want to see just walking down the street.
Just answer my question, please."
"No, we can't cut the wires, Mr. Cord," she replied, equally polite. "If we do, she might as well be wearing nothing.
There wouldn't be enough rigidity to support her."