Masters of Sex
All Together Now

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 43 USERS: A
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The High Striker

Margaret: "Austin, someone's coming."
Austin: "You bet your ass somebody's coming!"
Margaret: "No I mean like we have to stop fucking because my husband just drove up."
Austin: "This part was a lot more fun in our heads."

She walks out onto the stairs and watches the foyer. He looks small, he's walking smaller. She tells him not to worry, she was awake; he spins a tale about the train, and the cancelled trip. She doesn't move. And when he asks her what's wrong, she surprises them both.

"I need you to go to your bedroom, Barton, and stay there. Please."

The very simple secret to having porn on your computer worry-free is this: Label it "Pornography." Anybody who clicks that, it's on them. Nobody ever would anyway -- the people you think are itching to find out your secrets don't actually give a shit; they have secrets of their own -- but sometimes that's harder to believe. Until then, this trick. In fact, if you want to keep anything out of arm's reach, just stick it in a folder marked "Pornography." I guarantee you nobody will ever see it. The 21st-century version of telling Vivian to stack your jump-offs' numbers by the phone. And here, the same principle: Barton, go to your room. We both know why. This is the solution. Goodnight.

LIBBY

On the TV they're doing a dance lesson. She's drunk and distracted or maybe she'd listen to the man: "Forward and back, now up and down. One and two, three and four." All the positions.

Bill stumbles in apologizing like a man who's been cheating; he can't very well tell her he was sewing up his gay boss's lacerations. In any case it doesn't matter. She's toasted.

Libby: "There he is. The very man who bought me my first martini! Remember? The Majestic ballroom, you danced to the Lester Lanin Band..."
Bill: "I was 27, I would have climbed the Matterhorn to impress you."
Libby: "You didn't have to. Listen, I've been experimenting. Doing science. It took a few tries, but I got the proportion just right. A hint of vermouth, like at Vito's..."

He looks at her, his night already shaken; for a second she can see herself, through his eyes, and she's not all that glamorous. She ignores it.

Bill: "Is that all you've had to eat? Some crackers and..."
Libby: "We're well past that now. Let's get down to business."
Bill: "You are not getting anywhere near my business, for reasons."

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Masters of Sex

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