Front view. One evening in a seedy French PMU bar, a 35-year-old woman is sitting on the bar next to the beer taps. She is a bitt chubby, she has long, wavy chestnut-coloured hair, tousled and sweaty, her pale skin is covered in freckles all over her body, and she has small, natural breasts and voluptuous hips and thighs. She is wearing a blue denim jacket, a very tight-fitting white stretch synthetic T-shirt that hints at her breasts and nipples beneath, a coral-red skirt rolled up over her hips, and black lace knickers pushed to one side, revealing her short-cropped, hairy pussy. She looks drunk and intrigued, a little frightened but aroused. Her eyes are half closed. She is surrounded by a crowd of scruffy men aged between 45 and 65 – working-class, alcoholic, lecherous and boisterous – some of whom have taken their cocks out of their trousers and are masturbating, they caress her, finger her arse, kiss her neck and pinch her breasts. The lighting is subdued and neon signs glow behind the bar.