That’s when she meets Tony (the guy on the motorcycle)—the first guy who has genuinely interested her since her long-lost love, Peter. She asks him to take her picture, and he agrees as long as she leaves her prestige behind and doesn’t contradict him throughout the session. Naturally, Margaret is intrigued by this man who tells her like it is.
As she relays the encounter to her sister, she admits that what she finds so fascinating about Anthony is his contempt for what the royal family stands for. Oh, and his sexual ambiguity.
She arrives at his studio, and Tony proceeds to do everything but take her picture. (No, that’s not an innuendo so cool your jets.) He leaves her in his sitting area smoking a cigarette, while he throws around furniture in his loft. It’s the oddest foreplay Margaret has ever experienced (or us, for that matter). Eventually, Tony returns downstairs and starts snapping shots of her.
“You have no idea who you are,” he taunts, challenging her about how poorly treated she has been by her family. The sexual tension between them as palpable, as Tony continues to push her about her feelings for Peter. As Margaret drops the last bit of her facade, Tony proudly announces that he got the picture he needed. A true artist.