Look What The Cat Dragged In

Monday, Monday. So bad to me. Feeling like MacKenzie Phillips after a little 'Daddy action?' Then we've got the cure for what ails you. Some pulse-pounding, hardboiled, fresh-squeezed pulp, hot off the press ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's sleazy chapter from LEGS, where the flames of passion start to lick higher and higher ...

Into today's episode, private eye Carrie Love makes love with 'dominatrix to the stars' Felina Bella Donna, back at her lair ...

And, afterwards, Carrie cruises the mean streets and picks up former flame/patrolwoman Megan Paul on a little fact-finding mission.

That's right. That Carrie Love sure gets around ...

INT. FELINA'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

Carrie laps milk from a bowl on the floor. Looks up, shy.

Felina fastens a collar around her neck, strokes her hair.

Attaches a studded leather leash. Stands up. Pulls it taught.

FELINA

That's a good little kittie-cat.

CARRIE

Meow.

FELINA

Do you know what happens to good little kitties

who finish their milk?

CARRIE

Meow?

FELINA

They get rewarded. Get their fur stroked.

She jerks the leash, almost too hard.

FELINA (CONT’D)

Here, kittie-kittie --

Carrie gets up. Stands before her. Inflamed.

Felina reaches out, gently grasps Carrie’s collar.

Pulls her prize close.

CARRIE

(barely audible)

Mmm-meow.

FELINA

Look what the cat dragged in.

(hands on Carrie’s breasts)

I think it’s feeding time.

And their lips meet.

A soft, electric spark -- which bursts into flame.

The women go at it, roughly. Needy. Hungry.

Felina backs Carrie up against the fridge, BANG.

Carrie raises her arms, grabs the handles.

Felina reaches under, goes up Carrie’s skirt, when --

The double-size doors FLY OPEN, WHOOSH --

and FOOD CONTAINERS SPRAY OUT, CRASHING DOWN.

The women HIT THE FLOOR, start pawing each other.

Desert nomads who found the oasis. Drinking. Feeding.

INT. FELINA'S BEDROOM - DAWN

A sultry jazz swoon, like Miles. Sketches of Spain.

The rising sun casts a glow in Felina's boudoir.

Lush, very feminine. And totally trashed.

Pillows, blankets, sheets, food, wine glasses.

The debris of passion.

The women lie on the floor next to a broken table lamp,

Felina's face buried in Carrie's chest, snuggling.

Carrie strokes Felina's hair. Looks out into space.

CARRIE (V.O.)

Not to get to metaphysical or anything,

but I’ve never gotten the whole Jesus thing.

I mean, he basically committed suicide, right?

So what the fuck does that have to do with my sins?

Some new age carpenter finds out his crew

is going to off him because they’re scared of his serenity --

and he just blindly walks into their trap?

Pretty pointless, if you ask me.

Thanks, fella -- have a great afterlife.

Watch out for that second coming.

(beat)

I mean, what the fuck does that have to do

with what gets me wet.

Why I was so easily seduced --

when I’m supposed to be in mourning.

Felina stirs. Looks up at Carrie.

FELINA

(groggy)

Mmmm. Is it morning?

EXT. SANTA MONICA - OCEAN AVENUE - DAY

Ventures-like jangly surf guitar.

Carrie’s vintage Porsche flies through a tunnel of palm trees.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS

The car pulls in front of a posh, glistening condo high rise.

Carrie pulls out her cell phone. Punches a number.

CARRIE

The eagle has landed. You ready to roll?

(listens)

Lock and load me, babe.

The DOORMAN walks over.

DOORMAN

Nice car. That's a -- 356c?

CARRIE

356b.

DOORMAN

What is it, a ‘61?

CARRIE

It’s a ‘62.

Megan appears, cool in black.

She slides into the coupe.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

Hello, officer.

You make me feel like doing something a little illegal.

MEGAN

Careful, detective, or I'll have to cite you for soliciting.

They kiss. The doorman stares.

MEGAN (CONT'D)

(to the doorman)

Hey, Roger. Lovely day, huh?

(to Carrie)

Whattya say we blow this yuppie habitat.

CARRIE

Solid. Let's go catch some bad guys.