Monday, August 16, 2010
A Little Slap & Tickle
Happy Monday, clusterfucks! It's time once again to take a little trip to the dark side. Come with me on a journey of mayhem, violence, murder ... a little deviant sex ... at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace, right here ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 15 of FULL BODY, we return to The International, DC's most exclusive 'gentleman's spa,' where things are heating up when club owner/crime boss Yuri Vlaovic brings his darling daughter Etya a most violent present. Meanwhile, Aussie spinner Lindsay Lette and Navy Seal Gus Harden get down and dirty in a VIP room, and newbie Summer Donovan must fight off the pervy advances of black ops spook Dwight Blank.
INT. ETYA’S OFFICE - NIGHT
The sublimely ridiculously catchy Austrian 80’s
power-pop of Falco’s AMERIKA over --
Etya. Cleaning a gleaming Sig Hauser.
Vodka bottle and shot glass nearby.
She nods to the music.
SLAMS down the magazine.
How DARE she think
she can come into my life --
and FUCK with it -- AGAIN.
Etya pours a shot. Raises it, a toast.
Death in family --
Downs it. She pours another.
Stands. Downs it.
Starts doing a drunken, demented twist.
Amerika, wo, wo, wo, wo --
A KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK on the door.
She shuts off the music.
Is open. Come in.
Yuri ambles in.
Hands in pockets.
I come bearing gift, darling daughter.
Oh! I love gift --
but what about security you promise?
Yuri pulls twin UZIS out of this pockets.
They bring out the black in your eyes.
Oh, Poppa -- you know just what
to give a girl.
I think I’m going to cry --
INT. BLUE MASSAGE SUITE - AT THAT MOMENT
The liquid, bubbling Fraulein-trance of Iio’S RAPTURE over --
Lindsey and Gus in a clinch.
Devouring each other.
Gus has her up against the wall.
Ravaging her. Hungry. Needy. Horny.
You are so --
Fucking -- hot --
I want you. I’ve gotta --
Shhhhh. The walls have ears. And eyes.
IN THE MASSAGE ROOM
Lindsey looks at the camera
high up on the wall.
She walks directly below it.
Presses her ass into the corner.
Peek-a-boo, I can’t see you --
Now where were we?
Gus comes to her.
Runs his fingers through her hair.
Fucking our brains out?
He lifts her skirt.
Starts to slide in.
SEALS ride bareback, baby.
Gotta problem with that?
(pulls out a condom)
Yeah, I do.
No glove, no love.
No deep stealth without it.
She deftly RIPS it open,
pops it in her mouth. Smiles.
FROM BEHIND LINDSEY
we see her head move down to his crotch. SNAP.
Hey -- no pain, no gain.
FROM BEHIND GUS
we see him THRUST into her.
Hard. Then harder. Claws at her.
She writhes with unbelievable pleasure.
Holy fucking shit --
Permission to come, MISS --
Permission -- GRANTED.
INT. GOLD MASSAGE SUITE - AT THAT MOMENT
The silky, suave, international-intrigue
of Thievery Corporation’s INCIDENT AT GATE 7 over --
Summer, standing at the end of the massage table.
Holds a coke inhaler to her nose.
SNORTS. Rubs it. SNORTS. Smiles.
Took him out in one shot
from a range of three hundred yards.
In the dark. And I had a cold.
But he was a bad guy, right?
Dwight comes into frame.
Towel wrapped around his waist.
SLAPS down a large bundle of bills.
Takes the snifter.
Elected by the people? Nah.
The White House was pissed
that he wouldn’t trade weapons for blow.
(points at the cash)
That’s about five grand.
Should be enough for
a little slap and tickle.
He comes over.
Puts hands on her waist.
She backs away.
'Slap and tickle?'
Wang dang sweet poontang, baby.
We can’t have intercourse.
It’s against the rules.
Now c’mon, get up on the table,
let me give you a massage.
No fucking? Ah, man -- what a gyp.
This sure as shit isn’t Thailand.
In Phuket? You can get a
thirteen-year-old virgin for twenty bucks.
For the NIGHT.
And she doesn’t give you any fucking lip.
Well, this isn’t Thailand.
And you better get your butt in gear
if you want to feel my splendor.
One squeeze. Each tit. One hundy.
She nods. Pained. He GRABS them.
Ow! Not so hard!
That’s your first warning!
He giggles. Turns away.
Takes off the towel.
Reveals a bony white ass.
Gets up. Lays on his stomach.
Jeez. Such a delicate creature.
C’mon, lighten up.
This IS a service industry, you know --
(turns his head toward her)
How about a hundred for a blumpkin?