Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Girls On Film

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Hump Day. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 1 of LEGS, Episode 2, we pick up right where we left off in the pilot, where private eye Carrie Love is making love to porn star Laura Lang on the floor of her bungalow ... while a mysterious stranger in black videotapes them through the window ...

Cavernous. Funky, comfortable furniture.
Giant sound system. Pin-up art.
Movie posters of iconic female action heroes.

A few dozen multi-colored candles
around the room dance in the cool night wind
coming in from the open skylight above.

LAURA LANG (20’s), blonde, impossibly Brit-beautiful
is making love to our hero, CARRIE LOVE (30’s),
tall, dark and curvy on the floor
in front of a roaring fire.

It’s carnal. Animal.
Possibly vegetable.

Carrie MOANS with pleasure.
Laura makes low, guttural GROWLING sounds.

Heart-attack inducing stuff for your average,
red-blooded American male.

And more than a few females.

You’re probably thinking, wow.
She’s having sex with a porn star.
It’s gotta be fucking incredible.
I must confess it IS pretty gnarly.
But not for the reason you might think.
Sure, they know all the tricks -- literally --
but when someone has sex all day,
every day for a living --
trust me, it can get old.
Real fast.
Kinda like asking a lawyer
you’re dating for free legal advice.
Or a doctor friend about that cold
that just won’t go away.
Most people like to leave work at work.
You don’t wanna fuck where you eat.
But when the cameras are off,
and there’s no one else around,
your average porn star can
let their hair down -- so to speak --
and be their real self.
Which, by the way, usually isn’t
much different from you and me --
the cliche of the perpetually horny
nymphomaniac victim of abuse
is just that, a cliche.
After all that pretending,
YOU’RE the one that’s getting the real thing.
And I ain’t talking about Coke.
Oh. And since we’re on the subject of cliches --
you know the one about lesbian foreplay?
How we like to spend hours and hours
fondling each other’s breasts?
Complete bullshit.
If I don’t come in five minutes,
I’m outta there.
Now where was I?
Oh, yeah --

Carrie SCREAMS with pleasure.
Achieves lift-off.

GRABS Laura for dear life.
Riding the love roller coaster.

Wave after wave washes over her
like a tsunami from hell.

Laura HOWLS like a dog.
They clench.

Hold each other for dear life.
Breathe heavily.

We hold on this for a long beat.

Ohmifuckinggod was that incredible.

That’ll do in a pinch --

(starts to get up)
Need a cigarette.

Get one for me, too?

She nods.
Walks over to where her handbag
lies on the floor.

Gets her smokes.
Her lighter.
Then sees something.

What the fuck?

She DASHES over to the big picture window.

What’s wrong?

There’s some fucking PERVERT
out there WATCHING us.

Carrie RUNS to the front door.
Opens it, RACES outside --

The wind WHIPS through the small trees
around her patio.

A FIGURE IN BLACK runs toward the front gate.
GRABS the handle, OPENS it,
and DASHES OFF into the night.

Carrie stands on the stoop,
eyes searching for the intruder.

Laura comes out,
leather jacket around her shoulders.

Who was it?

Didn’t get a good look at him.
Fucker had a video camera.
He was taping us.

Guess that’s my lot in life.
'Girls on film.'

Let’s go back in.
I’m freezing.

I’m starving.

(grabs the doorknob)
I’ll fix you a snack.

Great idea.
Then afterwards we can
have something to eat --

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