Die Another Day

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 18 of FULL BODY, Australian spinner Lindsay Lett and Navy Seal Gus Hardon secretly get it on in the massage room, but after they finish, she blows his mind with a surprising demand. Meanwhile, in the next room, Summer is having a hard time getting black ops spook Dwight Blank to 'finish' ...


INT. BLUE MASSAGE ROOM - NIGHT
Gus and Lindsey fuck
for all their worth.

It’s animal.
Vegetable. Mineral.

He arches his back.
Beaming. In ecstasy.

Lindsey’s fingers race
through his hair.

LINDSEY
Fucking CHRIST --
I’m gonna, I’m gonna --

GUS
So AM I!
Goddamn fucking Jesus CHRIST!

And, in a moment of pure cinema --
They CLIMAX simultaneously.

He bucks, HEAVES.
She shakes, GRINDS.

They grip each other.
Sweaty. Salty. Spent.

Then pull apart.
Gus gets a towel.

Wipes himself.
Ties it around his waist.

GUS
That was -- fucking awesome.

LINDSEY
(goofy grin)
Yeah.
(beat)
Goddammit.

GUS
We gotta do that
again sometime.

LINDSEY
Any time.

Gus motions to the door.

GUS
Well, I guess I gotta --

LINDSEY
Yeah.
(beat)
Oh.
One last thing --

GUS
Sure.
What?

Pause.

LINDSEY
(brightly)
That’ll be a thousand dollars.

INT. GOLD MASSAGE SUITE - AT THAT MOMENT
From the side, we see
Summer working on Dwight.

He lies on his back, knees up,
obscuring the details.

The spook moans an eerie rasp
of dark pleasure.

Summer’s exhausted.
This has been going on for a while.

Beads of sweat on her brow.
Wipes it with her wrist. Sighs.

DWIGHT’S
face is a rictus of concentration.
Eyes rolled back.

Sharp pink tongue of a serpent,
demented flicks on cracked lips.

THE CLOCK
reads ‘10:24.’

SUMMER
sighs.

Looks over at the bar.
Closes her eyes.

INT. CLUB - NIGHT - FLASHBACK
Small, smoky hipster dive.
Posers and pros on the prowl.

Standing on a tiny stage is SUMMER.
Retro-cool in a Mondrian print dress.

Silver go-go boots and headband.
She raises a pink martini.

Takes a sip.
Toasts the crowd.

SUMMER
This one’s a cover.
Guess the artist,
and I’ll buy you a round.

Spazzy surf-guitar and flute.
Outer-space bongos.

The Supreme Beings of Leisure’s
GOLDDIGGER.

SUMMER
(sings)
Just a lazy cat
in a dog eat dog world --
You know the early bird
always catches the worm --
Golddigger --

She shimmies and sways.
Knocking ‘em out.
Leans in close.

SUMMER
Gotta rocket in your pocket
and it’s straight to the top --
Golddigger, who says
you can’t have it all?

INT. GOLD MASSAGE SUITE - CONTINUOUS
Summer peers down
at her ridiculous mission.

Looks at the clock.
It reads ‘10:29.’

She SMILES.
Eyes darting.

SUMMER
Time’s almost up.
Shoot it or lose it.

Dwight’s eyes open.
He GRABS her wrist.

DWIGHT
No. Wait.
I haven’t come --

She WHIPS him away.
THROWS a towel over him.

SUMMER
Then I guess you’ll have to
die another day, Mr. Bond.

PUSH IN ON Summer.
In control.
Getting the fuck outta there --