Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 9 of FULL BODY, in a stunning plot twist, we learn that receptionist Reynolds Tan is actually an undercover agent on a sting to take down The International spa. Meanwhile, Summer Donvan learns the ropes of bondage and discipline with her new client, former Vice President Cameron Bisby ... while, at that moment, manager Etya Vlaovic's mother Mavra arrives on a flight from Croatia, packing more than heat ...
INT. THE INTERNATIONAL - RECEPTION AREA - NIGHT
The room is empty.
Reynolds speaks in to her headset.
REYNOLDS
Boss?
I’m going to take five for a smoke.
(listens)
Great, thanks.
(hangs up)
Communist cunt.
EXT. THE INTERNATIONAL - BACK ALLEY - AT THAT MOMENT
Reynolds lights up a super-long Capri.
Fingers a number on her cell phone.
Listens.
REYNOLDS
Reynolds Tan for Detective Nassour.
(listens)
Ali? It’s me, Reynolds.
(listens)
Watching her like a hawk.
Are you ready with the sting?
(listens)
Well, if you’ll pardon the expression, sir,
could you please hurry it the fuck up?
It’s been over a year now,
and I’m losing a layer of skin
from scrubbing off the sleaze every night.
(listens)
Hold on tight?
Hold on TIGHT?
What the fuck do you think I --
(listens)
Hello? Ali -- ?
(listens)
Goddamn fucking Cingular wireless.
Roaming my ass.
INT. BLACK MASSAGE SUITE - AT THAT MOMENT
Nouvelle Vague’s sultry French-femme bossa nova
cover of Public Image’s THIS IS NOT A LOVE SONG over --
Cammy.
Decked out in a black mask,
studded harness and buckled bondage boots.
In power.
Or, ready for Halloween.
Summer trembles in a tiny
rubber French maid outfit.
Holds a feather duster like a wand.
Bites her lower lip.
BISBY
Breathtaking.
(meaningfully)
How do you feel?
SUMMER
Uh -- exposed?
BISBY
Master.
Exposed, master.
SUMMER
I’m sorry?
BISBY
You call me master.
When I ask you a question,
you answer ‘master.’
Understand?
SUMMER
(scared)
Yes -- master.
BISBY
Good.
Now get down on your knees.
SUMMER
But I thought I was going to --
BISBY
Do it! NOW.
On your KNEES.
Or you will be punished.
SUMMER
Y-yes, sir -- master.
She awkwardly gets down. Kneels.
BISBY
Now put the riding crop in your mouth.
Summer does.
Face turns red.
BISBY (CONT’D)
Good girl. Yes.
She’s humiliated. Lovely.
I believe I see a small tear.
(brightly)
Okay. Massage time.
EXT. DC INTERNATIONAL AIPORT - TARMAC - AT THAT MOMENT
The swirling, ominous Soviet-block new wave bleat of
Lene Lovich’s HOME roils a dark cloud over --
An airplane pulling up to the passenger chute.
AIR CROATIA.
LENE LOVICH (V.O.)
Home is where the heart is,
home is so remote,
home is just emotion,
sticking in my throat --
IN THE WAITING AREA
a line of Eastern-Europeans
silently file in. Exhausted.
ANGLE ON:
A WOMAN IN BLACK (late 40’s)
leads the pack.
Red lips curled with self-satisfaction.
Striking.
Despite the shades and hat,
we sense the Chanel-clad lioness
is a real stunner.
Meet MAVRA VLAOVIC.
Striding purposely.
On a mission.
Black vinyl thigh-high boots
stop short of her micro-mini.
CLACK-CLACKING in time --
And we realize the music
is on her Ipod.
ON THE MOVING SIDEWALK
she glides by. Imperious.
Men look. Double take.
There’s that smile again.
Damn. She knows it.
MAVRA
(sings along)
Let’s go to your place,
let’s go to your place --
A GREY SUIT
approaches her.
Offers his card.
She WHACKS it away, regal. Laughs.
He shrinks away.
Struck down.
Humiliated.
AT THE CUSTOMS WINDOW
A SURLY AGENT appraises her.
SURLY AGENT
You haff anything to declare?
MAVRA
I do not.
(lowers shades, eyes glinting)
Do you?
The agent’s eyes flicker. Wow.
SURLY AGENT
Welcome to America, Ms. Vlaovic.
MAVRA
Miss Vlaovic, dahling.
She pulls out a cigarette case.
Slides out a red Sherman.
SURLY AGENT
I’m sorry, but there’s no smoking.
Mavra lights up.
Eyes taunting.
MAVRA
Well, then yoo better point way
to my limousine before
I become enemy of state --
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