Smooth, Round, Hard

It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh. Where the chicks are hot, and the action hotter, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 12 of FULL BODY, we return to The International, DC's most exclusive 'gentleman's spa,' where the girls are now starting sessions with their new clients. First up, French-African gazelle Ayanna starts to work on Chick Almond, the Surgeon General, who has a little surprise in his doctor's bag. Meanwhile, Portuguese goddess Catalina has to deal with Omar Turgenev, the very 'grabby' Turkish ambassador ...


INT. RED MASSAGE SUITE - NIGHT
Ayanna lounges in the spa. Drinks champagne.

In steps DR. CHICK ALMOND (70’s).
A tall, gaunt, wizened shadow of a man.
Large eyes, like a Keane child.
He eases grey, hairless, ruined limbs
carefully into the water.

AYANNA
So have you found the cure for AIDS yet,
Dr. Almond?

CHICK
Chick. Call me Chick.

AYANNA
What, are you gay?

CHICK
It’s a name from another era, I’m afraid.
Sort of like ‘Edna’ or ‘Slim.’
Can I get a bit of that bubbly?
Water’s hot.
(winks)
And so are you.

AYANNA
Honey, if my skin wasn’t so dark,
you’d see me blush.

CHICK
Honey, the last time you blushed
George Bush was knee-deep
in Bolivian booger sugar.
(beat)
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha --
just fucking with you.
Get what you pay for, eh?

AYANNA
(pours drink, haughty)
Sometimes what you think you’re buying
turns out to be a rental.
And the price is too high.

CHICK
Touche.
I see you’re not a strumpet.
Speaking of ‘high’ --

AYANNA
What the fuck’s a strumpet?

CHICK
Ah, vocabulary.
A -- lady of the evening.

AYANNA
Hell, no. I went to the Sorbonne.
Speak four languages.
AND am descended from Ghanaian ROYALTY.
Don’t make me laugh.
(beat)
You said ‘speaking of high.’
You have something naughty
in your little black bag?

CHICK
I thought you’d never ask.

AYANNA
I would imagine the Surgeon General’s office
has only the best.

CHICK
Sweetie. You have no idea.

INT. BLACK MASSAGE SUITE - AT THAT MOMENT
Catalina steps out of the spa.
Wraps a towel around her.

OMAR TURGENEV (45) watches.
Smooth, pretty boy,
the ‘Turkish Victor Mature.’
Adjusts his groin under a jet of water.

But why is he still wearing his tie?

CATALINA
You grab me like that,
you have to pay extra.
Pulling on me like I was Turkish taffy.

OMAR
Come back in. Please.
I keep my hands to myself.

CATALINA
I think we should start your massage.
This is only a forty-five-minute session.
(sexy, teasing)
And I thought ambassadors
made out like bandits.

OMAR
(starts to get out)
We do. It’s just that Madame Turgenev and I
are attending the Croatian embassy ball tonight.
And if I’m late, it’s my head on a wrought iron post.

He goes to the bar.
Grabs his drink.
Takes a sip. Smiles.

CATALINA
Come. Let the angel of Lisbon
take you to new heights of pleasure.

Omar goes to the table.
As he passes her, SLAPS her rear.

CATALINA
Hey!

OMAR
Whoops. Was that your ass?
(puts drink down)
I’m sorry. I’m a bad boy.
Forgive me?

He hops on up.
Catalina turns her head.
Silently curses.

OMAR
Did you say something?

CATALINA
That’s fifty dollars added to your tab.

OMAR
Worth every penny.
Smooth. Round. Hard.
You should be proud.
(lays down his head)
Ready for new heights,
my Latin goddess.

She squirts oil on her hands.
Big smile. Eyes full of hatred.

CATALINA
Then let’s start climbing --