Feeding Time

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 9 of LEGS, dominatrix Felina Bella Donna has spirited private eye Carrie Love away to her secret lair, where they make passionate, cruel, kinky love.


INT. FELINA'S KITCHEN - NIGHT
Carrie laps milk from a bowl
on the floor. Looks up, shy.

Felina fastens a collar around her neck,
strokes her hair.

Attaches a studded leather leash.
Stands up. Pulls it taught.

FELINA
That's a good little kittie-cat.

CARRIE
Meow.

FELINA
Do you know what happens to
good little kitties
who finish their milk?

CARRIE
Meow?

FELINA
They get rewarded.
Get their fur stroked.

She jerks the leash,
almost too hard.

FELINA
Here, kittie-kittie --

Carrie gets up. Stands before her.
Inflamed.

Felina reaches out,
gently grasps Carrie’s collar.
Pulls her prize close.

CARRIE
(barely audible)
Mmm-meow.

FELINA
Look what the cat dragged in.
(hands on Carrie’s breasts)
I think it’s feeding time.

And their lips meet.
A soft, electric spark --
which bursts into flame.

The women go at it, roughly.
Needy. Hungry.

Felina backs Carrie up against the fridge, BANG.
Carrie raises her arms, grabs the handles.

Felina reaches under,
goes up Carrie’s skirt, when --
The double-size doors FLY OPEN, WHOOSH --

and FOOD CONTAINERS SPRAY OUT,
CRASHING DOWN.

The women HIT THE FLOOR,
start pawing each other.

Desert nomads who found the oasis.
Drinking. Feeding.

INT. FELINA'S BEDROOM - DAWN
A sultry jazz swoon, like Miles.
Sketches of Spain.

The rising sun casts a glow
in Felina's boudoir.

Lush, very feminine.
And totally trashed.

Pillows, blankets, sheets,
food, wine glasses.
The debris of passion.

The women lie on the floor
next to a broken table lamp,
Felina's face buried in
Carrie's chest, snuggling.

Carrie strokes Felina's hair.
Looks out into space.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Not to get to metaphysical or anything,
but I’ve never gotten the whole Jesus thing.
I mean, he basically committed suicide, right?
So what the fuck does that
have to do with my sins?
Some new age carpenter finds out
his crew is going to off him
because they’re scared of his serenity --
and he just blindly walks into their trap?
Pretty pointless, if you ask me.
Thanks, fella -- have a great afterlife.
Watch out for that second coming.
(beat)
I mean, what the fuck does that have to do
with what gets me wet.
Why I was so easily seduced --
when I’m supposed to be in mourning.

Felina stirs. Looks up at Carrie.

FELINA
(groggy)
Mmmm. Is it morning?

EXT. SANTA MONICA - OCEAN AVENUE - DAY
Ventures-like jangly surf guitar.
Carrie’s vintage Porsche flies through
a tunnel of palm trees.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS
The car pulls in front of a posh,
glistening condo high rise.

Carrie pulls out her cell phone.
Punches a number.

CARRIE
The eagle has landed.
You ready to roll?
(listens)
Lock and load me, babe.

The DOORMAN walks over.

DOORMAN
Nice car. That's a -- 356c?

CARRIE
356b.

DOORMAN
What is it, a ‘61?

CARRIE
It’s a ‘62.

Megan appears, cool in black.
She slides into the coupe.

CARRIE
Hello, officer.
You make me feel like
doing something a little illegal.

MEGAN
Careful, detective,
or I'll have to cite you for soliciting.

They kiss. The doorman stares.

MEGAN
(to the doorman)
Hey, Roger. Lovely day, huh?
(to Carrie)
Whattya say we blow this yuppie habitat.

CARRIE
Solid. Let's go catch some bad guys --