My Lips Are Sealed

Hello Ruby Tuesday, crime slicksters -- will they hang a noose on you? 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 22 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love and production assistant Jenny Lane wake up 'the next morning,' and then 'get busy.' Meanwhile, wannabe torture porn director Phillie Pfugg and his squeeze Chinette return home from 'a special dinner' at Sizzler, and discover a horrifying surprise ...


INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - MORNING
Now that it’s light out, we can see
through the wall of windows
the Marina Peninsula’s Grand Canal.

It’s quite a sight.
Worth every penny of the outrageous rent.

Nestled in a large, airy studio
is a kitchenette.

Dinette. Work stationette.
Entertainment centerette.
Very cute.

Carrie leans against the kitchenette counter.
Rakish in Jenny’s white terry cloth robe.
Holding a mug of coffee.

CARRIE
Not as hung over
as I thought I’d be.
(beat)
Did we -- you know,
do anything, uh -- ?

JENNY
comes into frame.
With her coffee.


JENNY
No. You passed out.
I slept on the couch.

CARRIE
Good. Don’t want to
compromise -- the case.

Pause.

JENNY
We did -- kiss.

CARRIE
We did?
(off Jenny’s nod)
Did you like it?

JENNY
(quiet)
I did.

Carrie puts down her mug.
Puts her hands on Jenny’s hips.

CARRIE
Rule one.
Don’t mix business with pleasure.

JENNY
(strokes Carrie’s hair)
Uh-huh.

CARRIE
Rule two.
Don’t get involved on the rebound.

JENNY
(puts arms on Carrie’s shoulders)
Definitely not.

CARRIE
Rule three --
(beat)
What the fuck.

And she GRABS Jenny for dear life.
Jenny grabs right back.

They writhe against the kitchenette counter.
Swooning.

Carrie’s hand WHACKS her mug,
it hits the floor, CRASH.

Jenny’s foot CRACKS
against the garbage pail, BANG.

They kiss each other hungrily.
FALL to the floor, THUD.

Roll around on the carpet.
Hands everywhere at once.

Carrie’s head disappears
under Jenny’s skirt.

JENNY
Oh, my-god --

CLOSE ON
Jenny’s face.
In complete ecstasy.

It’s never been this good.
Years of bad sex a
nd faking orgasms melt away.

Something from deep inside
starts rising to the surface.

JENNY
Ahhh --
(rising)
Ahhh --
(gathering steam)
AHHH --
(louder)
AHHH --

And a high-pitched
animal YELP ERUPTS from her mouth.

A wall-shaking, window shattering
PRIMAL SCREAM of complete, utter abandon.

She WAILS and WAILS
like a she-banshee.

And just as quickly, it stops.
Carrie’s head reappears.

JENNY
That was -- incredible.

CARRIE
Your first orgasm?

JENNY
(shy)
Promise you won’t tell anyone?

CARRIE
My lips are sealed.
(beat)
So to speak.

EXT. LAUREL CANYON BLVD. - AT THAT MOMENT
A green, lumbering, old-school HUMMER
makes the trek up the hill.

Followed by Beemers. Porsches.
An Escalade limo.

INT. HUMMER - CONTINUOUS
Dean Martin rocks the subwoofers.
YOU BELONG TO ME, indeed.

Phillie’s behind the wheel.
Cleaning his teeth with a toothpick.

Chinette rides shotgun.
Holds a doggie bag.
Looks out the window. Pensive.

CHINETTE
I really like that place.
It’s a Sizzler,
but it’s in Beverly Hills,
so it’s nicer.

PHILLIE
I figured since you were upset,
we’d do something nice.
Splurge a little.

CHINETTE
You’re the sweetest guy, Phillie.

PHILLIE
You know, once the movie is done,
we’re gonna be fucking rolling in it.
And I’ve already mapped out
the story for the sequel --

He slows, turns,
goes down their driveway.

PHILLIE
Just one scene to go,
and we’ve got lightning in a bottle.

The car pulls into the garage.

INT. PFUGG RESIDENCE - BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS
Phillie stops at the top of the stairs.
Over his shoulder --

PHILLIE
Why don’t you crack open a box of wine,
I’ll bring up the dailies.

CHINETTE (O.C.)
‘Kay, honey --

He smiles.
Starts down the steps, then sees --

The joint is COMPLETELY TRASHED.
Camera SMASHED.

Videotape in RIBBONS,
like toilet paper in a tree.
A complete DISASTER.

PHILLIE
NOOOOOO!

He races down.
Surveys the damage.
Freaks out.

Sees a note taped to
the cracked plasma-screen.
He GRABS it. Reads --

Greetings from 'The Tour De Fuck.'