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[clinkeroo]

An annoying note: this is another challenge story. The concept was to write a short piece in which Bond must "Drink 2 Martinis, Beat/Kill 3 Goons, and "Get to know" 1 Lady.




Never Say Leather Again

When Bond had first heard the words "San Fernando Valley" fall from M's lips like turkeys from a helicopter, it was all the agent could do just to avoid rolling his eyes. Now, six months into his mission to infiltrate the American adult film industry, M had lost three men just trying to recall Bond from the field.

James Bond sat in the ten-person Jacuzzi on the back lot of the latest Vapid Film Productions masterpiece where he was filling in yet again as a stunt double, sipping two martinis, one for each hand. The hot tub did not erase the blood of the dead agents on his hands, and the alcohol couldn't erase the memories of their dying screams, but from his current position he really couldn't give a rat's a**.

Bond shared the water with a bevy of enhanced femininity of every race and colour, a virtual sea of silicone and pulchritudinal delight.

"Mr. Hazard," a young man's voice called him back from Valhalla. "Mr. Hazard, they need you in make-up in ten minutes." Bond acknowledged him with a wave, and the young man went away shaking his head, no doubt wondering where adult film stars got their ridiculous names...Mark Hazard indeed.

"I'm afraid that we only have ten more minutes, ladies," he told the assembled women to a chorus of disappointed groans. "Now, let us turn up the heat and make some bubbles."

A towel, a shot of Benzedrine, and two blue pills later Bond reported to the shoot accompanied by the young, bespectacled gopher that had delivered his call a few moments earlier.

"What is the name of this one?" he asked the boy smirking as he removed his scant robe. "War and Piece?"

The boy held up a script for him, the title blazed across the cover in 24 point type: Jail House Reach Around.

Bond looked up to see that there was not a single woman on the set, only three muscular male actors all oiled up and wearing the same outfit as himself...that being nothing.

James Bond grabbed the script from the boy and rifled quickly to the current scene.

"Wait, there must be a mistake, this says I have to beat three goons!" he exclaimed as the three men before him began to smile in expectation.

Five thousand four hundred and fifty-four miles away, a grey old man in a grey old building was smiling as well. It had taken several calls and several old markers called in, but Her Majesty always got Her man in the end.