"This is a custom clip: The Femme Fatale, resting on the bed, runs her fingers down her stockings and along her heels.“Are you a fan of stockings, Mr. Bond?” She talks to James Bond, who is relaxing on the bed off-screen (POV style). “What about heels?”She grins. “I’ve heard you have a thing for heels.” The Femme Fatale swings one of her heels over and dangles it in front of Bond’s face. “Look how glossy, shinny... how delicious it looks.” She twirls it around and around, almost in a mesmerizing way. “You wanna take a lick? Go on don’t be shy. It stays between you and me. Your secret is safe.” She sways her heel in front of him like a dog owner teases their dog with a treat. She wears a smile like she knows something no one else does. “My heel’s not going to lick itself, James.” Her eyes light up when she watches James tongue her heel like an ice cream cone. “There you go, easy though, don’t take the finish off.” She changes the subject. “You know I’ve heard stories about you being a ladies man. And how you’ve been with a lot of women but I never knew you had a heel fetish. When it comes down to it Mr. secret agent is just a heel slut. How interesting.” Bond starts to become disoriented. “Is something wrong?” She asks. “You seem a little woozy, Mr. Bond, why don’t you lie your head back on the pillow.” She guides his head back until he’s staring up at the ceiling. “That’s it. Oh... is something wrong? You seem a little confused. Well, let me fill you in than what’s going on. You just licked my poisoned heels.” She laughs. “You think your the only one with cool gadgets? I have tricks up my sleeve as well. You look concerned now, Mr. Bond. Don’t be. The poison’s just a tranquilizer, it’s not going to harm you. I’m going to do that with my bare hands. The tranquilizer’s just going to stun you.” She slowly moves her hands close to his neck. “Don’t worry your handsome little face though Bond, I’m very skilled. I’ll mindfuck you into submission and we’ll end your miserable existence in no time.” Bond starts to stir as the Femme Fatale ramps up the pressure. “Oh... Oh... you’re trying to fight me. Don’t try to fight me and this will go a lot quicker. Just put your arm down, at your sides... that’s it just keep them at your sides.” She intensifies her grip more. Her breathing gets louder as Bond struggles. “That’s it, just let it happen. Yeah, just let it happen. Shhhh, yeah.” She lets up a bit. “When your ready to give up... which my guess will be soon... just call for the pillow, and I’ll finish you off quickly. I’ll just take you out with it. Do me a favor though, Bond... repeat in your head... a little mantra: game over, she already won. Game over, she already won.” She squeezes him harder, and whispers, “ game over, she won.” She laughs an evil laugh. “There is no escape, Mr. Bond. Funny how deadly things can come in small packages.” She smiles, “” You’re nodding your head, you agree.” She continues with steady pressure. “What’s that? you’re ready for the pillow? Wise decision.” She snags the pillow next to him and hovers it over his head. “I wish I could say the last thing you’re going to see is my pretty face but actually it’s going to be the back of this pillow. Game over, Mr. Bond. I won.” The pillow comes down over his face. Blackness. FADE IN: The femme fatale is standing at the foot of the bed. She picks up a small cloth, then bends over to wipe her heels off, revealing her sexy ass in lingerie. “I’m very thorough, Mr. Bond. Just getting all that saliva DNA off my heels. You could be enjoying a great view right now... if I hadn’t put your lights out.” She gives a devilish laugh. “I’m glad I got to be the assassin who finally took out James Bond. Don’t worry though, James. I’ll keep the details a secret. I won’t tell anyone how you surrendered, begging me to end your life.” She finishes wiping down her heels, then grabs her cell phone. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to call my agency.” She dials a number with her cell phone and clears her throat. “The mark has been terminated. Because, I’m fucking good, don’t sound so surprised. By the time it was over, he gave in and begged me to end him.” The Femme Fatale talks on the phone she starts dressing herself to leave, starting with a skirt that’s been resting close to the bed. “It turns out he had a fetish for high heels. And I used it. And now I’m going to use you. I want a big bonus for this one.” She wiggles her arms into the sleeves of an overcoat. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes to collect. Oh, don’t worry. The maid will discover him soon enough. Ciao.” She turns and faces Bond. “It’s been a real pleasure, Mr. Bond. My advice to you for your next life is to stay away from femme Fatales. We’re the deadliest of them all. Don’t worry about getting up I’ll see myself out.” She snickers as she struts to the door and leaves. "