007 - No Time To Rip (Patreon)

Apologies for the delay with this one, but very excited to share the May story, which focuses on Daniel Craig as James Bond.

Let me know what you guys think in the comments/chat - should we have a part two? Also, feel free to share some ideas on which character/celebrity you'd love to see next.

It was hard to believe that thirty-six hours ago, James Bond had been emerging from the ocean in a pair of ice blue swimming trunks, soaking up the sun on a Malaysian beach. He’d adjusted the trunks beneath the waves so that his bulge sat just right before he stepped out of the water, knowing that the woman he was trying to seduce would be unable to stop herself from staring at his tanned skin, down to the meaty bulge in his trunks. The seduction had worked like a charm, and he’d gotten exactly the info he needed from her.

Which was how he found himself stood outside a casino in Monaco in the middle of the night.

James glanced at himself in the window of a closed bar. His black tuxedo was tailored to perfection, hugging every muscle, and highlighting his trim waist and broad shoulders. His blond hair was neatly styled, and even in the dim street lights, his pale blue eyes sparkled.

Looking this good was all part and parcel of being a 00, License to Kill. He had to utilise his looks, nearly as much as his brain and his ability to handle a gun.

The information he’d received from the Malaysian widow had been the breakthrough he’d needed. James was on the trail of an International Drug Cartel, and the face of said business was apparently in the middle of an all-night poker game at the casino in Monaco.

There was only one problem . . .

James Bond had been denied access.

Despite doing his best to flirt and sweet talk his way into the casino, he had been categorically told that the casino was closed for a private game, and he was to return tomorrow.

The issue with that, of course, was that Sven Bariska would likely be gone by tomorrow, and James had spent the last five weeks trying to track him down.

It had to be tonight.

After a quick assessment of the front of the building, James was certain that there was no way he could gain access there. The windows were bullet proof, and the door was still being guarded by the same two burly security guards that had already denied him entry.

That meant that he needed to head round the back and see what he could find there.

Not wanting to arouse suspicion, James lit a cigarette and headed across the street, making a show of exhaling his smoke to the two security guards. He walked away from the casino, the sound of his black leather oxford dress shoes clicking loudly on the concrete.

Once he was out of sight of the entrance to the casino, James crossed back over the street and headed back towards the casino, keeping his weight on his toes so that his shoes didn’t give him away.

It was nearly 3am and the street was deserted, so he kept as quiet as possible as he approached the alleyway that ran down the side of the casino.

Safely off of the street, James slid his hand inside his tux jacket to check his gun. He felt it was always better to double check that he was ready for trouble, just in case.

The alleyway was narrow and led around the corner of the casino building. Continuing to keep his footsteps quiet, James headed to the corner, put his back to the wall and peered around it.

James was surprised by the lack of visible cameras, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t there. He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and swiped through to an app that would detect nearby security equipment, a new invention of Q’s that seemed to come in useful more than James cared to admit to the genius.

It appeared that there were no cameras at all in the alley, but there were some above the back doors.

James intended to slip his phone back into his pocket, but in an unusual act of clumsiness, he missed the pocket entirely and the phone dropped to the ground with a bang.

Desperate to not draw attention to himself, James quickly squatted down to the ground, praying that no one had heard him. But as he dropped down, another sound filled the air . . . one which caused him a lot more concern.

The sound had been material ripping.

As a secret agent, James often found himself doing all manner of things in a suit, which was why he had them tailored to perfection using the most flexible of materials. Unfortunately, this tux was not one of them. He’d stopped at a tailor when he landed in Monaco to get the tux, after his last one was covered in blood spatter in Malysia.

The problem with his new tux was the material had no flexibility, and now James found himself down in an alleyway wearing ripped trousers.

The question was . . . how bad was the rip?

James stayed alert, listening out for any sound of approaching footsteps as he ran his fingers along the crotch seam of his tux trousers. The crotch was intact but as he ran his fingers along the rear seam, his fingers connected with bare cheek. There was a rip along the seam that was about four inches long.

And that’s when he remembered . . . he’d gone commando after realising he had no clean underwear.

Nothing to worry about, he thought. The rip shouldn’t be too obvious, and if anyone sees me, they’ll be dying anyway.

With his head back in the game, James stood up, pocketed his phone and checked around the corner. He was expecting to see the back door to the casino, but the door was much further along . . . on the other side of a metal fence.

Cursing under his breath, James approached the metal fence. It was about six foot in height with a thin roll of barbed wire across the top. It wouldn’t be easy to climb over, but it wouldn’t be impossible.

In a move that was quintessentially Bond, James undid the button on his tuxedo jacket and prepared to scale the fence.

There was a small break in the fence that would make a good foothold about halfway up. If he could use that, he could use the momentum to flip over the top without getting caught on the barbed wire. He’d done it plenty of times before. It would be a breeze.

James took a step back from the fence, calmed himself with a couple of deep breaths and then lightly took two quick steps towards the fence before putting his foot in the break and then flipping himself neatly over the top.

It was a move that any Olympic gymnast would be proud of, except for one minor detail.

As James flipped over the top, the back of his tux trousers caught on the barbed wire, and with a hole already in the seam, there was a loud ripping sound as James dropped down on to the other side of the fence.

It took him a second to realise that his trousers were now hanging from the barbed wire with a rip that ran from the waistband down the outside leg.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath.

James glanced down and gulped at the sight before him. Without his trousers, he was putting on quite the show. He was wearing shirt garters to secure his shirt in place, so the black elastic wrapped around his muscular thighs. He also wore sock garters that hugged the tops of his calves. He wore sheer socks and his oxford dress shoes.

And then there was his exposed dick and balls.

James Bond wasn’t against killing people in such an exposed state, but this mission was more than just busting in and killing everyone in sight. He needed information.

Wondering if he could somehow repair his trousers, he tried to yank them free from the barbed wire, but there was an even louder rip and he ended up tumbling backwards on to the concrete with a grunt.

The sound of ripping material and his loud grunt was more than enough to wake the neighbourhood, and James was unsurprised when he heard the sound of two men running in his direction, flashlight beams bouncing along the ground.

Before he could even close his legs, the two men appeared, and both burst out laughing at the sight before them.

“What do we have here? I think the strippers are supposed to have the night off.”

Not wishing to entertain their snide remarks, James went for his gun, but found the holster empty. It was then that he noticed his gun about five feet away at the foot of the fence. Where he’d fallen, his gun must have come loose and bounced away. He’d have to come up with a different plan of action.

“What shall we do with him, Curtis?” the other guard asked.

“I suggest we take him inside and make him tell us what he’s doing here.”

“Yeah, and maybe play with him too.”

“That’s what I meant, you idiot. Who the fuck are you?” the guard asked, turning to James.

James got to his feet and brushed the dust from his jacket. Despite having his cock and garters on show, he stood up proudly and held out his hand to the man who seemed to be in charge.

“The name’s Bond, James Bond.”