Bond moved to the edge of the bed. He took her hand and looked down into her eyes. God, he thought. I hope it’s all right. I hope this crazy plan will work. Is this wonderful girl a cheat? Is she true? Is she real? The eyes told him nothing except that the girl was happy, and that she wanted him to love her, and that she was surprised at what was happening to her. Tatiana’s other hand came up and round his neck and pulled him fiercely down to her. At first, the mouth trembled under his and then, as passion took her, the mouth yielded into a kiss without end.
Bond lifted his legs on to the bed. While his mouth went on kissing her, his hand went to her left breast and held it, feeling the peak hard with desire under his fingers. His hand strayed on down across her flat stomach. Her legs shifted languidly. She moaned softly and her mouth slid away from his. Below the closed eyes, the long lashes quivered like humming birds’ wings.
Bond reached up and took the edge of the sheet and pulled it right down and threw it off the end of the huge bed. She was wearing nothing but the black ribbon round her neck and black silk stockings rolled above her knees. Her arms groped up for him.
Above them, and unknown to both of them, behind the gold-framed false mirror on the wall over the bed, the two photographers from SMERSH sat close together in the cramped cabinet de voyeur, as, before them, so many friends of the proprietor had sat on a honeymoon night in the stateroom of the Kristal Palas.
And the view-finders gazed coldly down on the passionate arabesques the two bodies formed and broke and formed again, and the clockwork mechanism of the cine-cameras whirred softly on and on as the breath rasped out of the open mouths of the two men and the sweat of excitement trickled down their bulging faces into their cheap collars.
Barbie’s longtime boyfriend is Gay? Some of her fans seem to think so.
The duo began dating in 1961. Obsessed with fashion, the two have had difficulty holding down jobs to pay for their extravagant life styles. Both have upwards of 50 different jobs in their resumes.
Over the years, Ken has adopted a number of different looks and hairstyles. But one thing is constant - he likes to show off his abs.
While there have been rumors that Ken has been unable to satisfy Barbie, the release of “Magic Earring Ken” in 1993 seemed to reveal the reason. Ken was dressed for a night at a WEHO gay disco - wearing a see-thru shirt, exposing his six-pack; a lavender open vest; and frosted blond hair. And most suspicious of all, his necklace looked like a “cock ring” on a chain.
A few years later, Ken announced he had become a “Sugar Daddy”, suitably attired for an elegant afternoon on Palm Beach. Although he said the title was a result of him buying a miniature pet dog named Sugar, many suspect there is a Sugar Baby out there some where.
Ken also has several gay friends, including out lesbian Pussy Galore; closeted actor Rock Hudson, and astronaut Sally Ride.
Oh, James Bond will return. The end credits of each of his films promise, nay threaten it. Rather, the revelation that newly indicted longtime Donald Trump associate Paul Manafort’s password of choice across several platforms is “Bond007” should serve as a termination warrant more binding on all men who care about style than anything SMERSH, SPECTRE or indeed Woody Allen’s Dr. Noah ever issued.
Bond isn’t guilty, but certainly irrevocably tainted by association with the man who spent $849,000 of possibly laundered funds at a New York men’s clothing store (and an additional $500,000 or so at a clothing store of unidentified gender in Beverly Hills) who still doesn’t look good, except in, as fashion critic Robin Givhan pointed out, a sort of dated 1980s glitziness. The same sort of glitziness that animates the style of Donald Trump, whose campaign Manafort co-chaired, taking credit among other things for the selection of man who cannot trust himself alone with women Mike Pence as Trump’s vice president. We appear to be in an age where American psychos or Bond villains, Max Zorins if you will, think they are Bonds. Each age gets its Bond, not necessarily the one it deserves. Poor Timothy Dalton, my favorite Bond after Daliah Lavi, was dealt a bum hand playing Bond in a period that didn’t know what to do with him. (Why Dalton? Connery looks too much like my Dad.) Since Dalton, the Bond films have been about first acknowledging that Bond is a cliché, then resituating his anachronism. Like Manafort, however, Daniel Craig’s recent Bond films and his wretchedly ill-fitting Tom Ford suits show that all the money in the world can’t necessarily buy elegance.
Manafort’s password precipitates many ironies. The man using the most famous secret agent as his password is charged with failing to register as a foreign agent for a power (the former government of Ukraine) allied with Bond’s most infamous state enemy. Like Bond’s return to basics (a male M; gadgets reined in from invisible cars to a Home Alone-style DIY showdown in Skyfall), Russia too has come full circle from Cold War adversary to détente fencing partner to corrupt ally to hostile entity better poised than ever to destabilize the United States. Perhaps his terrible, constricted fits are aa similar return to source, an homage to Bond’s creator Ian Fleming, whose real-life sadomasochism is well documented.
It gives me little joy to write this. My Bond bore credentials are embarrassingly extensive. But Manafort’s Bond self-identification recalls yet another early Bond theme, the worry expressed by some critics that the very first (shut up, fellow bores) Bond film, Dr. No, with its scene of 007 shooting an enemy in the back half a dozen times, portended “a fascist cinema uncorrupted by moral scruples.” Today’s portents are of a bigoted, ultranationalistic executive uncorrupted by moral scruples and unchecked by the rule of law, installed and supported by men like Manafort, those he lobbied for, and a handful of billionaires who believe their ends justify any means.
Bond was fun for a while, but as he recalls his “first expensive tailor” saying, we can do better now. Find inspirations elsewhere in heroes more aware of their ridiculousness, like Steed, or of their crassness, like the Kingsman crew, or simply in those who strive to do right, like Patrick McGoohan’s John Drake, or the tailor spy Elim Garak. Or perhaps leave the spy genre altogether and pick alternatives; I’ve written aboutenoughofthem to fill a Zorin blimp if you need to start somewhere. We can find better style inspirations than those picked by these trite, terrible, tacky men.
and now for some high quality colour pictures of the actual fight in the movie. They must have filmed several versions of this fight as there are so many colour pictures.
Click the source for more photos (some very rare) of this classic catfight.
but he was surprised to find that all this nest-building gave him a curious pleasure, a feeling that he had at last come to rest and that life would now be fuller, have more meaning, for having someone to share it with. togetherness! what a curiously valid cliche it was!
