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By Kisna Banks


The fruits of desire

It was a hot and humid day.  The town was almost empty but it was charming.  Bond was walking for a couple of minutes.  He was dressed in his light khaki pants and tan polo shirt, and hiking boots.

He has forgotten how the southern climate was often unpleasant during the summer town.  He was on an assignment to retrieve a CD-ROM Disk that contained some information about terrorist bomb plans.  He couldn’t figure out why the informant wanted to meet him in this town.  There was a gas station with only one gas pump, a country store, with a fruit stand filled with peaches and melons.  Bond was very hungry and thirsty.  He had to skip breakfast because this was a last minute thing.  He walked over to the fruit vendor.  The vendor was a short old man.  His complexion was darkened by the sun and his eyes was grayish black possibly form glaucoma, Bond figured.  The man greeted bond.  “How ya doing? De’s a beauty aren’t de.”  The man said as he pointed to the melons.  His accent was delightful to Bond.  It was a mixture of a heavy southern draw and Caribbean.  He reminded Bond of Quarrel, his friend killed many years ago by the evil dr. No.

“Yes they look very delicious.  How much are they?” Bond asked.

“Three dollars.”  The man answered with a big grin.

Bond took out his wallet and gave him three dollars. 

“I think I’ll have this small one”

“Good choice sir.  Thank ya.”

Suddenly a woman dressed in a beige tank top and black shorts walked up to the fruit vendor.  He smiled at her as if she was one of his regular customers.

“Hey, Mr. Polk.  How are ya? I think I take a few of your ripe peaches today.”

She had a smooth southern accent. It sounded like she was singing when she was talking.  Her hair was wavy which complemented her brown eyes, and café au lait complexion.  She had high cheekbones and full lips.  She was one of the most voluptuous women Bond encountered.  He couldn’t help but stare at her.  Their eyes finally met.

“You gotch yaself a good fruit there. Mr. Bond.”

“You know my name!” Bond was confused

“My name is Ira Beaureguard”

“Your French Creole?”

“Actually I’m American.  My mother was half African Cuban and French. My father was Creole and Irish.  Hence Beaureguard.  I was born here.   Well I don’t want to tell you my life story but my car is over there.  Sorry we had to meet like this.”

Her blouse was slightly exposing her bosoms.

“I’m not sorry.” 


The long ride

Bond and Ira were in a red Pontiac sun fire convertible.  She was driving at 65 mph on the smooth country road.  She was striking and exotic, the two things that Bond loved about a woman.

“I was sent here to deliver you a message from the CIA.  I figured you probably arrive at Mr. Polk fruit vendor.  He’s very nice old man.  I see you bought one of his melons.”  She looked over in bond’s direction.

“Yes, I was very hungry.”

It was 5:30pm.  Ira decided to pull over by some palmetto trees.

“I’ll be right back.”

He was curious to what she was doing.  She took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car.  Bond was wondering what she was doing.  She opens the trunk and pulled out an old machete.  Bond was alarm of what she was going to do with it.  She took out the melon that Bond bought and chopped it in half.

“Here you go.  Don’t worry I don’t use a machete as a deadly weapon.”  She smiled

Bond grabbed a piece and ate it.  It was warm, sweet, and juicy. It quenched his hunger and thirst.

“Like a woman”

“Pardon me” She inquired.  She didn’t catch on to what Bond said

Bond clear his throat and changed the subject.

“So what is the message?” bond asked as he was wiping his chin with his handkerchief.

“Well the informant is name Mr. Somersome.  He’s kind of short and has weasel-like eyes.   He worked for an organization.   He decided to come clean when there was a terrorist act, which was an explosion at the La placer del decanso hotel in Barbados.  You probably already know this by now Mr. Bond.”

“Quite so, but why did he decide to come clean”

“His wife was killed in that explosion.  The organization didn’t have any knowledge of her being there.  She was visiting some friends.  However lodging at the same hotel was the organization enemy ambassador Kane.   I guess after that he couldn’t live with the guilt.  He made it his point to hire a bodyguard.  He didn’t notify us of the identification of the bodyguard but we do have knowledge that he has one.  He doesn’t trust the government protection.”
Bond has heard of the terrorist act of Puerto Rico.  However 009 was involved in that mission.

“Are you carrying anything James?”

Bond pulled out his Walther P99. 

“Good.  Here are a few things that your agency sent to ours from ah Q branch. 

She handed him a white gift bag.  Bond took it.  He looked inside.

“Ah good old Q”

In the bag were two homing devices, small enough to fit in his shoe.  He gave one to Ira and explained to her what it was.  

“Just in case I’m in trouble, this homing signal will go off.  The small screen here will tell you where I am.”

“Right” She was amazed and thought it was a neat little gadget.  She put the device in a compartment in her purse. 

“Well I think this is where I leave you, Mr. Bond.  Somersome should arrribe any minute now.  It has been a pleasure.”  Her accent was real smooth.

“Likewise, will I ever see you again Ira?  Bond looked at her engagingly.  She leaned closer to him and kissed him on the cheek.  She took her finger and lightly but teasingly traced his scar on his right cheek.


She suddenly jumped in the car and started it.  The melon rolled off the car and almost landed on bond’s feet.   She drove the vehicle in reverse like a racecar Driver and sped off giving him a wave goodbye.

“Or Maybe Not.” Bond muttered to himself but he had this feeling that they would get to know each other real soon.

Bond was standing in the middle of nowhere.  He was wondering when this informant is going to show up.  A big swoosh came from the sky it was a red crop-dusting plane.

“I feel like bloody Cary Grant!” Bond muttered to himself.  The plane made a landing thirty feet away from him.  The pilot jumped out the plane. The copilot followed behind but there was a brief case handcuffed to his left hand.  The co pilot started to speak.

“Mr. Bond, I’m the man you’re waiting for.  My name is Somersome.  That’s all you need to know.  This is my bodyguard Mr. Price.”

Bond gave him a professional nod.  He looked at the bodyguard.  He was about 6”3, strawberry blond and had pale blue eyes.  Something about this man bothered Bond.    Somersome was a complete opposite.  A short man probably 5”4 and had weasel like eyes as Ira described.

“Well Mr. Bond, I hope this information helps for my sake anyway.”

“Don’t worry Somersome.  You will be protected.”

“Already have protect-“

Suddenly, Somersome fell down on the ground.  A knife was jutting out from his back.  Price killed him.  He was probably working under orders Bond thought.  He started to run after him.  But he was too fast and quickly vanished.  Bond lost sight of him.  He felt a small prick on his neck.  He started to feel faint and then he collapsed. 

                Bond had awakened in a dark and dingy room.  He was tied up, and his P99 was on the floor completely dismantled. 

“Wake up sleeping beauty.”

                The voice was hauntingly familiar.  ‘It couldn’t be’ Bond thought. ‘I thought I killed him.’ Bond gasped.  He began to gain his consciousness, but his shoulders were aching.

“Well you know what they say Mr. Bond like father like son.”

It was Price.  He stepped out of darkness.


“How about referring me to my real name Augustus Grant.”


The painful season

Bond finally knew why he had that premonition of contempt for the Body Guard.  He felt the same way towards Red Grant.

“Of course, Mr. Bond.  You’re in pain. But that what happens when have a large incision on your shoulder.”

Bond saw the cut it was deep and bloody.  However, he knew that he needed medical assistance right away.

“You know I wanted to torture you before I kill you.  I think the disk will be in great use to me.”

“How can you use it when you will die?” Bond snapped.

“Easy Mr. Bond, I just frame it on you. In other words, I’m utilizing the same plan that my father carried, before you ruthlessly kill him.”

Grant nonchalantly waked over to an old wooden chest.  He took out a container filled with salt.

“Well you know Mr. Bond Salt is use as a enhancer of taste and an enhancer of pain.

He pore a hand full in his palm and abruptly apply to Bond’s womb.  It was excruciating. It felt like acid was tearing his muscle.  Bond screamed with agony.

“It burns doesn’t it Mr. Bond.  But I would be even more satisfy if I electrocuted you first.”

“What a Pity” Bond said with exhaust. Tell me how do you know so much about me.”

“Well simple fate really.  My father met my mother a long time ago.  After he escaped from prison.”

“It seems that bad taste runs in the family.” Bond quipped.

Grant went over and punched him.

“No, My father did her a favor. He murdered her abusive guardian.  She confided in him.  He left when I was two.”  He started to fidget with the disk.

“Of course I had a rough life until I encountered SPECTRE”

“Ah SPECTRE” It all added up.  Somersome was working for Spectre.  August Grant was secretly hired not only as Somersome Body Guard but secretly hired as an assassin by the organization.

“Yes Mr. Bond. The trained me to kill and only kill.  But you taught me to take Revenge.”

“I never taught you a Bloody thing.”  Bond was now angry.  His action was a duty.  However, since he killed his Red Grant.  It was retaliation against Red Grant for the death of Kerim Bay.

“Sure, Mr. Bond killed my father, for killing your weak friend Mr. Bay.  And now you’re going to die for it.”

Bond was hesitating.  He didn’t know what do.  He barely reached his watch, which had a silent automatic blade.  He started to use it on his watch and burn through ropes carefully without burning his hand.  Grant started to come towards Bond to add more salt to his womb.  Suddenly, a person jumped through the roof.  Grant fell on his knees.  It was Ira! She probably followed the homing signal.  Bond managed to set himself free.

“James here!”  She shouted.  She threw him a gun, a Walther.  However, instead of a P99 it was a PPK.

“Sorry that was the best I can do!” Bond nodded.  It was like old times.  Grant stood up.  His shoulder was dislocated from the crash.  He lecherously smiled at Bond.  He swiftly pulled out a gun and shot Ira in the shoulder.  She collapsed.

“No!” Bond shouted.  Without a thought, he shot Grant between the eyes.  His body fell slowly to the floor.

Bond ran over to Ira.  He cradled and embraced her.

“Are you alright?’

“Yes it’s just a flesh womb. Is he-?

“Dead yes, Like Father, like son.’

Bond took the disk form Grant’s possession.  Bond and Ira left the cabin.  They drove off in the Pontiac convertible and went to the nearest hospital.


Silhouette of the Sea

Months later, Bond returned from the states.  Bond went to Greece to attend a party given by one of the foreign diplomats.  The atmosphere was too loud for him.  So he took a glass and a bottle of Smirnoff with him.  He was walking comely and decided to admire the moonlight over the Mediterranean.  He was reminiscing about the mission and Ira.  It was too bad that he wasn’t really well aquatinted with her.  He glanced over the walkway he took notice of a woman figure.  From behind, it resembled Ira.  Bond was curious.  He started to follow the woman.  A group of people ran out in front of him.  When they went toward the other way.  The woman vanished.  Bond was disappointed.  But he felt someone eyes observing him.  He coolly turned around.  It was Ira dressed in a navy blue evening gown with a long slit.  Her hair was straightened and long.  She had this incredible figure.

“Miss me?” She pleasantly ask

“Sure, But I mostly miss this.” Bond kissed her softly on the lips.  The night was long and calm.  The breeze from the Mediterranean was delightful.

“I guess I’ll get to know you after all.”


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