The pounding Jamaican sun loomed over James Bond, just obstructed enough by the shade of the palm tree under which he rested to give him a moment's reprieve, his sweaty, tanned frame resting against the torso of his lover Charlotte. James was fond of women of all kinds and shapes, as they were equally fond of him, and yet Charlotte struck a special chord in his heart: perhaps it was her full, busty figure, her strong, dark legs, thighs conditioned to a strength and power that rivaled his own, or her short, curly black hair, which seemed to be asking to be stroked and pulled, or her dark green eyes which radiated with the hunger of an animal. Her eyes were weapons, and she wasn't afraid to use them.
Like James, she was by this point barefoot, the soles of her feet calloused and pockmarked by the elements. The thin t-shirt which barely covered her back was torn and soiled, her tight stomach exposed as well as the contour of a browned, supple breast. She turned to James, breathing heavily.
"I think we've lost them," she whispered breathlessly.
James nodded, a look of apprehension affixed to his brow. He knew better than to under-estimate Radd. 008 had met his demise at the hands, apparently the bare hands, of Radd. It was an untimely death, one unbecoming of man that he did not wish to think about. 008 had been a fierce fighter, the equal of James in hand-to-hand combat.
"We must be cautious," he whispered. "Radd's men are everywhere. Our mission is simple: to take the stone from his neck, by any means necessary. That stone is the only way to control the aqueduct. As long as he exerts control over it, there is no telling how far he could go. People are dying, Charlotte, and they have no choice but to accept his rule."
A silence fell over them. They had been running from Radd's men for days, and they were exhausted. Still, they dared not sleep. She lifted one of her legs and rested it in his lap, her taut, sweaty calf, tanned and muscled, resting on his thigh. She looked into his eyes and smiled. It had been days since they had made love. He ran his finger along her leg, feeling her moist, warm skin. The sensation of her warm flesh against his own made him instantly hard.
"Come here," he said.
She pivoted quickly, grabbing James's hips and positioning herself on top of him. In a moment, she had taken him easily inside her, and his world was dissolving into the moist heat of the afternoon.
James awoke in a panic, aware of a tight burning sensation around his ankles and wrists, his body tied erect to a crude pole which felt like wood. He blinked twice, taking in the early evening sun which bathed the land in a warm, feverish glow. He was naked; even the tattered, cloth bracelet around his ankle had been removed. He turned to his left, seeing his beloved Charlotte in a similar condition. The tattered t-shirt was gone, and her heavy breasts hung there ripely, her smooth legs and strong arms also tied to a wooden pole. She was conscious and quickly caught James's gaze in a glance that conveyed both relief and panic. James blinked again, the waning sun angled in his eyes, and took in the situation. They were in the middle of a brown field, tall green palm trees dotting the perimeter of an earthy space with only patches of grass. About thirty meters from where they were tied up stood a large brown tent, about the size of a small trailer, held up with tall, wooden poles.
James quickly spotted movement. Outside the tent were three black men and one woman sitting on the dirt floor, their skin smooth and dark, their muscles taut and firm. They appeared to be naked as well, though from this distance he couldn't see. The woman spotted him and smiled, her teeth bright and ivory. She got up, turned, and walked towards the tent, her shiny buttocks glinting in the sun. Yes, it appeared she was naked.
A long pause followed. James felt a tension that hung in the steamy, moist heat of the jungle. A fly had landed on his thigh, and he was unable to swat it. Suddenly, he saw Charlotte fixate her attention on the tent, her gaze filled with a palpable urgency and alertness. James turned as well: one man was holding a patch of the tent open; the other had emerged into the open. Radd was there. James first noticed the man's gait: he had the erect bearing of a King, and walked slowly, his neck held upward, every taut muscle of his dark, chiseled body seeming to flex like that of a tiger. His hair was cropped short, and his legs and arms rippled with power. He came closer, and his proportions became clear: James fathomed he must have been close to seven feet tall, probably 240 pounds of thick muscle and bone, his pectorals popping out of his chest. His entire body was wet, as if he had just been bathing, and the water dripped slowly off his body, from his long hands, the back of his neck, and, as James quickly noticed, the long, thick, member which hung menacingly between his legs.
"Welcome to my kingdom," Radd bellowed, smiling as he stood before James and Charlotte. His voice was low and raspy, and it emerged deep from his throat.
"It's not your kingdom, Radd," James replied. "You're nothing but a petty criminal."
"Is that so?" replied Radd, smiling. Around his neck hung the stone, not especially beautiful, a thick, smooth rock with a ridged protrusion near the bottom.
"I know you want this, James. I know what you're here for. I have a proposal. I'm an honest, good man. You're here to steal from me, to kill me if necessary. You're the thief. The stone is mine. And yet, I will make you an offer. It is a tradition of our culture to fight for property. Man to man. No weapons, no protection, no shields. Two men, as nature made us."
Radd's men had walked closer and seemed to be listening intently.
"If you win, I give you the stone. I let the both of you go freely. What do you say, James?" James replied instantly: "And what if you win?"
Radd chuckled, and walked 10 slow steps until he was standing in front of Charlotte, who looked so beautiful and vulnerable tied up. Radd took his hand and placed it gently on Charlotte's chin, curling it into two fingers, which he slowly traced down her neck and in circular fashion over her torso. He stopped at her right breast, drawing a circle around the perimeter of her firm bosom, and then reaching her nipple, rubbing it between his fingers. Charlotte looked at him, not averting her gaze.
