Son of Toilet Gator – Chapter 4

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The impromptu lovers collapsed side-by-side, each occupying one seat. They breathed heavily, laughed, then fixed their clothing. Zippers were zipped. Buttons were buttoned. Hair was primped. Make-up was reapplied.
“I despise you, Dirk Smegma.”
“If I had a nickel for every time…”
“Shut up, you insufferable swine.”
Smegma rested his hand on the lady’s knee. “Darling, come now. Can you honestly say I made you do something you didn’t want to do?”
The blonde blushed. “No…but I was fully briefed beforehand on your…skill set. The women you led to their doom can’t say the same. In fact, they can’t say anything because…”
“…they’re dead. Way to beat a dead horse, my dear.”
Bonanza ran a brush through her locks, then grabbed her briefcase. She opened it and pulled out several documents. “Let’s discuss the new protocol.”
Smegma’s elated demeanor disappeared. “The what?”
“A stringent, copious, multi-step process guaranteed to ensure that the next time you seduce a villain’s moll, she’ll be made fully aware of what she’s getting into and will be making an informed decision.”
The lawyer dropped a heavy stack of paper in the agent’s lap.
“What in the…”
“That’s a 78-page legal memorandum,” Bonanza said.
“Because nothing revs the female engine like a 78-page legal memorandum,” Smegma replied.
“This document fully explains your status as a CIA operative, as well as your intention to obtain vital information that is crucial to foiling a mastermind’s ingenious plot to engulf the world in carnage and mayhem.”
“Darling,” Smegma said. “I fear you don’t quite grasp the meaning of the word, ‘undercover.’”
“And you won’t be getting under the covers unless you get the woman you are trying to charm to pants off of to sign these forms in triplicate.”
Smegma accepted another stack of paper. “And what are these?”
“Consent forms,” Bonanza said. “Indicating in no uncertain terms that the villain’s moll in question is being asked to turn over information that will be used to eradicate her betrothed’s criminal organization and that her life will be in danger if she does so.”
“Well,” Smegma said. “Now you’re just taking all the mystery out of it.”
“Further,” Bonanza said. “The woman will be made aware that she may refuse any and all sexual acts at any time and that if she wishes to engage in any sexual acts she will be doing so not under duress but from her own personal choice as a strong, independent woman.”
Smegma raised an eyebrow. “Because if it’s one thing a strong, independent woman needs, it’s a binding legal contract telling her she doesn’t need to let Mr. Winky bounce around inside her hoohah.”
Bonanza dumped another stack of legal work on the spy’s lap. “Your toxic masculinity is abhorrent, Agent Smegma. As a strong, independent woman, I choose to ignore it and carry on. Now then, the disclosure section…”
“The what?”
“You must make a number of disclosures,” Bonanza said. “You must inform the woman if you have any ties to any industry she currently works in, or if you intend to have any ties to any industry she may choose to enter into in the future.”
Smegma shook his head. “Darling, I’m not sure being a villain’s moll counts as an official occupation but no worries, I have no intention of becoming one.”
“To clarify,” Bonanza said. “You must use the questions listed to interview the woman, find out what jobs she has held in the past, determine what professions she has a future interest in, and if you have any sway in these professions, then you must bow out.”
“Can you dumb this down for me, dear?”
Bonanza sighed. “If the woman has ever entertained the notion of becoming a spy in the future, then you must refrain from sexual congress because otherwise she might, on some subconscious level, be submitting to you, not out of her own free will but because of a latent, underlying fear that one day you might use your contacts in the clandestine world to prevent her from getting a job unless she allows you to…”
“Load my sausage into the tuna boat?”
“Be serious,” Bonanza said.
“It’s difficult to take any of this seriously,” Smegma said. “You really think a woman who is in the mood will want to stop to read any of this?”
“That’s not the agency’s problem,” Bonanza replied.
“It will be when the world explodes because I wasn’t able to get the intel I required because I was too busy…” Smegma examined one of the documents. “Where the hell would I even find a notary in the field?”
“Again,” Bonanza said. “Your problem.”
Smegma flipped through a few pages. “She has to give her consent before three impartial witnesses?”
“Don’t forget the videotaped expression of consent,” Bonanza said. “That’s key.”
The agent gasped as he read on. “I have to hook her up to a lie detector?!”
“You never know,” Smegma said. “When she says yes on the outside, she might be saying no on the inside.”
“Something that strong, independent women do?” Smegma asked.
“All the time,” Bonanza said. “Moving on, you’ll need to consult with Madame Olga.”
“Madame who?”
Bonanza pulled a tablet computer out of her briefcase. She punched a few buttons and within seconds, she was videoconferencing with an old gypsy woman with a scarf on her head who was gazing into a glowing crystal ball.
“This is a joke,” Smegma said. “Isn’t it?”
“Ohhhh,” the old woman said in a Romanian accent. “The spirit realm is nothing to joke about. Feast your eyes onto the wonders of my crystal ball as the beings who exist on a higher plane prognosticate your fortune.”
Smegma stared at Bonanza. “Explain.”
“’Yes’ isn’t good enough anymore,” Bonanza said.
“It isn’t?” Smegma asked.
“Not at all,” Bonanza replied. “Suppose you were to get a villain’s moll to read and sign all of the forms I have provided and still agree to sexual intercourse.”
“That will never happen but I’ll concede so we can move this along,” Smegma said.
“Consent provided can’t just be for today,” Bonanza said. “It must be for all time.”
“You’ve lost me,” Smegma said.
“Just because a woman agrees to have sex with you today doesn’t mean she won’t regret the decision later on in life,” Bonanza said.
“Are you kidding?”
“Not at all,” Bonanza said. “At any point in the future, even if it is as far away as fifty years or more, if a woman you had sex with presently regrets the decision at some point into perpetuity, then you have retroactively raped her.”
Smegma looked down at his crotch. “You’ll be the death of me in this strange, new world. I’d cut you off and feed you to a hungry tiger if I didn’t love you so much.”
“Madame Olga has consulted with the CIA on many cases,” Bonanza said. “She’s helped us locate missing persons, dead bodies, lost weapons of mass destruction. Her psychic powers are unparalleled.”
The agent looked at the tablet. “Madame Olga, will Attorney Bonanza always be glad I slipped it to her?”
The old woman swirled her hands over her crystal ball. A bizarre wind blew her long, gray hair to and fro. The ball glew brighter and brighter. “Yes!” the old woman said. “Yes, the spirits speak to me in a single, unified voice…they say… they say….”
Bonanza and Smegma waited breathlessly for the answer. “What do they say?” the pair asked in unison.
The ball dimmed. The old woman’s hair fell down over her shoulders. She shrugged her shoulders. “Meh. No worries until 2060.”
Smegma breathed a sigh of relief. “Whew. Thank God. Wait! What happens after 2060?”
The old woman cackled. “Let’s just say you’ll need a good lawyer in 2061! Hee, hee, hee!”
Poof! The fortune teller disappeared amidst a cloud of smoke. Bonanza shut the tablet off.
“Well,” Smegma said. “At least we’ll both be alive in 40 years,” Smegma said.
Bonanza averted her eyes and looked away.
“What?” Smegma asked.
“I…I can’t believe it.”
“What?”
The attorney slapped the spy across the face, leaving a firm red mark on his cheek.
“Ow!” Smegma said as he rubbed the mark. “What was that for!”
Bonanza broke out into tears. “Retroactive rapist!”
Smegma was aghast. “But…I….didn’t…no…you don’t really believe…I would never!”
The lady stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I suppose it’s fine for the next four decades but after that, oh…I don’t want to look at you right now.”
Bonanza stormed down the aisle.
“Where are you going?” Smegma asked.
“Anywhere you aren’t!”

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