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It was bound to happen eventually.

He was barefoot. He walked around investigating the stiffed people and they looked like wax figures from a wax museum. He shook his head and fancied pulling off the bulging wallet of the director from his pants pocket. He found some 300 dollars and smaller bills and a picture of a lovely woman. "Hey I could earn some money here," he grinned but returned the wallet into the director's back pocket. One guy was seated, eyes squinting out to the sea, well dressed in a safari suit and holding a cigar between his fingers dangling from the armchair. Even the smoke was frozen. He must be 'Cubby' Brocolli the producer. He was tempted to touch one woman whose blouse hinted big breasts underneath but refrained from doing so. Nevertheless he patted her butt, reminding him what an incredible freedom he was having.

Not long after he heard a woman singing a Caribbean folksong. She had just emerged from the sea and was walking the surf in a stunning white bikini and knife belt slung low about her hips. His heart beat faster.

"Holy Cow, she's really Ursula Andress. This is incredible!" Arny exclaimed.

It crossed his mind that the woman is Honeychiles Rider who went with James Bond in his pursuit of Dr. No.

"Are you looking for shells too?" Honey Rider asked upon seeing James.

"No, I'm just looking," James replied.

As she moved closer to him his manhood had thickened and hardened beneath his trousers like never before.

Arnold could not believe that he was actually speaking the dialogue between James Bond and Honey Rider.

"What the hell happened here? Everybody turned like stone effigies except us, James!"

Realizing the change in dialogue, he knew he was on his own now.

"I myself couldn't believe this has happened," he answered shrugging his shoulders.

"Do you think they touched those radioactive rocks in this island?"

"I don't think so, that was only in the script," he answered cleverly.

"James, it's just the two of us here. I'm scared," her beautiful face frowned.

"Don't worry, they'll be up and moving about after two hours like nothing happened."

"You think so?"

"Positively. Otherwise this picture will not be finished."

"Oh God thanks. I'm not alone," she said slipping her arms under James' and pressing her body close to him.

"James, I like your manly scent," she murmured as her nose brushed at the crook of his shoulder and neck.

"I can say that our senses are mutually appreciating each other's body."

"James is that a gun in your pocket or you're just glad to see me?" she said leaning back a little bit and glancing down at him.

"I believe that you're talking about my gun that is licensed not to kill but to thrill. And yes I'm very happy to see you."

"Then what shall we do around here and about that license to thrill weapon of yours, James?" She lifted her face to him; her mouth fractionally opened and eyes glittering with desire. He pressed her close to him and she shoved her hips against him grinding and teasing the hell of out his tumescent.

"With a beautiful woman like you I can certainly think of ideas to kill time."

"Like what?"

"Kissing you for a start."

James kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, brushed his lips on hers, until he's sampling her his French kissing. And she responded with her own style and with as much ardor as he initiated. They felt that rush of excitement in their bodies and before long they were locked in steamy, sensual embrace and torrid kissing with no director to yell cut.

"Oh James, let's get out of our clothes before these people come back to life," she giggled flirtatiously.

"You first."

"Yes, and then I'll help you.

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