Rod Steele: I'd like a vodka martini, shaken not stirred, with a touch of lemon and one green olive on a wooden toothpick, preferably imported from somewhere in the Orient.
[to an officious minion code-named "P"]
Rod Steele: Nothing better than having a good P.
Prince Dean: [the Prince is having sex with a hooker, actually one of Tangerina's servants] I'm almost there...
Areola: [He moans and she rides him some more, before climbing off] Not yet.
Prince Dean: Ooooohhhh... that's great... you're the best... the best...
[At this point, Areola lays down next to him, smiling, while the Prince keeps on moaning and writhing, his groin off-screen]
Prince Dean: Oh ja...
Areola: Thanks Prince, but I can't take all the credit.
Prince Dean: If you're there, then who...
Areola: You mean "what".
Prince Dean: [He looks down at his crotch] What the fuck?
[the camera pans to reveal a long machine on his penis, which he sits up and grabs]
Prince Dean: Oh my God! Oh...
Areola: You've heard of the tax collector. Well, meet the sperm collector.
Prince Dean: [He tries to pull it off as it continues pleasuring him] Get it off me! Get it off! Ohhhh!
Areola: Why? Doesn't it feel good?
Prince Dean: Oh ja! Too good!
[He falls backwards onto the bed in pleasure]
Prince Dean: Oh! Oh my God!
[He thrusts his hips slightly in pleasure as he moans from the sperm collector pleasuring him]
Prince Dean: I can't hold back!
Areola: That's the whole idea.
Prince Dean: [He thrusts his hips high as he orgasms. He is noticeably struggling to talk through his powerful orgasm] It's... it's not stopping!
Areola: And neither are you, right?
[She laughs evilly as the Prince continues to orgasm uncontrollably]