Fifty Shades of Gatsby (2 page)

The party
was unbelievable. I had never seen so much alcohol in my entire life. Where did he get access to all of it, I wondered, being that it was illegal. Outside was his yellow Rolls-Royce; a crowd gathered around to marvel at it beauty. Jordan was practically drooling on the hood. The swimming pool was magnificent and there were huge tents with buffets along with an orchestra playing to a dancing crowd.

“I can’t believe this!” I yell
ed to Jordan.

“I know, it
’s amazing, isn’t it? I told you so!”

As time
went by, things got more rowdy and the guests became more and more drunk. Yet, Gatsby had not yet made an appearance.

I wandered around the party before noticing a man standing apart from everyone else, watching the party in silence from the steps. It was Gatsby. I approached him and noticed he was not drinking and seemed rather calm.

“So, Daisy, are you enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it is amazing. I can’t believe that all of this is yours.”

“I worked years to accumulate all of this. I control vast amounts of people in my business. They do so much for me, while under my control. I think of these parties as giving something back.”

I noticed that his speech was very formal and
very elaborate, as if he was trying to sound sophisticated.

“Are you
getting enough for your story? I think a party like this would make quite a good story. Don’t mention the alcohol, though,” he laughed.

“Yes
this would all make a great story, but I would like to be able to ask you some questions about your past. People seem to have conflicting views on your history. How did you accumulate such a fortune? Where do you come from?”

“Another time,” he said and then walked away.

The party became even crazier, as couples were now retreating to private rooms to give into their carnal desires. Some of the guests did not even take the time to move into private quarters. Jordan, for instance, found another girl and was making out with her in the pool. Eventually, the party could not be differentiated from an orgy. I was shocked at the depravity that was possible within human nature. I turned away, disgusted. I waited, very bored, turning down any drunks who came near me, hoping that I would assist them in their quest for debauchery.

A butler approached and handed me a
small note. Gatsby wanted to see me. I became incredibly excited, though I was not sure what he wanted. I went to the bathroom and freshened up, checking my hair and make up, and then went to Gatsby’s private quarters.

“Hello, Daisy,” Gatsby said, staring at me intens
ely.

I gasped inside and approached. I was so worried. What was going to happen?

“So you want to interview me?”

“Um, yes. For a, um, magazine.”

“You are free to relax,. You are in safe and trustworthy company,” he smiled reassuringly. “Come, here is my lounge.”

He led me to
a room filled with leather chairs and burgundy drapes. Greek statues, classic paintings, and gold plates lined the walls. The wealth within this room was more than I have ever had in my entire life. Also, the room was larger than any place I had ever lived.

We sat and drank champagne.
It was oddly calm and quiet in the room, considering what was occurring outside.

“What about the party?”
I asked.

“Oh, I’m not so interested in that,” he said, quietly.
“Parties are parties. They are all the same.”

“
Your house is magnificent. How did you acquire all this wealth?”

“Oh, I have an extensive past. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.
You have been asking around, haven’t you?”

I was embarrassed to answer, but I had
been.

“My parents were wealthy, though they are deceased now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said in a sad attempt to be consoling.

“It’s quite all right.
Quite all right.”

“Where were you raised?”

“San Francisco. And that is all that you are going to get out of me, my fair Daisy.”

“
I wasn’t trying to pry. I was just trying to have a conversation. Sometimes, personal details are a part of a regular conversation,” I said, proud of my rational explanation for my prying.

“I like to keep my personal life to myself, actually,” he said, sipping the champagne and staring at me.
“You understand, don’t you?”

“Well, it’s for my story,” I said meekly.
“It’s just that I thought that when you were going to let me interview me…I mean you…that you would, well, tell me something about yourself.”

He seemed to take pity on me
and shook his head.

“I graduated from Oxford before
getting into jewel and big game hunting.”

“This was recent?”

“Well, no. After that, I fought in the war.”

“As a German spy?” I said, before realizing what I had said.

“Haha. No – I was awarded medals from multiple countries, and that is where that mistake originates.”

“Wow, that is quite incredible,” I said, in shock.
I could only stare and examine him. Was it possible to spot a war hero from a lineup?

He seemed to sense my skepticism.

“Well, maybe it’s true, and maybe it isn’t. You don’t know for sure. They are only stories at this point.”

I didn’t know what to think then.

“Well, I need a story that is true. That is my job. I can’t report false information.”

He sipped from his drink and smiled.

“Why don’t you ask me a question that actually interests you? Not something for your magazine. What do you really want to know?”

I could feel the alcohol working and
I was beginning to loosen up. I was more and more intrigued by him the more I was in his presence. His attire was so well kept and he was incredibly clean. He seemed so perfect, but I thought that had to be an illusion.

“What kind of women do you like?” I asked, before gasping at the forwardness. It must be the alcohol, I thought.

He laughed.

“Well, the women and the type of relationship go hand in hand.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“
Well, I prefer to be dominant in the relationship. To be the master in all situations, including the bedroom.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure of what to say.

“For instance, this party was especially for you. I pulled the strings so that I could you here in my room at this very moment.”

“What do you mean?” I said, blushing.

“I have been doing research on you after Jordan told me what you wanted. I arranged for this particular party to get your attention, so that I could meet you. I am quite taken with your beauty, Daisy. You are incredibly sexy.”

“Thank you,” I said, running my fingers through my hair.

“Did you believe the story I told you about my past?”

“Well, sure,” I said, trying to regain my composure. Things were becoming surreal. “
I have heard many things about you from others that may differ. But I’ll believe your story, if you say that it is true. I trust you.”

“And what if I were to tell you that it was a fabrication. And that I would tell you the actual truth.”

“Well, yeah, I would love that. That would be great for my story.”

“
I want you to know, Daisy.”

“Thanks,” I said, but was curious as to why he was opening up. And why had he lied in the first place?

“I will tell you all that you want to know. But you will have to do something for me.”

“What is that, Mr. Gatsby?”

“Please, call me Jay.”

“Jay,” I said, smiling. Wow, I am a good reporter, I thought. I am getting a huge scoop by barely batting an eye.

“You must become my submissive,” he said, confidently.

My jaw dropped.

“What do you mean?”

“In the bedroom I would like you to be the submissive to my dominant.”

“You want me to sleep with you?”

“Well, that is a simple and crude way of putting it. I want you to do what I tell you to do. I want you to submit to me completely. As I said before, that is what I like in a girl. It will be completely private, of course.”

I thought to myself, and felt like running, actually.
Maybe I could run back home and forget that this night ever happened.

“So you want sex
, is that what you are saying?”

“Yes,” he said. “I admit, it is crass, but that is how I want it. When I am with a woman, I
am very particular. I know that you are attracted to me, and I want to approach it in this way from the beginning so that you know what I expect. I like to be the one in control.”

My mind was filled
with a thousand conflicting thoughts at once.

“It will be quite intense, actually,” he added.
“I imagine you will enjoy it.”

I wondered what he meant by enjoy. If it was all for him, then what would I enjoy?

“My world is so filled with so many great and extravagant things. I have everything I could possibly want. But the more I get, the less enjoyable everything becomes. Food loses its taste when you can have whatever you want whenever you want it. Same with clothes, cars, and women. I have a need to push things to the limit and beyond of ordinary society to be able to find enjoyment.”

“
Are you talking about BDSM?”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to spank you?” I said, almost laughing.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said, pouring another glass.

“I don’t know if I could handle that,” I said, nervously.

“Well, that is understandable. I won’t do more than you can handle.”

“Come back tomorrow before five if you decide you want to go through with this,” he said and showed me the door.

As I left the party, I felt confused as to what I would do. I had a choice, true. But what would I choose to do? I felt I had created this problem by approaching him for my magazine in the first place. Perhaps I was lucky that such a wealthy man had taken an interest in me. But I wasn’t sure what he expected, yet.

---

Between West Egg and New York City lay an empty plain. A large billboard of two, h
uge eyes watched over the valley, like a perverted voyeur touching himself while watching the fornicating socialites live their shameless, libertine lives.

Tom and I
took a train to New York for business, but I knew that we were really going there just to visit Tom’s lover, Myrtle.

“Stay away from that Gatsby fellow. He’s bad news. Trust me. I’ve heard some things. Bad things. You hear me?”

“What are you talking about? It was a party. There were hundreds of people there. Gatsby doesn’t even socialize at his parties.”

“Oh, so you know his habits already, huh? Looking to saddle up with a man with deep pockets. Not a hard, honest working man like myself.”

“I’m writing a story for the magazine you can’t remember the name of, actually. I am just doing my job, if that’s okay with you!”

Of course,
Tom made an excuse to hang out in New York City alone and left me by myself.

I was so furious by the time we returned, that I
decided to immediately go to Jay’s mansion. I knocked on the giant doors and awaited an answer which came soon after.

“Hello,” I said, coyly.

“What took you so long?” Gatsby asked as if annoyed.

“Well, Tom and I went to-”

“Don’t bother me with your excuses,” he said, coldly.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Just kidding,” he said and smiled. “Come in.”

I walked inside and was surprised that it was impossible to tell a party
had raged there the night before. It was completely spotless.

“I thought they might have destroyed your house.”
I said. “The maids have done a fine job.”

“That’s what I pay them for,” he said.
“I tell them to clean, and they clean. Simple as that.”

We went back to his study and sat down
in the same chairs as the night before. Only this time I was sober and able to think straight – so why was I there, I thought. He walked over and handed me a piece of paper.

“This is a contract.”

“For what?”

“It states that you
will only write what I give you permission to write. And it also gives me permission to be your master and that you will submit willingly.”

I read the cont
ract over, thinking half the time of how ludicrous this all was.

“I hereby agree to trust J
ay Gatsby with my body. I hereby submit to him and give him complete control over my body. I agree to follow all of his orders without hesitation. These orders will involve sexual activities. I give him permission to do all of these things of my own free will. The following sexual activities are acceptable to me: intercourse, anal sex, fellatio, flogging, whipping, restraints -”