Fifty Shades of Shade - "The Fifty Shades of Grey Parady" (11 page)

             
He walks over. “You look stunning,” he murmurs (tired of that word yet?), as he kisses me on the cheek. “A dress, stilettos, I approve.”

             
Taking my arm he leads me to a secluded booth. He signals for a waiter and every waiter in the restaurant comes over and bends down so we can walk over them
to our table, just like
in
the movie
“300.”

             
After we are served some wine he starts in:

             
“Are you nervous?”

             
“Yes.”

             
He leans forward. “Me too.”

             
Sebastian Shade, nervous? Pish-posh.

             
“So, how are we going to do this?” I ask.

             
“Impatient as ever.” He smirks at me.

             
“You know these contracts are legally unenforceable.”

             
“I am fully aware, Miss
Stool
.”

             
“When were you going to tell me?”

             
“You think I’d coerce you into doing something you don’t want to do and then have a legal hold over you?”

             
“Well,” I was distracted by his eyes, oh how they smolder. I wind up just blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Yes.”

             
“You don’t think very highly of me
then
.”

             
“You didn’t answer the original question.”

             
“It’s an agreement. You want to do it, then sign. If you do sign, and then decide you want out, there are enough clauses and loopholes to easily accomplish that. Relationships like this are built on trust and honesty and occasionally anal fisting. All the other Submissives I had in the past knew that. So I guess the real question here is…have you eaten today?”

             
“No.”

             
He narrows his eyes. “You must eat. Do you want to eat here or back in my suite? The gladiators are battling again.”

             
“Let’s stay here, in public. Neutral ground.”

             
He smiles sardonically. “You think that would stop me?”

             
“I hope so.”

             
He snaps his fingers. All the waiters go to the nearest levers against the wall and pull them. All the other restaurant patrons fall through trap doors under their seats and disappear, along with all of the waiters except one.

             
“There. Now, we’re in private.”

             
The now lone waiter walks over.

             
“Oysters,” Shade orders. “And some filet of sperm whale for the lady.” He raises a seductive eyebrow at me.

             
“Right away, sir.” The waiter scurries off.

             
“Now,” he says. “About the issues you had with the contract.”

             
“I’m worried you’ll hurt me.”

             
“Hurt you how?”

             
“Physically.”

             
“Do you think I would do that?”

             
“You said you hurt someone before.”

             
“All I did was hang her from the ceiling by her nipples.”

             
I grab my nipples lovingly after hearing this, whispering
to them
that I would never
let that happen.

             
“I know you haven’t done anything like this before,
Chastity
, so we’re going to take it slow. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me. But I know that I have to earn your trust.”

             
He’s so passionate and mesmerizing when he speaks like this. I can’t help wanting to finger myself when he does. But since the waiter’s, like, staring at us I won’t. The food arrives and we begin to eat.

             
I’ve never had an oyster before, so I try cutting the shell with a fork and knife and eating that part first. The sound is unpleasant.

             
“No, Miss
Stool
, like this,” Shade instructs.

             
He holds up the shell to my mouth. “Now, sip it.”

             
I do just that. Tastes way better than the shell probably does.

             
“Would you like more wine?” he asks me.

             
“Water. I have to drive.”

             
“Still, sparkling, or chlorine?”

             
“Sparkling, please.”

             
Shade tells the waiter.

             
“Would you like to go over some of the hard and soft limits?” he then asks me.

             
“Not over dinner.”

             
“Too squeamish?”

             
“Something like that.”

             
“You need to eat more. You haven’t eaten today. Here, have some
more
sperm whale.”

             
“I’ve had enough.”

             
“I’m keeping track of exactly how much you eat. I need you fit and healthy. I want to feel like I’m fucking a Clydesdale.”

             
Um, okay.

             
“And right now, I want to peel that Clydesdale out of her dress.”

             
I feel the pull deep in my belly. Probably where the oyster landed. His words make me clench my newly found sex muscles. But I can’t give in. Not tonight. He’s using sex as a weapon. He’s so good at it. Like Yo-Yo Ma with the cello, or Morgan Freeman with voice-over narration. Nonetheless there’s too much going on in my head and I must resist his erotic mind control. Must…resist…

             
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say.

             
“You want dessert?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“What if I have you for dessert?”

             
I shrug. “Then you’d be missing out on the crème brulee.”

             
“I mean sexually.”

             
“Oh.” He’s so confounding.

             
“If you’re my S
ub, all the doubts that you have, all the worrying you do over if this right or wrong, it doesn’t have to happen. As your Dom, that’s my concern, not yours. You just have to submit to me and do as I say while I whip, flog, cuff, and intrude on you orally. There, now doesn’t that reassure you?”

             
I don’t respond immediately. I pick sperm whale out of my teeth.

             
He continues. “You know when you fell into my office for the interview. You were all ‘no, sir’ and ‘yes, sir’. I thought you were a natural born submissive. But now, I don’t think you have a submissive bone in your body.”

             
He moves toward me. I look and somehow he maintains his exact sitting position even though he’s now totally off the chair.

             
“You may be right,” I murmur.

             
“I want to explore the possibility that you
are
a Submissive, though.” He kisses me. “Spend the night with me.”

             
He sees the reluctance on my face. He licks his
thumb
and picks it off for me.

“Thanks for that….but the answer is no, Sebastian.”

             
He groans. “Are you telling me good-bye?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“I don’t mean for tonight only. I mean for good.”

             
“Sebastian, I have to think about this. I—I don’t know if I want this kind of relationship.”

             
He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against me. He even makes my
brain
moisten up. He kisses my forehead and pulls away.

             
“As you wish, Miss
Stool
. I’ll escort you to the lobby.”

             
My heart clenches. I stand up and walk out with him.

             
As we’re waiting out front for the valet to bring my car I peek over at Shade.

             
“Thank you for dinner,” I murmur.

             
“It’s a pleasure as always, Miss
Stool
.”

             
I peer into him and commit his beautiful face to memory. I take out a sketchpad and start drawing him. He holds his pose while I do this. Why don’t I just buy a camera?

             
Before I could finish, the valet carries my Volkswagen Beetle over.

             
“Is that your car?” Shade asks
, incredulously
.

             
“Yes.”

             
“Will it ever make it to Seattle?”

             
“What’s a Seattle?”

             
He looks over my car, disgusted. “Oh, I think we can do much better than this.”

             
The realization dawns. “You are not buying me a car.”

             
“I already did.”

             
I look behind my car. There’s a brand new black
Lexus
with a giant ribbon on top of it.

             
I shake my head. “Good-bye, Sebastian.”

             
I look at him one more time. I get into my Beetle and drive off. As soon as I get behind the wheel, the tears I’ve been holding back pour out of me. From the car ride through the arrival back home and getting straight into bed, all I think about is us. Can it possibly work? Will I be able to introduce him to family and friends? Will we ever take one of those cute couple pictures where we are coming down together on a rollercoaster?

             
I cry into my pillow that night.
I just want a rollercoaster picture.

             
I don’t see or even speak to Sebastian until graduation. Whatever that is.

             
Ah
, so this is graduation. I get it now. The chancellor is kicking off the proceedings with a speech to the student body and their guests. I watch Sebastian scanning the hall from the stage. Sitting next to me is my stepdad dad Rick, there to be by my side while I graduate. He’s passed out drunk from bourbon in his chair. Rick is such a pillar of support.

             
I hear two girls whispering to each other in the row in front of me.

             
“He’s hot. Who is he?”

             
“Sebastian Shade, I think.”

             
“Is he single?”

             
I chime in. “I don’t think so.”

             
Both girls turn around and look at me with surprise. “Oh?”

             
“Yeah. I think he’s gay. For men.”

             
They turn back around and giggle.

             
The chancellor finishes his speech. The crowd then erupts when he introduces Miss Melissa McCallahan. Melissa takes the podium and tosses back her lovely hair. She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people watching her. She’s composed and funny, starting off with a joke about a priest, a rabbi, and Napolean getting raped by Satan. It gets a big, polite laugh. She continues with her speech. It’s entitled, “What’s Next After College?” An odd choice for a graduation speech, but, hey, I trust her.

             
Melissa concludes her speech with a flourish, and spontaneously everyone stands applauding and cheering: couples turn and kiss each other in celebration, confetti falls from the ceiling, and champagne bottles start popping. After that, a row of Can Can dancers prance on stage as Melissa wa
lks to her seat. The revelry eventually
stops
and the rest of the graduation continues on.