Fifty Shades of Shade - "The Fifty Shades of Grey Parady" (7 page)

             
“I’m…so sorry.”

             
“It was an interesting evening. One I won’t forget in awhile.”

             
He runs his fingers through his hair. “Breakfast should be here in a few minutes. You’re probably famished. Did you even eat last night?”

Why is he scolding me?

             
“Why are you scolding me?”

             
“Am I?”

             
His question threw me off. Touche, Mr. Shade.

             
“I’m going to hop in the shower, unless you want to first.” He leans over and strokes his finger against my cheek. My medulla goes completely oblongata, and I stop breathing.

             
“Breathe,
Chastity
. Breathe.”

             
He walks away, into the bathroom.

             
I finally breathe, letting out a tiny queef when I do. Glad he didn’t hear that. Why is he so damn attractive? I just want to jump in the shower with him. He’s like a white knight that rides a white horse with the same beautiful face. But he’s so confusing! One minute he turns me away, the next he’s lifting me to safety in a crane. My head is spinning.

             
I jump out of bed to get dressed. A moment later he comes out of the shower in just a flesh-colored towel. Although, the flesh color is dark brown, which makes him look like a multi-racial eunuch. He’s glistening from the shower water and ivory oils made of male elep
hant tusk that he bathes with.
And there I am, looking awkwardly for my jeans.

             
“If you’re looking for your jeans I sent them to the laundry. They had
too much
vomit
and middle-class on them.”

             
“Ah. Okay.”

             
“I sent Cheryl out to the store.” He hands me a shopping bag with expensive new jeans, socks, bra, underwear, and a shirt, all European and high-end.

             
I shut the bag. “Thanks,” I say to Shade. I then hop in the shower.

             
As the water is running over my sensitized body I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want to do to Shade. Also sexual stuff. The water cascades over me and I wish each drop was a tiny, mi
Chastity
ture Sebastian Shade, making their way into my pores and whispering ambiguous, sensuous things into the ears of my blood cells.

             
I see his shaving cream and I grab it.
It smells like him. I begin spraying
the Edge
Pro
Shave Gel foam all over my
wet
body.

             
There’s a knock at the door.

             
“Breakfast is here.”

             
“O-okay.”

             
This stops me from my erotic daydreams. Damn it, now I actually have to see the guy in person that I was fantasizing about. Oh, wait, that’s good.

             
I get out of the shower stall and change into the new clothes from the bag. I flush an item that didn’t fit down the toilet, sending it directly back to Europe. I figured the cash refund will flush back over here by tomorrow.

             
I walk out. The bedroom is empty. I walk into a gigantic living room area of the suite. There’s a giant plasma screen television, huge, top-of-the-line overstuffed luxury sofas and loveseats, an enormous dining room table and two gladiators fighting to the death in the corner, presumably for Shade’s amusement. He grows bored of the gladiators and picks up a newspaper instead. The breakfast he ordered is spread across the table, an array of dishes that would feed an army. He looks up.

             
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered every food ever.”

             
“This is too much.”

             
I begin stuffing my face with pancakes, bacon, eggs, pterodactyl sausage, and strawberries. Shade just smiles at me as he enjoys a spinach and egg white omelet, except instead of spinach it’s paper currency. 

             
“Why did you send me Thomas Hardy and that note?” I ask again.

             
“When I held you in my arms after saving you from the cyclist, I knew you wanted me. I felt it. But, you have to understand,
Chastity
, I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of man. I don’t do romance. My tastes are very…singular. You should steer clear of me. But, yet, something keeps bringing me back to you. I find it…impossible to stay away.”

             
I almost choke on my pancake taco (a new snack I just made up where I fold up a bunch of food inside a pancake and then eat it like a big puffy taco).

             
He can’t stay away!

             
“Then don’t,” I whisper.

             
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

             
“Are you celibate?”

             
He seems amused. “No, I’m not.”

             
“Is the bottom half of you reptilian?”

             
“No.”

             
Hm. Stumped. I thought reptile for sure.

             
“What are your plans for the next few days?”

             
“I’m working today. Midday o’clock I start.”

             
“What about tomorrow?”

             
“Packing. Melissa and I are moving to that Skittles place.”

             
“You mean Seattle?”

             
I can never remember the exact name of that little town.

             
“Have you found a job yet?”

             
“No.”

             
“Have you applied to my company?”

             
“Um…no.”

             
“What’s wrong with my company?”

             
“Your company or your
company
? The second company is in italics,” I tell him.

             
“Are you smirking at me?” His tone is amused. I feel embarrassed. I look down at my unfinished pterodactyl sausage and bite my lip.

             
“I’d like to bite that lip.”

             
Brain melter!
That’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me. Especially consider
ing the next sexiest thing is
“Can I help you?”

             
“Why don’t you?” I urge quietly.

             
“Because, I won’t touch you. Not until you sign a contract saying it’s okay.”

             
What does that mean?

             
“What does that mean?”

             
“Exactly what I said. But I need to show you so you can understand more. When are you off work tonight?”

             
“Evening o’clock.”

             
Shade turns to his Blackberry and pushes one button.

             
“Cheryl, I’m gonna need the Shimmy Shango tonight?”

             
What’s a Shimmy Shango?

             
He turns to me. “I’ll pick you up evening o’clock, sharp. Then we’ll take my helicopter to my apartment.”

             
“Helicopter? Why?”

             
“Because my flying submarine is in the shop.”

             
“Oh, but if it flies then—”

             
“It’s not really a submarine, I know, I know. That’s kind of why it’s in the shop.”

             
A real nighttime date with Sebastian Shade. In his helicopter. This is way better than any Match.com first date I ever had.

             
“Let’s go, I’ll drive you back,” he says.

             
We leave the hotel room and get in the elevator together. There’s a tense silence. We glance at each other.

             
Finally, he turns to me. “Ah, fuck the contract.”

             
I envisioned him having sex with a paper contract after he said this. Hilarious.

             
He then grabbed me and kissed me like I had never been kissed before. Tongue and everything. My tongue began tonguing his tongue. I feel something stiff against my belly. I look down. He’s holding an Emmy award against me. Next to that I see his erection.
He wants me bad.

             
The elevator doors open and three amused businessmen step in. Shade lets me go. We stand apart for the rest of the ride.

             
“Excuse me.” One of the businessmen eventually turns and gives Shade an annoyed look. Seems as if Shade’s erection was pressing against him.

             
“Oh, terribly sorry,” Shade says.

             
That businessman guy doesn’t know how lucky he just was.

             
Shade is prompt. Picking me up right outside Ricklin’s as soon as I finish. Buzz-cut, bruising Cheryl opens the door for me.

             
“Miss
Stool
,” he nods.

             
I get in the beast of a luxury car. Shade is there.

             
“Evening, Miss Steel.”

             
He’s so formal. Did none of that happen in the elevator? The tonguing? The erecting? I’m seriously asking. Did it? Why won’t you answer me?!?

             
“How was your day?” he asks. He’s brushing my knuckle with his thumb. The simple gesture sends vibrations through my body. I envision myself making love to his giant, life-size thumb. It’s surprisingly hot, actually.

             
“It was okay,” I snap out of it.

             
The ride to the heliport is short. We climb out of the car.

             
“Are you ready?” he asks.

             
“For what?” Oh, right. The helicopter. I plum forgot.

             
We walk into a building and into an elevator. I start to recollect our kiss. I look at Sebastian. His expression, I can never tell if he’s thinking anything. Like looking at Sarah Palin. The kiss is the only thing on my mind.

             
“It’s only three floors,” he says with sly humor.

             
Shocker. He knew what I was thinking again. Telepathy gets boring after awhile.

             
We get off the top floor. No sign of the helicopter yet. Instead we walk into a control tower first. An old man is sitting there. He hands Sebastian a piece of paper with the directions on it. I’m guessing it’s the directions because it has just two points, one ‘A,’ one ‘B’ and a dotted line connecting the two. Must be fan
cy helicopter terms
.

             
We walk out and there it is—a giant helicopter with the name Shade Enterprises on the side. We climb in. He straps me into the seat and I’m overwhelmed. There are lights and buttons and levers and words all over the place. Who can make sense of this? Sebastian gets in next to me and begins switching and toying with everything. He tells me to put on my headphones because helicopter noise makes your ears go ouchy.

             
“Shimmy Shango Gynecology, Gynecology Edward Hancock,” he says into the walkie talkie.

             
“Roger that,” a disembodied voice says in return.

             
Shade looks at me. “Here we go.”

             
The helicopter takes off. I look down and everything is shrinking. Then I realize we’re just moving farther away from it. I get that mixed up all the time.

             
As we get closer to Seattle (I’m still not sure if I’m pronouncing it right), I ask him if he knows what he’s doing. Why I waited till now to ask I have no idea.

             
“I’ve watched Top Gun like a hundred times,” he reassures me.

             
“But…that was fighter jets. Not helicopters.”

             
He just smiles at me. I melt. When are we getting there already? I want him.