Thursday, April 26, 2012

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 9

I'm walking through a field of marijuana plants. The scent is overpowering and delicious. Suddenly, I feel a sting on my left arm. A psychedelic bee licks his lips, winks, and flies away. I fall and lie in a clearing, staring at the clouds as they take various forms.

*Tap, Tap, Tap*

What is that noise? I try to sit up but I'm weak. I tilt my head forward and see a door in the middle of the field.

*Tap, Tap, Tap*

I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to rub them clear. I realize my arms are bound. A room comes into focus.


The door opens. Two maids stand in the doorway of the master suite, eyes wide and giggling. I'm bound to the bed, naked except for ... oh, no ... underwear--Bea's Montreal Canadiens underwear.

"I'm sorry, sir, would you like us to come back later?"
"No, actually I'd like you to untie me."
"Is someone else here?" one of the maids asks as she approaches me cautiously. She looks into the closet as the door is ajar. I see the tripod with one missing camera. Fuck! The camera! How could I have forgotten?
"Nobody is here. Please untie me and stop looking at my package. I'm not a damn Canadiens fan."
"If you say so."
"Flyers rule."
"Never mind. Just untie me."

They each untie my arms. I sit up and undo my feet.

"Thank you, ladies. Perhaps you could come back in an hour or so."
"Of course," they respond. I hear them chatting and giggling as they leave the suite. Bea will pay for this.

As I run my tongue under a fat lip I realize my left shoulder is sore too. The bee sting. She must have drugged me. On the bedside table I find my love glove. It has been posed with the fingers curled in, except the middle one. Cute. There's something in the palm. I open the fingers and find a $25 Amazon gift card. Well, at least she doesn't welch on her bets. Under the glove is my copy of Bea's Rules with a "sign here" sticky note pointing to the line above my name.

Thankfully, my clothes are here, folded neatly. I quickly remove her panties, toss them, get dressed, and go down to the lobby in search of a large espresso to clear my head. The kind barista brews a strong triple and offers an apple fritter. I grab a Union Tribune, sit, and plot my revenge. Suddenly, I hear the patrons seated behind me giggling. They're reacting to odd noises coming from the TV. Holy shit! I'm on TV, and I'm not doing the news--I am the news.

I leap to my feet, stand on a chair, and power off the TV before somebody recognizes the embarrassing shot of me tied to a bed in panties. Fuck.

My phone rings. It's my mother.

"Hi, Ma."
"Hey there stranger. How have you been?"
"Fine. You?"
"Just getting the guestroom ready."
"Ma, that was supposed to be a surprise. Did Neal tell you?"
"You know your brother can't keep his yap shut. I'm so excited. What a nice Mother's Day gift. You'll be happy to hear there's no rain in the forecast."
"That's nice. I sure need a vacation. I've had a rough night."
"Did it by chance involve the future mother of my grandchildren?"
"Not likely."
"Ma, I have to run. Let me call you back later today."
"Okey dokey. Say, will your lady guest be sharing the room with you?"
"What lady guest?"
"What?! How on earth do you know Bea?" Lovergirl is completely under my skin now.
"She sent me a lovely package with my favorite gourmet teas and a kind note saying she was eager to meet me."
"No, Mother, she won't be staying with me."
"Why not?"
"It's complicated. I gotta go, Mom."
"If you want to talk about it ..."
"Not now, Mom. I'll call you later. Love you."
"Love you back."

Advantage Lovergirl. Not for long.

(Silver is now a man on a mission.)