Sunday, May 27, 2012
Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Fourteen
"How was your meeting with Grandma?"
"Funny you should ask. There was a special guest appearance."
"No, a big fan of yours who is becoming a festering boil on my rump."
"Oh, Mormon. I'm so sorry. Did he threaten you?"
"Actually, he tried to bribe me."
"Ugh. That's how he operates. When he can't have his way he buys it."
"Yep. So, I'm five dollars richer and you're about to marry into major douchebaggery."
"That's not funny."
"He threw in a Ginsu."
"I'd like to throw a Ginsu at him. He has such nerve. What did he say?"
"He insists this thing between us is a tryst, and you'll return to him."
"No chance. You know this is real, my love," she insists as she touches my cheek and stares into my eyes with clarity and sincerity.
I raise my gloved hand and give her a thumbs-up. We break into laughter--two lovers, midday, in the back seat acting like horny teenagers.
"I have to get back inside. Another meeting. Why don't you meet me in the Blue Room around six tonight?"
"Hm, that might be fun." Oh shit, stiffness is returning.
"It most definitely will be," she assures as she leans forward, kisses my throbber, and crawls into the front.
"I almost forgot. You fucking drugged me, you maniac!"
"It was an accident."
"You will be harshly punished for this misdeed later, Lovergirl."
"I sure hope so."
Bea blows a kiss and walks back into her office. I holster my meat and climb into the driver's seat. Maybe I can get some writing done this afternoon. The distraction may persuade my blood to stop pooling in my groin.
As I pull away, my phone rings through Bluetooth; it's my buddy, Grant.
"What up, G?"
"Ha! You have no idea."
"What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"
"The shindig. You're not driving."
"Bachelor Party part one at The Purple Church."
"Oh, shit. Was that supposed to be a surprise?"
Who's behind this?
"I got a Facebook event notice from Bea. Thought for sure you were on it."
"I probably am. I haven't had a chance to sign in. Been a little occupied."
What's she up to?
"So, what time? It starts at eight."
"Pick me up at seven-thirty, I guess."
"See you tomorrow."
A man my age shouldn't have a bachelor party; he should have a nice dinner outdoors with friends, Cuban cigars, and expensive tequila. Fine. I'll play the role.