Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Fifteen

I drive down to the Hyatt, fighting traffic all the way. I park on the level near the Blue Room and text Bea.

Mormon Silver: The package has arrived.
Bea Plastique: Ha! Is it still in its hard, protective shell?
Mormon Silver: No, luckily it has returned to its original shape.
Bea Plastique: Not lucky for me. :( Anyway, I'm running late and will be there in thirty minutes. You can go ahead in and wait for me.
Mormon Silver: I don't have a key.
Bea Plastique: Check your email. I sent you the link and code.
Mormon Silver: OK. See you soon.
Bea Plastique: And don't touch anything in there ... yet.
Mormon Silver: Yes, ma'am.

Sure enough, I have an email from her on my iPhone. I click the link and enter the code. The door buzzes open. Fancy! I bring along my love glove. Time for exploration.

I cruise around the room, inspecting the various unfamiliar instruments. Dickhead's paddle is still hanging on the wall. I have half a mind to take it to her mischievous butt. I didn't realize my last time here that there are additional rooms. I find one with an actual (non-rubberized) bed, a TV, and, naturally, a mirror on the ceiling. Then, I try another door, which opens to a playroom with a pool table and an air hockey machine. Hm.

The bed looks comfy so I plop down on it and begin thumbing the remote. Thankfully, the video that comes into focus isn't me in panties, but it is porn. There's no limit to her kinkiness. The video shows a nude redhead wearing a masquerade mask, lying on a bed next to a tray filled with assorted lubes, fruit, and vegetables. There's a dim, sexy candlelight flickering. I feel a twitch. Looks tasty. I know I haven't had my six servings.

The woman is playing to the camera. She drizzles lube just above her shaven pussy and allows it to drip like syrup down her luscious lips. More twitching in my pants. Oh, boy. She smiles toward the camera as she spreads the lube with her fingers, arching her back in pleasure. The bed and room look familiar.

She begins sampling the fruit and veggie tray, as Little Mormon begs to come out and play. First, she lubes up a healthy-sized zucchini. She inserts it a few inches, pulls it out, rubs it on her love button, and reaches to the tray for another item: a yellow squash. Wow, she's a trooper!

Then, I realize the bed in her video is the one I'm currently lying on. This was filmed here? Hot! I look beneath the TV and see a tripod stand and camera. Thank God, the camera is off. I wonder who ... it couldn't be, could it? Shit. It is. The woman in the video is my luscious Lovergirl wearing a red wig. I should have recognized her by that amazing body.

It's hard to resist pleasuring myself while watching Lovergirl play with her food. I hear the front door buzz and welcome the voice of my vixen.

"Hello, Uncle M."
"Hello, Lovergirl."
"What are you up to?"
"Just checking out the Food Network. I never knew Rachael Ray was so talented, nor zucchini that versatile."

Bea enters the bedroom and notices my lump.

"Hard still?"
"Hard again. I'm dying to see what she does with eggplant. Meanwhile," I slide into my love glove, "somebody here was exceptionally fiendish today, and deserves a spanking."
"Ooh, yes, I was very bad," Bea admits as she removes her undies and dives across me, lying perpendicular across my waist. She lifts her skirt. "How many lashes shall I receive, Master?"
"Five should do. But, it will have to wait until my show is over."

She turns her head toward me and gives that lower-lip pout I can't resist.

"Fine," I agree. I hit pause on the remote, turn my love glove on slow vibration, and strike her lightly on the bum.
"Was that supposed to hurt? Are you trying to punish me or tickle me?"
"I don't think I could ever bring myself to hit a woman harder than that. Sorry, sweetness. Perhaps you would accept alternative punishment in the form of a deep vaginal massage."
"Yes, please."

Once again, my glove and my love--a match made in sensuality.

Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Fourteen

After our backseat booty bouncing, I finally get a bit of bend in my bone.  She flips around to face me. Now, to other pressing matters.

"How was your meeting with Grandma?"
"Funny you should ask. There was a special guest appearance."
"Who? Kazuko?"
"No, a big fan of yours who is becoming a festering boil on my rump."
"No!"
"Yes. Chris."
"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?"
"You."
"Ha! You have no idea."
"What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"
"For?'
"The shindig. You're not driving."
"What shindig?"
"Bachelor Party part one at The Purple Church."
"Huh?"
"Oh, shit. Was that supposed to be a surprise?"
Who's behind this?
"Spill, dude."
"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."
"Cool."

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.

Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Thirteen

I'm fuming over his nonsense, and becoming concerned over No-Longer-Little Mormon. I'd love to work off some anger at the gym, but that's not going to happen in my current state. Maybe a bath will do.

I phone Bea on the way home. It goes straight to voice mail, so I call her office. Eric answers.

"How's it going, Eric?"
"Fine. And you, Mr. Silver?"
"I've seen better days. Is she around?"
"In a meeting right now. She should be done around noon. Is it an emergency?"
"Um," I hesitate, "no, not really."
"What's up?"
"Funny you should ask in such a way. I have a problem with two dicks."
"Ooh, do tell!"
"The first dick--the larger of the two--is Bea's ex, Chris. Know him?"
"I do, and you're right--he's a dick."
"He's trying to work his way back into her life by buying me off."
"An incorrigible dick."
"What you said."
"And the other dick?"
"My own, actually. For the last hour, I've had petrified wood with no signs of ever bending again."
Eric laughs.
"I'm not exaggerating ... and, I have to pee."
Eric laughs harder.
"I'm happy to amuse you."
"Oh, shit, wait. Oh my god, that crazy woman. Did you take a little yellow pill today, by chance?"
"What pill?" I ask. I can hear Eric fumble around his desk.
No way.
"Ms. Plastique borrowed a few pills from me recently."
"What sort of pills?"
"Cialis." 
Fuckity fuck bubbles. It wasn't Ibu she handed me this morning. Great.
"Well, that explains it. Now, what am I supposed to do with this?"
"It says something on the label: 'If your erection lasts more than four hours, call Eric.'"
"Very funny. And, why would Eric have such pills in his possession?"
"My mature boyfriend sometimes needs assistance, so we keep a supply handy."
She fucking drugged me. She will be spanked.

"Now, I have to sit around for another three hours wondering what to do with this." I pinch the swollen helmet. "Lovely."
"You could hammer down loose floorboards. Pole vault? Ring toss? Masturbate?"
"Right. I'm going to unload a batch, soak in the tub, and hope for the best."
"Need a hand?"
"No, Eric, I don't need a hand; I have two. Tell Bea to call me the minute she gets out of that meeting."
"Will do. Oh, and Mr. Silver?"
"Yes?"
"I'm pulling for you ... I mean with Ms. Plastique."
"Thank you, Eric."

Once home, I manage to pee through my turgidity without spraying the walls. I launch a quick batch. Still hard. I fill the tub and soak. My periscope points up at me, refusing to subside. She made me this way; it's her duty to fix it.

I dry off, dress, and drive to Bea's office. I park in the rear, climb into the back, and lie down.

Mormon Silver: I'm at your office, you naughty woman. Meet me out back when you're done with your meeting.
Bea Plastique: Why?
Mormon Silver: You know why. Two hours now. I think I'm dying.
Bea Plastique: Don't be so hard on yourself. ;)
Mormon Silver: Nice.
Bea Plastique: Wood you like to see me or not?
Mormon Silver: Oh, you're a riot, Alice.

Fifteen minutes later, I hear the clicking of her heals as she approaches my Jeep. I'm still full tilt. She peeks in the passenger window and giggles.

"Oh, my." She climbs in the passenger seat.
"You created this beast, now you're going to help me get rid of it. Get back here."
"My pleasure."
"Wait. First, open my glove compartment."
She does, and reacts like a kid opening a Christmas present as she pulls out my Fukuoku love glove.
"What's this and why is it here?"
"That is a glove compartment, is it not?"
"Good point."
"Bring it back here with you."
"Yes, Uncle M."

She crawls between the seats into the back and hands me the glove. She slides down her undies and opens my jeans.

"Oh, my!" she remarks at my steel beam, which is beginning to turn as purple as Prince.

I slide into the glove and turn it on low. She mounts me, Reverse Cowgirl style. God, what an ass on this woman! I reach around with my left hand and go to town on her clit as she lowers herself and grinds on my rod. She comes quickly when Uncle M wears the glove. I'm mostly numb, but enjoying it nonetheless. She fucks me so thoroughly that the thought of that other dick fades away ... for the time being.

Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Twelve

Making sure I'm not late, I zip down the coast and rumble over the train tracks. I feel an odd sensation as Little Mormon begins to rise in my jeans. Hm, the slightest thought of my Lovergirl does this to me?

As I park and approach the E Street Cafe, I "adjust" myself and hope the lump in my pants isn't noticeable. A text beeps in.

Bea Plastique: How's your head?
Mormon Silver: Still throbbing.
Bea Plastique: LOL! Oh, I bet.
Mormon Silver: And that's funny why?
Bea Plastique: No particular reason. Would you like Nurse Lovergirl to take a look?
Mormon Silver: Huh?
Bea Plastique: ... at the swelling? Tee, hee.
Holy shit, she can see me.
Mormon Silver: Where are you? Thought you said you had to go to the Ranch office today.
Bea Plastique: That's where I am.
Mormon Silver: Then, how can you see my swelling?

I adjust my package again. A woman sitting inside the window has noticed. She wrinkles her nose. The door opens as I send the last text; it's Grandma.

"Well, it's about time. Let's go. I only have an hour."
"Where's mini-she?"
"Kazuko is keeping an eye on the shop," Grandma explains as she leads me to her table. "Why are you limping? Did you hurt yourself, you clumsy oaf?"
Oh, shit. How can I spin this?
"Um, yes, I stubbed my toe on the bedpost this morning. How nice of you to care."
"I didn't say I cared, did I?"

When we arrive at her table, a tall, handsome man stands to greet me. He's wearing a gray suit and a smirk.

"Mormon, this is Chris."
Seriously? Not THE Chris!
I shake his hand and size him up. He has a good six inches, twenty years, and forty pounds of muscle on me.

"Let me guess: You're the woman-beating douche who sent me flowers."
"I sent flowers to my fiance, Bea, actually."
"What's he doing here?" I ask Grandma.
"Look, Mormon," she toys, "we all know you're a temporary distraction for my granddaughter. She's having a tough time dealing with her fiance being out of town so much, ..."
"... and, now that I'm back in town," Chris adds, "I need you to go away so we can resume our wedding plans."
"Right. Why would I do that?"
"Well, I suppose I could give you a few thousand reasons," he offers as he pulls a checkbook and pen from his vest pocket.
"Not millions?"
He presses his slimy lips into a thin line, "Mr. Silver, you should be thankful I'm offering anything as you're frankly not even worth hundreds to me."
"I see. Just so we're clear, Bea isn't worth hundreds, thousands, or millions to me--she's priceless. She's also a free woman who prefers to be treated like a lady, not a racehorse."

I try to stay calm, but I can feel my face flush. He definitely can beat my ass, so I'm not going there. Oddly, through all this, I now have a raging hard-on, which Grandma discovers. She shows disdain toward me as usual.

"Dear Lord, Mr. Silver. Can't you control yourself?" Grandma quips.

Great fucking timing!

I ignore her and continue. "So, Chris, put away your checkbook, stop sending flowers, and crawl back into whatever leather-walled dungeon you crawled from. You had your shot and you blew it. Bea is marrying me."

I turn to leave.

"This isn't over, Silver. She'll be mine again soon. You don't know what Bea needs; I do. She's out of your league, Silver!"
We'll see.

Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Eleven

"What is it, honey?" Bea asks from the bedroom.
"Nothing. Be right there."

I stuff the roses into the garbage disposal. It grinds loudly. Bea emerges from the bedroom, already down to her lacy undergarments. How can I be mad at her when she's so delicious?

"What are you doing?"
"Oh, that was a delivery for you," I inform as I hand her the card. "I was trying to water the lovely roses and, oops, they slipped into the drain."
"He's such a jerk."
"Are you absolutely certain this thing between you two is over?"
"Way over. He's a freak and I want nothing to do with him."
"Why did you break it off in the first place?"
"He's twisted. All he wanted to do was dress me, force me to eat, and spank me. I felt like cattle he was fattening for slaughter. He used to leave bruises on me."
"Sounds like he needs a beating."
"I know, Mormon, but he's not worth it. He's way up in Seattle anyway. Just ignore him. Please?"
"So, we're not breaking up tonight?"
"Quite the opposite, my love," she assures as she tosses the card into the garbage.

We scurry into the bedroom before the melted white chocolate cools.

"You first, Lovergirl," I insist as she giddily complies by removing her undergarments.
"Would you like me sunny-side up or over easy?"
"Hm. Let's start with up."

I take the cool creme de mente and run a river from her neck to her navel. I see goosebumps. I drip a bit over my index finger and touch it teasingly to her lips. She takes my finger in and teases the tip with her tongue. Time for another sensation. I take a honey ladle, dip it into the thick melted chocolate and dollop a bit on each nipple, both sides of her neck, and in the crease where her thighs meet her hips.

"Is that too hot, Lovergirl?"
"It's perfect, Uncle M."

I spray whipped cream, leaving a white stripe next to the minty green river. This is beginning to resemble a New York Jets uniform. Not that I'm a football fan, but I will definitely fuck this tight end tonight.

Time for the fruit. While the chocolate dries on her, I take a strawberry, dip it in the fondue pot, spray a spot of cream on the tip and feed her. We kiss while she chews. The pink juices run down her neck; I catch them and lick her clean.

We take turns coating each other and enjoying the sensations: the mix of flavors, the cool, the warm, the runny, the firm. My Lovergirl is the most delicious treat I've ever experienced, and there will be no leftovers for CG.

A night of love wears on me as my fifty-year-old body makes me pay for my twenty-year-old thoughts. Bea dresses next to the bed as I wake up.

"Ugh. Could you dim that light please?"
"That's the sun, silly man," she giggles as she tickles my foot. "You had better get up. You have an interview in one hour."
"Huh? Oh, Jesus. Grandma?"
"Yep. She's meeting you at the E Street Cafe in Encinitas at ten."
"Shit. I have an owie," I remark while rubbing my eyes. "My head feels like someone is pinching my brain stem with needle-nose pliers."
"Here," she hands me a pill and bottle of water.
"Ibu?"
"Something like that."

I down the pill and hit the shower. Bea stops by and gives me a kiss on her way out. If I can get past her evil ancestor and abusive ex, I'm confident there's a wonderful life ahead of us.

Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Ten

I suffer through the painful end of the overtime win by the Canadiens, wondering how to free myself. Then I hear a buzz and unlatching of the door. It swings open. Shit. Not again.

The same two housekeepers who caught me in a bind in Bea's suite walk in carrying mops while giggling at my expense.

"Hello, sir. We were told there was a spill in aisle Blue."
"Har-de-fucking-har. Untie me."
"Wow, somebody's in a bad mood."
"I don't think I like his attitude," the second maid adds.
"Fine. Please untie me."
"That's better, but ..."
"Pretty please, with a twenty-dollar tip on top."
"As you wish."

They untie me and I try to get the circulation flowing to my hands and feet again. I gather my clothes and wallet. I peel off a twenty for my rescuers and pocket my gift card. At least I netted five dollars and Bea's amazing posterior in the transaction. I consider myself ahead.

I go to the valet and retrieve my Jeep. Once home, I flop onto the couch, in desperate need of a nap. Not fifteen minutes into it, my phone beeps.

Bea Plastique: How's it hanging, Uncle M?
Mormon Silver: I am going to beat your little butt next time I see you.
Bea Plastique: Promises, promises. Oh, and when might that be?
Mormon Silver: How about dinner at my place tonight?
I sure could use home field advantage for once.
Bea Plastique: Sounds fun. When?
Mormon Silver: 7ish.
Bea Plastique: What can I bring?
Mormon Silver: Toppings: spray whipped cream, Hershey's syrup, and creme de menthe.
Bea Plastique: Yum!

I scurry through the grocery store gathering toy food. The checkout clerk wears an odd expression as she types the produce codes.

"Someone is planning quite the feast."
"Indeed."
"Who's the lucky girl you're going to eat this off ... I mean, with?"
I grab a banana. "Behave yourself. I'm licensed to carry, and I have a big banana."
"Ooh, even luckier."

Bea shows up fashionably late with the bag of toppings, as requested. I'm going to devour them and her. I make sure my Broad Street Bullies DVD plays while we eat dinner. Teasingly, I leave the dessert tray on the counter: bananas, strawberries, and pomegranate. I also have a fondu pot simmering with melted white chocolate.

She rushes through dinner, but I intentionally stall.

"Is it time for dessert yet?" she begs.
"Not until Uncle M has cleared his plate," I tease as I spoon another helping of green bean casserole.

She sticks out her lower lip and crosses her arms like an infant. I laugh at her expression.

"OK, Lovergirl. Let's have dessert."
"Yay!"

She claps and grabs her bag of toppings. I gather the food tray and fondue pot, then lead her into my bedroom.

"What's this?" she asks as she sees the big blue tarp covering my bed.
"I can't afford your architect, so this baseball mound cover will have to do for my version of a Blue Room."

It's often wise to improvise.

Naturally, as we're about to dine on each other, the doorbell rings.

"Are you kidding me? If this is people here to talk about Jesus, I'm going to send them to meet him."
"I'll do a little grounds maintenance while you're gone," Bea offers as she begins undressing.

I answer the door to a delivery man holding a dozen red roses. WTF? Did Bea send me roses? There's a note attached.

Dearest Bea, I hope you and your future ex-lover enjoy your break up sex. I'll be waiting. CG

Fucker!

Fifty Shades Shadier - Chapter Nine

I'm tempted to leave her strapped down, but I can't bring myself to do it. As our heartbeats return to normal, Bea leads me into a side room--an amazing bathroom with black tile, a whirlpool, and a shower that rains from above. Bea turns on the shower and taps buttons on a control panel to change the mood of the music. Sade sings while we scrub the oils from each other. I'm hard again. I can't resist her. If this keeps up I'll need an IV. Then again, I do love my Kindle and I'm two orgasms away from another $25 gift card.

As we make love on the edge of the tub, my jealous thoughts of Chris G. subside. Her second orgasm is explosive as I'm beginning to learn how to push her love buttons.

We dry off, put on soft robes, and return to the play area. I fiddle with the straps on the funky swing, trying to imagine what goes where and how.


"The next time we make love, I want you to tell me exactly what you want and how you want it," I suggest.
"As long as you talk dirty to me."
"I do."
"Not really; you're more like PG. I prefer triple-X."
"Really? Like what?"
"You know."
"I don't, otherwise I'd comply ... probably. I say 'fuck' a lot. That's good, right?"
"Sure, but there are other naughty words."
"Oh, that's right: you're into hockey stuff. OK, how about punishment for 'High Dicking,' 'Cross-Licking,' and 'El-blowing' penalties?"
"Funny. No, I mean other swear words."
"Like?"
"I can't say them. I don't swear, remember?"
"Fine. I'll say a swear word and you give me a hotness reading on a scale of one to ten, with ten being sizzling. Cool?"
"Cool."
"Pussy."
"Three."
"What? That deserves a six, minimum. All right. Cock."
"Seven."
"Hmm, better. How about twat?"
"That one depends."
"On?"
"The adjective."
"Ah, I got this. So, something like honey dripping hungry little twat is good and stinky twat is bad."
"You're catching on."

We continue playing the word games, then Bea offers to demonstrate the swing to me.

"Let me strap you in."
"Ha! No way."
"Don't you trust me?"
"Not really."
"I'm hurt, Uncle M. Oh well. Pity. You were so close to getting that Kindle gift card."
Jesus. She knows my weaknesses. 
"OK, fine. Be gentle."
"Of course."

Bea straps my wrists and ankles, and runs a harness under my lower back. The bungee straps give a bit, so I bounce playfully.

"Say, why don't you climb aboard, Lovergirl," I dare her.
"Nope."
Ah, that's right--dirty talk.
"Get your delicious cunt over here right now and straddle my fuck stick."

Her eyed widen, she drops the robe, undoes mine, and saddles up. We bounce like crazy as I wonder if the straps might give way. Orgasm number three comes in minutes as Uncle M relishes the thought of another conquest and another eBook.

Bea dismounts, walks away, and begins dressing. Oh, no.

"Um, Lovergirl?"
She ignores me.
"Sweetie?"
Nothing.
"Honey?"
Shit.

Bea--fully dressed now--changes the channel on the TV I'm facing. A DVD begins playing: NHL Playoff Series, Game 1. April 24, 2008: Montreal Canadiens 4, Philadelphia Flyers 3.

She reaches into her purse, pulls out a gift card, tosses it my way, winks, and leaves me hanging.