Fifty Shades Shadier – Chapter Seven

It turns out the luncheon is for a group of third graders. What could be worse? The little brats have their choice of pizza, grilled cheese, or chicken chunks, which is simple enough to memorize as I jot down their orders. Ms. A and Kazuko are socializing, handing out gifts, like inverted sour patch ladies–sweet on the outside, sour on the inside.

I get a quick break and step into the walk-in to cool off. I text Bea to brag about my sacrifice.

Bea Plastique: Aw, you’re such a sweetie. I want to see you in your cute server outfit. I bet you look hot. ;)
Mormon Silver: Yes, aprons become me. Now if I could only find one in argyle.
Bea Plastique: Tell you what, Uncle M, let me know when you’re done, and I’ll give you a tour of the infamous Blue Room.
Mormon Silver: The what?
Bea Plastique: I think you’ll like how it’s decorated. I know I LOVE it.

As I finish reading the last text the walk-in door opens to Kazuko.

“You slackass. Put away phone. Get movin’.”
“I was … um … looking for the desserts.”
“Ice cream, dumdum. In freezer, not walk-in.”

I prepare a tray of tri-flavor ice cream, and proceed out to the table. The kids are already unruly; sugar is the last thing they need. As I approach, the kids become silent and start giggling and whispering. Who’s paranoid? Me.

Just as I fill both hands with plates, one little fucker whips out a squirt gun and start nailing me, right in the crotch. Perfect. I grab the gun from him.

“Very funny. Where did you get this?”
“That old lady over theyo gave it to me. She says you’re bad and I should squirt you in da wiener.”
“Cute,” I say as I glare at Grandma.
“Gimme back my gun.”
“You can either have the squirt gun or the ice cream?”
“But …”
“I throw in five bucks. Which one will it be?”
“Ice cweam, pwease.”
“Good boy.”

I holster the squirt gun in my apron, give the brat a fiver, and plot my revenge. After the kids leave, the perimeter of the table looks like a war zone. Kazuko hands an odd-looking sweeping contraption to me.

“You crean.”

I mumble to myself as I run over the same french fry ten times, unsuccessfully. A text pings in.

Bea Plastique: Ready, Uncle M?
Mormon Silver: Oh, you have no idea how ready, Lovergirl. Where to?
Bea Plastique: Take the elevator down to P2 underground. Look for parking space 243. Knock three times on the blue door next to it.
Mormon Silver: This better be good.

I finish sweeping kid shrapnel and another message pings in. It has an attached picture of Bea from the neck down–naked and glistening in oil–holding the camera in front of a mirror. Slick! I’m out of here.

Fifty Shades Shadier – Chapter Six

I manage to clear a slew of emails and enjoy a late-morning workout before it’s time for my interview. After cleaning up, I grab my iPad and a certain “gift” for Bea, in hopes I see her later this afternoon.

I valet at the Hyatt and go to the lobby. As I enter, a server walks past me in a huff, with smeared mascara. What’s going on here?

Grandma didn’t specify where I’d find her, so I walk through the corridor looking for a parked broomstick. The bellhop stops me.

“Mr. Silver?”
“Yes?”
“Boss is waiting for you in the lounge,” he directs me.
“Thank you.”

I check my watch–12:02, almost exactly on-time. That should impress her. I round the divider and find her highness standing next to another woman who could almost be her twin. They’re both reviewing a printout and look up in eerie unison.

“You’re late, blobber.”
“Two minutes? Jesus. Nice to see you too.”

The woman next to Grandma is the same height, same hairstyle, and the same rimless glasses on her nose, except …

“This is my restaurant manager, Kazuko Origami.”
… she’s Asian. I extend a hand, which is ignored as usual.
“Why you late?”
Yes, it sounded more like ‘rate’ to me.
“Huh?”
“Why you late?”
“I had to wait for the valet.”
“Bad excuse.”
“I’m sorry, is this woman a replica of you, made in China perhaps?”

Kazuko kicks me in the shin.

“Ouch!”
“Not Chinese, fuckwad. Japanese!”
“Fine. I apologize. I was just trying to be funny.”
“Not funny. Here,” she hands me a polo and a server’s apron, “you put this on.”
“Actually, I’m here to interview Ms. Aspinwald.”
“You put this on.”
“Ms. A? What’s this about?”
“We had to let a server go, which has left us short. We have an important luncheon beginning in the Marina Room, and I told Kazuko about your gracious offer to help.”

I stand there incredulous, considering my options. The Manager glares at me while holding the uniform. I can’t let her win. It’s food service. I’ve done this. How difficult can it be? Sure, it has been thirty years, but it couldn’t have changed that much.

“All right,” I agree as I take the shirt and apron. As a minor act of defiance I put down my iPad and begin removing my T-shirt.

“What you doing? You go change in bathroom.”
“I go change right here. I save time,” I insist. She kicks me again. “Hey! And, no kicking or I am going the get all Ming Dynasty on your ass,” I tease as I flex and growl like Hulk Hogan. Naturally, she kicks me again.
“Not Chinese, brobber. Japanese. You hurry. Guests waiting.”
What have I gotten myself into?

Fifty Shades Shadier – Chapter Five

Bea enters the kitchen.

“I never said yes.”
“An insignificant technicality,” the beast insists.
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt, “you’re already engaged to someone else?”
“No. Not really.”
“Yes, she is,” insists Grandma, “I witnessed the proposal. Sorry, blubber, you’re too late.”
“BLOGGER.”
“How are those eggs coming along? Don’t let them get dry.”
Ugh, the nerve of this woman.

I remove the pan from the fire and try to process what I’m hearing.

“Bea? Are you engaged to someone else or not?”
“No, of course not. He asked, but I wasn’t interested.”
“Who is he?”
“That’s not important.”
“Chris,” Grandma volunteers, “and he’s young, successful, and quite dashing.”

Bea walks over and wraps her arms around me from behind.

“You know I love you. He’s just an insignificant detail from my past.”
“Show him the ring,” Grandma suggests.
What a relentless woman.
“Wait, there’s a ring? I thought you didn’t accept.”
“Ugh. It’s in my dresser somewhere. He refused to take it back. This is the only ring with meaning,” Bea says while showing the one I gave her. That’s my girl.
“Well, I’ll let you two work out the terms of your parting ways. I have work to do. You can come back and interview me at noon, blobber.”

I sigh and count to five.

“What about your eggs, Ms. A?”
“I’ve changed my mind. Think I’ll have a scone.”

She gathers her newspaper and purse and leaves wearing a smirk.

I’m not sure what’s going on. There are dozens of questions floating around my mind. I don’t want to get into a big fight over it. If Bea wanted to be with Chris, she’d be with him. I can’t let this old woman derail our affair. Fuck Chris and the white stallion he rode off on.

After breakfast, I head home to do some writing. Words are flowing nicely. I have little interest in interviewing Grandma, but I remember the wise advice in The Godfather: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I’ll return for that interview and find the Achilles heel on that dragon.

Fifty Shades Shadier – Chapter Four

After a night of proper, horizontal celebration about our engagement, I decide to sneak out of bed and make a nice breakfast for my princess. Cooking is a passion and great way for me to decompress. I slide on my boxer-briefs, and stumble foggy-eyed into the kitchen. I open the fridge, grab eggs, and then begin searching beneath the stove for a pan. Suddenly, I hear a spoon clinking against the side of a glass. Where am I, at a wedding reception?

I turn to find Grandma seated at the breakfast nook wearing reading glasses while browsing the Union Tribune.

“Be a good boy and warm up my coffee,” she orders as she slides the mug in my direction.
“Huh?”
“Oh, and put on a shirt, will you? I wouldn’t want to find one of your silver chest hairs in my eggs.”
“Grandma, what are you doing here?”
“You may call me by my proper name, Silver.”
“Which is?”
“Gertrude Aspinwald … Ms. A, if you like.”
Silly name.
“Fine,” I agree as I carry the pot of coffee over and top off her mug. She doesn’t look up.

I retreat to the bedroom, grab my shirt off the floor, and return–no longer a health risk.

“So, Ms. A, how would you like your eggs?”

“Two whites with one yolk over easy. Fry up some bacon too. I prefer it crisp, but not burned.”
“Don’t you have room service here?”
She’s testing me …
“Of course. Don’t you know how to separate eggs?”
… and I’m not giving in.
“Of course.”
“Then you best get a-crackin’. You have a long day ahead of you.”
“In fact, I do. I’ve fallen behind in my blogging. I was supposed to interview Bea, and in two blinks I’m halfway down the aisle.”
“Not even one-tenth the way.”

I ignore her sass and begin cooking silently. I can feel her eyes. The TV remote is sitting on the counter so I flip on the TV to catch some news. Naturally, in my groggy, yet agitated state I forget the video of yours truly strapped to the bed is still loaded. Grandma snickers. I hit the “Source” button and finally find the news.

“You know something, maybe you should interview me for your blob.”
“Blog. B-L-O-G.”
“Whatever.”
“What, of interest, would you have for my readers?”
“Plenty. We could talk about my empire, how my father became rich by investing in Canadian oil fields, how I’m going to turn this property back into the thriving mecca it once was, …”
“Hmm.”
“… or, I could tell you all about my granddaughter Bea’s other fiance.”
“WHAT?”
I’m wide awake now.

Fifty Shades Shadier – Chapter Three

Worried that I might belt the woman, and confident she’d kick my ass, I excuse myself, and join Bea in the master suite.

“So, how are you two getting along?”
“About as well as Kardashians and skinny jeans. Can I throw spoons at her or at least give her a noogie? Please?”
“Now, darling, it’s important you win her over.”
“Not possible.”
“Find a way.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Grandma is my only hope of emerging from these financial difficulties. She holds the key to the safe, so to speak, and she’s here auditing my businesses to get our affairs back in order.”
“Can I at least drug her?”
“No! You go out there and make nice. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

I put on my fake smile and return to the family room. Grandma is futzing with the TV remote.

“Why won’t this work? Things were much easier in my day; you pulled the button and turned the knob. Two through thirteen, UHF, and VHF.”
“Here, let me try,” I insist as she pulls the remote away from my reach.
“I’m not helpless. If you want to make yourself useful, refill my beverage, blobber.”
Blogger. Another arsenic rocks?”
“What did you say?”
“Another up or on the rocks?”
“Neat, you nitwit.”

As I poured the biddy her drink I noticed the TV picture come into focus.

“There. Finally. Oh, dear Lord!”
“Now what? Isn’t Green Acres on?”
“Buh … wha … is that …?”

I step back from the wet bar to get a gander. I see a sixty-inch high definition picture of myself bound to the bed, wearing Canadiens panties. Fuck! It’s the video from that crazy night. I run to the front of the TV and begin pushing buttons. Finally the power is off. Bea emerges from the bedroom just in time to see me fifty shades of red.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“I know, right? Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing blue and red.”
“What’s going on?” Bea asks.
“That man is a big pervert who wears women’s undergarments.”
“I’m not that big. I’ve been cutting back on carbs, actually,”  I insist while patting my belly.

Grandma storms out the door in a huff, which is fine by me. Bea giggles.

“Why is that on your TV, you naughty Lovergirl?”
“I think Eric was watching it … while masturbating.”
“Christ.”
“Kidding. I was watching it. I know you’re not crazy about the ending but the part leading up to it was smokin’ hot, if you ask me.”
“Lovely.”
“Listen, you need to promise me you’ll use your charm on Grandma. We need her support.”
“Ugh.”
“If you do this for me, Uncle M, I’ll do this (grabbing my package) for you.”
“We have unfinished business from the elevator, don’t we? My turn.” I lift and set her on the loveseat. I remove her sweatpants. She’s pantiless. How convenient and delicious! “Oh, look: Grandma left her brandy. Can’t let that go to waste.”

I take the crystal tumbler and drizzle brandy into her bellybutton. I lick gently as the brandy river winds its way toward her spot. The coolness of the alcohol teases, as her clit dances around my tongue. I’m drunk on the sweet combination with Lovergirl’s juices. As Bea arches into climax the front door swings open.

“I left in such a hurry I forgot my … oh, for the love of … you’re disgusting–the both of you.”

I slump down and rest my cheek against Bea’s abdomen as Grandma grabs her purse, leaves, and slams the door. Bea runs her fingers through my hair as we giggle.

This won’t be easy.

Fifty Shades Shadier – Chapter Two

I turn away, zip up, and extend a hand to greet Grandma.

“Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I can see that,” she responds with a look of disgust, ignoring my extended hand.
“Oh, yes, sorry about that. I have a condition.”
“Come upstairs for a nightcap, Grandma,” Bea insists.
“You have Christian Brothers?”
“I do.”
“Fine,” Grandma agrees as she enters the elevator and stands in the opposite corner, studying me. “I thought you were done with older men. Where did you find this one?”
“Oh, he’s darling. Wait till you get to know him.”
“I’m not that much older.”
“… if you’re counting in dog years.”
“So, how about those Padres?” Bea asks, trying to change the subject.

Finally, the elevator dings and the doors open to the 43rd floor.

“After you, my dear,” I charm.
“I know better than to walk in front of an armed man. Scoot!”
This old sack is going to be hard to crack.

I sheepishly lead the way. Once in Bea’s condo, I head straight to the bar.

“I’m going to freshen up. You two get acquainted,” Bea suggests as she abandons me.
“How do you take your brandy, Ma’am?”
“Like my men: neat.”
“I’m glad you didn’t say ‘stiff.'”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, did you have a nice trip?”
“Trip where?”
“Here. I assume you’re visiting from out of town?”
“I own this building.”
“Oh.” Shitboogers.

I pour her brandy along with three fingers of Maker’s Mark to sedate me. I hand one glass to her and she continues to scowl.

“What exactly do you do, Mr. Silver?”
“Let’s have some fun. Guess.”
“Plumber?”
Hag.
“Nope.”
“Shopping cart collector?” 
I so want to drop the C-word.
“Nope.”
“Paperboy?”
Is it legal to kick an old woman in the baby hole?
“Nope, but you’re close. Give up?”
“I do.”
“I’m a blogger.”
“A what?”
“Blogger. A writer who writes things for the web.”
“Does one make a good living as a blobber?”
Blogger. Good enough.”

She gets up into my space. She’s under five feet tall and yet I’m intimidated.

“For some people, but certainly not good enough for my granddaughter,” she insists as she tweaks my nipple. I squeak like a second grade girl on the playground.

Fifty Shades Shadier – Chapter One

She said yes. Now what? Can this work long term, or is it all a game to Bea? In my fifty-plus years I’ve never been exposed to such kinkiness. I must admit, it’s not bad. Still, I worry about keeping up with my little minx. Mormon Silver may need help with this one.

After my proposal was accepted (thank goodness), we watched the game while kind fans offered congratulations. I would have preferred tequila to calm my nerves, but was gracious. Bea beamed as she stared at the ring. I beamed as I stared at her.

“Sweetie, I wish I could afford something more substantial.”
“Don’t be silly. The fact that this was handed down through generations makes it priceless,” Bea assured me as she squeezed my thigh and kissed my cheek. “We’re going to the Hyatt after the game and I’m going to give you a proper thank you.”
“If you insist.”

The Padres lost, as usual. Bea was cool about staying until the final out. It drives me crazy when fans abandon their team. Anything can happen in baseball, regardless of the score, until that final out.

Outside the stadium, Bea insisted we take a rickshaw to the Hyatt. Great. I get to smell the Eastern European man-stank of the driver for eight blocks. As we cruise along, Bea keeps grabbing my package, teasing me.

“Quit it. I don’t want to be walking into the Hyatt with wood,” I whisper.
“Really? Ooh, you are becoming engorged.”
“Engorged? I’m certainly at half-mast.”
“I love it, Sailor Mormon.”

I tip the rickshaw driver. Let’s hope he spends it on deodorant. We walk through the lobby to the elevator and I see that familiar look in Bea’s face: Something kinky will be going down while we’re going up. We step into the elevator (thank God, alone) and head to the 43rd floor. No chance we’re making it all the way. Fuck. There had better not be cameras in here.

Bea pulls out the stop button around the twentieth floor, and all hell breaks loose. She slams me up against the wall and undoes my jeans in record time. Her mouth is so warm and wet around me as she looks up occasionally to see how close I am to exploding. So damn close. Think of something non-sexual, Mormon, quick!

I used to be able to think about sports like hockey and baseball to delay my ejaculation, but Bea has ruined those counter-fantasies. All I can think of is recipes. I begin mentally concocting the design of my own natural protein bar.

Bea tugs at my testicles every time she senses I’m close. She’s quite skilled. I close my eyes and concentrate.

“You’re not coming yet, mister. You can peek over the edge, but tonight we’re going over together.”
“Two cups of natural peanut butter, …”
“What?”
“Oh, sorry.”

The elevator alarm starts to ring. I panic and push in the button to stop the ringing. Bea laughs and stands up as I yank up my jeans quickly. Naturally, Mormon luck kicks in and the elevator stops at the next floor and the doors open to an elderly woman. My purple torpedo pokes through the zipper of my jeans and points directly toward the poor woman who stands, mouth agape.

“Oh, hey, Grandma. This is my fiance, Mormon Silver.”
Down boy.

How to benefit from the Fifty Shades craze.

On Sale Now -$2.99

The three E. L. James books in the Fifty Shades series now occupy positions one through three in Amazon’s Kindle bestsellers. The books have been described as “mommy porn,” which I find pretty accurate after having read the first one. Face it: a man’s pleasure points are accessed through the eyes, whereas a woman’s pleasure points are accessed through the ears. These books are laser-targeted at the ear clitoris.

Whenever I see a craze coming or happening, I investigate why and then look for a way to leverage it. That’s why I wrote a parody, Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks, and rushed to publish it (twenty days from thought to sale).

Why are these books selling faster than lip gloss and sparkled jeans?

  • There are numerous sexually neglected or dissatisfied women around–this includes married ones. Men aren’t putting in the effort (foreplay, oral, proper courtship) they used to, nor the time required to level off the orgasm seesaw.
  • Women relate to and long for Ana’s innocence.
  • Big mystery, money, and manhood make for an irresistible man.
  • People often buy a thing because people are buying the thing.

What’s with the ratings, and why are the second and third book rated so much higher?

  • The ratings on the first book are polar. Like the movies Fight Club and Pulp Fiction, people either love it or hate it. People who are indifferent rarely bother to take the time to say so.
  • Anyone who struggled to make it through the first book would have no reason to invest $10 in either of the next two. The first book acts like a filter.

Why don’t men appreciate the books?

  • They’re unrealistic to the point of being ridiculous.
  • Although women believe (and some men say) that men prefer a virginal lover, nothing is further from the truth. Sex with an inexperienced woman is as much fun as golfing with someone who has never swung a golf club. Men want a skilled lover without knowing the specifics around how those skills were acquired. (Just tell him you learned by reading books.)
  • Most men can’t fathom being physically rough with a woman. It’s just not how a proper gentleman is wired (let’s hope).
  • SPOILER ALERT: At one point, Christian insists on getting it on, although Ana is having a visit from Aunt Flo. So, she allows him to grab the rip cord and remove Aunt Flo’s luggage and then proceeds to create rust stains. Gross! Ladies, your man will have sex with you while Aunt Flo is around, but he prefers to not hear about her until after.

Like any opportunist, I long to ride E. L. James’ coattails. Some writers will sniff at that, and to those I offer no apology; I have bills to pay. My goals with the parody were:

  • Write and publish it quickly before the hype subsides.
  • Make it sexy AND funny, without being long-winded. Nobody is going to masturbate to my book, so I don’t need to drivel on for pages with explicit sexual details.
  • Insert as many kinky, yet realistic situations as possible.
  • Gather feedback from my blog, Facebook, and Twitter followers.
  • Have it edited quickly.
  • Sell it cheaply.
  • Give away as many copies as possible. (Email me at ptorcivia@gmail.com and I’ll send you a free copy.)
  • Plan on writing sequels, if this one sells.

Well, my book released today. It’s $2.99 on Kindle and $5.99 in paperback. Amazon is going to make it free as part of their KDP Select program from May 13-17. Check it out and tell me what you think of the strategy by commenting here.

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks – Chapter 15

Bea falls asleep quickly as I spoon her. I lie there for a few minutes enjoying the scent of her hair, the taste of her neck, and warmth of her skin. Then I slide away without disturbing her and return downstairs to spend some time with my family.

“You’ve outdone yourself. Bea’s delightful.”
“I know, Mom. I’m fortunate. What’s this?” I ask as I sit at the table. There’s a ring box, which I pick up and examine.
“Open it,” Mom directs me.

Inside is my mother’s engagement ring.

“Mom, I can’t …”
“Hush. Your father worked hard to afford that ring, and it meant so much to me that he would choose to give it to me. He would have wanted you to have it and make someone feel special again.”
“Jesus.”

I welled up at the table, glad that Bea didn’t catch me. I miss my father, and I’m honored.

“OK, thank you.” I give her a big hug and my brother slaps my shoulder. “Look, let’s keep this a secret for now.”
“You do the right thing and plan a nice surprise for her out west. And, don’t be afraid to get your knee dirty.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Have someone take pictures and post them on Facebook, so you can annoy the rest of the family,” Neal teases. He knows how much I can’t stand those inane status updates.
“Funny, Bro.”

We chat for a while and Bea finally joins us. She’s wearing sweats, which is odd, but I’ve learned to expect strangeness from her. The four of us feast as my mother keeps refilling plates. What should I do with the ring? Does she even want to marry me or is this just a game? I try to avoid thinking about the ring box in my pocket.

“So, what do you two have planned for this evening?”
“I thought it would be fun if Mormon gave me a little tour of your town.”
“Perfect. Take my car,” Neal offers, “No racing, and get her home by midnight or you’re grounded.”
“Aye, aye.”

We cruise around town as I point out the places my buddies and I used to hang out. We pass an old drive-in theater that has been closed for decades, a local fast food franchise known for its awesome bratwurst, and arrive at the high school football field.

“Ooh, let’s go in.”
“Sure, why not?”

Hand-in-hand, we walk the track around the outside of the abandoned football field. It brings back memories. I was never talented enough to play, but always enjoyed supporting my school. Bea leads me to the old wooden bleachers behind the home end zone.

“Sit there. I have a surprise,” Bea teases.

She pulls off her top and peels down her sweats to reveal a cheerleader outfit in my high school’s colors.

“No way!”
“Tell me you never fantasized about having sex with a cheerleader.”
“I’d be lying. Are you going to do a cheer for me?”
“I was hoping for something a little more intimate,” she said as she approached and straddled me while unbuttoning my jeans. Oh, dear God, she’s not wearing panties, either. Sex in the high school bleachers. This is so wrong!

We make love quietly while peeking around to make sure the coast is clear. Suddenly I feel a sharp prick.

“Fuck!”
“What?”
“I think I just got a splinter.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Let me see.”
“No! God damn it.”
“Don’t start swearing or you’ll get me all worked up and more splinters.”

I don’t know how much more intimate it can be than limping home to have a lover tweeze a splinter from your ass cheek and apply peroxide and Neosporin to the wound. Sexy, huh?

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks – Chapter 14

My mother staggers and nearly faints at Bea’s revelation. I would catch her, but I’m stunned as well.

“What a wonderful surprise!”
“Isn’t it?” Bea concurs as she gives my mother a hug. I scratch my head.
“Let me see the ring,” my mother begs.
“Oh, we haven’t picked one out yet.”
“Perfect. Have you decided on a date?”
“No, Mother, I just proposed last week.”
“Well, come on in you two. You must be starved. Neal, your brother has some fantastic news.”

My brother emerges from the family room shakes my hand and gives me the “bro” hug.

“Neal, this is my … eh, hem … fiancée, Beatrice Plastique.”
“You sly devil you. I’ve never known you to be able to keep a secret.”
“Right, that’s your thing, bro.”

Neal goes to shake Bea’s hand, but she stops him.

“We’re practically family now. Families hug.”

Neal hugs her and gives me the silent “not bad” look with his lips. I shrug.

“So, Bea, how did the old man manage to snag such a young beauty?”
“Oh, your brother is quite charming.”
“It doesn’t bother you that he’s eighty?”
“Nice, dickhead.”
“Language!” my mother yells from the kitchen as she unwraps enough food for an army.
“Have you ever been to San Diego, Neal?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, the boys out that way have priorities that begin with surfing and skateboarding and end with drinking microbrews and eating cheap Mexican food.”
“Surely, they’d make room for loveliness such as yourself.”
“They have little space, considering all the roommates and sloppy pickup trucks. Your brother is sophisticated, mature, and he doesn’t play games … much.”
*cough*

We chat around the table for an hour or so while nibbling. Bea fits here too. What should I do? Mom says she has my childhood room upstairs all set for us.

“Honey, why don’t we unpack and take a little nap. Flights always wear me out,” Bea suggests.
“Good idea,” my mother agrees, “you two rest up and we’ll have a nice dinner around seven.”

I open the upstairs door for Bea and grab the suitcases. She wiggles up the steps, slowly, teasing me. I lean forward and bite her ass. She shrieks and giggles.

“So, this is the room you grew up in?”
“Indeed. Had my first orgasm right there on that bed.”
“Ah. Who, pray tell, was the lucky girl?”
“She’s right here, actually. Let me introduce you, wife-to-be.”

I spank her.

“Ha, ha, Rosy Palmer–a woman’s biggest rival.”
“Yep.”
“So, you’ve never had a woman in your childhood bed?”
“Nope. Fantasized about it a lot.”
“Mm, let’s change that right now,” she insists as we undress in seconds and go at it like teens.

It seems so naughty with my family downstairs. That’s the brand of danger and excitement she has brought into my life. I’m growing addicted to it … to her. Surely, she’s playing games with me about the engagement, but a lifetime with my kinky Lovergirl might not be so bad.

(sometimes control is best relinquished)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks – Chapter 13

Great conversation with “The Hammer” made the flight go quickly. My disappointment about not having my love with me returned when we landed. When I came through the jetway, there was a man waiting with a sign reading “Mr. Silver.” Really? A limo, perhaps? I approached him.

“Are you here for Mormon Silver?”
“Indeed. Come with me, Sir. May I take your bag?”
“All right.”

That saves me a car rental, I guess. When we exit the airport, his limousine is parked at the curb. The driver hits the remote, opens the trunk, stows my carry-on, comes to the side, and opens the rear door for me. I could get used to this lifestyle.

I duck and step in. There she is.

“Hello, Uncle M.”
“What? How did you beat me here?”
“Is that excitement or disappointment I detect in your tone?”
“Oh, definitely excitement.” I give Bea quite a squeeze. She fits so nicely. “Before I forget, thank you for the upgrade and it was amazing meeting my idol.”
“Who?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Lovergirl.”
“Honestly. I have no idea whom you’re referring to.”
“Dave Shultz?”
Nothing.
“Flyers? Broad Street Bullies? Enforcer?”
“I know who he is. Was he on the flight?”
“In the seat next to me. He shared some amazing stories.”
“How serendipitous.”
“And, now you’re here … with me.”
“I am.”

The driver pulls away and Bea reaches across my lap to press a button on the console raising the window between us and the driver. Her scent drives me wild and her positioning gives me the urge to spank her. So, I do.

“Ow!” she exclaims as she looks back at me mischievously.
“You’ve been naughty; you deserve a spanking.”
“I do.”

I lift her skirt and peel down her undies.

“He can’t see, can he?”
“No, silly. And, I really don’t care if he can.”

A few tiny spanks and she arches into me. I caress the area after each strike, work my way to the middle, and slide in a finger. She’s so wet already. Can I fuck her here? I so want to.

“Take me, Uncle M,” she begs as she starts unbuckling my belt. It’s a ninety minute ride to the house I was raised in, and we use most of the time pleasing each other. As we regain our composure in the last ten miles, Bea can’t escape, so I ask her.

“Bea, tell me something about you. I’m honestly crazy about you and I know almost nothing, other than you’re a gorgeous billionaire hockey fan.”
“Thank you. Actually, I’m not a billionaire, my love. A few years ago, maybe. No longer. The markets turned and I’m on the brink of bankruptcy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Have I scared you away?”
“Bea, nothing you can say would scare me. I’ve fallen for you. Can’t you tell?”
“I’ve fallen for you too. Are you OK with this?”
“You being here? Are you kidding? Hell yes!”
“OK, now you tell me something: What is your ultimate fantasy?”
“I’m sure it’s not nearly as exciting as yours, but I’ve always dreamed of pitching for the Padres.”
“Cute.”
“Seriously. I guess it’s something women can’t relate to.”
“It can happen, you know.”
“Not in this lifetime, my dear. Your turn: What’s your ultimate fantasy?”
“It’s boringly typical, actually: A sunset beach wedding with the man I adore.”
“Aw. I expected something darker from you.”
“See? There are many shades of me–some light and delicate. I am a lady, after all.”

The limo pulls up to the house where I was raised. My mother is waiting at the front door with a big smile. Arm-in-arm we walk up the steps. I give my mother a hug and kiss on the cheek, then introduce her.

“Mom, this is my …”
“… fiancée,” Bea interrupts.

(uh oh)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks – Chapter 12

She tortured me with radio silence the rest of the day. Is a genuine relationship possible, or will this be fun and games until we run out of ideas? Guess I’ll enjoy the ride while it lasts.

I’m up before dawn and waiting in line at the US Airways ticket counter. My texts to Bea went unanswered, still I scan the area for her–wondering and hoping. When I hand my license across the counter, I have a pleasant surprise.

“Hello, Mr. Silver. Will you be checking any bags?”
“No, I’ll carry this. It’s a short trip.”
“I see here that you’ve been upgraded to First Class.”
“Huh?”

That’s wonderful, but there’s still no sign of Bea. I wait at the gate, browsing my Kindle, peeking over my reading glasses every few minutes. Nothing.

They call First Class to board. I try calling Bea. No answer. I try calling Eric. No answer. I hand my boarding pass, walk the jet bridge, enter, and find seat 2A. I place my carry-on overhead and relax into my seat. Where is she? She must be 2B.

I check my cell again. Nothing. Suddenly, a FaceTime request comes through. I answer and see Lovergirl’s smiling face. She’s in the jet’s restroom, wearing a red wig, dressed like a flight attendant.

“Hello, Uncle M.”
“Bea, what’s going on?”
“I always wanted to do it on a plane. Are you game, Uncle M, or are you already a mile-high member?”
“Technically, this would be only around twenty feet but, where do I apply?”
“Walk to the rear of the plane. I’m in the restroom on the right. Tap twice and I’ll let you in, lover.”

Like an anxious teen at his prom, I stride back with an uncomfortable lump in my jeans. I arrive and tap. The door unlocks and opens.

Sex in a jet bathroom is anything but easy. We giggled like mischievous children as we contorted our bodies to find a comfortable angle. I banged my funny bone on the faucet. She accidentally pressed “Flush.” Yet, we managed to make love.

We finished quickly before the plane began filling up. Bea suggested she leave first and wait for me at our seats, as to not raise suspicion. I agreed and cleaned up after she left. I stared at myself for a moment in the mirror, wondering how I’d explain our relationship to my family. My face showed beaded perspiration, lip gloss glitter, and an unfamiliar blissful smile. Bea is holding my heart now. I shrug and head back to our seats, annoying the travelers by going against the grain.

When I get back to First Class, there’s a man sitting in 2B. I check above the seat to make sure I have the right row.

“I’m sorry, sir. You must be in the wrong seat.”
“No, actually I’m in two B,” he said as he showed me his boarding pass. He looked familiar to me.
“I’m in two A and my, um, girlfriend is sitting there.”
“Sorry, buddy,” he tells me as he rises to let me in.

Did she do it to me again? I flop down into my seat and check around. No sign of her.

“You OK?” my row mate asks.
“I guess so.”
“Want a drink? I know I could use one.”

He waves to get the attendant’s attention. I notice a huge ring on his right hand and it hits me.

“Holy shit! You’re Dave Fucking Shultz.”
“Dave William Shultz, actually, but you can call me ‘The Hammer.'”

I shake the hand of one of my heroes, a Philadelphia Flyers legend, and wonder how much of this she has orchestrated.

(my love is taking me higher)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks – Chapter 11

It’s not my first choice for places to get it on, but definitely a first for me. My friend pokes her head in the bathroom door.

“Yo, Boss, you best be finishing up. Bogeys are closing.”
“Bogeys?”
“Cops.”
Shit.

Bea plants a deep kiss on me, jumps off, lifts her panties, and leaves the stall. My legs are half asleep and my ass is killing me. She insisted we do it with the toilet seat up to teach me about manners since I left the seat up at the Hyatt.

“Goodbye, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait … hold on,” I demand as I struggle to my feet and stamp my foot, trying to get the blood circulating again.
“Ciao.”
“Bea, I’m flying east tomorrow. Bea?”

It’s no use; she’s gone again.

I check myself in the mirror and splash water on my face. Ladies rooms are gross. Women can be such slobs. I wash my hands and open the door with the hand towel. Outside the bathroom are two police officers and an elderly woman. Yep, I’m fucked.

“That’s him officer. I saw him give money to what I assume was a pimp and then he went in there and had sex with that woman who just walked out. I could hear them. It was gross.”
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Officers, I can see how this strange situation could be misunderstood,” I dance with lies while Bea walks away smiling. She waves and winks. Got me again. “I actually saved that woman’s life.”
“Really.”
“Oh, yes. You see, I was just passing by when another woman came out and asked for help because somebody was in the bathroom … um … choking.”
“Choking? On what?”
“His penis, I bet,” the old woman interjected. We all stared at her incredulously. “Just sayin’.”
“An Altoid, actually. I ran in, performed a Heimlich maneuver, and saved her life. You’re welcome.”
“Look, sir, I don’t know what kind of sick bastard you are, but you need to leave this courthouse immediately.”
“What? You’re not going to let him go, are you?”
“Thank you, Officer. Good day.”
“He … but … he’s a pervert. Lock him up!”

I made haste. That could have gone much worse. What did Bea mean about seeing me tomorrow? She can’t be seriously considering coming east with me, can she? I can’t introduce her to my family. God, she’s so fucking amazing, though. I can’t believe I’m falling for her, even after all she puts me through. Bathroom stall or not, her kisses have changed. I think she’s falling for me too. We share something more substantial with every tryst. I’m losing control … and I love it.

(I’m lost in a daze.)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks – Chapter 10

Lovergirl won’t answer my texts, so I call Eric.

“Dude, what’s up with your crazy boss?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s ignoring me.”
“Actually, she just has a full schedule this morning. I’m glad you called, though.”
“Why is that?”
“She asked me to set up a lunch appointment today between you two.”
“When and where?”
“The Courthouse Cafe at noon.”
“All the restaurants in town and she wants to eat at the fucking courthouse?”
“Yep.”
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
“Oh, and can I ask you a question, Mr. Silver?”
“You just did.”
“Clever. No, really.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did your parents name you Mormon?”
“They didn’t. It’s a nickname, Eric.”
“Cute.”
“I was a chubby kid. Whenever mother made my dinner plate I’d say, ‘More, Mom.'”
“Aw. So what’s your real name?”
“Jew.”
“What?!”
“It’s short for Jude.”
“Oh, thank God … or whomever.”
“Tell Bea I’ll see her at noon.”
“I will. She asks that you bring the signed document.”
“We’ll see.”

I tie up some loose ends around my house and pack for tomorrow’s trip back east. I wonder what was captured by that camera and what it will cost to get it from her. I can’t stand being at a disadvantage. Right now, she owns me.

Still confused about her choice of lunch venues, I park at the courthouse and enter through security. It’s as one would expect: police, lawyers, and criminals. I find the cafe and scan the area for Bea. No luck. It’s five after noon. Have I missed her? I grab a cup of (awful) coffee, pick a table for two, pull out my phone, and wait. The text rings in.

Bea Plastique: Dearest, Uncle M: It seems I’ve been assessed a five-minute major for fighting. I’m stuck in a penalty stall. Please rescue me.

Oh, Jesus. The games never cease with this woman. Penalty stall? What the hell is she referring to? It’s a penalty box, not a stall. Oh, shit. She’s in a bathroom stall! No doubt she’s picked a ladies room stall to make my hunt more difficult.

Mormon Silver: Bea, stop playing games. Where are you?
Bea Plastique: 4:30 remaining.
Mormon Silver: There must be four bathrooms on this floor alone. Where are you?!
Bea Plastique: 4:15 remaining.

I can’t let her beat me. The clerk behind the counter points me to the closest restroom. There are police everywhere. I can’t walk in or I’ll be fucked. In fact, I’ll be fucked either way, but I prefer the kind that doesn’t involve a TASER. I need to find an accomplice. There’s a Latina woman sitting outside a courtroom–obviously a call girl. I approach her.

“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself, handsome.”
“Are you busy right now?”
Bea Plastique: 3 minutes.
Fuck.
“Court is in recess until twelve thirty.”
“Perfect. How’d you like to earn twenty dollars?”
“Man, you are brave, soliciting a woman in a damn courthouse.”
“No, no, not for that. I just need your help. I’m looking for someone and I think she’s hiding in a restroom.”
“Kinky.”
“Forty dollars?”
“Make it fifty.”
“Let’s go.”

I show her a picture of Bea on my phone as we jog to the first bank of restrooms. She darts in and checks. 

Bea Plastique: 2 minutes.

“Nothing?”
“Nope. I am getting some dirty looks from people when I look under the stall doors. I may need another twenty.” 

Bea Plastique: 1 minute.

We head down another corridor past angry couples obviously there for divorce hearings. My new friend enters. I hear voices, then she reappears.

“Yep, she’s in there. Center stall.”

I attempt to enter. She stops me.

“What are you doing? You can’t go in with other people in there.” 

Bea Plastique: 30 seconds … :(

“Damn it! Look, here’s another fifty if you go in and get everyone to leave.”

My friend takes the fifty, goes in, and starts yelling like a crazy person. Women come streaming out. 

Bea Plastique: 10 seconds … >:(

Finally, the coast is clear. I sprint into the bathroom and throw open the center stall door. There’s Lovergirl, sitting on the john, phone in hand, skirt up, panties down.

“Hello, Uncle M.”

(if the stall is shaking, it’s love we’re making)

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*
“Hello?”

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

“Housekeeping.”

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.”
“Who?”
“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.”
“Really?”
“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?”
“Bea.”
“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.”
“Bye.”

Advantage Lovergirl. Not for long.

(Silver is now a man on a mission.)