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.”
“Don’t play coy with me, Lovergirl.”
“Honestly. I have no idea whom you’re referring to.”
“Dave Shultz?”
“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.”
“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)

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Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.