50 Shades of Sex, A Parody

My roommate, Kacie, stood in the center of the room, decked out in pajamas, her nose bright red with tissue papers protruding from each nostril.

Holy crap.  She looked terrible.  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

She sneezed.  “I’b thick.”

“Maybe a little around the ankles, but that doesn’t explain the rest of your appearance.”

“No, I’b thick.  I think I hab a cold.”  She hacked up a loogey and let it drip into a wastepaper basket.

Holy crap, that’s disgusting.  “But what about your big interview for the student newspaper?”

Suddenly she recovered some of her old charm.  She batted her eyelids.  “Anatolia,” she said in the sweetest  voice she could muster. 

There was something about the way she said my name.  I knew I was in for it.  Holy crap.  “I can’t do an interview.  I don’t even work for the newspaper.”

“It’s not hard to be a journalist these days.  Haven’t you ever watched one of those 24 hour news channels?  Any idiot can do it.”

“I don’t know anything about the interviewee.”

“Just read my list of questions and you’ll be fine.”

That’s how I ended up at the office of Christian Sexel, CEO of Sexel Industries.  I had no idea who he was or what he did.  I sat in the waiting room, nervously shuffling through index cards.  I tried to think of a game plan, but all I could think about were two words: holy and crap.

“Mr. Sexel will see you now.”

I gathered up my things and headed for his office.  I just hoped I could read Kacie’s handwriting.

The man who greeted my at the door was a Greek god.  Heart attack.  He had flowing blonde hair, baby blue eyes, and a jaw like a brick shit house.  When he shook my hand, it sent a quiver down my spine.  I think I had a little bit of an orgasm.  Holy Freakin’ Crap!

“Hi, I’m Christian Sexel.  You are...”  He looked at his hand.   “Ms Steele?”

It took me a minute, but I finally remembered my name.  “That’s my roommate.  My name is Titanium.  Anatolia Titanium.”

“If you say so.”

“Titanium is much stronger than steel,” I added bashfully.

“OK.”

He showed me to an expensive leather sofa, while he sat down in the matching chair.  I fumbled with my tape recorder.  How the crap do  you work this thing?

“What kind of business do you run?”  I asked.

“I invest in companies that preserve wildlife, protect seals, save baby dolphins, that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there were companies like that.  Are you passionate about saving animals?”

“It’s one of the things I’m passionate about.”  His eyebrows jumped up and down like Groucho Marx.

I scanned my notes for the next question.  “It says here you were an orphan and that your puppy died recently.  How do you think that affects your level of sexual attractiveness?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Are you gay?”

“No, Ms Titanium, I’m not.”  His voice was stern. 

Blimey.  What the jumpin’ jack crap have I done?  “Sorry, it says here that you are.”  I couldn’t believe he said my name.  My heart rate quickened.  Unconsciously, I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse.  I started to drool a little.

When he found out I didn’t know anything about him, and that I had misrepresented myself, he had security escort me out of the building.

That night I picked up a shift at Barney’s.  I tried my best to forget the disaster of the afternoon, but it overwhelmed my thoughts.  I drifted through my shift in a daze.  Then I looked up, and he was there.

“What are you doing here?”  I couldn’t believe it was him.  At first, I thought he was a figment of my imagination. 

“I was in the neighborhood and I needed a few things.”   He looked down at a shopping list.  “Let’s see, I need rope, leather straps, a ball gag...”

“This is a grocery store.”

“Why don’t you show me around.  We can start in Pet Supplies.”

Holy crap!

If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy The Oiliest Secret, the satirical Dinosaur Ghost, orThe Zombie Bocephus.

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