Fifty Shades Nastier

by Lardyard Hampoon

  Fifty Shades Nastier

  An Intensely Funny Parody

  That No Respectable Person Should Read

  By Lardyard Hampoon

  ©2012 by Brian and Terry Lynch.

  All rights reserved.

  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to any real persons, living, or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. This work is in no way associated with “Fifty Shades of Grey” nor is it sanctioned by that book’s author, E.L. James, or her publisher.

  Fifty Shades Nastier An Intensely Funny Parody

  by Lardyard Hampoon,

  1st edition, Oct. 2012

  Foot Drop Publishing

  Chapter 1

  I glare at my reflection in the mirror as I try to control my hair. No matter how much I beat it back with my brush, it refuses to submit to my will. The strands have an overbearing need to fall in kinky locks around my face. And so this tale goes.

  I wouldn’t have to worry about my hair if my roommate, rich San Fernando Valley beauty Katherine Calvinawe, wasn’t heaving into the toilet right now. It’s a damn inconvenient time for her to have a hangover. I have a paper to write and exams to study for. Instead, I’ll be driving all the way to Seattle just to interview some handsome, billionaire bachelor for Kath’s article for the college paper. The crap I do for her! She’s lucky I’m so nice.

  “Nasty, you are, like, a doll to do this interview for me?”

  “Kath, anything to help you get better. Just, next time, take it easier on the Dom Perignon.”

  She smiled wryly at me. What a strange choice of words. Did I mean wryly “crooked” or wryly “perverted?” I must mean “crooked.” I’m not capable of such subtle foreshadowing. Oh dear. There’s that word “foreshadowing.” The “fore” part makes my mind stray to so many intriguing places: foreplay, foreskin, fornicate…

  That’s the trouble with being an 18th Century Russian Literature major. You are always thinking about words and related words. I wish I could find something – anything – to take my mind off words!

  I drive past all the lovely gardens and quirky shops of Vancouver without noticing them. All I can think about is how much I dread the interview ahead. I know nothing about Unitarian Green except that he’s single, incredibly rich, amazingly handsome, and a benefactor of our university.

  Kath said that I didn’t need to know anything. She has all the questions written down for me. I just need to ask them, tape record them and take notes while smiling appreciatively at the handsome billionaire. Man, I am so not looking forward to this.

  By the time I arrive at Green Enterprises, I’ve worked myself up into a frenzy. I’m not sure if it’s from thinking about foreplay or worrying that I’ll trip all over myself. In addition to being a noble, self-sacrificing soul who bends over backward for her roommate, I’m impossibly clumsy. The seldom-used, stiletto-heeled faux leather boots I borrowed from Kath won’t help that situation. Maybe I should have opted for my clogs. Well, too late now.

  Green Enterprises reminds me of something out of a movie. It looks like the kind of place that would have a cave and a butler named Alfred lurking about. Everything is sleek, modern, expensive and barren. I wouldn’t be surprised if the seemingly identical blonde Amazons strutting the halls in designer suits all had their tubes tied – it’s that sterile.

  When I finally find the right office, the reception desk is, of course, occupied by an aforementioned vixen. I approach her gingerly. I think she could eat me for lunch (if this was one of the weeks she allowed herself to eat).

  I muster all the appearance of confidence I can. “Hello. I’m Anastasia Lime here to see Unitarian Green.”

  She eyes me over smugly. “One moment. I’m not sure if Mr. Green is finished with his last beating…I mean, meeting.” Did I notice her judging me? Smirking at my full-length peasant skirt? These are the height of fashion in my hometown of Ithaca, NY. Though, we consider them a cultural statement rather than “fashion.” Fashion is never in fashion in Ithaca, NY.

  As she saunters away, I hear a peculiar clanking, like chains. I wonder if it is from the odd bracelets she wears on both wrists.

  She reappears in few minutes looking flushed. “Mr. Green is ready for you now. Did you sign the victim list?”

  I think she must be referring to the Visitor List. I did sign it, though I was so nervous, I spelled my name wrong. No matter, as I also managed to mar it with ink blobs, obscuring most of the letters.

  As the Amazon Vixen leads me to Unitarian Green’s office, I wonder if I should tell her she has a piece of duct tape hanging from her jaw. I decide against it. She’d likely be mortified. Still, I wonder how such a seemingly together woman can manage to get duct tape stuck to her face. She was likely sealing packages. But, even I seldom get tape on my face when sealing a box.

  Vixen takes me around the last corner, then points to the door. She scurries off, likely having more boxes to attend to. I’m not sure what I’m expected to do as the door is closed. I rap lightly on the door. No answer. I take the bold initiative of turning the handle and letting myself in – only to immediately slip on the polished marble floor and send myself sprawling spread-eagle.

  After a second of frozen shock, Mr. Green jumps up from his desk, crying out in pain as if something sensitive has smashed into his bottom desk drawer. I’ve only seen him for a second and already I’m wondering about this man’s drawers. And so the tale goes.

  Green rushes over to help me up. I am so embarrassed by all this, I flush as red as my vagina. This seems to affect Mr. Green in an odd way that I can’t quite put my finger on (at least not yet, but hang in with me for a few chapters and my fingers will be all over it).

  Once Mr. Green has assisted me to my feet, he extends his hand in formal greeting. It is a gorgeous hand. The fingers are long, thin and elegant, just like I like them! Oh, what fine appendages this gorgeous man has – I can’t help but wonder if his toes are as long and fine as his fingers. I flush, worried he can read my thoughts. I don’t want him to know I’m lusting after his fingers and toes.

  Unitarian signals that I should take a seat on the pristine, white leather sofa. The leather is so soft, so supple, I can’t help stroking it subconsciously. Unitarian clears his throat and looks at me expectantly. Crap! Holy crap! I’m supposed to be asking questions. I stop fondling the leather and rummage through my backpack for my list of questions, tape recorder and notepad.

  I ask the first question and am immediately mesmerized by Unitarian Green’s mouth. It is the perfect mouth on the perfect face. The man is not just handsome, he’s godlike in his beauty. While his sandy hair is kinky like mine, his looks good on him. His shoulders are broad and straight. His muscles ripple under his crisp white-with-hint-of-green shirt. His pants hang off his hips like a model’s.

  He steeples his perfect fingers in front of his perfect mouth with a bemused expression. Oh, crap. I’m supposed to ask another question. I can’t read the list with my face flushing so dramatically that heat waves are rising from my cheeks, obscuring my vision. I wing it, asking whatever questions come to mind. My hands are shaking so violently, Kath will never be able to read my notes. Thank goodness for the tape recorder.

  Finally my allotted time is coming to an end. I don’t think I could take much more finger steepling, head cocking and intense looks from those steamy green eyes. I mean, how much can a girl flush and swallow before she dehydrates and faints?

&nb
sp; I look down at Kath’s questions. Finally, I can read them. I look at Kath’s closing question: Are you gay, Mr. Green? Is she insane? I can’t ask him that. Sure, he’s got lots of track lighting and impeccable décor in here. And, yes, he’s more attractive than any heterosexual man I know. But you’d have to be a real idiot to believe anyone would blurt out a question like that under the circumstances. Instead, I let him know one more time how much of an arrogant control freak I think he is. Then, I stand to leave.

  As Mr. Green comes toward me to once again shake my hand with those long, fine, hairless fingers of his, he glances over to where I was sitting on the sofa. Now it is his turn to flush. There’s a big wet spot right where I was sitting. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it was right there next to some ink smudges I also hadn’t noticed. Green must be so embarrassed to have let me sit on a wet sofa. I pretend not to notice and take my leave.

  It must have been a fresh wet stain on that white leather sofa, because when I got back from Seattle, the wetness had transferred to the seat of the car. I wondered if it would be appropriate to send Mr. Green my cleaning bill?

  Chapter 2

  “So, like, how’d the interview go?” Kath was looking suspiciously healthy when I arrived back home.

  “Well, once I got over all his finger steepling and fingers brushing against lips and such, it went okay, I guess.”

  Kath knew my weakness for long, elegant fingers. “So, he was, like, as good looking as they say?”

  “He was about 27 flushes 14 swallows good looking.”

  “Wow!”

  “Yeah. I was so distracted, I couldn’t read all your questions. I had to wing it.”

  “Nasty, do you know you have, like, a big wet spot on the back of your dumpy, old skirt?”

  “Yes. Can you believe it? His leather couch had one spot on it and I had to plop down on top of it. I think it soaked clear through to my undies.”

  Kath gave me a strange look then retreated to her room with the tape recorder for transcription. An hour later she came out with an even stranger look on her face.

  “Nasty, like, how am I going to make an article out of this? You two were, like, all over each other?” Kath’s face was so scornful it had flushed bright red.

  “I told you I had to wing it. What about that bit about his company’s name?”

  “When you, like, asked him if he lucked into making money because the green movement was so popular?”

  “Yes.”

  “First, I, like, can’t believe you had the b-alls to ask that? Second, his answer was a threat to spank you?”

  Kath was rolling her eyes. There’s a lot of eye rolling and flushing around these days. Maybe something in the water is causing it.

  “I think, like, Green asked you more questions than you asked him?”

  “Really?”

  “Umm, yea-ah! He asked you your major, then he asked if your choice of major had, like, anything to do with your name?”

  “I didn’t get the connection between my name and my major. I’m pretty sure there aren’t any important Russians named Lime.”

  “And he, like, offered you a job?”

  “Well, it’s not like I’m going to go work someplace where I have to bleach my hair blonde and get my tubes tied. I want to go into publishing. I can’t think of anything more exciting than working in an industry experiencing its death throes.”

  “When you told him to call you Nasty rather than Anastasia, it, like, sounded like he did a spit take?”

  “He did spit water out all over his papers.” I was so jealous of those papers. I imagined him spitting water all over me. It made me feel all tight inside – a feeling I’ve never had before.

  Kath stared at me in exasperation.

  “Look, if you need some filler info for your article, I’m sure I can come up with a lot of stuff describing his clothes and his fingers…but, not right now ‘cuz I’m late for work.”

  I work at Clitter’s, the area’s leading pet store. That night, work was pretty much the usual. My friend Hoseme came in to leer at me as I cleaned pet cages and Mr. Clitter’s son, Oris, tried to feel me up in the stock room. Same old, same old – I guess I wore my tightest baggy jeans for nothing.

  The next day was different. I was putting drops in a cat’s eyes when I see this kind of ordinary man with short, stubby fingers who looks kinda familiar. Then I realize it’s Unitarian Green! I blink to clear my vision and see that my original glimpse was wrong. He is drop dead gorgeous and has long, slender, fingers – and toes! He’s wearing sandals!

  He has traded his sexy, slightly greenish suit for sexy, slightly greenish pants that cling to his hips. And he’s walking straight over to me!

  “Ms. Lime, so good to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Green.”

  “Ms. Lime, I’m young and single. You can call me Master Green.”

  “Of course, Master Green. Would you like to pet my pussy?” I offer him the cat in my hands.

  “Why, yes, I’d enjoy that. Can you hold its paws down while I do? Wouldn’t want it scratching me, now, would I?”

  Unitarian stroked the pussy oh-so-suggestively, doing his best to emphsize the length, grace and slenderness of his amazing fingers.

  “Do you have any pets, Master Green?” I blinked up at him in a way some might call ‘fluttering the eyelids.’

  “No, but I’m thinking of getting some.”

  “Can I help you pick something out? Perhaps you’d like to start with a gerbil?”

  Green clears his throat and stares intently into my eyes. “I’ve done the gerbil thing. I’m thinking I’ll go with something bigger next time. But, today I’d just like to pick up a few collars, leashes…perhaps a training manual.”

  “If you don’t have the pets yet, it may be difficult to get you the right size…”

  “Ah, Ms. Lime. No problem there. These aren’t for me. They’ll be for…friends.”

  We spent close to a half hour selecting spiked collars, choke collars, and such. Then I really had to get back to my list of chores.

  “I’m sorry, Master Green, but I’ve really got to finish cleaning the cages before my shift is up.”

  “You clean cages, do you?”

  “That’s probably the biggest part of my job.”

  “And do you have to get inside the cages to clean them?”

  “Oh, yes. I get right in there on my hands and knees wiping up urine and feces.”

  “You are the most extraordinarily perfect woman I’ve ever met.”

  Geesh. That came out of nowhere. All I could do was stand there with my mouth agape while I unfastened the collar I’d tried on for him.

  “Ms. Lime, might I take you for a coffee when your shift ends?”

  “Uh, um, I don’t get off for an hour.”

  “I’ll be sure to come exactly when you get off.” He smiled as if he was somehow pleased with himself for delivering that line so slowly and deliberately. He must be one of those people who are always on time.

  “I’m not worried about you being late. I’m concerned that you’ll be wasting your time waiting for me.”

  “Nonsense. There’s a leather goods store down the block. It will take me an hour to explain my custom order to them.”

  “Well, I’ll see you back here around six then.” And you’ll be smelling of leather, I thought. I love the smell of leather.

  Unitarian Green arrived at a few minutes to six. “I’ll be good to go in just a moment. I have to take the temperature of this German Shepherd.”

  Green watched me intently as I skillfully inserted the thermometer into the dog’s rectum, stroked him to keep him calm while we waited, then pulled the thermometer out, shook it down and read it.

  “One hundred and one degrees. That’s perfect for him. I can go now. I just have to wash my hands.”

  “No, no, my dear. Let me do that for you.” Unitarian Green grabbed my wrists and began licking my hands clean, one finger at a time
.”

  “Wow. Thank you. I hope I can return the favor some day.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.” Green smiled wryly.

  Crap. My insides got tight and I flushed. I looked down at his toes, imagining “cleaning” them with my mouth, my tongue caressing each long, slender toe as Unitarian looked on with smoldering eyes. Heck, he didn’t even have any toenail fungus. In fact, I think each toenail has been carefully buffed by a skilled pedicurist. Oh, yeah, I am flushing big time.

  “There’s a coffee shop around the corner?” His eyes searched mine and he grabs my hand with his long, elegant, cool fingers.

  “Um, I should warn you, I don’t drink coffee.” I swallow and flush.

  “What sort of refreshments do you prefer?” Is he smirking at me behind that casual mask he calls a face?

  I shrug. “I usually have spring water and granola.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot. You’re from Ithaca.” Again that hint of a smirk in those impassive green eyes.

  Green pulls out an iphone and purrs into it, “Siri, I’m looking for a restaurant with spring water and granola on the menu.”

  A not unsexy woman’s voice answers, “Sprigs of watermelon and granite. I’m on it.”

  “No. Spring water and granola. Restaurant. Nearby.” Green’s voice now shows a hint of frustration.

  “Got it. Springsteen concert with Greg Allman.”

  “No!” Now Green is angry. “You stupid cunt, I’m looking for bottled water and gran-ol-a.”

  “You don’t have to get huffy, Master. Green. I’m doing my best.”

  “Not good enough!” He smashes the iphone into a million pieces against the sidewalk.

  “Come, Nasty, dear. Perhaps they’ll have spring water and granola at the coffee shop.”

  He grabs my elbow and pulls me along, seeming to take out some his Siri frustration as he yanks at me and glares at the world.

  “Master. Green, if I may, here’s a great tree.” I guide him over to the maple and I give it a big hug. “This will release your tension. C’mon. Give it a try.”