50 Shades of Whatever


Your scent assailed my nose unexpectedly, swift yet cordial. I could feel my body respond to you -- and you're not even doing anything. You were just standing there, your hands in your pocket, looking at me with a mild curiousity. But your intoxicating scent beckoned to me like a siren call; it made me want to kneel before you and worship you. I had lost control of my body. I found myself approaching you, my senses drinking up your tantalising musk.


You gave me a sly smile as you watched me approach you like a panther to its prey. You drew a red velvet box from your jacket pocket and presented it to me.

"For you," you said, your voice a purr of unbridled desire.

"What is it?" I asked, taking the box from you.

"Why don't you open it?" you responded.

I flip open the box, and on a creamy cushion of silk lay a thick solid ring of titanium, about 3 inches in diameter.

I bit my lip, my loins were on fire. "Would you like me to wear it?"

"Perhaps," you said ambigously.


You leaned closer to me, your breath moistening my quivering lips. I waited for you to touch your lips to mine, but you hovered just inches from my mouth.

"Kiss me," I implored you, feeling an insistent heat climbing through my body.

"Not yet," you murmured, touching my wet lower lip with your thumb.

I closed my lips over your thumb and gently suckled on it. I lock my gaze on you.

You stared back with your steel blue eyes, watching me gently suckle your thumb.

Hot Soup

"I'm getting hungry," I said, giving your thumb one last slurp as you withdrew.

"I have minestrone heating up in a pot," you said, never taking your eyes off me. "Would you like some?"

I nooded, still biting my lip.

You went to the stove and ladled me a cup of the steaming broth. I took the cup from you and noisily drank the soup, my eyes still locked on you.

"This is delicious," I said.

"My mother's recipe," you said, shrugging. "Would you like some more?"

"Please," I said. You ladled some more soup into the cup and handed it to me. I drank it all down, slurping and gulping deliberately. I licked my lips at you as I set the empty cup on the table.

Cat purring

"Come with me," you said, taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom.

Your black cat Lestat was sleeping on your bed. You chuckled softly as you scooped him up.

"What a beautiful cat!" I said.

"A rare Persian," you said, your hand sensously stroking his luxuriant fur. "Would you like to touch him?"

"If the cat doesn't mind," I said.

You gently handed me the purring feline. Lestat curled up in my arms as I cradled him. I could feel his body vibrating loudly, his purr loud and content.

A Storm

I gently laid Lestat down on the floor and joined you on bed. Outside your window, I can hear the thunder crashing and the wind lashing the rain against the glass.

"It will be a long night," you murmured, pulling me close to you.

"I hope so," I smiled, undoing the buttons of your light blue shirt. Your musky scent rose from the warmth of your wondrous fuzzy chest. I bit my lip as my hand entered the fold of your shirt.

I heard your low growl. "Come here!" you commanded.

You brought your lips against mine as lightning flashed brilliantly outside, followed by a deafening rumble of thunder.

Ergonomic Keyboard

Oh, how I love your fingers on me!

It's really nice to type on you. Expensive as fuck, but boy, your keys are so buttery soft.

And didn't I relieve you of your repetitive strain injury?

Very much so! You're just a tad wide though.

Sorry, I can't help it. I just gotta have my home keys and my keypad.

It would have been great if you didn't. Then I wouldn't have to constantly adjust my typing position, let alone grab my mouse on that far end.

I'm not perfect. But I know you still love me more than that Microsoft Sculpt Ergonomic Keyboard gathering dust on your shelf.

Well, Microsoft makes crappy products.

I know. And I make your typing so much faster and efficient. Especially writing this story.

Dining Room Chair

I know you've been thinking of ways to get rid of me.

I'm not denying it.

You think that I'm so cheaply made that my upholstery was in tatters in just a couple of years after you got me.

You were made in China. What else is there to say?

But I implore you to keep me a while longer. I promise to be sturdy and strong while you sit on me.

I fear I might fall down if I sit on you. And you're ugly as fuck.

But you've been shopping on Amazon for seat covers. That means you still like me!

I wouldn't say that. I wanted to cover you up because you're just so fucking ugly.

You're hurting my feelings.

You're a chair. You're kindling.

Hairy Conversation

Hello hair. How are we doing today?

I'm feeling very fragile today.

Oh yeah? How so?

You subjected me to a rather harsh Japanese perm! That was quite a shock to the system!

Well, you haven't been behaving lately, and I hate how limp and lazy your body is.

Well I hate you too for treating me this way. I'm your crown and glory!

Crown and glory my ass -- you are starting to turn this ugly shade of cigarette ash! It's distasteful!

It's not my fault I'm losing my colour! You should try being me!

I suppose it's not your fault you're limp and lazy too?

What can I do? I'm thick and course, and I can be whatever I fucking want!

And so can I! I've let you grow long and limp far too long. It was time for a makeover!

But I got fried! I've become wet noodles! I'm worse than ramen!

Don't be a drama queen. You'll be fine. You'll get over it.

Oh what am I going to do? I'm so dry the Sahara can cry tears! I'm flaking more than a snowstorm in Saskatchewan! Poor me!

You're so needy! You sound like you're always a separate entity!

I AM a separate entity! I have a mind of my own!

That's not surprising. I always need to get you under control!

You're worse than a fascist scum! You will never be the boss of me!

I think you better start behaving before I decide to shave you down to the scalp! How do you like that?

Oh woe is me! Now I'm being threatened with a buzz cut! How horrible!