Sunday, December 6, 2015

Fifty Shades of Parody (Chapter 25)

"Now can we talk, Ana?"
     "Sorry, mom," I say. "Gotta go." 
     I make my way to the bus stop, although "bus stop" is a bit of a misnomer. El Paso is building a trolley system it doesn't need for people who don't want it. Today, however, it comes in handy.
     I sit on the bench and wait for the trolley to make its stop. And I wait. And I wait. I don't know what's taking so long.
     "It's because the trolley system is still under construction, as in 'not finished yet,'" Christian informs me when I write him on my DingleBerry to complain.
     And then he writes:
 
Stay where you are. I'll send Crockett right over.
 
     And I write back:
 
But I don't know where I'm at.

 
     "Not a problem," Christian tells me, and then signs off.
     Well, I guess I'll be here for an even longer while than I've already been here already. There's no way Crockett will be able to find me in a city this large. It would be like finding the proverbial needle in the proverbial haystack proverbially. My stomach rumbles. I should have eaten something. I'm in for a long wait.
     Crockett pulls up and stops right in front of me.
     "Need a ride, Miss Steele?"
     I just sit there, mouth agape.
     "How did you find me?" I ask him, stupefied.
     "Your GPS transmitter," he tells me, quite matter-of-factly.
     "My GPS transmitter? I don't have a GPS transmitter," I say.
     "Sure you do," he insists. "Christian had it inserted one night when you were... Hey! Look at that!"
     "Look at what?"
     "Oh, nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Steele, I have to concentrate on my driving."
     "Please, Crockett. Call me Ana."
     "No."
     "Okay."
     Twenty-five minutes later, he drops me off at Christian's. Christian's back is to me and I can see that he is on an important business call.
     "Our Joe wants to know," I overhear him saying, "if your Joe will lend our Joe your Joe's banjo. If your Joe won't lend our Joe your Joe's banjo, our Joe won't lend your Joe our Joe's banjo..." Christian turns around and sees me. He smiles. "...when our Joe has a banjo."
     He pauses and listens, all the while his eyes not leaving mine.
     "Well, keep me informed!" he yells, and hangs up.
     Putting down the phone, he walks over and takes me in his arms.
     "I missed you," he tells me.
     "I missed you," I tell him.
     "I missed you more," he tells me back.
     "I missed you more," I tell him back.
     "No, I missed you more."
     "No, I missed you more."
     "No, I did."
     "No, I did."
     "I did."
     "I did."
     "No, me."
     "No, me."
     Hmm... maybe I should cut to the future by about a half hour. The thing about dating a Control Freak is that they always have to get the last word, and ding-dang-doodle if I'll let them.
      "Shower with me, Ana."
     "I haven't showered with another person since I was a toddler and my step-father was babysitting a cousin of mine. We both needed a bath, so my step-father filled up the bathtub with Mr. Bubble, sat my cousin in front of the TV set, and jumped into the tub with me. I guess that's more of a bath than a shower."
     "Is that a yes or a no?"
     "Are you saying I need a shower?"
     "I was trying not to."
     "You could have just said something."
     "I thought it would be more romantic if I asked you to shower with me."
     He undresses me, and then himself. Naked, we walk into the shower together. We get stuck in the entrance, which wasn't built to accommodate two people entering at the same time. The shower is nothing but white and stainless steel.
     "You know what I like about stainless steel?" Christian asks me.
     "What?"
     "No stains."
     "You mean like dirt and grime?"
     "Those, too."
     "You never struck me as a soap-on-a-rope kind of man, Mr. Grey," I tease him when I see a longer-than-it-is-wide soap dangling on a rope from the shower head.
     "Put your hands on the wall, Anastasia, and I'll show you what this soap-on-a-rope is for."
     I do, and he does.
     Boy, does he!
     Squeaky clean--inside and out--we exit the shower. Christian goes into his room to dress, and I go into mine. Did I tell you Christian gave me my own room in his house? If I didn't, pretend that I did.
     Once dressed, I am supposed to meet Christian in his Red Room of Pain. I have to tell you, I am very nervous. I haven't told Christian, but I'm allergic to pain. I get these red welts on my body when I'm hit.
     I go into the Red Room of Pain and kneel by the door, as instructed. My heart is in my mouth. I wonder what else I'll have in my mouth before the night is through.
     Christian comes in. He's dressed in a tuxedo. My, but he looks devilishly handsome.
     "You look lovely," he tells me.
     I blush, but, of course, he doesn't see it. Christian is not one to notice such things.
     "Stand up," he orders.
     I get shakily to my feet. I have no idea what I'm in for tonight.
     He presses a button on the stereo. I guess he likes to have music playing while he does whatever it is that he does when he does it. I wonder what will play. Bolero by Ravel? Principles of Lust by Enigma? Deep Forest by, um, Deep Forest? No, what comes on surprises the crap out of me. It's You Don't Know Me.
     Christian takes my hand in his as Ray Charles begins to sing.

You give your hand to me
And then you say hello
And I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well
But you don't know me
 
     Holding me close, we begin to dance. With a firm hand at the small of my back, he guides me from side to side, slowly, each of us melting into the other.
 
No, you don't know the one
Who dreams of you at night
And longs to kiss your lips
Longs to hold you tight
Oh, I am just a friend
That's all I've ever been
'Cause you don't know me
 
     We sway rhythmically in each other's arms. I bury my face in the nape of his neck. He smells heavenly.
 
I never knew the art of making love
No, my heart aches with love for you
Afraid and shy
I let my chance go by
The chance that you might love me, too
 
     I can feel the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms. Our movements are so in sync with each other. I wish this dance would last forever, but I know it can't.
 
You give your hand to me
And then you say goodbye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
Oh, you will never know
The one who loves you so
Well, you don't know me
   
     The song comes to an end. We stand there, both afraid to move. He doesn't seem to want to let me go. He brings his face in close to mine.
     "Why, Ana," he whispers in my ear, "you're blushing."
 
 
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogpot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  

No comments:

Post a Comment