The Perfect Cherry

[bodwen]

The following is a work of fiction.  Any similiarity between this story and another is purely coincedental.  Because no respectable writer worth her salt would lift characters and plotpoints from a living writer.  That's just reprehensible and such conduct would surely earn scorn of the whole of the literary world. 

Just kidding, it's a work of parody.  I can totally do this and if someone tries to sue me it will just make me rich and famous.

The Perfect Cherry

A work of Fanfic

   I was running as fast as I could through the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan, dodging pedestrians and hopping over any rain soaked debris that stood in my path as fast as my rubber boots would carry me.  I had a full submission clenched in my soggy little paws, which had to be delivered by noon and according to the big clock ahead I had only six minutes.  Six minutes to get through a door, sprint through a lobby, find an elevator, scratch and claw my way into said elevator, ride it to floor whatever, and drop this manuscript into the hands of one Christian Grey, publishing tycoon extraordinaire before noon, or the poor sad thing would be rejected on a technically with no chance of moving forward in the Grey’s Next Big Thing Award for literary excellence.
   The kicker is that this wasn’t even my manuscript.
   It belonged to my BFF, Cherry, who should have snail mailed it days ago except that a freak Zumba accident had rendered her bedridden in our four-star hotel suite all week.  So I waited for a break in her distressed sobbing to offer to drop it off for her.  After all, it was her rich-ass parents that were paying for this trip to the Big Apple, and so far I was the only one who was having any fun.  Cherry immediately brightened up and after thanking me profusely, informed me that I had to get it there by noon.
This was three miles and forty-five minutes ago.
   Damn it, Cherry, that’s cutting it awful close!
But running and bobbing through the streets of Manhattan is a lot better than having to listen to Cherry cry for the next twenty years about how she could have been the Next Big Thing if only someone had managed to get her finalist packet in on time...
  Oh, hell.  I’m always happy to do a favor for a friend.  So long as they remember they owe me one in return.
So with that, I flung myself through the glass doors of the flagship building for Grey Enterprises and ran like a fiend through the sandstone lobby.  A perky blonde attendant looked up with a critical eye at the ill fit of Cherry’s imported raincoat and wrap dress.
  Hey, I pack light when I’m supposed to be on vacation.
  “I have a contest entry,” I panted.
  “The Next Big Thing?”
  I nodded, my heart still racing.
  “Mr. Grey is accepting entries through that door on the left.
  No elevator?  Hallelujah!  I might actually make the deadline with a few minutes to spare.
  I started walking and the blonde gave me a cross look.  “You need to sign in.”
  “I’m…just… dropping this down the hall.”
  Her eyes darken.  “You need to sign in and show me a picture ID.  Mr. Grey is not kind to people who disrespect his rules.”
  Fair enough.  I handed her my drivers license, picked up a pen, and scrawled my name on the clipboard.
  “Your parents named you Fannie?”
  I sighed. “Sadly enough.”
  “The return address on your package says Cherry Bentley.”
  “I’m delivering it for a friend.”
  “Mr. Grey was very specific that only the contest entrants are allowed to deliver their entries to him in person.”
  “And by friend, I mean pen name.  I like to think of my writing persona as a separate entity,” I dropped my voice.  “We writers are weird like that.”
  She accepted this without question.  “Go in.”  She glanced at the dainty gold watch on her wrist. “But hurry.  That package needs to be in his hands within the next forty-five seconds or you’re disqualified.”
  I scooped up the package and ran as fast as my legs would carry me to the door she had indicated.  The floor inside was made of heavily waxed cherry-cola hardwood which, I mention only because my wet boots lifted off like rockets the second they made contact with it and I went flying like a carom across full length of the room until I crashed feet first into an antique credenza, with my coat trailed behind me, my skirt up around my neck, and the pages of Cherry’s manuscript raining down on me like tickertape.
  I pushed the skirt down in a belated attempt to hide my Hello Kitty panties, and looked up at the clock.
  12:01.  Damn.
  The astonishingly young man at the desk steepled his fingers and eyeballed me without amusement.
  “That is certainly one way to get my attention.”

[To Be Continued]

[eallen99]

    " I pushed the skirt down in a belated attempt to hide my Hello Kitty panties, and looked up at the clock."

You effing kill me!  Especially the Hello Kitty panties! OMG!

Well done!

[bodwen]

  In a minute Christian Grey is up from his desk and gently helping me to my feet.  Damn he was young.  Way too young for likes of me, but given that the he was the head of one of the big seven publishing companies, I was expecting someone shaped like a bald Prius-C with back hair.  Grey looked exactly like the glittery vampire guy from that movie.  Same intense gray eyes, same pearly skin, same hair that alternated between bronze and dark auburn depending on the setting.  Like I said, not my type.  But I could understand the appeal.
  "Cherry Bentley, I presume?"
  I flushed bright red.  "Um, sure.  How did you know?"
  "Yours is the only entry of the ten semifinalists that I hadn't received before the deadline."
  "Oh," my flush darkened.  "I don't suppose you'll let me have a five minute extension."
  His hand brushed my wrist, discharging a static shock that made me yelp.  He smiled and returned to his desk.  "Have a seat Miss Bentley."
  I looked around the room.  He was occupying the only chair.  "I think I'll stand, if that's ok with you."
  The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.  Maybe in amusement.  Or maybe he had gas.  Fortunately I couldn't tell which at that distance.
  “Um…about the extension?”
  “I’ll consider it,” he said, his voice as silky as his gray tie.  “Normally I don’t reward people who ignore my deadlines and waste my time.  But given your charming entrance, I may make an exception. Just this once.”
  “Er…thanks.” I said and blushed cherry-slurpee color while bowing like a geisha.
  “Give me your number and I’ll call you in a few days when I’ve decided.”
  Oh, great, now I’d have to remember to answer the phone as Cherry for the next few days until he decided to get back to me.  And given Cherry’s experiences with literary agents, a few days could easily stretch into six months or more.
  “Um, my phone is kind of flaky.  How about if we pick a date and I can call you.”
  His eyes clouded, then as quick as a lynx he pounced and grabbed my cellphone out of my pocket.  “Very well, Miss Bentley, we’ll do it your way for now.”
  “What are you doing?” I said.  My face glowing like a neon fire hydrant.
  “I’m putting my number in your phone so you'll be able to reach me… Hmm… DAD, MOM, WORK… you don’t have a lot of close friends, do you?”
  It took all my willpower to keep from snatching my phone from his hand and sending my kneecap flying into the general vicinity of creepazoid’s nutsack, but just in time I remembered I was representing the real Cherry Bentley in this conversation.  So unless I wanted to walk back to Washington State, I’d better give her a fair shot at actually winning this thing.  So I blushed instead.
  “Um, it’s a new phone.  And I prefer to text my friends via Facebook.”  Oh crap.  If he looked at Cherry Bentley’s page and saw her profile photo with its big green eyes and strawberry-blonde tendrils before I had a chance to call her to get her to take it down, she’d be disqualified for sure.  Fortunately, the door cracked open and the blonde entered with a note in her hand.
  “Stacy called and left a message.”
  “Read it to me,” he said.
  “It’s personal, sir.”
  He gave a steely look and pursed his lips.  “Read it anyway.”
  The blonde rolled her eyes:  “You stupid piece of slime.  You ate the last of the pesto.  Pick me up some fresh basil on the way home, toad, and if you forget to buy organic, you’ll be sitting on a pillow for the rest of the week.”
  Grey smiled sheepishly.  “Thank you.  That will be all.”
  Phew.  This Addam’s family reject already had a freaky ass partner.  “Um, your wife sounds like a strong woman. I admire that.”
  “Stacy’s not my wife.  Stacy’s not my girlfriend either.”
  I pondered this for a minute before it dawned on me.  The hair, the suit, the meticulously clean office.  “Oh, right, I forgot Stacy is a man’s name too.”  I gave him a wink and a nudge.  “I guess having to sit on a pillow for a week might not always be a bad thing.”
  His face went whiter.  I realized I’d just blown it.  And not in a good way.
  “Did you just accuse me of being gay?”
  I blushed the color of a red velvet cupcake, only without all the cream cheese frosting.  “I…um.. I… I don’t judge people.  I just deliver manuscripts.”
  He slammed my phone back into my pocket.  “Get out of here.  Now.  For your own safety.”
  I turned and started to flee to the exit.
  “Oh, and Miss Bentley.  Tomorrow at 3:00pm.”
  “Huh?  What?”
  “Call me tomorrow at 3:00pm and I’ll let you know if I decided to let you through to the next round.”
  I smiled shyly and kept walking, never so relieved to get out of a building in my life.  Jesus Christ what a weirdo!  But after 3:00pm tomorrow, he’d be Cherry’s problem, not mine.  I gave her a quick call to warn her to take down her facebook page and promised to tell her the rest of the sordid tale as soon as I made it back to the hotel.

[lexcade]

omg i love you. so much.

[bodwen]

  The real Cherry sat on her bed in a chemise and booty shorts and painted her toenails, while I changed into a tee-shirt and jeans.  Her horrific sprains from the Zumba accident seemed to clear up magically in my absence.  Remarkable, considering that while I was leaving she acted as if she was not long for this world.  But now that the disaster was averted, she happily uncorked her third bottle of wine zinfandel while she listened to my story and waited for her toenails to dry.
  Typical Cherry.  I was starting to see that she was simply allergic to not having a maidservant.
***
  Okay, I can see how this might start to get confusing or annoying that she’s Cherry, and I’m Cherry and it might be hard to keep track since you’ve only seen my real name, Fannie, just the once.  And this tale is just beginning so I’m going to have to assign some consistent labeling so you can keep us straight.  So from this point onward: I’m Fannie, she’s Cherry, and the charade that we’ll both be perpetrating will be referred to as Cherry-Fannie.
****
No, wait.  That’s just not right, since it might conjure up images of a beet-red ass.  And while some of you might find the idea of a perpetually red behind (like some sort of human baboon butt) only enhances your enjoyment of the tale, it might prove too much of a distraction.  So I think we should switch it up and go with Fannie-Cherry.
***
  On second thought, no we shouldn’t.
***
  Let’s try this again:  I’m Fannie, we’ll take turns being Cherry, and from this point onward, the one true Cherry will be Shari, which is short for Sharon, which is the name she was born with but she begs people never to call her.  But as I’ve said before, she owes me big time.
***
Now back to the story.  We left off with Shari sitting up on the bed with a glass of zin in her hand and Kleenex between her toes as I told her of my adventures with Grey.  She listened in silence and when I was done she gave me a sad pout.  “Why didn’t you try harder to get him to accept my manuscript?”
  I threw my hands into the air.  “Hell, I don’t know!  Maybe it had something to do with the fact I was too busy having my personal space totally violated by some psychotic homophobe after careening around like a pinball.  I doubt I was seriously injured in the fall, but thanks for asking.  And by the way?  You’re welcome!”
  Shari shrugged and sipped her Zin.  “You know, you’d have a lot better chance at keeping a boyfriend for more than three months if you manage to put a cork in all that sarcasm.”
  “Screw that.  This is the 21st century.  If a man can’t handle a woman with a mind of her own, then he’s of no use to me.”
  Shari shook her head.  “That’s all well in good in the far distant future, but in the meanwhile I’m going to need for you cultivate some charm so we can win over a certain Mr. Christian Grey.”
  I tossed her my phone.  “Not so distant. He wants me to call him tomorrow at 3:00pm.”
 She smiled. “Excellent.  You’re not to say a word to him.”
  “I thought you wanted me to win him over.”
  “Your best shot of winning people over is by not speaking to them.  In fact,” she put my phone to her ear. “I think it’s time for a little good old fashioned damage control.”
  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.  This man seems to have major control issues and he’s pretty anal about punctuality.  If he said to call at 3:00pm tomorrow, I’d call at exactly 3:00pm tomorrow.”
  Shari held out the bottle and I held out a glass for her to fill. “Watch and learn, junior, watch and learn.”  Her face took on a dopey smile and she spoke in a funny voice that I swear sounded nothing like me. “Hello, Mr. Grey.  This is Cherry.  Cherry Bentley.”  Her smile drooped a bit.  “Yes, I know we agreed to talk tomorrow, but I just wanted to apologize for anything I might have said and done to offend you and to thank for this amazing opportunity.  Writing for Grey Matters Press has always been my biggest dream.  In fact, last year’s winning novel totally changed my life and gave me hope that a major house shares my tastes and love of high caliber writing.”  Her smile vanished altogether.  “Which character was my favorite?  Wow…there were so many great characters in that book, I couldn’t possibly pick just one.” 
  She clapped her hand over the receiver and stared at me with a pleading expression, but I couldn’t help her since I hadn’t read it either, so I just smirked as I sipped my wine.
  “Well, if I can only pick one, I’ll have to pick the protagonist since she's strong yet sympathetic, and I found myself drawn in to the story since she was so easy to relate to.” She slapped her forehead. “Yes, I meant he was easy to relate to.  I apologize, it’s been a while since I read it.  Yes, I know it came out two months ago but that's actually a pretty long time for me.  Can I call you back?  Oh, right, tomorrow at 3:00pm.  Thank you so much for—“  Her hand with the phone sagged to the bed and she buried her face.
  “That was pretty smooth,” I admitted.
  “Oh, shut up.”  She said and then her shoulders shook as she started weeping.  “I have to make it to the next round.  If I don’t, I’ll die.  I really will.”
  I came over and took the wine from her hand.  And as she collapsed in sobs her skin took on a bloodless pallor and I knew that she meant it.
Not that there was anything I could do to fix this.  For better or worse, the fate of my very best friend in the whole world lay in the whims of a madman.

[lexcade]

LMAO @ Grey Matters Press.

Bodwen, you are a genius.

[bodwen]

  By the time dawn broke, Shari was a complete wreck.  Her listless form sprawled in a frilly white flannel nightgown that perfectly matched her ghostly pallor.  Even her light gold locks were dulled by her browsweat and the moisture of the damp washcloths I'd placed on her brow as a cold compress.
  "Tis no use trying to cheer me, Fannie. I had Christian Grey on the phone.  And I choked."
  "Hey, maybe he's into choking?"  I said helpfully.
  She moaned and her eyes rolled up so I could only see the whites.  My god, I'd never seen her this bad before.  I wasn't sure if it was possible to die of terminal hypochondria, but I wasn't just going to stand around and find out.  I reached for the hotel phone and asked room service to bring up an Xtra large pepperoni pizza, stat.  If she was too far gone to sneak a slice, I’d know the end was near.
The bellhop they sent up was pretty hot, in a varsity football sort of way.  I led him into Shari's room where she languished with one wrist draped tragically across her forehead.  But then she took one look and Enrique, the bellhop, and the roses returned to her cheeks and she sat straight up.
  "Did someone order extra sausage?" she purred in her best porno voice.
  Enrique paused for just a second before tossing off his cap.
  "I'll be in the other room if you need me." I doubt either of them heard it.
  For the next four hours I was subjected to moaning of an entirely different sort.  Satisfied she was cured, I took a short nap on the couch.  Only to awaken and find Shari back in her white flannel nightgown, in the same pose she was before, up-flung arm and all.
  “Oh, for crying out loud!”
  Seemed now she was both forlorn and lovelorn.  I called Enrique.  “I don’t suppose you’ve got another pizza handy?”
  “No pizza,” Shari moaned.  “I require chocolate.”
  “It will be my pleasure,” Enrique said.  "I'll be right up."
  I decided to spare myself the encore by vacating the suite before he got there. 
  I opened the door and let out a little scream as I saw Christian Grey standing in the doorway like the angel of death.
  “I told you not to call me until 3:00pm, Miss Bentley.”
  “Sorry.  I guess I got carried away in all the excitement.”  That brought a faint smile to his face.  “How did you know I was here?”
  “I searched for your itinerary.  I own a significant share of this hotel as well half of the others in the city.”
  “I certainly hope for your sake you own half the police force as well.”
  His eyes became stormy.  I wanted to leave, but he was blocking the doorway.  And I certainly wasn’t going to retreat back into the suite with only a semicatatonic drama queen for backup.
  “You are a paradox to me, Cherry Bentley, and if there is one thing I hate more than anything in world it’s a paradox.” Then, in some inexplicable mood swing, he grinned like a schoolboy and handed me a slim package in gray wrapping.  “I brought you a gift,”
  I unwrapped it to the sound of his mouthbreathing.  "Last Tango in Paris.  Thanks, but I’ve already seen it.”
  “As have I.  Many times.  You’re to watch it again tonight.  At exactly 9:00pm.  I will do the same.”
  I withered under his creepy Christopher Walken stare.  “Look, I don’t know what sort of person you think I am--”
  “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.  You want to do this.” He said as he gave me an icy serial killer stare.  He wasn’t so much undressing me with his eyes as he was ripping my clothing to ribbons with a pair of ocular box cutters.
  I shuddered and thrust the DVD into his chest.  “Thanks for stopping by.  But I’m leaving now.  To go somewhere very public and well-lit.”
  “You are free to walk away at any time.”
  Except, technically I couldn’t walk away since he was still blocking the doorway.
   “Would you like to get some coffee, Miss Bentley?”
  Not in a million years.
  But I could see Enrique approaching down the hall with a bouquet of roses in one hand a bottle of Hershey’s chocolate syrup in the other.  The whole situation was uncomfortable enough with my having to explain the second Cherry Bentley to a man with the power to destroy all her dreams.
  “Yes.  Coffee sounds good right about now.” I said, pulling him in the other direction.
  God damn it, Shari, I thought, I'm throwing myself on a grenade the size of Nagasaki.

[lexcade]

BWAHAHAHA this is the best installment yet! I want to shower you with gifts. You don't have to accept them. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. But you want to accept them.

[bodwen]

Thanks.  I'll probably end up stuck soon, since I can't figure out a scenario when a woman regains consciousness in a bed with a strange man in it that doesn't involve her beating him over the head with a table lamp.

[ChokeCherry]

  I'm loving this!  I so hope you don't get stuck (easy to say, when I'm not writing anything )

BUT I've got an idea to avoid the table lamp  (this comes from a family I once knew who had a phobia about their child hurting themselves in the apartment - disturbing really.) Everything is screwed down or wrapped in bubble pack. Although I wonder how that would work in Grey's 'play room'. All in bubblepack... hmmmm...

[bodwen]

That's genius!  Thanks!   

[lexcade]

bwahahaha or she likens it to a scene in some novel she read. 

[bodwen]

  Christian Grey tried to hold my hand on the way to the coffee shop, so I made a point of coughing into the both of them as loud as I could.  When we got the Starbuck’s he ordered a blueberry muffin and a latte.  I told the barista I take it large, strong, and black--just like my men.  Crap.  I should have said boyfriend.  Christian Grey didn’t seem to hear me in any case.
  “So how’s Stacy?”  I said once we’d taken our seats.
  “Incensed.  The basil I bought her last night wasn’t fresh enough.”
  “I see you’re sitting down okay.”
  “Stacy isn’t my girlfriend.”
  “So you said.”  I sipped my coffee.
  “She’s my seventh grade history teacher.”  He smiled sheepishly. “We’ve stayed in touch.”
  “Aw, that’s sweet.”
  “And by staying in touch, I mean, I’m still boning her.”   
  I swallowed quckly to keep from choking.  Wow.  Time to talk about something else.  “I have a confession to make.  I didn't really read that book we talked about yesterday.”
  “That’s ok, I didn’t read it either.”
  “Oh.” I said and started looking around the shop for anything that might give me an excuse to avoid eye contact.
  He tore off a bit of the muffin with his finger and then pushed the rest of it towards me.
  “Eat,” he commanded.
  I pushed it back at him.  “If I wanted a muffin I would have asked for a muffin.”
  “Eat it anyway.”
  “No.  I’m not finishing your muffin. That’s just nasty.”
  “Eat.  You’re too thin.”
  “What are you, my grandmother?  I'm not a garabage disposal.  If you didn’t want it, you shouldn't have bought it.”
  “You seem to blush an awful lot, Miss Bentley.  I wish I could see what you’re thinking about.”  His hand was crawling like an itsy-bitsy spider towards mine.  I scooted in my seat until I was as far from him as possible.
  “High blood pressure,” I said. 
  “No.  It’s because I intimidate you.  It’s ok to be intimidated by me.  I’m going to hurt you.  I’m going to tie you up and demean you, and then I’m going to hurt you.  I’ve wanted to hurt you ever since you accused me of being gay.”
  I glanced around at the other patrons, most of whom stared slackjawed at Grey from their laptops, but a few of the older women were licking their chops.
  “You do realize that we're in a room full of witnesses?”
  “I’m not going to do it here.  Besides.  I never tie someone up on the first date.”
  I jumped out of my seat.  “Whoa, whoa, time out!  We are not on a date!”
  “I asked you out.  You agreed.  I paid for your drink.  How is this not a date?”
  “Starbucks is not a date.  Starbucks is a predate screening.  People don’t go to Starbucks to have fun.  They go there to discuss business.  I could go to Starbucks with my boss after my shift ends, and if his wife walked in, we wouldn’t have to explain.  You could go to Starbucks with another dude, and nobody would think the two of you will be getting freaky later.”
  Grey's eyes became thunder. “Why are you so obsessed with the inner workings of my anus?”
  I backed away, reaching into my purse and tossing him three dollars.  “Here.  For the coffee.   Get help.”
  “Wait.” He said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a roll of papers.  “I have something for you to sign.”
  I saw the words Cherry Bentley in bold letters.  I paused.  “Is this a contract?” 
  “It is.”
  So there it was.  All of Shari’s hopes and dreams printed out in triplicate. All I had to do was snatch the thing from the table. 
  I approached, as timid as a bird, and picked up the contract.  For a moment the seediness was completely overrode by my dreams of being an angel of pure goodness, able to grant my friends’ every dreams with my sass and winning personality.  But then my eyes fell across the words “anal-fisting” and I felt the blood drain from my face.
  “So let me get this straight.  If I want my book published, I have to get freaky with you?”
  “Who said anything about getting your book published?” 
  I threw down the form and ran for the door.
  “Miss Bentley, I haven’t given you permission to run from me!  Cherry!  Get back here! Now!”
  I ran faster.  So fast in fact that I misjudged the length of the sidewalk and found myself sprawling into the street, directly in the path of a speeding taxicab, which blasted its horn at me, but made no effort to slow down.
  I saw my life flash before my eyes, before I was yanked back suddenly.  I could fear a rush of air from the taxicab that had missed me by mere inches and found myself in the arms of Christian Grey.
  He smelled of fresh linen and expensive body wash, with a faint undercurrent of the skunk-like adrenaline that the college police warn us to be on the lookout for, since it’s the hallmark of a predator.  I allowed myself to be held like this until the shock wore off and I was able to breathe normally again.
  “I think it’s safe," I said  "You can take your hand off my ass now.”

[To be continued]

[lexcade]

This is so much better than the actual book. 

You continue to amaze me with each installment.

[eallen99]

The line "but a few of the older women were licking their chops" was not lost on me! That is beyond hilarious.

You continue to impress the hell out of me!