Author Topic: The Perfect Cherry  (Read 109977 times)

Offline bodwen

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #60 on: October 11, 2014, 08:40:30 PM »
Oh, I'm still on the first.  Should I edit to "cheesy teen movie?"

Offline Pandean

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #61 on: October 12, 2014, 12:52:05 AM »
Oh, I'm still on the first.  Should I edit to "cheesy teen movie?"

I don't think it matters. But the movie's scene of it was ungodly cheesier. The book's scene was basically Charlie eating steak.
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Offline cnk521

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #62 on: October 12, 2014, 01:17:57 PM »
Karma karma karma. This is too much awesome. I haven't read either of the books this is a parody of but know enough about them that this is hilarious. Thanks for starting and continuing it.
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Offline Nostrabuttus

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #63 on: October 12, 2014, 05:27:49 PM »
This is great, Bodwen. May I tell people I know you? At least fictionally?
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Offline Missus Braidyhead

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #64 on: October 12, 2014, 09:15:37 PM »
Oh, I'm still on the first.  Should I edit to "cheesy teen movie?"

I don't think it matters. But the movie's scene of it was ungodly cheesier. The book's scene was basically Charlie eating steak.

Hmm, I think I know which book/movie you're talking about. And because it is a specific cheesy YA movie/book, I think it's fine. As long as it's not a dig at YA lit in general. :)

Offline bodwen

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #65 on: October 13, 2014, 02:57:28 PM »
  “What are we going to do?” Shari asked.
  “Let’s go find Peter,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to meet Christian Grey under happier circumstances.”
  Peter was so blitzed the night he met Christian Grey, he had no recollection how he’d ended up in the hospital.  When we described the  beatdown he was positively giddy about it and treated his plaster nose cast as a reliquary.
  “Are you sure you want to do that to Christian Grey?”
  “Christian Grey?  I’m not sure I want to do this to Peter.”
  I finally spotted Peter.  I waved and he waved back.
  Shari looked over her shoulder again.  “Oh no.”
  “Oh no what?”
  “Christian Grey has stopped following us.”
  “Why is that an oh no?”
  “Because he’s stopped to have a talk with your father and Angel Clare.”
  We did an about-face and ran over.  When we got there, my father and Christian Grey were discussing the finer points of fly fishing, which Angel stood a little off to the side, looking slightly uncomfortable.
  “If you ask me, the best fly fishing is off the coast of Australia. I use to go out there on my boat ‘The Grace.’ about twice a year in the winter time.”
  Ray whistled. “That’s an awful long sail.”
  “Well it’s an awfully big boat.  It’s not the biggest of course.  Not even in the top ten, but it does have a garden, room for my helicopter, and it’s very own a support yacht.
  Ray puffed out his cheeks and arched one eyebrow like a rabid chipmunk. “What’s a support yacht?”
  “That’s when your yacht is so big you keep a smaller yacht on its deck,” Angel said.
  “Very good,” Christian said in the patronizing tones of a father who was offered up some especially ugly macaroni art for the fridge. “So what kind of boat do you own?”
  “I don’t own a boat,” Angel said.
  “That’s right,” I tugged Angel by the arm. “Not everyone has money to squander on their own personal cruise ship. Nice seeing you, Dad, but we’re leaving.”
  “Whoa, whoa.  I didn't raise you to be this rude,” Ray said.  “You never told me you were friends with Christian Grey.”
  “We’re not friends,” I said.
  Christian Grey nodded. “I believe the correct term is ‘friends with benefits.’”
  My jaw dropped and I released Angel’s arm.  “The only benefit I ever gave you was a knee to the balls! How dare you tell such lies in front of my father!”
  “Stepfather,” Ray said.
  “Shut up, Dad!”
  Shari tapped Angel on the shoulder.  “I think you’d better come with me before this gets ugly. I’ll explain later.”
  Angel didn’t budge.
  Christian pouted like a four year old. “Cherry, you wound me, what about that romantic night we spent together in the Heathman?”
  I raised both hands to shove Christian to the ground, then a photographer appeared out of nowhere.  “Say cheese.”
  I froze as the flash went off, with both hands on Christian Grey’s lapels; in what I’m sure millions would interpret as a compromising pose. “Oh boy,” the paparazzo said. “Christian Grey with a lady friend.  This will pay for my kids’ braces.”
  “Taylor,” Christian said.
  Out of nowhere, Buzzcut appeared and plucked the camera out of the photographer’s hand.  He pocketed the flash card and bashed the camera against the wall a few times until gears rained onto the grass.  Then he handed it back to the paparazzo.
  “That was my camera.”
  “It’s still your camera. Now scram, or your kids won’t be the only ones needing dental work,” Christian Grey said. Then he smiled sheepishly.  “No offense, but I don’t like to be photographed with my concubines.”
  “I am not your concubine!”  I grabbed Angel’s arm. “Let’s go.”
  “Sure,” Angel said. But his expression was troubled. I worried the damage had been done. We turned and saw Peter Footlong standing behind us.  With Dava close behind.
  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Peter said and batted his eyes.
  “Peter Footlong, this is Angel Clare.”
  “Who cares about him. I want to meet Christian Grey,” he said with a sly wink.
  “You’ve already met him!”
  Christian nodded. “That’s right.  I remember you.  You’re the rapist.”
  I buried my face in my hands.  This not a conversation I wanted to be having in front of my father and the guy I’d been crushing on for the past four years.
  "What?  I stopped him from raping you behind bar after he got you drunk and lured you out into the alleyway."
  Peter laughed. “Oh, Papi, you are barking up the wrong tree.”
  “That’s right,” Dava said. “Peter’s as gay as a box of Froot Loops.”
  “Peter did not try to rape me!” I shouted.   
  “Cherry, I was there. He tried to tear your top off.”
  By this point my bloodpressure had shot up from super-high to volcanic. “He tried to tear my top off because he was passing out drunk and I was covered in his vomit!  Unlike you, who actually did tear off my top because you’re a raving sex maniac!”
  “He…tore off your top?” Angel said in a shaky voice.I couldn’t tell if he was disgusted with me or disgusted with Christian, but he was certainly disgusted with someone.
  “Goodbye, everyone.” I said. “I’m leaving.”
  Christian came after me.  “Cherry, what about our dinner.  We need to discuss the contract.” I kept walking. “Damn it, Cherry.” I didn’t give you permission to walk away. He grabbed hold of the back of my robe but within a minute. Angel pushed him away then grabbed him by the lapels and roared in his face.
   “Back off!  She said she's not interested in you!”
  For a moment I basked in all the chivalry. Then Christian chuckled.  “I’d suggest you mind your own business.  This is just a lovers' spat.”
  “No it’s not!” I shouted.
  Christian arched an eyebrow at me.  “Really?  Let’s see what Taylor has to say about this.”
Taylor nonchalantly approached Angel with one gloved hand behind his own back.  There was a snick and a blade appeared.
  “Ok, yes he is!” I said in terror.
  Angel just stared at me and Taylor kept the blade out.
  “Explain it to him, Cherry,” Christian said.
  “This is all some silly game… we like to play… to put us in the mood… before we get our freak on.”
  Angel gave me a hurt look and released Christian. The blade retracted.
  Christian dusted himself off. Then threw an arm around Angel’s shoulder. “No hard feeling, friend.  In fact, why don’t you come to dinner with us.  Why don’t you all come to dinner with us.  I have my helicopter ready to take us to the Heathman.”
  He steered a dazed Angel toward the parking lot but turned his head and shot me a smile I can only describe as Caligulasque.  Peter and Dava were already running up ahead of them like kids chasing an icecream truck.  Taylor trailed behind, with an eye on Angel and the knife still in his hand.
  Shari sighed. “We’d better tag along before one or more of our friends ends up in a dumpster.
Ray smiled the smile of the truly oblivious. “Have fun, you two. I’m headed home to watch the game.”
  “Gee thanks, dad.”
  “My little girl. Dating a billionaire,” Ray sighed.  “I can die happy now.”
  “Please do,” I said.
  As Shari and I approached I shook my head. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”
  Shari rolled her eyes at me.  “Ya think?”
« Last Edit: October 14, 2014, 12:23:46 PM by bodwen »

Offline bodwen

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #66 on: October 14, 2014, 10:57:53 PM »
  Shari and I climbed into the back of the helicopter.  Fortunately it was one of those flying van types, with room for seven in the back.  Christian was in the pilot’s seat and had gotten Angel to ride shotgun.  Buzzcut was behind him, within striking distance.  I took a seat next to buzzcut as far as I could from Dava, while still keeping an eye on Angel.  The boys had stripped off their robes.  Peter was in a skin tight teeshirt and jeans.  Angel had on a white button down shirt and a tie.  I wondered if he’d dressed for a date with me.  Some date this was going to be. Assuming Christian didn’t merely jettison him from the aircraft as soon as we hit altitude.
  I leaned over. “Make sure that harness is on tight,” I told him, looking at the x-shaped bar across his chest.
  Christian looked as well.  “I like that harness…it gives me ideas…”
  Then he pushed me back and with that the he started the engine, the craft whirred to life and we were airborne.
  Omigod, I realized, I’m in a helicopter being flown by a maniac.  We’re all going to die!
  “Sorry. I didn’t catch your name,” Christian asked Angel as we zoomed off into the sunset.
  “It’s Angel Clare.”
  Christian lip twisted. “Angel Clare, huh, what a pretty name.  I take it your parents wanted a girl?”
  Remain calm, I told myself.  Don’t freak out and choke the psycho flying the aircraft.
  “I don’t know if they did or not,” Angel said.
  “You know I once had a $20,000-a-night callgirl in Hong Kong named Angel Clare.  Of course she was a female.”
  Remain calm, I told myself.  Remain calm.  Then kick his ass as soon as we land.
  Dava looked at me and Shari. “You can take your caps and gowns off now.  You look kinda dorky.”
  Shari let out a profound sigh and stripped down to my cargo shorts and tank top.  I once thought Shari could make anything look good.  I was wrong. My $15-total ensemble clashed senselessly with her $895 heels.
  Dava burst into an exaggerated gale of laughter. “Good God, Cherry, Where did you get those rags?”
  Christian Grey turned his head to look so I stripped down to Shari’s cocktail dress in an instant.
  Dava wasn’t finished. “Is that one of those undershirts you buy in a three-pack? And those shorts. Wow.  Dr. Livingstone called and he needs his safari diapers back.”
  Shari covered her face with her hands. “Dava, please, just be quiet, I have a migraine.”
  “I’d say.  Weren’t you the one who told me never to wear beige and white together? And now, here you are, dressed like some Low-rent Lara Croft.  You’re dressed worse than Fannie for once.”
  “I wouldn’t talk,” I said. “All that brown polyester and thrift-store jewelry isn’t doing that sallow complexion of yours any favors.”
  She looked at the blue dress I was wearing and did a double take. “Hey, wait a minute.  Fannie’s wearing the dress you wore on stage. You exchanged clothes, didn’t you?”
  “So what if we did?” I asked, only because Angel was now staring at us.
   “Please stop talking about this,” Shari moaned.
  “I'm just trying to understand why a classy lady like Cherry is dressed like such a pig,” Dava said.
  Shari gave her a venomous look.  I hoped this was the death of their friendship, but I wasn’t about to get my hopes up.
  "Why does she keep calling your friend Cherry, Cherry?"  Christian asked.
  "Because we're both named Cherry," I said.
  "A pair of Cherries, just like on a slot machine," Christain sighed.  "Do you like cherries, Angel?"
  "I guess."
  "Well, guess which one you can have. There are three cherries back there and only two of them belong to me."
  I leaned forward.  "You are so very wrong, Christian, in so many different ways."
  At long last we landed on the helipad at the Heathman. Christian Grey pushed Angel aside to help me down.  I pretended to lose my balance and bought my foot down as hard as I could on his toes.  Not that my ballet slippers made much of an impact.  I'd wished Shari lent me her heels as well.
  A man in a crisp uniform came out to greet us.
  "Good evening Mr. Grey.  We have our private dining room ready, just as you asked.”
  “Very good.  We'll have friends joining us for dinner this evening.  Unless Cherry here would prefer to dine in our usual suite.”
  “I think we’d better stay somewhere public.” For your safety more than my own, I added mentally.
  Christian arched an eyebrow at the hotelworker. “And that other thing I asked for?”
  “We are working on it. It should be here shortly.”
  “Good makes sure it is giftwrapped and delivered to my table in time for dessert.”
  Oh goodie.  A present.  For me. No doubt from Submissives R us. I hoped the hotel kept the receipt.

« Last Edit: October 15, 2014, 07:18:49 PM by bodwen »

Offline DreamWriter

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #67 on: October 15, 2014, 12:59:43 AM »
Good grief, Bodwen, lol. So, this is what fanfiction means. Now I understand. People really write stuff like this about existing works? Craziness. LOL.

Hey, but, um - just one nitpick.  I pushed the skirt down in a belated attempt to hide my Hello Kitty panties, and looked up at the clock.

Why'd ya have ta go there? Lol. I'm a TOTAL HK girl. (Not just cuz I'm Asian, either, lol. Hate the stereotype about Asian girls and Hello Kitty stuff.) My whole desk at work is HK, and lots of my home stuff, too. And yes, some of us own HK... attire, and are NOT ashamed of it, lol.  ;D

Anyway. Love this story, Bodwen. Been crackin' up, lol. Can't wait to read more!!! :)
DAEMONS: Web of Awakening / 110k / Contemporary Fantasy

Offline bodwen

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #68 on: October 15, 2014, 12:50:32 PM »
Thanks.  I <3 novelty underpants.

Offline DreamWriter

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #69 on: October 15, 2014, 11:04:56 PM »
Thanks.  I <3 novelty underpants.

Hehe, same here.  ;D

BTW. I've never read the real version of this story. How close is yours to the real thing? Just curious.
DAEMONS: Web of Awakening / 110k / Contemporary Fantasy

Offline DreamWriter

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #70 on: October 16, 2014, 02:58:24 AM »
Lol. Good grief.
DAEMONS: Web of Awakening / 110k / Contemporary Fantasy

Offline bodwen

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #71 on: October 18, 2014, 06:34:09 PM »
  We followed Christian into a plush seating area to an intimate dining room.  It looked like the Playboy Mansion on a very small scale. 
  A waiter entered with a tray of wine glasses and I grabbed one and downed half of it in one swallowed.  I debated if that was too much or not enough.
  “Hungry?” The waiter asked Christian.
  He stared at me. “Yes, but not for food.”
  I felt a little of the wine come up.  Too much. Definitely too much.
  Dava and Peter rushed to the table and sat immediately, Shari sighed and joined them, unfolding the starched linen napkin and placing her on her lap. It was just me, Angel, Christian and Buzzcut left, and I hoped that Angel understood this game of musical chairs well enough to leave me a seat between himself and Shari. He didn’t.  He took the seat next to Shari’s, and I took the seat the seat next to his. Christian sat between me and Peter, while Buzzcut stood behind him with his arms crossed like a harem eunuch.
  “Isn’t he going to sit down?” I asked.
  “He’s working,” Christian said. “Taylor doesn’t eat while he’s working.”
  “And how many hours a day does he work?” I asked.
  “As many as I need him to.”
  I looked up at Taylor whose expression hadn’t changed an iota in the time we’d been talking about him. “That doesn’t sound like much of a life.”
  “He’s an empty shell of a man. Now, where were we? Oh, yes.  Your issues.”
  I laughed aloud. “My issues?”
  “Yes, your issues.” He extracted the two halves of the sex contract from the inside pocket of his Italian suit. “I take it to mean that you do not agree to the terms stated therein. However, I’m prepared to be flexible.”
  He sorted out the halves of paper. I blinked at him.  Holy s**t.  He wasn’t really going to let his freak flag fly at the dinner table in front of my friends...and Dava. I took another sip of the wine to fortify myself.  The other were studying their menus, but I know Dava and Peter were being morbidly entertained by my plight, as if it were a particularly twisted car wreck.
  First order of business if I ever got out of here: find better friends.
  “Either you have issues with the contract or you’re concerned for your sexual health.  Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months.  All of my recent tests are clear—“
  I buried my face in my hands. “Holy crap! Do we really have to talk about this at the dinner table?”
  “—and I’ve never had any blood transfusions.  It’s all very clean and perfectly safe. Three months of doing things my way. Obeying me as your master in all things. That’s all I ask.  And if it’s too much, you can walk away, any time.  I won’t stop you.”
  Yeah, right. He’d just follow me everywhere I go and make my life miserable. I would have gotten up and left the table, but home was 30 miles away and I had no way of getting there.  I wondered if he planned it that way.  I had to escape, but I couldn’t leave Angel and Shari here. But I couldn’t let Angel know that. Not with Christian hovering over me like a hawk with his hired thug on high alert. I’d have to wait until he left for the restroom, excuse myself from the table then we’d call Shari and tell her to make a run for it. 
  The waiter came in with a tray of oysters.  “I hope you like oysters,” Christian told me.  Holy Moses. Could this guy be any more of a cliché?
  “I’ve never had one,” I said.
  “Really?” Christian reached for one, “All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that.”
  My face burned like a four alarm fire. This couldn’t be happening.  Not on my first…and probably only…date with Angel. I was too paralyzed with mortification to run away, so I was subjected to a particularly lewd demonstration of oyster-gobbling by the pyscho to my left.
  “Mmmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea.” He grinned at me. “Now you try one.”
  Instead, I tasted some more of the wine coming up.  “I’m not hungry.”
  He winked at me. “You mean not for food?”
  “You’ve already told one,” I hissed. “Call me a taxi. I want to go home.”
  Christian tongued down another oyster, staring at me the whole time. “You know, some people consider these an aphrodisiac, but I never need one around you.”
  The forgotten waiter cleared his throat. “Are you ready to order?”
  “Who’s paying for this?” Dava asked.
  “I am, of course,” Christian said.
  “In that case, I’ll have the lobster,” Shari said. “And a pitcher of Margaritas.”
  I shot her a smile.  That’s my girl.
  “I’ll have the prime rib,” Peter said.
  “I’ll have the prime rib, as well, well done,” Dava said. “With onion rings and a pitcher of Margaritas.”
  “I think your friend already ordered a pitcher of margarita for the table,” Angel said.
  “That’s what you think,” I said.
  “And for you, sir?” the waiter asked Angel.
  “I’ll have the seared ahi salad,” Angel said.
  “Salad?” Christian laughed. “Isn’t that a bit dainty of a dish for a man of your stature?”
  “I have eat light because I have a flight to catch in the morning.”
  “Oh, and get him a Shirley Temple to wash it down with. No cherry for him though, just a pretty pink parasol.”
  I stared daggers at Christian
  “And you, miss?” the waiter asked.
  “I’m not hungry.”
  “Eat, Cherry,” Christian said. “You have to eat. You can either eat here, or you can eat alone with me in my hotel room and we can turn it into a game.”
  “Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll have one of everything on the menu.”
  “She’ll have the black cod with asparagus and potatoes,” Christian said. “I’ll have the porterhouse.  And some bottled water for the table.”
  “Very good, sir,” the waiter said and then left.
  "I said, I'm not hungry."
  “Obey me in all things,” Christian said. “Yes, I want you to do that, Cherry, I need you to do that. Think of it as roleplay.”
  “No,” I said with a shudder.
  “I won’t hurt you, not more than you can handle. I’ve only seriously injured a submissive once--“
  I groaned. “I don’t even want to know.”
  “I suspended her from my playroom ceiling. Rope play.  One of the ropes was too tight--”
I held up my hand to beg him to stop. “What part of ‘I don’t even want to know’ did you not understand?”
  He stared at me, his gaze intense. The seconds ticked by.  “I understand.  You’re jealous.”
  I laughed into my wineglass.
« Last Edit: October 18, 2014, 07:00:53 PM by bodwen »

Offline DreamWriter

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #72 on: October 18, 2014, 07:02:11 PM »
Oh... my... gosh. Bodwen, you're killin' me, Smalls. Lol. Dang it. Now I have to read the real thing to check out the comparisons. Ick. When all the ladies at work read it, I didn't wanna jump on the bandwagon - cuz I'm that way about all things in life, for some weird reason. (Even with watching shows like Friends, Seinfeld and The Walking Dead.) But now you've made me wanna read the real book.  :crazy:
DAEMONS: Web of Awakening / 110k / Contemporary Fantasy

Offline bodwen

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #73 on: October 19, 2014, 04:22:16 PM »
  The drinks came first of course.  Angel took the umbrella from his drink and twirled it between his fingers. He looked miserable, poor guy.
  “Please" Christian said, "let’s try it for three months.  If it’s not for you, you can talk away at any time.”
  “You keep saying that!” I took a large sip wine. “And yet every time I walk away, you turn up somewhere else.”
  Christian was about to respond to that, but Dava snuck up behind him and pressed her cheek again his and held out her new smartphone at arm’s length.  “I just want to get a selfie, really quick. Say cheese." She turned over the smartphone.  "Oh, my eyes were closed, let’s get another.”
  “Are you finished?” Christian asked her.
  “Just one more, just in case. There. Thanks, I’m good now.”
  Buzzcut wrestled the smartphone out of her hand and dropped in into her pitcher of margarita.
  Christian smiled balefully at her.  “I don’t do photographs with women.  As a rule.  Respect my rules and you won't get hurt.”
  Dava stared morosely into the pitcher.  “You’re going to buy me a new one, right?”
  Christian shrugged. “Losing a phone isn’t the worst thing that might have happened to you.”
  I took advantage of the distraction to lean over to whisper an escape plan into Angel’s ear. It didn’t work. Christian Grey was as quick as a mongoose and pulled me closer to him before I could get a single word out.
  He stared into my eyes. “I want you to know that as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That’s why you have to trust me. I will f**k you, any time, any way I want—anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me.”
  Across the table, Shari’s phone rang. I welcomed the distraction.  She put down her margarita and answered it, and her gaze darting to me. “Yes, she’s right here.  We’re at a restaurant with Christian Grey.  It seems to be going pretty well.  Thanks, I’ll tell her.”
  She hung up and went back to her margarita.
  “Who was that?” I asked.
  “That was Ray.  He told me to remind you to call your mom when we get home.”
  Christian Grey shook his head, as if to knock something loose that got stuck inside.  “Wait a minute.  Your mother is still alive?”
  I thought it was a weird question, but Angel stopped twirling the umbrella and stared at me intently.
  “I never claimed she wasn’t.”
  “Except she wasn’t at your graduation,” Christian Grey said.
  “Well, she lives in Georgia now.” I said.
  “With her new husband Bob,” Dava piped in.  “He’s husband number four.”
  I nodded. “Mom’s an incurable romantic.”
  Christian’s lip curled. “She's so busy boning the next guy in line that she misses her own daughter’s graduation?”
  “It’s not like that,” I said.  “She and Ray don’t get along, so it would be better for everyone if one of them stayed away.”
  “I would think it would be logical for the ex-stepfather to stay home,” Christian said. “Especially since he didn’t seem all that enamored with the whole ideal of attending his ex-stepdaughter's graduation in the first place.”
  I would have simply told Christian Grey to mind his own business, but Angel was looking at me too. “Mom met husband number three when I was fifteen. I stayed with Ray.”
  Angel frowned like he didn’t understand. “You didn’t want to live with your mom?”
  “Husband number three lived in Texas. My home was in Montesano. And…you know, my mom was newly married.”
  “And the courts granted custody to your stepfather over a blood relative?” Christian asked.
  “It’s what everyone wanted.”  Really, this was none of his business, but he was making it sound worse than it was, so I felt compelled to defend my parents.
  “So what you’re saying is that your mother walked out on you for some hot young stud.”
  "No, she didn’t.  She and Ray were having problems.  Problems that weren’t her fault in the slightest. She needed to make a fresh start without him.”
  “And so she fobs her newly pubescent daughter off to play house with husband number two while she makes a run for the border?” Christian Grey narrowed his eyes at me. “Let me guess. Was there some Woody Allen thing going on between the two of you?”
  I shuddered at the thought. “Gross!  No.”
  “Then your story makes no sense,” Christian said.
  I heard murmurs of agreement around the table.
  “Fine!"  I knocked over my wine glass but didn’t care at that point. “You want to know the truth?  Ray’s not my stepfather.  He’s my real father. He was husband number one AND two.  But he got into some legal trouble with some rich lady who writes vampire stories, so he had to fake his own death and come back under an assumed name. But the damage was done and my parents ended up divorcing anyway.”
  Peter nodded. “It’s true.  Fannie and I have been friends our whole lives, and I knew her Dad back when his name was Charlie.”
  To my surprise Christian let out an ah of understanding. “You know what’s funny?  The exact same thing happened to my family." 
  "Really?" I asked.
  He nodded. "My adoptive father used to be a doctor, but he ran into some trouble with a novelist, and now he’s a lawyer and my mother is the doctor. That’s the reason I went into publishing and started Grey Matters Press. To torture writers. I wonder if it’s the same author?”
  “Huh…” I pondered. It was a pretty strange coincidence.
  “Now let’s talk terms. Three months, and I get complete control over you every weekend.”
  “No,” I said for the hundredth time.
  “So you want a weekend away from me every month?  I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away from you for that length of time.  I can barely manage it now.”
  I nodded. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”
  Angel rose from the table.  “Excuse me,” he said and headed off through the double doors toward the restrooms.  Finally.
  I rose to take off after him but only got two steps before Christian pulled me back. “Where are you going?”
  “I have to pee.”
  “Miss Bentley.  Such language.”
  “What? You’re allowed to talk about your STD’s at the table, but I’m not allowed to pee?”
  “Well, hold it. We’re still talking.”  He dragged me back into the chair. “I know you’ve not done this before. Initially, we’ll take it slowly, and I will help you. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I will have to earn your trust, and I will.”
  Damn Christian Grey and his longwinded speeches.  I had to get out of here and find Angel before got back.
  “If I agree to think about it, will you let me go pee?”
  He held my wrist like a vise as I tried to squirm away. “If you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about this. It would be easy. All those decisions—all the wearying thought process behind them.  The ‘is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now?  You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that detail. That’s what I do as your Dom.”
  “That sounds great,” I lied, “But right now, I really have to pee.”
  Christian was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.  He seemed to really enjoy seeing me squirm.  “Discipline. There is a fine line between pleasure and pain, Cherry.  They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don’t believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing you can’t handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Cherry?”
  “Fine. Whatever you say. Just let me go.”
  The double doors swung open and for a moment I worried that Angel was back already. Instead it was the waiter wheeling in our entrees.  A lobster for Shari. A prime rib each for Dava and Peter. Cod for me and steak for Christian. No salad. The place next to me remained empty.
  I sat there, numb, as the waiter wheeled the cart away.
  Christian still smiled as he cut into his porterhouse.  “Didn’t you say you needed to pee?”
« Last Edit: October 19, 2014, 05:52:17 PM by bodwen »

Offline DreamWriter

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Re: The Perfect Cherry
« Reply #74 on: October 20, 2014, 02:12:22 AM »
Bodwen!. Good grief. Now, I'm addicted to this smut. Ahhhh!!!!! Christian's SO filthy!  :emb2:
DAEMONS: Web of Awakening / 110k / Contemporary Fantasy