User:Scofield/UnBooks:Fifty Shades of Gay
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I stood alone in the rucus of the Dean's office, deflated, yet relieved. The secretaries with their glowing skin and slim bodies judged me with intense scorn and disgust. I could feel their eyes staring at my chicken legs and my horse hair scalp. They tapped on the keyboard but secretly they were telepathically chatting with one other, laughing at me, judging me. They answered the phones and sent off letters, but the envelopes were filled with a narrative about my failures, about my academic death. The least beautiful secretary, the one with intense skin and a perfect fitting skirt made me at once admire her lucious ass and immediately made me feel ugly and insecure. She brought me into the deans office without even offering a glass of water. That was an agressive sign of her burning hate, her feminine war on people like me. Ugly and loathful me.
It had been one hell of a ride I'd been through, with my wildest dreams being fulfilled for better or worse. However, I knew the way Karma worked. The day you felt as if you'd had everything you ever wanted in life could also be the day everything was taken away from you. And therefore, I had no cause to complain.
The principal stood across from me, with a smile on his face. But I could see the vicious contempt in his eyes. I knew he was about to humiliate me, to make an example out of me before banishing me from the university grounds forever. But I just stood there, calm as still water, ready to embrace the dark rain that would soon befall me.
The principal sauntered forward, as he opened his mouth to shout at me.
edit Chapter 1
I had worn a three-week old unwashed sweatshirt and freshly-ironed sweatpants that might actually be confused for office pants. And my good friend Katy was looking up at me from her sickbed, evidently embarrassed.
"You know you don't really have to do this, right?" she said again.
"But Katy, I must! You're my best friend!" I replied. I knew I was a bad liar, and my utter glee at being able to interview the smoking HOT CEO Christina Gay was showing through my eyes, as well as the fact that I didn't really give two shits about my "best friend". But Katy obviously had no choice but to go along with my ruse, lest she fall into depression about not being able to interview that lovely piece of ass for herself. The fact that Katy herself was genuinely gay clearly didn't help matters.
I walked out of her room with a spring in my step, before going back into my own dorm to change out of my sweatshirt into a nice navy-blue suit with striped pink tie. You didn't really think I was gonna interview Christina in that turd of a sweatshirt now, did ya?!
I grabbed my keys, climbed into a second-hand Volvo which just happened to have been featured in one of my favorite novels and drove off into the noisy, headache-inducing streets of Seattle, which also happened to be a key location in one of my favorite novels.
Fortunately, the office of Sparkling Make-Up Inc. happened to be quite far from the madding traffic. It was located on the edge of the Seattle suburbs, which happened to be a rather quiet, desolate place with a lot more greenery than one would expect. The office itself was a pretty building with floor to ceiling windows, which made the comings and goings people quite visible to the passer-by, though I doubt a corporate spy would ever be able to make any sense out of the random people going in and out of random rooms, again and again and again.
I, another random person, walked in to the front doors of the building. I flashed my college ID badge to the security people guarding the doors, and they told me I could find Ms Gay at the top floor. I went through the doors, made my way to the elevator, flashing my ID to all and sundry in a feeble attempt to seem important.
Once I reached the top floor, the office of CEO Christina Gay opened up right in front of me. I walked, and felt myself going hard under my underpants as she looked up at me. She was indeed quite a beauty. A brunette of about 25, with an oval-shaped face and brown eyes. And she hadn't even used botox yet!
Once I flashed my ID, a flicker of recognition spread out across her face. "Wasn't Katy supposed to be here for the interview?" she asked, rather coldly. Rather sexy-coldly.
"Um..s-s-she caught the flu. I'm h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-hhhhhhhhere instead." I replied, wondering if I had any spare undergarments back in my dormitory.
"Hey, is everything okay?" she asked, and a tenderness filled her eyes.
"Um...yeah, everything's fine, how about we get started?" I said, and furtively walked over to her desk.
Then her nose wrinkled up for some reason, and her eyes went cold again. That cold demeanor persisted throughout the interview, as she gave one or two-word answers to all my questions. When I finally asked her what people thought of her pixie-like face, she looked as though she wanted to kill me. Fortunately the phone rang at that very moment.
She sounded very calmed and composed during the entire phone conversation, but her eyes betrayed a terrifying, murderous rage, and it took all of my willpower to not piss into my already jizzed-in pants. "Very well," she said, "I see that's not possible. Thank you for your time." and slammed down the receiver. "Any more questions?" she asked, but I was already running at full speed away from the desk, only to slam headfirst on to the glass door, in a typical klutz fashion.
edit Chapter 2
"Lock eyes, from across the room, down my drinks as the rhythms boom, take your hand and skip the names..."
"Shut up, Jose!"
"...No need here for the silly games, make our way through the smoke and crowds..."
"Seriously, if you ever get to that part..."
"JIZZ IN MY PANTS! LOLOLOL, you jizzed in your pants, n00b!"
I jolted up from my bed to clobber my dear friend, only to be hit with another splitting headache, causing my to collapse back down onto my sickbed.
"Hehehe! But seriously, aren't you going to see the doctor about this, or something?" Jose said.
"Nah, an orgasm is an orgasm, regardless of the awkward situations it puts you in."
I for one, was no stranger to awkward situations, especially of the sexual kind. I'd banged a lotta hot chicks in my lifetime, though the banging wasn't always what you'd expect it to be.
For instance, there was this one time when I'd come over to one smoking brunette's home for a dinner party, and she called me over to the pantry and announced her true intentions of getting the "shabby geek" experience. We had a wild rumble, and would have been rewarded for it too if I hadn't pushed her into that shelf full of pots and pans, and that shelf of pots and pans hadn't tumbled, and the brunette hadn't screamed so loud because a pot or pan fell on her toe, and the party people hadn't come rushing in to see what had happened only to get a good look at my deflating penis. Needless to say, me and the brunette never saw each other again, which might explain why I've forgotten her name.
Remembering that incident significantly lowered my feeling of embarrassment, and made me relax enough to drift off to sleep, where I dreamed of doing a woman in a catsuit.
A week later, I'd returned to my part-time job as a hardware store clerk. I'd taken on the job as a favor to my old friend Mickey Newton, whose name just happens to bear a resemblance to one of the characters in my favorite novel.
As I was carrying a box of tweezers and placing them over a preexisting pile of tweezers, a familiar face walked into the store. I immediately went hard again, and was relieved that I had successfully placed the box before seeing Christina Gay's FUCKING SMOKING HOT FACE!
She looked pretty turned on too, and for a moment I was bewildered. Why would she, a beautiful hotshot corporate executive, feel any attraction towards me, a typical dork who only got so much because too many chicks were interested in "trying something different"? Then I realized she wasn't turned on my me. She was ogling the boxes of tweezers. Heck, drooling over the boxes of tweezers.
"May I help you?" I asked, walking up to her. She looked up at me, and her face flushed in embarrassment.
"It's Nate Steele. I work here as a clerk."
"You're that guy who jizzed at the very sight of me that day at my office, aren't you?"
"Oh, so you remember..." I said, and quickly tried getting the fuck out of there.
"Hey, come back. It's okay! It happens to guys sometimes. Now, could you just tell me how much will a box of these cost me?"
"Um...a box? That's a large quantity of tweezers..."
"Oh, it's personal business. Nothing you need to worry about."
"Well, then it'll cost you around $59.95."
"Okay, then." she said, and then picked a box up and went over to the cashier. "Charge my credit card."
As she was walking away, I watched her longingly. But before my mind could sink into another long ramble about how she was out of my league, I remembered something.
"Hey Christina!" I yelled, running out towards her.
"What is it?"
"Yeah, about that interview I gave you? I'll need some photos to go along with that."
"Oh. Okay, here's my number." she said, taking out a pretty little business card.
"Thanks. I'll be in touch soon."