You’d think at this point I would’ve went running for my life considering the possible imminent death with which I am faced. I must admit, however, that I am highly intrigued by the challenge of Fifty Shades and nothing can turn me on more than the possibility of rough and filthy sex, even if it is with a possible homicidal maniac. GREAT STORY FOR MY GIRLFRIENDS!
Walking along Main St., Fifty Shades takes me into a pub/restaurant called Library Alehouse. Fuck. I’ve already been here on a date. That date did not lead to me getting laid. Hopefully history will not repeat itself based on my geographic location. It’s a small, intimate space with very low lighting and very high alcohol content in all the beers. Translation: This is where you bring the bitches first to get them good and ready to take home…to bed….to do anal. WHAAAAAT?! Sike. Not…sike. Oh Fifty, you’re goooooooooooood. It seems he’s just as calculated as I am. Once inside, I see a sea of cynical ladies stop to stare at Fifty Shades then continue on to stare at me. Noticing the lascivious looks they’re all giving him, I look over at Fifty myself and am once again enamored by the blonde-haired, gray-eyed, buff boy before me. FUCK man, maybe he IS hotter than me. I contemplate punching Fifty Shades in the face right now to show myself and the others that I actually hold all the power between the two of us, hoping to possibly break his nose and crown myself the prettiest among the pair. Yes?!?! No…maybe not. He’s the psycho, not me. Hehehe. I DARE YOU TO CHALLENGE THIS STATEMENT! Shrugging it off and giving a smirk and taunting, “NA NA NA NA NAAAA NA!” look at all the bitches, I slide into a bar seat that Fifty has pulled out for me as we sit facing each other, our knees touching from our closeness.
While I would like to recount some of the things discussed in the next hour or so, I can’t say I entirely give a fuck about anything we’re really talking about, as the sexual chemistry is the most noticeable thing about our interaction. As we sit and talk, Fifty Shades takes my hair in his hand and begins to stroke it, continuing to caress the length of my arm with the other, as I brush his hair from his face and grip his knee while we speak. I normally would not be involved in gestures so prematurely intimate, however, the confidence and poise with which Fifty began doing so leaves me feeling excited, vulnerable, and comfortable all at the same time. It’s somewhat like instinctively going up to an obviously pregnant woman and nonchalantly caressing her belly; there is no discomfort about it, however, it is actually very inappropriate, awkward, and rude to do so. Yes, this is how I see our interaction right now.
One thing of which I do take note is the fact that Fifty Shades does not for the life of him act like a 27-year-old guy. I’m 26. Yes, I may do ridiculously immature things like debate in public the differences in use of long skinny dick versus short fat dick (which is actually a very intensely debated topic on my end) and yeah so I may dabble in illegal substances on occasion, but for the most part I think it’s safe to say I act my age. He could not be any more polar opposite of me in regards to ”acting his age.” Unable to bear my curiosity and confusion regarding his demeanor, I bluntly address this with Fifty Shades:
Me: Fifty, I’m having a difficult time understanding who you are. The way you talk, the way you carry yourself…you come off as very….controlled. *breathing in deeply and anticipating his response to my statement, which may very well be taken as an insult and hoping with all my heart that he doesn’t backhand me in the bar with all the bitches waiting to take my seat*
Fifty Shades: *cocking his head to the side and teasingly smirking* Haha…Miss Jayla…are you calling me a control freak?
Me: (Whoa you said it, buddy, not me) *breathing a sigh of relief from his joke* No, no not at all sir… *smirking back salaciously* You don’t even laugh….I bet if I tickled you you’d laugh though *grinning menacingly as I reach my right hand over to grab his nipple*
Fifty Shades: *very swiftly and quite forcefully grabbing the wrist of my right hand, anger and hostility erupting from his glare, his breath quickening and deepening at the same time* Oh no, no, no young lady……. *rage still in his eyes as a smile cryptically creeps up onto his lips* You’re not allowed to do that…. *now taking my hand to his lips to kiss it*
Me: (UMMMMMMM WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!) *Eerily turned on by what’s happening and now raising my eyes in aroused amusement* Well sir…it seems I found your weak spot *grinning back and retracting my hand from his lips to cross my arms* You know, you sure as hell don’t act like you’re 27. You act more like you’re 57. So what the fuck is it Fifty? What about you is 27 years old?
Fifty Shades: *giving another salacious smile and licking the top of his lip with the tip of his tongue, now sliding his fingers underneath my dress and running them teasingly from my ankle and slowly up my calf to the back of my knee* Well, Miss Jayla…..my testosterone… *squeezing my knee and holding his grey glare on mine as he licks his lips again*
Me: *HORNY* (Whoa God damn JESUS FUCK ME NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) *gulping* Wow…*breathing in deeply and completely flustered and speechless* Umm… *still speechless* (Holy shit it’s hot in here) I…uhh…I have to go to the bathroom (to masturbate). I’ll…be right back…*now clumsily getting up from my seat as I make my way back to the bathroom*
“GET A GRIP JAYLA!” I scold myself in the mirror back in the bathroom. I must admit, this is one of the very few times I have lost control on a date; I’m usually the one with the upper hand and the one calling all the shots, making my dates squirm and preemptively squirt in anticipation. Not this time; I have somehow been usurped and am now having the tables turned on me. Normally, I can find a man’s weakness and/or insecurity within minutes of meeting, which I immediately hone in on and use to my advantage. This is different. Fifty Shades is too controlled and contrived for me to figure out what his weak spot is…and here he is preying on mine: my libido. Calming down my nerves and vaginal excitement, I cock my shoulders back, hold my head high, and strut my ass on back there, determined to win back the reins on this date.
When I get back to my seat, Fifty Shades moves his face closer to mine, our foreheads an inch from touching, as he lowers his voice and asks, “So…ya wanna get outa here?” Without hesitation, I lower my voice in turn and abruptly answer, “YES.”
Having already paid the tab, Fifty Shades grabs my hand in his and leads me out of the bar. Fuck. Must…turn….tables…..!!! So much for winning back the reins.