Well, I ain't done yet...
WARNING: EVEN MORE INAPPROPRIATE
Fifty Shades of karen PART DEUX: THE RED BOUDOIR
I've moved in with boytoy. My fabulous play thing. My fifty kinds of whiny, get-on-my-nerves, control freak....wait? Why did I move in with him? Just because he's HAWT? It must be for purposes of this plot, which is spurious at best.
But hell, he's got a housekeeper. He lives in an INSANE apartment with a RIDONCULOUS view and not only does someone ELSE make my meals now, they also pick up my dirty gitch! WIN, WIN, WIN. Besides, before HE came along, I lived in a house that I had to spray yearly for ants, and great cat hair tumbleweeds blew up out of the vents regularly.
Moving on up, indeed.
Still, there's a problem I'm trying to work out: boyfriend is a weirdo. I remember the first time he showed me that secret room in his apartment. The room that he used to take those other nimrods he dated to. His...submissives--snort! I'm trying! Every time I say that word though, it cracks me up. Submissives. Lurv it.
But anyway--my first time in the red room...ah yes...I remember that day well...
"karen," boyfriend said looking nervous, "I--I have something I want to show you." His eyes burned. He was nervous, yes, but he was also turned on. Again. That guy--I'm telling you--is perpetually horny. It makes me so freaking tired. I'm 40 for crap's sake.
He is leading me by the hand to a door. A closed door. A door with lots of locks on it. He pulls out a giant key ring. Holy shit! Look at all the keys on that ring! Oh my! That's a lotta keys!! Freakshow licks his lips suggestively at me, and as he's slowly turning each lock, he's making weird smoochy faces.
"What's wrong with your face? Do you have tourettes as well?"
"What? Fu--NO!" He is glaring at me. "I should put you over my knee for that!"
"Yes, yes. Blah, blah. Is this tour going to happen any time TODAY?"
Boyfriend sighs loudly, and swings the door open. We step inside the secret room. It is red--blood red. There is a large bed in the middle of the room, and it has no bedding on it, just this weird leather fitted sheet. Where the hell do you buy THAT? I'm assaulted by the colour. Not a fan of red.
On one wall there is a rack filled with various paddles. On another wall, he has, like, a whole selection of whips. I suddenly feel inspired. I begin to move my hips suggestively, licking my lips and keeping my eyes on his. His eyes are burning--NAY, SMOLDERING! I open my mouth
and begin to SING:
"DUH, DUH, DUH, DUH, DUH--CRACK THAT WHIP!"
"What?"
"DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH! GIVE THE PAST A SLIP!"
"I don't know what you're talking abou--"
"DUHDUHDUHDUHDUH! STEP ON A CRAAACK!"
"Stop it."
"DOOPDOOPDOOPDOOPDOOP! BREAK YO MOMMA'S BACK!"
"This is not amusing, karen."
"UH-WHEN A PROBLEM COMES ALONG, YOOOU MUST WHIP IT!"
"I want you to stop this right now."
"BEFORE THE CREAM HAS SET TOO LONG YOOOU MUST WHIP IT!"
"I command you to stop this at once."
Instead I begin to ROBOT it out. SEXY ROBOT DANCING.
"NOW WHIP IT..INTO SHAPE..SHAPE IT UP..GET STRAIGHT..GO FORWARD--"
"THAT IS ENOUGH!!" boy toy roars. He is pissed. Off.
I pout. "Yer no fun."
He pulls on my bottom lip. "Don't pout like that karen, you know what that does to me. So," he says waving his hand expansively at the room, "you like?"
I shrug. "It screams BACHELOR to me."
Boyfriend's eyes widen. "Yes! Yes! I want you to SCREAM!
Sigh.
"Oh!" he says, eyes all squinty and sexy. "I wanted to show you something else. You know how most people can do THIS?"
He takes his tongue, and curls it up at the sides into a U-shape.
"Sure," I shrug. "I can do that."
He smiles wickedly. "Well...I can do this: "
I stare at him.
"Heh? Heh?" he questions, with his tongue all rolled into a W.
I stare at him.
Finally I roll my eyes, shake my head and say; "gee, honey, that's super."
He frowns. "I don't think you're mentally exploring all the possibilities. The ladies love it."
"Oooooo-kay..." I say, making the 'YOU'RE CRAZEEE' face.
"Damn it, woman, is there NO pleasing you???"
"Oh, I can be pleased, but do not even think of touching my va-hooty with your tongue like that. You want to please me, all it takes is a box of wine."
Grumbles is pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply with his eyes closed. "She gives me a headache...I swear she gives me a freaking headache..." he mutters.
"Ooooh! I get it! Is this room supposed to make me all horned up? It's all RED and SEXUAL, right? Or so you think? And am I supposed to be all hog-tied, and you take your spankin' stick to me, and you get a major bone, and I'm all 'oh yeah baby! Spank me harder, baby! Give me more! Quick! Gag me too! Whip me like the stupid ditz that I am! I love your big, hard--"
"YES! YES! CAN WE DO THAT? PLEASE? PLEASE?" Boyfriend is so eager, he's practically panting.
I roll my eyes. "I haven't shaved my legs."
"I DON'T CARE!"
"I kinda felt like reading a book..."
"PLEASE! PLEASE? AW! COME ONNNN!"
"Fine. But no hog tying, no gagging and no whipping."
He seriously looks crushed. Tough tits.
"Fine," he mutters.
Ah...that first encounter in the room. He had fun, but I was not feeling it. Isn't that the way, girls? Well, hell, he said that this is OUR place now. Yeah, so I should get a say, right? He's going to be away on business for a few days...
I leap out of bed, and go to his dresser, craftily sliding my hand through his socks and underwear drawer until my hand closes around the cool object I seek: the key ring.
Oh karen! You are BRILLIANT! What a fabulous idea. He'll be so surprised! I clap my hands with delight! And now...time to get busy!
A few days later, when man-child returns, he is so happy to see me. He nuzzles my hair, and hugs me tight. Yup. He's horny again.
"I've missed you," he murmurs.
"I've missed you too!" It's true. Boyfriend has returned during ovulation time. He is once again attractive and appealing. Rrowr! "I have a surprise for you," I whisper.
He cocks one eyebrow suggestively. "Oh you do, do you!"
"Yes! Yes! Come on! I can't wait to show you!"
I take his hand and lead him to the door of the FORBIDDEN, SLIGHTLY SECRET room.
"Oh, ho, ho!" Boyfriend exclaims with delight."
As I turn each lock, I waggle my eyebrows at him suggestively. He begins to pant. I begin to pant. As I reach the last lock, both of our chests are heaving. I throw the door open, throw my head back and SCREAM:
"TA- DAAAAA!"
Boytoy's jaw drops. His eyes are so huge, they look like they could pop out. "Oh dear god..." he mutters.
"Yes! I know, right!?!"
"I--I can't believe it!"
"Stop--you're embarrassing me now!"
"What--what have you done?!?!"
"Wait. You're not happy?" I'm confused.
Angry young man steps into the room, with his hands in his hair surveying everything. We both take in the soft pale blue walls--so pale they're almost white upon first glance, the gorgeous, plush white carpet, The white armoire and long dresser with the antique mirror. The adorable blue and white toile chairs set astride the little white table set with a pot of tea, and crumpets. With jam! The antique bed sits serene and beautiful pushed back against the wall, with a soft, plush white and floral duvet atop, a cotton lace bedskirt on the bottom, and six plump lacy pillows. An ironstone jug of white flowers sits on the dresser.
Fifty Shades Of Whiny is starting to moan. He whirls around and fixes furious eyes on me. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?" he nearly shrieks.
I smile happily. "It's 'FRENCH COUNTRY!' Isn't it DREAMY?"
Angree storms past me in a fit of pique. "I am VERY ANGRY. I am so angry that we will have to discuss this later."
Pppft. Men. Everybody knows you never let the guy decorate. Some people are impossible to please.
Fin.