Fifty Shades Nastier Page 2

  “Not right now, thank you. But, remind me to take you hiking through a Honey Locust forest some day.”

  How exciting! Master Green is already planning a hiking date with me. It seems so right. Mrs. Nasty Lime-Green. I was born for this!

  When we get to the coffee shop, Unitarian verifies that they serve spring water and granola before we are seated. He is so considerate!

  Once we have our orders, Unitarian begins getting personal.

  “So, Ms. Lime, is there anything between you and that Hoseme or Clitter boy?”

  Gulp. How did he know I was friends with Hoseme and Oris? He must believe in doing serious research. And I was so hopelessly ill prepared when I interviewed him. I’m mortified.

  “They’re just good friends. Why do you ask?”

  He gives me another of the million wry smiles that everyone I know seems to give all the time. “I need to know what obstacles I might face in my plans to fuck you. If you have a boyfriend, that would be an obstacle. I don’t fuck women who are being fucked by someone else. I like a nice, clean vaginal canal.”

  “Oh.” He plans to fuck me! Me! Ordinary Nasty Lime! Can life get better than this?

  “So?” He cocks his head and smiles at me wryly.

  “No boyfriend. No obstacles.” I swallow and flush.

  “You’re biting your bottom lip.”

  “Am I?” Crap. Holy crap. Double crap. I didn’t know I was biting my lip. I wonder if that’s a problem.

  “Yes. And bottom-lip biting is a huge turn on to me. Any biting is. I suppose I react to biting the way you react to long fingers and toes.”

  “You know about that?!” I flush and swallow.

  “Yes. I believe in research.”

  “Is that why you’re wearing sandals on this cold, rainy spring day?”

  “Yes, Nasty, I aim to please.”

  Crap. Holy crap. I cock my head, swallow and flush. “Does anyone call you ‘Unitarian,’ Master Green?”

  “Only my family and dearest friends.”

  “Well, since you’re planning to fuck me, I’d like to call you Unit.” I bite my lip, swallow and flush.

  “That’s very forward of you, Ms. Lime.”

  Geesh. He says he wants to fuck me and thinks I’m being forward?

  “I consider it a term of endearment. I’ll use it sparingly.”

  Unit strokes his chin with his long, elegant fingers, then smirks at me.

  “I suppose if it’s a term of endearment…”

  So he’s into endearment as well as fucking! I am halfway to being Mrs. Nasty Lime-Green. Well, Ms. Nasty Lime-Green. After all, you can take the girl out of Ithaca, but you can’t take the Ithaca out of the girl.

  “Have you had elevator sex, Ms. Lime?”

  I flush more flushy than I have in months. “No…er, yes…I mean, no.”

  Unit cocks his head, smiles wryly and pats his lip with his impossibly, long, sexy index finger. He raises an eyebrow indicating he expects a better answer.

  “It’s no. I’ve only had elevator sex in my fantasies.”

  “I, too, have an unfilled fantasy or two.” He smiles wryly and cocks his head.

  “About elevator sex?”

  “Well, no. I’ve been in countless elevators.”

  I flush, swallow, cock my head, and roll my eyes.

  “You’re rolling your eyes at me, Ms. Lime!” Unit arches an eyebrow and cocks his head.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I guess, um, bragging about countless elevators just got to me.”

  “Bragging? I was merely stating a fact.” He seems genuinely offended.

  “Well, I, um, guess that when, um, billionaires state facts about their lives it can sound like bragging to those of us who make minimum wage. Hence, the Mitt Romney situation.”

  “Even those making minimum wage certainly must ride in elevators?”

  “Well, probably not private ones you can have sex in.”

  “Is that what you’re thinking? What’s the fun of having sex in a private elevator?” He cocks his head, raises and eyebrow and smirks at me as I flush, swallow, bite my lip and look down.

  “Now, really, Ms. Lime. If you keep biting your lip we’re going to have to go find an elevator of our own.”

  “Maybe we should change the subject. Why don’t you tell me about your family?”

  His face clouds. “My family is quite different than your family…” he trails off.

  He knows about my ditsy mom and all my stepdads? Of course. He does his research.

  “I was fathered by a Catholic priest. My mother raised me by herself, though my father did start taking an active interest in my life after he was defrocked. I was about five then.”

  “Oh. You know, I really must be going. I have exams I have to study for.”

  I’m so dizzy from the “my daddy was a priest” news that I walk out of the coffee shop and straight into the path of a jogger. Unit grabs my elbow and yanks me into his arms so swiftly that I miss the otherwise imminent collision with the jogger. I live a lifetime in his arms for a full 30 seconds. I breathe in all his sweet, sweet scents of soap, laundry detergent, coffee, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, leather, Tic Tac© and…incense?

  Unit walks me back to my car in the pet shop parking lot. Except for stopping for me to hug the tree again, we walk silent and steady. Then, instead of “goodbye,” he says “You really should stay away from me, Ms. Lime. I’m dangerous.” Crap!

  Chapter 3

  Kath is home when I arrive back at our apartment. She is reorganizing her closet by brand rather than color.

  “Here,” she hands me a stack of Michael Kors purses, “I decided I’m, like, sticking exclusively to Gucci and Coach bags this year?”

  “Um, thanks,” I say, wondering if there are any in the pile that didn’t involve the killing of an inhumanely raised cow.

  “Guess who shopped at the pet store today.”

  “Um, like, PETA? Ghandi? Madonna? Is it someone with more than one name?”

  “Unitarian Green,”

  Kath gasped, cocked her head and gave me a wry smile while smirking. “No-oo?”

  “Ye-es.” I hated when I sink to Kath’s Val speak, but sometimes that shit is just so contagious.

  “I, like, told you he likes you?”

  I told Kathy my whole sad story of the day. The hand cleaning, the coffee shop, the talk of fucking, the near-collision with the jogger, Unit’s warning and me sitting in some wet goo again.

  “Except for the hand cleaning, which is, actually, like, grody, the rest is soooo just like Bella and Edward? I mean, like, you’re clumsy and have a ditsy mother and he’s, like, gorgeous, rich and dangerous? He even rescued you from a totally imminent collision? Don’t you see?”

  “Great, I’m about to graduate from college and I’ve finally gotten a romance that qualifies as a high-school level infatuation.”

  “Ye-ah, but, like, you’re both infatuated? So, that’s, like, perfect.”

  “I don’t think it’s perfect. He told me to stay away from him.”

  “But, like, he didn’t say he was gonna stay away from you? And, like, you never do what anyone tells you to? Besides, that’s, like, sooo Bella and Edward?”

  “You know, there are differences between me and Bella. I have friends. And I wear colors. Bella would never wear tie dye.”

  There’s a knock at the door. Kath answers it. It’s always some gorgeous guy dropping in to ogle her. I don’t get visitors unless I’ve scheduled a protest committee meeting or a poetry reading at the apartment.

  Kath comes back with a package in her hand. “It’s, like, for you? I, like, had to sign for it?”

  I carefully remove the attractive, yet eco-sensitive wrapping, putting the paper into the recycling bin and wondering if I can compost the twine. It looks like natural fiber twine, but some of those synthetic fibers can be so deceiving.

  Inside the package is a first edition of “Twilight!” The inscription says
, “Nasty, Any friend of Unitarian’s can call me any time. 747-555-8267 Steph”

  “Wow. That is, like, so freaky? We were just talking about ‘Twilight’ and, like, boom, the book shows up? You and Green are, like, definitely on the same, like, wavelength?”

  “Why would he tell me to stay away from him, then send me such an extravagant present?”

  “Du-uh. Because, like, he really doesn’t want you to stay away?”

  Whatever the reason, I am impressed that he was able to get the book so quickly. I mean, Stephenie Meyer must have dropped everything to autograph it for him.

  The next few days I take all my exams and some of Kath’s. And that’s it! Our college years had come to an end! Or, at least mine did. Kath had a tendency to not pass courses.

  “Want to, like, celebrate? A bunch of the girls are, like, going to go to the mall on a shopping spree, then we’re gonna hook up with some totally awesome guys and eat a bunch of, like, totally unhealthy takeout food and barf it up? Then, we’ll, like, smoke some cigs to help us stay thin?

  “I’ll, um, hook up with you after the shopping. Where should I meet you?”

  “Um, like, the Greasy Sub at 8?”

  “Sounds good.” I probably wasn’t going to barf or smoke, but getting together sounded like fun.

  When I arrive at 8, Hoseme is already there talking to Kath. Even though she is a gorgeous, well manicured, perfectly dressed, petite goddess, Hoseme immediately comes over to sit by me.

  “You look great, Nasty. Is that a new peasant skirt?”

  “No. Just haven’t worn this one in awhile. It’s my celebration skirt.”

  “Must feel good to be done, huh?” Hoseme still had a year to go.

  “Sure does!” I smiled at Hoseme as he patted me on my back.

  “Take your hands off the young lady!” It was Unit! What was he doing here?

  “What?” Hoseme jumps away, surprised.

  “Did she ask you to touch her?”

  “Uh, no…”

  “Then, I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate your advances. You’re not her boyfriend.”

  Green put a protective arm around me and started escorting me to his car.

  “Have you gorged on junk food yet? Have you vomited? Please tell me you haven’t had a cigarette?”

  “What? No! I don’t do those things. What are you doing here?”

  “I just happened to be in the neighborhood with my cousin, Fabio. I’d introduce you to him, but he’s busy being seduced by your roommate.”

  I looked over at Kath. Unit called it correctly. Kath had her hands all over Fabio’s shirt. It was probably from some very, very exclusive designer.

  “I guess I won’t be seeing much of her tonight.”

  “Then, come to my place.”

  “Your place? I thought you were dangerous?” I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head, hiding a smirk with a wry smile.

  “I think bulimia and lung cancer are worse than I am. Come with me so I know you’ll be safe tonight. Hoseme looks like he might have an STD.”

  “Well…if you insist…”

  “I do.” Not much use in me resisting. Unit had already guided me to his sports car and my insides were not only tightening up again, they were squirming their own little dance moves inside my pelvis.

  Unit drove his car down to the pier and onto a yacht. He briefly introduced me to Michael Caine, his chauffeur, butler and yacht captain.

  “So good to meet you, Ms. Lime.” Caine clicked his heels and gave a slight bow.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Caine.” I didn’t know whether to offer my hand or curtsey – so I flushed, swallowed and cocked my head. Caine’s slight cockney accent was kind of sexy.

  We spent most of the cruise in Unit’s sports car. Unit seemed anxious about me sitting anywhere else. But, it was nice and private in there so we could have a good talk.

  “I want to defrock you, Ms. Lime, but first you need to sign some contracts.” Unit pulled out a stack of paperwork and started handing contracts to me one by one. I busily started signing.

  “This one is an agreement not to disclose anything that happens between us to anyone ever…This stipulates that you have no physical contact with any other man – or woman – not of my selection, during the term of our sexual relationship…This is your consent to engage in sex with me or anyone I designate at anytime I specify, but only on weekends…This is your consent for me to punish you in any way I see fit, such as beatings…This is your consent to whatever kinky sex I desire such as use of butt plugs, restraints, hanging – though never by your neck – etc….This is your consent to have your tubes tied, you’ll see that I agree to have them untied at my expense when we cease our sexual relationship…This one stipulates that you won’t attend a Catholic Mass or Confessional…This one gives me control over your wardrobe…”

  “Wait a minute! What does control over my wardrobe mean?”

  “I’ll select your clothes for you. Do you own anything other than peasant skirts and tie-dye?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’ll have more suitable clothing delivered to your apartment.”

  “Suitable for what?!”

  “Well, for instance, evening gowns for formal fundraising affairs, suits when you accompany me on business, leather priestess costumes for sexual encounters…”

  “Oh. Fine. As long as they’re made of organic, natural fibers by fair-wage workers laboring under humane conditions…and the leather has to be from cows that died of old age.”

  “Very well.”

  There were so many papers, by the time I finished signing, my hand was sore. When I told Unit about that, he got an erection.

  “Oh, Ms. Lime, I so enjoy the idea of making you sore.”

  “Why, Master Green, I’m sure it won’t take much. I’m a virgin.”

  “A virgin! You mean to tell me you’ve never had a penis in your vagina?”

  I cocked my head and gave him a wry smile. “Why, no, Master Green.”

  “What about fingers…dildos…small animals…large animals…vegetables…chalices…crucifixes?”

  I shook my head “no” to each suggestion. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No, I can work around that. I mean, you’ve already got the paperwork filled out, so no reason not to forge ahead.”

  It seemed like we docked, drove off the boat and into Unitarian’s parking garage in no time. He had the top three floors of his office building transformed into living quarters. The car drove straight into the elevator. When elevator door opened to the penthouse apartment, Michael Caine was somehow already there. He stepped into the elevator and opened the car door for me. As soon as I stood up, I realized that I’d once again managed to sit in some goo in Unitarian’s car.

  “How could I wind up sitting in goo in your car?”

  Unitarian leaned over and wiped his hand along the seat where I’d just been sitting. “That goo is from you, my dear.” He then licked his hand clean with a devilish look in his eyes and a wry smile.

  “What?” I was so confused.

  “No need to be concerned. I’ll explain it all to you later. Right now, Dr. Ian M. Gawd is going to tie your tubes. I’ve had the guest room set up as an operatory. It’s a very simple procedure. You won’t feel a thing. And you’ll be better than new in no time.

  And then I was whisked away by a team of nurses and put under anesthesia. When I woke up, it was morning and I was in bed with Unitarian. He smiled at me.

  “Am I dreaming?”I was sure that I was.

  “That you had your tubes tied last night? No. Do you have any discomfort?”

  I wasn’t really talking about the operation. I was talking about waking up in bed with Unitarian Green and his long, elegant fingers – but I decided against explaining myself.

  “No. I wouldn’t say I have discomfort. A little tenderness, that’s all.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want anyone but me inflicting pain on you now that you’re mine.”
<
br />   “I’m yours? I like that.” I nuzzled into his chest.

  “Oh, yes, you’re mine, Nasty. All mine body, mind and soul. And mine alone.” He kissed me gently.

  I felt my insides tighten and squirm. I kissed him back much deeper and threw my leg around his thigh, drawing his body close to mine.

  “Careful, Nasty, you’ve just had surgery. We can’t get you worked up for 48 hours.”

  “Two days! That’s forever!” I thrust my breasts into his chest and dropped one hand down to cup his butt.

  Unitarian jumped out of bed. “Stop!”

  “What’s the matter?” I thought I might have somehow injured him.

  “You are not to touch my butt. Ever. No one touches my butt.”

  “I…I’m sorry. I thought you’d like it.”

  Unitarian’s dark look softened. “It’s just a thing with me, okay? I don’t like to talk about my personal life and I don’t like my butt touched.”

  “Okay. Quirks noted.”

  Unitarian softened (his demeanor, not his dick). “Just as well that we stopped heading in the direction we were going. We don’t want to accidentally rip your stitches open. Any physical damage to you should only be on purpose. You understand?”

  Not really, but I gave him a wry smile anyway. Who’s going to argue with a naked dreamboat? He answers with his sardonic smile. All is good in the world.

  Chapter 4

  Since Unitarian was determined that we not get anything going on in the bedroom, I figured I might as well shower and dress. I spied the brush in the bathroom and couldn’t resist! Using Unit’s toilet bowl brush as a shower brush was so deliciously HOT! I imagined tiny Unitarian fecal particles caressing my body as I scrubbed my back. It was like being inside his butt! And I sure wasn’t going to get in there any other way based on his behavior a few minutes ago.

  When I walk back into the bedroom, naked and dampish, I’m disappointed to find Unit isn’t there. But, brand new clothes are laid out for me on the bed. Quite the interesting selection, too.

  A black and red lace pushup bra. A matching thong. A see-through black lace top. And the shortest shorts I’d ever seen. They were microscopic. They didn’t cover