Monday, 28 May 2012

Fifty Shades of José: Three More Shades of Grey: Further Encounters in The Red Room of Pain #2

As I drive home from Christian’s house, fresh spank marks on my behind and my body still quivering and in shock because heaven forbid after several weeks of regular intense sexual intercourse I should be accustomed to what an orgasm feels like, I pull into the drive to see José sitting on the steps of my house.  I put the handbrake on and then put the car into park, and then turn off the engine.  I also turn off the radio, and then undo my seatbelt and open the car door.  I step out of the car and then close the door and lock it. 
“What are you doing here, José?”
“I want to apologise for trying to bone you the other night.”  Ooooh. How dare he?  He was so aggressive and scary last night, if Christian hadn’t been there he may very well have raped me at that bar but it’s okay I suppose, because he’s like a brother to me and so we’re cool.
“That’s okay, José.”
“So you’re not mad?”  He is so sweet!  And so sexy and handsome!  But I’ll never do the sex with him because even though there’s like 5 blokes all after me, I’m sure that no man will ever be interested in me.
“No way, José!” I say, and we laugh together for a solid three minutes.  Then there’s an awkward moment of silence where neither of us say anything, so we both start laughing again.
Then José has this serious look, and I can’t help but think that right now I’d rather be curled up in front of the fire with a good classic English novel.
“Ana, I must tell you something that is very serious, so serious that it hurts my Latino heart.  It makes me sad in a way that makes me want to walk barefoot along the beach alone really early in the morning, in a tight white t-shirt and stone-washed jeans, thinking about things and feeling feelings that you’ll never fully understand.” Oohhhh.  Holy crap. He’s so brooding and serious, even though moments ago we were cracking up over some shitty pun that I made. 
“Tell me.” I say.
“I can’t, I mustn’t.”
“Please… oh please!” It seemed to work on Christian, maybe it will work on José.
“Ok, I’ll tell you.” Wow.  Holy crap.  It worked. “I’ve been seeing someone.  Someone….dangerous.” Wow.  Oh my god.  Ohhhhh crap.
“José, you must tell me!”  I am wearing jeans and a t-shirt, by the way.
“Yeah I’m going to tell you, you just sort of interrupted me there.”
“Please, José, just tell me.”
He sighed, and looked at the floor. “I have been seeing someone.  Someone who says they love me, but I don’t know if…”
“Don’t know if what?”  Wow.  Holy crap. This was almost as exciting as one of the classic English novels that I like to curl up in front of the fire with.
“Seriously, you have to stop interrupting me like that.”  Why was he so moody and distant all of a sudden?  “She’s older than me, you see.  She’s more…experienced.  Anastasia,” he says, taking my hands in his, “she makes me do things that I have never done before.”  I bet those things she makes him do aren’t as sexy and weird as the things Christian and I get up to, spanking and shagging in the bath and all that.  He is silent for a moment, and I wonder if he hates me now, because if a man isn’t telling you that he loves you every single minute of the day, it means he doesn’t like you anymore and that you probably need to try harder to win their affection, seeing as I’m the expert on men and relationships after a few weeks in a highly dysfunctional one.
“Like what?  Do it in the shower or something?” I say, with a lot of sarcasm but I can get away with it because sometimes José doesn’t understand things like sarcasm and irony because he’s kind of foreign.  He is quiet, and I want to tell him how much I love him right there and then, even though I don’t actually love him, it’s just that fact that he’s being all moody and silent. Wowee.
He takes a deep breath, and lifts his shirt up on one side to reveal a bruised and scratched rib cage.
“Oh my god, José!” I scream, “has she got like a really angry cat?”
He rolls his eyes and rubs his temple.  “No, Ana.  She did this to me.  And I enjoyed it.”  For a minute we both sit in silence; he probably thinks I’m having trouble processing the fact that someone could enjoy a bit of rough, but really what I’m thinking is how mad I am at him for stealing my thing.  But I don’t say anything cos I’m such an awesome friend, and I won’t be able to flirt with him and lead him on anymore if he thinks I hate him, because he’s like a brother to me.
“It’s just that… I don’t know what to do.  I want to tell her how much I love her, and hold her close to me after we…. you know,” he blushes, “but she never lets me.  Elena is such a wonderful woman, and I -” I stand up.  Damn.  Holy crap. This is just like a twist in one of those classic novels that I love to read when I’m curled up in front of the fire.
“Oh my gosh, did you just say Elena?” I can’t believe it.  He’s the me to Elena’s Christian, or something like that, it’s kind of a complicated sentence to construct and process.
“Yeah, Elena.  She’s so sexy, and mature.  When she tells me to do something….I want to do it, Ana.”  My face fills with blood as I become almost uncontrollably jealous, but because I’m only almost uncontrollably jealous, I manage to control my jealousy. I can't believe that Christian's ex-lover is now my friend's current lover.
“Oh yeah, well check this out!” I say, yanking down my trousers to reveal the massive bruise on my left butt cheek.  José stares at it for a second, and then lowers his own jeans to reveal a similar bruise on his right butt cheek.  He stands next to me and puts his bruise next to mine, and we waddle over to my car together to use the wing mirrors for a reflection to see better.
Together, our bruises form an oval shape, and on closer inspection…Damn.  Ooooh.  Holy crap.  Wow.
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
“What?” says José.  He’s never been that smart, to be honest, so no wonder he didn’t get it.
“That’s a perfect image of a map of the world, José.”
“No way!”
“Yes way, José.”  We laugh again, but this time only for about ten seconds before realising what we had just been talking about.  We turn our butt cheeks, still tightly pressed together, back toward the wing mirror, and take another look.  I let out a gentle fart which I’m sure José wouldn’t have noticed but the wing mirror clouds up for a few seconds, which I reckon gives it away.  I’m about to come up with some kind of excuse when my phone rings.  I answer the phone.
“Hello?”  There is a crackly noise on the other end, and then a deep voice speaks.
“It has begun.”

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