Fifty Shades of Shade - "The Fifty Shades of Grey Parady" Read Online Free

whispers a word to me: intriguing . It was a weird moment.
                  “To start, I’m looking for the most jagged strangling wire you have.”
                  “I don’t think we sell anything like that here.”
                  “Okay. I’ll take some cable ties.”
                  Cable ties .
                  “Sure,” I say, voice quivering. “Follow me.”
                  Keep it together, dumbshit .
                  “They’re with the electrical cords. Aisle eight.” My voice is prepubescent.
                  “After you,” he gestures, with his smoked, cured, and honey-glazed hands.
                  With my heart giving my throat Indian burns and purple nurples I head down the aisle. Why is he here? In Portland of all places.
                  And then I think, crazily, he’s here to see me . The thought puts me in a headlock and noogies me. No way! Wh y would this perfect, beautiful beauty of a man come to see me ?
                  “Are you here on business?” I ask. My voice is glass-splittingly high.
                  “I was visiting the farming division in Oregon. Checking on soil solvents.”
                  “Being eco-friendly?”
                  “Something like that.” His lips smirk at me in a smirky way. My heart is aflutter. Like a centipede.
                  “Anything else I can get you?”
                  “Masking tape.”
                  Masking tape .
                  “Yes, masking tape,” I repeat to my subconscious. “Why do you need masking tape?” I turn and ask him. “Redecorating?”
                  “No, not exactly.” He’s laughing at me on the inside. I can feel it. Mostly because he’s laughing at me on the outside too.
                  “Well, right this way. It’s in the decorating-slash-suspicious activities aisle.”
                  As I bend down and grab the masking tape we stock, I can’t shake how awkward and nervous I feel.
                  “Have you worked here long?” he asks.
                  “Oh, well it’s six ninety-nine per roll,” I say, holding out the tape.
                  “No, I asked if you’ve worked here long.”
                  “I agree. It’s gotten much colder out.” I hope he doesn’t notice how nervous I am. Our fingers brush as I hand him the masking tape. The electricity is sent through my body down between…well, whatever it is I have down between my legs.
                  “Anything else you need?”
                  “Five yards of natural filament rope.”
                  “It’s right here, in the same suspicious activities aisle,” I casually point out. I take out a knife and cut exactly the amount of rope he needs.
                  He’s watching me cut. “Were you ever a samurai assassin, Chastity ?”
                  “No.”
                  “A girl scout, then?”
                  “Organized group activities are not really my thing.”
                  “What is your thing, Chastity ?” His smile is cool, his voice deep and husky, like a suave wolverine in a smoking jacket would be, if it spoke human language.
                  My subconscious is having an epileptic attack ! You are my thing, I want to say. But instead I murmur, “Books.”
                  “What kind of books?”
                  “British literature. Also literature from Engla nd, Wales, and Scotland .”
                  He rubs his chin and looks at me. Chin-rubbing must mean he’s brain-thinking.
                  “Anything else I can help you with?”