Humour: Fifty Shades of Shite – Vol VIII
Git Grey nervously brushed his hair and fiddled with his tie as he got ready in his room in London’s Claridge’s. He was about to meet Ana and her mother Clara downstairs in the bar.
This had to go well. After he’d followed Ana onto the Stena Line ferry, he’d managed to convince her to give him another go. So he’d stalked her and annoyed her and had her arrested for being a suspected terrorist – was she going to hold it against him for life? They’d talked for hours, pacing the deck, watching the outline of Wales beginning to appear slowly on the horizon.
By the end of it she had agreed to meet with him for a drink once they got to London and she’d insisted he meet her mother, to get her opinion. If he was ever going to get his bit again, this meeting was crucial.
‘Ok Git,’ he addressed himself in the mirror. ‘Don’t fuck this up, righ’? Remember what Ana said; she’s an independent woman and all that jazz burds go on with.’ Loada shite, he thought, as he splashed aftershave on himself, all burds wanted was the ring on their finger and the life of Reilly, but you had to humour them, didn’t you?
Taking a deep breath, he strode from the room, tweaking the bedspread on the way out. Hopefully he’d be bringing Ana back here later and he wanted everything to be perfect.
Down in the bar, Ana was waiting with her mother, sipping a Cosmo, wearing jeans and a silky camisole. You’d think she’d have dressed up a bit, this was Claridge’s for Jaysis sake, Git thought, but at least he could see her nipples through the thin material. That was something.
The Ma wasn’t bad either. For an oul wan like. At least Ana wouldn’t turn into a total cow when she got older. He’d have to turn on the charm.
‘Mrs Steele,’ he bellowed, swooping in for a kiss. ‘You look the business, fair play to ya. Some wimmin let themselves go once they reach middle-age but you’re in your prime so you are. I can see where your daughter gets her tits, I mean looks, from!’
‘Mam, this is Git,’ Ana said wearily, rolling her eyes and taking a hearty slug of her drink.
‘A pleasure,’ Mrs Steele said, looking stunned – probably imagining the size of his lad – and shaking his hand briefly.
They settled in with their drinks and made awkward small talk to pass the time.
‘So, em, Git,’ Mrs Steele started, cautiously. ‘Ana tells me you’re in business. What exactly do you do?’
‘Ah ya know yourself, a bit o’ this, a bit o’ that. Wheelin’ and dealin’, that sort of thing. Tell ya the God’s honest truth, I’m not too sure. I’ve a board runs things for me, ya know, so I just let them get on with it and keep raking in the cash. I’ve the life sure don’t I?’ Git barked laughing, delighted with himself.
‘Oh I see,’ Mrs Steele replied, lost for words. ‘That’s, em, very interesting alright.’
Git ordered another round of drinks – couldn’t hurt – and launched loudly into an account of his last night out with the lads which involved falling off the Molly Malone statue at 3am.
Clara Steele looked at Ana and cocked an eyebrow at Git. ‘Really?’ she murmured, mystified.
‘Ah, he’s not that bad. I’ve had worse,’ Ana whispered, looking resigned. ‘He’s generous enough and makes me laugh. Mostly at him. But still, at least I’m laughing. Right?’
Clara Steele shrugged and downed the last of her drink. ‘Whatever you want, darling,’ she said, getting to her feet.
‘I’m off, Git,’ she said, interrupting his description of what he’d said to the Garda after being caught pissing against an ATM. ‘It was lovely to meet you. You two have a nice evening.’
Git breathed a sigh of relief as she left. That hadn’t been too bad. She hadn’t said much so he’d had to cover the silences but at least he had some great stories to tell.
‘Are ya right?’ he asked Ana, motioning with his head towards the lift. ‘Will we go up to the room, then? Come on, it’s been days. It has a jacuzzi and everything!’
Grabbing her hand he pulled her towards the lift, suddenly desperate to have her. Bursting into the door of his suite, he tugged her into the bathroom, all marble tiles and cool glass.
Kissing her, he slid his hand inside her cami – YESSSS no bra! – to fondle her breasts, unzipping her jeans with the other hand. Pulling off his own clothes, he was naked within seconds, thrusting against her.
‘Git wait,’ Ana breathed, struggling to free herself. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. It’s, well, ehm…’
‘Spit it out, Ana,’ Git said, pulling her jeans down over her knees. ‘I’m gagging here.’
‘I don’t think we can tonight, Git,’ Ana said, desperately, trying to stop him removing her knickers. ‘It’s just I’m … I’m …’
‘Ah Jaysis!’ Git exclaimed, copping on. ‘You ARE on the rag, aren’t you?!’ He looked in horror at the tampon string between Ana’s legs, trying to stop himself from puking in the sink.
‘I tried to tell you,’ Ana said. ‘But listen, it’s not a big deal. I can remove this and we can still … you know. Some people say it’s actually better during … You can even take it out yourself if you’d like, be a bit kinky.’
‘Jaysis NO!’ Git exclaimed, horrified. ‘You must be joking! No way am I doin’ that. I don’t know what bukes YOU’VE been reading but there’s no way I’m touching that! It’d be all over me. That’s disgustin’!’
Looking a bit green about the gills, Git quickly got dressed and handed Ana her jeans. Quicker she covered THAT up the better.
‘Come on,’ he said, wearily. ‘We’ll just cuddle, will we?’ Throwing himself on to the bed, he hoped Ana wouldn’t get the wrong end of the stick. They were only cuddling tonight cos of this. She better not get used to it.
Pulling Ana to his chest, he sighed heavily. She’d probably fall in love with him now, and then where would he be? He could feel this situation with Ana coming to a head; he had a big decision to make.