An Excerpt From My New Book “Twenty-eight Shades of Chartreuse”

I would like to present an excerpt from my upcoming book “Twenty-eight Shades of Chartreuse” for your review.  To provide you with some context, this scene finds your protagonist, Woody Symbolic, at the mercies of the indomitable Gertrude Chartreuse.

With my apologies to E.L. James, author of the “Fifty Shades of Grey” tril- nah, fuck that.  No apologies whatsoever.

Twenty-eight Shades of Chartreuse, Adam Avitable's parody of Fifty Shades of Grey

Pouting, I stare longingly at the dark and foreboding beach, waves crashing darkly as the darkness overwhelms me with its inky blackness.  “Mr. Symbolic,” she announces quietly, her voice taut with displeasure and something else that borders on passion mixed with angry lust.

“Yes, Miss Chartreuse?” I ask questioningly, turning, hesitantly, to face her, knowing that just the sight of her would cause my blood to rush and my pulse to race.  Gertrude Chartreuse stands facing me, wearing a white blouse from Lane Bryant that fits snugly across her expansive, broad torso, a silver pin-striped jacket that costs more than my entire wardrobe, and a severe dark blue skirt that tapers at her knees.

“Stop that,” she commands in an authoritative voice.

“Stop what?” I question askingly, even though I know the answer.

“Stop picking your nose.  You know what that does to me.”  I’d rather pick your nose myself, she said to me only two weeks earlier, when we first met.  I was delivering a package to Chartreuse Industries when I literally tripped over my untied shoelaces and fell into Gertrude’s strong, willful grasp.

Feeling impulsively rebellious, I arch my finger towards my nose and slide it inside gently, watching her eyes widen and hearing her take a sharp breath.  “Get over here, Mr. Symbolic,” she demands commandingly.  “It’s time for your punishment.”

Yes! No! Maybe! Inside, my subconscious begins to pummel me for being so indecisive.  He begins to fight with my inner god, who is dancing and celebrating at another sacrifice being made on the altar of my utter humiliation.  I ignore them both and start moving, slowly, towards this insatiable mountain of a woman, flashing back to our first open, honest, forthright exchange . . .

From:  Gertrude Chartreuse
Subject:  Summary of my email
Date:  June 3 2011 1:43 PM
To:  Woody Symbolic

I have been thinking about you all day.  Can I buy you a yacht?

Gertrude Chartreuse
CEO, Chartreuse Industries


From:  Woody Symbolic
Subject:  I like to change the subjects every time I email because I don’t really understand how email works
Date:  June 3 2011  1:44 PM
To:  Gertrude Chartreuse

Jeez, that seems mighty rude of you.  Fuck yes you can!  Jeez.  Fuck.  Jeezfuck.



From:  Gertrude Chartreuse
Subject:  Okay, I’ll have my assistant
Date:  June 3 2011 1:46 PM
To:  Woody Symbolic

take care of it.

Gertrude Chartreuse
CEO, Chartreuse Industries

It was at that moment that I knew, completely and entirely surely, with only a lot of doubts and hesitation, that I would do anything for that beautiful handsome woman as long as she kept buying me things.  And anything was about to happen.

Gertrude grabs me and holds me flush against her body.  Suddenly her hand is gripping my head as she kisses me long, hard, and passionately, her tongue in my mouth, which is apparently what happens during long, hard passionate kisses.  She stares at me, her one good eye dark and mysterious yet filled with a spark of mischief and good humor.  Her other eye looks in the opposite direction, so I don’t know what it is filled with.

“Oh, Miss Chartreuse,” I breathe breathlessly.  Her answer takes form in her actions, clasping her hands tightly on either side of my head and forcing it down her broad, rippling chest and her powerful, barrel-like stomach, until I face that spot that clothes and covers the most wonderful of all spots . . . her sex.

With a flick of her wrist, she pulls me to my feet.  “Take your clothes off and lay on the bed,” she growls with passion, her eye flashing with heat and desire.

I comply, eagerly, yet hesitant of the pain that may come.  Do I trust Gertrude, with her newly waxed mustache and lumberjack arms, to stop before she hurts me?  Before she bruises me and makes me black and blue with bruises?  My subconscious is too busy watching last night’s Mad Men to do anything, and my inner god is just jumping around yelling “Jeezfuck”, so I go for it.

Naked, laying on the bed, I feel the room shake as Gertrude approaches.  With the speed of a really fast rhinoceros, she’s upon me, first tying my hands to the bedposts, then my feet. I watch as she eases out of her clothes like someone shucking a really large ear of corn. Moaning, I revel in the sensation of the sound of a slightly squishy thud as her panties fall to the ground

Her bosom heaving, Gertrude pulls out a foil packet from behind her back, smiling at me with her mouth.  I hear the foil crinkle in that packet, and then she’s ready, holding it in her hand.  She groans as she sits astride me, kneeling over me, with her sex hovering over my sex.

“Ready?” she asks breathingly.

“Yes,” I whisper quietly, and Gertrude eases herself onto me, slowly, fantastically slowly, until I am filling her sex with my sex.  I moan because the sensation of the merging of sexes causes me to experience a pleasurable feeling.

As she moves up slowly and then down slowly, and then up slowly again, Gertrude reveals the contents of the foil package.  “Eat,” she whispers passionately, “I need you to eat.”  She holds the newly unwrapped Ding Dong towards my mouth and thrusts it inside.  “Eat!”

For the rest of the erotic adventures of Woody Symbolic and Gertrude Chartreuse, you can purchase the amazing, compelling, award-winning “Twenty-eight Shades of Chartreuse” for only $29.99 in places where books like this are sold.  So, like, Hot Topic, Dillard’s, and the BlogHer conference?

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64 Replies to “An Excerpt From My New Book “Twenty-eight Shades of Chartreuse””

  1. Jana

    You had me at, “Her other eye looks in the opposite direction, so I don’t know what it is filled with.”

    You should publish this. As is. Right now. You’ll be a bestseller in NO TIME.

  2. Brooke

    My subconscious would totally be watching “The Walking Dead.” Yours is clearly far smarter and more intelligent than mine in terms of intelligence.

    (Everything about this is my favorite ever. Especially the redundant redundancies.)

  3. It's Just Mo

    I was going to say this was pitch perfect, but it’s lacking in spelling/grammatical errors and obscure Britishisms that few Americans have heard of, and none would actually say. So, I give it 4.7 stars, out of five.

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