Fifty Shades of Lies

for what-ever’s. If she scores, she gets a ring valued at 75k and a superrich husband in six weeks after the show airs. Not a bad deal, if that’s what you’re looking for. I had to do this, for my two-minute younger sister. All I knew was she owed me a day at the luxurious, Roberto’s of Italy spa for the epic favor I was doing for her. It was the least she could do.

Shit. The traffic came to a shrieking halt. Welcome to Los Angeles. Staying calm. I was not far. My destination was hundred yards ahead of me, the headquarters of Mr. Maximillion’s International Enterprise. Wow, it looked like a huge twelve-story building, all black glass at the bottom and red steel that had a curved roof. It was very subliminal, resembling a huge penis. An erotic fantasy building. I was almost there, and feeling so damn lucky.

I did a fast U-turn into an empty parking space right out front. One last peek in the mirror— mirror, mirror in this car whose the prettiest sister by far? You are of course Grey-Ana, the prettiest sister by far, my reflection answered, correctly. This built my confidence.

* * *

As I approached the building I could see Mr. Maximillion’s name was written discreetly in red steel over the glass front doors. I flashed at my watch. It was a quarter till two. I felt an immense sense of relief that I was not late, as I walked into the enormous, frankly intimidating, all glass building. In the ground lobby level steel grout lines encompassed the black marble tiles. Very impressive. My heels echoed, as I crossed the floor.

Behind the solid black marble desk a very attractive blonde haired young woman smiled pleasantly at me. She was wearing the tiniest mini dress I have ever seen. I am talking—it was the equivalent to the size of a dinner napkin, at Red Lobster. Her breasts were bulging over the top of her blouse. They looked like a shelf, or two small cafe tables covered by her little napkin dress.

“I’m here to see Mr. Maximillion. I am his two o’clock appointment.” So far, so good, I haven’t had to lie.

“Excuse me. One moment, Miss Ridame.” She arched her eyebrow slightly as I stood self-consciously in front of her.

I began to wish I had borrowed one of Bleu-Rae’s miniskirts rather than wearing my Sunday best. Instead, I wanted to look that part of a sweet wife. I had really made an effort and wore my one and only church dress. It was pink, a baby-doll mini dress, loosely worn with sensible four-inch black stilettos. I layered it with a pale green sweater that was tied around my neck; this added a country club preppy touch. For me… this was a smart look. I tucked one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear, pretending she didn’t intimidate me. She certainly did, I thought I saw a hint of her perky nipples gasping for sunlight.

“They are expecting you, Miss Bleu-Rae. Please sign in here, first”—Don’t call me by that name, I cringed inwardly—“You will want to take the end elevator on the left, press the button for the thirteenth floor.” She smiled kindly at me, amused no doubt as I signed in. I signed using my surname, Miss Ridame.

“The thirteenth floor?” I gasped. I had always thought high-rises beyond twelve stories banned the thirteenth floor. I counted twelve stories from the outside of this building. What the hell.

“It’s the best,” she grinned wolfishly. “Hurry along. You don’t want to be late.”

A strange energy ran through me and pooled in the pit of my stomach. My eyes flashed to a sign posted on a painted black door marked: STAIRS. I contemplated taking them for a microsecond.

“You don’t want to go there,” the receptionist shook her head from side to side, reinforcing her suggestion.

It felt like my lucky day had just taken a turn for the worst. This was a major dilemma for me. There was no way I would go to the thirteenth floor of any building, for anything, not even for Bleu-Rae. Panic rose in me. I felt a sudden onset of hot flashes, my hands shook fervently and the room began to spin out of control. The receptionist grabbed my hand. Good think, because two-seconds later, I would have been laid out on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes widened oddly. Suddenly, they appeared a bit too large for her tiny pillow face.

“Err… ah yeah. I think so, perhaps, I am just hungry,” I managed to smile, my legs wobbled like a ladder made of rubber. “It’s just, well, I am superstitious,” I admitted.

She flashed me a watchful expression. “Oh here, it will pass—that happened to me when I started working here,” she giggled and bit the inside of her cheek. “Take a sip of this.” She opened a small glass container filled with a light colored liquid. It looked like the color of pee. Eww. I waved my hand to decline. “It’s apple juice, the boss insist that we drink one glass a day, or we substitute it with an apple… It helps keep the devil away,” she smarted.

“Doctor,” I hesitantly corrected her, still trying to gain my equilibrium.

“Yeah, whatever,” she retorted back. Apparently, I had offended her, but, jeez did she want to go around embarrassing herself. I mean holy shit. This is an old adage that everyone should know. Everyone. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Dumb ass blond.

“No thanks. I am feeling better,” I smiled, paused and glanced toward the entry door hoping that someone would walk in and ride up with me.

“Well, suit yourself, scoot along now before you catch hell—o, gorgeous,” she whispered under her breath, as her eyes flashed to a handsome man that was approaching us, so did mine. It was obvious to me he was security. He was overwhelming gorgeous. Did everyone around here have to be a ten when it came to being attractive?

She quickly pushed a security pass in my hand—it read “visitor” very firmly stamped on the front. It was apparent she wanted me out of there in a hurry so she could flirt with Mr. Steamy. I paused, staring down at the slip of paper. I thought it was obvious that I was a fucking visitor. I did not fit in here at all…

“Is everything okay here, Robin?” He eyed her like she was a piece of candy.

“Yes, I am trying to get our visitor to go to the thirteenth floor before she is late for her two o’clock with Mr. Maximillion,” she pursed her lips, frustration lingered on her face. Dang was I in trouble now?

“I see. Listen Ms,” he eyed at me up and down. “You will be fine going to the thirteenth floor. We do it all the time. It is a breeze; it’s not like your going to—hel—lo—hold on.” The phone attached to his belt simultaneously began to ring. “I have to take this.” He snatched out his cell and made a speedily getting away down the hall.

“What? Did he say it’s not like I am going to hell…?” I hesitantly asked Robin, the receptionists if what I thought I heard him say was correct.

“No,” she giggled. “He said something about the bell—I think,” she gleefully smiled.

“I could swear… he said,” My voice trailed off.

“Go ahead and swear if you like, we all do it around here,” she sighed.

“No, I thought he said—never mind—what bell?” I asked, scanning the lobby.

“The one that is ringing, announcing that the elevators are coming down.” Her eyes rolled upward as she pointed her index finger into the air. “Do you hear them?”

Just then I heard a succession of bells—then the sound of elevator doors opening. They echoed in the stark lobby.

The reception sprang to her feet and yelled loudly, “Hold the doors.”

Without further thought, I swiftly ran to the elevator doors… three very beautiful blondes piled out. They were all blushing, giggling and sharing rhetoric about how handsome some guy was. They hardly noticed me and almost knocked me over.

“Excuse me,” I inwardly sighed, passing the girls by and stepped into the elevator.

Out of nowhere, another security guard, who was far more smartly dressed than me in a well-cut black suit leaped into the elevator. It felt like a cheesy scene in a movie that played out perfectly, all in the nick of time.

“I heard you needed an escort.” His face was very rugged, yet emotionally kind in some way.

“Oh dear, well, if you don’t mind,” I squealed.

My eyes flashed on the elevator floor keypad. Sure enough, the number 13 glowed the brightest. The guard nodded, pressing the button to the thirteenth floor and never said another word to me the entire way up. This made for a very awkward forty-five seconds. However, I didn’t mind gawking over his firm buns, in the meantime.

I am definitely an ass-woman, that doesn’t sound right—rephrase—I love a man with a tight ass. There is nothing sexier, than seeing a naked man from the rear; it is a sight that leaves me