So my wife asked me to read Fifty Shades of Grey. I hesitated, but finally agreed to listen to the audiobook, because (like many) couldn’t bring myself to tote around the tell-tale grey-tied book cover. Went to audible and downloaded it to my cell phone so I could discretely listen to the story.
I was at the YMCA early one morning when it’s typically filled with senior citizens and middle aged folk, and I started some stretches. I popped in my earbuds and opened my audible app. Pressing play, nothing happened.
Figuring the volume was turned down, I jacked it up. Even though the volume was turned to the max, I could only faintly register the voice of the reader.
I spent about a minute investigating my audible app and searching my phone’s settings page, all the while hearing a faint voice recounting the story of a red room of pain equipped with whips, riding crops, and nipple clamps.
I attempted adjusting the cord, and that’s when my heart shot to my throat, as if I were suspended upside down by Mr. Grey himself. My earbuds weren’t plugged in, and my phone was broadcasting its dirty tome to the Y’s grey-haired visitors. I plugged in my earbuds and ran, red-faced, to a treadmill.
I don’t think the seniors at the Y will look at me the same way again. Damn you, Mr. Grey.
Post-script: While writing this post and attempting to pull this image from my phone, the story popped back on, reading aloud to everyone in the coffee shop. Oh my.
Post-post-script: What’s up with Anastasia Steele’s inner George Takei?