Sam Freeman

Storytelling | Theatre | Arts Marketing

Fifty Shades Of Ginger

…and then after that, well, there was nothing for it, we hi-fived!” concluded Christian Grey as he recounted another of his sexually deviant stories to the assorted group of red-blooded friends gathered around him in the Leek and Lion Pub just off Old Street. The old school friends met up like this every year to recall their school days towel whipping each other in homoerotic ways before beating up fatty, before updating and informing the others about the events of the previous 12 months. Suffice to say every year Christian Grey, pint of mild in hand, would unleash some sordid tales of threesomes, nipple clips and indoor swings with keys in a bowl, and every year the group would listen in awe as, in vivid detail he described every pulsating gasp of carnal pleasure, every last cry of orgasm and every last squelch of… “Another round?” Grey asked, addressing his now emasculated friends, “and by another round, I mean another round of conquest stories about me and my massive cock?” 

The group nodded fevourishly, begging for more exploits to fulfill their lust to fill their souls with ideals long defunct in their own marriages. Well, nearly all the group. In the corner, timid as a mouse a hand was raised. “I have a question?”

The hand belonged to Percy Ginger, or “Ginger” as he was known at school on account of it being his name. A middle aged man stoutly build with comfortable clothes, trainers, a beard halfway between possible serial killer and Father Christmas and a voice that sounded ominously like Alan Bennett. “I have a question?”

Grey paused, confused by this turn of events, this wasn’t how things usually went, usually he just talked about filth bagging he’d be slapping down until everyone’s ear drums exploded, a question was highly irregular.

“A question?” He replied, “why yes, of course”

A gasp rang around the room as eyes fixed on Ginger, silence descending. At the bar a man dropped a pin, “shut up you stupid fuckwanker” the barman hissed, “didn’t you hear, the normal man has a question“.

Ginger stood up, overly conscious as any good person should be of the eyes staring at him with wonderment and intrigue. “I was just wondering. Every year you tell us about the women you’ve seduced, about how you’ve been banging, bonking, knocking up, in and out, slamming down, giving some of the little G, or the G-man or the G-ster, shagging, humping, heffing, baffing and sexing. Every year you tell us about the sucking, licking, flicking, picking, wiping, nipping, tricking, blowing, chewing and dicking. We always listen to the things you do with different types of food, the bagel reverse 360, the double ended parsnip, sprout bead delight, and the banana split. And the girl’s themselves and how amazingly attractive they are and how they have both brains, looks and a secret to be revealed yet curiously the names of strippers, Mandy, Candy, Brandy, Roxie, Savannah, Paris, Destiny, Velvet and Britney. But what I really want to know is…”

The room held its collective breath, at the bar a man dropped the pin for the second time, “what the fuck is wrong with you” the barman hissed, “hold it still“.

Ginger paused, his eyes lifting from his shoes to stare deep into the eyes of Christian Grey, sexaholic, and… “what I really want to know is, do you ever just want a hug?”

Grey burst into tears, fountains erupting in his eyes, streams cascading down his face. “It’s all I want” he replied, “they just treat me like a piece of meat, I’m forced into it, I’m not a performing monkey, I just want a hug”. The group closed around him in his moment of need, comforting hugs offering reassurance and comradery. “It’s okay” said Ginger, “You’ve been so brave” said Silverhawk, “You can tell us” said another friend with a colour in his surname.

“My penis has sores.” Grey cried, “Everytime someone reads that book, that damn book, part of me dies. I’ve tried to be the big man, I’ve tried, but I’m scared, I don’t want to be a bloodied stump, I want to live, I want to live alone, I want to meet someone who just wants to hold me tight without three different bodily fluids covering us.”

“You can. You can. You’re safe now” Ginger whispered in his ear.
“It’s all bollocks, we all know it, it’s all bollocks”