Because I can totally write this shit... challenge accepted

I am certain that many of you have read and seen (on the train) and been told all about a smutty, mom-porn novel called "Fifty Shades of Grey". There are also two more books in the series.

I've read all three. I didn't learn anything new that I hadn't already gleaned from my teenage years of watching scrambled porn during sleepovers, perusing through someone's dad's copies of Penthouse and Hustler magazine and spending nights watching crazy fetish crap on the KINK channel.

During a recent train ride, my BFF and I were discussing how this mom-smut genre is exploding and surely it can't be hard to write a book along the same lines. She dared me to try. Challenge accepted.

I'm no where near done but I'm sharing what I have so far. Let me know if I should continue ... I know you're dying for the smut scene.

50 Shades of GO
CHAPTER ONE

© 2012 Cindy J. Smith

Cassie was late. She was super-shit-I-am-gonna-miss-the-train-late.

She'd circled the Oshawa GO Transit station parking lot seven times before she found a spot and while running across the parking lot in her kitten heels, she rummaged in her purse for her transit pass.

She was hot, sweaty and flustered. She launched herself onto the train with seconds to spare.

Settling into a seat, she pulled out her compact to assess the damage done by her 20-metre dash to the train.  Her hair had gone limp. Her mascara was smudged and she had toothpaste in the corner of her mouth. She fished out a tissue and repaired what she could.

It was only when she began hunting for her BlackBerry did she catch the eye of the man sitting across from her. He's new, she thought. Being a commuter train, she had gotten to know the regulars and considering the way his Armani suit hugged his muscular chest like a sausage casing wraps a sausage, Cassie certainly would have made it a point to remember a man like him.

Her eyes traveled slowly down to his shoes. He was impeccably dressed and she was sure his shoes cost more than what she made in a month. He caught her staring and smirked before returning to his newspaper. Cassie blushed from her toes to her ears. She found her BlackBerry and began scrolling through her calendar. What a busy day!

She was so tired. Kevin, her jerk boyfriend of seven years, decided that last night would be the perfect night for a boy's night in and she'd been kept awake by Kevin and his friends playing X-Box well into the wee hours of the morning. Kevin was a musician and marched to the beat of his own drum - literally. He was a drummer in a band called "Ready to Brew" and travelled and played the bar/college circuit. He made a decent wage but always seemed to forget that others had a regular nine to five job where sleep wasn't optional.

Cassie sighed. Kevin no longer seemed to measure up anymore. When she met him at 17, she thought he was exciting and hot. But seven years later, she had expected they'd be in a house they owned with a toddler and two cars in the driveway. Instead, they were still in his basement apartment and she was still driving the 15-year-old Toyota given to her by her mother. Nothing about her relationship was exciting anymore. Plus, all her college friends were getting engaged and planning weddings. She wanted a shot at being a bride!

Enough with the negative thoughts, Cassie scolded herself. She adjusted her skirt and arched her back. It was only a 50-minute train ride into Toronto but she needed to be comfortable so she could at least try to nap.

She must have drifted off because she awoke to a buzzing sound and someone tapping her knee. It was Armani. He was holding her BlackBerry. "It fell on the floor while you were sleeping," he said. She took it from him and looked at the display. Kevin! She rolled her eyes at Armani and chose to silent it. "Thank you," she said to Armani. He smiled a wide smile; one that touched his eyes. She noticed his eyes where the bluest she'd ever seen. He was really was quite handsome. She wondered if he was married and she quickly glanced at his left hand for a ring and didn't see one.

Her heart skipped a beat. Chastizing herself she put her phone in her purse and clasped her hands in her lap daring herself to look at Armani again.  He was still smiling at her.

"Where do you work?" he finally asked.

"In the financial district," replied Cassie. He shot up an eyebrow. "As ...?" he asked.

"I'm just an office clerk," she mumbled, "but I'd really like to be a lawyer one day". Cassie immediately shut her mouth. Oh my god, she thought, could I sound any more immature?

"How old are you?" asked Armani, as he straightened his cuff links. Cassie noticed there was a small diamond stud in each one. Why is he asking me that? She thought. That's rather personal... and direct.

"Why do you want to know?" She challenged.

He chuckled. "Because you look like you're all of 18 - a very pretty 18, but a very young looking 18".

"I'm 24," Cassie replied not sure to be happy that he thought she was younger or dismayed that he couldn't fathom she was a mature 24-year-old woman.

"Well, Miss 24, it just so happens that my personal assistant quit last week and I've got no one to attend to my personal affairs," said Armani. "How much do you make at your job?"

Personal assistant? Is that all he thinks she's capable of?!

"With all due respect," said Cassie, "I aspire to be the one telling people what to do one day, not the other way around." She stared hard at him. Who does he think he is? Personal assistant!? I am not going to fetch this man coffee, she scoffed to herself.

"That's very ambitious and this *is* a job where you will tell people what to do," said Armani. I have a very complicated job and a very complex lifestyle and it takes someone with maturity, poise, business acumen and a sharp eye for detail to run my life. Why not give it a shot?"

"How much?" asked Cassie.

"How much do you want?" asked Armani.

Cassie thought for a moment. Fine, she thought. Let me just throw something on the table.

"Ok," she huffed. "$225 thousand per year. 1 month of vacation. 15 days of paid sick leave and health benefits." Ha! She thought. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

"It's a deal," said Armani without so much as batting an eyelash. "You start today. Call your boss."

Cassie's heart stopped beating. What did he say?

"I... I... wasn't ..." she stammered.

"Call your boss. You're quitting. Effective immediately. If they have any issues," he pulled out a card, "Give them my name and number".

Cassie's fingers shook as she took the card. "Holy sh--, I mean, Jesus. Just like that?"

"Just like that," said Armani.

Cassie read the card. Armani was actually Finnegan O'Leary. CEO of Matrix Ventures Corporation, a massive and very global investment firm. 

"Question. Why are you on a GO train and not in a private helicopter?" asked Cassie, still not believing the man sitting across from her managed a billion dollar company. Somebody better pinch me soon, she thought.

Finnegan smiled. "Ah, well, I don't drive. The reason? I'd rather not get into it but my personal assistant drove me into work. I do have a place in the city but my country home is in Solina. I trust you've heard of it?"

Cassie nodded.

"I presume you have a driver's licence?" Finnegan asked.

Cassie nodded.

"You're cute when you nod," said Finnegan. "Now call your boss. We have a very busy morning ahead of us, but first, we need to visit my condo. You need a change of clothes."

"I beg your pardon," said Cassie. The hell? What's wrong with the way I'm dressed? She thought.

"Although I admit you look amazing in gray and white, people who work for me must look like they hold a position of power and must dress the part. This means wearing clothes that make a statement. No offence, but you look like an office clerk and that just won't do," said Finnegan.

"Just won't do!" hissed Cassie. She learned forward. "Okay, Finne-" "Mr. O'Leary," interjected Finnegan. "You aren't serious?" asked Cassie. "If you want to work for me, you will address me as Mr. O'Leary. That is not negotiable." Cassie swallowed. What the fuck was she agreeing to again?

"There is nothing wrong with the way I dress, Mr. O'Leary", Cassie practically spit the words. "What an offensive thing to say to a lady."

"Fine, Miss 24. Have it your way. We'll go to the office the way you are," said Finnegan, "But you will regret your decision, especially with that run in your hose and the lipstick stain on the cuff of your shirt sleeve."

Fuck. Cassie scowled as she assessed the run and the stain.

"Okay, I'll change," said Cassie. "Also, please don't call me Miss 24. I have a name."

"I like 'Miss 24'. It's very James Bond and I'm rather fond of those movies but I can't address you in public as that, even though I find it amusing, so what is your name? In time, you will have to give me those details in full, along with other personal information so you can pass a security check among other checks and get on payroll... "

"Cassie Winter."

"Short for Cassandra?" Finnegan asked.

"Yes, but I'm named after an aunt I can't stand. She's an awful and evil woman and I cringe when I hear the name," said Cassie.

The PA system blared and the engineer announced their arrival into Toronto.

"Well, Miss Winter, I would love to hear all about awful Aunt Cassandra over lunch. But first, we need to meet the company driver who will take us to my condo. We need to exit onto Bay Street. I trust you can point us in the right direction. My familiarity with Union Station isn't very good".

Of course it isn't, thought Cassie. God forbid you mingle with common minions. Finnegan stood up and Cassie noticed he was well over six feet tall. His dress pants did little to hide the muscular definition of his legs. Oh my god, he's so hot. She swooned inwardly. But he's a jerk. Albeit, a jerk who is going to be paying a lot of money for me to take notes, she thought.

Cassie led the way to Bay Street where a sleek, black limo waited. The driver nodded at Finnegan and opened the door. Cassie slid into a lot of leather and wood which was well coupled with a lingering scent of money. Finnegan slid in after her.

Cassie wondered if she should text Kevin and update him about this very absurd and impulsive turn of events but then decided against it. Let's see how this day plays out, she thought, and then I will fill him in.

Finnegan interrupted her thoughts. "You haven't called your boss, yet. I suggest you get moving on that and if you have a husband or boyfriend or significant other, I suggest you contact him or her and advise you'll be late returning home late tonight. I have an industry event to attend and I need a date. You're it."

Cassie steeled herself. Wow. Just wow. "And if I have plans?" she challenged.

"Miss Winter, if you're going to work for me, at the salary we've agreed upon, you have no other plans than my business. You will get four nights off every work week but Fridays will be reserved exclusively for me. This will allow us to attend functions without me worrying about squirreling you home to your lover." Finnegan said, while picking off lint Cassie could not see from his pant leg.

"No wonder your other assistant left. You can't own someone's life!" Cassie said, incredulous over what she was told. "This is a joke, right? My friend Cynthia set you up?"

Finnegan rolled his eyes. "Miss Winter, I assure you, I am very serious about this proposal. My last assistant was paid very handsomely for her duties but decided she wanted to get married and live out the rest of her life on some island in the Pacific. Who am I to stop someone from pursuing their dreams?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"I can sense, Miss Winter, that you hunger for more in life. You know there's more for you in this world then your dead-end office job, your simple clothes and your menial day to day tasks. You crave for bigger things and you have a sense of adventure that you don't hide very well because are you not sitting in a stranger's limo starting a new job you know very little about?" asked Finnegan.

Fuck. How do I answer that? thought Cassie. She pulled out her BlackBerry and called Denis, her boss. He wasn't going to be happy but office clerks are dispensable. He'll find someone else.

Shit. Voicemail.

"I've got voicemail," she told Finnegan.

"Leave a message," Finnegan answered. "Resign and give my information. I'll handle any fallout."

Cassie left the message and ended the call. She felt unsettled and unsure how Denis would handle it.

Cassie focused her attention on Finnegan. He really was hot. His thigh muscles bulged as he sat reading his BlackBerry. Finnegan had removed his suit jacket, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Cassie could see he had no chest hair. Her mind drifted and she began to imagine undoing more buttons on his shirt to see what else he had to offer. She figured he was about 33, maybe 35. He had no laugh lines but he seemed well out of his 20s considering his CEO position and the years it would have taken to get there.

She felt a small tingle in her loins. A feeling she hadn't felt for quite some time. My god, she thought, how long has it been since she felt this kind of attraction to a man? This feeling of longing? Wanting for a man to take her to bed? Kevin wasn't a mouse but half the time she only fucked him to get him off her case. Thinking about her less than exciting sex life made her unhappy. She realized that Kevin had also stopping caring and that left her feeling cold. She shivered.

"Would you like me to adjust the air conditioning?" Finnegan asked. Cassie nodded. 

Finnegan reached above him and tapped a panel. A cover slid back exposing a series of buttons. He fiddled with a few and closed the panel. "It will take a few minutes to adjust. Here, wear my jacket." Finnegan passed Cassie his suit jacket and she draped it in front of her.

Chapter Two debuts on Friday, July 20 - read it here