Fifty Shades of Orange

The Billionaire and the Bellboy

Preface 

This is a work of fiction, a really bad one, but a work of fiction nonetheless

All characters including those inspired by real people are fake. Everything in this story is fake.

A Message To Readers 

Stop.

What the fuck are you doing? Seriously.

Why are you reading this shit? I wrote this in four hours when I was really fucking drunk. This is really bad, and it’s meant to be really bad and it’s 1722 words long

Elijah Daniel

Elijah Daniel is an American comedian and author. He became popular online through his comedy on YouTube and social media. Daniel is the author of the erotic novel Trump Temptations.

 

Trump Temptations 

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Meeting

It all started one fateful afternoon in the summer of 2012. I was working as a bellboy at the Trump Hotel in Hong Kong on an internship program. It was marvelous. I come from a very small town in Michigan, and this was my first time in the big city. I loved everything about it. It was all I could have ever dreamed of and more. But little did I know, it was all about to change. I was stacking someone’s tacky luggage when the door behind me swept open. My loins trembled as the scent of toupee adhesive and spray tan swept through my nasal cavity. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and see the golden god behind these scents, but I couldn’t move, I was frozen. There was a tap on my shoulder, “young man” the voice said. I thought to myself “oh my God, could this be him?”

There was only one way to be sure. I gathered all my strength and turned around. Was I hallucinating? This couldn’t be real. It was him. It was the Donald! He stood there in front of me. Like a tall stallion. With his oily orange skin glistening in the sun like a soggy Cheeto, his hair unkempt and messy, like a gorgeous rat’s nest. He was beautiful. More beautiful than I could have ever dreamed. “Y-yes sir?” I said nervously. “I need you to bring these bags up to my room” he said sternly, like a grandfather upset that a news broadcast interrupted Jeopardy. His voice wrapped around my body like queso around a smothered burrito. I was unable to speak. What is this feeling I’m having? I forced myself to speak, but only the word “what” would come out. “I don’t have all fucking day you loser” he said next. “I’m so sorry sir” I whimpered as I grabbed his bags. “I’ll get these up to you immediately.”

He shook his head and trotted off to the elevator. As he got further and further, my eyes continued to be glued to his rear end. His gorgeous ass flapped behind him like a mouthwatering stack of pancakes in his pants. My hunger for pancakes had never been stronger. And that’s when it happened. He looked back. He caught me staring at his donk. He could have had me immediately fired for this, but he didn’t. Instead he smiled and continued to hop on the elevator. What is happening? Am I losing my mind? I didn’t come here to find love, but did love find me? No it couldn’t be. I ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. “This is insane, I must be crazy” I said to myself in the mirror as the cold water dripped down my face and uniform. I stood there for minutes, just looking at my reflection. I gathered myself, dried off and went to the front desk. “I need a break” I demanded from Helen, the hotel manager. “That’s fine, be back in 15 minutes” she growled at me. I hope 15 minutes is enough time to figure out what the fuck is going on. I was almost out the door when the phone rang. Helen stopped me “wait” she yells to me as she hung up the phone. Take those bags to Mr. Trump’s room before you go on break. He needs them now and he asked for you specifically to bring them. He did what? He asked for me specifically to bring them? Why me?

So many questions racing through my mind, like a cool teenager on Heelys in a mall. I gathered Mr. Trump’s luggage and headed for the elevator. His luggage said “Made in China” on it, how ironic. My heartbeat was faster than the elevator as it ticked upwards. I wonder why he asked for me. What could this be about? I wonder if he… likes me. How could he like me he just met me! “Ding” the elevator rang as I reached the penthouse. I walked down to his door, I’ve walked this hall many times, but never before has it seemed this long. It felt like an eternity. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and knocked on his door. He answered the door wearing only a robe, open just enough for me to see his saggy chest. A chest that would have given Betty White a run for her money. “Finally’ I’ve been waiting” he complained and he took his bags and slammed his door. My heart sank, I guess he just wanted his bags. As soon as I began to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart the door whipped open again. “I almost forgot” he said as he handed me a wad of money and a slip of paper “Don’t be late” he said with a smile as he closed the door once more. I stood there, paralyzed, holding what looked like hundreds of dollars and his note. What was this note? I pulled it from the money and held it up. The note said “Be back here at 8pm, and get yourself something nice to wear.” My knees trembled as I read it. This couldn’t be happening, but it was. I told Helen I wasn’t feeling well and left work early. I couldn’t be there any more, I needed to go home.

Chapter 2: Blood Sausage

 I walked through downtown thinking about everything. Should I go to meet him at 8pm? No, I can’t do that, what am I thinking? I’m thinking about him. I couldn’t fight it anymore. I had to admit it, I wanted his geriatric 2006 Perez Hilton Jell-O body, and I wanted it bad. But before long we had a new problem, my lustful thoughts had awoken the purple headed yogurt slinger in my pants. This walk was getting real… hard, real fast. I needed to get home. Luckily I lived right around the corner. I opened the door and quickly jogged up the stairs, making sure no one saw the raging blood sausage I was rocking. I sat down on the couch and before I could even take a breath my roommate Nikole opened the door and came out. “What’s up you fat bitch” she asked. “Not a whole lot” I lied. I had to, I couldn’t tell her.

“Why are you acting so fucking weird?” she asked. “I’m not,” I said “I met a boy.” “Is he cute?” she asked as she made me a sandwich. “Gorgeous. His face is wrinkled like a beautiful overflowing flesh toilet” I said, daydreaming. “What the fuck does that mean, that’s really weird. “Nobody fucking talks like that” she said, “He’s also rich” I followed. “Oh okay, go get that dick boo” she said. I gazed at the clock, 6pm already? I haven’t even gone shopping yet.

I rushed to the mall, I needed to get an outfit and get home in time to change. I quickly found the perfect black suit and was on my way home. I googled him on the train home, I wanted to know everything about him. His Wikipedia page says he is 69 years young, what a magic number. I’d like to find out more about that. It also says his nickname is “The Donald,” but I’m pretty sure they mean “Daddy.” I was so excited for our second meeting. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I got changed and looked at myself in the mirror. “You can’t do this.” I repeated to my reflection. I got myself pretty and headed out.

Chapter 3: The Meeting

The walk was short, but it seemed like an eternity. I was so nervous for our second meeting. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this happening. I reached the building and made my way up the elevator, my heart and my meat monster both throbbing more and more with each floor we passed. The elevator rang loud and opened her doors like a white girls legs on prom night. I forced myself to walk down the hall. My legs were heavy, fighting against me with every step. I looked at my phone, 7:58 pm. Just in time. I knocked gently on the penthouse door. The door cracked open and there he was, handsome as ever, like a giant melting carrot with fake hair. He was wearing a gorgeous suit. “You look good” he said as I entered the room. He locked the door behind me and asked if I wanted to take a seat. “Why did you ask me here?” I said as I sat down. “You know why I asked you here” he said as he brushed his hand against my cheek, leaving a stream of self-tanner dripping down my face. He sat beside me and put his hand on my thigh, caressing me up and down. The only thing I knew was I wanted to ride the elevator to the top of his Trump Tower. He moved closer, putting his cold dead lips on my neck. I shivered with excitement, his hands felt like an old dried out gingerbread house, I was in love. “I should tell you something” he breathed onto my neck. “Tell me later” I said as I reached for his pants. “Fine, but close your eyes” he said. I was reluctant, but obedient. I unzipped his pants and touched his cold scaly thighs. I opened my eyes as I grabbed his thick long tail…TAIL WHAT?

“DONALD TRUMP IS A FUCKING REPTIAIAN!” I screamed and let go of his tail. His neck flared up like that dinosaur on Jurassic Park, you know which one I mean, He hissed and leapt for the window leaving behind nothing but broken glass and a shattered heart.

Chapter 4

Bet You Didn’t Fucking Expect That.

Drunk Baptism

A man is stumbling through the woods, totally drunk, when he comes upon a preacher baptizing people in the river. He proceeds to walk into the water and subsequently bumps into the preacher. The preacher turns around and is almost overcome by the smell of alcohol, whereupon he asks the drunk, “Are you ready to find Jesus?”

The drunk answers, “Yes, I am.”

So the preacher grabs him and dunks him in the water. He pulls him up and asks the drunk, “Brother have you found Jesus?”

The drunk replies, “No, I haven’t found Jesus yet.”

The preacher shocked at the answer, dunks him into the water again for a little longer. He again pulls him out of the water and asks again, “Have you found Jesus my brother?”

The drunk again answers, “No, I haven’t found Jesus yet.”

By this time the preacher is at his wits end and dunks the drunk in the water again — but this time holds him down for about 30 seconds and when he begins kicking his arms and legs he pulls him up. The preacher again asks the drunk, “For the love of God have you found Jesus?”

The drunk wipes his eyes then catches his breath and says to the preacher, “Are you sure this is where he fell in?”

My Changing America

I was born White, which now, whether I like it or not, makes me a RACIST.
I am a fiscal and moral conservative, which by today’s standards, makes me a fascist.
I am heterosexual, which according to gay folks, now makes me a homophobic.
I am a Christian, which now labels me as an infidel.
I believe in the 2nd Amendment, which now makes me a member of the ‘vast gun lobby’.
I think and I reason, therefore I doubt much that the main stream media tells me, which must make me a reactionary.
I am proud of my heritage and our inclusive American culture, which makes me a xenophobe.
I value my safety and that of my family and I appreciate the police and the legal system, which makes me a ‘right-wing extremist’.
I believe in hard work, fair play, and fair compensation according to each individual’s merits, which today makes me an anti-Socialist.
I believe in the defense and protection of the homeland for and by all citizens, which now makes me a militant.
Recently, a sick old woman called me and my friends “a basket of deplorable s”.
I need to thank all my friends for sticking with me through these abrupt, new found challenges in my life and my thinking!
I just can’t imagine or understand what’s happened to me so quickly! Funny . . . it’s all just taken place over the previous 8 years!
And if all this crap wasn’t enough to deal with, I’m now afraid to go into either restroom!