Fifty Shades of Jezebel and the Beanstalk (The Fifty Shades Of Alice Trilogy Book 4)

by Melinda DuChamp

  FIFTY SHADES OF JEZEBEL

  AND THE BEANSTALK

  An Erotic Fairy Tale for Adults

  by

  Melinda DuChamp

  It's not easy being a princess in a fairytale. Especially when everyone you meet is so incredibly horny.

  When unhappy Jezebel is rescued from a terrible blind date by a cute waiter with magic beans, she thinks she must be dreaming. But once she's in a land filled with mythical beings, hot and eager suitors, and more orgasms than she's able to handle, Jezzy learns the true meaning of "happy ending."

  Written by the author of the bestseller 50 Shades of Alice in Wonderland, Jezebel Up The Beanstalk features the same hysterical humor, heated sexual encounters, and romantic escapades readers have come to demand from Melinda DuChamp.

  It's erotica for smart people who like to laugh, just like you.

  A Dreadful Date

  I'd rather stick a fork in my eye than continue with this terrible date.

  Jezebel once again nodded politely at the young man sitting across from her. That was really all she'd been doing the entire hour.

  His name was Chet, and a friend from her job at Burger Barn had set them up. He was supposedly a good catch because he was: 1) single, 2) not ugly, and 3) manager of a book store. But practically everyone Jezebel knew read ebooks. Bookstores were closing faster than birthday cake disappeared at a fat kid's birthday party. Jezzy couldn't see how Chet's career was solid at all.

  "So I told the woman she shouldn't read that popular garbage," Chet rambled on, "and pointed her to some of my favorite Dostoyevsky translations. I so much prefer Magarshack's interpretation to Garnett's…"

  Jezzy sighed, smiling politely and wishing she were at home reading an unending, impenetrable Russian novel instead of being stuck there. Chet barely stopped talking long enough to swallow his food. He was completely self-absorbed, and men like that were terrible in bed.

  "And if she read Uncle Vanya, she could Chekov that from her list. Get it? Check off? Aren't puns funny?"

  Puns weren't funny. Her needs would never be met by a young man who was deathly amused by his own lame attempts at humor, and she'd had more than her share of selfish lovers.

  Jezzy wanted someone who would sweep her off her feet and be everything she'd dreamed a true love should be. Prince Charming. Mr. Right. Or better yet, Christian Grey from that kinky bestselling novel she'd read on her Kindle. A panty-drenching story, even though it was overpriced. There was plenty of good erotica under three bucks.

  Unfortunately, Chet was no Christian Grey. Jezzy bet he couldn't get her off while armed with a boxful of battery operated devices and an annotated copy of the Kinsey Report.

  As she watched him talk, she tried not to look at the rather large bit of broccoli stuck between his two front teeth, and had to turn away to avoid smelling his drugstore cologne, which reeked like bug spray. She gazed at the garden just beyond the patio, and tried to focus on the scent of the wild roses that grew there.

  At least they were sitting outside, thank goodness. She tried to listen to the conversations of others on more interesting dates. Jezzy looked over at a young couple sitting very close to one another. The attractive man's hand was sitting high on the woman's bare thigh, her already short dress hiked way up. The woman closed her eyes, her lips slightly open, as his hand slipped between her legs.

  Jezebel squeezed her thighs together and shivered, wishing she could change places with the lucky girl. A warm breeze lifted her freshly washed and straightened hair from her bare shoulders and kissed her skin. She'd worn her prettiest red peasant blouse with a long, summery, tiered skirt, for easy access. She so longed to be touched, to be kissed. That most definitely was not going to happen now. Jezzy had enough broccoli with her own dinner. She wasn't about to share Chet's. And though he knew his Tolstoy, Jezzy doubted he could find her clitoris, even with Google Maps and a magnifying glass.

  She looked at the table on the other side of them, at another attractive couple kissing and groping passionately, completely oblivious to the waiter who delivered their food. The woman had opened the man's fly, and was stroking him beneath the table. The man had a hand inside the woman's bra and was caressing her breast while licking her ear.

  It was so bold, doing that in public. Such a turn on.

  Why doesn't anyone touch me that way? Why were all of my lovers so selfish?

  She glanced back at the first couple. The woman's eyes were closed as the man pleasured her under the table. Her fists were clenched, and Jezzy noticed the engagement ring on her hand.

  She checked the other public display of affection. Both wore wedding bands.

  Was that the key to satisfaction? Commitment?

  Of course, before commitment, there had to be love.

  But love seemed even more elusive than an orgasm from a hand other than her own.

  Maybe I should start small. With mutual affection.

  Jezzy decided that she would not have sex with a single other person unless she was absolutely certain that they liked her, and that she liked them. No more sex until there was at least a spark of something. No more bad dates which ended in her being treated like a receptacle, rather than a human being with feelings and needs.

  And above all, no more talk about fucking Russian literature.

  A waiter appeared at their table, looking first at Chet, then at Jezebel, giving her a pitying look. This wasn't the same waiter that had served them earlier. But she had seen him before, at this restaurant, many times, and he was painfully cute. Brooding blue eyes and curly hair. Broad shoulders and narrow waist. Big feet.

  And you know what they say about big feet.

  "Is everything okay?" he asked. His name tag read Jack.

  She gave him a look that said, how can things be okay when I'm stuck with this insufferable idiot?

  "Have you ever been tied up and licked until you couldn't stop screaming?" Jack asked.

  Jezzy blinked, unsure if she just heard what she thought she heard. Chet continued to drone on, oblivious to the question.

  "Pardon me?" she asked the waiter. She studied him closer, realized he was even more attractive up close.

  He was also quite aroused, his erection straining the front of his pants.

  Am I imagining this? Have I started to fantasize because this date is boring me out of my mind? Or is some perverted server with a hard-on really talking dirty to me?

  "I suggest the beans, Miss," he said.

  Chet still hadn't noticed the waiter, or if he did, he didn't care.

  "Beans?" she asked in a wistful way, almost entirely sure this was a daydream.

  "I really think you'll like these beans. They're magical."

  "No, thank you," Jezebel said. "I'm really not hungry."

  "Of course, he didn't want to be a novelist when he was younger," Chet continued. "He just needed a little Pushkin. Get it? Alexander Pushkin? Aren't puns funny?"

  The waiter gave her a serious look, penetrating her eyes with his blue gaze. "Forgive me, Miss, but I really believe you should try them. You will not be disappointed. In fact, I'll bet you will be completely satisfied."

  Jezebel was struck by the intensity of his gaze, by his insistence, and by the bulge only inches away.

  Maybe it's not a daydream. Maybe it's a real dream. I'm home, asleep in bed, and the blind dates I dream about are as boring as my blind dates in real life.

  But this dream had taken an interesting turn.

  Jezzy decided to go with it, see where
it led.

  "Okay, I'll try the beans."

  Chet continued to talk. "Blah blah blah Nabokov, blah blah Solzhenitsyn, blah-dee-blah blah, but then that pun is rather Brodsky. Aren't puns funny?"

  Jezebel sighed. "So where are the beans?"

  "I have them right here." Jack stared down at his groin. "Reach in and take them."

  Jezzy stared at the lump in his pants and chewed her lower lip. She'd just met this waiter, and moments ago she'd promised herself never to get involved with anyone if there wasn't mutual affection.

  "By the way," the waiter said. "You're very beautiful, and I like you very much."

  "Good enough for me," Jezzy said, and with one deft movement she unzipped his fly. His penis sprang free, and it was lovely; thick and long with…

  Three beans balanced on the head.

  "You have beans on your dick," Jezzy said.

  "Magic beans. That's what I've been trying to tell you."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. I'm supposed to suck them off your erection?"

  "No. You just take them and throw them onto the ground in the garden over there."

  "Oh." Jezzy said. She was somewhat disappointed.

  "Don't you know the fairy tale?" the waiter asked, his penis bobbing.

  "You mean with the Beanstalk?"

  "That's the one."

  Jezzy frowned. "I preferred Alice in Wonderland. Did you know there's an erotic version of it called Fifty Shades of Alice? I really liked it."

  "Perhaps you'll enjoy this one as well."

  "I'm not sure I want to climb a beanstalk and have sex with a giant. Anything bigger than eight inches tends to hurt." She stared at Jack's penis again. "Yours, however, looks like a perfect fit."

  Jack placed a soft hand on her shoulder and smiled. He really was adorable.

  "A whole world of adventure awaits you. But if you'd prefer to stay here with Chet, I believe he's about to launch into a lengthy dissertation on the alleged plagiarism of Mikhail Sholokhov's And Quiet Flows the Don."

  "I'll take the beans," Jezzy said, snatching them immediately.

  The moment they touched her skin, the beans began to glow and vibrate, causing a tingling in her palm. The tingle worked its way all the way up her arm, and down her chest and belly, into her loins.

  "Ooooh," Jezebel breathed. "They feel nice."

  Becoming light-headed, she reached out for something to steady herself, grasping the waiter's sizeable erection. Touching it, she went from tingly to full-blown horny as hell.

  But Jack gently held her wrist and removed her hand from his throbbing manhood.

  "Hey!" Jezzy complained. "I can't even get laid in my own dream?"

  "You said it yourself, Jezebel. There must be mutual affection before you sleep with anyone again."

  "How do you know my name?"

  "I have watched you come into this restaurant many times on many bad dates. Listened to many lame guys' feeble attempts to woo you. Watched as your patience turned to disappointment. I apologize for eavesdropping, for my clandestine voyeurism, but I can't help it. I've grown very fond of you."

  "That counts as affection." Jezzy reached for his boner.

  Jack danced out of reach. "But you have no affection for me."

  "I'm sure I could. I'm sure I could like you very much."

  "Perhaps. But first you must learn to like yourself."

  "That's not true. I like myself."

  "Then why are you still sitting here with Chet?"

  Jezebel glanced at Chet, who continued his non-stop talking, something about Fyodor Dmitrievich Kryukov and Venyamin Alekseevich Krasnushkin.

  She frowned. "So this is going to be one of those fairytales where I travel to some strange land and go on an epic adventure only to realize that what I really wanted was within me all along?"

  "Yes. And also, you're going to have a lot of orgasms."

  "Done. So where do I plant the beans?"

  "The garden is right behind you. Simply toss them onto the soil."

  Jezebel got up and left the table—Chet not even noticing—and threw the beans onto a patch of dirt between some calla lilies. Within seconds a whooooshing sound engulfed her and three thick stalks sprang from the earth, swirling around each other and shooting far, far up into the sky.

  "It looks like bad CGI," Jezzy said.

  "What did you expect for a $2.99 ebook? Now climb the stalk, get to the top. Just one warning. Do not stray off the path. You may be tempted to go into the woods, but do not, for the wicked witch Lucinda lives there. Follow the path."

  "Why do these fairy tales always have stupid rules? We all know I'm going to stray off the path."

  "Do you want to get to the dirty parts or not, babe?"

  With that, Jezebel turned and began to climb the beanstalk.

  "Beautiful," Jack called up to her.

  Jezzy stared down to see that the waiter was standing directly beneath her, looking up her skirt. She'd forgotten that she'd gone without panties—a lame hope that if her blind date turned out well it would have facilitated getting to third base. Jezebel grinned lewdly and opened her legs a bit, giving him a better view.

  "Actually, maybe you should come back down here," Jack said. "I'm rethinking my advice."

  "Too late," she called down. "I'm committed to an adventure. You had your chance and now… ooooh, my goodness."

  A velvety leaf from the stalk slipped between her thighs and caressed her most private place. Jezebel paused, allowing the leaf to fondle and caress. It stroked her slowly, sensually, like a lover's tongue.

  She closed her eyes, picturing Jack's cock, so thick and hard, her hand wrapped around it.

  Maybe I should climb back down.

  Jezzy tried to descend, but the leaf increased its tempo, lapping and sending a wave of dizzy pleasure through her. She was forced to cling to the stalk so she didn't fall.

  Then there was a rushing, vertigo sensation, and Jezebel realized the beanstalk was lifting her skyward like an elevator. The combination of hurtling upward and being stroked by a soft leaf was a strange, wonderful thrill, and Jezzy's hips began to grind involuntarily.

  She couldn't remember the last time she'd had an orgasm with a lover. And while masturbation always brought her release, it often took a bit of time. But at that moment Jezzy was extremely aroused, very close to coming, and she was chewing on her lower lip about to scream when the beanstalk, and the stroking, abruptly stopped.

  It was, unfortunately, a feeling she was very used to. By the time she was just getting into it, her partner was usually finished. She half-expected the beanstalk to turn on the TV and then start snoring.

  Jezebel caught her breath, buried her disappointment, and looked around. She found herself standing in a very strange place indeed. A long strip of land that hung in the air like a floating island, green and lush with a cobblestone road which led to a huge storybook castle in the distance, surrounded by fluffy clouds and blue sky. On either side of the path there were lovely, gigantic flowers, which reached out for Jezebel as she walked toward the castle. An enormous violet reached over the path toward her, large leaves reaching, stretching and shivering to touch her. Other giant flowers joined in, bending toward her, and a low hum of whispers began lilting in the breeze.

  "Cooooome Jezebel. Come to ussss. We will make you feeeeel soooooo gooood."

  Jezebel loved getting flowers, even though it didn't happen often. They made her feel special and romantic. The last time she'd gotten roses, she had sniffed one and ran the bud along her lips, her neck, down her breasts, loving the sensation and wanting to go further but feeling silly.

  Right then she didn't feel silly at all. She wanted to stretch out and let the flowers have their way with her. Jezzy was just about to lift up her dress and nestle in a particularly sexy-looking bed of orchids when a harsh male voice said,

  "What do you think you are doing, young lady?"

  Jezebel Makes a Friend

  Startled, Jezzy spun a
round, taking a quick, sharp, breath. Before her stood a lithe, slender man who shimmered in the sunlight. Blond waves curled just above a set of the clearest green eyes Jezzy had ever seen. Pointed ears poked through his curls, and a devilish smile curved his lips. A wooden bow and a sack of arrows were slung on his shoulder.

  Wow, was he hot.

  "I repeat, what are you doing?"

  "I was… um…" Jezzy felt too ashamed to go further.

  "You were going to lie in my flower bed and let them ravage you," the man answered for her.

  She nodded, blushing and staring at the ground.

  "They are quite good at it," he said. "I've taught them many ways to pleasure a woman. Can you imagine being caressed and stroked everywhere at once by thousands of succulent, velvety petals, forcing you to climax over and over?"

  "I can now," Jezzy said, feeling herself get wetter.

  "Perhaps I should allow it. You are quite pretty, and the moans of a beautiful woman are the sweetest music."

  He walked up to her, his lips suddenly at her ear and his strong hands cupping her buttocks, pressing her against him.

  "The problem is, dear Jezebel, those flowers are insatiable. They do not know when to stop. They'll keep you there, forcing you to come and come and come, until you die of ecstasy."

  "Doesn't seem like a bad way to go," Jezebel managed to croak. She ground against the handsome stranger, and found he was as aroused as she.

  "I would enjoy watching it. Watching you wiggle and scream. I would stroke myself as I watched."

  He cupped her ass, and ran his tongue over her ear. Jezzy squealed, once again on the verge of orgasm.

  Then he abruptly released her.

  "But, alas, you were summoned here for someone other than me. And we must be off." As Jezzy watched, a set of huge, black feathers unfolded behind him.

  "Oh, my," Jezebel said. "What are you?"

  "I'm a puck."

  "Puck? As in hockey?"

  "As in nature sprite. We used to be known as fairies, but that term took on a different connotation and we haven't reclaimed it despite some solid efforts to try. My name is Robin Goodfellow."