Hey guys! Yeah, I get it 'why the hell are you writing this and not finishing iRaise Twins?' well, because I feel like it. Meanwhile in the iRT world, things are chaotic and stressful and I'm hoping to ease a bit of that with some parody writing.

Read 50 Shades of Grey? I do NOT suggest it. The only good part of the entire book was the last three pages. Yeah, I said it. Please, hate on me.

So, as with that said (if you can't tell by the title and the previous description) I'm writing a parody of 50 Shades of Grey. iCarly version. Get ready for some really crappy writing, because I'm putting very little effort into this (it may even turn out better than the book). It probably won't be funny because I suck.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or 50 Shades of Grey. No point in suing me. I have nothing except a dream and a laptop. And some other stuff. But it's really not worth suing me over.

X

I woke up in my super awesome bedroom and smiled. Yeah. My life was perfect. I hopped out of bed and plopped my butt down in the chair in front of my super awesome camera mirror. Damn my hair. It's ruining my perfect bedrooms image

I whipped my hair into a ponytail and bounced downstairs.

"Yo. Shay. I have an interview today. I don't want to do it. You're going to interview Fredward Benson for me." Sam Puckett, my roomate for the last four years, murmered.

"Awww, Sam! I have final exams to study for!"

"Too bad, cupcake. I'm not feeling up to this chizz today."

Fine, I'll do it," I murmer, stomping into the kitchen. Damn Sam Puckett. Always ruining my perfect life.

"I have an outfit you can borrow so you don't look soo..."

"What? Look so what?"

"Girly. Weak."

"Hey! My look is not girly or weak!"

"Too bad! You're wearing my clothes!" Sam murmered

"Fine," I uttered, looking through the fridge for something to eat. "Sam, did you eat us out of food AGAIN?"

"When mama's hungry mama's hungry. Now go get ready! It's a long drive!"

The drive to Benson Computer's headquarters was a short one, but I don't mention this to Sam.

I skip back up the stairs and sit back in front of my mirror. My brother, Spencer, built my room up after he burned it down with some gummy bear lamp. Spencer doesn't live with us anymore. He got arrested for flashing his socks at young girls in the mall. Sam moved in to help me with the bills while Spencer sits out his seventeen and a half year sentence.

I should be sitting at my desk, staring at the notes I've taken this semester and trying to remember whatever it was the teacher was saying, but instead I'm stuck doing Sam's stupid assignment.

Apparently Fredward Benson is super important just because he donated all the computers our college uses. Top of the line Benson computers were a dream of the dean. Oh, and he'll be speaking at our graduation ceremony. His time is apparently much more valuable than mine, but he was nice enough to take time out of his busy day to allow Sam to interview him. Instead, he'd be getting plain, boring Carly Shay.

I hop back downstairs and into Sam's room. On her bed is laying a tight, low cut white shirt, black blazer jacket and black pencil skirt. I roll my eyes. This is her version of professional. I dress quickly and storm out into the livingroom.

"Sam, are you serious?"

"You gotta let the girls breathe."

I roll my eyes again.

"Where are your questions?"

"On the table."

"And the recorder?"

"It's on the table now hurry up."

I run back into the kitchen, grabbing the piece of paper and recorder and pause by the door.

"Wait, Sam. I don't know anything about this guy," I murmur.

"Me either, kid. Don't worry, just stick to the questions. You'll be fine."

"Only for you, Sam, would I do this."

"Yeah, now hurry up!"

I leave the apartment and make my way into the parking garage, muttering the whole way. Damn her for being so lazy. Damn her for making me do this. Damn her, damn her, damn her.

She'd make a great journalist if she'd put in some time.

The roads are clear and it takes me only ten minutes to get to the headquarters for Benson computers. It's tall, probably twenty stories, and looks like an office building. Benson is written all over the building. Arrogant prick. It's only quarter to two when I walk into the intimidating glass, steel and white sandstone lobby where an attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles at me. She's wearing the best suit jacket and brightest white shirt I've ever seen. I already hate her.

"I'm here to see Mr. Benson. My name is Carly Shay filling in for Sam Puckett."

"Excuse me a moment, Ms. Shay." She eyes me up before picking up her phone and quietly speaking into it. I smooth out my hair once more, pretending she doesn't bother me. Still hate you.

"Ms. Puckett is expected. You'll have to sign in, Ms. Shay," she grumbles, not trying to hide her distaste of me. "You'll want the last elevator on the left, press for the 20th floor." I sign in and she hands me a visitors pass. I put on my best fake smile and thank her dramatically. I pass two security guards who stop and check me out before I press the button for the elevator.

The elevator shoots me up to the 20th floor with excessive speed and the doors slide open to another large glass, steel and white sandstone lobby. I'm confronted by another young blonde woman, dressed similarly to the one downstairs.

"Ms. Shay, could you wait here please?" she motions to a seated area of white leather chairs. I figured I'd be waiting, and what better way to wait than sitting on my ass. Behind the chairs is a glass walled meeting room with a ridiculously large table and several matching chairs around it. A floor to ceiling window a view of Seattle just beyond the meeting room shows a view of Seattle that I am not phased by. I see this view every day.

I sit down and tap my foot nervously. Surely it shouldn't take long to fetch Fredward Benson. I'm sure he just sits in his mighty castle and tells everybody what to do all day long. After all, what else could he do? He's already a successful businessman. I frown. Beyond the facts presented to us at the college after the computers were donated I know nothing about him. He could be a ninety year old man for all I know. My nerves skyrocket and I find that my palms are sweating.

Damn you Sam Puckett.

I suck at one on one interviews. I prefer to cower in the back and only take part in group discussions. I'd much rather be reading a classic British novel then sitting in a massive glass and stone building twitching like a drug addict.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Shay. I take another look around. The building is too modern for a 90 year old man. He's probably in his forties: fit, tanned and fair-haired to go with his posse of stupid blondes.

Another blonde comes out a large door to the right. I take a deep breath and stand up.

"Ms. Shay?" she asks.

"Yeah," I murmur.

"Mr. Benson will see you in just a moment. Have you been offered anything to drink?"

"No." she turns and shoots an evil look to the first blonde hiding behind the desk.

"Would you like tea, coffee, water, rum?" she asks, turning her attention back to me.

"Water, thanks."

"Olivia." oh, so that's the first blonde's name. I'd say it fits her, but I'd rather look at her like she's some kind of toy rather than a human being. "Fetch Ms. Shay some water." The second blonde demands. Olivia jumps up and runs out the door on the other side. I picture tears streaming down her face.

"My apologies, Ms. Shay. Olivia is new. Please, take a seat. Mr. Benson will be with you shortly."

I sit down again even though I just got up, expecting to be walking into Fredward Benson's office, and Olivia comes back with a glass of iced water.

The second blonde, whose name I didn't catch, marches back over to the desk and plops down into her chair, shooting looks at Olivia every three seconds.

Seems as though Mr. Benson has some sort of obsession with blondes.

Finally, after an eternity, I am granted access to Mr. Benson's office. I open the door and instantly trip over nothing, landing on my hands and knees right in front of him. Some first impression. He helps me stand and I'm so embarrassed I have to steel myself to look up. He's so young. And hot. And his eyes are on my boobs.

"Ms. Puckett," he murmers, extending a hand to me, looking up at my face. "I'm Fredward Benson. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

He's so hot! Tall, dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and black tie. His hair is dark brown, his eyes a matching shade and it takes me a moment to remember I speak English.

"Actually," I murmer. "Ms. Puckett is…um...unavailable at this time, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind."

"And you are?"

"Oh, Carly Shay. I'm studying English Literature with Sam, I mean Samantha. Ms. Puckett. Ms. Samantha Puckett at Washington State."

"I see," he says. I think he's smiling, but I can't tell because he's so damn uptight. "Would you like to sit?"

His office is way too big for just one man, though being as rich as he is I don't think he cares. I sit quickly, avoiding tripping on anything else in the office. I look around. There are several small paintings arranged in a square. They're so well done they look like photographs and put together they are breathtaking. It takes me a moment to recognize them.

"A local artist. Spencer…something."

"Shay. My brother." He raises an eyebrow at me and I'm caught, once again, in his gaze.

"Interesting."

I get to work setting up the recorder and glancing down every few seconds at the ill-prepared list of questions I've been given. It's taking so long and I can feel his eyes on me. I barely muster enough courage to look up at him.

"Sorry," I murmur. "I'm not used to this."

"Take all the time you need, Ms. Shay."

"Do you mind if I record your answers?"

"You ask me now after you've put in the work to set it up?"

I stare at him, aware that my question was really stupid and I should have just kept my mouth shut. A smile plays at his lips and finally, after what seems an eternity, he chuckles. "No, I don't mind."

"Did Sam, I mean, Ms. Puckett, explain what the interview was for?"

"Yes, it's an assignment for her newswriting class. I seem to be important to the school after the donation of the computers. They've asked me to give out the degrees at the graduation ceremony this year."

I'm stunned by the news and for a moment I allow my thoughts to travel. Someone young, perhaps six years or so older than me, and very attractive will be giving me my degree at my graduation ceremony. I bite my lip, thinking of all the things I could do to him after graduation. I take a deep breath.

"Good. I have some questions for you, Mr. Benson."

"I figured as much," he smiles

I flush and sit up, trying to look more intimidating. His smile fades and I press the start button on the recorder.

"You're very young to have such a successful business. To what do you owe your success?"

"I'm smart. I like computers. It was a natural fit."

"That's it?"

"Yup. I spent most of my life learning about computers, taking them apart and putting them back together, testing out software to see what worked and what didn't and in the end I created an unstoppable computer that compares to no other."

He's so arrogant.

"Maybe you're just lucky."

"I don't think so, Ms. Shay. The harder I work the more "luck" I have. I run everything on a tight schedule. Nothing goes without preparation."

"You sound like a control freak."

"Oh, I exercise control in all things, Ms. Shay. "

Now he's super hot.

"Immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things."

"Do you feel like you have immense power?" what a freak! He's totally controlling!

"Yes."

"Don't you have a board to answer to?"

"Look around, Ms. Shay. This is MY company. I have nobody to answer to. Do you have any questions that pertain to this assignment or are we done here?"

I clear my throat, chancing another look at him, and look back down at Sam's questions.

"Do you have any interests outside of work?"

"I have varied interests, Ms. Shay." His eyes dig deep into my soul, his voice is so smooth and sexy. "Very varied."

"But if you work so hard how do you chill out?"

"What?"

"You know, relax."

"Oh, I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits. I'm a rich man, Ms. Shay, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."

"You invest in manufacturing. Why?"

"Because I like to build things, I like to know how they work and I like to construct and deconstruct. I thought we'd been over this."

"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?"

"I'm a private person, Ms. Shay, and I go out of my way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews."

"Then why did you agree to let Sam interview you?"

"Because I'm a benefactor of the University and I couldn't get her to leave me alone."

Sam is persistent. When she wants something, she gets it no matter how long she has to fight for it.

"Do you have a philosophy?"

"Hell no. More like a guiding principle. 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.'"

"So you want to possess things?" He is a COMPLETE control freak!

"I want to deserve to possess things."

"You sound like the ultimate consumer"

"I am." Cocky bastard.

"Do you think being a test tube baby had something to do with your intelligence?"

"I have no way of knowing."

"You've had to sacrifice a family life for this business."

"That's not a question."

"Sorry, I meant HAVE you had to sacrifice a family life?"

"I have a mother. That's all I need."

"Are you gay, Mr. Benson?"

"Excuse me?"

"Damn it."

"No, Carly, I'm not."

"Are you sure? Nobody ever sees you with a woman?"

"Does a businessman need to have a woman by his side?"

"Most prefer it."

"I'm not most."

There's a knock on the door and the first blonde pokes her head in.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Benson, but you have a meeting in two minutes."

"I'm not finished here, Olivia. Please cancel it." She hesitates in the doorway and then leaves again. "Tell me about yourself Ms. Shay."

"There's nothing to know about me."

"What are you doing after graduation?"

"I haven't decided. I'm just trying to get through my final exams."

Which I should be studying for instead of sitting here in the enormous office of Mr. Fredward Benson.

"We have an excellent internship program here," he murmurs.

"I'll remember that. Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here."

"Why?"

"It's pretty obvious I'm not blonde."

He smirks. "Would you like me to show you around?"

"No. I think I'll be leaving now."

"So soon?"

"Yes, Sam will be anxious to know how it went."

"You'd better drive carefully. It's slick out there. Do you have everything?"

"Yes sir," I murmur, grabbing the recorder and the questions. "Thank you for the interview."

"The pleasure has been all mine," he murmurs, holding out his hand. I take it again. "Until we meet again, Ms. Shay."

"Mr. Benson." I nod. He moves to the door, opening it wide and smiling again.

"Just making sure you make it through the door this time, Ms. Shay."

"Well thank you."

"Do you have a coat?"

"No."

He presses the button for the elevator and we stand waiting. It couldn't be more awkward. The doors open and I rush inside.

I need to get the hell out of here.

He's so hot and his chocolate brown eyes are staring into mine, causing me to practically orgasm on the spot.

"Carly," he says as a farewell.

"Fredward," I reply just as the doors close.

X