Happy Monday, Persephoneers! Let’s start the long, arduous work week out with some laughs, shouldn’t we? Without further ado, here are my thoughts and snotty comments Chapter Three of E. L. James’s Fifty Shades of Grey.
My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me. After all, he did say he was glad Kate didn’t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment.
Never mind that you might look a little crazy doing that. Or maybe because you just happen to be less annoying than Kate is.
Whenever he’s home he asks me on a date, and I always say no. It’s a ritual. I’ve always never considered it a good idea to date the boss’s brother and besides, Paul is cute in a wholesome all-American boy-next-door kind of way, but he’s no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination.
Sounds more like sexual harassment to me. You don’t have a shot with her, Paul, so move it on already.
“But I do places, Ana, not people,” Jose groans.
Yeah, he tried to ask Time Square out once, but she never responded. And he wonders why he can’t get a date.
I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of smoky gray eyes, coveralls, long legs, long fingers, and dark, dark unexplored places.
I surreptitiously gaze at him from beneath my lashes as he stands in line waiting to be served. I could watch him all day”¦he’s tall, broad-shouldered, and slim, and the ways those pants hang on his hips”¦Oh my. Once or twice he runs his long, graceful fingers through his now dry but still disorderly hair. Hmm”¦I’d like to do that. The thought comes unbidden into my mind, and my face flames. I bite my lip ad stare down at my hands again, not liking where my wayward thoughts are going.
“But it’s England that I’d really like to visit”¦It’s the home of Shakespeare, Austen, the Bronte sisters, Thomas Hardy. I’d like to see the places that inspired these people to write such wonderful books.”
CLEARLY NOT THIS BOOK!
“Ana, there’s something about him.” Her tone is full of warning. “He’s gorgeous, I agree, but I think he’s dangerous. Especially to someone like you.”
“What do you mean, someone like me?” I demand, affronted.
“An innocent like you, Ana. You know what I mean,” she says, a little irritated.
Dear Kate: The more you keep telling Ana that Christian is dangerous, the more tempting you’re going to make him out to be. If you don’t want her to see him, encourage her to date him! Remember, like at the beginning of the book, how you kept pushing her to pursue him?
Moving to the tripod, Jose takes several more, while Grey sits and poses, patiently and naturally, for about twenty minutes. My wish has come true. I can stand and admire Christian Grey from not-so-afar. Twice our eyes lock, and I have to tear myself away from his cloudy gaze.
And then when he cries, it won’t be tears. It’ll be rain.
It all happens so fast – one minute I’m falling, the next I’m in his arms and he’s holding me tightly against his chest. I inhale his clean, vital scent. He smells of fresh laundered linen and some expensive body wash. Oh my, it’s intoxicating. I inhale deeply.
The scent is Eau de Grand Douchebag.
And that’s a wrap, Persephoneers! See you later this week for Chapter 4, when things really start to happen!