Linotte Reads “Fifty Shades of Grey”: Chapter Seventeen

Happy Thursday, all! As promised, we’re continuing on with a recap of Chapter Seventeen of “Fifty Shades of Grey.” Now I know many of us consider this novel to be 50 shades of awful, 50 shades of pathetic, and fifty shades of absurdly funny. Conversely, there are just as many people who think that this novel is the greatest thing since sliced bread and claim that it’s the hottest thing they ever read. I don’t know what that says about us or about them, but anyhow, on with the show!

I open my eyes, and I’m draped in Christian Grey. He’s wrapped around me like a victory flag.

What’s the victory? Sleeping with a guy who’s controlling and treats you like shit? Wow, I want to follow your example, Ana!

‘Sunday,’ he says, and the word is pregnant with an unspoken promise. Everything deep in my body uncurls and then clenches in delicious anticipation. The feeling is exquisite.

I was happy that you were happy. I felt relieved that it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt – sated. But I feel very uncomfortable, guilty even, feeling that way. It doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m confused as a result. Does that answer your question?

“It was like the pleasure I felt when I was having my wisdom teeth pulled out. What was that? That was drugs? So does this mean that I’m on drugs? Hmmm… Oh my!” My inner goddess is rapt with body-consuming ecstasy.

So you felt demeaned, debased, abused & assaulted – how very Tess Durbeyfield of you. I believe it was you who decided on the debasement, if I remember correctly. Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try and embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That’s what a submissive would do.

This is so wrong. First, it minimizes Tess’s suffering and makes Alec Durbeyfield look like Mr. Sexy Sexual Harasser Hero, and this implies that Tess “liked” what Alec did to her, which is very far from the truth if James had looked at the text. It’s on Project Gutenberg, so there’s no excuse for her not to have looked it up. So, in a very roundabout way, James may have just made a rape joke.

The Audi is a joy to drive. It has power steering. Wanda, my Beetle, has no power in it at all – anyway, so my daily workout, which was driving my Beetle, will cease. Oh, but I will have a personal trainer to contend with, according to Christian’s rules. I frown. I hate exercising.

Really? Gee, Ana, maybe if you’d embraced going to the student rec center now and then during college and finding something you liked instead of holing yourself up in your room with books every night, you may have met some pretty normal guys and dated around to see what you liked. But no, you like the ones who have rules for you and who make you do things on their terms, not on your own, amirite?

Well, patronizing son-of-a-bitch works well, then. Yes. I’m an adult, thank you for reminding me, Christian Grey, and it is my choice. The problem is, I just want Christian, not all his”¦ baggage – and right now he has a 747 hold’s worth of baggage. Could I just lie back and embrace it? Like a submissive? I’ve said I’d try. It’s an awfully big ask.

 

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Consumerism Gone Mad
Date: May 27 2011 13:22
To: Christian Grey
I think you need to call Dr. Flynn right now.

Your stalker tendencies are running wild.

I am at work. I will e-mail you when I get home.

Thank you for yet another gadget.

I wasn’t wrong when I said you were the ultimate consumer.

Why do you do this?

Ana

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sagacity from one so young
Date: May 27 2011 13:24
To: Anastasia Steele
Fair point well made, as ever, Miss Steele.

Dr. Flynn is on vacation.

And I do this because I can.
Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

OK, this is beyond ridiculous. And really? He’s a stalker creeper guy, end of story.

The atmosphere between José and I has returned to normal, the attempted kiss forgotten. Well, it’s been swept under the rug that my inner goddess is lying on, eating grapes and tapping her fingers, waiting not so patiently for Sunday.

Why in God’s name are you still hanging out with this creep, let alone drinking beer with him, when you know he’s a rapey creep?

After a brief not-at-all-awkward-thank-goodness hug, José has gone. I don’t know when I’ll see him again, probably his photographic show, and once again, I’m blown away that he finally has an exhibition. I shall miss him and his boyish charm. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the Beetle. I know he’ll freak when he finds out, and I can only deal with one man at a time freaking out at me.

A not-at-all-awkward-thank-goodness-I’m-moving-hug. I wouldn’t miss him. I’d block him from my Facebook, delete him from my phone, and ice him out of my life so fast that to him, it would look like I had disappeared off the face of the earth.

“˜I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have the decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and it’s not an emotion I’m familiar with, and I don’t tolerate it very well. Call me.’

Seriously, dump him, please. This is scary.

Double crap. Will he ever give me a break? I scowl at the phone. He is suffocating me. With a deep dread uncurling in my stomach, I scroll down to his number and press dial. My heart is in my mouth as I wait for him to answer. He’d probably like to beat seven shades of shit out of me. The thought is depressing.

Just…no.

Elliot is adorable and so different from Christian. He’s warm, open, physical, very physical, too physical, with Kate. They can barely keep their hands off each other – to be honest it’s embarrassing – and I am pea-green with envy.

Yeah, because your boyfriend is a controlling, stalking, frigid douchebag.

I wake early to a gray Sunday morning after a surprisingly refreshing night’s sleep and lie awake staring at my crates. You should really be unpacking these, my subconscious nags, pursing her harpy lips together. No”¦ today’s the day. My inner goddess is beside herself, hopping from foot to foot. Anticipation hangs heavy and portentous over my head like a dark tropical storm cloud. Butterflies flood my belly – as well as a darker, carnal, captivating ache as I try to imagine what he will do to me”¦and of course, I have to sign that damned contract, or do I?

OK, so as far we know, she’s a harpy and a goddess. What other creatures from Greek mythology does she have inside her? The Cyclops? Medusa? The Nemean lion? Icarus? The possibilities are endless! And will Kevin McKidd as Poseidon and Sean Bean as Zeus show up in this too? Because God knows this book needs them. Just cross your fingers that Sean Bean doesn’t die in this, too!

 

Go girl! My inner goddess has her pompoms in hand – she’s in cheerleading mode.

 

I check out my plum dress, well – Kate’s plum dress. The last time I wore this, he wanted to peel it off me. My body clenches at the thought. Oh my, the feeling is just exquisite, and I catch my breath. I’m wearing the underwear that Taylor bought for me. I flush at the thought of his buzz cut roaming the aisles of Agent Provocateur or wherever he bought it. 

Yeah, he just wants to peel you out of it like someone would peel a banana, baby. And now you have the hots for Taylor, Ana! Wow, it just seems that ever since Christian deflowered you, you have this insatiable desire for sex, like you were missing out on it for so long! Just look at you go, you big slut, you! Now we just have to find you a decent guy, aside from these losers Christian and Jose and Paul Clayton. Yes, Taylor is a candidate for decent guy. Add him to the list. He bought you pretty underwear, after all! He’s worth a try.

And that’s a wrap for the week! Stay tuned for Chapter Eighteen!