Happy Tuesday, Persephoneers! Let’s get set for another recap of Fifity Shades of Grey. We’re on Chapter Twelve, and of course I can’t resist offering my commentary. So away we go!
I put my hair in pigtails, blushing at the memories they bring back, and I plug in my iPod.
- Let me get this straight: She doesn’t have an email address, but she has an iPod? But you need an email address to even register your iPod and get an iTunes account. Or maybe she’s just mooching off Kate’s iTunes account?
She doesn’t do it on purpose, I know, but I haul my sorry, perspiration clad, old t-shirt, sweat pants, and sneakers ass into my room on the pretext of packing more boxes.
How can you be clad in perspiration?
He wants me, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Kate in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. Me. This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland.
The sentence is very awkward, in that it implies Ana was the one who had a thing for Kate in her little bikinis and Mrs. Robinson. Not that this is the case, but if you weren’t reading it closely, you’d scratch your head and be very confused.
‘Good evening, Anastasia.’ His voice is cool, his expression completely guarded and unreadable. The capacity to speak deserts me. Damn Kate for letting him in here with no warning.
I hear the ice clink against the glass, and he puts it down again and leans down and kisses me, pouring a delicious crisp liquid into my mouth as he does. It’s white wine. It’s so unexpected, hot, though it’s chilled, and Christian’s lips are cool.
He pops a fragment of ice in my navel in a pool of cool, cold wine. It burns all the way down to the depths of my belly. Wow.
Wow, she must have a really big, deep navel. Like a wine glass!
‘That was really nice,’ I whisper, smiling coyly.
‘There’s that word again.’
‘You don’t like that word?’
‘No. It doesn’t do it for me at all.’
‘Oh ““ I don’t know”¦ it seems to have a very beneficial effect on you.’
‘I’m a beneficial effect, now am I? Could you wound my ego any further, Miss Steele?’
Does it sound to you guys like he thinks he’s 007 or something? “The name is Bond, James Bond. And I just did the nasty with your daughter, Mr. Remington Steele. She states that I’m a very beneficial effect on her.”
‘I see. So you are still considering my proposition?’
‘Your indecent proposal”¦ yes I am. I have issues though.’
He grins down at me as if relieved.
‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.’
‘I was going to e-mail them to you, but you kind of interrupted me.’
‘See, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere in there.’ I smile.
I open the door for him and stare down at my hands. This is the first time I have ever had sex in my home, and as sex goes, I think it was pretty damn fine. But now I feel like a receptacle ““ an empty vessel to be filled at his whim.
The correct verbiage, Ana, is cum dumpster.
Patiently, I explain the essence of my e-mail without giving anything away.
‘So you thought he’d reply by e-mail.’
‘But instead he turns up here.’
‘I’d say he’s completely smitten with you.’
I’d say he’s a douche, among other things.
I frown. Christian, smitten with me? Hardly. He’s just looking for a new toy ““ a convenient new toy that he can bed and do unspeakable things to. My heart tightens painfully. This is the reality.
‘He came here to fuck me, that’s all.’
‘Who said romance was dead?’ she whispers horrified. I’ve shocked Kate. I didn’t think that was possible.
‘He uses sex as a weapon.’
‘Fuck you into submission?’ She shakes her head disapprovingly. I blink rapidly at her, and I can feel the blush as it spreads across my face. Oh”¦ spot on, Katherine Kavanagh, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist.
‘Ana, I don’t understand, you just let him make love to you?’
‘No, Kate, we don’t make love ““ we fuck ““ Christian’s terminology. He doesn’t do the love thing.’
Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ana! He already told you what he was about. If you’re not all for it, just keep the new laptop because it was, technically, a gift, and move on. Right now you don’t need someone to feel sorry for you. You need someone to tell you like it is. And I’d say dump his goofy ass.
Not sure why this is solely for MY benefit ““ i.e., to explore MY sensuality and limits. I’m sure I wouldn’t need a ten-page contract to do that! Surely this is for YOUR benefit.
And just for shits and giggles, here’s a Linotte Reads Fifty Shades of Grey challenge: Find another prospective boyfriend/partner or bed buddy for Ana aside from Christian. Who is he/she and why? Provide a picture and brief explanation as to why in the comments!
And that’s all! As Tigger would say, TTFN –Ta-ta for now!