Happy Monday! Guess what – we’re almost done with Fifty Shades of Grey! We’re now on Chapter Twenty-one, so without further ado, let’s get this recap started!
There is light everywhere. Bright, warm, piercing light, and I endeavor to keep it at bay for a few more precious minutes. I want to hide, just a few more minutes. But the glare is too strong, and I finally succumb to wakefulness. A glorious Seattle morning greets me ““ sunshine pouring through the full-height windows and flooding the room with too-bright light.
I bet our resident copy editors would love to unfuck this selection. Anyone game?
He is without a doubt the most beautiful man on the planet, too beautiful for the little people below, too beautiful for me. No, my inner goddess scowls at me, not too beautiful for me. He is sort of mine, for now. The idea sends a thrill through my blood and dispels my irrational self-doubt.
Does anyone think Ana’s inner goddess needs to shut up?
This is not making love, this is fucking ““ and I love it. I groan. It’s so raw, so carnal, making me so wanton.
And that brings this scene to mind:
I cry out a wordless, passionate plea as I touch the sun and burn, falling around him, falling down, back to a breathless, bright summit on Earth”¦.Wow… that was unexpected. I slowly materialize back on Earth.
I look to my subconscious. She’s whistling with her hands behind her back and looking anywhere but at me. She hasn’t got a clue, and my inner goddess is still basking in a remnant of post-coital glow. No ““ we’re all clueless.
The receptionist is a young African-American woman with large silver earrings and long straightened hair. She has a bohemian look about her, the sort of woman I could be friendly with. The thought is comforting.
So is Ana trying to show us she isn’t a racist because she wants to have a black friend? Not understanding here.
He likes control over everything, including me. Yet he’s so unpredictably and disarmingly agreeable, too. He can be tender, good-humored, even sweet. And when he is, it’s so left field and unexpected.
A woman with long, black, pre-Raphaelite hair standing by the reception desk distracts me from my introspection. She has the same bohemian, floaty look as the receptionist. She could be in her late thirties, maybe in her forties. It’s so difficult to tell with older women.
I launch into details of my librarianship at the campus central library, and my one experience of interviewing an obscenely rich despot for the student magazine. I gloss over the part that I didn’t actually write the article. I mention the two literary societies that I belonged to and conclude with working at Clayton’s and all the useless knowledge I now possess about hardware and DIY.
If she worked at the library, wouldn’t you think she’d know how to use a computer?
Is Christian afraid of his feelings for me? Does he even have feelings for me? He seems very keen, says I’m his ““ but that’s just part of his I-must-own-and-have-everything-now control-freak dominant self, surely. I realize that while I’m away, I will have to run through all our conversations again and see if I can pick out telltale signs.
Here’s an idea: While you’re away, stay away once you’ve realized he’s a creep!
“˜Surely there’s some mistake.’
“˜No, no.’ He checks his computer screen again. “˜Anastasia Steele ““ upgrade.’ He simpers at me.
Ugh. I narrow my eyes. He hands me my boarding pass, and I head towards the first class lounge muttering under my breath. Damn Christian Grey, interfering control freak ““ he just can’t leave well enough alone.
Well, I think there’s your answer!
And have a great rest of the week, all! And no worries, there’s more recaps to come!