fifty-shades-of-grey

“Yes,” he murmurs.“I see.”“And what’s more, you’ll want me to,” he adds, his voice low.I sincerely doubt that. I slice another piece of venison, holding it against my mouth.“It’s a big step,” I murmur and eat.“It is.” He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they are wide and grave.“Anastasia, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract – I’m happyto discuss any aspect. I’ll be in Portland until Friday if you want to talk about it beforethen.” His words are coming at me in a rush. “Call me – maybe we can have dinner – say,Wednesday? I really want to make this work. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything as muchas I want this to work.”His burning sincerity, his longing, is reflected in his eyes. This is fundamentally what Idon’t grasp. Why me? Why not one of the fifteen? Oh no… Will that be me – a number?Sixteen of many?“What happened to the fifteen?” I blurt.He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking his head.“Various things, but it boils down to,” he pauses, struggling to find the words I think.“Incompatibility.” He shrugs.“And you think that I might be compatible with you?”“Yes.”“So you’re not seeing any of them anymore?”“No, Anastasia, I’m not. I am monogamous in my relationships.”Oh… this is news.“I see.”“Do the research, Anastasia.”I put my knife and fork down. I cannot eat any more.“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to eat?”I nod. He scowls at me but chooses not to say anything. I breathe a small sigh of relief.My stomach is churning with all this new information, and I’m feeling a little lightheadedfrom the wine. I watch as he devours everything on his plate. He eats like a horse. Hemust work out to stay in such great shape. The memory of the way his PJ’s hung from hiships comes unbidden to my mind. The image is totally distracting. I squirm uncomfortably.He glances up at me, and I blush.“I’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right at this moment,” he murmurs.I blush further.He smiles a wicked smile at me.“I can guess,” he teases softly.“I’m glad you can’t read my mind.”“Your mind, no, Anastasia, but your body – that I’ve got to know quite well sinceyesterday.” His voice is suggestive. How does he switch so quickly from one mood to thenext? He’s so mercurial… It’s hard to keep up.He motions for the waitress and asks for the check. Once he’s paid, he stands and holdsout his hand.