fifty-shades-of-grey

“Anastasia,” he warns, and I want to roll my eyes but quickly stop myself. I stand facingthe bed. Sitting beside me, he gently pulls my sweatpants down again. Up and downlike whores’ drawers my subconscious remarks bitterly. In my head, I tell her where to go.Christian squirts baby oil into his hand and then rubs my behind with careful tenderness– from makeup remover to smoothing balm for a spanked ass, who would have thought itwas such a versatile liquid.“I like my hands on you,” he murmurs, and I have to agree, me too.“There,” he says when he’s finished, and he pulls my pants up again.I glance over at my clock. It’s ten-thirty.“I’m leaving now.”“I’ll see you out.” I still can’t look at him.Taking my hand, he leads me to the front door. Fortunately, Kate is still not home. Shemust still be having dinner with her folks and Ethan. I’m really glad she’s not been aroundto hear my chastisement.“Don’t you have to call Taylor?” I ask, avoiding eye contact.“Taylor’s been here since nine. Look at me,” he breathes.I struggle to meet his eyes, but when I do, he’s gazing down at me with wonder.“You didn’t cry,” he murmurs, then grabs me suddenly and kisses me fervently. “Sunday,”he whispers against my lips, and it’s both a promise and a threat.I watch him walk down the path and climb into the big black Audi. He doesn’t lookback. I close the door and stand helpless in the living room of an apartment that I shallonly spend another two nights in. A place I have lived happily for almost four years… yettoday, for the first time ever, I feel lonely and uncomfortable here, unhappy with my owncompany. Have I strayed so far from who I am? I know that lurking, not very far undermy rather numb exterior, is a well of tears. What am I doing? The irony is I can’t even sitdown and enjoy a good cry. I’ll have to stand. I know it’s late, but I decide to call my mom.“Honey, how are you? How was graduation?” she enthuses down the phone. Hervoice is a soothing balm.“Sorry it’s so late,” I whisper.She pauses.“Ana? What’s wrong?” She’s all seriousness now.“Nothing, Mom, I just wanted to hear your voice.”She’s silent for a moment.“Ana, what is it? Please tell me.” Her voice is soft and comforting, and I know that shecares. Uninvited, my tears begin to flow. I have cried so often in the last few days.“Please, Ana,” she says, and her anguish reflects mine.“Oh, Mom, it’s a man.”“What’s he done to you?” Her alarm is palpable.“It’s not like that.” Although it is… Oh crap. I don’t want to worry her. I just wantsomeone else to be strong for me at the moment.“Ana, please, you’re worrying me.”I take a big breath.“I’ve kind of fallen for this guy, and he’s so different from me, and I don’t know if weshould be together.”