fifty-shades-of-grey

quail at the thought. I haven’t signed that contract yet. Perhaps I won’t. Perhaps I’ll stayin Georgia where he can’t reach me.“How are you settling into your new apartment dear?” Grace asks politely.I’m grateful for her question, distracting me from my discordant thoughts, and I tellher about our move.As we finish our starters, Gretchen appears, and not for the first time, I wish I felt ableto put my hands freely on Christian just to let her know – he may be fifty shades of fuckedup,but he’s mine. She proceeds to clear the table, brushing rather too closely to Christianfor my liking. Fortunately, he seems oblivious to her, but my inner goddess is smolderingand not in a good way.Kate and Mia are waxing lyrical about Paris.“Have you been to Paris, Ana?” Mia asks innocently, distracting me from my jealousreverie.“No, but I’d love to go.” I know I’m the only one at the table who has never left mainlandUSA.“We honeymooned in Paris.” Grace smiles at Mr. Grey who grins back at her.It’s almost embarrassing to witness. They obviously love each other deeply, and Iwonder for a brief moment what it must be like to grow up with both one’s parents in situ.“It’s a beautiful city,” Mia agrees. “In spite of the Parisians. Christian, you should takeAna to Paris,” Mia states firmly.“I think Anastasia would prefer London,” Christian says softly.Oh… he remembered. He places his hand on my knee – his fingers traveling up mythigh. My whole body tightens in response. No… not here, not now. I flush and shift, tryingto pull away from him. His hand clamps down on my thigh, stilling me. I reach formy wine, in desperation.Little Miss European Pigtails returns, all coy glances and swaying hips, with our entrée,a Beef Wellington, I think. Fortunately, she gives us our plates and then leaves, althoughshe lingers handing Christian his. He looks quizzically at me as I watch her closethe dining room door.“So what was wrong with the Parisians?” Elliot asks his sister. “Didn’t they take toyour winsome ways?”“Ugh, no they didn’t. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was sucha domineering tyrant.”I splutter into my wine.“Anastasia, are you okay?” Christian asks solicitously, taking his hand off my thigh.Humor has returned to his voice. Oh thank heavens. When I nod, he pats my backgently, and only removes his hand when he knows I’ve recovered.The beef is delicious and served with roasted sweet potatoes, carrots, parsnips, andgreen beans. It is even more palatable since Christian manages to retain his good-humorfor the rest of the meal. I suspect that it’s because I’m eating so heartily. The conversationflows freely among the Greys, warm and caring, gently teasing each other. Over our dessertof lemon syllabub, Mia regales us with her exploits in Paris, lapsing at one point intofluent French. We all stare at her, and she stares back puzzled, until Christian tells her in