fifty-shades-of-grey

“Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement,you don’t need my permission to use it.” He cannot hide his irritation. Heshrugs out of his shirt, and I scoot into the bathroom.I stare at myself in the over-large mirror, shocked that I still look the same. After allthat I’ve done today, it’s still the same ordinary girl gaping back at me. What did you expect– that you’d grow horns and a little pointy tail? My subconscious snaps at me. Andwhat the hell are you doing? Touching is his hard limit. Too soon, you idiot, he needs towalk before he can run. My subconscious is furious, medusa-like in her anger, hair flying,her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch’s Scream. I ignore her, but shewon’t climb back into her box. You are making him mad – think about all that’s he’s said,all he’s conceded. I scowl at my reflection. I need to be able to show him affection – thenperhaps he can reciprocate.I shake my head resigned and grasp Christian’s toothbrush. My subconscious is rightof course. I’m rushing him. He’s not ready and neither am I. We are balanced on thedelicate see-saw, that is our strange arrangement – at different ends, vacillating, and it tipsand sways between us. We both need to edge closer to the middle. I just hope neither of usfalls off in our attempt to do so. This is all so quick. Maybe I need some distance. Georgiaseems more appealing than ever. As I begin brushing my teeth, he knocks.“Come in,” I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste.Christian stands in the doorway, his PJs hanging off his hips – in that way that makesevery little cell in my body stand up and take notice. He’s bare-chested, and I drink himin like I’m crazed with thirst and he’s clear cool mountain spring water. He gazes at meimpassively, then smirks and comes to stand beside me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, grayto blue. I finish with his toothbrush, rinse it off, and hand it to him, my look never leavinghis. Wordlessly, he takes the toothbrush from me and puts it in his mouth. I smirk back athim, and his eyes are suddenly dancing with humor.“Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush.” His tone is gently mocking.“Thank you, Sir,” I smile sweetly, and I leave, heading back to bed.A few minutes later he joins me.“You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out,” he mutters petulantly.“Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me.”He clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged.“Anastasia, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life – you don’t want thatshit in your head. Why would you?”“Because I want to know you better.”“You know me well enough.”“How can you say that?” I struggle up onto my knees, facing him.He rolls his eyes at me, frustrated.“You’re rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee.”“Oh, I’d like to put you there again.”Inspiration hits me.“Tell me and you can.”“What?”“You heard me.”