fifty-shades-of-grey

The song ends and the iPod shuffles to Damien Rice being mournful. Who? Who? Istare out of the window, my stomach churning. Who?“It was Leila,” he answers my unspoken thoughts. How does he do that?“Leila?”“An ex, who put the song on my iPod.”Damien warbles away in the background as I sit stunned. An ex… ex-submissive? Anex–“One of the fifteen?” I ask.“Yes.”“What happened to her?”“We finished.”“Why?”Oh jeez. It’s too early for this kind of conversation. But he looks relaxed, happy even,and what’s more, talkative.“She wanted more.” His voice is low, introspective even, and he leaves the sentencehanging between us, ending it with that powerful little word again.“And you didn’t?” I ask before I can employ my brain to mouth filter. Shit, do I wantto know?He shakes his head.“I’ve never wanted more, until I met you.”I gasp, reeling. Oh my. Isn’t this what I want? He wants more. He wants it, too! Myinner goddess has back flipped off the podium and is doing cartwheels around the stadium.It’s not just me.“What happened to the other fourteen?” I ask.Jeez he’s talking – take advantage.“You want a list? Divorced, beheaded, died?”“You’re not Henry VIII.”“Okay. In no particular order, I’ve only had long term relationships with four women,apart from Elena.”“Elena?”“Mrs. Robinson to you.” He half smiles his secret private joke smile.Elena! Holy Fuck. The evil one has a name and its all-foreign sounding. A vision of aglorious, pale-skinned vamp with raven hair and ruby-red lips comes to mind, and I knowthat she’s beautiful. I must not dwell. I must not dwell.“What happened to the four?” I ask to distract myself.“So inquisitive, so eager for information, Miss Steele,” he scolds playfully.“Oh, Mr. When Is Your Period Due?”“Anastasia – a man needs to know these things.”“Does he?”“I do.”“Why?”“Because I don’t want you to get pregnant.”“Neither do I! Well, not for a few years yet.”