fifty-shades-of-grey

I wake with a jolt. I think I’ve just fallen down some stairs in a dream, and I bolt upright,momentarily disorientated. It is dark, and I’m in Christian’s bed alone. Something haswoken me, some nagging thought. I glance over at the alarm clock on his bedside. It is5:00 in the morning, but I feel rested. Why is that? Oh – it’s the time difference – it wouldbe 8:00 a.m. in Georgia. Holy crap… I need to take my pill. I clamber out of bed, gratefulfor whatever it is that has woken me. I can hear faint notes from the piano. Christian isplaying. This I must see. I love watching him play. Naked, I grab my bathrobe from thechair and wander quietly down the corridor, slipping on my robeand listening to the magicalsound of the melodic lament that’s coming from the great room.Shrouded in darkness, Christian sits in a bubble of light as he plays, and his hair glintswith burnished copper highlights. He looks naked, though I know he’s wearing his PJbottoms. He’s concentrating, playing beautifully, lost in the melancholy of the music. Ihesitate, watching from the shadows, not wanting to interrupt him. I want to hold him.He looks lost, sad even, and achingly lonely – or maybe it’s just the music that’s so full ofpoignant sorrow. He finishes the piece, pauses for a split second, then starts to play it again.I move cautiously toward him, drawn as the moth to the flame… the idea makes me smile.He glances up at me and frowns before his gaze returns to his handsOh crap, is he pissed off that I am disturbing him?“You should be asleep,” he scolds mildly.