fifty-shades-of-grey

and drink the entire glass. It makes me feel queasy. Taking the glass from me, he places iton the bar. I notice through a blur what he’s wearing; a loose white linen shirt, snug jeans,black Converse sneakers, and a dark pinstriped jacket. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top,and I see a sprinkling of hair in the gap. In my groggy frame of mind, he looks yummy.He takes my hand once more. Holy cow – he’s leading me onto the dance floor. Shit.I do not dance. He can sense my reluctance, and under the colored lights, I can see hisamused, slightly sardonic smile. He gives my hand a sharp tug, and I’m in his arms again,and he starts to move, taking me with him. Boy, he can dance, and I can’t believe that I’mfollowing him step for step. Maybe it’s because I’m drunk that I can keep up. He’s holdingme tight against him, his body against mine… if he wasn’t clutching me so tightly, I’msure I would swoon at his feet. In the back of my mind, my mother’s often-recited warningcomes to me: Never trust a man who can dance.He moves us through the crowded throng of dancers to the other side of the dance floor,and we are beside Kate and Elliot, Christian’s brother. The music is pounding away, loudand leery, outside and inside my head. I gasp. Kate is making her moves. She’s dancingher ass off, and she only ever does that if she likes someone. Really likes someone. Itmeans there’ll be three of us for breakfast tomorrow morning. Kate!Christian leans over and shouts in Elliot’s ear. I cannot hear what he says. Elliot istall with wide shoulders, curly blonde hair, and light, wickedly gleaming eyes. I can’t tellthe color under the pulsating heat of the flashing lights. Elliot grins, and pulls Kate intohis arms, where she is more than happy to be… Kate! Even in my inebriated state, I amshocked. She’s only just met him. She nods at whatever Elliot says and grins at me andwaves. Christian propels us off the dance floor in double quick time.But I never got to talk to her. Is she okay? I can see where things are heading for herand him. I need to do the safe sex lecture. In the back of my mind, I hope she reads one ofthe posters on the back of the toilet doors. My thoughts crash through my brain, fightingthe drunk, fuzzy feeling. It’s so warm in here, so loud, so colorful – too bright. My headbegins to swim, oh no… and I can feel the floor coming up to meet my face or so it feels.The last thing I hear before I pass out in Christian Grey’s arms is his harsh epithet.“Fuck!”