fifty-shades-of-grey

Please him! He wants me to please him! I think my mouth drops open. Please ChristianGrey. And I realize, in that moment, that yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. I wanthim to be damned delighted with me. It’s a revelation.“In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me,” he says softly. His voice ishypnotic.“How do I do that?” My mouth is dry, and I wish I had more wine. Okay, I understandthe pleasing bit, but I am puzzled by the soft-boudoir-Elizabethan-torture set up. Do I wantto know the answer?“I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and formy pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don’t,I shall punish you, and you will learn,” he whispers. I glance at the rack of canes as hesays this.“And where does all this fit in?” I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.“It’s all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment.”“So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.”“It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you.I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy, even in your submission. The more you submit, thegreater my joy – it’s a very simple equation.”“Okay, and what do I get out of this?”He shrugs and looks almost apologetic.“Me,” he says simply.Oh my. Christian rakes his hand through his hair as he gazes at me.“You’re not giving anything away, Anastasia,” he murmurs, exasperated. “Let’s goback downstairs where I can concentrate better. It’s very distracting having you in here.”He holds his hand out to me, and now I’m hesitant to take it.Kate had said he was dangerous, she was so right. How did she know? He’s dangerousto my health, because I know I’m going to say yes. And part of me doesn’t want to.Part of me wants to run screaming from this room and all it represents. I am so out of mydepth here.“I’m not going to hurt you, Anastasia.” His gray eyes implore, and I know he speaksthe truth. I take his hand, and he leads me out of the door.“If you do this, let me show you.” Rather than going back downstairs, he turns rightout of the playroom, as he calls it, and down a corridor. We pass several doors until wereach the one at the end. Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, all in white…everything, furniture, walls, bedding. It’s sterile and cold but with the most glorious viewof Seattle through the glass wall.“This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like inhere.”“My room? You’re expecting me to move in?” I can’t hide the horror in my voice.“Not full time. Just say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that,negotiate. If you want to do this,” he adds, his voice quiet and hesitant.“I’ll sleep here?”“Yes.”“Not with you.”