fifty-shades-of-grey

sinks, I notice with irony. Given he doesn’t sleep with anyone, one of them can’t havebeen used.I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look different? I feel different.I feel a little sore, if I’m honest, and my muscles - jeez it’s like I’ve never done anyexercise in my life. You don’t do any exercise in your life, my subconscious has woken.She’s staring at me with pursed lips, tapping her foot. So you’ve just slept with him, givenhim your virginity, a man who doesn’t love you. In fact, he has very odd ideas about you,wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.ARE YOU CRAZY? She’s shouting at me.I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, fancyfalling for a man who’s beyond beautiful, richer than Croesus, and has a Red Room of Painwaiting for me. I shudder. I’m bewildered and confused. My hair is its usual waywardself. Just-fucked hair doesn’t suit me. I try and bring order to the chaos with my fingersbut fail miserably and give up – maybe I’ll find hair ties in my purse.I’m starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so Ileave him and head for the kitchen.Oh no… Kate. I left my purse in Christian’s study. I fetch it and reach for my cellphone. Three texts.*RU OK Ana**Where RU Ana**Damn it Ana*I call Kate. When she doesn’t answer, I leave her a groveling message to tell her I amalive and have not succumbed to Bluebeard, well not in the sense she would be worriedabout – or perhaps I have. Oh this is so confusing. I have to try and categorize and analyzemy feelings for Christian Grey. It’s an impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I needalone time, away from here to think.I find two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pigtails.Yes! The more girly I look, perhaps the safer I’ll be from Bluebeard. I take my iPodout of the bag and plug my headphones in. There’s nothing like music to cook by. I slip itinto the breast pocket of Christian’s shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing.Holy hell, I’m hungry.I am daunted by his kitchen. It’s so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards havehandles. It takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors toopen them. Perhaps I should cook Christian breakfast. He was eating an omelet the otherday… um, yesterday at the Heathman. Jeez, so much has happened since then. I checkin the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I setabout making some batter, dancing my way round the kitchen.Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. Music blaringin my ears also helps to stave off deep thought. I came here to spend the night in ChristianGrey’s bed, and managed it, even though he doesn’t let anyone in his bed. I smile, missionaccomplished. Big time. I grin. Big, big time, and I’m distracted by the memory of lastnight. His words, his body, his lovemaking… I close my eyes as my body hums at the rec-