Jesus fucking Christ. I lost my original post on this chapter. Gone into the ether…
And motherfuck does this chapter go on and on…arghghghellkgkldfjldsl!
Ana is at work now, and Christian is waiting for the fateful MEETING wherein he will reveal his mysterious alternative lifestyle and then discuss the terms of the contract, if indeed she is still willing. Christian passes the time by reading Jose’s background check. He’s relieved to find that Jose isn’t a sex offender who stalks women he barely knows, traces their cell phones, and does background checks on them and all their friends.
Jose does smoke the odd bit of weed, and Christian is scandalised! Only filthy hippies smoke marijuana. He hopes that sweet perfect angel Ana hasn’t been tainted by Jose and his filthy habits. But no, he metaphorically bites his knuckles in anguish, she is perfect. PERFECT! Gawd. It’s as if he were a character written by a middle aged woman.
Christian is so overcome he needs to burn off some energy by communing with nature. He goes for a hike but he spends the entire time thinking about Ana and all the ways that they will screw. He’s a classy dude.
Finally its date night. Christian is impatient. He’s lurking outside Ana’s workplace, Clayton’s, acting like a creepy creeper. And he’s mad because the last customer left FIVE MINUTES AGO and Ana has still not come out. Because when the last customer leaves, every employee just drops what they are doing and walks out the door. That’s how it works. It’s basic capitalism people!
They head off to a nearby building and get in the elevator to the top where Christian’s helicopter of love awaits. They waggle their eyebrows suggestively at each other, because we all know what happens when these two get in an elevator. Amirite?! Huh, huh?
Well, they manage to keep it together until they get to the roof.
Ana looks at the helicopter, asks if Christian knows how to fly this thing and is in wonderment when Christian says yes. It really doesn’t take much. Christian buckles her in because apparently it’s super confusing, and he wants an excuse to make bondage jokes.
They fly from Portland to Seattle. It’s fucking magical. Trust me.
It’s also a fucking miracle that they don’t crash because Christian is pretty clearly not paying any attention to flying. He’s busy ogling Ana and daydreaming about the weird and wonderful positions they’ll use during THE SEX.
They arrive at the top of Christian’s building and Christian once again makes clear just how much he wants Ana to understand and consent to his mysterious lifestyle. So as soon as they get inside he breaks out the booze because nothing says informed and enthusiastic consent like drunkenness!
They make awkward small talk about Christian’s apartment and belongings (its sooo big!). Ana asks him why he sent her the book. Remember the book? Christian fumbles for an excuse – he doesn’t want to admit he just had it lying around. He says his, “answer is truthful enough.”
Christian stops to tell us just how purdy Ana is. In case was had forgotten.
“My cock concurs.”
It does, does it? Is it all, “Indeed Captain, Anastasia is a lovely specimen of species hyoomahn.” It’s like Spock. Spock cock.
From now on, every time the word cock gets used, I am mentally substituting it with Spock.
The sweet appreciative noise echoes through me – to the end of my Spock.
It’s such an extraordinary, exquisite feeling: her body cradling my Spock.
My Spock stirs with approval.
Hee hee hee. That is all.
They finally get to looking at the contracts. Christian tries to hand her the NDA, saying that if they are to have any more interactions she must sign and be legally bound to never speak a word to anyone. Ana agrees to sign without even looking at it. Christian is aghast. Is she stupid?!
The very next exchange pretty much removes any doubt. Christian takes her to see his playroom.
“You want to play on your Xbox?”
She says that. For real. I guess he was a little too mysterious about his alternate lifestyle, since Ana thinks it involves him being some kind of high rent neckbeard. Oh sweet special Ana.
They open the playroom in the big reveal, and Ana is still confused, but interested at least. She asks Christian just what she is going to get out of this relationship. Christian answers with a shrug. He doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.
They head back downstairs, and Ana indicates that she may not be all that interested in what Christian has to offer. He plies her with more wine. They discuss the agreement. Instead of reading the fucking thing, Ana interrogates him on what items might be in such an agreement.
Ana’s a bit put off by the idea, and asks if it is easy to find women who will agree to being flogged or bound or whatnot. Christian replies that it sure is. Super easy. Like you wouldn’t believe how easy. Ana then asks, why her in particular?
Oh why indeed. Christian leaves no cliché un-clichéd in his answer:
“There’s something about you. I just can’t leave you alone. I’m like a moth to a flame.”
The convo goes on and on like this, getting nowhere. They finally turn to the subject of hard limits.
Ana doesn’t know her limits because…
…she’s never had sex before.
Christian is furious! He takes Ana’s virginity as some kind of personal insult, and resolves to rectify the ‘situation.’ Now that Ana is full of wine, he takes her up to his playroom and makes sweet sweet love to her. The very thing he JUST SAID he didn’t do.
Ana agrees, because she’s drunk and dumb and horny. Christian keeps asking her, Do you have any idea how much I want you? Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you? Dude! We’ve established that Ana doesn’t know anything about anything. Just fucking lay off, OK?
They have sex, for like ten damn pages. Of course, we’re told that everyone had a good time, but it’s…just weird. Ana has two (count ’em, two) orgasms just from Christian ordering her to do so. You know, with his magic sparkling
vampire billionaire powers.
Then for some reason it turns into the world’s sexiest spelling bee.
F. U. C. K.
He thinks each individual letter. I’m not kidding. Then Christian gives the order, and they both orgasm again, and roll over and fall asleep. And thank fucking God. It’s over.