The last chapter was so short that I feel the need to do another tonight. Plus a date-night was canceled because my daughter got sick, which means I’m sitting on the couch with time to kill. Can I kill Christian Grey instead, or will there be a race to that privilege?
This is an 86-page chapter. So it will be broken into parts.
I was about to call James out on dragging the Rolling Stones into this, but she instead has Grey acknowledge something. He’s taking a morning run that just happens to go by her place when his morning runs never have before. He wants to see where she lives. He admits…
It’s between control freak and stalker.
HE ADMITS IT! HELL FROZE OVER!! He knows what he is!!!
I chuckle to myself. I’m just running. It’s a free country.
Even Pornstashe looks surprised. As I said in a reply to a comment, this book is an inside look at the mind of a rapist (who we are supposed to LIKE), and it’s conditioning fans to think like rapists and to explain away bad and scary behavior.
Grey runs some more and gets in the way of people setting up a farmers’ market, and ends the section on this vague thought.
Today’s the day.
The day for what? When a book is in first person, it doesn’t work well to keep the narrator’s thoughts a secret.
Actually, it might not be a secret. This book is, all in all, forgettable enough that I might have forgotten.
In the next scene, he pulls a hair tie from his chest of drawers. In this area of the US, we call it a dresser, and a hair tie is more commonly called a rubber band. Why on earth did he put a rubber band in his shirt pocket?
Since IMing doesn’t exist in their world, he sends her an email. I think part of why this is so strange is that I have over 336,284 unread emails.
That’s number’s heading up since I’m having it check for new messages.
Also because IMing is direct and faster. Why send a snail mail when you have a readable walkie-talkie?
He tells her the garage and elevator pass codes, and she replies right away thanking him for the alcohol and balloon. Because he’s a walking bag of testosterone, he immediately imagines her tied up.
The next page is so forgettable that I feel like a goldfish for forgetting it so fast. Upon second reading, I now have to stop eating my snack. He’s eating a croissant, and so am I. Only now I’m not because I lost my appetite for it. None of this is relevant to anything.
Ana arrives, and he’s surprised she hasn’t run off. When you expect someone to run off, that’s a sign you’re doing it wrong. But she’s there. It’s not like she has a choice. He’ll just stalk her.
I can’t believe my luck.
I knew you were a freak, Ana.
No. She isn’t a freak. She knows she has no choice. You really will stalk her. She’s stuck.
Oh, yeah. The house-call by the terrible doctor. Ana asks about Dr. Greene, and Grey tells her Dr. Greene’s supposed to be the best OB/GYN (which James wrote as ob-gyn) in Seattle. I know he’s wrong. Any half-way decent doctor would want the patient’s consent, and would want any exams to be done in an environment known to be clean and sanitary and with the proper equipment. If you’ve ever had a pap smear, as Ana will have, you’ll know how a lack of stir-ups will make it pretty hard.
Grey tells her he’s supposed to invite her to dinner, but that he thinks it would be “odd” for them him to introduce them, and I agree. Ana asks if he’s ashamed of her. He’s irritated, and so am I. I don’t like agreeing with him. They’ve been dating (if we consider the first date of meaningless fucking to be the start of dating) for about a week now. I only met my husband’s mom two days after we started dating since we were already good friends for a few years, and I have exes I dated several months whose families I never met. Typically, meeting family means a step forward in the relationship, and all Grey and Ana have is that they’re grinding genitalia.
The doctor arrives, and Taylor shows her to Ana’s room. What kind of doctor wouldn’t be extremely uncomfortable making a Sunday house call to the home of people she’s never met, especially without ever talking to the patient? Before Ana goes, Grey kisses her.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait to get you naked.” I can’t believe how much I missed you.
Literally all they have is sex, and we’re supposed to see this as a romance.
Then they head up to meet the doctor.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” I flash her my most benign smile.
“Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele,” she says politely to Ana, and I know she’s sizing up our relationship. I’m sure that she thinks I should be twiddling a mustache like a silent-movie villain. She turns and gives me a pointed “leave now” kind of look.
Twiddling a mustache? Yes. I’m unsettled that she thanks them for “making it worth [her] while.” Medical ethics can be abandoned for a price.
After the exam and Ana had birth control injected into her, Dr. Greene meets with Grey again.
“Yes, Mr. Grey. Look after her; she’s a beautiful, bright young woman.”
What has Ana told her?
“I fully intend to,” I say, with a quick what-the-fuck glance at Ana.
She bats her lashes, clueless. Good. It’s nothing she’s said, then.
“I’ll send you my bill,” says Dr. Greene. “Good day, and good luck to you, Ana.”
That’s not alarming or anything, right? Somehow she realized something’s amiss, and basically gave Grey a heads up, though her hands aren’t clean either. Grey turning his attention to Ana in the way he did shows us that he knows, on some level, that there is something concerning Ana could say.
How often has a doctor told you good luck regarding a relationship?
After the doctor leaves, Ana jokes that she can’t have sex for four weeks, and Grey retaliates by narrowing his eyes and scaring her. Her grin over her own joke drops from her face. To him, her fear is funny. He wants to punish her my forcing her to have sex on the counter. So…rape. But he doesn’t, at least not yet.
“As much as I’d like to take you here and now, you need to eat and so do I. I don’t want you passing out on me later,” I whisper.
“Is that all you want me for—my body?” she asks.
“That and your smart mouth.” I kiss her once more, thinking of what’s to come…My kiss deepens and desire hardens my body. I want this woman. Before I fuck her on the floor, I release her, and we’re both breathless.
That’s sad. It really, really is. All he wants her for is to basically be a cum-receptacle, whether he ejaculates into her vagina or her mouth, and he says so right there.
For lunch, Grey grabs a salad from the fridge that Mrs. Jones left there, and he congratulates himself on being “so domestic.”
Few things are less domestic than grabbing food from the fridge that is already made. Pulling off a lid (even that much wasn’t mentioned) doesn’t mean domestic. Grey, get back to me when you’ve gotten out the produce, cleaned and chopped it, cooked the chicken, tossed it with the cheese and dressing in the bowl, and then cleaned up.
Know whats’s even more domestic? Taking care of a sick child. My daughter’s sleeping beside me right now since she really wants to be close to mommy, and I’m prepared for her to throw up again.
So they get ready to eat, and he asks what she got. She says the mini-pill. Is that what she got in the original?
Okay, she did. She’ll get Depo later. Since the mini-pill MUST be taken at the SAME time every day without a grace period, this is the worst method to give to someone who is regularly a goldfish. Even Grey thinks to himself, “You should have had the shot.” But this doesn’t mean he’ll be satisfied using condoms for long.
As soon as she’s finished eating, he grabs her for sex. Right away, she’s nervous.
“Are you going to hit me?”
“Yes, but it won’t be to hurt you. I don’t want to punish you right now. If you’d caught me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story.”
Her face turns to shock.
Oh, baby. “Don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise, Anastasia. One of the reasons people like me to do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It’s very simple. You don’t, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that.”
He knows she doesn’t like being hit, but is going to do it anyway.
She asks if he concluded anything, and nope, he says he hasn’t, though his continued plan to hit her seems like a conclusion to me.
I lead her upstairs and into my playroom. My safe place. Where I can do what I wish with her. I close my eyes, briefly savoring the exhilaration.
Have I ever been this excited?
HIS safe place. The one needing a safe place is the one being ignored.
He starts pulling her clothes off, and he says something that, in any other book, would be sweet.
“I want you to be comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it. It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?”
If he wasn’t so mean to her, and always chastising her for being too skinny, and was treated like a human being with respect and dignity, she might feel better about herself.
He pulls the rubber band from his jeans pocket (I wonder when he moved it) to hold her hair back. Who does that? Who, when getting dressed, grabs a rubber band to tie someone else’s hair back later?
I’m not going into detail with this sex scene. In short, he puts her through a full, rather mild, BSDM scene, with a very noticeable lack of enthusiasm on her part.
Afterward, they’re laying on the bed in the playroom, and… This next bit shocked me since it’s actually rather well-written, and it’s a bit of continuity that isn’t Grey being a walking erection. He’s supposed to have trauma that makes him not like to be touched, and anti’s have had a field day pointing out all the many times he forgets about that, always when it’s convenient.
And suddenly I’m overwhelmed by an unfamiliar emotion that rocks through me, slicing through sinew and bone, leaving unease and fear in its wake.
She turns her head and starts to nuzzle my chest.
The darkness swells, startling and familiar, replacing my unease with a sense of dread. Every muscle in my body tenses. Ana blinks up at me with clear, unflinching eyes as I struggle to control my fear.
“Don’t,” I whisper. Please.
She leans back and peers at my chest.
Get control, Grey.
“Kneel by the door,” I order, uncurling around her.
Go. Don’t touch me.
See? We are actually shown his fear instead of just told, and the pacing gives his need to puts some distance between them a sense of urgency.
He orders her to kneel by the door, and then grabs a cable tie to bind her wrists together. He has scissors, but this is still extremely dangerous. This is a cable tie:
What do you think happens when the flesh around one of those begins to swell? You’re not going to fit scissors between the skin and tie if the tie’s tight enough to hold a couple appendages together. This risks major damage to the person being bound, not only when cutting, but during use, these things cause nerve damage. This is BDSM 101.
This leads into another sex scene, but before Grey, uh, takes the plunge, he tells us:
Her back is a perfect curve, each vertebra outlined from her nape to her fine, fine ass.
Remember this for later. Remember how much he enjoys seeing her bones when he tells her later she’s too skinny.
He carries her to bed to sleep, and yay…a symbolic dream.
In it, be brushes her hair, and they’re happy, and they go to bake an apple pie.
Why the hell does he hate his mother so much? In none of his memories or dreams does she ever mistreat him, and most of his memories are happy.