Updated on May 24, 2015
50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Six
After a thrilling couple of minutes in an elevator, in which Christian Grey stuck his tongue down Ana’s throat, we are forced to rejoin the story for Ana’s inevitably long-winded analysis of a situation her tiny brain has certainly failed to comprehend. Bloody hell.
50 Shades of Grey
As time ticks on, I assign [the kiss] mythical, Arthurian legend, Lost City of Atlantis status.
“Once upon a time, many years ago, a man kissed a woman he was attracted to. The End.” That would be a legend so shit, you’d think EL James wrote it.
I touch my lips, swollen from his kiss.
Did he kiss you, or bludgeon your mouth with his face?
They get in his car and he puts some opera on the radio. Her ears practically bleed with joy.
Is this the key to him? Music?
Yes. ‘The key’. We all have one. Mine is cheese.
He presses a button and The Kings of Leon start singing. Hmm … this I know.
<Insert sniffy hipster comment here, about how insufferably mainstream Ana is.>
Holy hell, is this his life – constant, nagging phone calls?
Holy hell, is this your life – constant, nagging shallowness?
“Hi, Christian, d’you get laid?”
Translation: “Hi, Christian, I got laid and want to talk about it.”
Christian hangs up, and the music is back.
Like the inexplicable feelings in her heart, and the magical tension in the air between them, that the melodic “Sex on Fire” epitomises so beautifully.
She tells him she prefers ‘Ana’ to ‘Anastasia’. He naturally ignores her.
“Anastasia … What happened in the elevator – it won’t happen again, well, not unless it’s premeditated.”
You old romantic you.
Why won’t he kiss me again? I pout at the thought.
I thought a quick fumble in a lift would have stopped Ana’s unbearable gurning. Apparently I was wrong.
Honestly, his surname should be Cryptic, not Grey.
Yeh, but only if this were some kind of two-dimensional universe in which people are defined by only one major characteristic, and thus become caricatures of themselves. It’s not though, because that would make for awful reading.
Grey and Ana get out at her duplex. Grey’s hair is described as ‘decadent’, and Kate has an ‘I’ve-been-having-a-good-time-all-night grin’, because that’s the sort of crap I’m reading.
Elliot [kisses] Kate, sweeping her off her feet and dipping her in a dramatic hold so that her hair touches the ground as he kisses her hard.
Either her hair is several feet long, or she’s going need to visit a chiropractor.
Kate just melts. I’ve never seen her melt before…
Oh God, someone should fetch a dishcloth or something.
A happy Kate … this is going to be interesting.
You treat your friends like some sort of sociology experiment.
“Wow. Ana Steele, finally falling for a man, and it’s [a] hot, sexy billionaire.”
Well, a girl’s got to have standards. Also hot and sexy are synonyms. Pick one.
“We need to make sure you’re simply irresistible for this evening.”
Oh no … this sounds like it will be time consuming, humiliating, and painful.
No, Ana, that’s you now.
Kate shows Ana how to shave, pluck her eyebrows and buff herself all over, in preparation for her date with Christian that evening.
…she assures me that this is what men expect these days.
Oh come on, even you can’t have thought that men like bushy underarms and legs you can comb?
Christian … clasps my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that echoes through my body.
Implying you are hollow.
…we head into the building, straight to a set of elevators. Elevator!
Free association with Anastasia Steele. Elevator. Snogging!
He leads me to a small office where an old-timer sits behind his desk.
Where are the blonde women now? The person in control of the helicopter is old and male. I am surprised.
They get on board Christian’s helicopter to go to Seattle. He straps Ana in tightly.
“I like this harness,” he whispers.
Oh Ana, you are woefully under-prepared.
“You’re safe with me.” He gives me a wolfish grin. “Well, while we’re flying.”
As subtle as a brick to the face.
It’s pitch black … How can he see where we’re going?
It’s amazing that Ana’s incredible density still manages to baffle me every time.
[Grey speaks], interrupting my erotic reverie. … I wasn’t thinking about sex at all, no, no way.
Yes you were, you called it an ‘erotic reverie’. Please just admit that you are human and think about sex.
“I’ve never brought another girl up here, Anastasia. It’s another first for me.”
Another first? Oh, the sleeping thing, perhaps?
Yes, obviously. Keep up with the rest of us.
I nod. “You’re just so … competent.”
With compliments like that, I wonder how he manages to keep his hands off her.
“Gliders and helicopters – I fly them both.”
“Oh.” Expensive hobbies.
He’s a billionaire. It’s doubtful he whiles away a Sunday afternoon playing solitaire.
…up ahead I can see a tall skyscraper with a helipad on top. … It’s getting nearer and nearer, bigger and bigger … like my anxiety.
Like his PENIS. What? We’re all thinking it.
He drags me over to an elevator … It’s warm inside and all mirrored glass. I can see Christian to infinity everywhere I look, and the wonderful thing is he’s holding me to infinity, too.
Ah, the soul of a poet dwells in this deep and complex woman.
They enter Grey’s domain: it’s the most clichéd bachelor pad in history, complete with stainless steel fireplace. Whatever next? Some sort of room dedicated to sex toys? Pfft.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks.
After last night! Is he trying to be funny.
No, it’s a thing normal people say when they have guests. I wouldn’t expect you to get that, though, given that even the clearest statement soars over your head.
“It’s a very big place you have here.”
“It’s big,” he agrees.
And the award for ‘Most Scintillating Dialogue Ever Written’ goes to … anybody else.
Grey goes off to fetch a ‘nondisclosure agreement’. If she signs, it will mean she cannot divulge anything about what happens between them. She signs without reading it, because she’s an idiot.
“Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?”
Blimey, Ana seems to have suddenly got some balls. Just when she’s about to get some balls.
“No, Anastasia, it doesn’t. First, I don’t make love. I fuck … hard.”
It’s Anastasia. You’ll have to speak a little more C.L.E.A.R.L.Y.
“I want to show you my playroom.”
“You want to play on your Xbox?” I ask.
See what I mean?
Taking a deep breath I walk in. And it feels like I’ve time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.
This is what is known in the business as a ‘cliffhanger’. As far as Seattle-based stories go, I’d rather be watching Frasier.
Read Chapter Seven.