Updated on May 24, 2015
50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Ten
I was in Waterstones the other day and there was Fifty Shades, displayed on a table. Still. I picked it up and flicked to chapter ten, seeing for the first time how far I am in an actual, physical copy of the book. Suffice it to say the sight was not a happy one. So let’s crack on with this shit.
You may remember Christian’s mother has suddenly turned up and is standing outside his bedroom, where he is in flagrante delicto with Ana.
50 Shades of Grey
I have no clean clothes, and she’s practically walked in on us in flagrante delicto.
Oh crap, I thought I was being all intelligent and stuff when I used that phrase, and here it is not one page into the chapter. Whoever says ‘great minds’ will not live to see another dawn.
He’s slipped on a white T-shirt and runs his hand through his just-fucked hair.
OK, now this description is more than simply repetitive. It sounds as though you have fucked his hair.
Christian goes out to say hello to his mum. Ana dresses quickly, moans about her ‘just-fucked pigtails’ (seriously, stop), and goes to the living room where She is waiting.
She looks groomed, elegant, beautiful, and inside I die a little, knowing I look such a mess.
You were considering wearing Christian’s clothes because yours might be a bit wrinkled, so I think you’ve done well for yourself. Especially given that you’re almost entirely incapable of dressing yourself at the best of times.
If I’m not mistaken there is wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice…
Wonder? At meeting you? Don’t flatter yourself.
“Anastasia interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I’m conferring degrees there this week.”
Double crap. I’d forgotten that.
Woah, woah, woah. I don’t remember this detail ever being mentioned before. Either EL James had forgotten about it until now, or she’s let me down by not repeating this fact ad infinitum, like she does all the others.
He kisses her briefly, sweetly. She doesn’t touch him.
Reader, upon reading this sentence, allow me to beat you over the head with a marble bust of Freud, whilst screaming “MOTHER ISSUES” into your ear.
Christian starts acting all funny (boo hoo). He gives Ana the contract and tells her to think about it, and do some research on the internet so she’s not entirely clueless about what’s involved.
Internet! I don’t have access to a computer…
Jesus, she’s a twenty-something college student who doesn’t have a computer? This is probably the least believable facet of her character so far. And this is a girl with an inner goddess that does the merengue.
“I’ll just make a call,” I murmur.
“The photographer?” His jaw clenches and his eyes burn.
I yearn for someone to be so protective of me that their eyeballs melt in their sockets.
He’s wearing a black leather jacket. He certainly doesn’t look like the multi-multimillionaire, billionaire, whatever-aire, in these clothes.
Perhaps he would look more like a whatever-aire if his jacket were made of spun gold and adorned with the teeth of virgins?
I sigh inwardly…
…and ten minutes later it comes out as a fart. Oops.
…his exceptional sex habits, or perhaps sex is like that for everyone. … I have no comparison, and I can’t ask Kate.
“Hey Kate, is sex really good?”
“No, it’s always terrible. There’s no reason to do it whatsoever. I honestly don’t know why all of humanity bothers.”
Ask a stupid question.
Christian allows Ana to talk to Kate, her best friend, about sex. That’s big of him.
He moves around the car with easy grace, and folds his long frame elegantly in beside me. How does he do that?
Do what? Sit down? It’s really quite simple.
With the flick of a switch, Bruce Springsteen surrounds us.
I would like a button like this, but with David Tennant.
The restaurant is small and intimate. The waitress … flushes when she sees Christian, avoiding eye contact … She likes him! It’s not just me!
You didn’t think he was a virgin too, did you? Oh wait, yes you did, because you’re a fool.
“You know, Anastasia, it’s been a weekend of firsts for me, too … I’ve never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother.”
Never met someone who DOESN’T HAVE ACCESS TO THE INTERNET.
“What’s vanilla sex?”
“Just straightforward sex … No toys, no add-ons.”
I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on top.
Really? I thought it was more pistachio and hazelnut sex, with a side helping of whipped cream and a touch of citrus. But that’s just me.
Christian begins to explain his earlier comment, that he’s never had vanilla sex before Ana.
“One of my mother’s friends seduced me when I was fifteen … I was her submissive for six years.”
Oh the scandal. I can hardly contain myself.
…even my subconscious is silent.
Yet this does not stop you wittering on about the shock and your need to process your emotions, for the next few paragraphs. By this point I’m skim-reading.
I stare at him. This man – sexually abused as an adolescent…
Some sort of excuse was needed, so naturally a taste for BDSM is swept under the carpet as something victims of abuse do.
“I am monogamous in my relationships.”
Oh … this is news.
Yes, and this is a sentence.
My stomach is churning with all this new information.
Traditionally information is kept in the brain, but Ana’s so quirky and off the wall I guess she doesn’t play by those rules.
Christian drops Ana off at her inexplicably internet-less home. She gets all emotional at the thought of leaving him. Inside, Kate is packing for the end of the academic year and their imminent house move.
Crap … I have to deal with Kate’s persistence and tenacity…
Once again Ana’s friend has the gall to give a shit.
“Did he make you come?”
Holy crap. She’s so blunt. I go scarlet.
Get over it, for God’s sake.
“Elliot said it’s very unusual for Christian to date anyone.”
“Did he?” My voice hitches up several octaves.
Too obvious, Steele! My subconscious glares at me … then morphs into the scales of justice…
I feel like I’ve slipped into that trippy cartoon elephant scene in ‘Dumbo’.
“Tell me about Elliot,” I ask…
Kate blushes. On my … Katherine Agnes Kavanagh goes all Anastasia Rose Steele on me.
Dear God, no. The last thing we need is two of them.
Moving. Crap – I’d forgotten all about that, even with the packing cases surrounding us.
God, what’s she like! She’ll forget to breathe next. I hope.
Ana says she’s going to give Christian back the über-expensive books he gave her, and Kate reveals that José has been calling every hour on the hour. Ana opens some letters and discovers she has two intern placements at Seattle publishing houses. José calls again and effectively calls Ana a money-grabbing whore. Thus actual plot development is swept over briefly, and we return to Ana’s insipid stream of consciousness.
Burning a bright red hole in the side of my purse is that contract. Do I have the strength and the wherewithal to read it tonight?
Why are you suddenly using words like ‘wherewithal’? I am unused to such language issuing forth from your lips, when the majority of your locution involves the term ‘double crap’.
Do I really want to know the extent of Christian’s depravity? … I take a deep breath, and with my heart in my throat, I rip open the envelope.
We’ll have to wait until the next chapter to read the contract. Try not to bite off your fingernails in the meantime.
Read Chapter Eleven.