Updated on May 24, 2015
50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Thirteen
Having had a break from googling BDSM, to have kinky ice cube sex with Christian Grey, Ana is finally getting down to the business of deciding what to do about this contract. Pesky paperwork certainly has a habit of piling up, doesn’t it? Especially sex paperwork. That’s the worst.
50 Shades of Grey
I’m restless, nervous about my showdown with Mr. Control Freak tomorrow…
You’ll probably just fall into bed with him again. Multiple orgasms? My, what a terrifying prospect.
My mom is … desperately sorry not to make my graduation. Bob has twisted some ligament…
And so your MOTHER can’t make your GRADUATION? Put him on the toilet, surround him with food, and damn well turn up.
I switch the mean machine on and fire up the e-mail program.
She keeps saying ‘fire up’, like opening Hotmail is some massively complex and exciting process, rather than just pointing and clicking.
Christian has emailed her the definition of ‘submissive’, because she seems to think that she can adapt the Submissive’s contract to exclude all acts of submission. She replies with the definition of ‘compromise’, arguing that they are living in the 21st century. I will reiterate my point: if you don’t want to be a Submissive, DO NOT SIGN THE CONTRACT. It really is that simple.
Paul [her boss’ son] follows me around the store all day asking me for a date.
“I have a date this evening … Christian Grey.”
… he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph, even his name renders people speechless.
No, the idea that such a man would date you renders people speechless.
…a very small part of me resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does, too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers.
There’s plenty of this inner goddess shit, which I largely ignore, but just occasionally it’s so comically terrible I have to highlight it.
Kate has lent me two dresses … for tonight and graduation tomorrow.
Do you have NOTHING you can wear for your own graduation?
…clothes are just not my thing.
Unless you walk around nude (which could explain Christian’s interest) clothes are your thing. Good clothes may not be, but clothes certainly are.
I rarely wear makeup – it intimidates me.
I know how you feel. I have a really bitchy mascara that makes me afraid to go into the bathroom.
Having gotten ready for her contract-negotiating date by dressing up in a fashion that is entirely alien to her (ie: a dress and heels), she meets Christian at his hotel. Her determined attempt to appear independent by driving there herself, is ruined when she says she’ll drink whatever he’s having.
“Anastasia, it doesn’t matter if it’s legal or not. If you don’t like it, then don’t sign. If you do sign and then decide you don’t like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away.”
I hate to admit that any of the characters in this book are capable of speaking sense, but well done Christian.
“We can eat down here or in my suite.”
“I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground.”
“Do you think that would stop me?” he says softly.
From jumping her? I should hope so.
…the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet.
[a] is all [x], [y] and [z]. Such an ugly descriptive technique.
“Don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.
I frown. Damn it. I don’t even know I’m doing it.
Yes, but we do, because you or Christian mentions it EVERY TIME it happens. You may as well start adding, “I inhaled, I exhaled, I inhaled again” for a little more narrative originality.
“I’ve ordered already.”
Frankly, I’m relieved. I’m not sure I can make any further decisions.
I sympathise. Once I had to decide whether to wear black or blue socks. It was frankly exhausting.
Christian Grey does wine well.
Anastasia Steele does whine well. Pun. Ha.
“I hope you like oysters … All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that.” He gazes at me, and I know what he’s referring to.
Thank you for pointing out the double entendre. It would have gone right over my head.
I reach across and pick up my first-ever oyster.
How-about you concentrate on-learning not to-gratuitously hyphenate?
“You’ve said that you hurt someone before.”
“Yes, I have. … I suspended her from my playroom ceiling … One of the ropes was tied too tightly.”
She’s dead now. But don’t let that bother you. It almost certainly won’t happen again.
They start going through all the details of the contract – somehow they manage to make even a sex contract boring. She agrees to three months and says she will ‘try’ to obey him. He gives in about dictating her eating and sleeping patterns.
“And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you … I will fuck you, any time, any way I want – anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me.”
Oh stop waffling and do it already. I had to wait until chapter eight for any sex at all. Now it’s chapter THIRTEEN and they’re still CHATTING.
“Would you like some more wine?”
“I have to drive.”
“Some water then?”
“Still or sparkling?”
The waiter leaves.
EL James, remember editing is a thing. Try: “I refuse the offer of more wine – I still have to drive – and order some water instead.” Notice how this shortened sentence doesn’t sap your reader’s will to live.
“I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. Do you trust me Ana?”
“Yes, I do.”
This two sentence exchange is what this entire bullshit-fest of a chapter boils down to. And yet, it’s still not over.
I read: Anal. Sorry, it’s a bit dark in here.
“You could be dessert,” he murmurs suggestively.
How can he seduce me solely with his voice?
That’s what dirty talk is.
My inexperience is an albatross around my neck. Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.
Oh you sexy asparagus eater, you.
Our meeting will only end one way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense conversation.
Could it be she’s actually going to leave without having sex with him?
“But quite frankly, Anastasia, I’m not sure you have a submissive bone in your delectable body.”
This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no.
We’re 43% in. Unless you have a supremely interesting graduation ceremony, you’re going to say yes.
When Christian sees her car his mouth drops open and he starts muttering about buying her a new one. Still, she manages to get herself behind the wheel and drive away, because she ‘wants space to think’ or something. She cries and ponders all the way home. It’s insufferable to read.
I think of all the times he warned me to stay away. Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.
I’m a vampire.
This is all I know.
This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course.
Excuse me whilst I vomit into my shoes.
Read Chapter Fourteen.