Same old, same old, just on a boat. Honestly, that’s all I have to say.
50 Shades Darker
Lord, his eyes are an amazing colour.
They’re grey. His eyes are grey. Like my soul.
“You are master of my heart, Mr. Grey.” And my body … and my soul.
Yes, yes, you’re utterly devoted. Yadda yadda.
…he gets up and leaves me to my scattered thoughts.
When I surface on deck, Mac is back on board.
Wait, WHAT? You’ve skipped ahead! What about your shower? Did you get dressed? If so, what exactly are you wearing? I am adrift in an unknown ocean because you haven’t furnished me with every detail! Wah!
Christian is on his BlackBerry.
“Yeah … Really? The fire escape stairwell?”
“Hello? What’s that? I left my keys on the kitchen table and I should come and collect them before you leave because otherwise I won’t be able to get back in? It sure is lucky I repeated all that information, in case anybody listening doesn’t understand what I’m talking about!”
He’s given me a more thorough tour of this beautiful boat, explaining all the innovative designs and techniques.
Ah yes, those good old boat techniques. I have a few myself.
And, of course, he’s made sweet, unhurried love to me.
You know the structure ‘write what you will do, then do it, then write about what you did’ doesn’t apply to fiction, right?
He is an exceptional lover, I’m sure – though, of course, I have no comparison.
Right, you have no access to any frame of reference about whether your sex with Christian is, comparatively, good or bad. It’s not like anybody else has ever written, drawn, sung or talked about that subject. Ever.
“I’d love [to go out on the boat again]. We can christen the bedroom again and again.”
Impossible. You christen something once, THE FIRST TIME.
…he whispers, making every single hair follicle on my body stand to attention.
Also impossible. The follicle is the sheath of cells at the base of a hair. Not the hair itself.
They have another bullshit conversation along the lines of : ‘Oooh, you turn me on.’ ‘You too, baby.’ ‘You love it, don’t you.’ ‘Yes, baby, I do.’ ‘I always want you.’ ‘You have no idea how much I want you.’ The kind of non-conversation that’s clearly just in here for padding.
[Mac] must know what Christian and I were up to on the boat while he went ashore.
Yes, probably, and I’ll bet he doesn’t give a flying fuck. Or a sailing one.
Next to SP’s…
I don’t know what that is.
…is a small Italian bistro called Bee’s.
Oh, goody! Another restaurant scene! I can’t wait to see if literally ANYTHING happens here.
“You look lovely, Anastasia.”
Well, nothing so far.
“You don’t seem to have many friends. Why is that?”
Hmm, this question is definitely worthy of having an entire change of scene built around it.
“I’ve been working, building up the business. That’s all I do – except sail and fly occasionally.”
Huh, fair enough. Let’s all go home then.
“I’m going for the risotto.”
Back in comfortable padding territory.
Then they have a conversation about something they’ve NEVER TALKED ABOUT BEFORE. Ha! Not really. She’s worried she’s not enough for him. He says she is. She doesn’t believe him. He gives her more detail. She is pleasantly surprised by his sincerity. For the third time.
“So you don’t want to take me into your playroom?”
“No, I don’t.”
And yes, there it is – that little pinch of disappointment.
For FUCK’S sake! Will you make up your mind already?
“We have to walk before we can run.”
At least reword the cliché. Like we have to fuck before we can spank, or SOMETHING.
The waiter arrives with our starters and bruschetta.
BUT I THOUGHT YOU ORDERED RISOTTO WHAT IS GOING ON.
Christian drives us back to Escala.
Next time they walk into a restaurant, I’ll skip the scene entirely. Chances are I’ll miss NOTHING.
It allows me a peaceful interlude in which to think. I have had a mind-blowing day: Dr. Greene; our shower; Christian’s admission; making love at the hotel and on the boat; buying the car.
And, finally, listing everything you’ve done.
It strikes me then that he never really had an adolescence – a normal one, anyway.
We KNOW! We BLOODY know! Please, please stop recapping!
My mind drifts back to the ball…
For the love of God, we were there! Stop!
He thinks I might leave if I know him.
He thinks that I might leave if he’s himself.
We are mercifully returned to the present. They’re back at the parking garage and Ana’s wrecked Audi is gone. Sawyer, the bodyguard or something, tells Christian that NOTHING has changed. Given that, so far, nothing at all has happened in this chapter, I’m not surprised.
Christian pouting is … hot.
Let’s face it, you probably think Christian taking a shit is hot.
I raise my lips to meet his … his hands framing my face, holding me to his lips as our tongues thrash against each other.
Like two dying sea lions.
“Whoa,” he murmurs panting.
“Whoa,” I mirror him.
Poetry! High art! Forget Keats and Shakespeare. THIS is the language of love.
They meet Taylor. Ana has a slightly flirty exchange with him, the sort of thing you skip over because it’s probably just a bit of extra chat and doesn’t matter. Then Christian gets moody. Then Ana apologises to Taylor. Then Christian takes her aside and tells her not to flirt. Then they’re talking about their relationship again. Ignore mundane details in this book at your peril, because EL James ain’t afraid to dedicate ten pages of pointless dialogue to them.
I head upstairs to my room … the iPad is gone. Where’s my Mac? Oh no. My first uncharitable thought is that Leila may have stolen them.
Uncharitable? She’s armed, dangerous and stalking you, and thinking badly of her is uncharitable?!
I fly back downstairs and back into Christian’s bedroom. On the bedside table are my Mac, my iPad and my backpack.
Now I have to come down from that moment of sheer excitement. Give me a few minutes.
“I want you to share my room,” he murmurs.
Whoa, quick change of direction.
Hmm, not really though, is it?
“I was just getting my clothes ready for work tomorrow,” I mutter.
“But Leila – she’s out there. I don’t want you to go to work.”
Well, you can suck it, male stereotype.
What does he mean?
I think he means, don’t go to work.
“Do you think I am going to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you’re off being Master of the Universe?”
“Frankly … yes.”
Frankly, get knotted.
“No, you don’t need to work for a living.”
Holy shit. This scene HAS TO end with her dumping him.
He says Sawyer has to go to work with her OR HE’LL KEEP HER IN THE APARTMENT. She concedes, CONCEDES to this MEDIEVAL BULLSHIT. Then he gives her a tour of the place and they decide to have a game of pool, as if he hasn’t just threatened to lock her up.
“If I win, you’ll take me back into the playroom.”
He gazes at me as if he can’t quite comprehend what I’ve said.
That’s because you’re SCREWING WITH HIS HEAD.
I stalk around the table, bending low at every available opportunity – giving Christian an eyeful of my behind and my cleavage.
There’s a lot more of this ‘sexy billiards’ description. Just thought I’d give you a taste of how dull it is.
“If I win … I am going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table.”
He bends to take the shot.
Aaaaand, end of chapter.
- gildius -
Read Chapter Eleven.