Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           ”Heeyesmespeculativelyforamoment,thenleavestheroom.

           Holyshit.Christian’smother.ThisissomuchmorethanIbargainedfor.Perhapsmeetingherwillhelpputalittlepartofthejigsawinplace.MighthelpmeunderstandwhyChristianisthewayheis…Suddenly,Iwanttomeether.Ipickupmyshirtoffthefloor,andI’mpleasedtodiscoverthatithassurvivedthenightwellwithhardlyanycreases.Ifindmybluebraunderthebedanddressquickly.Butifthere’sonethingIhate,it’snotwearingcleanpanties.IriflethroughChristian’schestofdrawersandcomeacrosshisboxerbriefs.AfterpullingonapairoftightgrayCalvinKleins,ItugonmyjeansandmyConverse.

           Grabbingmyjacket,Idashintothebathroomandstareatmytoo-brighteyes,myflushedface—andmyhair!Holycrap…just-fuckedpigtailsdonotsuitme,either.Ihuntinthevanityunitforabrushandfindacomb.Itwillhavetodo.IquicklytiebackmyhairwhileIdespairatmyclothes.MaybeIshouldtakeChristianuponhisofferofclothes.Mysubconsciouspursesherlipsandmouthstheword“ho.”Iignoreher.Strugglingintomyjacket,pleasedthatthecuffscoverthetelltalepatternsfromhistie,Itakealastanxiousglanceatmyselfinthemirror.Thiswillhavetodo.Imakemywayintothemainlivingroom.

           “Heresheis.”Christianstandsfromwherehe’sloungingonthecouch.

           Hisexpressioniswarmandappreciative.Thesandy-hairedwomanbesidehimturnsandbeamsatme,afullmegawattsmile.Shestands,too.