Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Irollmyeyesinanexaggeratedfashion,knowingfullwellhecan’tseeme.Car,phone,computer…clothes,it’llbeadamncondonext,andthenIreallywillbehismistress.

           Ho!Mysubconscioushashersnarkyfaceon.Iignoreherandmakemywayupstairstowardmyroom.So,itisstillmine…why?Ithoughthe’dagreedtoletmesleepwithhim.Isupposehe’snotusedtosharinghispersonalspace,butthen,neitheramI.IconsolemyselfwiththethoughtthatatleastIhavesomewheretoescapefromhim.

           Examiningthedoor,Ifindthatithasalockbutnokey.IwonderbrieflyifMrs.Joneshasaspare.I’llaskher.Iopentheclosetdoorandcloseitagainquickly.Holycrap—he’sspentafortune.ItresemblesKate’s—somanyclotheshangingneatlyontherail.Deepdown,Iknowthatthey’llallfit.ButIhavenotimetothinkaboutthat—IhavetogetkneelingintheRedRoomof…Pain…orPleasure,hopefully—thisevening.

           KNEELINGBYTHEDOOR,Iamnakedexceptformypanties.Myheartisinmymouth.Jeez,Ithoughtafterthebathroomhewouldhavehadenough.Themanisinsatiable,ormaybeallmenarelikehim.Ihavenoidea,noonetocomparehimto.Closingmyeyes,Itrytocalmmyselfdown,toconnectwithmyinnersub.She’stheresomewhere,hidingbehindmyinnergoddess.

           Anticipationrunsbubblinglikesodathroughmyveins.Whatwillhedo?Itakeadeep,steadyingbreath,butIcannotdenyit,I’mexcited,aroused,wetalready.Thisisso…Iwanttothinkwrong,butsomehowit’snot.It’srightforChristian.