Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Ismile,andhislipstwitch.

           Theelevatorarrives,andwestepin.We’realone.Suddenly,forsomeinexplicablereason,possiblyourproximityinsuchanenclosedspace,theatmospherebetweenuschanges,chargedwithanelectric,exhilaratinganticipation.Mybreathingaltersasmyheartraces.Hisheadturnsfractionallytowardme,hiseyesdarkestslate.Ibitemylip.

           “Oh,fuckthepaperwork,”hegrowls.Helungesatme,pushingmeagainstthewalloftheelevator.BeforeIknowit,he’sgotbothofmyhandsinoneofhisinaviselikegripabovemyhead,andhe’spinningmetothewallusinghiships.Holyshit.Hisotherhandgrabsmyhairandyanksdown,bringingmyfaceup,andhislipsareonmine.It’sonlyjustnotpainful.Imoanintohismouth,givinghistongueanopening.Hetakesfulladvantage,histongueexpertlyexploringmymouth.Ihaveneverbeenkissedlikethis.Mytonguetentativelystrokeshisandjoinshisinaslow,eroticdancethat’sallabouttouchandsensation,allbumpandgrind.Hebringshishanduptograspmychinandholdsmeinplace.I’mhelpless,myhandspinned,myfaceheld,andhishipsrestrainingme.Hiserectionisagainstmybelly.Ohmy…Hewantsme.ChristianGrey,Greekgod,wantsme,andIwanthim,here…now,intheelevator.

           “You.Are.So.Sweet,”hemurmurs,eachwordastaccato.

           Theelevatorstops,thedoorsopen,andhepushesawayfrommeintheblinkofaneye,leavingmehanging.Threemeninbusinesssuitslookatbothofusandsmirkastheyclimbonboard.Myheartrateisthroughtheroof,IfeellikeI’verunanuphillrace