Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Christian bursts into the boathouse and turns all the lights on. “Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building,” Ana notices. Christian proceeds to carry Ana upstairs, flicking on more lights, ‘halogens this time’. These descriptive skills could do with some work; how many times have you heard of someone walking into a room and the first thing they notice is the potential energy-saving credentials of the light bulbs?

As Christian sets her down, Ana looks at him and notices that he looks like a ‘rare and dangerous predator’ – what, you mean like a vampire? FANFICTION REFERENCE ALERT.

“Please don’t hit me,” Ana pleads. If this is something you routinely say to your other half, please, I beg you, reconsider your relationship. Ana seems to have confused Christian with this request, and while she has him stunned, she starts stroking his stubbly face. Christian seems to enjoy it, and Ana feels brave, so she starts to kiss him. “He tastes divine,” she tells us. I’m quite sure that he doesn’t, he’s just eaten a whole roast dinner and necked some red wine, which can make for stale breath at the best of times.

Christian asks her why she’s kissing him, and seems genuinely confused by it. Apparently the fact that she didn’t want him to grope her at his parents’ dining table led him to believe that she never wanted to have sex with him ever again. Why is everything so dramatic in this book?! No sane person would think this. A sane person would probably just accept the fact that his girlfriend probably didn’t want to engage in sexual activity whilst in the middle of a meal with her new in-laws.

“No one’s ever said no to me before. And it’s so – hot.” Of course Christian would find it a turn-on that someone has said no to him. Why don’t more people understand that this man has seriously abusive tendencies?!

Christian goes on to say that he’s mad at her for a whole load of things (none of which are actually worthy of anger whatsoever); he’s angry that she didn’t tell him that she was going to visit her mum, he’s angry because she went for a drink with her friend and didn’t tell him, and he’s angry because she didn’t let him feel her up at the dinner table.

Bye.

“If you’re not going to let me spank you – which you deserve – I’m going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours,” he says. Maybe it’s just me, but I always thought that sex was supposed to be a shared experience, causing pleasure for both parties involved. Obviously I’m wrong about that. “He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex.” If you’re going to write a grown-up story, please use the grown-up words. “This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” Oh, lovely. Just lovely. This really is the romance of the century.

“We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand? Don’t come, or I will spank you,” says Christian. Yep, I can definitely see why this fictional character would have women queuing up outside his door. Sounds like a right treat.

There’s yet another paragraph voted to Christian tearing open a foil packet and putting a condom on, as though it needs a thorough explanation every time.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Christian says when he’s finished. “I want you frustrated. That’s what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what’s mine.” What’s yours? Tell me, ladies: would it turn you on if a man told you that he had claimed your vagina and it was now his? My vagina is mine, thank you very much.

Christian stands up, takes off his condom, ties a knot in the end of it and puts it in his pocket. So just bear in mind, the next time there’s a mention of smouldering grey eyes or his sexy jawline, that there will be a half-full sack of semen squashed into the pocket of his jeans for the remainder of this chapter. Remember when Christian came to visit Ana and threw his used condom on the floor? Doesn’t anyone in this book own a bin? Has Christian forgotten that they’re in a boathouse and he could quite easily just chuck it in the grass and hope that one of his family’s gardeners finds it? Does his really have to carry his own spunk around in his pocket?!

It seems that Christian has stowed his love-juice just in time; minutes later, Mia appears on the lower floor of the boathouse. “CHRISTIAN!” she yells. Jesus, she’s annoying. She’s come to tell them that Kate and Elliot are leaving so they should all say goodbye. “What have you two been doing in here?” she asks, her eyes narrowing. What a dim girl. She should check Christian’s pockets if she really wants to know the answer to that.

They go back into the house and say goodbye to Kate and Elliot. Ana wants to know why Kate kept antagonising Christian. “He needs antagonising, then you can see what he’s really like,” Kate says. I don’t approve of her methods but I agree with her point. “I KNOW WHAT HE’S REALLY LIKE – YOU DON’T!” Ana screams in her head, in caps.

Christian says that they’d better head off because Ana has her interviews tomorrow (oh right! Those interviews!) and there’s a whole sickening goodbye sequence where his parents gush over Ana and say how pleased they are that Christian has finally found someone. Vomit.

They get into the Audi and Taylor, who has been waiting for them outside the whole time, drives them home. During the journey, Ana has another mood swing and completely convinces herself that Christian never really wanted her at the dinner, and that he only invited her because he had to. Readers, does Christian Grey strike you as a man who would do something because he felt like he had to? No, me neither. But Ana, who proclaimed (in all caps) to know this man very well mere paragraphs earlier, thinks he would.

“Why are you so filled with self-doubt? It never ceases to amaze me,” says Christian. “You’re such a strong, self-contained young woman, but you have such negative thoughts about yourself.” Haha, really? Turns out that Christian doesn’t know Ana that well either.

At this point, Christian asks whether he can come with Ana to see her mother in Georgia. This would be a great point for me to stop and just reiterate that these two have known each other for less than a month and have been seeing each other for around two weeks. Fourteen days.

What follows is the most mindless conversation I’ve ever seen published. It goes like this:

C: “Are you laughing at me, Miss Steele?”

A: “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Grey.”

C: “I think you dare, and I think you do laugh at me, frequently.”

A: “You are quite funny.”

C: “Funny?”

A: “Oh yes.”

C: “Funny peculiar or funny ha ha?”

A: “Oh… a lot of one and some of the other.”

C: “Which way round?”

A: “I’ll leave you to figure that out.”

What are they even talking about?! The most amazing books are the ones where not a single word is wasted; every syllable is laden with meaning, and contributes to the story or to some form of character development. And then you get these two fucking nits taking up an entire page with this nonsense, saying everything and yet saying absolutely nothing at all of worth.

Me reading this book.

Talk turns to Ana still wanting ‘more’ from this relationship. More than him taking her on a helicopter tour of Seattle at night, more than him doing things he’s never done for any woman before, more than meeting his family within two weeks. How much more is there?! She contemplates the fact that she loves him, but his mood swings and ‘scary vices’ put her off.

“This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero – a brave shining white knight, or the dark knight as he said. He’s not a hero, he’s a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he’s dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light?” Ana, if you’re so intent on changing him, you don’t love Christian, you obviously love the idea of what Christian could be. Important difference.

Ana, who didn’t want Christian to touch her leg at the dinner table, clearly has no problem with climbing all over him while Taylor is up front in the driving seat. She unbuckles her seat belt and throws herself at him, promising to sign his stupid contract in a spur of the moment decision after a few glasses of wine. Wise.

When they get back to Christian’s apartment, it becomes increasingly obvious that they’re going to have sex again. So far in this one day, that’s a few times in the Womb Room, once in the boathouse and now again at the apartment. Four or five times in a day. Is this normal? No, I’m genuinely asking, because if it is, I’ve been getting conned my whole life.

Ana says that she doesn’t want to fuck. She wants to make love. Doesn’t she remember what Christian said, when he was wearing his sexy ripped jeans?

I don't make love. I fuck, hard.

Christian is absolutely bewildered by this suggestion. Things start to turn sour: Christian literally says no to making love, and says that Ana touching him, especially on his chest, is a hard limit. Ana nags him a little, but he throws her a t-shirt and tells her to get into bed. There’s a little interlude where they go and brush their teeth and don’t talk about anything much. It’s really pointless, as is much of this book.

Ana asks how Christian would feel if the tables were turned and he couldn’t touch her. It’s a fair point, but she’s setting herself up for something dangerous by questioning his hard limits. Surely he doesn’t have to give reasons for them? That’s the point of a hard limit – you don’t need to justify it. Does she need a reason why she doesn’t want to try anal fisting? No, of course not. She should just accept that it’s a hard limit for him and if she doesn’t like it, she knows where the door is. God, it’s so hard to decide whose side I’m on in this book. I think I’m actually on my own side, the side of sanity, the side of good literature and humanity in general.

Ana, in a moment of pure genius, tells Christian that if he tells her why touching him is a hard limit, she’ll let him spank her again. What a great bargain. This will end well. Who’s using sex as a weapon now?

Christian goes and retrieves some Ben Wa balls, which he wants to put inside her while he spanks her. Again, this is a girl who lost her virginity not two weeks ago. Has the man got no concept of taking things slowly? He tells her to put them in her mouth, then has her bend over while he puts them inside her.

He tells her to go and get a drink of water from the kitchen and, naturally, by the time she comes back, she’s ‘needy, needy for sex’. There’s something new, I don’t think we’ve seen ‘needy’ Ana yet. She returns with her water and notices that ‘there’s a foil packet, ready and waiting, like me’. Did Ana just liken herself to a condom packet? Will we ever find out whether Christian got rid of that condom that was in his pocket? Is it still there? Does his maid deal with that kind of thing? I can’t stop thinking about it, this condom side-plot is more riveting than the actual story.

He spanks her while she has the balls inside her. It’s actually exceedingly vanilla. Nothing too hard, not even any naughty words. Ana says that she’s lost in a ‘quagmire’ of sensation.

This is a quagmire. Looks like fun.

He pulls the balls out after a few minutes and they have sex. It’s boring, to be honest. Nothing we haven’t read before, and a completely superfluous, unnecessary scene. A desperate attempt to shoehorn a bit more sex into this chapter.

Just as they’re falling asleep, Christian follows through on his promise to tell Ana about why touching is a hard limit. “The woman who brought me into this world was a crack-whore, Anastasia. Go to sleep,” he says. Okay, cool, good chatting with you, goodnight.

Orgasm count: one for Ana, two for Christian.

TBC!

This chapter was boring as hell to read, and to write, so I tried to liven it up with some funny pictures. That's what I've resorted to. It's not even funny anymore, it's just tragic.

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Ana wakes up to Christian saying that they have to leave in half an hour to get to his parents’ dinner party. This might just be me, but if my significant other woke me up with thirty minutes remaining until I had to be ready for an important dinner party, that would be the end of the relationship.

He says he’s ‘bought’ her a drink (I’m assuming the author means ‘brought’, unless he actually went out and purchased one for her) and that if she doesn’t get out of bed, she’ll be in trouble.

Ana notices that Christian has hung up her dress. The author can’t actually mention this dress without reiterating that it’s Kate’s plum dress, because nothing Ana owns could ever be considered attractive or remotely provocative, so we’re reminded that it’s Kate’s dress. Got that? Kate’s dress, Kate’s plum dress. Don’t forget. Kate’s.

Ana realises that Christian also still has her knickers in his pocket, that filth-bag. “I flush at the memory, after he, I can’t even bring myself to think about it, he was so – barbarous.”  For the love of god, please research the correct way to use a comma to ensure that your sentences actually make sense.

She showers and realises that Christian has done this on purpose to embarrass her into asking for her underwear back. Ana resolves not to ask him, and instead meet his parents ‘sans culottes’. Honestly, three weeks ago she’d never held hands with a man and now he’s going to meet his mum and dad with a distinctly cool breeze blowing around her private parts. She’s a bona fide harlot.

She steps back into the bedroom and puts on her dress (Kate’s dress, don’t forget, the plum dress that belongs to Kate) and glances down at the drink Christian has left her. “It’s pale pink. What’s this? Cranberry and sparkling water. Hmm… it tastes delicious and quenches my thirst.” I think I could sum up everything I hate about this novel just with this extract. Unless the fact that he’s mixed cranberry and sparkling water is an important plot point, I don’t see the reason to give it a whole paragraph. Why is it so important that she tells us this information? What’s wrong with saying she took a sip of the drink that Christian left her? This is exactly what is bad about fan-fiction writing; the author thinks we need to know every single insignificant detail, and I would put money on cranberry and sparkling water actually being E. L. James’ favourite drink because this novel is essentially her own mid-life crisis (and frankly quite vanilla sexual fantasies) in literature form. Whew. Okay, back to the book.

When Ana heads back downstairs, Christian is standing by the window wearing the grey flannel pants that ‘hang in that unbelievably sexy way off his hips’. This phrase always just makes me think of those teenage boys who wear their waistbands around their thighs and consider it to be terribly cutting-edge, not realising that the trend started out in prisons because inmates weren’t permitted to wear belts as they were prime suicide instruments. Urban myths also state that inmates who wore their trousers below their bum cheeks were making a statement of ‘availability’, if you know what I mean. Read into that what you will.

Anyway, Christian’s wearing his pants sagging over his arse, and listening to Frank Sinatra. Ana says hello to him and her ‘sphinx-like smile greets his’. We’ve been through this – I can’t stop picturing the cat from Friends which looks like it’s survived a few minutes in a microwave.

Christian asks Ana to dance to Sinatra with him. I couldn’t possibly cringe any more than I am right now. I hoped it would be a sedate prom-style swaying, for a verse and a chorus, max. But Christian is (of course) a capable dancer and proceeds to swing her around the whole room. “We cover the floor, from the window to the kitchen and back again… We glide around the dining table, over to the piano, and backwards and forward in front of the glass wall.” It sounds like circuit training to me. “Then we waltzed down the side of the building, tap-danced across the foyer and did the lindy-hop in the elevator all the way back up…” No, unfortunately that’s not in the book, but would you really be that surprised?

They stop dancing (mercifully) and Christian asks her if she has everything she needs, obviously hinting that now would be the time for her to ask for her knick-knacks back. Ana doesn’t ask, and Christian smiles. “Oh, the many faces of Christian Grey,” muses Ana. “Will I ever be able to understand this mercurial man?” I’ll be honest, I don’t think there’s much ‘mercurial’ about a man being chuffed his new girlfriend is going out with no knickers on. That’s a fairly standard reaction.

In the lift, Ana starts to panic about the fact that she’s decided to meet her ‘boyfriend’s’ parents for the first time without wearing any underwear. Another fairly standard reaction.

As they leave the building, Taylor pulls a massive Audi around for them and Ana and Christian get into the back. “I’m grateful that Kate’s plum dress is so clingy and hangs to the top of my knees.” KATE’S DRESS. GOT THAT? KATE’S PLUM DRESS.

About five minutes into the journey, perhaps less, Ana has a mini-breakdown and deduces that, because Christian is silent, there is something critically wrong with him, and it’s all her fault. “I can feel him slipping away from me. What is he thinking?” They’ve literally not been talking for less than five minutes.

Look, if you’re this insecure, don’t get into a relationship with a man where it’s all about satisfying him. It’s not even been ten minutes since he was swinging you around his apartment to Frank Sinatra, and just because he’s chosen not to fawn all over you in the company of his bodyguard, doesn’t mean he’s gone off you. Jesus, I hate these characters.

“Where did you learn to dance?” asks Ana, trying to fill the silence. Christian asks whether she really wants to know the answer to that question and Ana deduces that he was taught by ‘Mrs Robinson’, the ex-dom.

“I realise, in that moment, that I hate [Mrs Robinson]. I hope that I never meet her because I will not be responsible for my actions if I do.” I guarantee I speak for every reader of this blog when I say: hahahahahahahahaha.

Christian interrupts Ana’s downward spiral of hatred and empty threats, telling her not to overthink things. This sounds like pretty sensible advice, but he’s only saying it because he doesn’t want her to get freaked out and leave him looking for another submissive.

Ana changes tack and asks him why he used a cable tie on her in the playroom. “It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s something different for you to feel and experience. I know they’re quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device. Very effective at keeping you in your place,” replies Christian. I don’t for a minute think this just means in the bedroom. The subtext of this is that he’s keeping her in her place as his submissive, and as a woman too. Urgh.

They pull up at Christian’s parents’ house. It’s a palatial, colonial-style mansion – obviously. Ana meets Christian’s adoptive father, Carrick, and gets reacquainted with Grace, and everything is all irritatingly easy. She doesn’t stumble over her words, or accidentally spit a little bit, or make an inappropriate joke, or trip over the doorstep, or any of those things which are always guaranteed to happen when meeting the parents for the first time.

She meets Christian’s little sister, Mia, who is… well, really annoying. She comes barrelling down the hallway and hugs Ana, then doesn’t let go of her hand until they go to sit in the living room. I know what you’re thinking. Leave poor Mia alone, it sounds like she’s maybe seven or eight years old. Nope, wrong. She’s the same age as Ana.

They head through to the living room and Kate is there with Elliot. Kate hugs Ana, then Elliot hugs Ana. “What is this, hug Ana week?” wonders Ana. No, two of your friends have greeted you with a hug, it’s not like you’ve been set upon by rabid huggers desperate for a piece of you.

Christian’s dad asks if they want some drinks: “Prosecco?” “Please,” reply Christian and Ana in unison. “Oh… this is beyond weird,” thinks Ana. You’re right, that is weird, that you should both answer a question simultaneously with the same answer, when the only other option was ‘no thank you’, giving you a 50% chance of responding in the same way. Beyond weird. “You’re even saying the same things!” squeals Mia. I told you she was annoying.

As they sit with their drinks, Grace strikes up a conversation. She says that they had just been talking about vacations, and that Elliot had just decided he was going to join Kate and her family in Barbados for a week. “I glance at Kate, and she grins, her eyes bright and wide. She’s delighted. Katherine Kavanagh, show some dignity!” thinks Ana. The irony of this statement is just too perfect so I’m going to leave it lingering in the air for a while.

…

Okay, I’m done. On a serious note, what sort of message is it sending that a woman who is going on holiday with her stable, loving, attentive boyfriend isn’t allowed to be happy about it for fear of showing a lack of dignity, but a woman who is coerced and assaulted by her abusive partner is considered someone to envy?

Christian’s parents ask Ana if she has any holiday plans now that she’s graduated. “I’m thinking about going to Georgia for a few days,” replies Ana, before realising she hasn’t mentioned this to Christian yet.

“Christian gapes at me, blinking a couple of times, his expression unreadable. Oh shit.” Oh shit?! I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you had to run your every thought and plan past this man you haven’t even known for a month yet. Hell, most couples who have known each other for ten years don’t share their every thought or potential plan with each other.

Christian gets angry about this. Literally angry. His jaw clenches. He accosts her as they make their way through to the dining room and demands to know when she was going to tell him that she was going to visit her mother. I know I’ve said this a hundred thousand times about this book, but wouldn’t you be getting alarm bells in your head about this guy at this point, if not before when he was buying his Mad Axe Murderer Kit?!

Christian promises that the conversation is not over. “Oh, crapola,” thinks Ana. Crapola. That’s what she thinks of that. The word ‘crapola’ features in Britain’s best-selling book of all time. Crapola. I'm going to let Alan Rickman express how this makes me feel:

“Please don’t be mad at me,” whispers Ana to Christian over dinner. And Christian genuinely is mad at her for not informing him of her plan to visit her mother, who she hasn’t seen since before she graduated. I hate him I hate him I hate him.

At this point, Kate, the meddling cow, decides to ask Ana, very loudly, how her trip to the bar with Jose went the other night. This is a question we all wanted to know the answer to when the author decided to gloss over the details, but now is hardly the best time to go into it, right? Christian gets even madder. I hate everyone in this book.

Grace starts serving dinner, accompanied by a blonde woman with pigtails. “She blushes and gazes at [Christian] from under her long mascara’d lashes.” Mascara’d isn’t a word, just so you know.

Also, we’re back to this? We’re back to every woman in the whole novel wanting to get into Christian’s pants, because of course women don’t have brains, they just coast through life, waitressing or studying English literature and hoping that a rich, powerful businessman will sweep them off their feet. Oh, and they’re all blonde.

Everyone is still talking about holidays. Kate and Mia are discussing how lovely Paris is. “Christian, you should take Ana to Paris,” says Mia. Shut up Mia.

Christian says that he thinks Ana would probably prefer London, and Ana is all like, oh my god, he remembered that I love British literature… yeah, probably because you remind him with every spare sentence.

Mia starts talking about some guy she used to work for in Paris (Monsieur Floubert, a name which sounds like it was picked because it sounds as French as possible – may as well have just called him Monsieur le Frog and been done with it) and Christian, who happily seems to have forgiven Ana for doing nothing at all wrong, starts running his hand up Ana’s leg under the table. Ana completely loses her cool and starts spluttering wine everywhere. It sort of makes me like her for a brief moment.

Then the dinner is served. They have a huge roast with beef and lots of vegetables. “It is even more palatable since Christian manages to retain his good-humour for the rest of the meal.” I’m sorry; does your boyfriend’s mood really have an effect on your appetite? Is this the level of control he has over you already?  I realise that I am addressing a fictional character right now but I can actually see a lot of young women in Ana; women who are reading this book and wishing for this to happen to them. So I guess I’m addressing them, really, when I say: how are you okay with this?!

The Greys carry on their cosy family meal. “Mia regales us with her exploits in Paris, lapsing at one point into fluent French. We all stare at her, and she stares back puzzled, until Christian tells her in equally fluent French what she’s done, whereupon she bursts into a fit of giggles. She has a very infectious laugh and soon we’re all in stitches.”

“I sigh and peek at Fifty Shades.” Oh, this is his name now? Just because he said he was fifty shades of fucked-up? I was once described as a Calming Influence; I will now adopt this as my name.

Christian starts running his hand up Ana’s leg again, the filthbag. He asks if she wants a tour of the grounds (wink wink, nudge nudge), and leads Ana out of the dining room. “I’m going to show Ana the backyard,” he says to his mother.

He takes her out to the boathouse in the back garden. You know what’s going to happen next, right? 

TBC!

- Sorry I haven't posted in a while, the Olympics literally took over my life. That's not even an exaggeration. Thanks to everyone who has read and commented, you're all the best.