Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

and I feel a stab of disappointment. Very quickly, I type him an e-mail.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Verbose?
    Date: May 31 2011 19:08 EST
    To: Christian Grey
    Sir, you are quite the loquacious writer. I have to go to dinner at Bob’s golf club, and just so you know, I am rolling my eyes at the thought. But you and your twitchy palm are a long way from me so my behind is safe, for now. I loved your e-mail. Will respond when I can. I miss you already.
Enjoy your afternoon.
Your Ana

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Your behind
    Date: May 31 2011 16:10
    To: Anastasia Steele
    Dear Miss Steele
I am distracted by the title of this e-mail. Needless to say it is safe – for now.
Enjoy your dinner, and I miss you, too, especially your behind and your smart mouth.
My afternoon will be dull, brightened only by thoughts of you and your eye rolling. I think it was you who so judiciously pointed out to me that I too suffer from that nasty habit.
    Christian Grey
CEO & Eye Roller, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Eye Rolling
    Date: May 31 2011 19:14 EST
    To: Christian Grey
    Dear Mr. Grey
Stop e-mailing me. I am trying to get ready for dinner. You are very distracting, even when you are on the other side of the continent. And yes – who spanks you when you roll your eyes?
Your Ana
    I press send, and immediately the image of that evil witch Mrs. Robinson comes into my mind. I just can’t picture it. Christian being beaten by someone as old as my mother, it’s just so wrong. Again I wonder what damage she’s wrought. My mouth sets in a hard grim line. I need a doll to stick pins in, maybe that way I can vent some of the anger I feel at this stranger.

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Your behind
    Date: May 31 2011 16:18
    To: Anastasia Steele
    Dear Miss Steele
I still prefer my title to yours, in so many different ways. It is lucky that I am master of my own destiny and no one castigates me. Except my mother occasionally and Dr. Flynn, of course. And you.
    Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Chastising… Me?
    Date: May 31 2011 19:22 EST
    To: Christian Grey
    Dear Sir
When have I ever plucked up the nerve to chastise you, Mr. Grey? I think you are mixing me up with someone else… which is very worrying. I really do have to get ready.
Your Ana

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Your behind
    Date: May 31 2011 16:25
    To: Anastasia Steele
    Dear Miss Steele
You do it all the time in print. Can I zip up your dress?
    Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
    For some unknown reason, his words leap out of the page and make me gasp. Oh… he wants to play games.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: NC-17
    Date: May 31 2011 19:28 EST
    To: Christian Grey
    I would rather you unzipped it.

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Careful what you wish for…
    Date: May 31 2011 16:31
    To: Anastasia Steele
    SO WOULD I.
    Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Panting
    Date: May 31 2011 19:33 EST
    To: Christian Grey
    Slowly…

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Groaning
    Date: May 31 2011 16:35
    To: Anastasia Steele
    Wish I was there.
    Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Moaning
    Date: May 31 2011 19:37 EST
    To: Christian Grey
    SO DO I
    “Ana!” My mother calls me, making me jump. Shit. Why do I feel so guilty?
    “Just coming, Mom.”

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Moaning
    Date: May 31 2011 19:39 EST
    To: Christian Grey
    Gotta go.
Laters, baby.
    I dash into the hall where Bob and my mother are waiting. My mother frowns.
    “Darling – are you feeling OK? You look at bit flushed.”
    “Mom, I’m fine.”
    “You look lovely, dear.”
    “Oh, this is Kate’s dress. You like it?”
    Her frown deepens.
    “Why are you wearing Kate’s dress?”
    Oh… no.
    “Well I like this one and she doesn’t,” I improvise quickly.
    She regards me shrewdly while Bob oozes impatience with his hangdog, hungry look.
    “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow,” she says.
    “Oh, Mom, you don’t need to do that. I have plenty of clothes.”
    “Can’t I do something for my own daughter? Come on, Bob’s starving.”
    “Too right,” moans Bob, rubbing his stomach and assuming a fake pained expression.
    I giggle as he rolls his eyes, and we head out the door.

    Later when I’m in the shower, cooling under the lukewarm water, I reflect on how much my mother has changed. Seeing