fifty-shades-of-grey

Do you trust me Ana?"Ana! "Yes,I do."I respond spontaneously, not thinking...because it's true-I do trust him."Well,then"he looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details""important details

If you call yourself an "authoress" on your Facebook profile, you suck at life. You are stupid and your children are ugly. It doesn't matter if you're just trying to be cute and original. You're not. You are about as original as all those other witless twits "writing" the one millionth shitty Fifty Shades clone. Or maybe you're trying to show your 2000 fake Facebook "friends" that you are an empowered feminist who will not stand for sexist terminology. But you're not showing people that you are fighting the good fight, you're showing people that you are a sheep, who's trying just a little too hard to ride the current wave of idiotic political correctness. The word "author" is no more gender-discrimination than the word "person." Do you call yourself a personess? No, of course not, because then you might as well wear a sign around your neck that says, "Hello, I'm a retard.

I glance down his body. He's still wearing his shorts and his shirt, and I still have my T-shirt on. Jeez-- talk about wham, bam, thank you ma'am.

And so a pattern develops: wake, work cry. sleep. I can't even escape him in my dreams. Gray burning eyes, his lost look, his hair burnished and bright and bright all haunt me. And the music... so much music-I cannot bear to hear any music. I am careful to avoid it at all costs. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder.

I had started on the marriage and motherhood beat by accident with a post on my personal, read only by friends, blog called __ifty Shades of Men_. I had written it after buying Fifty Shades of Grey to spice up what Dave and I half-jokingly called our grown up time, and had written a meditation on how the sex wasn__ the sexiest part of the book. __ear publishers, I will tell you why every woman with a ring on her finger and a car seat in her SUV is devouring this book like the candy she won__ let herself eat._ I had written. __t__ not the fantasy of an impossibly handsome guy who can give you an orgasm just by stroking your nipples. It is instead the fantasy of a guy who can give you everything. Hapless, clueless, barely able to remain upright without assistance, Ana Steele is that unlikeliest of creatures, a college student who doesn__ have an email address, a computer, or a clue. Turns out she doesn__ need any of those things. Here is the dominant Christian Grey and he__l give her that computer plus an iPad, a beamer, a job, and an identity, sexual and otherwise. No more worrying about what to wear. Christian buys her clothes. No more stress about how to be in the bedroom. Christian makes those decisions. For women who do too much__hich includes, dear publishers, pretty much all the women who have enough disposable income to buy your books__his is the ultimate fantasy: not a man who will make you come, but a man who will make agency unnecessary, a man who will choose your adventure for you.

Look at the huge success of Fifty Shades of Grey. The girl in the book lets a rich guy beat her and ritually rape her, and she likes it! She finds it erotic! But imagine if Christian Grey wasn't a billionaire. Imagine if he lived in a dirty old trailer down by the river. Then that story wouldn't be a sexy romance novel, but an episode of CSI.

From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: MoaningDate: May 31 2011 19:39 ESTTo: Christian GreyGotta go.Laters, baby......From: Christian GreySubject: PlagiarismDate: May 31 2011 16:41To: Anastasia SteeleYou stole my line.And left me hanging.Enjoy your dinner.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Just think how many books I could've sold if Harry had been a bit more creative with his wand." -[On the success of 50 Shades of Grey]

Your stepfather? I'd like to meet him."Oh no... why?"I'm not sure that's a good idea."Christian unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line."Are you ashamed of me?""No!" It's my turn to sound exasperated. "Introduce you to my dad as what? 'This is the man who deflowered me and wants to start a BDSM relationship'. You're not wearing running shoes.

You've brushed your teeth," He says, staring at me."I used your toothbrush."His lips quirk up in a half smile. "Oh Anastasia Steele, what am I going to do with you?

You are one brave woman," he whispers, "I am in awe of you.

E L James, Party Games you__e looking kind of smug inserting that god damn anal plug giving me your kinky love after writing Fifty Shades you__e acting like some kind of renegade giving me your kinky love sit me on a dildo and spin me right around chain me up and hang me upside down giving me your kinky love god damn you E L James making me into some kind of party game giving me your kinky love put me in a dream and wheel in the Fucking Machine god damn you E L James spank a hand on my bum see how much I can cum god damn you E L James stand me up and sit me down lay me out and roll me about god damn you E L James BDSM electro impulses up my brainstem god damn you E L James cast me in a submissive role-play with my genitals on display god damn you E L James suspend me high in the air slap me around like I don__ care god damn you E L James take that whip off the shelf make me forget myself god damn you E L James Why are you wearing oven mittens? branding iron your name written inner goddess don__ keep in hidden god damn you E L James holy crap my mind has snapped to forget one thing that I have heard I__ never going to use the safe-word god damn you E L James By R.M.Romarney

My name might be similar, but I'd never say 'Laters, baby.

If he touches me, I will succumb. I know the power he wields over me and my traitorous body. I know.

The platinum Omega watch he gave me at breakfast on our first morning in London obscures the red line. The inscription still makes me swoon. AnastasiaYou are My MoreMy Love, My LifeChristian

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His over-whelming good looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he'd stop doing that.

Because I want to have sex with him--and because that's sinful--I'm blushing and flushing furiously under his scrutinizing scrutiny.

Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things.