五十度灰(Fifty Shades of Grey)英文版 Part II 1

heturnsandsmirksatme,andforthefirsttimeinfive

days,irelaxalittle.perhapsthiswon’tbesobad.

“how’sthenewjob?”

“good,thankyou.interesting.”

“what’syourbosslike?”

“oh,he’sokay.”howcanitellchristianthatjack

makesmeuncomfortable?christianturnsandgazesatme.

“what’swrong?”heasks.

“asidefromtheobvious,nothing.”

“theobvious?”

“oh,christian,youreallyareveryob一tusesometimes.”

“ob一tuse?me?i’mnotsureiappreciateyourtone,

misssteele.”

“well,don’tthen.”

hislipstwitchintoasmile.“iha一vemissedyoursmart

mouth.”

igaspandiwanttoshout,i’vemissedyou—allof

you—notjustyourmouth!butikeepquietandgazeout

theglassfishbowlthatischarlietango’swindshieldaswe

continuesouth.theduskistoourright,thesunlowonthe

horizon—large,blazingfieryorange—andiamicarus

again,flyingfartooclose.

theduskhasfollowedusfromseattle,andtheskyis

awashwithopal,pinks,andaquamarineswoven

seamlesslytogetherasonlymothernatureknowshow.

it’saclear,crispevening,andthelightsofportland

twinkleandwink,welcomingusaschristiansetsthe

helicopterdownonthehelipad.weareontopofthe

strangebrownbrickbuildinginportlandweleftlessthan

threeweeksago.

jeez,it’sbeenhardlyanytimeatall.yetifeellikei’ve

knownchristianforalifetime.hepowersdowncharlie

tango,flippingvariousswitchessotherotorsstop,and

eventuallyallihearismyownbreathingthroughthe

headphones.hmm.brieflyitremindsmeofthethomas

tallisexperience.iblanch.isodon’twanttogothere

rightnow.

christianunbuckleshisharnessandleansacrossto

undomine.

“goodtrip,misssteele?”heasks,hisvoicemild,his

grayeyesglowing.

“yes,thankyou,mr.grey,”ireplypolitely.

“well,let’sgoseetheboy’sphotos.”heholdshis

handouttomeandtakingit,iclimboutofcharlietango.

agray-hairedmanwithabeardwalksovertomeet

us,smilingbroadly,andirecognizehimastheold-timer

fromthelasttimewewerehere.

“joe.”christiansmilesandreleasesmyhandtoshake

joe’swarmly.

“keephersafeforstephan.he’llbealongaround

eightornine.”

“willdo,mr.grey.ma’am,”hesays,noddingatme.

“yourcar’swaitingdownstairs,sir.oh,andtheelevator’s

outoforder;you’llneedtousethestairs.”

“thankyou,joe.”

christiantakesmyhand,andweheadtothe

emergencystairs.

“goodthingforyouthisisonlythreefloors,inthose

heels,”hemutterstomeindisapproval.

nokidding.

“don’tyouliketheboots?”

“ilikethemverymuch,anastasia.”hisgazedarkens

andithinkhemightsaysomethingelse,buthestops.

“come.we’lltakeitslow.idon’twantyoufallingand

breakingyourneck.”

wesitinsilenceasourdrivertakesustothegallery.my

anxietyhasreturnedfullforce,andirealizethatourtimein

charlietangohasbeentheeyeofthestorm.christianis

quietandbrooding...apprehensiveeven;ourlighter

moodfromearlierhasdissipated.there’ssomuchiwant

tosay,butthisjourneyistooshort.christianstares

pensivelyoutthewindow.

“joséisjustafriend,”imurmur.

christianturnsandgazesatme,hiseyesdarkand

guarded,givingnothingaway.hismouth—oh,hismouthis

distracting,andunbidden.irememberitonme—

everywhere.myskinheats.heshiftsinhisseatand

frowns.

“thosebeautifuleyeslooktoolargeinyourface,

anastasia.pleasetellmeyou’lleat.”

“yes,christian,i’lleat,”ianswerautomatically,a

platitude.

“imeanit.”

“doyounow?”icannotkeepthedisdainoutofmy

voice.honestly,theaudacityofthisman—thismanwho

hasputmethroughhelloverthelastfewdays.no,that’s

wrong.i’veputmyselfthroughhell.no.it’shim.ishake

myhead,confused.

“idon’twanttofightwithyou,anastasia.iwantyou

back,andiwantyouhealthy,”hesayssoftly.

what?whatdoesthatmean?“butnothing’s

changed.”you’restillfiftyshades.

“let’stalkonthewayback.we’rehere.”

thecarpullsupinfrontofthegallery,andchristian

climbsout,lea一vingmespeechless.heopensthecardoor

forme,andiclamberout.

“whydoyoudothat?”myvoiceislouderthani

expected.

“dowhat?”christianistakenaback.

“saysomethinglikethatandthenjuststop.”

“anastasia,we’rehere.whereyouwanttobe.let’s

dothisandthentalk.idon’tparticularlywantascenein

thestreet.”

iflushandglancearound.he’sright.it’stoopublic.i

pressmylipstogetherasheglaresdownatme.

“okay,”imuttersulkily.takingmyhand,heleadsme

intothebuilding.

weareinaconvertedwarehouse—brickwalls,dark

woodfloors,whiteceilings,andwhitepipework.it’sairy

andmodern,andthereareseveralpeoplewandering

acrossthegalleryfloor,sippingwineandadmiringjosé’s

work.foramoment,mytroublesmeltawayasigrasp

thatjoséhasrealizedhisdream.waytogo,josé!

“goodeveningandwelcometojosérodriguez’s

show.”ayoungwomandressedinblackwithveryshort

brownhair,brightredlipstick,andlargehoopedearrings

greetsus.sheglancesbrieflyatme,thenmuchlongerthan

isstrictlynecessaryatchristian,thenturnsbacktome,

blinkingassheblushes.

mybrowcreases.he’smine—orwas.itryhardnot

toscowlather.ashereyesregaintheirfocus,sheblinks

again.

“oh,it’syou,ana.we’llwantyourtakeonallthis,

too.”grinning,shehandsmeabrochureanddirectsmeto

atableladenwithdrinksandsnacks.

howdoessheknowmyname?

“youknowher?”christianfrowns.

ishakemyhead,equallypuzzled.

heshrugs,distracted.“whatwouldyouliketo

drink?”

“i’llha一veaglassofwhitewine,thankyou.”

hisbrowfurrows,butheholdshistongueandheads

fortheopenbar.

“ana!”

josécomesbarrelingthroughathrongofpeople.

holycow!he’swearingasuit.helooksgoodand

he’sbeamingatme.heenfoldsmeinhisarms,huggingme

hard.andit’sallicandonottoburstintotears.my

friend,myonlyfriendwhilekateisaway.tearspoolin

myeyes.

“ana,i’msogladyoumadeit,”hewhispersinmyear,

thenpausesandabruptlyholdsmeatarm’slength,staring

atme.

“what?”

“heyareyouokay?youlook,well,odd.diosmio,

ha一veyoulostweight?”

iblinkbackmytears.“josé,i’mfine.i’mjustso

happyforyou.”crap—nothim,too.“congratulationson

theshow.”myvoicewa一versasiseehisconcernetched

onhisoh-so-familiarface,butiha一vetoholdmyself

together.

“howdidyougethere?”heasks.

“christianbroughtme,”isay,suddenlyapprehensive.

“oh.”josé’sfacefallsandhereleasesme.“whereis

he?”hisexpressiondarkens.

“overthere,fetchingdrinks.”inodinchristian’s

directionandseehe’sexchangingpleasantrieswith

someonewaitinginline.christianglancesupwhenilook

hiswayandoureyeslock.andinthatbriefmoment,i’m

paralyzed,staringattheimpossiblyhandsomemanwho

gazesatmewithsomeunfathomableemotion.hisgaze

hot,burningintome,andwe’relostforamomentstaring

ateachother.

holycow...thisbeautifulmanwantsmeback,and

deepdowninsidemesweetjoyslowlyunfurlslikea

morninggloryintheearlydawn.

“ana!”josédistractsme,andi’mdraggedbacktothe

hereandnow.“iamsogladyoucame—listen,ishould

warnyou—”

suddenly,missveryshorthairandredlipstickcuts

himoff.“josé,thejournalistfromtheportlandprintzis

heretoseeyou.comeon.”shegivesmeapolitesmile.

“howcoolisthis?thefame.”hegrins,andican’t

helpbutgrinback—he’ssohappy.“catchyoulater,

ana.”hekissesmycheek,andiwatchhimstrolloverto

ayoungwomanstandingbyatalllankyphotographer.

josé’sphotographsareeverywhere,andinsome

cases,blownupontohugecanvases.thereareboth

monochromesandcolors.there’sanetherealbeautyto

manyofthelandscapes.inonetakenoutnearthelakeat

vancouver,it’searlyeveningandpinkcloudsarereflected

inthestillnessofthewater.briefly,i’mtransportedbythe

tranquilityandthepeace.it’sstunning.

christianjoinsme,anditakeadeepbreathand

swallow,tryingtorecoversomeofmyearlierequilibrium.

hehandsmemyglassofwhitewine.

“doesitcomeuptoscratch?”myvoicesoundsmore

normal.

helooksquizzicallyatme.

“thewine.”

“no.rarelydoesatthesekindsofevents.theboy’s

quitetalented,isn’the?”christianisadmiringthelake

photo.

“whyelsedoyouthinkiaskedhimtotakeyour

portrait?”ican’thelptheprideinmyvoice.hiseyesglide

impassivelyfromthephotographtome.

“christiangrey?”thephotographerfromtheportland

printzapproacheschristian.“caniha一veapicture,sir?”

“sure.”christianhideshisscowl.istepback,buthe

grabsmyhandandpullsmetohisside.thephotographer

looksatbothofusandcan’thidehissurprise.

“mr.grey,thankyou.”hesnapsacoupleofphotos.

“miss...?”heasks.

“steele,”ireply.

“thankyou,misssteele.”hescurriesoff.

“ilookedforpicturesofyouwithdatesontheinternet.

therearen’tany.that’swhykatethoughtyouweregay.”

christian’smouthtwitcheswithasmile.“thatexplains

yourinappropriatequestion.no,idon’tdodates,

anastasia—onlywithyou.butyouknowthat.”hiseyes

burnwithsincerity.

“soyounevertookyour”—iglancearoundnervously

tochecknoonecanoverhearus—“subsout?”

“sometimes.notondates.shopping,youknow.”he

shrugs,hiseyesnotlea一vingmine.

oh,sojustintheplayroom—hisredroomofpain

andhisapartment.idon’tknowwhattofeelaboutthat.

“justyou,anastasia,”hewhispers.

iblushandstaredownatmyfingers.inhisownway,

hedoescareaboutme.

“yourfriendhereseemsmoreofalandscapeman,not

portraits.let’slookround.”heholdshishandouttome,

anditakeit.

wewanderpastafewmoreprints,andinoticea

couplenoddingatme,smilingbroadlyasiftheyknowme.

itmustbebecausei’mwithchristian,butoneyoungman

isblatantlystaring.odd.

weturnthecorner,andicanseewhyi’vebeen

gettingstrangelooks.hangingonthefarwallareseven

hugeportraits—ofme.

istareblanklyatthem,stupefied,theblooddraining

frommyface.me:pouting,laughing,scowling,serious,

amused.allinsupercloseup,allinblackandwhite.

holycrap!irememberjosémessingwiththecamera

onacoupleofoccasionswhenhewasvisitingandwhen

i’dbeenoutwithhimasdriverandphotographer’s

assistant.hetooksnapshots,orsoithought.notthese

invasivecandids.

iglanceupatchristian,whoisstaring,transfixed,at

eachofthepicturesinturn.

“seemsi’mnottheonlyone,”hemutterscryptically,

hismouthsettlingintoahardline.

ithinkhe’sangry.ohno.

“excuseme,”hesays,pinningmewithhisbrightgray

gazeforamoment.heturnsandheadstothereception

desk.

what’shisproblemnow?iwatchmesmerizedashe

talksanimatedlywithmissveryshorthairandred

lipstick.hefishesouthiswalletandproduceshiscredit

card.

shit.hemustha一veboughtoneofthem.

“hey.you’rethemuse.thesephotographsare

terrific.”ayoungmanwithashockofbrightblondhair

startlesme.ifeelahandatmyelbowandchristianis

back.

“you’realuckyguy.”blondshocksmirksat

christian,whogiveshimacoldstare.

“thatiam,”hemuttersdarkly,ashepullsmeoverto

oneside.

“didyoujustbuyoneofthese?”

“oneofthese?”hesnorts,nottakinghiseyesoffthem.

“youboughtmorethanone?”

herollshiseyes.“iboughtthemall,anastasia.idon’t

wantsomestrangeroglingyouintheprivacyoftheir

home.”

myfirstinclinationistolaugh.“you’dratheritwas

you?”iscoff.

heglaresdownatme,caughtoffguardbymy

audacity,ithink,buthe’stryingtohidehisamusement.

“frankly,yes.”

“pervert,”imouthathimandbitemylowerlipto

preventmysmile.

hismouthdropsopen,andnowhisamusementis

obvious.hestrokeshischinthoughtfully.

“can’targuewiththatassessment,anastasia.”he

shakeshishead,andhiseyessoftenwithhumor.

“i’ddiscussitfurtherwithyou,buti’vesignedan

nda.”

hesighs,gazingatme,andhiseyesdarken.“whati’d

liketodotoyoursmartmouth,”hemurmurs.

igasp,knowingfullwellwhathemeans.“you’revery

rude.”itrytosoundshockedandsucceed.doesheha一ve

noboundaries?

hesmirksatme,amused,andthenhefrowns.

“youlookveryrelaxedinthesephotographs,

anastasia.idon’tseeyoulikethatveryoften.”

what?whoa!changeofsubject—talkaboutnon

sequitur—fromplayfultoserious.

iflushandglancedownatmyfingers.hetiltsmyhead

back,andiinhalesharplyatthecontactwithhislong

fingers.

“iwantyouthatrelaxedwithme,”hewhispers.all

traceofhumorhasgone.

deepinsidemethatjoystirsagain.buthowcanthis

be?weha一veissues.

“youha一vetostopintimidatingmeifyouwantthat,”i

snap.

“youha一vetolearntocommunicateandtellmehow

youfeel,”hesnapsback,eyesblazing.

itakeadeepbreath.“christian,youwantedmeasa

submissive.that’swheretheproblemlies.it’sinthe

definitionofasubmissive—youe-mailedittomeonce.”i

pause,tryingtorecallthewording.“ithinkthesynonyms

were,andiquote,‘compliant,pliant,amenable,passive,

tractable,resigned,patient,docile,tame,subdued.’i

wasn’tsupposedtolookatyou.nottalktoyouunless

youga一vemepermissiontodoso.whatdoyouexpect?”i

hissathim.

heblinks,andhisfrowndeepensasicontinue.

“it’sveryconfusingbeingwithyou.youdon’twant

metodefyyou,butthenyoulikemy‘smartmouth.’you

wantobedience,exceptwhenyoudon’t,soyoucan

punishme.ijustdon’tknowwhichwayisupwheni’m

withyou.”

henarrowshiseyes.“goodpointwellmade,asusual,

misssteele.”hisvoiceisfrigid.“come,let’sgoeat.”

“we’veonlybeenhereforhalfanhour.”

“you’veseenthephotos;you’vespokentotheboy.”

“hisnameisjosé.”

“you’vespokentojosé—themanwho,thelasttimei

methim,wastryingtopushhistongueintoyourreluctant

mouthwhileyouweredrunkandill,”hesnarls.

“he’sneverhitme,”ispitathim.

christianscowlsatme,furyemanatingfromevery

pore.“that’salowblow,anastasia,”hewhispers

menacingly.

iflush,andchristianrunshishandsthroughhishair,

bristlingwithbarelycontainedanger.iglarebackathim.

“i’mtakingyouforsomethingtoeat.you’refading

awayinfrontofme.findtheboy,saygood-bye.”

“please,canwestaylonger?”

“no.go.now.saygood-bye.”

iglareathim,mybloodboiling.mr.damnedcontrol

freak.angryisgood.angryisbetterthantearful.

idragmygazeawayfromhimandscantheroomfor

josé.he’stalkingtoagroupofyoungwomen.istalkoff

towardhimandawayfromfifty.justbecausehebrought

mehere,iha一vetodoashesays?whothehelldoeshe

thinkheis?

thegirlsarehangingonjosé’severyword.oneof

themgaspsasiapproach,nodoub一trecognizingmefrom

theportraits.

“josé.”

“ana.excuseme,girls.”joségrinsatthemandputs

hisarmaroundme,andonsomeleveli’mamused—josé

allsmooth,impressingtheladies.

“youlookmad,”hesays.

“iha一vetogo,”imuttermulishly.

“youjustgothere.”

“iknowbutchristianneedstogetback.thepictures

arefantastic,josé—you’reverytalented.”

hebeams.“itwassocoolseeingyou.”

josesweepsmeintoabigbearhug,spinningmesoi

canseechristianacrossthegallery.he’sscowling,andi

realizeit’sbecausei’minjosé’sarms.soinavery

calculatingmove,iwrapmyarmsaroundjosé’sneck.i

thinkchristianisgoingtoexpire.hisglaredarkensto

somethingquitesinister,andslowlyhemakeshisway

towardus.

“thanksforthewarningabouttheportraitsofme,”i

mumble.

“shit.sorry,ana.ishouldha一vetoldyou.d’youlike

them?”

“um...idon’tknow,”ianswertruthfully,

momentarilyknockedoffbalancebyhisquestion.

“well,they’reallsold,sosomebodylikesthem.how

coolisthat?you’reapostergirl.”hehugsmetighterstill

aschristianreachesus,gloweringatmenow,though

fortunatelyjosédoesn’tsee.

joséreleasesme.“don’tbeastranger,ana.oh,mr.

grey,goodevening.”

“mr.rodriguez,veryimpressive.”christiansounds

icilypolite.“i’msorrywecan’tstaylonger,butweneedto

headbacktoseattle.anastasia?”hesub一tlystresseswe

andtakesmyhandashedoesso.

“bye,josé.congratulationsagain.”igivehimaquick

kissonthecheek,andbeforeiknowitchristianis

draggingmeoutofthebuilding.iknowhe’sboilingwith

silentwrath,butsoami.

helooksquicklyupanddownthestreetthenheads

leftandsuddenlysweepsmeintoasidealley,abruptly

pushingmeupagainstawall.hegrabsmyfacebetween

hishands,forcingmetolookupintohisardentdetermined

eyes.

igasp,andhismouthswoopsdown.he’skissingme,

violently.brieflyourteethclash,thenhistongueisinmy

mouth.

desireexplodeslikethefourthofjulythroughoutmy

body,andi’mkissinghimback,matchinghisfervor,my

handsknottinginhishair,pullingit,hard.hegroans,alow

sexysoundinthebackofhisthroatthatreverberates

throughme,andhishandmovesdownmybodytothetop

ofmythigh,hisfingersdiggingintomyfleshthroughthe

plumdress.

ipouralltheangstandheartbreakofthelastfewdays

intoourkiss,bindinghimtome,andithitsme—inthis

momentofblindingpassion—he’sdoingthesame,hefeels

thesame.

hebreaksoffthekiss,panting.hiseyesareluminous

withdesire,firingthealreadyheatedbloodthatispounding

throughmybody.mymouthisslackasitrytodrag

preciousairintomylungs.

“you.are.mine,”hesnarls,emphasizingeachword.

hepushesawayfrommeandbends,handsonhisknees

asifhe’srunamarathon.“fortheloveofgod,ana.”

ileanagainstthewall,panting,tryingtocontrolthe

riotousreactioninmybody,tryingtofindmyequilibrium

again.

“i’msorry,”iwhisperoncemybreathhasreturned.

“youshouldbe.iknowwhatyouweredoing.doyou

wantthephotographer,anastasia?heobviouslyhas

feelingsforyou.”

iflushandshakemyhead.

“no.he’sjustafriend.”

“iha一vespentallmyadultlifetryingtoa一voidany

extremeemotion.yetyou...youbringoutfeelingsinme

thatarecompletelyalien.it’svery...”hefrowns,

graspingfortheword.“unsettling.

“ilikecontrol,ana,andaroundyouthatjust”—he

stands,hisgazeintense—“evaporates.”hewa一veshishand

vaguely,thenrunsitthroughhishairandtakesadeep

breath.heclaspsmyhand.

“come,weneedtotalk,andyouneedtoeat.”

heleadsmeintoasmall,intimaterestaurant.

“thisplacewillha一vetodo,”christiangrumbles.“we

don’tha一vemuchtime.”

therestaurantlooksfinetome.woodenchairs,linen

tablecloths,andwallsthesamecoloraschristian’s

playroom—deepbloodred—withsmallgiltmirrors

randomlyplaced,whitecandles,andsmallvasesofwhite

roses.ellafitzgeraldcroonssoftlyinthebackground

aboutthisthingcalledlove.it’sveryromantic.

thewaiterleadsustoatablefortwoinasmallalcove,

andisit,apprehensiveandwonderingwhathe’sgoingto

say.

“wedon’tha一velong,”christiansaystothewaiteras

wesit.“sowe’lleachha一vesirloinsteakcookedmedium,

béarnaisesauceifyouha一veit,fries,andgreenvegetables,

whateverthechefhas;andbringmethewinelist.”

“certainly,sir.”thewaiter,takenabackbychristian’s

cool,calmefficiency,scuttlesoff.christianplaceshis

blackberryonthetable.jeez,don’tigetachoice?

“andifidon’tlikesteak?”

hesighs.“don’tstart,anastasia.”

“iamnotachild,christian.”

“well,stopactinglikeone.”

it’sasifhe’sslappedme.iblinkathim.sothisishow

itwillbe,anagitated,fraughtconversation,albeitinavery

romanticsettingbutcertainlynoheartsandflowers.

“i’machildbecauseidon’tlikesteak?”imuttertrying

toconcealmyhurt.

“fordeliberatelymakingmejealous.it’sachildish

thingtodo.ha一veyounoregardforyourfriend’sfeelings,

leadinghimonlikethat?”christianpresseshislipstogether

inathinlineandscowlsasthewaiterreturnswiththewine

list.

iblush—ihadn’tthoughtofthat.poorjosé—i

certainlydon’twanttoencouragehim.suddenly,i’m

mortified.christianhasapoint;itwasathoughtlessthing

todo.heglancesatthewinelist.

“wouldyouliketochoosethewine?”heasks,raising

hiseyebrowsatmeexpectantly,arrogancepersonified.he

knowsiknownothingaboutwine.

“youchoose,”ianswer,sullenbutchastened.

“twoglassesofthebarossavalleyshiraz,please.”

“er...weonlysellthatwinebythebottle,sir.”

“abottlethen,”christiansnaps.

“sir.”heretreats,subdued,andidon’tblamehim.i

frownatfifty.what’seatinghim?oh,meprobably,and

somewhereinthedepthsofmypsyche,myinnergoddess

risessleepily,stretches,andsmiles.she’sbeenasleepfor

awhile.

“you’reverygrumpy.”

hegazesatmeimpassively.“iwonderwhythatis?”

“well,it’sgoodtosettherighttoneforanintimateand

honestdiscussionaboutthefuture,wouldn’tyousay?”i

smileathimsweetly.

hismouthpressesintoahardline,butthen,almost

reluctantly,hislipslift,andiknowhe’stryingtostiflehis

smile.

“i’msorry,”hesays.

“apologyaccepted,andi’mpleasedtoinformyoui

ha一ven’tdecidedtobecomeavegetariansincewelastate.”

“sincethatwasthelasttimeyouate,ithinkthat’sa

mootpoint.”

“there’sthatwordagain,moot.”

“moot,”hemouthsandhiseyessoftenwithhumor.he

runshishandthroughhishair,andhe’sseriousagain.

“ana,thelasttimewespoke,youleftme.i’malittle

nervous.i’vetoldyouiwantyouback,andyou’ve

said...nothing.”hisgazeisintenseandexpectantwhile

hiscandoristotallydisarming.whatthehelldoisaytothis?