五十度灰(Fifty Shades of Grey)英文版 Part II 4

oh.“sowhyisshetryingtogetyourattentionnow?”

heshakeshisheadsadly.“idon’tknow.allwe’ve

managedtofindoutisthatsheranoutonherhusband

aboutfourmonthsago.”

“letmegetthisstraight.shehasn’tbeenyour

submissiveforthreeyears?”

“abouttwoandahalfyears.”

“andshewantedmore.”

“yes.”

“butyoudidn’t?”

“youknowthis.”

“sosheleftyou.”

“yes.”

“sowhyisshecomingtoyounow?”

“idon’tknow.”andthetoneofthisvoicetellsmethat

heatleasthasatheory.

“butyoususpect...”

hiseyesnarrowperceptiblywithanger.“isuspectit

hassomethingtodowithyou.”

me?whatwouldshewantwithme?“whatdoyou

ha一vethatidon’t?”

istareatfifty,magnificentlynakedfromthewaistup.i

ha一vehim;he’smine.that’swhatiha一ve,andyetshe

lookedlikeme:samedarkhairandpaleskin.ifrownat

thethought.yes...whatdoiha一vethatshedoesn’t?

“whydidn’tyoutellmeyesterday?”heaskssoftly.

“iforgotabouther.”ishrugapologetically.“you

know,drinksafterwork,attheendofmyfirstweek.you

turningupatthebarandyour...testosteronerushwith

jack,andthenwhenwewerehere.itslippedmymind.

youha一veahabitofmakingmeforgetthings.”

“testosteronerush?”hislipstwitch.

“yes.thepissingcontest.”

“i’llshowyouatestosteronerush.”

“wouldn’tyouratherha一veacupoftea?”

“no,anastasia,iwouldn’t.”

hiseyesburnintome,scorchingmewithhisi-wantyou-

and-i-want-you-nowlook.fuck...it’ssohot.

“forgetabouther.come.”heholdsouthishand.

myinnergoddessdoesthreebackflipsoverthegym

floorasigrasphishand.

iwake,toowarm,andi’mwrappedaroundanaked

christiangrey.eventhoughhe’sfastasleep,he’sholding

meclose.softmorninglightfiltersthroughthecurtains.my

headisonhischest,mylegtangledwithhis,myarm

acrosshisstomach.

iraisemyheadslightly,scaredthatimightwakehim.

helookssoyoung,sorelaxedinsleep,soutterlybeautiful.

ican’tquitebelievethisadonisismine,allmine.

hmm...reachingup,itentativelystrokehischest,

runningmyfingertipsthroughthesmatteringofhair,andhe

doesn’tstir.holycow.ican’tquitebelieveit.he’sreally

mine—forafewmorepreciousmoments.ileanoverand

tenderlykissoneofhisscars.hemoanssoftlybutdoesn’t

wake,andismile.ikissanotherandhiseyesopen.

“hi.”igrinathim,guiltily.

“hi,”heanswerswarily.“whatareyoudoing?”

“lookingatyou.”irunmyfingersdownhishappy

trail.hecapturesmyhand,narrowshiseyes,thensmilesa

brilliantchristian-at-easesmile,andirelax.mysecret

touchingstayssecret.

oh...whywon’tyouletmetouchyou?

suddenlyhemovesontopofme,pressingmeintothe

mattress,hishandsonmine,warningme.hestrokesmy

nosewithhis.

“ithinkyou’reuptonogood,misssteele,”he

accusesbuthissmileremains.

“ilikebeinguptonogoodnearyou.”

“youdo?”heasksandkissesmelightlyonthelips.

“sexorbreakfast?”heasks,hiseyesdarkbutfullof

humor.hiserectionisdiggingintome,anditiltmypelvis

uptomeethim.

“goodchoice,”hemurmursagainstmythroat,ashe

trailskissesdowntomybreast.

istandatmychestofdrawers,staringatmymirror,trying

tocoaxmyhairintosomesemblanceofstyle—really,it’s

justtoolong.i’minjeansandat-shirt,andchristian,

freshlyshowered,isdressingbehindme.igazeathisbody

hungrily.

“howoftendoyouworkout?”iask.

“everyweekday,”hesays,buttoninghisfly.

“whatdoyoudo?”

“run,weights,kickbox.”heshrugs.

“kickbox?”

“yes,iha一veapersonaltrainer,anex-olympic

contenderwhoteachesme.hisnameisclaude.he’svery

good.you’dlikehim.”

iturntogazeathimashestartstobuttonuphiswhite

shirt.

“whatdoyoumeani’dlikehim?”

“you’dlikehimasatrainer.”

“whywouldineedapersonaltrainer?iha一veyouto

keepmefit.”ismirkathim.

hesauntersoverandwrapshisarmsaroundme,his

darkeningeyesmeetingmineinthemirror.

“butiwantyoufit,baby,forwhatiha一veinmind.i’ll

needyoutokeepup.”

iflushasmemoriesoftheplayroomfloodmymind.

yes...theredroomofpainisexhausting.ishegoing

toletmebackinthere?doiwanttogobackin?

ofcourseyoudo!myinnergoddessscreamsatme

fromherchaiselongue.

istareintohisunfathomable,mesmerizinggrayeyes.

“youknowyouwantto,”hemouthsatme.

iflush,andtheundesirablethoughtthatleilacould

probablykeepupslithersinvidiousandunwelcomeinto

mymind.ipressmylipstogetherandchristianfrownsat

me.

“what?”heasks,concerned.

“nothing.”ishakemyheadathim.“okay,i’llmeet

claude.”

“youwill?”christian’sfacelightsupinastounded

disbelief.hisexpressionmakesmesmilehelookslike

he’swonthelottery,thoughchristian’sprobablynever

evenboughtaticket—hehasnoneed.

“yes,jeez—ifitmakesyouthathappy,”iscoff.

hetightenshisarmsaroundmeandkissesmycheek.

“youha一venoidea,”hewhispers.“so—whatwouldyou

liketodotoday?”henuzzlesme,sendingdelicioustingles

throughmybody.

“i’dliketogetmyhaircut,andum...ineedtobank

acheckandbuyacar.”

“ah,”hesaysknowinglyandbiteshislip.takingone

handoffme,hereachesintohisjeanspocketandholdsup

thekeytomylittleaudi.

“it’shere,”hesaysquietly,hisexpressionuncertain.

“whatdoyoumean,it’shere?”boy.isoundangry.

crap.iamangry.mysubconsciousglaresathim.how

darehe!

“taylorbroughtitbackyesterday.”

iopenmymouththencloseitandrepeattheprocess

twice,butiha一vebeenrenderedspeechless.he’sgiving

mebackthecar.doublecrap.whydidn’tiforeseethis?

well,twocanplayatthatgame.ifishinthebackpocket

ofmyjeansandpullouttheenvelopewithhischeck.

“here,thisisyours.”

christianlooksatmequizzically,thenrecognizingthe

envelope,raisesbothhishandsandstepsawayfromme.

“ohno.that’syourmoney.”

“no,itisn’t.i’dliketobuythecarfromyou.”

hisexpressionchangescompletely.fury—yes,fury—

sweepsacrosshisface.

“no,anastasia.yourmoney,yourcar,”hesnapsat

me.

“no,christian.mymoney,yourcar.i’llbuyitfrom

you.”

“iga一veyouthatcarforyourgraduationpresent.”

“ifyou’dgivenmeapen—thatwouldbeasuitable

graduationpresent.youga一vemeanaudi.”

“doyoureallywanttoargueaboutthis?”

“no.”

“good—herearethekeys.”heputsthemonthechest

ofdrawers.

“that’snotwhatimeant!”

“endofdiscussion,anastasia.don’tpushme.”

iscowlathim,theninspirationhitsme.takingthe

envelope,iripitintwo,thentwoagainanddropthe

contentsintomywastebin.oh,thatfeelsgood.

christiangazesatmeimpassively,butiknowi’vejust

litthebluetouchpaperandshouldstandwellback.he

strokeshischin.

“youare,asever,challenging,misssteele,”hesays

dryly.heturnsonhisheelandstalksintotheotherroom.

thatisnotthereactioniexpected.iwasanticipatingfull

scalearmageddon.istareatmyselfinthemirrorand

shrug,decidingonaponytail.

mycuriosityispiqued.whatisfiftydoing?ifollow

himintotheroom,andhe’sonthephone.

“yes,twenty-fourthousanddollars.directly.”

heglancesupatme,stillimpassive.

“good...monday?excellent...nothat’sall,

andrea.”

hesnapsthephoneshut.

“depositedinyourbankaccount,monday.don’tplay

gameswithme.”he’sboilingmad,butidon’tcare.

“twenty-fourthousanddollars!”i’malmostscreaming.

“andhowdoyouknowmyaccountnumber?”

myiretakeschristianbysurprise.

“iknoweverythingaboutyou,anastasia,”hesays

quietly.

“there’snowaymycarwasworthtwenty-four

thousanddollars.”

“iwouldagreewithyou,butit’saboutknowingyour

market,whetheryou’rebuyingorselling.somelunaticout

therewantedthatdeathtrapandwaswillingtopaythat

amountofmoney.apparently,it’saclassic.asktaylorif

youdon’tbelieveme.”

iglowerathimandheglowersback,twoangry

stubbornfoolsglaringateachother.

andifeelit,thepull—theelectricitybetweenus—

tangible,drawingustogether.suddenlyhegrabsmeand

pushesmeupagainstthedoor,hismouthonmine,

claimingmehungrily,onehandonmybehindpressingme

tohisgroinandtheotherinthenapeofmyhair,tugging

myheadback.myfingersareinhishair,twistinghard,

holdinghimtome.hegrindshisbodyintomine,

imprisoningme,hisbreathingragged.ifeelhim.hewants

me,andi’mheadyandreelingwithexcitementasi

acknowledgehisneedforme.

“why,whydoyoudefyme?”hemumblesbetweenhis

heatedkisses.

mybloodsingsinmyveins.willhealwaysha一vethis

effectonme?andionhim?

“becauseican.”i’mbreathless.ifeelratherthansee

hissmileagainstmyneck,andhepresseshisforeheadto

mine.

“lord,iwanttotakeyounow,buti’moutof

condoms.icannevergetenoughofyou.you’rea

maddening,maddeningwoman.”

“andyoumakememad,”iwhisper.“ineveryway.”

heshakeshishead.“come.let’sgooutfor

breakfast.andiknowaplaceyoucangetyourhaircut.”

“okay,”iacquiesceandjustlikethat,ourfightisover.

“i’llgetthis.”ipickupthetabforbreakfastbeforehe

does.

hescowlsatme.

“youha一vetobequickaroundhere,grey.”

“you’reright,ido,”hesayssourly,thoughithinkhe’s

teasing.

“don’tlooksocross.i’mtwenty-fourthousanddollars

richerthaniwasthismorning.icanafford”—iglanceat

thecheck—“twenty-twodollarsandsixty-sevencentsfor

breakfast.”

“thankyou,”hesaysgrudgingly.oh,thesulky

schoolboyisback.

“wheretonow?”

“youreallywantyourhaircut?”

“yes,lookatit.”

“youlooklovelytome.youalwaysdo.”

iblushandstaredownatmyfingersknottedinmylap.

“andthere’syourfather’sfunctionthisevening.”

“remember,it’sblacktie.”

ohjeez.“whereisit?”

“atmyparents’house.theyha一veamarquee.you

know,theworks.”

“what’sthecharity?”

christianrubshishandsdownhisthighs,looking

uncomfortable.

“it’sadrugrehabprogramforparentswithyoungkids

calledcopingtogether.”

“soundslikeagoodcause,”isaysoftly.

“come,let’sgo.”hestands,effectivelyhaltingthat

topicofconversationandholdsouthishand.asitakeit,

hetightenshisfingersaroundmine.

it’sstrange.he’ssodemonstrativeinsomewaysand

yetsoclosedinothers.heleadsmeoutoftherestaurant,

andwewalkdownthestreet.itisalovely,mildmorning.

thesunisshining,andtheairsmellsofcoffeeandfreshly

bakedbread.

“wherearewegoing?”

“surprise.”

oh,okay.idon’treallylikesurprises.

wewalkfortwoblocks,andthestoresbecome

decidedlymoreexclusive.iha一ven’tyethadanopportunity

toexplore,butthisreallyisjustaroundthecornerfrom

whereilive.katewillbepleased.thereareplentyof

smallboutiquestofeedherfashionpassion.actually,i

needtobuysomefloatyskirtsforwork.

christianstopsoutsidealarge,slick-lookingbeauty

salonandopensthedoorforme.it’scalledescla一va.the

interiorisallwhiteandleather.atthestarkwhitereception

desksitsayoungblondwomaninacrispwhiteuniform.

sheglancesupasweenter.

“goodmorning,mr.grey,”shesaysbrightly,color

risinginhercheeksasshebatshereyelashesathim.it’s

thegreyeffect,butsheknowshim!how?

“hellogreta.”

andheknowsher.whatisthis?

“isthistheusual,sir?”sheaskspolitely.she’swearing

verypinklipstick.

“no,”hesaysquickly,withanervousglanceatme.

theusual?whatdoesthatmean?

holyfuck!it’sruleno6,thedamnedbeautysalon.

allthewaxingnonsense...shit!

thisiswherehebroughtallhissubs?maybeleila,

too?whatthehellamisupposedtomakeofthis?

“misssteelewilltellyouwhatshewants.”

iglareathim.he’sintroducingtherulesbystealth.

i’veagreedtothepersonaltrainer—andnowthis?

“whyhere?”ihissathim.

“iownthisplace,andthreemorelikeit.”

“youownit?”igaspinsurprise.well,that’s

unexpected.

“yes.it’sasideline.anyway—whateveryouwant,

youcanha一veithere,onthehouse.allsortsofmassage;

swedish,shiatsu,hotstones,reflexology,seaweedbaths,

facials,allthatstuffthatwomenlike—everything.it’sdone

here.”hewa一veshislong-fingeredhanddismissively.

“waxing?”

helaughs.“yeswaxing,too.everywhere,”he

whispersconspiratorially,enjoyingmydiscomfort.

iblushandglanceatgreta,whoislookingatme

expectantly.

“i’dlikeahaircut,please.”

“certainly,misssteele.”

gretaisallpinklipstickandbustlinggermanic

efficiencyasshecheckshercomputerscreen.

“francoisfreeinfiveminutes.”

“franco’sfine,”sayschristianreassuringlytome.iam

tryingtowrapmyheadaroundthis.christiangreyceo

ownsachainofbeautysalons.

ipeekupathim,andsuddenlyheblanches—

something,orsomeone,hascaughthiseye.iturntosee

wherehe’slooking,andrightatthebackofthesalona

sleekplatinumblondehasappeared,closingadoorbehind

herandspeakingtooneofthehairstylists.

platinumblondeistall,tanned,lovely,andinherlate

thirtiesorforties—it’sdifficulttotell.she’swearingthe

sameuniformasgreta,butinblack.shelooksstunning.

herhairshineslikeahalo,cutinsharpbob.assheturns,

shecatchessightofchristianandsmilesathim,adazzling

smileofwarmrecognition.

“excuseme,”christianmumbleshurriedly.

hestridesquicklythroughthesalon,pastthehair

stylistsallinwhite,pasttheapprenticesatthesinks,and

overtoher,toofarawayformetoheartheirconversation.

platinumblondegreetshimwithobviousaffection,kissing

bothhischeeks,herhandsrestingonhisupperarms,and

theytalkanimatedlytogether.

“misssteele?”

gretathereceptionististryingtogetmyattention.

“hangonamoment,please.”iwatchchristian,

fascinated.

platinumblondeturnsandlooksatme,andgivesme

thesamedazzlingsmile,asifsheknowsme.ismile

politelyback.

christianlooksupsetaboutsomething.he’sreasoning

withher,andshe’sacquiescing,holdingherhandsupand

smilingathim.he’ssmilingather—clearlytheyknoweach

otherwell.perhapsthey’veworkedtogetherforalong

time?maybesherunstheplace;afterall,shehasacertain

lookofauthority.

thenithitsmelikeawreckingball,andiknow,deep

downinmygutonaviscerallevel,iknowwhoitis.it’s

her.stunning,older,beautiful.

it’smrs.robinson.

emilydickinson,“i’mnobody!whoareyou?”firststanza.

“greta,whoismr.greytalkingto?”myscalpistryingto

lea一vethebuilding.it’spricklingwithapprehension,andmy

subconsciousisscreamingatmetofollowit.butisound

nonchalantenough.

“oh,that’smrs.lincoln.sheownstheplacewithmr.

grey.”gretaseemsmorethanhappytoshare.

“mrs.lincoln?”ithoughtmrs.robinsonwas

divorced.perhapsshe’sremarriedtosomepoorsap.

“yes.she’snotusuallyhere,butoneofourtechnicians

issicktodaysoshe’sfillingin.”

“doyouknowmrs.lincoln’sfirstname?”

gretalooksupatme,frowning,andpursesherbright

pinklips,questioningmycuriosity.shit,perhapsthisisa

steptoofar.

“elena,”shesays,almostreluctantly.

i’mswampedbyastrangesenseofreliefthatmy

spideysensehasnotletmedown.

spideysense?mysubconscioussnorts,paedosense.

theyarestilldeepindiscussion.christianistalking

rapidlytoelena,andshelooksworried,nodding,

grimacing,andshakingherhead.reachingout,sherubs

hisarmsoothinglywhilebitingherlip.anothernod,and

sheglancesatmeandoffersmeasmallreassuringsmile.

icanonlystareatherstony-faced.ithinki’min

shock.howcouldhebringmehere?

shemurmurssomethingtochristian,andhelooksmy

waybrieflythenturnsbacktoherandreplies.shenods,

andithinkshe’swishinghimluck,butmylip-readingskills

aren’thighlydeveloped.

fiftystridesbacktome,anxietyetchedonhisface.

damnright.mrs.robinsonreturnstothebackroom,

closingthedoorbehindher.

christianfrowns.“areyouokay?”heasks,buthis

voiceisstrained,cautious.

“notreally.youdidn’twanttointroduceme?”my

voicesoundscold,hard.

hismouthdropsopen,helooksasifi’vepulledthe

rugfromunderhisfeet.

“butithought—”

“forabrightman,sometimes...”wordsfailme.“i’d

liketogo,please.”

“why?”

“youknowwhy.”irollmyeyes.

hegazesdownatme,hiseyesburning.

“i’msorry,ana.ididn’tknowshe’dbehere.she’s

neverhere.she’sopenedanewbranchatthebra一vern

center,andthat’swhereshe’snormallybased.someone

wassicktoday.”

iturnonmyheelandheadforthedoor.

“wewon’tneedfranco,greta,”christiansnapsas

weheadoutofthedoor.iha一vetosuppresstheimpulseto

run.iwanttorunfastandfaraway.iha一vean

overwhelmingurgetocry.ijustneedtogetawayfromall

thisfuckedupness.

christianwalkswordlesslybesidemeasitrytomull

allthisoverinmyhead.wrappingmyarmsprotectively

aroundmyself,ikeepmyheaddown,a一voidingthetrees

onsecondavenue.wisely,hemakesnomovetotouch

me.mymindisboilingwithunansweredquestions.will

mr.evasivefessup?

“youusedtotakeyoursubsthere?”isnap.

“someofthem,yes,”hesaysquietly,histoneclipped.

“leila?”

“yes.”

“theplacelooksverynew.”

“it’sbeenrefurbishedrecently.”

“isee.somrs.robinsonmetallyoursubs.”

“yes.”

“didtheyknowabouther?”

“no.noneofthemdid.onlyyou.”

“buti’mnotyoursub.”

“no,youmostdefinitelyarenot.”

istopandfacehim.hiseyesarewide,fearful.hislips

arepressedintoahard,uncompromisingline.

“canyouseehowfucked-upthisis?”iglareupat

him,myvoicelow.

“yes.i’msorry.”andhehasthegracetolook

contrite.

“iwanttogetmyhaircut,preferablysomewhere

whereyouha一ven’tfuckedeitherthestaffortheclientele.”

heflinches.

“now,ifyou’llexcuseme.”

“you’renotrunning.areyou?”heasks.

“no,ijustwantadamnhaircut.somewhereican

closemyeyes,ha一vesomeonewashmyhair,andforget

aboutallthisbaggagethataccompaniesyou.”

herunshishandthroughhishair.“icanha一vefranco

cometotheapartment,oryourplace,”hesaysquietly.

“she’sveryattractive.”

heblinks.“yes,sheis.”

“isshestillmarried?”

“no.shedivorcedaboutfiveyearsago.”

“whyaren’tyouwithher?”

“becausethat’soverbetweenus.i’vetoldyouthis.”

hisbrowcreasessuddenly.holdinghisfingerup,hefishes

hisblackberryoutofhisjacketpocket.itmustbe

vibratingbecauseidon’thearitring.

“welch,”hesnaps,thenlistens.wearestandingon

secondavenue,andigazeinthedirectionofthelarch

saplinginfrontofme,itslea一vesthenewestgreen.

peoplebustlepastus,lostintheirsaturdaymorning

chores.nodoub一tcontemplatingtheirownpersonal

dramas.iwonderiftheyincludestalkerex-submissives,

stunningex-dommes,andamanwhohasnoconceptof

privacyunderunitedstateslaw.

“killedinacarcrash?when?”christianinterruptsmy

reverie.

ohno.who?ilistenmoreclosely.

“that’stwicethatbastard’snotbeenforthcoming.he

mustknow.doesheha一venofeelingsforherwhatsoever?”

christianshakeshisheadindisgust.“thisisbeginningto

makesense...no...explainswhy,butnotwhere.”

christianglancesaroundusasifsearchingforsomething,

andifindmyselfmirroringhisactions.nothingcatchesmy

eye.therearejusttheshoppers,thetraffic,andthetrees.

“she’shere,”christiancontinues.“she’swatching

us...yes...no.twoorfour,twenty-fourseven...i

ha一ven’tbroachedthatyet.”christianlooksatmedirectly.

broachedwhat?ifrown,athimandheregardsme

warily.

“what...,”hewhispersandpales,hiseyeswidening.

“isee.when?...thatrecently?buthow?...no

backgroundchecks?...isee.e-mailthename,address,

andphotosifyouha一vethem...twenty-fourseven,from

thisafternoon.liaisewithtaylor.”christianhangsup.

“well?”iask,exasperated.ishegoingtotellme?

“thatwaswelch.”

“who’swelch?”

“mysecurityadvisor.”

“okay.sowhat’shappened?”

“leilaleftherhusbandaboutthreemonthsagoandran

offwithaguywhowaskilledinacaraccidentfourweeks

ago.”

“oh.”

“theassholeshrinkshouldha一vefoundthatout,”he

saysangrily.“grief,that’swhatthisis.come.”heholds

outhishand,andiautomaticallyplacemineinhisbeforei

snatchitawayagain.

“waitaminute.wewereinthemiddleofadiscussion,

aboutus.abouther,yourmrs.robinson.”

christian’sfacehardens.“she’snotmymrs.

robinson.wecantalkaboutitatmyplace.”

“idon’twanttogotoyourplace.iwanttogetmyhair

cut!”ishout.ificanjustfocusonthisonething...

hegrabshisblackberryfromhispocketagainand