Content warnings for this chapter: Stalking and emotional abuse, mostly. The rape themes are still hanging around, too.
I touch my lips, swollen from his kiss.
“What happened in the elevator - it won’t happen again, well, not unless it’s premeditated.”That's not reassuring unless he means that she'd be part of the premeditation, and I'm not sure that he does.
I belatedly realize he’s not asked me where I live - yet he knows. But then he sent the books, of course he knows where I live. What able, cell-phone-tracking, helicopter owning, stalker wouldn’t.~*SO ROMANTIC*~
“Is that a new blouse?” she asks, and I let her have all the unexciting details about my night."Yeah, so our friend tried to force a kiss on me and then I barfed a lot so then Stump Chunkman showed up and made me dance and then I passed out completely and woke up in this guy's bed with no pants on and then he said weird cryptic things about how he likes to hurt people and was super bossy and then he forced a kiss on me but this time I didn't barf. Pretty unexciting."
I have to convince Kate that this is what I want to do. For some strange reason, she doesn’t trust him, maybe because he’s so stiff and formal. She says she can’t put her finger on it, but I have promised to text her when I arrive in Seattle. I haven’t told her about the helicopter, she’d freak.I am currently on Team Kate. I am extremely not on Team "If I told my closest friend the details about the relationship, I know she'd be upset, so I'm concealing things that she just wouldn't understand." That's one of the classic warning signs. It's the land war in Asia of relationships.
After all this time, am I ready for this? My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her small foot impatiently.Oh no, is this going to keep going on? When I first heard people make fun of the "inner goddess," I thought it was just one memorably cheesy line. I didn't realize it was going to be a recurring theme.
But apparently the "inner goddess" is the part of her that wants kinky sex, because lord knows she can't ever say that she does. So the author's awkward compromise between making her heroine look like the sort of wanton woman who has desires, versus making her completely unwilling, was to give her a feisty internal Tinkerbell who's willing. ...It's an original tactic, you've gotta admit.
[In Whip Slagcheek's helicopter, because of fucking course he has a helicopter:] I sit down in my allotted seat, and he crouches beside me to strap me into the harness. It’s a four-point harness with all the straps connecting to one central buckle. [...] “I like this harness,” he whispers.When I went to EMT school, there was another kinkster in my class. He was open about it--way too open, wearing a triskelion necklace and loudly explaining to everyone what it meant, showing off the DeviantArt account where he had tons of bondage art, drawing furries in bondage during class time.
His low point came when we had to practice securing each other to the rigid backboards we use to immobilize people with suspected spinal injuries. He told the whole group that he was really looking forward to this part of the class because he was so into bondage.
That's what I picture Trunk SlamChest being like.
“Okay, tower. PDX this is Charlie Tango Golf – Golf Echo Hotel, cleared for take-off. Please confirm, over.”I doubt E.L. James did enough research to know this, but he's being a presumptuous asshole here too. You don't say "I'm cleared for takeoff, right? I am, right?" to air traffic control. You request clearance for takeoff. They know if a 747 is about to fly over your head, and you don't, so you really don't want to go making any assumptions about what they'll tell you. (Also, you have to tell them where in the airport you are and which direction you're planning to go.)
I don't know anything about flying, by the way, but I had a hunch that if I looked this up it would be wrong, and my hunch did not disappoint.
And then he says "over and out." Goddamnit Big McLargeHuge. I did know this one because we made radio calls on the ambulance, and "over and out" is really bad form.
And then they fly by "Seattle International Airport," which does not exist.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that don’t you?”Anything except be stalked. And forced to dance when she's nearly passed out. And wake up in his bed when she didn't expect it. And eat when she didn't want to. And be kissed and groped without a chance to say no. Yep, nothing is going to be forced on her except literally everything he's done so far.
As I sit, I’m struck by the fact that I feel like Tess Durbeyfield looking at the new house that belongs to the notorious Alec D’Urberville. The thought makes me smile.Did she read the book? Alec rapes Tess. And it's not like "sexy ravishment" either. (Not that "sexy ravishment" is an okay thing, but you sort of expect it in romance novels of this caliber. You do not expect references to rape scenes where the victim is lost in the woods and crying and the rape ruins her life.)
He’s gone for a couple of minutes and returns with a document. “This is a non-disclosure agreement.” He shrugs and has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “My lawyer insists on it.” [...] “What does this agreement mean?” “It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone.”FUCKING WHAT. An NDA for a relationship. The fuck shit ass hell I can't even think in non-swear-words right now fuck.
Social isolation, secrecy, and silencing are typical features of abusive relationships, but it's a little unusual to get the terms drawn up by your lawyer. That's one fucking sleazy lawyer who's willing to write, much less "insist on," an official Contract Of Let's Just Keep This Our Little Secret.
"I don’t make love. I fuck… hard." [...]My mouth drops open. Fuck hard! Holy shit, that sounds so… hot.Really? Because to me, it sounds like the kind of shit a guy says to cover the fact that he barely knows which end of you has the vagina parts. "Oh yeah, baby, I'm such a super hard fucker. I'm totally going to put my dick in your clitoris and then I'm going to fuck through your cervix into your uterus. It's the hottest. All of the hundreds of women I've fucked have loved it. I fuck so hard."
"Come, I want to show you my playroom.” [...] Why are we looking at a playroom? I am mystified. “You want to play on your Xbox?” I ask.Okay, it's easy to laugh at her, but this poor girl. She is just not ready for this. She has no idea how sex or relationships work and she's barely capable of talking to the guy, much less standing up to him and drawing boundaries with him. Asking her to negotiate BDSM right now is like dropping her off a boat at the midpoint of the English Channel when you know damn well she can't dogpaddle across the kiddy pool.