We're in my bedroom. I'm lying on my bed, panting. Man, what a workout. Who knew doing laundry was such hard work? Christian gets up and immediately gets dressed. He's had his fun, and now he's out of there. Are other guys this romantic?
"Was it everything you dreamed it would be, baby?" he asks, pulling out a wedgie.
My clothes have never been this clean.
"They look so... nice," I say, and I see him bristle at the word.
"There's that word again," he tells me.
"That's the word."
"What's wrong with the word 'nice'?"
"I don't like it."
"You don't like the word 'nice'?"
"There are a few things I don't like, Ana. I don't like to pet porcupines. I don't like putting out a campfire with my face. And I don't like the word 'nice'."
He's got his coat and tie on. He looks so sexy standing there without any pants. What does he mean he doesn't like putting out a campfire with his face? How else would you do it?
"You see, I'm a man of action," he tells me, "and words confuse me. 'Perpendicular' in particular. 'Ipso facto' is another one."
I have no idea what he's talking about. Words confuse me, too.
"Hand me my pants, Ana." It's an order, not a request. "Now, have you considered my proposal?"
"Your indecent proposal?"
"Well, my dear, you know what they say..."
"A stitch in time saves nine?"
"A penny saved is a penny earned?"
"If you pick it, it won't heal?"
"No. What they say is that it's only indecent if it's in... decent."
He laughs. I laugh, too. I still have no idea what he's talking about. I think he's playing with words. Wouldn't he rather play with my bazongas? I guess not.
I hand him his pants. Hmmm... smells like teen spirit.
"I like you, Ana," he tells me, putting on his pants one leg at a time. "You're not like other women. You're more like a washing machine. The difference being, when I drop a load in my washing machine, it doesn't follow me around afterward."
He walks over to the door. I get up, following him.
"Will you see me out?" he asks, turning around and seeing me already there. "Uh... are we still on for Wednesday?"
He moves in, pulls me into his arms, and holds me close.
"Oh, Ana," he says, "what are you doing to me?"
I take my hand out of his pants. If he doesn't know, I must be doing it wrong.
He takes a deep breath, kisses my forehead, and leaves, holding his pants over his right arm like a waiter in a fancy-dancy restaurant, like Steaks R Us.
"Goodbye, Kate," he tells my unseen roommate, whom he spies hiding behind her stripper pole.
Crap, am I in for it now. There will be no end to her inquisition of me later.
He walks out the door, and I watch him skip to his car in that manly, Christian Grey way of his. Crocket opens the back door. Christian turns just before he climbs in and gives me one of his dazzling smiles. If I'm lucky, that's all he's given me. I give him a smile in return. And a wave.
He came, he saw, and he laundered. So why do I feel so melancholy? What's with all the infinite sadness? Why did the Smashing Pumpkins have to break up?
I go into my bedroom and close the door behind me. Just before it shuts I see Kate's head peek out from behind the stripper pole. God, I wish I was that thin.
As tears come to my eyes, I remember an old saying that goes, "It's easier to avoid temptation, than to resist it." Why, oh, why, couldn't I have just avoided the last temptation of Christian Grey from the start?
Aw, who am I kidding? Even Adam and Eve were tempted by forbidden fruit. Forbidden fruit? Can you believe it? Now a forbidden donut I could understand. Maybe even a highly unrecommended pizza. But the temptation of fruit, I think, would be the easiest thing in the world to resist. That, and vegetables.
There's a knock at the door. It's Kate. She must be worried.
"Ana?" she says, her voice filled with concern.
"Yes?" I say, trying to be strong.
"Did he mention my name?"
Fifty Shades of Funny