By the door, two long, polished, ornately carved poles, like spindles from a banister but longer, hang like curtain rods across the wall. Above it is an expansive iron grid suspended from the ceiling, eight-foot square at least, and from it hang all manner of ropes, chains, and glinting shackles. Mahogany, and there are restraining cuffs on each corner. My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennett would be outraged, Jane Eyre too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have. My only sphere of reference is Kate, and she doesn’t take any shit from men. He’s the only one who knows and understands the rules. That’s what I’m hindered by in this game of seduction. I’m right aren’t I?” I flush and stare down at my hands. “I felt the tablecloth move, and it’s a calculated guess based on years of experience. They’re under the table for heaven’s sake. “ How do you know about my thighs?” My voice is low, disbelieving. You’re pressing your thighs together, you’re flushed, and your breathing has changed.” O, this is too much.

Is he psychic as well? “… Your body gives you away. How can he tell? “I can tell because…” Holy shit he’s answering my unspoken question. And right now, I know you want me, Anastasia.” My frown deepens. The – is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now? You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that detail. “All those decisions – all the wearying thought processes behind them. It would be easy.” His voice is soft, seductive. “If you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about this. He’s just given me a shit load of ideas to process and now this.

Fifty shades of grey book