I’d like to begin this post about pages 401-450 of Fifty Shades of Grey with a public service announcement:
Please do not dispose of your tampons in toilets.
I know you might be in the heat of the moment, about to bang on the floor of the bathroom, but please dispose of your tampons in the trash receptacle. Or if you’re banging in a public stall, please use that little trash container that resembles a mailbox.
Why am I bringing this up?
So we left off with Ana hightailing it to her mother’s house in Georgia to get away from Christian’s log ride so she can think about their arrangement with some clarity. If you need to know how we got to this point in the story and hate yourself, you can click here to read previous installments.
Ana’s exodus results in heavy email action. When I read this, I felt like I do at work when someone sends out a mass email about something non work-related like joining a volleyball league, and everyone who replies back hits “reply all” rather than “reply sender” so I have to sift through 45 emails about “I’ll do it” or “Fun! What time?” or “I’d like to volley your balls.” And you feel like replying back “Can you not reply to all of us because no one gives a shit about your smiley emoticons,” but you don’t want to be that person, the one that causes that mass email “Jeez, what’s her problem?” to be sent out, and then you have 65 more replies to sift through. And they’re all filled with frowny faces.
I could just summarize and say they email back and forth about how much they miss one another and how much Christian wants to penetrate Ana’s down there, but then you miss out on the suffering, and that’s what this BDSM relationship is all about, gentle reader.
Christian signs off, saying he has to meet someone for dinner, and Ana deduces it’s the woman who made Christian a sex slave when he was 15. Ana calls her “Mrs. Robinson” because she is clever…wait, I’m sorry, I meant the opposite of clever, which is stupid buttface.
She finally decides to Google Christian’s name, which leads to the best line thus far: Holy Cow! I’m on Google!
Yes that is sooo very difficult. That’s why I only got 185,000 hits on a search of images for projectile vomit. You know what’s difficult? Not being on Google.
While out for drinks with her mom, Ana decides to send some more emails (!?!) about her dislike of Mrs. Robinson and how it impacts her down there:
Christian instantly replies “I see London, I see France” and it turns out the reason he can see her underpants is because he has flown to Georgia and is presently in the exact hotel bar as Ana and her mom.
creepy hot and sweet!
They murmur and pout and grit their teeth and look at their hands and arch eyebrows and glower, and sulk and tap dance and help a Nigerian prince secure freedom, and eventually head upstairs to Christian’s room to add their genital fluids to the walls of the bathroom.
Ana’s on her period. God, I’m so fortunate to know this. Aren’t you? And that’s when Christian pulls out her tampon and flings it into the toilet. Please refer to the PSA at the top of the post.
They then commence the banging. Before he mounts, he likes to say “I’m going to have you ______” and then adds the location. We learn that his member is covered in her menstrual blood…that is my little early Christmas gift to you. Now I’m going to throw up off the porch and have someone snap a picture so it can be added to the projectile vomit archive. Holy cow! I will soon be on Google!
After all the sexing, Ana feels she needs to get to know Christian better. “What’s your favorite film?” she really asks him.
The section ends with them about to go gliding–hopefully directly into a ravine.
Only one more recrap to go!