Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was – my dashed hopes, my dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.
We’ve chased the dawn, Anastasia, now the dusk.
My inner goddes has her sequins on and is warming up to dance the rumba.
Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils.
I’ve never wanted more, until I met you. – Christian Grey, Fifty Shades of Grey.
Even a pain in the ass needs someone to care about them.
A controlling man, surely a mythical creature?
I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can’t love me.
I’m going to say hi to my girl now.
Don’t run, please-have a little faith in me and a little patience. Please.
Oh my, the look he gives me could be solely responsible for global warming.
My subconscious is furious, medusa-like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch’s Scream.
His words make me squirm. He wouldn’t dare! He and his twitchy palm.
He pulls up outside my duplex. 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.
Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His over-whelming good looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.
Anatasia You Are My More My Love, My Life Christian.
Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.
Just remember that men are from a different planet, and you’ll be fine.
So you’ve just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn’t love you. In fact, he has odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.
Stow your twitchy palm!