She looks at me with a mixture of impatience and amusement that really makes me want to take her over my knee. But probably not while Mrs Jones is hovering in the background.
"Christian! I'm not saying that!"
"Not saying what?"
Sometimes I have no fucking idea what she's talking about: God, she's adorable.
"Christian, I'm not going to promise to obey you!"
And all the air leaves my lungs. What the fuck? Calm, Grey, calm. She's teasing you.
"Of course you are: that's what the vows say. Women have been saying that for hundreds of years."
"Well, I'm not saying that. I want us to write our own vows - special and unique to us. And you can bet your R8 that I'm not going to be obeying you. Honestly, Christian!"
"Yes, you fucking are!"
The words come out louder than I'd meant. From the corner of my eye I see Mrs Jones beating a hasty retreat.
"No. I. Am. Not," says Ana, a mulish expression on her face.
"Yes, you are!" I repeat, staring her down.
She quails slightly, then squares her shoulders.
"I am not a submissive," she says, in a scarily quiet voice. "I never was and I never will be. Deal with it, Christian."
And she gets up and walks out of the room.
What the fuck just happened?
