50 shades of gray

Chapter 25 - A Graceful Exit?

By the time the waitress comes for our orders, Christian is holding my right leg open with one hand and Kate has her leg hooked over my left. This is the only contact I'm given, but the tension in between my thighs keeps increasing as they ever-so-slowly spread me wider. I feel like they're going to tear me apart if they don't stop soon... or touch me.

I'm finding more and more often that when I'm aroused I'm completely incapable of functioning. I wonder how anyone ever survives road head. Reading the dessert menu is just not happening.

Thankfully, Christian orders me flourless raspberry chocolate torte with mascarpone whipped cream (yum!), but when Elliot tries to order for Kate, she completely blows up at him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, you misogynist piece of..."

"Christian did it! And Ana didn't call him a misogynist..."

"Well, they're dating," she snaps. "You'll notice he didn't attempt to order for me, did he?"

To his credit, he looks appropriately abashed, though he seems like he wants to raise an issue with the dating comment. Finally, she orders herself a glass of whiskey, handing her menu graciously to the waitress.

Kate's tirade has clearly got her blood boiling. She squeezes my thigh hard, making me nearly gasp.

"Let's dance," she says. It's less of an invitation and more of an order. Her leg is still firmly clamped over my upper thigh and I look to Christian. Will he let us up to dance? He planned for this, but as he hadn't expected Elliot here, it's not really clear how this will play out. He seems to be considering it.

"Chris, you have to let us out," she says, eyeing him. "C'mon!" She's basically bouncing on the bench, stretching me as she does so.

Reluctantly, Christian lets go of my leg and stands up from the booth. Now that I'm out from Christian's death grip, Kate untangles herself from me and I can feel my thighs burning from the release of tension.

"Would you ladies care for dance partners?" he asks, looking over to his brother as Kate and I awkwardly bounce along the bench seat to stand up ourselves. I stand up first, Christian holding out his hand and pulling me close to him, our hips just touching.

"Sure," Kate says when she bounces up at my side, grabbing Christian's free hand. "I'll dance with you first, Chris. Ana, you take Elliot." And like that she pulls Christian away and I find myself dragged behind her by Elliot. Not the situation I thought I would find myself in.

The music playing is some kind of techno euro-style something or other that was once a popular love song before it was mutilated into the form dance music. The tempo is upbeat, though, which is just fine by me if I'm going to be dancing with Elliot.

Now, I consider myself a bit of a dance spaz. I am the dancing equivalent of a shower singer: I only do it alone where no one can judge me. I can handle the bop side-to-side in public and that's about it. But Elliot is full-on dancing. He's got eyes closed, head back, hand movements, spins, dips, muscle flexes, even a couple hip thrusts. I'm sticking to my bop. The bop is good. The bop is safe. The bop is un-embarrassing and unobtrusive. No one gets mad at you for the bop. No one assumes you want to sleep with them for the bop.

"So. Ana," he leans in and whisper-shouts in my ear. "I'm flattered, but I'm sort of seeing someone."

No one except Elliot it seems.

"What?" No, but seriously. What?

"You must have a lot of pent-up sexual frustration since you're dating my brother. He's a bit of a prude."