“We’re going to play a game, Anastasia.”
Christian has that sultry, sexy look on his face, and he’s using that low tone of voice that gets me all fired up… down there.
“Yes, sir. What game are we going to play?” I imagine the fun we will have, the punishment he might give me with the paddle, the whip, or just his bare hands on my flesh.
He looks up at me, his hair ruffled and his eyes dark.
“Scrabble” he whispers. I try to remember what the scrabble is - is it the name of one of his whips, or was it what he wants me to do, scrabble around the floor on all fours on a leash or something? He walks over to the cupboard and leans in, bringing out a wooden box. He sets it down on the bed, and opens it. He takes out a square, chequered board and a bag of - hang on, he means actual Scrabble?
He reaches into the bag, and I wonder if there’s some kind of sexual gadget in there that he wants me to put inside myself, or something sordid like that.
“Close your eyes. Hold out your hand.”
“Yes, sir.” This is exciting! Wow. Damn.
Cold, hard, smooth squares hit my palm. “You can open them.” The squares are an off-white colour, with - wait, it fucking is Scrabble. Unless he wants me to stick them up my -
“Okay you know the rules, right?” He doesn’t look like the Christian I know. He looks like an excited little boy, not the sexy, strict master I’m used to.
“Well, yes. ‘The Submissive must obey-’”
“No, not those rules!” he roars. “For this game!” He nods at the board. I just nod back at him.
“I’ll go first.” He lines his letters up in the little grey holder, ponders for a minute and then puts one solitary letter down in the middle of the board. ‘I’.
For someone as verbose as he normally is, that is kind of a let down. As he reaches into the bag to replace the tile, I study my letters, which I have arranged alphabetically. ‘AEENNST’.
I ponder for a moment, and then smile. I create the word ‘INTENSE’ horizontally off of his ‘I’.
He cocks his head to the side and smiles at me. I get this game, now! It’s Scrabble, but sexy! Sexcrabble! Okay I need to work on that.
He maintains eye contact with me as he lays the next set of letters down. Leading vertically down onto the first ‘E’, he spells out the word ‘LOVE’. Wow. Oh my god. He’s never this romantic normally. I decide to be more forthcoming. I had somehow managed to pick out the letters ‘X’ and ‘E’ in my last handful of letters, which I lay under the ‘S’.
‘Sex’ I whisper to him, even though I know he can read what it says. I feel my body heat up with anticipation, both for the hardcore session we’re bound to have after this board game and for the statement of his love for me when he inevitably lays down the word ‘YOU’. It could only fit in one place, using the ‘O’ in 'LOVE'.
Sure enough, he leans over and starts to lay his tiles on the board, although I can’t see the word just yet. My heart starts to pound in my chest. Holy crap! Oh Christian, you’re finally becoming the romantic I always -
‘KNOBS’
I look up at him.
“Yeah, knobs!” he says, punching the air. He gleefully counts up the points. “Triple letter score on the 'B', that’s 9, then 8 from the others, I make that 17 points. Now get out of my house.”
I am stunned. Damn. Oh my god. Holy crap.
“Didn’t you get the message? I was hardly subtle, Anastasia. I love me some knobs.” Oh my god.
“You’re… you’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“Nope.” He’s smiling, that handsome, crooked smile. I want him to take me in his arms and tell me this is all a joke. “Remember when you interviewed me, and you hadn’t done your research? You asked me if I was gay, and I was so outraged that you hadn’t done your research that, well… I decided you needed to be punished.”
“I don’t understand…” Oh my god. Damn!
“Yeah, you were all ‘Meh meh meh, are you gay?’ so I thought, fuck it, I’ll make her suffer.”
I sit for a moment, entirely naked and suddenly very aware of it.
“But wait, what about your Mrs Robinson? Elena? Was that all a lie?
“Oh no, that was all true. Except his name was Simon Garfunkel - honestly, you couldn’t make it up.”
I pick up my clothes from the floor and pull them on as I run through his house to the front door, which I fling open and wait for a moment, listening to his cackling laughter as it echoes through the house. I run down the drive and fumble in my handbag for my car keys. Christian appears on the balcony, still completely naked.
“Tell your friends,” he bellows, “tell them how much I love the peen!”
With tears in my eyes, I start the engine, and notice there is something stuck in my windscreen wipers. The grey tie. I reach round onto the windscreen and unhook it, bringing it to my face for one last moment of Christian’s scent. It smells like ink. I look down and notice there is writing on the tie. I unravel it and spread it onto the dashboard.
“FUCK YOU ANASTASIA HA HA HA”
I lean my head back against the headrest, and weep.
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