Fanny Merkin Famous Quotes
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News flash, Mr Grey: This isn't 1950 or whatever. Your sexual tastes aren't as shocking or as deviant as you think.
My god, Anna," he says. "I almost lost you." He has me in his powerful grip. I've never felt this safe before.
"Never let go," I say, looking into his beautiful gray eyes.
"That could be problematic," he says. "I'll have to let you go at some point. What if I have to pee? What if you have to pee?"
"I don't care," I say.
"What if I have an important business meeting and I'm holding you and we're both covered in urine?"
I start to cry. "You're right," I say, turning my face away from his gaze. "Nothing lasts forever.
I drink coffee sometimes, but Starbucks' coffee tastes like burnt ass," I say.
"Actually, it tastes nothing like burnt ass, Anna."
"And how would you know what burnt ass tastes like?"
He laughs. "That's for me to know ... and you to find out."
I'm not sure I want to find out, but whatever.
Take your finger out of your nose, Miss Steal.
An attractive blonde behind the receptionist's desk smiles at me as I walk in. I assume she's the receptionist, because I can't think of any other reason she would be sitting behind the receptionist's desk. Unless maybe she's filling in for the real receptionist, who could be on her lunch break. But then I remember: it's almost two, and I doubt anyone takes their lunch breaks that late. So this must be the actual receptionist.
I growl with frustration at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is fifty shades messed up. Why is it so kinky and out of control? I need to stop sleeping with it wet. As I brush my long brown hair, the girl in the mirror with the brown eyes too big for her head stares back at me. Wait ... my eyes are blue! It dawns on me that I've been staring at a poster of Kristen Stewart for five minutes. My own hair is fine.
I walk through the glass doors and into the lobby, which is floor-to-ceiling glass and steel. This fascinates me to no end, because buildings back in Portland are made of grass and mud.
Walmart suddenly smells like a prosti-tot pageant.
Are you ready for my love gun?" he says.
Uh-oh. "What's a love gun? Is that a sex toy?"
"No," he says. "I'm talking about my penis."
"Oh," I say. "Then yes. Fire away
I stare at her blankly. We don't have elevators in Portland. This is my first elevator ride. How do they work exactly?
HOLY MOTHER EFFING SPARKLY VAMPIRES IS HE HOT
