K is for Krispy Kreme

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Christian

"Hey, big guy."

Bastille's greeting is laced with humor, but it's completely at my expense. He can't stop chiding me over my recent weight gain of four pounds.

Anastasia extolls my physical attributes and reassures me of her unending attraction. My clothes still fit well enough, but I'm a numbers guy, and numbers don't lie. Not only have I gained weight, but my BMI has climbed from 16.2 to 16.9.

To remedy the situation, I'm doubling down on the workouts. Bastille is here to put me through my paces.

"I've known you for five years, Grey, and your weight has remained constant. Is this one of those sympathetic pregnancy things?"

"What's that?"

"Didn't anyone tell you? It's when the expectant dad gains weight along with the mom."

Shit. I had no idea.

"Anastasia's appetite is through the roof." There's more to it, but I'm not sharing that with Bastille. He doesn't need to know the extent of her increased appetites, and how she makes a happy meal of my dick every chance she gets. "She's been eating larger portions and I've been indulging alongside her."

"Cut back on that shit. It's not good for either one of you."

"She's been eating a very healthy diet. But even too much of a good thing can be unhealthy, I suppose."

"How are the pregnancy yoga classes going for Ana?"

"She seems to enjoy them…she looks fantastic." Anastasia is round, ripe, and firm, perfect for the picking.

I love her big belly, and what it represents.

She's mine.

"Snap out of it, gordito. We've got work to do. Gimme your best plank. Two minutes," Bastille orders.

As I assume the proper posture, my mind is on other more appealing positions.

XXXXXXX

It's half past six when I receive her text.

Your needy wife misses you. XOXOXOX

Oh, baby, I miss you, too.

At your service. Leaving soon.

"Is Ana okay?" Ros asks, knowing exactly who I'm texting.

"More than okay. We can pick this up tomorrow, Ros. We have spouses to tend."

"I like this new side of you, Grey."

"Don't get too comfortable," I tease her. "This may just be a newlywed phase."

"Somehow I don't think so." Ros chucks me gently under the chin with her fist. "Have a great evening, Hoss."

Shit, even Ros knows I'm packing on the pounds.

I scoop up the black box tied with white satin ribbon. Inside are a dozen long-stemmed blush roses. I hope my wife likes them.

XXXXXXX

"She's in the bedroom, Mr. Grey," Gail says. "Dinner will be ready in a half hour. Shall I put the flowers in water?"

"Not yet. I want to surprise Ana with them."

I approach our room in stealth mode, because sometimes Anastasia takes catnaps before dinner. The door is ajar, which is out of the ordinary. We always keep the door to our room closed, whether we're in it or not.

I stop in my tracks when I'm hit with my wife's soft, low moans. These are my sounds. They belong only to me.

A black fury bubbles in my blood. Anastasia knows masturbation is off the table. All her orgasms belong to me.

I kick the door open. She startles, wide-eyed, wearing the guiltiest of expressions. A crinkly food wrapper flutters off the bed.

"What the fuck!" She's not cheating on me with a vibrator. She's cheating on me with a goddamn donut. "Answer me. What the hell are you doing?"

As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I know I've done something wrong.

Anastasia's hackles rise at my accusatory tone.

"What does it look like?" She scowls, then licks something sticky off the pad of her middle finger. Her right hand holds a glazed donut. Thank fuck there's only one bite missing. I've arrived in time to rescue her from eating the whole thing.

"It looks like you're sneaking around behind my back with a donut. That's what it looks like. I thought we discussed this. It was settled."

Damn that Bob. Not only did he expose Ana to that golf pro last summer, but he also introduced her to Krispy Kreme.

Last week Ana suddenly developed a donut craving, specifically for the Krispy Kreme original glazed version. The damn things carry two hundred empty calories and cause insulin levels to spike, neither of which is good for either Anastasia or the baby.

"In your mind it was settled," Anastasia sniffles. "You don't even try to understand. It hurt my feelings when I asked you to take me to Krispy Kreme and you refused. You're completely unreasonable."

Anastasia tosses the partially eaten donut into its bag, wads it up, then throws the entire thing at me, hitting me in the chest. She pummels her pillow, collapses into a heap, and weeps.

Her hormones are going to be the death of me.

"Baby…I brought you flowers. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, baby. I'm just trying to take care of you."

My beautiful girl whimpers and sobs. She crosses way into ugly cry territory, but she still looks beautiful to me.

"You're…treating…me…like…one of…those girls," she hiccups.

What! I never want Anastasia to feel like a submissive.

"No, baby, no. I've never thought of you that way. Please don't cry. It hurts so much to see you sad."

I rub her back while she sobs and sniffles. I dig my handkerchief out of my pocket.

"Blow." I tell her, holding the handkerchief to her nose.

She complies, producing a weak honk. I use the corners of the cloth to dab her eyes and cheeks.

She's on her side, facing away from me, eyes closed. I lie down next to her, slipping an arm under her so I can touch our baby bump, while I rub her back with the other.

After a few minutes she rolls over to face me.

"I'm so mad at you," she says. Her lips are pursed in defiance.

"I can see that. I'm sorry." I do hope she knows how sorry I am. I hate seeing her like this.

"Tell me what you're sorry for. Show me you understand how I feel."

This isn't about a donut. It's about so much more.

Use your words, Grey, and tell her.

"I'm sorry for not understanding. As for how you feel, I guess you feel disrespected," I stroke her shiny hair. "You're mine. I take care of what's mine. But I can't take care of you, if you disregard your own safety."

The crack whore was mine. I tried to take care of her, but she wouldn't do her part.

"Do you think you're married to an idiot? I'm very safety conscious. I haven't had sweets since our wedding reception. Then you tell me I can't indulge my craving for one measly donut. You insult me as a mother when you imply I don't provide proper nutrition for our unborn child. You're damn right, I feel disrespected. I'm not a sub. You can't tell me what to eat."

"I'm sorry, baby. Truly." And I am.

"You say you want to give me the world, but you won't allow me a donut. I hope you're happy, because you ruined the experience for me."

She rises from the bed and squats down for the paper bag, now imprinted with gooey stains.

"I'm sure Gail has dinner ready by now. I'll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes. Can you please throw this away for me?" She hands me the bag and disappears into the bathroom.

Out of curiosity, I open the bag and examine the now squashed pastry. I take a bite, and feel ashamed for having deprived Ana of this small pleasure. The donut is a perfect blend of fat and sugar, and I quickly devour the remains.

A few minute later, Anastasia joins me at the kitchen island.

Gail's chicken chasseur is delicious, but neither of us eats much. We push our food around in silence. I feel like an ass. I've made my wife so miserable, she's lost her appetite.

Anastasia clears our plates and loads them into the dishwasher.

"I'm getting fat," I announce, unsure why I've voiced this aloud.

Anastasia turns off the spigot and takes a step toward me. Her hands rest on her growing belly. She cocks her head to the side, looking me over. Then she bursts into laughter.

The full, rich melody of her amusement is contagious. I find myself laughing along with her. She leans against me for support, giggling into my shoulder. At this point I don't care if she's laughing at me or with me. I'm just thankful she's not crying.

"That's one way to break the tension," she says, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Christian Grey, you'll never be fat."

"Bastille thinks it's some kind of expectant father weight gain."

"Maybe so, but you look delicious to me," She licks her lips just before kissing my neck. She nuzzles my neck, brushing her silky hair against my jawline. Shit, that feels good. "Thank you for the roses. They're beautiful."

"I'm sorry, baby, for all the stupid stuff earlier. Let's get out of here, go for a drive."

"Where?"

"I'm looking for another first. I thought maybe we could take the R8 for a spin."

Anastasia lets out an approving squeal and giggle.

"I look a mess. Give me ten," she says.

"You're perfect exactly the way you are. Grab your jacket."

XXXXXXX

Traffic is light this time of night, so it only takes twenty minutes to reach our destination.

"Christian!" Ana squeezes my thigh. I've made her happy. "The hot donut sign is turned on. They're good, but even better when they're hot. You've got to try one."

The partially-eaten, broken donut I scarfed down earlier will remain my little secret.

"Decaf, black." I tell the pimply faced boy. "A milk and two original glazed."

"Six nineteen," he tells me. I give him a twenty.

"Another first," I confess to Ana. "This is my first time using a drive-thru. I've been a passenger with El a couple of times, but I've never done this myself."

"I've turned you into a common man, Mr. Gray. I hope you're okay with that."

"Oh, baby, you have no idea what it means to me."

"Pull over here," Ana points at some empty spaces under a street lamp in the parking lot. She clutches the warm bag to her chest. "Let's eat them now, while they're hot."

I take a donut from the bag, and break off a small piece.

"Open up." I pop the sticky sweetness into her mouth. "If you're going to moan and groan over a piece of dough, it will be me feeding it to you. You are not allowed to make those sounds when I'm not with you."

"Oh, my darling man, please don't be jealous of a donut."

"These donuts are like crack, so you should understand how upset I was when I got home and found you having a foodgasm."

"I love you," she says, and I feel the heady sensation of her warm, moist lips on my neck.

"Again," I tell her, holding up another piece of donut. She uses her tongue to pull it into her mouth.

"I only want one more bite. You eat the rest. I know you're on a diet, watching that girlish figure of yours, Mr. Grey, but eating an extra half donut won't do you any harm."

"You're a bad influence," I tease. "And I never thought I'd say that about you."

I give her the third bite.

"Mmm." She moans in contentment, savoring the last portion, then washing it down with a small plastic bottle of milk. "Thank you for bringing me here. It was a sacrifice and I love you for it."

It really wasn't a sacrifice, but I want Anastasia to know I do want to please her. Sometimes I lose my way, but her happiness means everything.

"You didn't have much dinner." I'll always worry about her nutrition.

"If I get hungry, I promise I'll eat something healthy. What do you think of Krispy Kreme, Mr. Grey?"

"I shouldn't like these things, but I do."

Anastasia gives me a tight-lipped smile of satisfaction.

"Everything in moderation, my darling."

XXXXXXX