A/N: Greetings to all of you amazing readers. I know that it has been a long time since I posted the last chapter. I have had a bit of writer's block. Hopefully, finally getting this chapter in print will be the creative impetus that I need to keep going. Thank you for waiting and for your patience.
I can't wait to read your reviews to hear what you think of the reappearance of the crazy Ms. Leila Williams. Thank you for all of your reviews, follows, and favorites. Your enthusiasm is what keeps me going!
Chapter 22
Meanwhile, Back at Home…
Ethan's revelations about what Christian and Elliott are doing in the treehouse inspire me to find something worthwhile on which to focus my energies. After spending several hours bullet journaling, I find myself tidying up the treehouse. Gail usually takes care of doing Christian's washing, but I volunteer to assume the task. She does not need to be hand washing our loved up bed linens. Using the porch railing, I hang the sheets to dry. I sweep out the living areas and wipe down the indoor parts of the bathroom.
Christian and I have not discussed whether or not I should move my belongings over from the beach villa. I'm pretty sure that's what Christian wants, but I decide to wait until we discuss it. To be honest, I am sick of wearing my few outfits over and over again. I usually rotate through one of the few tank tops that I brought. They grow more threadbare with each hand washing. Thank the goddesses that Mia and Kate have given me extra bathing suits. I have never considered myself materialistic, but I would welcome an airdrop from Christian's personal shopper right about now. Wearing Christian's t- shirts and boxer briefs is a welcome change.
Shoes are a problem for me. Since I do not have any sandals, I ended up removing the laces from my Chuck Taylor's. They are easy to slip on and off, but they are never fully dry or without sand. What I would give for some good, old Walmart flip-flops. More often than not, I find myself going barefoot these days.
I set to organizing the books by author on the lone bookshelf in Christian's suite when I note two things. First, all of these books are British classics AKA my favorites. Second, tucked between Conrad's Heart of Darkness (of which I appreciate the parallels to our current situation) and Wolfe's To the Lighthouse, I find LaLa's Foolish manuscript. This is the copy that Christian had at Escala. His handwritten notes appear throughout. I sit down with the manuscript and a pencil. I am determined to see it through Christian's eyes. Did Leila really put telltale clues about Christian throughout the story?
Hours later, I finish organizing my notes. The only break I took was when I ran over to the big house long enough to find an unabridged dictionary in the little library with the billiards table. After spending the day reading through Leila's manuscript, pouring through Christian's notes, and using the dictionary to cross-reference every name and place, I have one final question. How could I have been so blind? Foolish is practically screaming Christian's name for all to read. Clues to Leila's association with my Fifty are woven throughout the text to create a fine lace that does little to mask the truth it veils.
Without the help of the internet, I set about analyzing Foolish as though I am writing a college thesis on the text. My first step is to analyze the clues in plain sight. Using my background in literature studies, I start with the names of the main characters. I start with the obvious. Using the unabridged dictionary, I look up the names of the main characters and am surprised to learn that Darci means 'dark.' Leila means 'dark beauty.' Vilhelm is the old German version of William. So much for my theory that Darci was a nod to Jane Austen's beloved Mr. Darcy. Any freshman lit major could see that Darci Vilhelm is code for Leila Williams. Furthermore, Karson is translated into 'a Christian.' Blakemore translates into 'one from the grey marshes.' A Christian from the grey marshes is an awful lot like Christian Grey, I'm just saying…
Son of a biscuit, Leila could not be more obvious. Not to mention LaLa Roberts is the least creative pen name ever for an author named Leila Williams. I mean, really?!
With the obvious dissections of the characters names, I think about the title to the book. Is the word foolish a clue? The only time I have ever heard Christian use the word fool is when he and Taylor gave me a ride home from Kate and Elliott's engagement party.
"Love is for fools, Ms. Steele. It is simply a misguided delusion used to explain away the chaos that is caused when desire and passion drive a person to lose all control."
Leila wanted Christian to love her but maybe he was preaching that love is for fools. It seems plausible that she would then name her revenge story Foolish. Oh my goddesses, this woman is crazy wrapped in a shroud of psycho. After less than an hour of basic-level investigating, I can see that Leila's book is the ultimate revenge. Disguising itself as a powerful story of self-healing and personal empowerment, Foolish is actually a conduit for outing a Dominant who didn't love her.
A cursory run through of some other names from the book draws more parallels between Karson and Christian. In the book, the eccentric recluse Karson lives on an isolated estate named Arpeggio. Arpeggio means 'scale' which in Spanish translates to Escala, the real life name of Christian's apartment building.
Something about the story that has always made me uncomfortable is how Darci let Karson hurt her far beyond ways that she finds sexually arousing. She does so in a misguided hope that pleasing him through BDSM will make him fall in love with her. This does not gel with the Christian that I know. The Christian I know is so sensitive to my hurt and my pain. How could he also be the callous Karson who gets his rocks off by whipping and beating the mentally ill Darci? LaLa paints the picture as though Christian is feeding off her pain and torture.
When Christian originally told me about his interest in BDSM, it was not because bondage and sadism aroused him. Instead, he was attracted to the lifestyle because it promised him a way to have sex with partners who were willing to honor his fear of touch as a hard limit. He allowed his partners to introduce other aspects of BDSM. In essence, Christian wanted to have sex without being touched. He found partners who agreed with this stipulation. In exchange, he was willing to participate in other activities such as flogging and whipping when a submissive found these kinks arousing. As he was exposed to more aspects of BDSM, Christian began to adopt the techniques that he found mutually gratifying. Once he saw how using a flogger enhanced a subs sexual experience, Christian perfected his flogging techniques to include them in his BDSM tool box, so to speak.
Thinking back to my initial research into BDSM, nothing about the relationship in Foolish is safe, same, or consensual. Isn't that what originally drew Christian to this lifestyle? It was a safe, sane, and consensual way for him to participate in sexual activity while respecting his fear of touch. He was drawn to the bondage component. He added in other practices to appease his experienced subs.
That's another thing that bothers me. LaLa paints Darcy as BDSM-naive at the start of her relationship. Christian told me that he was only with experienced subs. That's the only way he could guarantee that his subs would have the control to observe his rules about touch.
Christian was attracted to BDSM because he could set hard limits while pursuing sexual relationships that were safe, sane, and consensual for both partners. Using the safe, sane, and consensual barometer, the Darci Vilhelm character becomes much less sympathetic. She is clearly violating the trust of her Dom when she fails to communicate her building mental illness. Darci deceives Karson into believing that she finds their increasingly dark BDSM practices sexually arousing. She hides her growing insanity. Certainly, Foolish paints the picture of unsafe BDSM that is questionably consensual and mentally devastating.
When I first read Foolish, I was impressed by Darci's inner strength and path to mental health. I freaking wanted to be Darci when I channeled my inner warrior and hopped the plane to Dubai. The LaLa Roberts that I spent time with at The Mile High Club was the embodiment of Darci. The Leila Williams that Sawyer and I accompanied to New York was absolutely lock-her-in the-attic crazy. There was nothing self-realized about Leila's mental health. She was clearly circling the drain to crazy town with a big helping of drinks-too-much and a side of stalker-ville. Perhaps, Darci Vilhelm is the person that Leila Williams wants to be. Too bad her real life plays out like the sequel to Single, White Female.
Christian's handwritten notes throughout the manuscript point out things like her dead-on description of the red room of pleasure at Escala. The text describes the layout of his apartment in exacting detail. Heck, Karson's staff are caricatures of Gail and Taylor.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I feel a headache coming on. I decide to take a break from my detective work to go see what Christian is doing in the treehouse office.
"Why is Elliott laughing?" I ask Christian. I am snuggled up in his lap while he works at saving the world through his Mac Book.
"Oh, he's got one of his monitors set to the Leila Williams Shit Show," Christian chuckles.
"The what?"
Chiristian grins sheepishly. "Let's just say that we found Leila and she is providing my brother with endless hours of entertainment. "
Holy Batman! "You found Leila? Where is she?"
Christian chuckles some more. "Go see for yourself," he says, nodding in Elliott's direction.
Christian follows me over to Elliott who is sitting in front of several monitors. The one on the far right appears to be a live CCTV feed from the Escala penthouse. Sure as shrimp, there is Leila in what appears to be one of Christian's undershirts and a pair of his boxer briefs. Hum...eerily similar to what I'm wearing.
"What is happening here? Why is Leila in your apartment?"
Christian wraps his arms around me. "Leila has managed to break into Escala. When she did so, she activated the perimeter defense system which effectively locked her in the apartment."
I remember the night of the Seattle riots. Christian's security must have activated the same system to keep us safe.
"She's stuck in your apartment?"
"Yep," Elliott replies with an impish grin of true delight. "The crazy bat is living out her psycho wet dreams - she has full range of Christian's place. She doesn't even care that she can't get out."
"What? Isn't she going to starve in there?"
"Nope. There are enough rations in the panic room to last for months," Elliott explains.
"Can't you call the police or your private mercenaries or something? They could get her out."
"The only way that the apartment will unseal is if either Taylor or I use the fingerprint scanner to release the lock down," Christian explains. "The system is designed so that if someone were to break in while we are away, the thieves would not be able to make a getaway. They would remain locked up until we return and the police can apprehend them."
"What if she is in there so long that she runs out of supplies"
"Doubtful. The system has a 90-day auto shut off feature. If she is still there in 3 months, the locks will automatically disengage. If that happens, the police will be waiting on the other side of the door to arrest her for breaking and entering."
Elliott interrupts Christian with a booming belly laugh. "Aww, shit bro. It's time for Leila's morning snack. What do you think she's in the mood for today? My money is on your shower gel."
"No way, Ell. She hasn't touched that all week. I'm betting she is in the mood for a swig of aftershave."
Elliott rubs his hands together. The three of us are riveted to the screen as we watch Leila enter Christian's bathroom. It's a good thing Christian wants to move, because this psycho is getting her bad ju-ju all over his digs.
We watch as Leila goes to the master bathroom vanity. She picks up Christian's aftershave and takes a long whiff of it. She puts it down and heads to the shower. She leaves the water off. I watch as she smells his body wash and then his shampoo. She looks like she is going to put the shampoo back on the ledge but she pauses, unscrews the cap, and proceeds to take a massive gulp of the toiletry.
"EHR MAH GAWD! This is so, so, so CRAZY!" I say. "This bitch is all about the shock and awe."
Elliott and Christian both laugh. Elliott explains to me that every day, Leila takes a drink of one of Christian's grooming products. The two brothers have a running tab of daily bets on what she will pick that day.
This train wreck is fascinating. Soon, Christian returns to his own computer while I pull a chair up alongside Elliott to continue watching the Leila Williams Shit Show.
Elliott explains to me just how batshit crazy this hussy really is. She is taking certifiable to a whole new low. Everything we are watching is being recorded to use as evidence once Leila gets out of the apartment.
Elliott takes pride in showing me what he calls 'the highlight reel' that he has compiled. It is condensed clips of her oddest moments in the apartment. I watch clip after clip of this loopy broad escalating her crazies. She sleeps in Christian's bed. She snuggles up with one of his sneakers. All night long she keeps sticking her nose in the shoe to smell his stinky, sweaty toe jam.
When she eats, she goes through great lengths to set an elaborate tablescape for two. She serves two plates. She spends the meal eating and talking to her nonexistent dinner guest. I feel confident her imaginary friend answers to the name Christian Grey.
Leila masturbates...a lot. She isn't your typical pour yourself a glass of wine and fire up your BOB kind of self-satisfier. Oh no, this bag of nuts takes masturbation straight onto the highway to crazy town
Much like her meals, Leila sets the scene for her self-pleasure. She goes through the same routine any girl goes through when planning an epic hook up. She showers, shaves all her lady bits, lotions up, styles her hair, does her make up which includes using my favorite come fuck me red lip gloss and dons my favorite light blue agent provocateur demi bra and matching lacy undies. Well, they aren't my favorite any more… She gets Christian's room all romanced up with candles and such. She then gets what Elliott tells me is a pair of Christian's dirty underwear from the hamper.
She lies in the bed and calls out to her imaginary Christian. Now here is when things get really bizarre. Leila is acting like someone else is really in the bedroom with her. She is on all fours talking and going through the standard acts of seduction. She is giving her invisible date coquettish looks and enticing him to join her on the bed.
I will never, ever be able to unsee see what Leila does next. This woman needs a one way ticket to the sanitorium. Leila begins to masturbate. The whole time she is talking and clearly acting out a scene in her head. She has some sort of short whip that she uses to lash her back. She whips herself and screams over and over. Her screams are those of building arousal. I know that I should look away, but I just can't. I am glued to this trainwreck.
Once her back is covered in red welts, Leila pulls out something Elliott calls 'Big Daddy.' It appears to be the most ginormous dildo of all times. This thing would rip a normal woman in half. With no further foreplay, Leila gets on her knees, shoves this mammoth beast into her vajayjay and proceeds to bounce up and down on it like she is riding in the Kentucky Derby. For all that is holy, this woman is from another planet. Leila rides Big Daddy while holding Christian's underwear over her nose and mouth. She appears to scream through a massive orgasm and keeps going. Just when I almost will myself to look away, Leila appears to finally tire herself out. She falls forward and quickly passes out face first on the bed. Big Daddy is still inside of her. Yeah, Christian's gonna have to get a new bed.
The other scenes on the highlight reel don't even compare to what I have just witnessed. Leila alternates between wearing Christian's clothes and wearing mine. She spends hours sitting at the bathroom vanity with a framed picture of me. It appears like she is trying to copy my hair and make-up from the picture. She spends hours applying makeup, removing it, and reapplying it. Sometimes, she pretends to be holding a phone and takes selfies of her finished work. What in the actual fuck is this single, white psycho doing?
At some point Leila collects all of the pictures of Christian from around the apartment. She cuts away any images of me or his family. She tapes them to the wall above the table in the foyer. On the table, she makes a shrine of sorts. When not using them to masturbate, she keeps Christian's dirty underwear here. She also has another one of his shoes, a pair of his worn blue jeans, his old toothbrush, and one of the cocktail glasses that he uses to sip Bourbon while working at his desk. Leila spends a lot of time burning candles at the shrine.
I am going to need to do a ton of processing over what Elliott has just shown me. I keep shaking my head as I go to pour myself a tall glass of wine. I doubt that all of the alcohol on Barabai is going to help me to understand everything that I saw.