Empirical son chp 17
The Lake's execution of Christian Grey Authors tour England.
Dear diary day 8: Subsisting on bread and water. The ratte-t-ratte of the drums (heels on pavement) "Behold the Lord High Executioner, nears;" my final hours dreading the coming plunge, stuck within the confines of this Black Maria (bus)meandering Mr. Dante's hellish rings of literary torments, about these cursed British Isle. Dreading the American version; If I live long enough to experience it. GOD TAKE ME NOW PLEASE!
Looking over, Jason is nearly comatose in fear, wild eyed. Openly shuttering and fearing as the storming clouds; black, glooming unleashes on us. We shake as the sounds of shoes on the steps heralds the arrival of the Chief Inquisitors. Please God no more questions, quizzes, or exuberant discussion on the negligible points of some obscure literary tome. My demise, my end please let it be swift and merciful. Take Jason first!
Never knew there were so many unheard-of books from the 18th or 19th let alone 20th century. Authors. Words, sentences, paragraphs, quotes and allegorical devices dripple on my head, suffocating the thoughts from my brain. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Doubt waterboarding could be worse than these nightly star chamber for literary knowledge. or the executioner childlike glee, nor jury of Inquisitors' devotion to stamping out blasphemy, insuring academic correct censorship (The thoughts we allow are the thoughts we agree are correct) and the securing of the degrading auto-da-fé. I refused an was banish to the Black Maria.
Slowly, creeping, tortuously, opens the door: My warden, My executioner, peeks around the doors long edge. Smiles in glee at my impenitent (not penitent) wreckage. "Christian Grey, did you spend the whole time in the bus?" Anna asks all sweet and honey. Innocents personified looks at me. Disarmed and unmanned. "It's not that bad! Everyone has had a great time, except you?" She giggles at my sorrowfulness.
Twenty demonic spawns from hell rounded out this little jaunt into this authors' aboded countryside of England. This savagely rampaging hoard of Professors, authors and post-graduate literature students and book super nerds. The twenty doesn't counts the dozen or more that wander in and out of the groups from various local colleges and Literary societies. Unleashed on civilized world. WHAT HAVE I DONE!
I could not imagine this torment and torture before this day. Belittling my knowledge, or sadly lacking literary acumen. I thought Art snobs were bad, they have nothing on these literary one's. Every night discussions so in-depth; they record them-all for later in-class knowledge sessions. I may have accidental shift the planets axis with this traveling academic library to the Muses.
We have crisscrossed the country; a crazy weaving of author houses, literature points of interest and famous book landmarks. I rented a bus and paid all the lodging. Anna is like a beautiful academic butterfly among this all-star crowd. She must see me like this among my business barbaric hoard. I hope she does. Though not as insane or manically overblown ego.
Honestly, we have a tech just to run the multi-media presentation equipment with four video projectors. Two PA on tour to arrange meals, lodging, and entrance fees. These super book addicts bring reems of citations to back up their points or destroy the others points. If my mergers & acquisitions section was this detailed, we could take over the world in a week.
I failed the first night's very public, book quiz show. Leaving me hiding from the happily drug(literature) addled hoard of academics. Days have left Jason and me, a little shell shocked and numbed.
Thought some of my accountants and statisticians were severally OCD compulsive freaks. They have nothing on this group. Fred has four techs in Seattle, working full time on scanning and loading the books for the next day on the group's tablets; Which I bought to lessen the cargo load on day two. A van behind the bus holds all the books not store-able in the bus's cargo, empty seats, and overhead bins. I wish books storage was the least of our troubles on the merry way to some rock or overlook, Mam Tor or something. Something the classic authors visited, inspired by.
One little old lady, tenured professor, and department head, out of Cambridge was nearly throw into traffic when she savagely violated the Geneva convention; mercilessly interrogating a local CPO about some obscure author's house near Wales.
Samuel had to take the bullets from several CPO's weapons, for fear of another incident against the demonic hoard. We chicken out a let the other CPO herd the book insane. Samuel let a rebellion on day four; we owe the team three-week fully paid R&R.
"Yes." I say afearing for my life and at least my family jewels. She was unhappy, I dumped the Oxford Don in that lake from that Pride and Prejudice movie on day two. Asking Anna to Skinny dip. Not on my watch, with my girl. The man was old enough to be her great-grandfather at least sixty if a day. The old pervert; any skinny dipping an it me who will be asking her and participating with HER!
Seeing the old pervert scampering by bus window. Fearfully glazing at me as he leads the hoi polloi toward the café; Tea, or ale or even heretical coffee. As the literature star chamber is unleashed for this author here at Rydal Mount and Gardens; if the tech running the presentation system is up. Yesterday a near riot because she was late, having stopped to pee. Makes me glad to be on the bus, hiding.
Tomorrow, Jason tells me a second van may be needed. We bought out eight of the tourist-trap book stores at the various houses, museums, and colleges. At that was by day three. Lucky the rest of the book store slash café stops have duplicates of what Anna's already has in the van.
"I was fine, Roz had some work for me. Honestly baby! I'm good." I lie my ass off. And she knows it and just goes with the fictions. She smiles and leans in a kiss me. I melt to the wicked torturer.
"Well, the hoard must go to Oxford for a symposium on Tolkien tomorrow. Tonight. After we drop them off, the crew is going on vacation, with just Jason and three new local CPO out of London house staying close by." She nibbles my ear; making me forget nearly everything and anything but the goddesses in my arms.
"We are going to Hovera, a nice little cottage suite in the Samling resort on Lake Windermere. For the weekend before returning to London and then Seattle." She slides on my lap, straddling me. Rubbing her girls in my face. Heavenly indeed. I see Jason escape the bus.
"Private hot tub and M&M shipped Swedish massage supplies from the hotel. We have just us, no authors, books, or tests." She smirks and gets all coyishly shy. Handing me her panties I know she was wearing this morning. Laughing, I haul her lips to mine; a kiss my lady sill; maybe make her forget the books and authors for a day or three. She slides away and head inside for the food, tea, and Literary immersion.
Jason and Samuel board the bus with food. Looking pleased this death march will soon be over.
Lake Windermere: Sunday night
The rains have fled, the stars are bright. The meal was nice, dessert a delight. The cleaning bill for the Chocolate cake ala Anna as plate, I will gladly pay. As I lounge in the hot tub, a watch her sway to the ancient rhythms from the box perched atop a wall. Instrumental hits of the seventies I think she said. She sways and twirls, angelic moves towards me, naked and freshly clean from dessert. Willing and wise in all things my lady is to me. Pose swirl my head as I watch her, these goddess of mine, love of my life. All is good and right.
She slides into the tub, into my arms and all the world is right this night. In our love. She smirks at the shadows of the trees across the sparkling lake. "Chris, I'm cold"
"Want me to turn on the heat."
"Yes, please."
I curl her in my arms and slide into her and watch this mythical creature in my arms wanton and free.
Later, after scaring the wildlife and staff. Everyone in the Country, much less the county knows I sexed up my lady and I'm really damn good at it.
Carrying my tired princess to bed, cuddle in to her. Tomorrow will come too fast. And break this idyllic weekend on this romantic's lake. She purrs my name and I let the sound sooth me to heavenly dreams of us.
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Seattle: eight days later:
I walk to the Sound, while dawn has not lessened his hold on night. The Air is salty and brisk in the winds whipping about the moored hulls and their banners. I spot a head bobbing in the waves. Dark eyes and long whisker bark at me. "Sorry bubby; no fish or food" he rolls, playfully away. Feeling his hand run up my leg from calf to shoulder. Leaning into me, lips hot with breath and warm with lusty thoughts. "Hello Preciouses?"
Turning into him, I stretch and lounge as my cloths puddle on the pier. We mate in kinky pervert ways as old as time and new as rain. He looks into my eyes and everything is perfectly alright. He rears a drives.
"BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!"
Swinging a defiant arm and smash the offending device's snooze button. "AGHHHH!" I moan. Wanting him here and not there. But he would not take no for an answer. I wanted to go to Tawain. But he moaned it was too dangerous. Beside I need to get my post grad stuff straight. And deal with his mother. The Joy of Grace Grey?
Dealing with light streaming into the room. That authors tour might not have been a good idea. As I now have post grad offers from Stanford down south, east coast Colombia and Harvard and possibly Yale. To say nothing of Oxford's Brookes University, Cambridge, University of Glasgow, University of Bologna, and Trinity College in Dublin.
With money not an issue, and my half-ass angry written thesis paper on Alice Mona Alison Caird; night two after Christian huff and dunking the Oxford Dandy Don Dr. Harrold. Several academics are demanding I finish it within the year to earn a doctor on my name.
The professors on the tour are singing my praises and shopping my thesis, to all they can corral in academies. Christian's not so favorite Oxford Don; Dr. Harrold just took over yesterday the Deanship of Brook's.
I Know the lecherous old fuddy-duddy book worm was trying to get a rise from Christian. I wonder if Chris realized Dr. Harrold would have rather skinny dipped with him then me. I might tell him when next we go to Oxford.
Carrick has Harvard flogging my email with plaintiff pleas. The ladies of the court are no better: Gwen has Colombia in NY, her Alma mater competing with Harvard to overload the Grey House email server. Or Andrea sneaking Stanford brochures into my handbag. While Barney has Dublin college and sights streaming as background on the laptop.
Grace hinting about Northwestern or Yale. With printed magazines arriving daily. Grey House resident Human resource savant, director is leaving Cambridge merchandise, her Alma mater on my desk. I may escape to Montesano this week.
Ray is back in house and working on the Roz and Gwen's American Victorian styled two-piece cradle (the cradle can be dismounted from the base. Rocker on the floor or swing on the base. Can also be locked on the base to not swing.) And an 1880 Federal style changing table dresser.
Ray plans to have them finished in about a month or three. The inlay for the dresser will take at least three weeks. I think I should wander down and restock the freezer. If nothing else lounge on the porch swing and try not to fantasize neutering a certain egotistical billionaire. Things to do and still I flounder in bed. "AGH"
The door pops as Gail wields a tray of toast and tea. Scooting up to a sitting position, Gail positions the tray and lays down next to me. "Sorry puss still in residence?" she giggles.
Sipping my tea; I give her the evil eyes glare; she giggles at my attempts at ornery. "Yes, I know you're not a fan of Jason being gone."
"It's his job, he loves it, so a cross I must bear. Now you got spoiled with wandering after the big lugger. If you want a little advice?"
Nipping on the toast I think, do I dare. "OK"
"Take a college tour, see what the reality is and not the hype."
"Only if you go with me."
"Done. Get up and dressed. Our flight to the University of Bologna leaves at one pm."
"You knew I'd say yes?"
"No, I hoped and planned. Benefit of a wealth boyfriend. Besides The menfolk won't see the benefit once the pictures start flooding the WEB! You, Me, Hot College boys, TA's and Professors touring us about the colleges and towns. Jason green monster is barely in check here. Christian, well we have seen his green ogre. THINK HE can keep away till Dublin?"
"Cupcakes for the Grey House, handmade, and home baked." I smirk at her.
"When I win, Jason and me on a South Sea Island, no phone, no cars, maxi-luxury for a week. While you toil here feeding the ogre and crew." Gail laughs.
"I'll have granola and yogurt, thirty minutes. Scoot." I roll out of bed and hustle to the shower. This week may be very good indeed.
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Snap shots and photographs:
Photo 1:University of Bologna: Botanical Garden of the University of Bologna: The photo shows Anna and Gail in a private alcove of a tropical plants Greenhouse. Several virile young men(mid-twenties) playing waiters and chorus. While a distinguished man in his thirties raise a tea cup to the ladies. Caption: Dr. Francesco Saverio Manetti Head of the Literature Post grad program wooing us over high tea at the lovely Botanical Garden of the University of Bologna.
c-pov:
The cell phone crushes in my hand. As the rest of the people in the conference room atop the sky scraper in Ho Chi Minh City. My face must tell of the green monster about to lite off. They escape as Jason walks in, He is in a full-blown green monster rage too. "WELL!"
"Roz texted me, Anna's punishment essay. The one on Alice Mona Alison Caird (he reads from his still intact cell phone) has sparked a bidding war for Miss Steele's Post Graduate studies. They are on a college tour!" He fumes
"Damn IT! We are stuck here till Saturday and today is Monday!"
"Worse, Roz is betting everyone we abandon the business and race home to the girls. If we do; we have to take all the foreign travel till the fourth of July."
"I own this company! I say who travels and when!" I fume at being put in a hole.
"Do I charter a plane?" Jason looks pissed.
"Do we know where they go next?"
"No! Just in two weeks they will be in Boston then New York. If we can hold off till Boston. Roz travels, Andrea must take Barney to meet her family, and no family Christmas for you this year, just you and anna." Jason smirks, like he's got me over a barrel.
"I bet? I can hold out to New York before you can." I smirk at his dumb ass grin. "The bet?"
"Month at Disneyworld, Gail, and Sophie, all paid, all first class, and all perks. I will let you know how and what is do able for you and anna there."
"if I win, you and Gail must take my parents to Branson for a week. You pay shows; I'll cover hotel and food, minus bar. Deal?"
"Deal. Should I show them back in?"
"Yes, I need a new phone."
"The PA just sprinted to the Apple Store to get them; we had four spares this morning; this is the last one." He smirks holding up the one in his hand. I guess he did have little green monster movement.
Photo2: University of Bologna Biblioteca comunale dell'Archiginnasio virile young men escorts pointing out highpoints.
Photo3: The ladies being feasted at the professor dining hall. More young men in tight shirts and pants.
I don't know if I can make it, to Friday. Let alone two weeks. AHGGGG! I leg sweep the sparing partners and execute a downward back fist. Scoring the point without breaking his skull. Lucky bastard.
Wednesday Photo 4: University of Marburg - Philipps-Universität Marburg: Alpinum in Botanischer Garten Marburg. The scene is several young men shirtless posing for Anna and Gail. With a couple in their Forties posing in swim wear. Caption: Dr. Kurt Jacob Boßler and his wife Erica showing off their forms with his TA's and Grad- students. Jarl, the third from the left just won the Men's Physique up to 173 cm in Luxemburg. Kurt and Erica are past champions. Kurt was nominated for a Noble in Literature ten years ago.
Several more photos show them being wined and dined about Marburg. As the white and glass building of the library.
Friday: photo 8: University of Glasgow, library, Grey with glass. A gloved Anna is seen admiring a book. She smile at the elderly professor showing while a virile young man in full kilt regalia holds the ancient fragile tome. Caption: Dr. Ian Campell, head of the Literature department show me a George Buchanan History of Scotland, Rerum Scoticarum Historia. Possible Ray distance cousin from Berwickshire, Professor of America Literature by way of Princeton; Charles Steele showing his Hume regalia, sexy legs say Gail.
Jason is sweating bullets. Barney has sent photo-shopped pictures of us in kilt and regalia. Everyone is pushing us to win their bet in the pool. It must get easier.
Sunday: Photo 12: Oxford's Brookes University: Dr. Harold, the conniver. Showing off the Bodleian Library to Anna. Several muscle-bound TA and Doctoral Candidates hover about my girl.
Wednesday: Cambridge University: Newnham College Dean, I recognized professor from the Author tour. Watching boatman under Bridge of Sighs: Caption: Watching the undergrads rowing.
Several more pictures show her being wined and dined around the town.
I don't know how I can last much longer. Roz is betting I jet to Dublin any minutes. Sitting here in Dubia talking about a partnership in aqua culture farming in the gulf; they are doing great things with mangrove erosion and land reclamation.
Saturday: Trinity College in Dublin. Campanile lite up at night: Anna and Gail being escorted by more young, virile muscle-bound men from the caption the Post Grad for the Literature. Caption. Just spent a grueling day EU/EFTA exam: aced it! Nearly failed the Duolingo English Test (DET) as my America patois is a terrible colloquial of proper British vernacular. Qualifying me to attend here and any England Island institutes.
Several more photos show their Sunday; more muscle-bound pretty boys hoovering about her supposedly escorting them around the colleges. They opened the bloody library for her. Because she sails for Boston Monday afternoon.
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Logan Airport: Boston. International terminal. Causeway for flight from Dublin Ireland. Perk of being s frigging billionaire. She walks out of the hallway. I rush her, sweeping her into my arms. She is everything. Kissing her; till security push us along to a VIP section as Press and tourist flash pictures of the four of us. Latter Gail tease Jason about failing to guard me. As he lip-locked her.
"I let him off as the torment was too much for us. Don't every do that again!"
"Do what?"
"You know What!"
"OH! The boys escorting us to attend their university? Moi! Why you know; I prefer a man, not boys: copper haired ogre type of man." Anna asks all innocent and prim. Like she did not salt my wounds. I growl and she kiss me. A damn good trade.
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For those who can't do anything but whine without names. London town chapter is about them coming to terms with their roles in the relationship. And Christian realization that Anna can be independent and he can still keep her safe without micro managing her (suffocating) The three travel chapters are simple. Croatia is about parallel Anna life. Sweden is about parallel Christian life. Germany; Christian learning to rely on Anna to carry them. In Sweden Christian see Anna as carrying him, and Anna being independent and confident interacting with and for Christian