Fifty Shades of Dorian Gray Read Free Page A

just watching me with those mysterious eyes of his. For the first time in my life, I saw in the plain woodland the wonder I had always looked for and always missed.”
    Helen clapped in excitement. “Extraordinary! I must see this man! How old is he? He looks very young.”
    â€œHe’s actually two years younger than me!”
    â€œAnd, I assume, unspoken for?”
    Rosemary blushed. “We don’t talk about such things.”
    â€œOh, innocent little sister,” said Helen, coiling a strand of Rosemary’s chestnut hair around her finger. “And you’re so beautiful. Tell me, is he very fond of you?”
    Rosemary squirmed, the all too familiar sensation of desire coursing through her. She crossed and uncrossed her legs.
    â€œHe likes me,” she said after a pause in which she fought down the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “I know he likes me. But he seems to take a real delight in giving me pain. The things he says sometimes. He’s got . . .” and she paused again, the butterflies in her stomach now fluttering out of fear. She sought the right words, ones that wouldn’t provoke Helen. If she told the truth, even jaded Helen would reel with shock. “He just has a very different approach to the world than me.”
    To Rosemary’s relief, Helen didn’t inquire further. “You’re under the spell of his beauty, certainly. And your art will last longer than his beauty. You will probably tire of him before he tires of you. It’s summer now, the days are apt to linger. But soon it will be fall and then winter and the infatuation will die out.”
    â€œHelen, don’t talk like that,” scolded Rosemary. “As long as I live, Dorian Gray will dominate me. You can’t feel what I feel. You change too often.”
    â€œAh, Rosemary,” said Helen, lighting yet another cigarette. “That is exactly why I can feel it. Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love; it is the faithless who know love’s tragedies.”
    They sat quietly, with Helen smoking in her self-satisfied way, when suddenly she grabbed Rosemary’s arm, her eyes huge with revelation.
    â€œI just remembered!” she cried. “I’ve heard the name Dorian Gray before!”
    Rosemary’s heart stammered and plunged. “What? Where?”
    â€œAt my aunt’s house. She told me she had discovered a wonderful young man who was going to help her in East End, and that his name was Dorian Gray. She didn’t mention how good-looking he was—though she did mention that he was earnest and had a beautiful nature. I at once pictured to myself a creature with spectacles and lank hair, horribly freckled, and tramping about on huge feet. I wish I had known it was him!”
    Rosemary was nervous thinking of Dorian out on the town. There she was being foolish again. What did it matter to her what he did or who he was with? She couldn’t be with him at all times—one could even say she shouldn’t be with him in the first place.
    â€œWhy ever are you so pale, Rosemary? You look like you may faint.”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about Dorian Gray anymore,” snapped Rosemary. “And I don’t want you to meet him and dissect him and inject your poison into his veins.”
    Just then, the butler tapped on the door, clearing his throat as he readied his announcement.
    â€œYes, Parker?” said Rosemary.
    â€œPardon me, Miss,” he said, glancing hesitantly at Helen, who smiled curtly in response.
    â€œDorian Gray is in the sitting room, Miss,” said Parker.
    If Rosemary was pale before, she was white as a sheet now. Helen jumped up, grabbing Rosemary’s hand.
    â€œYou must introduce me now!”
    Rosemary ignored Helen and looked at Parker. “Please tell Mr. Gray I will be with him in a few minutes,” she said. Parker bowed and went up the walk.
    â€œRosemary!”