The Mister Chapter 14: They Start F***ing In This One

I gave this post that title just for all you guys who just wanted to know when the sex scenes finally start in E.L. James’s new novel. You’re welcome, perverts.

Previously, the world’s most inept sex traffickers (real words I’m writing on this blog!) have inexplicably driven Maxim and Alessia into hiding at one of his family’s properties in a small coastal town. It also has an abandoned tin mine, which is only important to the story if you wondered when that whole Poldark thing was gonna come up again.

Okay, but, seriously, do read that Jenny Trout’s recap if you’re interested in The Mister‘s issues with 1) “borrowing” from Poldark, 2) framing Albania as some destitute hellscape, or 3) exoticizing Alessia’s beauty. These are all issues worthy of discussion! I’m not necessarily the best critic to talk about these since I’m a white dude who’s never been to Albania or watched past the first season of Poldark.

But I feel like there is a unique perspective I can bring to the critical discussion for The Mister, especially in this chapter. Keep that in mind. We’re going to get to that.

The Mister: Chapter 14

But in order to get to the sex scene, first we have to trudge through more conflict as two characters who barely know each other keep accidentally upsetting each other.

What has she done?

Mister Maxim. Mister Maxim. Maxim.

She thought he’d find it amusing that she knew his piece.

But no, she’s reminded him of his grief.

This is what is known as foreplay.

Alessia kisses my neck. My jaw. And my lips once more.

And I let her.

Gradually, my grief recedes, leaving only hunger in its wake. My hunger for her. I’ve been fighting my attraction to her since I saw her standing in my hallway holding that broom. But she’s broken through all my defenses. She’s exposed my grief. My need. My lust. And I’m powerless to resist.

YEP the fever pitch that gets these characters to start fucking: Alessia accidentally made Maxim so sad that suddenly they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. And, look, I’m not here to write anything deep about grief and sexuality, but I think it’s fair to say that neither is The Mister.

I’m lost. Lost to her compassion, her courage, and her innocence.

My body responds. […] I light up like Piccadilly Circus.

“You okay?”

A shy smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and she nods.

Does she mean yes or no?

“Yes?” I want clarification.

“Yes,” she whispers. […]

“Do you want to stop?”

“No,” she says quickly.

I was going to just write “YAY, CONSENT IS SEXY AS HELL” but was worried that this might read as sarcastic, but the moment that immediately follows this one hopefully supports my argument that getting consent is easily the sexiest part of this scene:

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“This?” I ask, and press my hips against her.

She gasps.

“Yes, beautiful. I want you.”

This probably isn’t supposed to read like “My dick is hard for you, you silly goose!”, but the longer this goes on, the more I have to wonder if E.L. James really has been trying to write comedy this whole time and we’re all in the wrong for taking her at face value:

Her moan is soft and husky as her head falls into the palm of my hand.

It’s music to my dick.

Incredibly, this is not the first time E.L. James has written the sentence “It’s music to my dick”. Nor is it the second time. No, this is the third time that E.L. James has written a novel and thought, “hm, this is a good sentence”, like she either keeps forgetting she’s used a phrase as ridiculous as “music to my dick” multiple times before, or it’s just her weird calling card now.

Maxim tells Alessia he wants “to make love to you”, asks her if she wants to stop, and asks if she’s sure she wants to do this multiple times. Which, honestly, is a huge improvement over Fifty Shades!

And how bad was that?

Fifty Shades of Grey: Chapter 8

Christian is running both his hands through his hair and pacing up and down his study. Two hands – that’s double exasperation. His usual concrete control seems to have slipped a notch.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” he castigates me.

“The subject never came up. I’m not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other.” I’m staring at my hands. Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad? I peek up at him. […]

“I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!” He says it like it’s a really dirty word. […] “And a nice young man hasn’t swept you off your feet? I just don’t understand. You’re twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You’re beautiful.” He runs his hand through his hair again.

Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Christian Grey thinks I’m beautiful.

Yes, I’m really doing a side-by-side comparison of the first sex scenes in The Mister and Fifty Shades of Grey.

This E.L. James’s first “first” sex scene in the eight years since her Twilight fanfic Fifty Shades of Grey took the world by storm. And, ya know, we were there for that. We recapped that sex scene way back in the baby days of this blog, and I’ve been interested in/terrified of revisiting it in the years since then, and this seems like a great opportunity to do so. Because it’s fair to wonder if – in the eight years of discourse and criticism and (presumably) honing her craft – James’s sex scenes have gotten any better.

“How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please.”

If not solely because the bar was very low.

“Do you want to go?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“No, unless you want me to go,” I murmur. […]
“Come,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“We’re going to rectify the situation right now.”
“What do you mean? What situation?”
“Your situation. Ana, I’m going to make love to you, now.”
“Oh.” The floor has fallen away. I’m a situation.

You know when you’re in your hometown or at a family or class reunion, and that one person you remember being a huge mess, all these years later, is this a huge mess? Christian Grey is still that huge mess.

To be fair, despite the abject horror of that “We’re going to rectify the situation right now” line (and Ana’s hilariously bored “Oh.”), Fifty Shades DID make sure Christian asked for consent. Even if Ana seems to consent more out of a sense of obligation to moving the plot forward than any particularly strong desire.

“Please Ana, let me make love to you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, because that’s why I’m here.

Not exactly a glowing endorsement.

But on a technicality, both Fifty Shades and The Mister at least achieve the bare minimum for consent. Although Ana takes a rather perfunctory role in the matter…

The Mister: Chapter 14

…but then again, the entire sex scene in The Mister is from Maxim’s point of view. Not that it’s an issue to write a sex scene just from a dude’s point of view, of course, but given that The Mister switches between the two characters as narrators (unlike Fifty Shades, which was just Ana), it’s definitely a choice that we can’t ignore. If not mostly because Maxim beats us over the head with male gaze.

She’s shy.

She’s innocent.

Honestly, this is where I feel the most out of my depth as a critic of E.L. James’s work, because while she clearly has an audience, I have no idea what to make of the misogynist men and virginal women of her stories, and who she even writes men who view women like this for.

Ok, that’s probably enough thinking for now. WHO’S HERE FOR THE GOOFY BULLSHIT? Let’s get into the goofy bullshit.

“Zot,” she moans.

“I want you,” I whisper, and nip her again. “And I do bite.”

Phew, that was taking 5ever.

Fifty Shades of Grey: Chapter 8

We can’t really judge if The Mister‘s sex scenes are any goofier than James’s earlier, best-selling, half-billion-dollar-film-adaptation-grossing work without refreshing ourselves just how goofy they were. Let’s go down memory lane, like how Christian went down on An– I’m sorry, we’re not here to judge if I’ve become a better writer over the past eight years.

“I don’t know what you mean.” My voice is hoarse. I hardly recognize it, laced with desire.
“How do you make yourself come? I want to see.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t,” I mumble. He raises his eyebrows, astonished for a moment, and his eyes darken, and he shakes his head in disbelief.
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” […] His lips close around my other nipple and when he tugs, I nearly convulse.
“Let’s see if we can make you come like this,” he whispers, continuing his slow, sensual assault. My nipples bear the delicious brunt of his deft fingers and lips, setting alight every single nerve ending so that my whole body sings with the sweet agony. […] Holy hell, what’s happening to me?

YEAH JUST IN CASE YOU FORGOT, IN FIFTY SHADES OF GREY, ANA HAS HER FIRST ORGASM EVER JUST FROM CHRISTIAN PLAYING WITH HER NIPPLES.

Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about.

Look, a lot of wild things have happened this decade, but let’s pause for a second and appreciate that one of those things was that a book that described a woman’s first orgasm with “Now I know what all the fuss is about” turned into a half-billion-dollar-grossing film trilogy.

And now the hour you’ve all been waiting for: it’s cock o’clock.

Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. Holy cow… He reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a foil packet, and then he moves between my legs, spreading them further apart. He kneels up and pulls a condom onto his considerable length. Oh no… Will it? How?

“Don’t worry,” he breathes, his eyes on mine. “You expand too.”

So does The Mister unsheathe Maxim’s penis with a less distracting Holy Cow count? (“One”, of course, being an unacceptable Holy Cow count.)

The Mister: Chapter 14

Yeah, The Mister not only doesn’t give us Alessia’s perspective, it doesn’t give us her reaction whatsoever to seeing Maxim’s penis, which strikes me as kind of a wild choice to make for, ya know, erotica.

I yank my underwear off, finally freeing my straining cock. And before the sight of my erection can shock or alarm her, I lean over and kiss her. Really kiss her, pouring all my want and need into her first fully naked kiss. She responds, her lips greedy, kissing me back.

Dear readers, this is where I have to break some terrible news to you. The Mister‘s first sex scene isn’t as unintentionally hilarious as Fifty Shades‘s was. Nor is it better. More than anything else, it’s astonishingly boring.

Tasting her skin, I skim my lips down her throat to her gold cross. I twirl it with my tongue, enjoying the taste

Okay, that’s a little bonkers to just throw in there, for sure. But for the most part, there’s just… nothing particularly interesting about this scene. I probably shouldn’t be all that surprised, since the most likely – and least exciting – outcome was that James’s prose developed from so-bad-it’s-funny to forgettable.

Reaching for a condom, trying to keep my body in check, I whisper, “Are you ready? It’ll be quick.”

Might as well be truthful.

This is unintentionally telling.

Fifty Shades of Grey: Chapter 8

While The Mister has a slight edge on consent, Fifty Shades has a significant edge on dickscriptions. Fifty Shades also has a higher orgasm count due to – and I can’t believe I’m writing this even though I already recapped this book eight years ago – Christian making Ana climax exclusively by licking her nipples. Is Fifty Shades going to hold onto its early lead?

“Pull your knees up,” he orders softly, and I’m quick to obey. “I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele,” he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. “Hard,” he whispers, and he slams into me.
“Aargh!” I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity.

Yeah, that’s about as horrifying as I remember. How does The Mister enter virgin territory?

The Mister: Chapter 14

“Hey,” I whisper, and kiss her eyelids in turn. Her arms circle my neck, and she whimpers.

“Alessia.” Her lips find mine, and she kisses me hungrily. Feverishly. Desperately. And I can hold off no more.

Slowly. Slowly. Slowly, I sink into her.

Oh. Good. God.

Tight. Wet. Heaven.

There’s no question that “Tight. Wet. Heaven.” isn’t goofy as shit, but… you know that feeling you get when you eat at McDonald’s after you have a really nice steak? Yeah, let’s stroll down memory lane again:

Fifty Shades of Grey: Chapter 8

“I’m going to move, baby,” he breathes after a moment, his voice tight.

Oh.

Y’all… I never thought I’d say this… but Fifty Shades of Grey is significantly improved by (deep, reluctant sigh) Anastasia Steele’s narration. ALL SHE HAS TO DO IS SAY “OH.” AND IT’S MORE CONSISTENTLY AMUSING AND ENTERTAINING THAN THE MISTER. THAT’S NOT A GREAT SIGN.

My body quivers, bows; a sheen of sweat gathers over me. Oh my… I didn’t know it would feel like this… didn’t know it could feel as good as this.

Note I didn’t say “better”. But that’s kind of my point. With Anastasia Steele, we at least got a tale told by an idiot:

Now I know what all the fuss is about. Two orgasms… coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow.

What hope is even left for The Mister without the benefit of Ana’s (or, on a more serious note, even Alessia’s) narration? Well, long-time readers might recall we have one remaining glimmer of hope.

The voice-activated orgasm:

“Come for me, Ana,” he whispers breathlessly, and I unravel at his words, exploding around him as I climax and splinter into a million pieces underneath him. And as he comes, he calls out my name, thrusting hard, then stilling as he empties himself into me.

The Mister: Chapter 14

Not to toot my own horn, but I kind of feel like by breaking apart this scene in this way, this blog post might actually be more suspenseful than anything in The Mister has been yet.

DOES ALESSIA COME WHEN SHE’S CALLED?

NOPE.

At least not yet. But we DO get Alessia and Maxim finishing simultaneously during her first time:

“Yes, move with me, beautiful,” I encourage her as her short, breathy gasps of pleasure spur me on.

“Please,” she whispers, begging for more, and I willingly oblige. […]

I move once, twice…a third time, and she screams as she lets go, her cry and her climax my undoing.

I come. Forcefully. Loudly. And calling out her name.

If nothing else, at least The Mister has firmly established itself as a fantasy. Just not a very interesting one.

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