CHAPTER VIII ← FANFICTION - CHRISTIAN AND ANSTASIA

THE NUTS AND BOLTS

CHAPTER VIII

After sitting up, I roll the condom off and toss it into the wastebasket slam dunk. I turn to Anastasia who is looking at me half surprised, half horrified about the arrival of my mother and I can see that she’s thinking what my mother would think of her here in my bed.

I give her a wicked grin and say, “Come on baby, we need to get dressed – you will be meeting my mother.” I jump off the bed, and pull my jeans on commando. Anastasia in the other hand is still spent in the bed, struggling to move off her spot because her hands are still tied. She finally gives up and says, “Christian, I can’t move...” looking at me bewildered.

I grin as wide as possible, and untie her hands, though I would have loved to play with her a little longer. Later perhaps... I like the thought of her tied up, in my bed, and at my beckoning. It's incredibly hot! And since she struggled to touch me often, the tie marked her wrists in pink. The look of it is sexy as hell and a total turn on for me. Damn! I gaze at it for a minute, but I don’t want to get a hard on before I go see my mother and introduce the woman in my bed to her. I lightly kiss her, and smile. I gaze away and close my eyes for a minute. I don’t have time to f*ck her again... Not when my mother is waiting in the living room. I’m going to have her meet my mother. I never made an attempt to introduce any woman to anyone in my family and she's already met my brother and now this. She’s my first. Oddly, I want to introduce Anastasia. There is also some weird notion of pride. It's not just my conquest of her. It's also something else. Then again, I’ve claimed her every way possible; this would be laying another claim on her. I like the thought.

“Another first,” I acknowledge. I point her to the drawers and tell here that there are clean clothes she can use. Her eyes go wider in panic. Since I know that I’m the first man in her life, she’s never really met anyone’s mother in the position of a lover.

“Maybe I should stay here,” she says completely crimson with embarrassment since my mother practically walked in on us.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” I threaten her. “Find something out of my drawers, and put something on.” I put a white t-shirt on, and run my fingers through my just fucked hair, and I’m ready to greet my mother, but I want Anastasia to come out. I have this compelling desire to show her off, wear her on my sleeve almost. I shake my head at the feeling. Anastasia on the other hand still perched on the bed, and looking like a scared rabbit. Concerned.

“Baby you can wear a sack and pull it off. Just put anything of mine, and come out within five minutes,” I say softly and sweetly. “But if you’re not out within that time frame, I will drag you out to meet her even if you don’t have anything on,” my voice threatens her. She narrows her gaze. I point at the drawer where I keep the t-shirt, and tell her that the shirts are in the closet. I indicate five minutes with my right hand to her with a warning look. Damn, I want her to meet my mom! With a final glance I look at her my gaze softening, as hers narrows, and I want to jump at her with that glare; it is so damn hot, instead I smile at her tenderly. Because Mrs. Grey is waiting in the living room; the sooner I go, the better.

I close my bedroom door behind for her to get ready and walk into the living room. My mother is standing with Taylor in the living room. When she sees me I can see the gleam in her eyes, questioning and very curious.

I walk to her and give a curtly kiss her on the cheeks. We don’t touch. She understood I don’t like to be touched, and she hasn’t since childhood. “Hello mother,” I say politely.

“Hello Christian,” she says speculatively. She is uneasy and I can guess why. She thinks I have a guy here in my bed. How little she knows me when it comes to my private life. She tries to continue nonchalantly, “Well, I haven’t seen you for two weeks, and I was getting worried about you. So, I came by to see if you would like to go to lunch with me?” she says making it sound like a question.

“Thank you mother,” I say, “I would have loved to but, ah, I have plans for the day. I have company.” Curiosity rises in her eyes, but she’s polite, and waiting for me to explain. My mother is an impeccably dressed woman who is sporting her camel colored fine knit sweater dress with matching shoes. She’s well groomed and manicured as always. Her light make-up is in place, and her hair is in a neat chignon as if she left the beauty salon few minutes ago.

“I have someone special here with me,” I say to my mother eyeing her speculatively, examining her expression. “You will meet her in a few minutes,” I say, as I politely as I lead her to the large sofa to sit on.

My mother’s response is automatic and surprised, turning her head to me her eyes wide with excitement “Her?” she says.

Of course that’s what she would say knowing full well that she assumed I was a celibate gay. I’m looking forward to disproving her...With Miss Anastasia Steele at that! I can’t wait to see my mother’s expression when she sees Anastasia. As if on cue, Anastasia emerges from my bedroom wearing her own shirt from the night before, her jeans, and her Converse shoes. Her jacket is smartly covering the ligature marks left by my silver silk tie on her wrists. Smart girl! Her hair is tied in a ponytail, but she still couldn’t disguise it from screaming just fucked. I like that! A lot... Somehow, I have a certain pleasure introducing her to my mother as if securing another claim on her.

When I see her emerge from my bedroom, I feel a certain desire for her all over again, and I stand up to meet her and say, “Here she is,” to my mother my voice strangely tinged with pride and that is reflected in my warm and appreciate smile for Anastasia. God! She looks wonderful! Would I ever get enough of her?

As soon as I get up and turn my gaze towards Anastasia, my mother turns her head in the direction of my bedroom door, and I can see the appreciative gleam in her eyes. But they also contain some hidden relief in them. She must have thought I’d remain single all my life. If she only knew! When Anastasia gets closer to me, I extend my hand and reach her, and hold the small of her back as I pull her closer to me. My mother’s eyes miss nothing, and I can see that she’s noting everything in a barely contained excitement to convey her introduction to Anastasia to the rest of the family. I see that Elliot hasn’t seen them yet to talk about Ana and I. This thought warms my eyes, “Ana and I” as in “us.” I shake my head inwardly, and turn to my mother and formally introduce her.

“Mother, this is Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, this is my mother Grace Trevelyan-Grey.”

When my mother proffers her hand out to Anastasia, she behaves like any mother whose son just introduced his first girl saying, “What a pleasure to meet you Anastasia!” in all her sincerity completely gushing. In fact, she’s beaming with delight like a new mother whose baby said his first word or took his first step! Well, in a way, it is my first step. She’s meeting a woman in my life, or I hope to keep in my life for the first time. Ever! There is a lot to be said about it, and her reaction makes me inwardly happy, but I hide my smile.

Anastasia reaches out and accepts my mother’s hand and says, “Dr. Trevelyan-Grey,” acknowledging her shyly. My mother too looks stunned by this shy beauty. I don’t know what she was expecting, maybe a flamboyant boyfriend? That showed her! But what she finds in Anastasia is a stunning, unassuming shy beauty and Dr. Grey is beyond pleased to meet her. To my surprise, my professional, no nonsense mother gushes at Anastasia and says, “Please, call me Grace,” I frown. She’d never allow someone she just met to call her by her first name. She’s not cold, but she usually is distant and mostly professional. Then she adds, “I’m usually Dr. Trevelyan to my patients, and obviously they call my mother in law Mrs. Grey. I’m Grace to my friends,” she beams, and winks! At Anastasia! What is it with her that captivates everyone she meets?

She turns and addresses her question to both of us her eyes alight with uncontained curiosity, “So, how did you two meet?” Geez mother! I answer her.

“Anastasia interviewed me for the WSU student paper. That’s how we met, and I will be conferring degrees this week.”

“Will you also be graduating this week Anastasia?” my mother turns and asks her.

“Yes,” she answers softly. Her cell phone rings, and she excuses herself to answer her phone. My eyes fixed on her with barely contained jealousy. Who is calling her? She answers saying, “Kate?” as she walks away for relative privacy, but not before I catch her saying, “Look Jose, now is not a good time.”

Fuck! That, would-be rapist fucker is calling her. Why won’t he leave her alone? My mother is saying something, but I can’t concentrate. My mind is reeling. She moves by the balcony, and I watch her every step like a predator to prey, my eyes narrowing.

“Christian?” my mother says.

“I’m sorry mother. What were you saying?”

“She’s beautiful! I like her a lot!” she gushes which momentarily distracts me because I’ve never seen her barely contain herself before. I give her a polite smile which doesn’t reach my eyes.

“Thank you,” I say politely, still gazing at Anastasia whisper on the phone. I have to let her know that I don’t share, and I don’t want her seeing other guys. I claimed her, and I don’t want anyone else stake claims on her. She’s mine! She has to be mine. God! I can’t contain this jealousy in me! I want to just send my mother off and take her again, so she knows who she belongs to. She’s mine!

How long will she talk to him? Hang up already! Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me? When she finally gets him off the phone with her, I slowly breathe out a sigh of relief my eyes still fixed on her. She walks back to me as my mother is muttering something about Elliot.

“...anyway, Elliot called and said you were around... I haven’t seen you for two week darling.”

Elliot called, huh? Did he tell her about Anastasia? Is that why she’s here?

“Did he now?” I murmur, still gazing at Anastasia without giving anything away to either of them. My passive face is in place.

My mother continues to speak to me. “As I said earlier, I wanted to see if you wanted to have lunch with me since you were in town, but I see that you have other plans,” she says smiling. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans,” she says gathering her coat, and getting ready to leave still smiling and offering me her cheek for a kiss. I kiss my mother briefly.

“It was great seeing you mother, but I have to drive Anastasia back to Portland.”

“Of course darling,” she says, then turning to Anastasia with barely contained adoration she gushes, “Anastasia, it has been such a pleasure to meet you! I hope I get to see you again!” She extends her hands to Anastasia sincerely completely glowing. Anastasia is shy as ever takes my mother’s hand with a surprised look on her face, she finally nods.

Taylor comes from his office knowing my mother is about to leave, and shows her out the door. The last thing I hear from my mother is her thanking Taylor politely. As soon as she’s out of the earshot, I turn to Anastasia and glare at her with my risen anger.

“So the photographer called?”

She looks a little scared. “Yes,” she says her voice is barely audible.

“What did he want from you?” I say evenly, all business. If the fucker was here, I’d show him a lesson he’d not forget a long time. (← I'll be Watching You by Police)

“He called to apologize,” she murmurs, “you know...for what happened on Friday,” she says drifting off.

“I see,” I say, and did she accept the apology? That’s it? He apologizes and she forgives and everything is honky dory with the would-be rapist? Just as I was gathering my thoughts to remark again, Taylor comes back and tells me that there is an issue for the aid shipment to Darfur. He nods at Anastasia, and professionally greets her. She smiles at him. My jealousy rises in me again. I don’t want her smiling at every guy she sees! Even if it is out of politeness. Can’t she see that she belongs to me? Fuck! Not yet. But she needs to know. That’s why I want her to sign the contract. That way she doesn’t need to think about any of these issues that are bothering me. She just has to follow my directions and my lead.

“Does Taylor live here?” she asks bringing me out of my reveries though my gaze never left her.

“Yes.” I say in a clipped tone. She looks at me taken aback. I will deal with her in a minute. Right now I have to attend the Darfur business at hand. I get my Blackberry from the kitchen counter, and call my right hand person Ros. “Ros, what’s the problem?”

She tell me the problem with the food shipment through land where warlords are known to hijack aid shipments which in return putting both the American and local crew in danger. I listen to Ros while still watching Anastasia my eyes fixed. I have to take her again and remind her just exactly who she belongs to. She looks confused, lost and incredibly small in my great room. She lowers her gaze again, wringing her hands nervous.

Half my mind is listening to Ros, but I'm mostly occupied watching and thinking of Anastasia. I slowly drift back to Ros when she says, “What is your order Mr. Grey?” she says.

“I’m not putting either crew on risk.”

“Do you want them to try a different route?” she consults me.

“No, cancel... We’ll just air drop instead...”

“As you wish sir.”

“Good.” I say and hang up my gaze not left Anastasia for one second.

Even the few minutes on the phone dealing with something else didn’t help and my anger hasn’t subsided. Had Anastasia signed the contract, she would be punished right now for receiving a phone call from that fucker. As it is, she hasn’t. So, she needs to read and do that as soon as possible. I look at her once again, and then I head to my study to bring back the printed contract. I hand it to her curtly.

This is the contract,” I say firmly, “I want you to read it. We’ll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest that you do some research on what’s involved to better acquaint yourself?” I take a breath. “That is if you agree,” I acquiesce, but anxiety rises in me with the possibility that she may not accept, and my eyes soften and when I speak again, there is a slightly hidden plea in my voice, “I really hope you do agree Anastasia...”

“Research, how?” she asks.

“You can find a lot of the information on the internet.” I say, and all of a sudden her face falls. She doesn’t want our arrangement? What’s wrong? Her facial expression gets me concerned. What if she finds me overbearing and decides against what I’m asking of her?

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I don’t have a computer. I’ll ask my roommate Kate if I can use her laptop.” Oh... I can solve that problem easily. I hand her the large envelope containing the contract.

Knowing her reservations against receiving gifts, I say, “I suppose I can lend you one. Get your things, we’ll drive back to Portland now, and get a bite to eat on the way. I’m going to get dressed now. Excuse me.” I say.

 “I’m going to make a phone call,” she murmurs. I frown. What if she’s going to call him?
I have to know. “The photographer?” I ask my jaw clenching in barely contained anger. She blinks and looks confused.

“Just remember Miss Steele,” I said sharply, “I. Don’t. Share!” enunciating. She’s taken aback, giving me a “what is your problem?” stare. But I don’t budge.

“Just remember that.” I say in a chilling tone, all of a sudden feeling distant. I go back to my room to get dressed, leaving her standing in the middle of the room her mouth agape with my brief scolding. I put a few clothing items into my carry-on bag since I’ll be staying in Portland for the graduation ceremony. Then I quickly get dressed ready to go, but still angry under the surface. I grab my bag I’ve packed and walk out into the living room. My mind is still reeling. She still hasn’t signed the contract. Had she signed it, I would have a grip of the situation. But right now, I have no control over it. It’s making me angrier, but I do my best to be polite. She’s still standing where I left her when I come out of my door. And this feeling of not having any control over her affairs, and her being a complete stranger to my expectations, wants and demands is making me uneasy. I want her to know my rules, learn and follow them. If she gets out of line as she did today by speaking to that fucker, I can correct her behavior by way of punishing her to my satisfaction, so she learns to behave within my boundaries. 

I stand by the door and glance at her. “Ready?” I ask. She nods uncertainly, my eyes narrow. I put my leather jacket on over my low hanging jeans. I see her eyes conspicuously appraising. I approve. I see her try to hide a small sigh. I’ve calmed down, and not giving anything away. She frowns.

“Tomorrow then,” I say to Taylor reminding him that he is to come and meet me in Portland.

“Yes sir. Which vehicle will you be driving sir?” he asks.

“The R8.” I respond.

“Have a safe trip Mr. Grey. Miss Steele,” he says.

Taylor’s odd look at Anastasia puzzles me. Perhaps he too became fond of her in a short time. She’s hard not to like. Knowing my devious ways, he may have his opinions of my lifestyle, but I don't care what they are. He's part of my staff. I'm his boss. Taylor’s been with me for four years. He knows what my Play Room is for, and he’s known almost all my subs. But he also knows that Dominant and Submissive lifestyle was their chosen path. It gives me a pang of guilt that it isn’t so for Anastasia. She’s never had sex before let alone being in the kind of relationship I’m interested in. Taylor opens the door for us without giving anything further and his is expression flat. I summon the elevator. Anastasia is thoughtful. She’s chewing something over in her mind. I’ve come to know that side of her well in the past couple of days. She’s an over thinker.

But I can’t let her just overthink something and then decide to leave me, without me having my say. We need to communicate. I want this to work so badly. I need this... In fact, I never wanted, or needed anything more before! There are these foreign emotions coursing through my body and my mind. What I know is that I desperately want her. I can’t take the suspense and ask: “What is it Anastasia?”

“What are you thinking?”

She looks at me surprised to find out I know she’s mulling something over. Ugh! That delectable lip goes back into the captivity of her teeth again. I groan, and reach out and pull her chin to release that lip.

“Stop biting that lip Ana. Or so help me, I will fuck you in the elevator and I don’t give a shit who gets in with us!” (← Tonight by Enrique Iglesias)

Her jaws drops opens and she turns beet red. Why is her reaction so fucking hot to me? All of a sudden, she looks younger, more innocent to me and melting me inside. I can’t help but smile at her softly. With one look, one blush she shifts my mood from the depths of despair and hell into heaven. She’s such a beautiful witchy, magic woman. I’m in awe of her! (← Black Magic Woman by Santana)

She finally says, “Christian, I have a problem,” deciding to talk about what she’s been mulling over.

A problem? I’m all ears. What sort of problem?

“Oh?” She has my complete attention, and I’m holding my breath. When the elevator arrives, the door dings opens and I let her in, but still waiting for her to tell me what the problem is. I press for the Ground level. I raise my eyebrows to coax her talking about her problem.

“Please, go on,” I say.

“Uhm... Well, here’s the thing...” she says, and stops, looking down at her hands, and wringing those hands again as if they hold a secret clue as to help her what to say. Then she finds her resolve, and speaks: “Look. I really need to talk to Kate. I need to ask her some questions about sex, and seeing as how involved you are, I don't think its a good idea for me to ask my questions to you. You see, you want me to do a list of things, and perform...” she says blushing and drifting, then brings her resolve and adds as my eyes burning embers gazing into her fully, and completely paying attention trying to read what she says and what she omits in her expression and words.

“I just need to speak to her. I have no points of reference, no experience, and you, not letting me talk to anyone but to only, well, you, doesn’t help...” She looks pleading. “I really need her help. You know, girl to girl. Well, you don’t know. But I just have to talk to her... Please?” she asks pleading.

Oh God! How can I say no to her pleading, and begging? I roll my eyes. If it’s that important to her, I acquiesce, “Alright. You can talk to her if you must,” I say. She makes me exasperated sometimes. But I have to remind her about Elliot’s involvement with her roommate. She must not mention anything to my brother. All of a sudden I feel that she gets is like a porcupine, raising her quills up defending her roommate, her best friend. She fully stands behind her. I approve. She's loyal!

“Kate wouldn’t do that!” she defends her. “Besides, if she were to tell me anything about Elliot, I wouldn’t come running to you to talk about it.”

I shake my head. “See, I don’t really care about my brother’s sex life, who he sleeps with or how he does it. Essentially, what he does is no interest to me. But, I am an interest to him in the other hand,” I murmur. “My brother is a nosy bastard, and I can tell you that he is deeply interested what we’ve done so far, or what we would do.” I give her a warning.

“If Kate knew what I plan to do with you, she’d have my balls on a plate,” I say softly. She’s just like me. Determined, no non-sense, and a ball crusher.

“Okay, fine,” she agrees shaking her head. Her response makes me smile. The sooner she submits to me, the sooner I can tell her what to do, instead of trying to negotiate a behavior, and get exasperated in return like I am now! I really want her to sign her contract, and soon.

“The sooner I have your submission the better, so we can stop all this,” I say softly.

“Stop what?” she asks confused.

How could she not know what she’s doing? She’s going against my will despite the fact I kept telling her I want to be the one to answer her questions. I want to be the teacher, the instructor. She has signed an NDA to not to discuss anything to anyone, yet she wants to go to her roommate and talk to her about things that she signed she wouldn’t do. She’s exasperating. I sigh, and say, “So you stop defying me!”

She looks disbelieving and confused. I reach down and lift her chin up, and plant a kiss on her lips as the elevator dings open. I hold her hand and walk her out of the elevator.  I walk her to my black R8.

“Nice car,” she murmurs dryly when she sees it. Is she making fun of me? I love her teasing ways. It does something to me I can’t explain. I find myself grinning. “I know,” I say. It’s my other baby, besides Anastasia of course. No matter how much she boils my blood with her defiance, her carefree observances and her innocent behavior just takes my breath away, and I feel like another young man with her. Just me, Christian... no soul crushing fucked up shit from my past. Just a young man taking a young woman out for a drive on a lovely day; so plain and simple... So ordinary.  (← We are Young by Fun ft. Jeanelle Monae)

All of a sudden I have this crushing desire to show her everything. I want to bring the world to her feet. I take her hand, and walk her to the passenger door, opening it for her. She climbs in, and “whoa...” she says finding it surprisingly low. I smile. It’s a sports car baby, low center of gravity for speed. I walk to the driver’s side, open the driver's door and ease inside the car.

“What sort of car is this?” she says.

“It’s an Audi R8 Spyder. Seeing as it is a beautiful day, we’ll take the top down. I have couple of baseball caps in the glove box. Would you get one for each of us please?”

“You can use the sunglasses there as well,” I add. She nods. When we settle in with our seatbelts, she is getting the baseball caps for us, I turn the car on. The MP3 player comes on automatically and it’s Bruce Springsteen playing. What a lovely song on such a lovely day with such a lovely woman. I can’t help myself but grin with joy, and say “Gotta love Bruce,” as I back out of the parking space and out of the parking garage of Escala. It’s a beautiful May morning in Seattle. We drive through the traffic. I’m lost in thoughts of her. Of this beautiful woman sitting next to me. So close, yet so far. What will she think of the contents of the contract? Will she agree to them? Will she be scared, and run for the hills? I slightly shake my head out of my reveries, and focus on Bruce’s song. (←I’m on Fire by Bruce Springsteen)

I drive on I-5 heading south towards Portland. The top down on the convertible, the wind sweeps through our heads over the caps and sunglasses. When Bruce says, “I can take you higher... Oh, I’m on fire,” I turn my gaze on Anastasia. She has no idea how apt this song is defining my feelings for her. I too wake up in the middle of the night with my sheets soaking wet from the nightmares, and the residual feeling of my past just like he described: “like a freight train roaming through the middle of my head,” and hasn’t Anastasia been cooling my desire? How can I let go of her? Doesn’t she realize how much I desire her?

How could someone I have just met mean so much to me? How could she make room for herself in my dark soul, if it is even still present, make room inside me so fast? How could someone so innocent like her do that? I am on fire for her! Only if she knew!

Damn! All I can do is to gaze at her. I am on fire, desire and need of her, my lips twitch into a smile. I reach out to her with my right hand slowly and place it on her knee only, gently squeezing. Her response is automatic. As soon as we touch, or connect in any possible way, the current starts flowing, and jolting between us.

“Are you hungry?” I ask huskily, with desire in my voice.

“Not particularly,” she says. I am displeased because she hardly eats anything though I did detect that she is hungry for me. But still... It’s one of my rules that she has to eat properly to keep herself healthy. I remind her that she must eat.

“I’ll take you to a great restaurant near Olympia.” She sighs, I hide a small smile, I squeeze her knee again hungry for her reaction. And soon enough her breath hitches. She wants more. I remove my hand and put it back on the steering wheel. Expectation. That’s half the fun, and sex is only amplified with it many folds. It’s a great tool for control as well. One I’ve mastered very, very well. I put my foot down on the accelerator and speed through the freeway, while Anastasia looks at me with a different kind of hunger.

We reach the restaurant. It’s not a big place, but a small charming locale with mismatched chairs and random table cloths. The food however is great though it too is simple.

“What sort of food they have here?” she asks suspiciously.

“Oh, whatever they catch or gather. But it tastes good,” I make a face and she starts laughing at my mock expression. Such a beautiful, carefree, and youthful sound! I love it! The waitress comes along to take our drink order. She sports her blonde bangs and looks frustrated as she tries to get my attention, but I ignore her as Anastasia is inconspicuously trying to observe her behavior and my reaction. I approve! She’s jealous, and that does something in me, and I feel my erection stirring.

Seeing as Anastasia doesn’t have much of an experience in choosing wine, I order two glasses of Pinot Grigio, but she purses her lips as if disapproving. I get frustrated. I know wine, and she doesn’t. I find myself snapping at her saying, “What?”

She flinches, lowers her gaze as if hurt, “I wanted Diet Coke,” she whispers.

No. That is not a good choice. First of all, it has saccharine which causes cancer. And my choice of wine is a decent one; and it goes with anything this place can offer. I explain that to her. She acquiesces.

I feel taken aback by her acquiescence as she normally would rebuttal with her own opinion.

“My mother liked you,” I say to her changing the topic, and she is completely surprised by that. “Really?” she says turning red. Even compliments are hard to accept for her though she is well deserving of them.

“Yes,” I smile, “my mother always thought I was gay, and I believe she was expecting a guy to walk out of my room.” She frowns.

“Why on earth would your own mother think that you were gay?” she asks confused.

“Because she’s never seen me with a girl.” Her head slightly snaps up, and she blurts out:

“Not any of the fifteen?”

I smile. She remembered. She was paying attention.

“No, none of the fifteen. It’s a first,” I say. “You are the first one ever she's met. In fact, this week had been a week of many firsts for me,” I say deep in thought what it could mean.

“Really?” she says softly and innocently.

“Yes,” I say just as softly, “you’re the first woman I slept with. You know, sleep sleep,” I say smiling, “first one I had sex with in my bed,” I say with desire and fire rising in me, “first girl ever to ride in Charlie Tango, and first girl I introduce to my mother. What are you doing to me? You’ve bewitched me completely!” I say disarmed, my gaze intense. Can I even imagine being without her even after just this short time of knowing her? My subconscious tells me “sadly, no.” (← Hard to Say I’m Sorry by Boyz to Men)

After our wines arrive, she takes a quick sip to gather some courage for something she wants to say. My gaze is intent on her. “I’ve really enjoyed this weekend Christian,” she whispers. My eyes narrow as my breath hitches. How could she make me gasp with six simple words? Why is my name coming out of her lips so damn sexy? She bites her lip absently.

“Stop biting your lip Anastasia,” I growl knowing full well that this is going to be my undoing with my rising erection, she gasps and her teeth release her lip from captivity. “I’ve enjoyed the weekend immensely as well,” my voice husky.

“Uhm, Christian, can I ask you something?” she whispers as if she doesn’t want others to hear her. “Of course,” I say with my gaze on her intently.

Her voice dips into even a lower octave, “what is vanilla sex?” she asks making me smile wide.

“It’s just straightforward sex with no toys involved. No extras. You know....” I smile remembering. She doesn’t know. Giving me another unexpected pleasure. I’m her first. “Well, you don’t know. But that’s what it is.”

“Oh,” she says still speculating and mulling over something in her head.

When the food comes, I ignore the waitress. Not that I’m even slightly interested in her. Like I could be interested in anyone besides Anastasia? When she leaves our food and go, Anastasia giggles, and that’s just about the most beautiful sound I’ve heard. So carefree, so melodic, so befitting of her. Perfectly lovely!

“Christian?” she asks, “Why haven’t you ever had vanilla sex before? Have you always been... you know, with your particular predilections?” I slowly nod, and sigh. How can I explain her that Elena seduced me at a young age, and I’ve known nothing else? She looks at me for an answer. I finally go for the truth and say, “My mother’s friend seduced me when I was fifteen.”

Her mouth drops open, her face falls, saddened.

“Oh,” I hear along with an escaped gasp. I read her lips to say, “my God!” but no sound escapes it. Her stare changes.

“She had singular tastes. I was her submissive for six years,” I shrug. Past tense, done deal.

Her mouth is still open. For once, her smart mouth is lost for words. “Which is to say, I know what is involved Anastasia.” She continues to stare unable to digest the news, like she ate something bad, and its making her sick.

I roll my head, “look Anastasia, I didn’t have the normal introduction to sex.”

Her mouth finds its voice finally.

“Let me ask you this then; you’ve never... ever dated anyone in college?”

“No,” I shake my head.

“But why not?”

I don’t think she really wants to know the answer to that. But I ask anyway.

“Do you actually want the answer to that?”

“Yes!” she says firmly. Hmm, she’s curious about me.

“I just didn’t want to. She was all I wanted, all I needed. And besides if I had, she would have beaten the shit out of me,” I smiled fondly at the memory. She’s been beaten me so much, it’d be a walking bridge from Seattle to Hong Kong. Her eyes darken with anger, her jaw sets, but she speaks calmly.

“You said she was a friend of your mother’s. How old was she?” Where is she going with that, but I answer.

“Oh, she was old enough to know better,” I say with an afterthought.

She asks the question that is burning her now.

“Do you still see her?”

“Yes,” I say calmly.

She has disappointment in her eyes, and worry.

“Do you still...uhm... do...?” trailing off, eyes intent, and full of worry, her face turning puce. I haven’t seen her this sick since, she watered the flower bed in that bar’s front yard.

“No,” I shake my head. I am actually happy to see the rising jealousy in her thinking of a competition. “She’s just a good friend,” I add.

She then asks me the dumbest question. Dumber than “are you gay Mr. Grey?” question.

“Hmm. Does your mother know?”

“Of course not.” What is she thinking? Oh mother, by the way, one of your good friends seduced me when I was fifteen, and we had a six year running relationship. Now we're just good friends. My mother wouldn't understand the complexity of our relationship.

She grows silent again. She’s thinking, overthinking. Mulling what she heard and it’s not to her liking. She takes a sip of the wine. The food arrives, but she’s just staring at it as if the waitress brought a plate of dung.

“Full time?”

“What?”

“Were you her submissive full time?”

Oh... “Yes, but I didn’t see her all the time. It was difficult. First I was too young and in school, and then of course I went to college.” She just stares, speechless once again. “Anastasia, eat please,” I say.

“I’m not hungry Mr. Grey,” she says distant.

“Eat!” I say firmly, slowly, threatening. She just glares at me. She doesn’t seem to care about my threatening tone of voice.

“I need a minute,” she says, and surprises me. She’s right. Too much information to absorb.

“Sure,” I acquiesce.

She’s thinking again. Overthinking. I don’t want my shitty past to affect her decision. She seems worried. I wait for her to speak. She finally looks up.

“Will our... uhm...” trying to find to right word, ”...relationship be like that?”

“You, just bossing me around, giving orders?”

“Yes,” I confirm. But it’s more than that.

“I see,” she says flatly.

“It’s more than that Anastasia... When you start submitting to me, you really will want to do that,” in a low fervent voice.

She looks skeptical. Her face says, “Yeah right buddy!” her eyes narrowing. She lowers those beautiful blues down to the table again staring at her small hands, this time even the hands are unable to move, and motionless, lost, like her.

“It’s a big step for me,” she says and takes a bite of her food absently.

“I know it is,” I say. As I close my eyes, I don’t want her to slip through my fingers deciding against our arrangement. I want her to keep an open mind. But I can’t, I won’t sway her decision one way or the other. She deserves better. This is all on her. She has to be the one to make the final decision.

“Look Ana, you need to do your research, read the contract, and go with your gut feeling. If you have a hard time understanding something, or some concept, I’d be more than happy to explain it to you. I’m going to be in Portland until Friday. So if you want to talk about it, before then I mean, call me,” I say. I’m nervous before this beautiful woman. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, she’s talented and what’s more, she’s a tough negotiator, unexpected of one who looks submissive but too independent.

“Would you call me Anastasia? Perhaps we can have dinner on Wednesday?” I ask. She says nothing, gives nothing away. That blank stare again. She does impassive better than I do right this moment. Shit! What if this isn’t impassive, and if she’s deciding against our arrangement. I can’t take it. She has to at least consider.

“Anastasia?” I ask. “I really, really, really want to make this work. In fact, I never wanted anything as much as I want this work.” Not when I started my company, not when I found any other woman, not any acquisition. It’s her! This woman I claimed every which way. I want her. I need her! My eyes are burning with desire for her! “Say something Ana...” my voice is pleading.

Her question surprises me: “What happened to the fifteen?” she blurts out.

“This and that... It boils down to this Anastasia. We were incompatible.” That’s it really. I wasn’t compatible with any of them. She has worry in her eyes. Why? Disbelief.

“If you weren’t compatible with trained submissives, and fifteen of them at that, what makes you think...” she says voice going low with worry trailing now barely audible, “what makes you think that I who knows next to nothing can be compatible to you?”

“You are!” I say fervently. “Believe me I know!” I want her to know that, and believe me, because it’s the truth.

“Are you still seeing any of them?” she asks with another worry with an undercurrent of jealousy. She still likes me despite all my disclosures.

“No Anastasia! I’m not seeing any of them. I’m a monogamous man in my relationship. I don’t have multiple partners.” I want her to know that she will be the only one when we have our arrangement.

She gives nothing away, “I see,” she murmurs. Is she relieved?

“Just do your research, you’ll get a better picture,” I say. She puts her fork down, and done eating. I can’t have her not eat. She has hardly eaten anything in the last two days. I don’t know how she manages to function with barely eating any food. That’s another reason she needs to sign the contract, so I can make sure she takes care of herself.

“That’s all you’re eating?” I question my mouth a thin line.

She says nothing, only nods. I don’t want to push my luck here. I have to pick my battles with her. And food right now is not in the top of the list. I eat and clean my plate while she’s squirming in her seat uncomfortably. She’s full of thought, and I know she’s analyzing my disclosure but a lot of other things are passing through her mind as her face changes and changes. What I would give to know what she’s thinking right now! And she’s squirming...uncomfortably. That could be attributed to my conquest of her.

“I’d love to give anything to figure out what you are thinking right at this moment,” I whisper. And she blushes to the hairline. I see. That is what she’s thinking. Where I’ve been, how I claimed her, and it pleases me to know that I have that effect on her. I give her a salacious grin.

“I can guess what you are thinking,” I whisper.

“Are you sure you’re not a mind reader?”

“No, I’m not. But I know how to read your body. I’ve been reading your body past couple of days remember? I think I’ve learned it quite well,” I say suggestively. I want this woman. I remember our experience too. It’s not only her who is affected. It’s me too!

I motion the waitress for the check. I pay, and we get up to leave. I proffer my hand to her to receive hers. When her fingertips touch, the connection is made again, and that damn pleasurable current finds its path through us. She feels it too. It’s in her gasp. I take her back to the car, open the passenger door for her. She climbs in. She’s quiet and thinking about all my revelations to her this morning. I want this to work so damn badly! What if she says no? Will I let her go? Will I be okay if she’s with some other fucker like the photographer, or the preppy Princetonian at the store, or someone like them?

I have to let her make her own decision, but I’m dying with jealousy. God! I give her a sideways glance. The proximity is intoxicating. The air is charged with electricity, and her scent is heady. All pure, all homey, all woman, all Anastasia!

I give my signal and get out of the freeway. I make my turn into her street and finally into her apartment complex, and pull into a parking lot, turning off the engine.

For a moment we gaze at each other wordless. Finally she collects herself and says with some unknown emotion, “Do you want to come in Christian?” Is it want? Desire?

“I can’t. I have to work. I have too much piled on,” I say. I want to, but I can’t be that close to her. I have to give her space, and I have to give myself space. Test myself. Test my will. I have to know if it is an actual desire, want, or something else. She’s too bewitching in this proximity.

My response makes her sad, but she lowers her gaze again to her hands not willing to show her emotions. Damn woman! I can’t take it! I take her right hand, and pull it to my lips and kiss each and every knuckle on her hand making her gasp. I find myself doing things I normally wouldn’t be doing with her. She has awe and adoration in her eyes with my gesture. We’re locked once again in our own little planet, a bubble at that.  

My brain finally connects with the rest of my body and my legs find their function. I get out of the car move to the passenger side. I open her door, hold my hand out to her. She accepts it. I’m full of these foreign emotions again.

“Thank you for this weekend again Anastasia,” I breathe fervently. “It’s been the best!” I say. Yes, simply the best. I don’t remember having a better one. Ever! “How about Wednesday? I’ll pick you up from work, or wherever you want me to pick you up from...” I trail off softly.

“Wednesday then,” she says simply. I kiss her hand again. She turns her head to the side. She’s in an emotional turmoil too. She looks bereft, confused and sad. But she hides her face from me, and turns to walk away holding her button of a nose in the air. Reminding me the way she walked away in the street after the photo shoot. What is wrong? As she walks away, she turns to me with an afterthought.

“Oh, Christian,” she brings me up from my tangled web of thought, “I’m wearing your underwear,” and shows the waistband to my boxer briefs. My jaw drops open. I’m completely shocked! She shocks me yet again! She, in my underwear, in my boxers is so fucking hot! If I didn’t have work to do, and if we weren’t in an open parking lot, I’d fuck her on the hood of my car! (←I don't Wanna Fall in Love by Wicked Games)  She smiles playfully seeing my face, and turns back smug, and walks away leaving me standing in my shocked gaze after her.

By the time I manage to gather myself with the south of my body with its own idea, I make my legs walk back to the car, and buckle up and pull away from the parking lot. I make my way to the Heathman Hotel. Taylor should be waiting for me at the hotel. I reach to the hotel, and a valet rushes up to me reverently. I toss the keys to him.

“Mr. Grey!” greets the doorman.

I take my Blackberry out, press the speed dial.

“Yes sir,” answers Taylor.

“I’m here,” I say.

“Yes sir, your usual suite is ready. I brought everything you asked for.”

“I’ll see you momentarily. I need to be briefed.”

“Yes sir,” Taylor says. I hang up.

Another waiting week. Fuck! I hate waiting. And this time I’ve tasted Miss Steele. It’ll be so much harder to wait till Wednesday. I walk into the hotel with the thoughts of Anastasia. I’m already missing her.

Damn! I hate waiting with a passion! It's not my style.

Wednesday then. I can’t ‘not’ have a way to stay in touch with her, not know what she is doing, who she is talking to, the thought of it is already killing me. I don’t think I can give her up. No matter how fair I want to be to her. She’s claimed me as much as I’ve claimed her. For now, get a grip Grey!

I walk into the hotel building, go through the lobby, and find the elevators. Press the call button. The memory of her in that elevator is still fresh. I've made up my mind. If I don't have her, I’ll go out of my mind without her! As it is, I’m wound tighter than the girdle on a Baptist minister at an all you can eat pancake breakfast! Breathe Grey, breathe. I walk into the elevator, and its doors close on me with my thoughts of Anastasia. (← Principles of Lust by Enigma)

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