Friday, June 29, 2012

Book II - Chapter II - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction



(Portland Printz image)
The minute I start holding Anastasia, I feel home, the gaping hole mended itself, my soul is intact. I allow myself to feel the connection, and indulge in this moment. I want her to forgive me; I will make her forgive me. (←Please Forgive Me by Bryan Adams)
I have never backed down from a challenge because it was hard; and I have achieved many impossibles. This is my chance to make this relationship right. I have to be shooting on all pistons. The energy, the usual electricity jolting through our connection is pulling me to her like Icarus to sun, and basking me in desire. I can see that she feels the same way. Though I now realize that I’ve hurt her, physically and emotionally, this is my day to right my ways.

A few minutes later Taylor pulls to a stop at the curb when we arrive the building housing the helipad.

“Come,” I shift Anastasia off my lap, “we’re here,” I say.

She glances up at me, questioning.

“Helipad – it’s on the top of this building,” I say as I glance towards the building by the way of explanation.

Taylor opens the door to the SUV, and Anastasia slides out. I come around the car from the other side, and notice Anastasia blushing to some exchange that must have gone between her and Taylor. I know Taylor is fond of her and was worried about her. I look at Taylor quizzically, and he stares back at me impassively, revealing nothing. Yep, he is protective of her as well.

“Nine?” I say to Taylor.

“Yes, sir.” I nod, and turn and lead Anastasia through the double doors into the grandiose foyer. My fingers are curled around Anastasia’s possessively, not willing to let them go. We’re drawn to each other once again, and I know she feels the same way as I do by the way she's stealing gazes, and squeezing my fingers back and the longing in her eyes. We reach the elevators and I press the call button. She peeks up at me, and I give her a smile. When the elevator arrives to the ground floor, the doors ding open, and I release her hand to usher her in.

When the doors close again, Anastasia peeks up at me once more. I glance down at her, my eyes alive. Here we are in the captivity of this pull, this electricity between us making the air palpable. It’s pulsing, vibrating, pulling like magnets, and drawing us together.

Anastasia gasps, “Oh my,” basking in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction we have between us. It has never left, but intensified with our separation.

“I feel it, too,” I say, my eyes clouded and intense with passion, desire and love for her. It’s pooling and radiating through my body. I clasp her hand and graze her knuckles with my thumb. I know she desires me right now because her body is so attuned to mine, we become as if we’re one entity. She clenches her hands and shifts her legs her body seeking relief. Of course, she starts biting her lip, increasing the desire in me for her.

“Please don’t bite your lip, Anastasia,” I whisper.

She gazes up at me, releasing her lip. Her eyes are bright with primal desire, longing and want. Here and now, in the elevator. It’s the same look, the same pull as the Heathman’s elevator.

“You know what it does to me,” I murmur. Her lips part as if this is a declaration she has not expected. Something brightens in her eyes. Hope? I realize something... She’s addicted to me too! (←Addicted by Saving Abel) 

But all too soon, the elevator reaches its destination and the doors open, breaking the spell between us. We’re on the rooftop. It’s windy, and though she has a jacket on, she shivers. I put my arm around her, pulling her to my side protected, and we hurry across where Charlie Tango stands in the center of the helipad with its rotor blades slowly spinning.

My pilot Stephan is standing in his tall, blond, square-jawed physique and his dark suit. He leaps out of Charlie Tango, and ducking low, runs towards us. I shake hands with him. I shout above the noise of the rotors.

“Ready to go, sir. She’s all yours!”

“All checks done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll collect her around eight thirty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Taylor’s waiting for you out front.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grey. Have a safe flight to Portland. Ma’am,” he says saluting Anastasia. Without releasing her hand, I nod, duck down, and lead her to the helicopter door.

Once I settle her inside, I buckle her firmly into the harness, cinching the straps tight. I give her a knowing look and my secret smile to Anastasia. She simply looks gorgeous in the harness.

“This should keep you in place,” I murmur. “I must say I do like this harness on you. Don’t touch anything.”

I run my index finger down her cheek as she flushes crimson before I hand her the headphones. How I missed touching her. She scowls at me. She’s tightly strapped in and barely able to move in her seat.

I sit in my seat and buckle myself in, and then I run through the preflight checks. I put on my headphones and flip a switch to speed up the rotors which sound deafening.

I turn and gaze at Anastasia. “Ready, baby?” I say through the headphones.

“Yes,” is her reply.

I grin at her knowing that she’s right here, with me is immensely comforting. Tonight is the night, baby. I’ll be winning you. I have all my cards lined up ready to spread them out, and I am hiding my Royal Flush; I have my poker face. I will not be losing tonight. (←Poker Face by Lady Gaga)
“Sea-Tac tower, this is Charlie Tango – Tango Echo Hotel, cleared for takeoff to Portland via PDX. Please confirm, over.”

The air traffic controller answers, issuing me instructions. We’re ready to takeoff.

“Roger, tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out.” I flip two switches, grasp the stick, and we rise slowly and smoothly into the evening Seattle sky.

“We’ve chased the dawn, Anastasia, now the dusk,” I say through the headphones. She turns and gapes at me in surprise. I smile at her, and she shyly smiles back at me.

“As well as the evening sun, there’s more to see this time,” I say. The last time she flew to Seattle with me from Portland, it was dark, but the evening view right now is quite spectacular. We’re up among the tallest buildings, going higher and higher.

“Escala’s over there,” I point toward my building. “Boeing is there, and you can just see the Space Needle,” I point at it.

She cranes her head to look. “I’ve never been,” she says.

“I’ll take you. We can eat there.”

She gives me a surprised look. “Christian, we broke up,” she says. It’s a stab into my heart. I am going to rectify that tonight.

“I know. I can still take you there and feed you,” I say glaring at her.

She shakes her head and flush. “It’s very beautiful up here, thank you.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” I say. I’m in awe of the scenery every time.

“Impressive that you can do this,” she says surprisingly complimenting me.

“Flattery from you, Miss Steele? But I’m a man of many talents,” I say.

“I’m fully aware of that, Mr. Grey,” she responds, tightening everything south of my body.

I turn and smirk at her, and a relaxing look slowly creeps over her face.

“How’s the new job?” I ask.

“Good, thank you. Interesting.”

“What’s your boss like?” I ask.

“Oh, he’s okay,” she says, and this rings the alarm bells in my head. Has he made a move towards her? She looks uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Aside from the obvious, nothing.” The obvious? What’s obvious?

“The obvious?” I ask.

“Oh, Christian, you really are very obtuse sometimes,” she says.

“Obtuse? Me? I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Miss Steele.”

“Well, don’t then,” she retorts making me smile. “I have missed your smart mouth,” I say.

All I hear is her gasp in response, but she keeps quiet, and gaze out the window to continue watching the sun go down on horizon like a large blazing fiery orange ball. What are you thinking Anastasia? Please give me an indication...

The dusk colors in Seattle sky are awe inspiring with opal, pink and aquamarine colors seamlessly woven together. We approach the crisp, clear evening Portland sky as its lights twinkle and wink in a way welcoming us both. I approach my destination, and set the helicopter down on the helipad. We’re on top of a brick building; the first place I picked Anastasia up in my helicopter for the first time in less than three weeks. It’s a testament how she changed me to my core in that short period of time. She became an essential part of my existence; a lifeline, without which I can't live. (←I Can't Live Without You by Mariah Carey)

It’s such a short time for some, but a lifetime for me as I feel that a time pre-Anastasia didn’t exist, as I can’t see my life without her. I finally power down Charlie Tango, and flip off switches and the rotors stop, and the noise of them subside and we can hear our own breaths through the headphones.

I unbuckle my harness, and lean across to unbuckle hers.

“Good trip, Miss Steele?” I ask, in a mild voice, as my eyes are glowing with the sight of my woman before me. Yes, she’s mine; and she'd do well to remember that!

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Grey,” she responds politely.

“Well, let’s go see the boy’s pictures,” I say as I hold my hand out to her and she takes it. She climbs out of Charlie Tango.

Old Joe is sitting and manning the security. As he sees us, he walks over and meets us, smiling broadly.

“Joe,” I smile at him. I release Anastasia’s hand to shake his warmly. I have always liked him.

“Keep her safe for Stephan. He’ll be along at eight or nine,” I say.

“Will do, Mr. Grey. Ma’am,” he says nodding at Anastasia. “Your car’s waiting downstairs, sir. Oh, and the elevator’s out of order; you’ll need to use the stairs,” he lets us know.

“Thank you, Joe,” I respond.

I take my woman’s hand, and we head to the emergency stairs.

“Good thing for you this is only three floors, in those heels,” I mutter. I don’t want her to fall and hurt herself, but I’m here to catch.

“Don’t you like the boots?” she asks.

“I like them very much, Anastasia,” I say as my gaze darkens. I like my woman in high heels. It’s the ultimate sexy. She turns me on in anything, but those high heels... 'Keep it together, Grey' I remind myself. I have a mission tonight, and I can’t be sidetracked.

“Come. We’ll take it slow. I don’t want you falling and breaking your neck.”

As we exit the building, the driver is waiting for us opening the door to let us in. We sit in silence as the driver takes us to the gallery. I’m nervous. I’ve told her, I’ve missed her and she said nothing. Has she found someone? That boss of hers? Has she been in contact with Jose since she left me? Is this why we’re here? Did she decide that he would be better for her as I’m too fucked up? Is she going to show me that he's a better match for her than I? I'm dying here! 'Keep it together... keep it together... keep it together...' I repeat in my head as a mantra. Why hasn’t she given me any indication that she missed me, or wants me, or some sort of feeling that shows her attachment to me? Did she stop loving me? I didn’t stop loving her! I couldn’t! I can’t even look at her as I am incredibly nervous.

“Jose is just a friend,” she finally murmurs.

I turn and gaze at her, as she answers my unspoken question. My eyes are dark, guarded, and wary, but giving nothing away. 'Am I just a friend, or more for you Ana?' I want to ask, but maybe I don't want her to answer that until she hears me out tonight. Her eyes linger on my mouth. How I wish to use it to claim you Anastasia! I shift in my seat and frown as I look at her face and her big blue eyes that have gotten even bigger after she lost weight.

“Those beautiful eyes look too large in your face, Anastasia. Please tell me you’ll eat,” I plead with her.

“Yes, Christian, I’ll eat,” she answers automatically.

“I mean it,” I say.

“Do you now?” she says with disdain. Oh, Please Ana, don’t start this now! I’m not here to fight, I’m here to win you back!

“I don’t want to fight with you, Anastasia. I want you back, and I want you healthy,” I say softly in my plea.

She looks surprised, and her lips part in a soft exhale. “But nothing’s changed,” she responds.

“Let’s talk on the way back. We’re here.”

The car pulls in front of the gallery, and I climb out, go around and open the door for her. She clambers out.

“Why do you do that?” she asks in a loud voice.

“Do what?” I ask taken aback. What have I done just now?

“Say something like that and then just stop.”

“Anastasia, we’re here. Where you want to be. Let’s do this and then talk. I don’t particularly want a scene in the street.”

She flushes and glances around. She realizes that it’s too public, and finally she presses her lips together as I glare down at her.

“Okay,” she mutters sulkily. I take her hand and lead her into the building.

The building is a converted warehouse with brick walls and dark wood floors, white ceiling to give building height, and the pipework are painted to white as well. It’s airy and modern, and a lot of people are wondering across the gallery floor, sipping wine, and admiring the photographs.

“Good evening and welcome to Jose Rodriguez’s show,” says a young woman dressed in black with very short brown hair, and bright fuck-me red lipstick, and large hooped earrings. She glances at Anastasia and her gaze stops on me, then she finally turns back at Anastasia, and she blinks and blushes. What’s the deal?

“Oh, it’s you, Ana. We’ll want your take on all this, too,” she says handing her a brochure and directs her to a table loaded with drinks and snacks.

Does she know Anastasia?

“You know her?” I ask frowning.

Anastasia shakes her head in the negative; she too is puzzled.

I shrug, distracted with my preoccupation with my current problem - winning my woman back. “What would you like to drink?” I ask.

“I’ll have a glass of white wine, thank you,” she says. My brow furrows because, generally wine is horrible at these kinds of events. But, I want to pick my battles, and this isn't the topic I want to fight over right now.

I head to the open bar. There is a line formed already, and someone notices who I am and makes a move to introduce himself. He's a man in his 30s, with dark hair, green eyes that are all too bright with some giddy excitement, like the semi-mad scientist. I hate small talk; and I like it less today.

“Forgive my bad manners sir, but, are you the Christian Grey?” says the man with green eyes that seem a little high from something and reaches to me from two people behind me, scooting forward, pushing the other two patrons out of the way as if they're just inanimate obstacles on his way. I give him a once over. He's in business casual, appropriate for such events.

“Excuse me...” bumps into the woman ahead of me, and “excuse me,” he says again to the guy behind him profuse in his apologies but that doesn't stop him bumping around some more to others clumsily with whatever excitment he's experiencing by meeting me.

“Yes, I am,” I say a little irritated; my mind pre-occupied. I’m not in the mood to exchange pleasantries, or meet people because I’m walking in the mine field right now trying to get back the woman I love.

“I’m a big fan of yours, sir!” he says gushing enthusiastically. “My name is George... George Dumass,” he says as he proffers his sweaty hand to me, and I take it reluctantly.

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Dumass,” I say flatly.

“Just like you, I’m into clean energy, too sir!” he gushes and jumps into a conversation I didn't know we started with a big smile on his face. “Here, let me give you my card. Call me, if you need any assistance,” he says. What kind of assistance would I need from a stranger?

I look at the man with an impassive gaze, “thank you, but there are proper channels to apply for a position in my company; it’s it not done on my leisure time, Mr. Dumass,” I say.

“Oh, no, I’m not looking for a position. I’m looking for a partnership,” he says, and I narrow my eyes on him.

“Partnership?” I say incredulous. “Mr. Dumb Ass, I don’t do partners, never have, never will!”

“Oh, it’s Dumass! My name is Dumass.”

“Well, Dumass, I’m not interested. This is my private time with my lovely girlfriend, and I am not on a business venture here. For any other business, use the proper channels!” I say menacingly running out of patience.

“But sir, you might be interested in what I have to offer!” he says persistently.

“Dumb Ass! Let me make it very. Very. Very. Clear.” I say enunciating.

“This is my private time, with my lovely girlfriend,” I say, also feeling her gaze on me. I turn to look at her, and our eyes lock. We’re both motionless for a minute, unable to move, unable to function. My gaze burns into her, hot, smoldering, lost to her, lost to the love I’m feeling for her. The sight of her hitches my breath, reminding me why I’m here. My mission is to get her back tonight. She’s talking to Jose until the Miss very short hair, big hoops, bright fuck-me red lipstick lady comes to get him away, and he kisses my woman! On the cheeks, but nonetheless, he kisses her. (←I'm Jealous by Shania Twain) I can barely contain myself, and the frigging line isn’t moving! The wine couldn’t be that good! What is it with people and the free booze? Mr. Dumb Ass with sweaty hands is like white on rice to me.

“Mr. Grey, it’ll be worth your while!”

I turn to him impatiently, and give him my icy glare which says I’m-not-to-be-fucked-right-now!

“What do you fucking not understand, when I say, I’m with my girlfriend, on my own private, leisure time! Do you like to be distracted when you have a private occasion going on dumb ass?”

“No, actually, I usually even turn my cell phone off...” he says, but I cut him off.

“Great! If there ever was an off chance that you would meet me, someplace else, again, and I have my girlfriend with me... Never. Ever. Interrupt me! I’ll make you regret it,” I say in a calm but menacing voice.

The man behind me turns to the sweaty hands and says, “Get in line man! Let the man have a peaceful date with his woman, and stop cutting the line!” Sweaty hands give up chagrined, and moves back into his place. I welcome this little comment from another stranger who just nods at me apologetically on behalf of the dumb ass, like cool water on a hot day. The fact that someone else pegged Anastasia as my woman is a good omen. I'll hold onto any hope I can.

Finally it’s my turn in the line.

“What kind of white wine do you have?” I ask with impatience to the bartender.

“Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc sir,” says the bartender showing me two no-name bottles. I make a face.

“Two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, then,” I say.

When I finally get on my way to get back to Anastasia she’s watching a photograph of a lake with early evening and pink clouds are reflected in the smooth surface of the water. It’s a peaceful image, perfectly reflecting the natural beauty. As I get near her, she takes a deep breath and swallows as if she’s trying to find her center. I hand her one of the glasses of white wine.

“Does it come up to scratch?” she asks in a normal voice.

Is she talking about the portraits?

“The wine,” she responds to my quizzical face.

“No. Rarely does at these kinds of events. The boy’s quite talented, isn’t he?” I ask admiring the lake photo.

“Why else do you think I asked him to take your portrait?” she says proud of her friend. My eyes glide impassively from the photograph to her. Jealousy creeping up.

“Christian Grey?” says the photographer from the Portland Printz. “Can I have a picture, sir?”

“Sure,” I say hiding a scowl. I need to keep my calm, though tornadoes are brewing inside me. Anastasia steps back, but I grab her hand, and pull her to my side. She’s my girlfriend. It’s not in the past tense. It will never be in the past tense if I can help it! The photographer looks at us and is quite surprised.

“Mr. Grey, thank you,” he says snapping a few pictures. “Miss...?” he asks.

“Steele,” she replies.

Let the whole damn world know that she is mine! She is taken, and so am I!

“Thank you, Miss Steele,” says the photographer scurrying off.

“I looked for pictures of you with dates on the Internet. There aren’t any. That’s why Kate thought you were gay,” says Anastasia making my mouth twitch into a smile.

“That explains your inappropriate question. No, I don’t do dates, Anastasia – only with you. But you know that,” I say willing her to see my sincerity, my affection for her.

“So, you never took your,” she says glancing around nervously trying to make sure no one can hear our conversation, “-one of your subs out?”

“Sometimes. Not on dates. Shopping, you know,” I say shrugging, my eyes fixed on her as if she’d bolt and this turns into a nightmare, and I wake up without her.

Her lips slightly part as she comprehends that she has been the only one. The only exception to all my rules.

“Just you, Anastasia,” I whisper. (←You’re Still the One by Shania Twain)
She blushes and stares down at her fingers. I wish she understood how deeply she’s rooted in my soul! I wish I could express it to her properly without fucking it up! I’ve never done hearts and flowers. When she looks back up to me, “Your friend here seems more of a landscape man, not portraits. Let’s look around,” I say and hold my hand out to her, and she takes it. I briefly close my eyes and bask in our connection.

We walk around the gallery, see a few of the pictures, and a couple nods at Anastasia, smiling broadly at her as if they’re on a Sunday picnic with the church, and Anastasia is the choir girl they’ve known so well! I don’t think it’s because of me, because they’re glaring at her! What's the deal?

Then, another young man just unabashedly stares at her with his jaw dropping open, ogling the sight of MY woman!

As we turn the corner, the reason why everyone is staring at her becomes apparent. There are SEVEN huge portraits of Anastasia hanging on a far wall. They’re immense!

As her blood drains from her face, mine boils, and I’m ready to blow my top! There are giant pictures of Anastasia, laughing, serious, pouting, scowling, amused, serene, and mock mad. But somehow I feel that they are as intimate as if they were nude images of her. All up close and all in black and white. I look at each picture, transfixed. At this very moment, I realize that I’ve never seen her this intimately, this at ease, without worries clouding her beautiful eyes. And the fact that it was the photographer who captured those images, and he was the one to provide those simple, happy moments ache me inside, making me jealous, envious of that fucker. I’m captivated by the images... Simply captivated by her simple magic, her exuding innocence, and the serenity she has in her expression. She's breathtaking!

“Seems I’m not the only one,” I mutter, completely realizing that the photographer too is in love with her. My mouth settles into a hard line. I don’t mind competition in business, but, I don’t want anyone competing over my girlfriend. Since everyone recognized her, and appears all the patrons are enamored by her images, I don’t want anyone purchasing those pictures to ogle over her in the privacy of their homes.

“Excuse me,” I say to Anastasia, pinning my gaze on her to transfix her in her place. I walk back to the Miss Very Short Hair, Big Hoops, and bright fuck-me red lipstick lady.

“I want to purchase the photographs of Anastasia!” I say firmly.

“Great!” she says brightly. “Which one?”

I glare at her incredulous. “All of them!”

“Really?” she asks brightly. “I mean, sure... of course. The cost of each picture is...” she says and I cut her off.

“I don’t care how much it costs. I will buy all seven portraits of Anastasia!” I say, and fish out my credit card, and hand it to her.

“Of course, sir!” she says brightly. After she runs my credit card, and hands me the slip to sign, she collects the delivery information.

“I want you to find Mr. Rodriguez, and tell him to make sure not to make any other copy of those pictures!”

“Oh, but, he owns the negatives. You’re only buying the prints, Mr. Grey,” she says.

“Well then,” I say impatiently, “it appears, I’m also buying the negatives. I need a written statement from him that he’s not to make any other copies from the negatives of Anastasia’s images that I’m purchasing, and should he have any other images or negatives of her, he’s not to print or display them without her written consent. Do I make myself clear?” I say in a threatening voice.

“Yes, sir, perfectly!” she says all flustered. Problem resolved. I finally turn to get back to Anastasia, and I find a man with a blond mane ogling my girlfriend, talking to her. Can’t a man turn his back without the possibility of someone else moving in on his woman? I quickly make my way back to her, and my hand is at her elbow possessively. I look over her head impassively to the blond mane clearly staking my territory.

“You’re a lucky guy,” says the blond mane, smirking at me. I stare back at him coldly.

“That I am,” I mutter darkly, and pull my woman over to my side, with my possessive arm tightly wrapped around her shoulder, claiming proprietorship, in a way daring anything male to get near her without getting through me.

The blond mane gets my drift, and walks away.

“Did you buy one of these?” asks Anastasia.

“One of these?” I snort, without taking my eyes off them.

“You bought more than one?” she asks incredulous.

I roll my eyes at her. “I bought them all, Anastasia. I don’t want some stranger ogling you in the privacy of their home,” I say, but that’s the least of my worries. Those images are very intimate in a private way.

“You’d rather it was you?” she says teasing.

I glare down at her, caught off guard by my audacious girlfriend (in the present tense), but I’m amused because she’s being playful.

“Frankly, yes,” I reply.

“Pervert,” she mouths and bites her lower lip, making my mouth drop open. I stroke my chin thoughtfully, what I'd love to do to you when you're talking to me like that and biting that lip.

“Can’t argue with that assessment, Anastasia,” I say shaking my head, and my mood lightens. Anastasia’s eyes take a playful look, she licks her lower lip and says conspiratorially, “I’d discuss it further with you Mr. Grey, but I’ve signed an NDA.”

I sigh, gazing at her, my eyes darkening. Do you have any idea what you do to me with your smart mouth? How you rile all sorts of emotions up, and turn me on? “What I’d like to do to your smart mouth,” I murmur. I can utilize it in more ways than one, baby.

She gasps, completely comprehending my meaning.

“You’re very rude,” she says sounding shocked.

I smirk at her, feeling amused. But then my eyes glance back at the images, making me frown. I wish I was the one who made her feel at ease like she has been in those pictures.

“You look very relaxed in these photographs, Anastasia. I don’t see you like that very often,” I say, almost mournful.

She flushes and instinctively looks down to her fingers. I don’t want her to be embarrassed of me. I tilt her head back, and she inhales sharply at our skin to skin contact.

“I want you that relaxed with me,” I whisper. It’s my vow. I will make sure she is that relaxed and happy with me.

“You have to stop intimidating me if you want that,” she snaps at me.

“You have to learn to communicate and tell me how you feel,” I snap back at her with blazing eyes. I always try to be explicit with her, but she’s so closed up to me sometimes. Anastasia looks up at me and takes a deep breath to give me a piece of her mind.

“Christian, you wanted me as a submissive. That’s where the problem lies. It’s in the definition of a submissive. In fact you e-mailed it to me once,” she says pausing, trying to recall exact wording I used in my message. “I think the synonyms were, and I quote, ‘compliant, pliant, amenable, passive, tractable, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued.’ I wasn’t supposed to look at you. Not talk to you unless you gave me permission to do so. What do you expect?” she hisses at me.

I blink at her clear assessment of the problem. Of course I have realized of late that my main problem when this relationship was that I had entered into a contractual relationship and I've fallen in love. But then, that was the only kind of relationship I had ever known or had ever been interested. But, almost from the first moment I met Anastasia, I knew she was different, but I never knew that I would fall madly in love with her. There had been other subs who wanted more, and either I broke with them, or they found someone else and broke up with me. I never gave a second thought to it, because I had no feelings for them. But, this woman before me, this innocent girl, holds me accountable, and can go toe to toe with me. It’s refreshing, and maddening, and sexy and scary. She’s bold, and unfortunately, she’s right. My frown deepens as she continues to speak.

“It’s very confusing being with you. You don’t want me to defy you, but then you like my ‘smart mouth.’ You want obedience, except when you don’t, so you can punish me. I just don’t know with way is up when I’m with you.”

My eyes narrow. She’s speaking, and she bared her soul to me. She’s communicating and that’s what I want. But I don’t want this to cement our break-up and erect the tombstone on the relationship we could – no, we will have. “Good point well made, as usual, Miss Steele.” I say in a frigid voice. “Come, let’s go eat.”

She laid down her cards, now it’s my turn.

“We’ve only been here for half an hour,” she protests.

“You’ve seen the photos; you’ve spoken to the boy,” I retort.

“His name is Jose,” she reprimands me.

Fine! “You’ve spoken to Jose – the man who, the last time I met him, was trying to push his tongue into your reluctant mouth while you were drunk and ill,” I snarl at her.

“He’s never hit me!” she spit at me, and that hurts my feelings. I scowl at her, and fury is emanating out of my pores. That’s it! We’re leaving right now, even if I have to put her on my shoulder with a swat on her delectable behind in front of all these patrons and the press! “That’s a low blow, Anastasia,” I whisper menacingly.

She flushes, and I’m doubly exasperated running both my hands through my hair, anger is bristling out of me, I can hardly contain it. It’s like that with Anastasia… I never know what she will say or do, and she can make me angry like no one can and I want to both punish and love her at the same time. I have all these foreign emotions I have never experienced before, making me incredibly possessive of her, and right now I just want to kiss her, fuck her, love her and spank her all at the same time, and none of which will sate this overflowing feeling in me!

Of course she just glares back at me like no one can.

“I’m taking you for something to eat. You’re fading away right in front of me. Find the boy, say goodbye!” I say.

“Please, can we stay longer?” she asks.

“No. Go. Now. Say goodbye!” I enunciate. I have long passed my tolerable limit.

She glares at me, her anger is making her crimson all the way to her hairline. She narrows her eyes on me; and if it was at all possible, she would be steaming out of her ears! She finally drags her gaze away from me looking for the boy. Finally locating him, she walks away from me to the boy to say her goodbyes.

There are a few girls around the photographer. I’m standing in my spot, transfixed, impatience is vibrating through me, and I am through waiting. We are going to lay all our cards tonight, and by God, I’m going to win you back Anastasia Steele! I find myself tapping my foot on the floor out of nerves. Ana is some distance away, but my gaze doesn’t leave her, and I don’t even blink.

The fucking photographer sweeps my woman into a big bear hug and spins her! Blood rushes to my head, my eyes darken, and the anger I have barely contained under wraps is now overflowing. Then in a calculating move, Anastasia, my Anastasia, my woman, wraps her arms around the fucker’s neck who is happy to be wrapped in her arms as he too is in love with her! I’m so fucking mad! If I have to drag Anastasia by the hair like the cave man, I will do it. My glare darkens, and jealousy is killing me! What is she trying to do to me? Anastasia Steele, you will be the death of me! Have you any idea, how much in love I am with you! Do you know the extents I would go in a heartbeat to keep you in my life? Do you have any idea of the kind of hell I have been though in the past week because of your absence? And here you are showing affection to a man I know you have no feelings for just to make me fucking jealous! I’m so pissed at you right now, I just want to claim you in the nearest place with semi privacy!

I slowly make my way toward them. She’s still wrapped in his arms talking shit with him. Man, if you don’t get your fucking arms off her, I will pull them off of you! Just as I am only a few steps away from them, that fucker reaches and hugs her tighter, and I speed up my feet, and reach Anastasia, seething with anger, glowering at her, and reach for her elbow.

The douche bag releases her finally, and says, “Don’t be a stranger, Ana. Oh, Mr. Grey, good evening,” he says like he just noticed my presence here. Yes, you’d do well to remember Christian Grey who is going to resume his status as Anastasia’s boyfriend. Keep your fucking arms off her!

I barely contain myself, and barely can utter in an icily polite voice, “Mr. Rodriguez, very impressive,” I say. “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer, but we need to head back to Seattle. Anastasia?” I say subtly stressing on ‘we’ emphasizing us being a couple, and take her hand as I do so.

“Bye, Jose. Congratulations again,” she says giving him a quick kiss on his cheek to blow my volcano of an anger. That’s about all I can take. I grab her hand, and drag her out of the building. All kinds of hormones are ravaging my body and my brain. Anger, jealousy, and frustration are at explosive levels, and I’m just sweating like a sinner at church with all these raging emotions!

When I get outside the building, I look quickly up and down the street, and then head left and suddenly sweet her into a side alley, and I abruptly push her against a wall with all my feelings are exploding out of me. I can’t take it that the woman I’m in love with was just in someone else’s arms, hugging and kissing, and I haven’t even kissed her yet. I grab her face between my hands, forcing Anastasia to look up into my fierce determined eyes. (←Principles of Lust by Enigma)

She gasps as she realizes the intensity of my desire, and my mouth swoops down on hers. I’m kissing her violently, uncontrollably; teeth clashing. Then my tongue is in her mouth seeking hers forcefully.

Desire in both of us explodes like Mount Vesuvius and to my relief, she’s kissing me back, matching my fervor with her own; her hands knotting in my hair, pulling it hard to her, trying to merge our bodies together as if our separation bred an unmatched hunger in her… for me! Her response makes me groan in the back of my throat reverberating through her body, and rapidly my hand moves down her body to the top of her thigh, my fingers digging into her soft flesh through her sexy plum dress.

My anxiety, my desire, my longing for her, and the fear that cultivated that unnamed emotion, that jealousy, and the fear of loss pour through me into her through my kiss, binding us together, and at this moment I realize that we both feel the same way.

I will eternally be sealed with this kiss, and I kiss her long and hard until I absolutely run out of breath in my lungs. My eyes are burning embers with desire for her, and passion in my body, in my blood is searing through me. I’m man on fire! (←Ring of Fire sung by Joaquin Phoenix) We’re both breathless, and I make my declaration to her.

“You. Are. Mine,” I snarl at her emphasizing each word, enunciating, pouring all my love for her. What can I do to make her understand that there is nothing more precious for me than having her in my life, in my arms, in my heart? What Ana? Tell me!

I push away from her bending, as I put my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath as if I ran a marathon, and I did…for days, after her, trying to get her. Trying to give her space… Trying to give her time to think… Trying to give her the opportunity to sort her feelings. But, I’m spent! I’m a man in love... I just can’t live without her! Even if she is hugging some guy in a friendly manner, or trying to get a rise out of me – well… the reasons don’t matter, because no matter what they are, I’m equally, passionately, and most ardently in love with her and completely jealous of any regard she might otherwise show another guy!

“For the love of God, Ana,” I say my voice plea.

She leans against the wall, panting, and trying to control her own body’s reaction, trying to find her center.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers in a breathy voice.

“You should be,” I say my voice cracking with the overwhelming feelings making a lump in my throat. “I know what you were doing. Do you want the photographer Anastasia? He obviously has feelings for you,” I say praying, ‘please say no, please say no, please say no!’ The moment I saw Anastasia’s photographs in the gallery with her smiling, pouting, making faces, mock angry… I felt no greater jealousy before of her or of anyone, or anything else because someone had seen and captured her in such an intimate way that I had not. I realized that the photographer too was in love with her. I just can’t bear seeing her with someone else in any real or imaginary capacity.

She flushes after my fervent question, and shakes her head in the negative.

“No,” she says to my utter relief. “He’s just a friend.”

I give a sigh of relief.

“I have spent all my adult life trying to avoid any extreme emotion,” I say looking into her eyes, my voice breaking. “Yet you… you bring out feelings in me that are completely alien. It’s very…” I say frowning, grasping for the right word. “Unsettling.” But it’s beyond that. My heart, my soul, destiny are all in her palms to do as she wishes, as she wants to mold them… whether she wants to keep them, or toss them away. I have never, ever been this vulnerable before! Not in so many years. I have had many women in my life, but I have never been cruel to any of them. I had not toyed with their feelings. Yet, anything small thing Anastasia does could make or break me! That’s the depth of my love for her. Anastasia is the only person in the world who can put me in a vertical casket with one of her disregarding look… That’s the extent of her power on me; it scares me to my core. My life and fate are in her delicate hands!

“I like control, Ana, and around you that just” – I stand, my gaze intense, “evaporates,” I say waving my hand vaguely, and then run it through my hair taking a deep breath. I clasp her hand.

“Come, we need to talk, and you need to eat.”

And, I’m ready to lay all my cards out, and I’m not leaving this battle without winning my woman back.

Gotta run to class! I've been up since 2 a.m. to get this ready for posting. Hope you like it!

Monday, June 25, 2012

Book II-Chapter I-Christian and Anastasia FanFiction


“Mommy, I’m hungry!” I say looking for her. But mommy isn’t here.
“Mommy! Mommy!” Mommy is in the bedroom. I go to the door. I’m not supposed to open it if it is closed. But I’m too hungry. The door is very dirty. It has spots all over it. I reach for the handle. There is noise inside. Mommy is crying. Is she hurt? The man is here. I’m not supposed to go in when the man is in there. But I’m too hungry. I slowly open the door. I peek inside. Mommy is bent over the small bed. She’s holding onto the metal bar. She’s naked. The bad man is behind mommy. He has no shirt, but he has pants on. I only see his back. He’s pushing mommy. Mommy is crying. “Don’t! Please! Stop!” she is saying.

“I own you! If I want pussy, I get pussy, you whore!”
“The kid’s in the apartment, please!” she begs some more. Oh, I’m the kid.

“Mommy,” I say scared. “I’m hungry...”
Mommy cries harder. “Jesus Christ!” mommy sounds upset. “Please, let me go! My kid…” she says her voice scared and small.

He yanks his unbuckled belt off his pants very fast and hits mommy with it. Mommy cries out. He’s so angry. He turns back to me and his pee-pee is hanging out. I run to the kitchen. There is no place to hide. I hide under the sink. He finds me. My little hands are shaking. I cover my face with my hands. Maybe he won’t see me. But he always does. He grabs my elbow and pulls me out of the cabinet. My arm scratches. I hit my head under the counter. I’m scared to cry. He hits me harder if I cry. If I make no sound maybe he won’t make me bleed.
“You cost me my fun you little shit!” He pulls me and turns me over. He pulls my shorts down, and hits and hits and hits me. It hurts.

“Mommy!” I cry out. “Mommy it hurts! Help me mommy!” He remembers his belt in mommy’s room. He gets up, and drags me by my arm to mommy’s room. He tosses me on the bed. He takes the belt and starts hitting me. I scream. It hurts a lot! Mommy curls up on the floor. When I scream she cries more. But mommy doesn’t come to stop him. She just cries louder in the bedroom. He drops me to the floor. He holds his big foot up. Then he kicks me. I roll on the floor. Finally the wall stops me. I silently cry. I cover my mouth to stop the noise.

“The bitch and her fucking bastard!” he yells. He turns his back. I hear his footsteps leaving. I’m scared to look. Is he gone? I’m hurt. My head is bleeding a little. Mommy slowly crawls. She grabs the old shirt from the floor. She puts it on. Mommy’s hands are shaking. She doesn’t look at me. She crawls to the bathroom. I keep watching mommy still silently crying. She comes back out of the bathroom. Mommy’s eyes are big, red, and scared. She is holding a small bottle. Mommy won’t look at me. She goes to the kitchen. I slowly follow her. She turns the faucet on. Then she fills the dirty cup with water. She comes to sit on the couch still shaking. Tears are coming from her eyes, but she makes no sound. Just tears.
Mommy opens the bottle. She shakes it. She looks at it. She looks at me with her sad eyes. She cries a little more. She doesn’t smile. She holds the bottle up to her mouth. Pours it. She drinks the water. I’m hungry too mommy, I think to myself. But I won’t say it. Mommy is sad. She lies on the couch.
“Come here Christian,” she says. I walk to her.

“Lay down next to mommy,” mommy says. I climb on the sofa. I lay down next to her. She holds me. I’m hungry. But mommy is holding me. Its better she’s holding me. Mommy’s eyes cries more. She still makes no sound. She kisses the top of my head.
“Goodbye Christian,” she says. Mommy is tired. She’s going to sleep. “Goodnight mommy,”I say. We are going to sleep.

I wake up. I push mommy. It’s dark outside.

“Mommy, I’m still hungry,” I say. But she won’t wake up.

There is the small bottle next to her. She ate from it today. And there is no lid on it. I pick it up. Something rattles inside. A toy? It’s small. Something to eat! I’m too hungry! I drop the small food from the bottle onto my hand. It’s not round. Maybe I can eat it. Its mommy’s food, but maybe mommy won’t mind. I’m so very hungry. I put it in my mouth and chew it. It tastes bad, it’s bitter. I spit it out.

“Mommy! I’m thirsty!” But, mommy is too tired and she won’t move. I walk on the sticky green rug. I go to the kitchen. I push the chair to the sink. I am thirsty and my mouth is hot. There is a dirty cup in the sink. It is sticky and has brown spots in it. I pour water from the faucet and drink it. Yuck!

I go back to sleep with mommy. Maybe she will feed me when she wakes up. Mommy is cold. I have my blankie. I cover her. I put my head on mommy arm. “My tummy hurts mommy...” I cry. I’m too hungry. My tears fall onto mommy’s shirt.

“Can I have something to eat when you wake up mommy? Please mommy.”

I cry and cry, but mommy doesn’t hear me.

I bolt upright in bed waking up with the sound of my own cries. I look around. It’s dark, but the light from the city of Seattle is seeping from my floor to ceiling windows. I see the Space Needle in the distance with the city lights in the backdrop. Fuck! My nightmares are back.


Miserable, sleepless nights will be my companion again. I get up from the bed. My side table now houses the Blahnik L23 model glider. I worked till later hours to build it. My hands caress over it. A gift from my first love. The first love I fucked up royally yesterday into a breakup! How did we get from nearly making love over the piano to break up in a matter of couple hours? She hates me… The thought of it hitches my breath bringing another choking sound to my throat. I look at the note she left me again. (Always on My Mind by Michael Buble)
This reminded me a happy time.” Fucking tears betray me. They brim my eyes, threatening to fall. Backs of my hands fly to my eyes as if to hold the tears back. I roughly rub them willing them to go back down… I really fucked up!

There is a gaping hole in my soul; something gnawing at me inside. What is that pain I have never experienced? It’s is as if part of me died. Not some other being, or another person, but as if I died. I eye the clock. 3:13 a.m. I can go over to Anastasia’s and beg her forgiveness. How do I live with this pain? I’m being clawed from inside out like a ferocious lion is caged in me and feeding on my heart! What Promethean misery I’m going through! Like my fucking heart grows all over again for that torturous lion to devour and consume, feasting on it, one painful bite at a time! I’ve lost my purpose in life...

You love her, you fucking, worthless bastard! Of all the people to fall in love, you fall in love with an angel and drag her right into your personal hell! I play the scene in my head over and over again. Shame is heavy on me. I have taken pleasure in her pain. It turned me on! God, forgive me! Of course she hates me…she asked me to hit her to please me, but she couldn’t take it. Am I not better off being with someone with no emotions, no attachments, and just fucking? Like Pre-Anastasia times? Is she not better off without me? I’m nothing but destruction for her, and Kate said it herself… “She cries all the time since she met you!” So, she was happy before she met me. I have seen a glimpse of that happiness when we were in Georgia, soaring… It was a happy time. If I give her space, some other fucker will slide in my place immediately. I can’t take that! I would simply die, or I kill the fucker! Either way, I’d be destroying us both… Isn’t love giving everything without expecting anything back in return?

I’d give my life to Anastasia without thinking. If she needs my heart, I’d cut it out myself without thinking! But knowing that she’s with someone else would destroy me. Every fiber in my being tells me I’m bad for her. She’d be miserable with me. But, I want her…back. She’s mine, and mine alone! I’m a fucking selfish man. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. I’ll be whatever she wants me to be.
Anastasia loves me. It sinks into my head now and I’ve been so scared when she told me. When she actually told me when she’s awake and conscious.

I’ve fallen in love with you Christian! I’ve fallen in love with you Christian! I’ve fallen in love with you Christian! I’ve fallen in love with you Christian!” Her declaration plays in my head over and over again. I’ll do anything to get her back and keep her happy. How could I turn my back when I full well know that she loves me, and I her? What’s keeping us apart other than my fuck ups? Dr. Flynn said that it’s once in a lifetime to find someone you love and who loves you back with the same intensity. Once in a lifetime! And I’m not about to screw that! (I Never Told You by Colbie Caillat)

She told me she hated being hit as much as I hated being touched! Why then did I acquiesce with her request being hit? Why didn’t she safeword? I swear to God, when I get her back, I’m not putting her in my Playroom again even if she begged me. I’m vibrating with anger at myself! I should not have let her talk me into spanking her with the belt! I behaved stupidly! I get up from the bed with determination, and take my key to the Playroom. I open the door, and turn my head to the lined up belts and whips and punishment items. I hoist them off the wall one by one. I gather them in my arm like a pile of firewood. I walk back to the living room, and pile them into the huge fireplace. Mrs. Jones isn’t going to like cleaning this up, but I need to burn this shit…cleanse a piece of my soul with fire... Either I burn myself, or I burn these! Everything I do hurt her! I want…no I need to make her happy.

My fucking world is collapsing around me. She didn’t want me to touch her. Oh, God! I'm miserable... She hates my touch now! How can I get over that? The fire in the fireplace first licks the belts, whips, and flogs; then liking the taste of them engulfs the leather punishment tools like a hungry monster. I watch them burn, completely detached. With it, I burn part of my past. Offering part of my dark soul in a burnt offering.

After fire consumes part of my past sins, I slowly walk to my study. Since Anastasia left me yesterday, pain became my constant companion. The likes of which I have not experienced before. I close my door when I walk into my office. I fire up my laptop. I want to write her my declaration of love, but it will scare her away knowing how fucked up I am, and I will end up hurting her more. I find myself googling my name under the images. I go down the pages, and finally find the picture of me and Anastasia taken on her graduation. I save it. I look at the picture of her. How such a short time ago it was taken, and how she captured me body and soul. That was the day she agreed to be with me though in such a different context than I am now willing to go. What have you done to me Ana? I’m a broken man without you. Aimless...purposeless... How you became my lifeline.

I have to do something. It’s not in me to just sit and do nothing while I’m broken, my girlfriend is broken, and we’re broken apart. I’m meaningless without her, but some fucker will make the attempt to get into her life which will be end of his and mine! Fuck!

I go to my room to take a quick shower. The shower has too many memories of Anastasia for me to linger in it too long without hurting myself physically and emotionally. I’m at my final limits already. I can’t take too much more. I routinely wash my hair, soap my body, and purposefully rinse off and come out. My chest is still sore and red, but I welcome the pain. It’s the only real thing that reminds me that Anastasia was part of my life. I get out of the shower and dry myself, and put my sweats on, and my running shoes. When I walk back to the living room, I see Mrs. Jones working in the kitchen.
She eyes me warily, seeing my improved demeanor compared to yesterday, she asks, “Would you like to have your breakfast now Mr. Grey?”

“Yes. Thank you Mrs. Jones.”

“Omelet okay sir?” she asks.
“And fruit please,” I respond. My reply makes her look up and give me a genuine smile.

“Of course, sir,” she replies in her professional tone.

She hands me my coffee. My breakfast is before me within a few minutes. I eat it automatically, not out of want or need, but out of habit. Taylor walks into the living room and takes his usual place by the entry. I turn my head, and with my nod he walks towards me. His eyes are unyielding, not giving anything away. Nothing about me falling apart in his and Mrs. Jones' presence.
“Taylor, I’m going to go for a run.”

“I’ll suit up sir,” he responds.
“No, not necessary. I’m just going to run to Dr. Flynn’s office,” he lifts one eyebrow slightly. But then his face goes back to his usual demeanor as if he tugged the edges of a wrinkled sheet. Nothing out of the ordinary, and everything serene, and calm on his face.

“Would you like me to pick you up after sir?”
“No.” I need time to be alone. “But, I need something else from you.”

“Anything sir,” he says enthusiastically as if normalcy returning to our lives.

“I need you to keep an eye on Miss Steele. You said she didn’t look...” I stop there to hide the breaking in my voice, “well, she wasn’t well yesterday given the circumstances.” Taylor nods, his eyes harden, his jaw tightens, and he swallows as if he’s trying to pass a boulder through his esophagus. That’s all the response he can manage. Yeah! Anastasia got to us all, and even Taylor is fond of her. I suspect he’s mad at me, but he won’t show it.
“I want you to check and see how much money she’s got in her account. Since she left her Blackberry here, track her old phone. Being as distraught as she was,” I say, and knowing she’s closed up, and her roommate is away, I don’t want any harm to come to her, “I want to ensure her safety.” Taylor nods. "Check her account periodically to see if she deposits her money. Knowing how stubborn she is, she may decide against depositing the money. I will deal with that when it comes to that point." I have to do something to dull this ache in me. I dismiss Taylor, and collecting Ana’s laptop, Blackberry and car keys, I walk back to my study. I have to show that I can fight for you Anastasia!

I pick my Blackberry up, and dial Dr. Flynn. He answers after the third ring, groggy with sleep.

“John!” I say unable to hide the distress in my voice. That one word wakes him up completely.

“What’s wrong?”
“Anastasia left me yesterday, and I think I’m dying!”

“Let’s talk. What happened?”
“I don’t wanna talk on the phone. 20 minutes, your office,” I say firmly.

He pauses, “one second,” he says and asks his wife something in a muffled voice. Then he comes back up, “okay, see you in 20!” I hang up.
I run to Dr. Flynn’s office. The pain when Anastasia left me yesterday was a shock to my body. It came with such a force that it jolted me out of my physical body. Today, I’m settled back in my body, and I’m experiencing the pain with every single sting, hurt, and agony. When I come to John’s office, he’s not there yet. I pace back and forth in front of the door. If the stone was carpet, I’d have worn out a trail on it. John makes it to his office three minutes late, takes in the condition of my face. I notice he has his jeans and t-shirt on. It’s Sunday, and this is an emergency call.

As soon as he opens the door, I walk in.
“Do come in Christian,” he says in a semi-mocking voice, but I feel the smile behind it. I head directly into his office. John walks back to his leather chair, indicating me to sit at the sofa. I sit, but I get up, restless. He eyes me.

“Christian, I think...” he says but I cut him off.
“John, I’m in purgatory!” that shocks him, both his eyebrows shut up, and looks at me as if I’ve grown antlers. Unable to find the right word, he settles for, “do tell.”

I pace the room, and stop right before him. “Anastasia was with me last night. I was so excited, and completely relieved to see her after she got back from Georgia. In fact, the whole shit with Leila has kept me preoccupied, and I wasn’t operating on all pistons...” I start pacing again exasperated, I get back to the sofa, exhausted.
“I was ready to make concessions for her, John. But, one thing led to another, and she rolled her eyes at me, and I would spank her for it. She knew that. And she made a game out of it. I started chasing her playfully and she finally said that she feels the same way about being punished as I feel about being touched! This revelation was horrifying for me...” I say and get back up to pacing.

“How did that make you feel?” asks John. I have to check on the Shrink 101 manual if this question is the first thing they teach them. But, when I turn to look at him with exasperation, I notice that he actually is leaning over and totally engrossed in what I’m saying, as if to say ‘then what happened?’ Whatever I end up revealing to him, he always manages to keep the ‘I’ve heard it all,’ demeanor. This is different. This is something he hasn’t heard before.
“It knocked the breath out of me, and I disgusted myself! But then Anastasia said, it’s not quite as bad as I know about touching. She said she was ambivalent about it. She just doesn’t like to be punished, but if it’s for fun, she doesn’t mind. She said it depended on the context...” I give out a deep sigh. John makes an impatient sign gesturing with his right hand with the pen as if to say ‘go on.’

“But then she said, ‘show me. show me how bad it can hurt.’ I didn’t want to do it at first! It's like saying 'here's your favorite cocktail! Show me how much you love it!' to a recovering alcoholic. I asked her repeatedly if this is what she wanted. And,” I groan raising my head heavenward as if howling, “I finally gave in, and I spanked her with a belt six times. She didn’t stop me, she didn’t safeword, and once it was over, she didn’t want to do anything with me!" I say in one fast, exasperated, tired breath. "I think she just simply hates me now...” I say sagging like a defeated man. Defeated by life, defeated by love.

“Do you really think she hates you, or is it that particular aspect, that particular need you have that she hates?”

“She looked at me with loathsome eyes, and it would have been better if she hit me, shot me, stabbed me, even killed me... anything but that look, John! I can’t get it out of my head! She looked broken. I’ve broken her. I went after her, but I think if she had the strength she would have pushed me. I spent the rest of the dawn holding her, asking her forgiveness, and praying that she would stop hating me. But what she revealed later was worse than hate...” I say sagging even further.

“What did she reveal?” Dr. Flynn asked with eyebrows shooting up as if this the climax of 'Best of Freud' the miniseries, his voice an octave higher, realizing he cleared his throat and gestured with his hand.

“She said she’s fallen in love with me,” I say with a small voice, completely undeserving of her regard.

“Why do you feel undeserving of her love?” John asks genuinely.
“Look at it John! I make her miserable with what I want to do to her. I do want to punish, but, I think that changed. I will stay away from anything that would drive her away from me. I burned all the belts, and whips and floggers this morning in the fireplace!”

I could have knocked Dr. Flynn with a feather; he just sagged back into his seat looking at me agape.
You did what?” he sounds like he is squeaking.

“I burned them, and burn part of my past with it. I’m ready to sort my shit out for Ana.”
Speechless is not a word that I could associate Dr. Flynn. He always has a professional opinion, or has his shrink quips. He stares at me for a long moment and finally speaks.

“Christian, Anastasia achieved more progress in you in the course of in the last few weeks, than I did in the last two years!”

“Look where I am now. I’ve screwed it up royally! I used to think of her like the ‘Rock of Gibraltar’, invincible, you know... But I’m too damn tainted! I destroyed her! I took her love, and almost shoved it to her face. I got scared John! I’m undeserving of her love!”

I look up as I’m spiraling down again. I sag back down, onto the floor this time.

“Christian!” utters Dr. Flynn as he shoots up to his feet.

“Tell me how to fix this John!” I plead with him on the floor, looking up, a broken man. “I want her back. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make it work...”

Dr. Flynn slowly walks out of his seat. He walks around and grabs one of the pillows and casually tosses it onto the floor.

“I can’t see you on the floor... Are you asking me this as your friend, or as your shrink?” he asks as he lowers himself to the floor near me, but finding the seating option uncomfortable. He shifts.

“As you know, I’m both for you,” he says. I look up. “I need both, John” I reply.

“Well then,” he says, “how about we begin with finding more comfortable seating? I too work out, but it appears, it’s not as often as you do. Shall I sit back in my own seat, while you occupy the couch, Christian? I really am not good at yoga squats,” he says wincing.

A small smile creeps on my face, but disappears before reaching my eyes. I scoots myself back to the sofa, and locating it with my hands I rise up and sit back on it. Dr. Flynn feels a little better with that concession. He gets up, and picks the pillow up from the floor, and goes back to his seat.

John looks at me intently. “I’m asking this question as your shrink and your friend now, and I’ve asked this question before: What are you willing to give up for her? What are you willing to do?”

“Whatever it takes!”

“It’s not specific, Christian. I’m asking again: What are your concessions? You better get all your ducks in a row if you want to work this out, and you have better be determined to see it through,” he says with firm eyes.

“I’m willing go only vanilla if she so desires. I’m willing, hell, I’m scared to go near my Playroom...I’ll give all that shit up if she wants to! No punishment...nothing. I’ll avoid anything that will distance her from me like it's poison!”

Okay... Now, this is the question. Will you resent her for distancing you from the things you’re accustomed, you like, and desire? I want you to think this one hard Christian!” he says looking at me intently. “Because if you’re solely doing this to get her back, you will destroy not only what you could have with her, but perhaps Anastasia as well... irrevocably. In order for this relationship to work, you truly must be a changed man. This is your chance of achieving a personal metamorphosis, from an adolescent to an adult, emotionally. ”

I look up at John. “I died a thousand times since she left me! I feel like there is a gaping hole in my chest." I show him with my hands fisted digging into my chest, my eyes wide. I look at him pleading. "If you have a magic potion to heal it, to get her out of my system, and not because I don’t want to her love, or I don’t want to love her back, but because, I’m so fucked up, I don’t want to taint her, give it to me!
“What you say I’m accustomed, like and desire... I realized... when she looked at me loathing...they were nothing! They meant nothing anymore. Disappeared. Poof!" I make a gesture of disappearing with my hands. "I need her more than my next breath!

So, you’re concerned that all of a sudden, I’d drop Anastasia and go for that shit in my past? Maybe I deserve that scrutiny. Will that need be gone? Maybe not. But I sure as hell will learn to take the temptation out of my way.” I look at my hands, then fix my gaze on the table lamp. It helps to look at the light if you force yourself not to cry. I’ve mastered that. But, my emotional cup is overflowing, my levees are broken. I violently rub my eyes, so they don’t betray me here. Take a deep breath, Grey! I tell myself. “So, you’re asking me, ‘what entails anything?’ to keep her with me. Here’s my answer: It’s exactly just that; anything and everything. Because, I’m in love with her John!(I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston) Madly, soul deep, irrevocably! I love her more than my own life! She is my life.. She’s my fucking soul. I’ve come alive with her. I forget what a piece a shit I am when she’s around me. I’ll do anything to protect her, take care of her, love her, and I’ll compromise any way and shape she wants me to. But she won’t believe me.”

John sighs. “First love,” and smiles. “Well, I can help you with that. I’m so glad you finally realized what I have known all along.”

“But, she hates me.. she loves me too. She hates the way I am, and she wouldn’t even let me touch her. She wouldn’t let me give her a goodbye kiss!” I say with grief.
“How did she look she left?”

“Broken, hurt. I inquired about her from Taylor. He took her home. He said she sobbed all the way home, and wouldn’t let him help her. He said she just stumbled away,” I say my gaze fixed in distance. I feel myself leaving my body again.

“Christian! Focus!” John snaps.
“John! I’m dying every day!”

“Here’s your chance to rectify that situation. Can you give her a few days? This way, she’ll get a chance to sort her feelings out, and you won’t scare her away. Then talk to her. Really talk. Get all your ducks in a row, find out what exactly went wrong aside from spanking of course.”

I know what went wrong. It’s the whole contract thing. That’s what went wrong. A contractual relationship doesn’t work when two people are in love. I put her in a relationship with boundaries... Well, I’ve come full circle. Fuck the paperwork! I’m resolute and determined. I rise in my seat.
“Thank you John,” I say.

“Sure,” he says. “Any news about Leila?”

“Not yet. But, I’ll call you as soon as we locate her.”
I leave John’s office resolute, but still with a heavy heart. How do get through the few days I should give Anastasia. I’m a fucking wreck! But that's what the doctor prescribed. I run back home.

Taylor is waiting by the door, nervous. I eye him. He looks at me wary, concerned. But he says nothing.

“Yes, sir,” he responds.

“Uhm. I need your help with something. Meet me in my study in thirty minutes,” I say. This’ll give me enough time to shower and get dressed.
“Of course, sir.”

In less than thirty minutes, I shower, dress up in my white linen shirt and black jeans. I take a bottle of water and walk to my study. Taylor appears immediately and follows me closing the door behind him, turns to look at me expectantly.

I take a deep breath, and open my mouth. Then close it again. I open it once more.

“Taylor, which florist is the best one in Seattle?” Taylor’s eyes widen, this is the most shocked I’ve seen him.

“Florist, sir?”
“Yes, florist. I want to send roses to Miss Steele for tomorrow to congratulate her on her first day at work.”

“I can do that for you sir,” he responds.
“I know you can, Taylor,” I say exasperated. “But, I want to know how to do it, so I can do it for her,” I say. He tries to hide a smile, but is unsuccessful, finally reigning in her facial expressions, he dons his impassive look.

We surf the web for thirty minutes and we narrow down to three different florists. I call my assistant Andrea along the way, and she too suggests that she can send it flowers for me to its destination. I have to reprimand her too. “Just tell me who the best florist is, Andrea!” scolding her and then I read the names of the three shops Taylor and I picked. She tells me the name of the best one, and I hang up.

“Okay. We know who the best florist is. Now the meanings of roses.”

“Meanings sir?” asks Taylor puzzled.

“Man! You’ve been married before! Haven’t you ever sent roses to your wife with some special meaning attached?”
“Oh!” Taylor says finally the penny dropping. “I’m not sure, but Mrs. Jones might be more knowledgeable on that since women are more focused on meanings of things. I can get her if you like,” he says.

“Ok, get Mrs. Jones.”

A few minutes later, Taylor and Mrs. Jones walks back in. He must have explained to her, and she has a small sparkle in her eyes, but her demeanor is ever professional.

“What sort of meaning are you intending to convey sir?” she asks.

I take a deep breath. “New beginnings, innocence, reverence, honor, purity. Is there a flower that says all of those, or do I have to get a whole bunch of them to mean it that way?” I ask.

Mrs. Jones actually smiles this time.
“There is only one kind of flower that says all of that,” she says, and my eyes brighten for the first time since yesterday.

“Which one?” I ask a little more enthusiastically.

“White roses. Long stem white roses would be best. They also mean ‘young love’ sir,” she says, and though I frown, I can’t keep a smile off my face.

“Thank you Mrs. Jones,” I say dismissing her.

“Anytime, sir,” she says and walks out.

I turn to Taylor. “Okay, how do we do this?”
“Do what sir?”

“I want to place the order for her!” I say frustrated.

“Oh yes, we call the florist, tell them we have a future delivery for tomorrow, unless you want it delivered to her work of course,” he says, and I cut him off.
“No, I want it delivered to her house,” I say.

“Then, we have to make sure that they deliver it to her house at a particular time. They’ll walk you through it sir, and then we pay them through credit card.”
“Easy enough, I can do that,” I say. “Thank you, Taylor,” I say dismissing him. He nods, and I don’t miss the grin as he turns away to walk out.

I call the florist, and place an order for two dozens of long stem roses to be delivered tomorrow after 5:30 p.m. I tell them to check every half hour if she’s not home until the delivery is accomplished. Then I have to convince the woman on the other line that I’m actually Christian Grey because she doubts the name on my credit card. She says “they have assistants to do that for them!” When we finally square that problem away, that I am in fact, the Christian Grey! I make sales clerk type a note in for her. Not too personal, but not too detached either. Just to let her know that she’s in my mind.

Congratulations on your first day at work.
I hope it went well.

And thank you for the glider. That was very thoughtful.
It has pride of place on my desk.


I hope she responds. I hope she understands. I hope she still loves me. I hope she forgives. I hope... Wasn’t it in a movie someplace it was said that ‘Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies.’ So, I just hope.
Next, I call Ros.

“Ros, you have priorities tomorrow,” I start as soon as she answers the phone.

“Yes, sir. What are they?”
“We’re taking over SIP!”

“Uhm.. what? What is SIP?”
“It’s a publishing company.”

“Is it for sale?”

“No. It’s not.”
“Is it struggling financially? Would it be a good buy?”

“Not a clue.”
“Ok, Mr. Grey... Christian, it sounds like we started in the middle of a conversation that you must have started sometime, and I caught up only in the middle. Why are we buying this company exactly?”

“Ros! There is a reason why my company, is NOT a public company. Because, I like to have my own way. I want this company because it’s getting stagnant. It could be beneficial later for us. It needs to branch out, and so do we. You will get it for me, even if we have to do a hostile takeover! Then I want all the employee files in upper management, new hires, and everything in-between. It will better be done on Monday. I want everything ready. Offer them a friendly takeover on Monday. If not, I want all of the stocks to be purchased Tuesday. I want this to be over with this week! Do I make myself clear?” I say through gritted teeth. Boss Christian is back with a vengeance.
“Perfectly sir. I’ll have the papers drawn up today.”

“Whatever it takes, do it!” I bark, and hang up.
I will do anything to protect what is mine. Anastasia is mine! Baby, you haven’t seen me fight for you yet! It’ll be spectacular! Because I don’t give up... not when I know you love me, and I love you.

My post-breakup but pre-fight day 2 rolls in with full swing. Ros calls me late afternoon.

“Mr. Grey, we’ve presented the offer to the SIP. Although we’ve offered them more than what their stocks are worth, the company was reluctant to sell. I’m moving into Phase Two.”
“If they don’t agree, let them know that I will buy. every. single. stock available and unavailable. Every. Single. One. Do you get me Ros? I want it all! Not one public stock!” I say enunciating.

“Yes, sir!” she says and hangs up. A small company like SIP will not stand in my way to protect Anastasia. Yesterday I asked the florist to have Anastasia sign for her flowers, and only her, then have the confirmation sent to me the same day. I'm waiting for its arrival like a shipment of gold!
Taylor is ready to take me home after work.

“No Taylor, take me to the Apple store.”

“What kind of apples sir?” he asks confused.
“Not ‘an’ apple, Taylor. The Apple store, as in Macs, iPod, iPad.” I see Taylor going crimson for misunderstanding.

“Of course, sir,” he says.
I want my apology to Anastasia to be sincere, and personal to the highest extent. After shopping for two hours, I purchase two iPads, the newest available; one for Anastasia, and one for me. I’m not always good with words. Sometimes I say things, and put my enormous foot in my mouth which of course would require me to wash it down with a gallon of water! But music had always been a way to express my sorrow, perhaps it can also express my love, and I intend to do that for her with this personal apology.

When we get home, Mrs. Jones informs me that a courier delivered an envelope. I open it as if it’s the most precious cargo. It contains Anastasia’s signature for the flower delivery. I hold it to my chest, clutching it like a lifeline as I walk to my study while the fucking tears force their way to my eyes threatening to fall, and I grit my teeth, put my impassive face on, and make myself scarce from the view of my employees.
I’ve been sleeping with Anastasia’ laptop, Blackberry and now her iPad in my company as I will deliver them back to her soon as I give her a couple more days, if I don’t die in the process that is. Life is fucking hell, and I miss her terribly!

My days have been torturous since Anastasia left. I can’t think anything besides her. I can’t focus. Every place I turn, I see her face. I’m in perpetual night, a horrible place to be, as if she left with my inner light. I can see nothing! I have no pleasure in life, and the gaping hole in me is only growing! I have no sleep, and if I do sleep I wake up after I’m tortured with my nightmares.

I have taken my glider to my work, and it is secured in a nice casing. I took a picture of it yesterday so I can make it a part of my apology to Anastasia. I put that image as the opening background on the iPad, and compiled a selection of songs that reminded me of us. What a simple word that is, “us”, yet with so much force in it. I put the picture that appeared in Seattle Times during her graduation as the main background after she slides the lock open. The playlist I’ve complied should remind her everything we’ve done together.

There’s Thomas Tallis, where I flogged and fucked her with her choice of brown plaited riding crop.

The Witchcraft. We danced around the great room to that song, and I have already fallen for her, just was too stupid to realize.
Bach’s Marcello piece. She’s heard me play that several times.

Jeff Buckley: Lover, You Should’ve Come Over: The lyrics, just speak for me. (←Lover, You Should've Come Over) I hope she listens. I hope she forgives me.
Looking out the door I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water
And maybe I’m too young to keep good love from going wrong
But tonight you're on my mind so you never know

Broken down and hungry for your love but no way to feed it
Where are you tonight, child you know how much i need it
Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run

Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one

So I'll wait for you..... and I'll burn
Will i ever see your sweet return
Oh will I ever learn

Oh lover, you should've come over
'cause it's not too late

Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him
My body turns and yearns for a sleep that won't ever come

It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when i slept so soft against her
It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my song forever

Well maybe I'm just too young
To keep good love from going wrong

Oh.... lover, you should've come over
'cause it's not too late

Well I feel too young to hold on
And I'm much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage I've done

Sweet lover, you should've come over
Oh, love well I'm waiting for you

Lover, you should've come over
Cause it's not too late

I then select, Snow Patrol’s “Just Say Yes,” because I want her to really, truly forgive me.
But, knowing how fucked up I am, it’s also my plea to her to give me a little room to make mistakes which is why I added, Nelly Furtado’s - Try.

Enigma’s Principles of Lust also provided both of us so much pleasure. The Scientist by Coldplay, and finally to make her smile, “Possession,” by Sarah McLachlan. Butthe crown jewel of all, and she’ll notice it if she knows me well is Every Breath You Take, by the Police.
Knowing how much she loves the British Classics, I purchase her the British Library app so she can read them anytime she wants. There’s of course “Good Food” app, and the standard apps like the news, and the weather.

My heart constricts with fear that it may not be enough for saying “I’m sorry” in all the ways I can, but I just hope. If she hears me out, maybe she can find it in her heart to forgive me.


Before I leave for work in the morning, Ros calls.
“Sir, I don’t think SIP is resistant to a friendly takeover. We have everything ready for the hostile takeover. What are your orders, sir?”

“Do it!” I say firmly. “I want it done swiftly.”

“As you wish sir. I’ll inform you of the progress later today, and if all goes as planned, we can be signing tomorrow.”
“Fine, let me know when you are done,” I say before hanging up.

On the way to GEH, I ask Taylor if he’s been keeping an eye on Anastasia.

“Yes, sir,” he replies.
“She went to work yesterday, and then came home after leaving on a bus,” he says, and my heart constricts anew. It’s all my fault. But I press on. “What else?”

“She hasn’t come out of her place after she went in.”
“What about the bank activity?” I ask.

“She hasn’t deposited her money sir. She still only has about a thousand Dollars,” I groan inwardly.
“Keep checking on her then,” I order.

“Yes, sir.”

Ros calls an hour after I'm at work.
“Sir, everything is done. They’re not happy, but that’s the nature of a hostile takeover. We ought to be able to sign papers today at about 2:00 p.m. Of course, we’d be imposed with a gag order for at least four weeks until everything finalizes and registers.”

Tick tock. Tick tock. The fucking clock is moving, and my heart is combusting as I count the days I’ve been separated from Anastasia. Four fucking days! I’m fidgety, angry, and nervous, and fucking love struck!
“What about the employee files I asked for? Have you sent them? And the server information?” I ask.

“Your IT guy should receive the server information within the hour, and the company doesn’t have a whole a lot of employees, so the employee files shouldn’t be too hard to get to you. Give me an hour!”
“You have 60 minutes Ros! Tick tock!”

“Yes, sir,” she says hurried, and I press the off button on my Blackberry.

When the employee files are delivered to my inbox, my hands shake. I go through the names, and come to the letter S in the list.
“Anastasia Rose Steele”

I stare at her name, and the small picture used for her employee identification. Her all too wide eyes, and an unsmiling face. Almost sad, and forlorn. “I miss you baby,” I say to the picture. I really miss you! (Skipping Stone by Amos Lee)
When I check who her boss is, I see the name, “Jack Hyde.” I immediately dislike the man.

“Let’s see who the hell you are Mr. Jack Hyde!” I mutter under my breath.
I find his file. An Ivy League graduate frat boy. 32 years old maybe. Sharp blue eyes. I dial Welch’s number.

“Welch, Grey. I need you to do a thorough background check.”

“Jack Hyde. Commissioning Editor at the SIP Publishing company.”
“How fast do you need it sir?”

“I needed it last Monday!” I say, indicating he should be lighting a fire under his ass.
“I’ll hop to it then sir. I’ll get back to you within the day whatever I can gather, and I’ll keep searching for more, and give you an extensive one as well. Would that work for you sir?”

“Fine. Just don’t keep me waiting!” I say before I hang up.
By the time I get back to Escala, it’s already 6:00 p.m. But I have already signed the takeover papers, and Anastasia Rose Steele is officially working for me, and much to my relief, now under my protection. I go to my room to change, but I hear Anastasia’s Blackberry ringing at my bedside table. I go and look at who the caller is, and he receives a snort from me.

“Hello Mr. Rodriguez,” I answer the phone.

“Oh, Mr. Grey?” he says surprised after a short pause.
“Anastasia isn’t available. How can I help you?”

“Oh,” he says pausing. “I was wondering if Ana was coming to my gallery opening Thursday.”

“I don’t know,” I say without giving anything away. “I’ll let her get back to you on that. She’ll let you know.”
“Thanks man!” he says awkwardly.

“No problem.” I say hanging up.

I know that she hasn’t deposited her check, so she doesn’t have a car. I start tapping my fingers again like the four riders of the apocalypse in a nervous gesture.
“Anastasia Steele, you are mine baby!” (Umbrella by Rihanna) I hope someone else hasn’t moved in on her. I walk back out of my bedroom forgetting what I was there for, and call for Taylor.

“Yes, sir?” he replies.
“What has Miss Steele done today?”

“She went to work on a bus, and got off at around 5:30 p.m. and went back home on the bus again, and hasn’t left her apartment building since.”
"Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir, I have someone on a stakeout, keeping an eye 24/7.”

“Okay, that’s all,” I reply.


Frustration is paramount! I’m ready to bulldoze and punch anyone on my way, and short with everyone. The lion inside me has grown in bounds within the past few days tormenting me, and ripping my heart apart, day in and day out.
I receive my preliminary report on Anastasia’s boss. What I see is disturbing. He’s accomplished, was successful in school with a scholarship, and has a sealed record. He has been changing assistants every few months. Welch put a note saying that he’s going to look into that, because that usually means he’s either a very unhappy boss, picky, and disturbing, or he’s harassing them. Either way, it can give Anastasia problems.

Ana still hasn’t acknowledged the roses I sent her. Does she know the meaning of white roses? Maybe she doesn’t, but Mrs. Jones thinks that women know those things. Ana, is not an ordinary woman. I hope she understand what I’m trying to say.

I put myself a time limit when I can send her first e-mail about her friend’s opening. Since she already asked me to come with her, and I agreed, this would be a safe topic to write her about. My hands are shaking as I type and I have to delete what I wrote because of repeated misspelling errors.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:04
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

Forgive this intrusion at work. I hope that it’s going well. Did you get my flowers?
I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend’s show, and I’m sure you’ve not had time to purchase a car, and it’s a long drive. I would be more than happy to take you – should you so wish.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.


I hit send, while sending personal supplications “Please say ‘yes’ baby! Please say‘yes!’"
I look at my monitor blankly. No answer yet. Will she tell me to go to hell? Not to bother her again? That she hates me? I can’t handle the suspense! Please don’t hate me, baby! Please accept it! Please come back to me!

My intercom buzzes.
“What?” I snap, and I can feel Andrea flinch on the intercom.

“Mr. Welch is here sir,” she says.
“Send him in,” I respond flat.

He walks in, and gives me the spiel on Hyde. He’s had so many assistants. And none stuck, or remained in the company, or promoted for another position. Welch went to interview couple of them, and they had nothing but praises for their former boss.
“So, he’s a good guy? Just picky?”

“Well, sir. My gut says, no. Because what both the girls said were almost identical, scripted, no thought process. That makes me think that they were coaxed into that speech should anyone ever ask about him.”

“Harassment," I say automatically.

“Plausible. I have to search a lot more than just two ex-assistants though.”
By the time Welch leaves, I still haven’t gotten an answer from Anastasia. I watch the monitor, as if Anastasia is going to pop out of it.

Finally an answer dings and I sigh with relief.

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:24
To: Christian Grey

Hi Christian
Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely.
Yes, I would appreciate a ride.
Thank you.

Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

Her response, and the prospect of seeing her makes me so happy, I could do a cartwheel here in my office!

I type another response to find out when I can pick her up.

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:26
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Anastasia

What time shall I pick you up?

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Time starts ticking again when she’s not answering. Tick tock. Tick tock. “Ana, please talk to me!” I say to my monitor.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:31
To: Christian Grey

Jose’s show starts at 7:30. What time would you suggest?
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:33
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia
Portland is some ways away. I shall collect you at 5:45.

I look forward to seeing you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Her answering reply is short. But, it’s at least a beginning.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:37
To: Christian Grey

See you then.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP


My spirit sees a glimpse of hope for the first time in a week. I’m going to see my Ana tomorrow! This is my chance to redeem myself.

The day can’t go fast enough. Nothing I do is speeding the day up. No activity, no business, no problem is big enough for me to forget her or to reach the end of the day to finally see her! My mind is locked on Anastasia. I call Taylor to brief him at work, although we’ve been through this yesterday.

“Is the pilot scheduled?”
“Yes sir. He’ll get Charlie Tango ready. Do the pre-flight checks, and have her running by the time we arrive. I will drop you and Miss Steele off at the helipad after collecting her from work, and drive the pilot to Portland and take him to the helipad there, so he can bring Charlie Tango back. Then, I will collect you around 8:30 or 9:00 whenever wish sir in Portland, then, drive you and Miss Steele back home.”

“Fine. Let’s do this,” I say under my breath. I don’t know whether I heard or imagined Taylor saying, “go get her sir!” Surely, not! I’m too wound up!
I leave work by 5:00 p.m. and we arrive at SIP around 5:20 p.m. The last 25 minutes of me waiting to see my girl is torturous. It’s like a marathon runner who ran the 25 miles, and on the last mile he feels the weariness in his bones, but keeps pushing.

My gaze is fixed at the door of SIP. Taylor exists the car as soon as Anastasia emerges from the door. Some fucker is opening the door for her! Another fucking suitor! Taylor opens the rear door of the car, and I lay my eyes on my love for the first time in nearly a week, and the sight of her makes me I’m furious!
“When did you last eat?” I snap at her as she slides in the car beside me.

"Hello, Christian. Yes, it’s nice to see you, too,” she says making me angrier.
“I don’t want your smart mouth now. Answer me,” I say with blazing eyes.

“Um...I had a yogurt at lunchtime. Oh-and a banana,” she responds evasively.
Taylor slips back into the driver’s seat, and starts the car, pulling into the traffic. That fucker who opened the door is standing out by the entry door of SIP and waving. Anastasia’s waves him back.

“Who’s that?” I snap my patience running out.
“My boss,” she says, peeking at me from under her lashes. I’m so angry, my lips are a tout hard line. The bastard, Jack Hyde! I'll deal with that later...

“Well? Your last meal?”

“Christian, that really is none of your concern,” she murmurs. Oh, how little do you know baby!
“Whatever you do concerns me. Tell me,” I plead. She groans in frustration, and rolls her eyes heavenward; my eyes narrow on her. She finally first stifles a smile, and a giggle burst out of her beautiful lips. My face softens at her reaction, as I feel a smile creep on my lips.

“Well?” I ask, in a softer voice.
“Pasta alla vongole, last Friday,” she whispers, and I’m shattered once again.

I close my eyes both fury, and regret sweep my face. I should have contacted her much sooner. She’s upset and starving herself. She’s lost too much weight, and her eyes are sunken!
“You look like you’ve lost at least five pounds, possibly more since then. Please eat, Anastasia,” I scold.

She stares down at the knotted fingers on her lap feeling reprimanded. I shift and turn towards her, to get a better look at her, to assess her well-being.
“How are you?” I ask in a soft, but worried voice.

Her face falls, her shoulders sag as if she’s buried under the load of the universe, crushed. Swallows hard. “If I told you I was fine, I’d be lying,” she says.
I inhale sharply. She has been feeling the same way I have! “Me, too!” I murmur, and reach over and clasp her hand. “I miss you,” I say softly.

She looks at our connected hands the same sweet jolt going through between us.
“Christian, I –“she say, I cut her.

Ana, please. We need to talk.”

Her face falls again. “Christian, I... please... I’ve cried so much,” she whispers.
“Oh, baby, no,” I tug her hand, unbuckle her, and hold her in my embrace where I have wished her to be since the second she left me. I wrap my arms around her tight, and bury my nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. This is heaven... She’s my heaven, and I had to harrow hell to get here.

“I’ve missed you so much, Anastasia” I breathe, and she finally melts into my embrace resting her head against me. ‘I love you! I love you! I love you!’ my heart whispers, my soul intact, but my mouth silent. (My Love by Sia)

Welcome back to Book II! Thank you for patiently waiting! I have worked through weekend to get this done as well as Monday. I could have cut a little shorter, but I thought you at least deserved a glimpse of them reuniting. Next posting will be Thursday or Saturday. Let's play it by the ear. Training in NY..