Chapter XXVII ← Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

SOAR (or SORE) WITH ME

CHAPTER XXVII

“Christian! I want the strawberry!” she says as she’s reaching to an unseen object. It’s her thrashing around that wakes me up.

“I don’t want the cage!” she murmurs as her brows crease in her sleep. Seeping in city lights play an amazing magic on her face. I’m intrigued.

“Don’t take it away Christian! I want that... Nooo!” she moans. I rub her hair to soothe her. I’m curious to know what she’s dreaming about.

“Shhh!” I murmur softly. The crease in her brow softens, eases her face.

“What? Don’t leave! I can’t!” she shudders in her sleep.

“I love you! Don’t leave me! I’m scared...” (← I Melt with You by Nouvelle Vague)

“Baby... I’m here. Shhh now...” I coax her. Rub her hair, trying to relax her. Her arm looks for me in the dark. I take it, wrap it around my neck. She sigh. It’s the sweetest sound.

“I’d die!” her face crunches. “I’d die... Christian,” she murmurs barely audible.

What? Why?

“Don’t leave me...” she whispers in her sleep. "I just want more..." she mutters sadly.

It’s her fear that I’d leave her. How little she knows, that it’s my fear, too. If she just knew, I wouldn’t, I physically couldn’t leave her, that she has a direct line to my soul.

“I’ll never...” she drifts off. “no, I won’t leave you,” she murmurs. I close my eyes and revel in the knowledge, the reassurance of her statement in her sleep. She said that before, but how I long to hear it when she’s awake.

“I want that!” she extends the hand wrapped around my neck.

“Shhh now... Relax baby,” I whisper in her ear. I rub her hair, slowly, purposefully. She eases and relaxes. Sighs. Her arms slowly go limp, motionless. I ease out of the bed. I can watch her forever like this. I go and get dressed in black for my surprise for her today. I let her sleep as much as possible, but for what I have in mind for her, I need to wake my baby up.

“Anastasia,” I try to coax her out of sleep.

“No,” she moans.

“Come on now baby,” I say in a normal tone.

“No. Let me touch you,” she groans.

“Wake up,” I coax more.

“No,” she mumbles as she flickers her eyes for a brief second. I nuzzle her ear as I whisper.

“Wake up baby,” with a smile, and pleasure knowing she’s here with me in my arms.

“Oh...no,” she groans, her face grimaces.

“Time to get up baby. I’m going to turn the table lamp on,” I say quietly.

“No,” she groans again.

“I want to chase the dawn with you,”  I say kissing her face, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her mouth and she finally opens her yes. She squints a little as the soft light from the side table light touches her eyes.

“Good morning beautiful” I murmur, and she groans making me smile.

“You’re not a morning person,” I murmur. She squints and looks up at me leaning over her, smiling. I’m amused.

“I thought you wanted sex,” she grumbles. What? Is that why she’s grumbling? Has sex been that bad with me that she feels she has to grumble?

“Anastasia, I always want sex with you. It’s heartwarming to know that you feel the same,” I say dryly, sarcastically.

She gazes at me, but I am too amused to be deterred by her reaction.

“Of course I do, just not when it’s so late,” she mumbles.

“It’s not late, it’s early. Come on! Up you go. We’re going out. I’ll take a rain check on the sex.”

“I was having such a nice dream,” she whines longing for something she’s lost.

“Dream about what?” I ask my interest piqued.

“You,” she blushes. Oh, that reaction grabs my interest.

“What was I doing this time?” I ask.

“Trying to feed me strawberries,” she says. I smile. I think I remember her saying that.

“Dr. Flynn could have a field day with that. Up, and get dressed. Don’t bother to shower, we can do that later,” I say firmly.

She sits up, and the sheets just fall to her waist revealing her naked body. My eyes darken with desire, and if I do what I want to do right now, we will miss our chance to catch the sunrise. So, I’ll have to rein in my desire.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“5:30 in the morning,” I reply.

“Ohh,” she groans, “feels like 3:00 a.m.”

“We don’t have much time. I tried to let you sleep as long as possible. Come.”

“Can I just have a shower?” she asks. I sigh.

“If you have a shower, I’ll want one with you, and you and I know what will happen then... Our day will just go. Come.” We can do that later.

I’m completely excited with what I planned for us, what I want to share with her. This is going to be our ‘more.’ She smiles at me in return.

“What are we doing?” she inquires.

“It’s a surprise. I told you,” I say grinning at her. (← Come Fly with Me by Frank Sinatra)

“Okay,” she responds and clambers off the bed, looking for her clothes. She locates them on the chair next to the bed. I have also put a pair of jersey boxer briefs for her. She sees the Ralph Lauren label, and grins. She slips them on, and I grin in response. My second pair she has in her possession now. Somehow knowing something that was so intimately on me is now covering her makes me feel even more proprietor towards her.

Since I made sure she’s up, and getting dressed, I say, “I’ll give you some room now that you’re up,” and leave the bedroom to go to the living room. Less than ten minutes later she emerges as I’m having my breakfast.

“Eat,” I tell her. She doesn’t eat enough. She gapes at me.

“Anastasia,” I say sternly, she looks like she’s going to negotiate.

“I’ll have some tea. Can I take a croissant for later?” I look at her suspiciously and she gives me a sweet smile in response.

“Don’t rain on my parade Anastasia,” I warn her.

“I’ll eat later when my stomach’s woken up. About 7:30 a.m.... okay?”

She looks at me sweetly, and expectantly.. A mischievous gleam comes to her eyes as my responding glare is on her.

“I want to roll my eyes at you,” she says.

“By all means, do, and you will make my day,” I say sternly. She gazes up at the ceiling as if she’s considering my threat.

“Well,” she says contemplating seriously, “a spanking would wake me up, I suppose,” she says pursing her lips, weighing her options. My mouth hits the floor with her revelation!

“On the other hand, I don’t want you to be all hot and bothered; the climate here is warm enough,” she says shrugging nonchalantly. I finally have enough sense to close my mouth, and try to look displeased, but clearly in Anastasia’s presence, I fail hopelessly. She is playful, and her remarks makes humor come to surface.

“You are, as ever, challenging Miss Steele. Drink your tea,” I order her.

She looks at the tea, and notices the Twinings label, and a huge grin covers her beautiful face. She sits across from me, and watch me for a while as she sips her tea.

When I’m done with breakfast and she, with her tea, we leave the room. I toss her a sweatshirt.

“You’ll need this,” I say, and she looks at me puzzled.

“Trust me,” I tell her grinning, and lean over and kiss her quickly on the lips, then grab her hand and we head out.

It’s relatively cool outside, and pre-dawn lights are peaking from the eastern horizon. When we come in front of the hotel, the valet hands me a set of keys to a flashy sports car with a soft top. Anastasia turns to me and raises a questioning eye brow to which I respond with a smirk.

“You know Anastasia, sometimes it’s great being me,” I say conspiratorially still grinning. How could I not? I’m here with the woman I desire, and have feelings for, and we’re doing ‘more’ together. She’s my hope; the one who lets me know that there’s more to life, helps me experience life to the fullest beyond what I had expected. I’m in a very good mood. I open the car door, and with an exaggerated bow, I let her climb in. Then, I go to the driver’s side, and sit.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“You’ll see,” I tell her giving nothing away. I put the car in drive, and we head out on Savannah Parkway. I program the GPS, and switch on the iPod synced with the car’s stereo, and classical orchestral piece fills the car. 

“What is this?” she asks in a sweet voice curiously.

It’s one of my favorite operas.

“It’s from La Traviata. An opera by Verdi,” I respond. (←La Traviata by Pavarotti)

“La Traviata? I’ve heard of that. I can’t think of where. What does it mean?” she asks. I glance at her quickly and smirk.

“Well, literally, the woman led astray. It’s based on Alexander Dumas’s book, La Dame aux Camelias,” I say explaining.

“Ah. I’ve read it,” she says.

“I thought you might.”

“The doomed courtesan,” she says squirming in her leather seat. “Hmm, it’s a depressing story,” she mutters.

“Too depressing? Do you want to choose some music? This is on my iPod,” I say with a secret knowing smile.

I tap the screen on the console between the two of us, and bring up the play list.

“You choose,” I tell her trying, but failing to hide a knowing smile.

Her fingers tap, and go through the playlist. She scrolls down, and after finding what she wants, she presses play. Britney comes on with her club-mix, techno beat. I turn the volume down. It’s not a song I put on my iPod. It was Leila who put that song into the list. Britney croons in a sultry voice.

“Toxic, eh?” I ask grinning. (←Toxic by Britney Spears)

“I don’t know what you mean,” she feigns innocence.

I turn the music down a little more. This isn’t a song I put on to my iPod.

“I didn’t put that song on my iPod,” I tell Anastasia casually but truthfully, then put my foot down on the accelerator and I hide a small smile as she’s thrown back into her seat as we travel along the freeway. I watch her on my peripheral vision. She clenches her hands on her lap, I see her jaw moving, clenching; she's gritting her teeth, and her mood falls down as she looks out. Oh, no! She’s wondering who put the song on my iPod. Jealousy and curiosity is oozing out of her. As Britney croons ‘who... who?’ she looks even more forlorn.

“It was Leila,” I answer her unspoken question. She turns to me and asks, “Leila?”

“An ex, who put the song on my iPod,” I respond. She sits back in deep thought, and then asks me “One of the fifteen?”

“Yes,” I respond.

“What happened to her?”

“We finished,” I reply.

“Why?”

I sigh. I want to be open with Anastasia; I want her to know that she’s special over any other woman I’ve had.

“She wanted more,” I say in a low, introspective voice. The sentence hangs between us. Anastasia is the only one I ever entertained the idea of “more”.

“And you didn’t?” she asks. I shake my head.

“I never wanted more, until I met you,” I simply state. I want her to know that I want more too with her. I find myself desiring more, needing more, wanting more...but only with her. She takes what I say in.

“What happened to the other fourteen?” she asks.

“You want the list? Divorced, beheaded, died?” I say in almost a mocking tone.

“You’re not Henry VIII,” she says pouting.

“Okay. In no particular order, I’ve only had long term relationships with four women, apart from Elena,” I state.

“Elena?” she asks.

“Mrs. Robinson to you,” I half smile. I remember Elena’s reaction to her nickname. Her face darkens with fear, jealousy, anger...I don’t know what else.

“What happened to the four?” she asks shaking her head.

“So inquisitive, so eager for information, Miss Steele,” I scold her playfully, but I’m in full disclosure mode right now.

“Oh, Mr. When is your period due?” she scolds me back.

“Anastasia, a man needs to know these things,” I say. I don’t want to knock her up.

“Does he?” she retorts.

“I do,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to get pregnant,” I say exasperated.

“Neither do I! Well, not for a few years yet,” she says taking me aback. She wants children? It’s too early to visit this scary topic.

“So the other four, what happened?” she presses, and in light of the previous topic, this is one I can answer.

“One met someone else. The other three wanted – more. I wasn’t in the market for more then,” I state.

“And the others?” she presses further. God! She should work for me! She’s nothing if not persuasive.

“Just didn’t work out,” I say. Nothing worked out to my heart’s desire until I met Anastasia. She glances out the car again. What is she thinking?

“Where are we headed?" She asks, perplexed, gazing out at the I-95.

“An airfield,” I respond.

“We’re not going back to Seattle are we?” she gasps alarmed. I laugh at her reaction. Of course not. I want to chase the dawn with her.

“No Anastasia, we’re going to indulge in my second favorite pastime,” I reply.

“Second?” she asks frowning?

“Yep. I told you my favorite this morning,” I say and she glances at me, examining my expression.

“Indulging in you Miss Steele. That’s got to be top of my list. Any way I can get you,” I say with all the fervor I have for her.

“Well, that’s quite high up on my list of diverting, kinky priorities, too,” she mutters, blushing.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” I mutter back at her dryly.

“So, airfield?” she asks. I grin at her. We’re almost here anyway, so, it’d be alright to let her in the secret.

“Soaring,” I say. She looks questioning.

“We’re going to chase the dawn Anastasia,” I explain. I’m so elated because I’m going to share my second most favorite hobby with her, and that it’s our ‘more’. I can’t help but turn and grin at her. My GPS directs me to turn right, and we turn into an industrial complex. I pull outside of a large white building with a sign reading Brunswick Soaring Association.

When I turn off the engine, I turn and ask her, “You’re up for this?” with a hopeful voice.

“You’re flying?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“Yes please!” she says with excitement and without hesitation. I grin at her response and lean forward and kiss my woman.

“Another first Miss Steele,” I say as I climb out of the car. She’s the first woman I’m taking to share my hobby. I walk around the car, and open her door. She walks out and takes my proffered hand. I head her round the building to find a stretch of tarmac where several planes are parked. Taylor is standing beside a man with a shaved head and wild eyes. Anastasia beams at Taylor and he smiles back at her kindly. Good, I don’t want others, not to mention my employees ogling my woman!

“Mr. Grey, this is your tow-pilot, Mr. Mark Benson,” he introduces the pilot. We shake hands, and talk about the wind speed, its direction, and other weather related conditions.

“Hello Taylor,” I hear Anastasia murmuring shyly.

“Miss Steele,” he responds her nodding. “Ana,” I hear him correcting himself. Then he leans in and whispers something I can’t hear. I narrow my eyes, but say nothing.

“Anastasia,” I summon my woman. “Come,” I say as I hold my hand out.

“See you later Taylor,” she says smiling, and he gives her a quick salute, and heads back to the parking lot.

“Mr. Benson, this is my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele,” I introduce my woman to the pilot.

“Pleased to meet you,” she murmurs and they shake hands. Benson is dazzled by Anastasia... God, who isn’t? And he smiles.

“Likewise,” he says to her.

Mark Benson leads the way on the tarmac toward the runway.

“What are you towing us with today Mark?”

“A Blanik sir,” he responds.

“L13 or L23,” I ask.

“You know your planes,” he says with a grin.

“L23 sir,” he responds.

“Any particular reason you prefer it over L13?”

“You know that L13s have an excellent aerobatic characteristics sir. I mean they’re designed for dual elementary and aerobatic glider training. And of course, they’re great for soaring,” he says.

“I’ve used L23s before,” I state as a matter of factly, feeling in my element. “I, too prefer them. For one thing, it’s an all metal, two seal self-supporting, high-winged glider. I’ve used it for my flight training, stunt and instrument flying. What are you towing us with,” I ask, and Mark beams from ear to ear.

“I’ll be towing you in a Piper Pawnee,” he says. I cheerfully nod. I love airplanes, and I love flying. The fact that I’m getting to do that with my woman is like having a double orgasm and no sex is involved.

The plane is long, sleek and white with orange stripes. The long white cable is attached to the single propeller Piper.

“First we need to strap on your parachute,” Mark says to Anastasia.

“I’ll do that,” I interrupt him. The day someone else straps her into a harness is the day hell freezes over. Benson smiles amenably at me.

“I’ll fetch some ballast,” Benson says, and heads towards the plane.

“You like strapping me into things,” she observes dryly.

“Miss Steele, you have no idea. Here, step into the straps,” I say and she does as she’s told. She places her arm on my shoulder. The touch makes me stiffen, but I don’t move. I want to get used her touches. Once her feet get into the loops, I pull the parachute up, and she places her arms through the shoulder straps. I quickly and efficiently fasten the harness, and tighten all the straps.

“There, you’ll do,” I say mildly, I am anything but. The fact that she looks in that strapped parachute is so damn hot. If I wasn’t flying, I’d take her in the nearest private location.

“Do you have your hair tie from yesterday?” I ask her. She nods.

“You want me to put my hair up?”

“Yes,” I respond. She quickly puts her hair up.

“In you go,” I command her into the cockpit. She goes to climb in the back making me grin.

“No, front. Pilot sits at the back,” I tell her.

“But will you be able to see?”

“I’ll see plenty,” I say grinning even wider.

I’m incredibly happy to introduce her to my hobby, to something I enjoy immensely. The fact that she’s looking forward to it, and happy makes me elated. She clambers in, and settled down in the front seat. I lean over, and pull the harness over her shoulders, reach between her legs for the lower belt, and buckle it into the fastener resting against her belly. I then tighten the restraining straps. ‘Beyond hot’, I think to myself.

“Hmm... twice in one morning. I am a lucky man,” I whisper and kiss her quickly. “This won’t take long... twenty, thirty minutes at the most. Thermals aren’t as great at this time of the morning, but it’s so breathtaking up there at this hour. I hope you’re not nervous,” I say.

“I’m excited,” she beams, completely happy, grinning ear to ear.

“Good,” I say grinning back at her. I suddenly feel the urge to stroke her cheek, I stroke her cheeks gently, then move to my seat. I climb into the airplane behind her.

Mark Benson comes back with his cheerful grin, he checks the straps on Anastasia, and then checks the cockpit floor.

“Yep, that’s secure. First time?” he asks.

“Yes,” Anastasia responds.

“You’ll love it,” he says.

“Thank you Mr. Benson,” she says politely.

“Call me Mark,” he tells her. Then turns to me and asks, “Okay?”

“Yep. Let’s go,” I say.

I’m beyond happy to be flying with my woman, actually having to show her some of my skills in this department are quite exciting. Mark shots the cockpit lid, and walks over to the Piper and climbs in.

When the Piper’s single propeller starts, we slowly taxi down the runway, and as the cable takes the strain, we suddenly jolt forward, and we’re off the ground. Mark talks to the tower, and Piper picks up speed and we behind it. Takes offs are usually a bit bumpy because these are small airplanes, and as the Piper gains enough speed and distance it’s airborne and so are we.

“Here we go baby!” I shout behind Anastasia. We can hear the sound of the wind and the distant hum of the Piper’s engine. Below us we can see the freeway, the rising sun, and woods and homes in the sprawling city. An extraordinary dawn is coming above the horizon making everything even more beautiful. This is the ‘golden hour’ of the day, and the fact that I’m sharing it with my woman, my Anastasia makes it only more spectacular!

As we reach 3000 feet, Mark lets me know our altitude, and I say, “Release,” into the radio. Once the cable is released, the Piper disappears from our view, and we’re no longer being pulled, just soaring over Georgia.

I bank the plane and turn and dip as we spiral toward the sun. We spiral and spiral into the morning light. This is magical.

“Hold on tight!” I shout and we dip again but this time I don’t stop and we are upside down looking to the ground through the top of the cockpit canopy. Anastasia squeals loudly in delight, I see her arms going up and lashing forward, her hands splayed on the Perspex to stop herself from falling. Her reaction makes me laugh, and we’re both enjoying the moment, and laughing hard. I turn the plane around and we are right side up again.

“I’m glad I didn’t have breakfast!” she shouts at me, and I agree.

“Yes, in hindsight, it’s good you didn’t, because I’m going to do that again,” I say, and dip the plane once more until we are upside down, and she giggles and laughs hard. I get the place level once again.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I call at Anastasia.

“Yes,” she shouts back.

It’s just me, Anastasia, the small confined space, the bubble of this plane, and the endless Georgia skies, and the early majestic morning light. If heaven exists, I’m in it right now. What more could I ask for?

“See the joy stick in front of you? I shout at her.

“Grab hold!” I want her to take control even for a little bit.

“What? No!” She says scared.

“Go on Anastasia. Grab it” I urge her vehemently.

She finally grasps it.

“Hold tight and keep it steady. See the middle dial in front? Keep the needle dead center,” I instruct her. She does as she’s told. She’s piloting the glider.

“Good girl!” I encourage her delighted.

“I am amazed you let me take control,” she shouts.

“You’d be amazed what I’d let you do, Miss Steele. Back to me now,” I say then take back the control of the airplane. What would she do if she knew the depth of my feelings for her? Would it scare her off? I have no experience in that, and the depth of my feelings I have for her scares me to my core; unfamiliarity of it, newness, and the fact that I've avoided extreme emotions all my adult life makes this experience unnerving as well as doubly enjoyable.

After I take the control of the airplane back from Anastasia, we spiral down several feet, and then I get the plane ready for landing and initiating our descent. I radio the tower.

“BMA, this is BG N Papa 3 Alpha, entering left downwind runway seven to the grass, BMA,” I say confidently. The tower gives me a go for landing. We sail around another wide circle, slowly approaching the ground. Both the airport and the landing strips are visible, and we descend flying back over I-95. Since the landing is approaching, I give Anastasia a warning:

“Hang on baby. This can get bumpy.”

I circle one more time and lower the plane, and we touch the ground with a brief thump, and we race along the grass until I bring the plane to a complete stop. The plane sways slightly and dips to the right. Once we’ve stopped, I open the cockpit lid, clamber outside and stretch my legs. Then I go back to my woman, and ask “How was that?” as happy as I can be, grinning like a teenage boy, and lean down and unbuckle her.

“That was extraordinary. Thank you,” she whispers, quite happy.

“Was it more?” I ask, hoping that it was.

“Much more,” she breathes, and I realize I’m holding my breath and let go, and can’t help myself but grin at her response.

“Come,” I hold out my hand for her, and she clambers out of the cockpit.

As soon as her feet touch the ground, I grab her and hold her flush to my body. Suddenly my hands are in her hair, tugging it making her head tip back, and my other hand travels leisurely down to the base of her spine. I kiss her long and hard with all my passion, my tongue invading her mouth. My breathing increases, speeds up, and my fervor increases, and my erection is a tent trying to get out of my pants. I’m ready to take her between the aircraft and the Runway 3. Her response lets me know that she doesn’t care if I take her on the grass or leaning on the airplane. Her hands twist in my hair, and we’re anchored to each other. She wants me, now, and that makes it harder for me to stop. I finally gain enough control to break away and gaze down at her. My eyes are dark with feral passion, full of raw carnal intent, and sensuality. She’s breathless as I am.

“Breakfast,” I barely whisper, though I know, she’d be enough for me to have for breakfast, lunch and dinner combined. She gasps as if I said, “Sex. Here. On the Grass!” Why do I lose my reason with her and she with me? But I know that the 'why' doesn't even matter. I don’t ever want that to stop. I turn and clasp her hand as we head back toward the car.

“What about the glider? She asks.

“Someone will take care of that,” I say. They’ll need to tow it. “We’ll eat now,” I say. I want her, she wants me, but she needs food.

“Come,” I smile. I’m beyond joyful. Who knew that ‘more’ would be much, much more with her? We walk like this; hand in hand both of us grinning like the Cheshire cat, like Christmas morning after receiving your favorite gift. It’s a perfect day! (←It’s a Beautiful Day by U2)

Soon after I get my woman in the car, I make her buckle, and I slide into my own seat. I back out of the parking space, and head out to I-95 towards Savannah. Her phone rings on the way. She turns it off.

“What’s that?” I ask her curiously glancing at her. Is someone calling her that she doesn’t want me to know? She fumbles in her purse.

“Alarm for my pill,” she mutters as she flushes making me immediately happy. She cares. She’s following directions to take her pill.

“Good, well done. I hate condoms,” I say, and she flushes even redder if that is at all possible. She turns and looks at me and murmurs, “I like that you introduced me to Mark as your girlfriend.”

“Isn’t that what you are?” I say raising an eye brow. She is never going to be a great sub, but, then I want more with her. She’s my girlfriend.

“Am I? I thought you wanted a submissive,” she retorts back.

“So did I, Anastasia, and I do. But I’ve told you, I want more, too,” I say, leaving her breathless.

“I’m very happy that you want more,” she whispers.

“We aim to please Miss Steele,” I say smirking as I pull into the IHOP parking lot.

“IHOP?” she grins back at me as if I can’t ever eat at International House of Pancakes.

I get out, and go to the passenger side of the car, and open her door. I proffer my hand and she takes it. It’s early, about 8:30 in the morning, and a bit quiet in the restaurant. You can smell the pancake batter and hash browns and cleaners they’ve used. I lead her to a booth to sit.

“I would never have pictured you here,” she says as she slides in her seat.

“My dad used to bring us to one of these whenever my mom went away to a medical conference. It was our secret,” I smile fondly at the memory. I pick up a menu, and skim over it. She’s looking at me with carnal appreciation, and I know what she wants; it is anything but food.

“I know what I want,” I breathe at her my voice low and husky.

She glances up at me, and I stare at her pointedly, directly speaking to her inner goddess. She gazes back at me as if to answer an unspoken call I’ve made.

“I want what you want,” she whispers. I inhale sharply.

“Here?” I ask suggestively raising an eyebrow at her and smiling wickedly as my teeth traps the tip of my tongue, effectively holding my unspoken words. But our gazes do all the talking. Her bottom lip goes into the captivity of her teeth changing my expression to I-want-to-fuck-you-now, my gaze is growing darker.

“Don’t bite your lip,” I order. “Not here, not now.” My eyes harden. I’m like a cup filled to the meniscus; one tiny drop of her salacity will overflow me, and I won’t be responsible by my actions. I don’t want to spend the rest of the morning in jail for lewd action in IHOP. “If I can’t have you here, don’t tempt me,” I whisper firmly.

“Hi, my name’s Leandra. What can I get for you..Er... today, this morning...?” she says as her voice trails off, and she stumbles over her words for some odd reason. I eye Anastasia watching the bewildered waitress, her gaze darkening with jealousy and possessiveness. The woman must be ogling me but I care nothing about that. She has the look of a female lion whose mate is being eyed by another female. It is beyond hot, and the fact that this would have been something I would do if she was the object of interest, I approve, and I fucking desire her even more now.

“Anastasia?” I prompt her unable to keep that desire, passion, and carnal interest from my voice. She swallows and responds.

“I told you, I want what you want,” she says in a soft, low voice increasing my hunger for her tenfold. The waitress looks back and forth between us, and she changes a puce color as unnatural as her hair.

“Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?” she asks.

“No. We know what we want,” I say unable to keep a twitch of smile from my lips with the duality of my meaning. One for the waitress, one for my woman.

“We’ll have two orders of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea, if you have it,” I say without taking my gaze off of Anastasia.

“Thank you sir. Will that be all?” Leandra whispers. We both turn and stare at her, and she flushes some more and scuttles away.

“You know it’s really not fair,” says Anastasia glancing down at the Formica top table. Her fingers trace a pattern on the table, and she’s trying hard to sound nonchalant.

“What’s not fair?” I ask curious.

“How you disarm people. Women. Me,” she says softly.

“Do I disarm you?” I ask curiously. She actually snorts.

“All the time,” she responds simply.

“It’s just looks Anastasia,” I say mildly.

“No, Christian, it’s much more than that,” she says with a low fervor. My brow creases knowing her effect on me.

“You disarm me totally, Miss Steele. Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap,” I say.

“Is that why you’ve changed your mind?” she asks.

“Changed my mind?” I retort confused.

“Yes-about... uhm.. us?” I stroke my chin thoughtfully assessing the question. What has changed about us?

“I don’t think I’ve changed my mind per se. We just need to redefine our parameters, redraw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that... well, I think it’s all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Steele. What say you to that?” I ask, stating my new proposition.

“So I get to sleep with you? In your bed?” she asks hopeful.

“Is that what you want?” I ask.

“Yes,” she states firmly.

“I agree then. Besides, I sleep very well when you’re in my bed. I had no idea,” I say my brow creasing, knowing the fact that I have had no nightmares every time she was in my bed. She’s like my talisman keeping the Sandman and the perpetual pimps away.

“I was frightened you’d leave me if I didn’t agree to all of it,” she confesses in a whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere Anastasia. Besides...” I trail off with unspoken thoughts. How could I leave you? I’m the one who’s afraid that you’d leave. I’m the one who can’t be without you. You wouldn’t believe what I would agree to be with you. Those thoughts are remain unsaid. Then I add, “We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You e-mailed it to me. And so far, it’s working for me.”

“I love that you want more,” she murmurs shyly.

“I know,” I say. She’s said it enough in her sleep.

“How do you know?” she asks.

“Trust me. I just do,” I say smirking at her. She narrows her eyes on me trying to decipher my expression. Our waitress Leandra arrives at that moment with our breakfast. And for a change, Anastasia eats everything on her plate. I watch her with approval, and she looks annoyed that I am happy she’s eating.

“Can I treat you?” she asks after breakfast.

“Treat me how?” I question her.

“Pay for this meal,” she says. Oh no! I don’t like my woman paying for anything.

“I don’t think so,” I grumble.

“Please. I want to,” she says making me frown.

“Are you trying to completely emasculate me?” I say.

“This is probably the only place that I’ll be able to afford to pay,” she pleads.

“Anastasia, I appreciate the thought. I do. But no,” I say. She purses her lips to my response.

“Don’t scowl,” I threaten her with my eyes glinting ominously.

I pay for the meal, and we get back into the car with her scowling at me.

“Don’t be like that,” I whisper softly. “I’m not used to it. I like to take care of you. Don’t rain on my parade Anastasia. Knowing that I’m the one doing those simple things for you, makes me happy. Okay?” I say softening the blow and kiss her lips. She can’t help herself but smile, and slides into the passenger seat. I drive her back to her mother’s house.

She looks at me as if to ask ‘how do you know where my mother lives?’ but decides against it knowing my capabilities.

“Do you want to come in? she asks shyly.

“I need to work Anastasia, but I’ll be back this evening. What time?” I ask. She looks disappointed. Her looks makes me happy that she wants me, that she’s happy I’m here, and she’s not happy with this brief separation though she’ll see me this evening. It opens up endless skies in my dark soul.

“”Thank you... for the more.” She says.

“My pleasure, Anastasia,” I reply kissing her as she inhales me in. It’s such a heady combination. My woman in my arms here and now, and she is trying to feel me every way possible.

“I’ll see you later,” she says hopeful.

“Try and stop me,” I whisper.

I drive off back to the hotel as she waves goodbye looking forlorn in my sweatshirt.

I dial Taylor on the way back to the hotel.

“Yes, sir,” he answers the phone after the first ring.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the hotel sir. I’ve taken care of the business with Mr. Benson, and had the hotel reserve one of the meeting rooms for your meeting. The company representatives are already here sir.”

“Ok. I’ll be there in fifteen. Meet me by the lobby,” I say.

“Yes, sir,” he replies and I hang up.

After I hang up, Voi Che Sapete from the 'Marriage of Figaro' starts playing, and what an appropriate song in light of my feelings for Anastasia. (← Voi Che Sapete-Opera by Mozart sung by Maria Ewing)  I make my way to the hotel with thoughts of my woman looking forward to spending more time with her at her mother’s home this evening, like a young man calling on to his girl.

When I get to the hotel, I hand the keys to the valet, and make my way to the lobby. Taylor is waiting for me as usual. He briefs me as we make our way towards the meeting room, as my Blackberry buzzes. I hold my hand up to Taylor indicating ‘one minute’. It’s a text message from Anastasia making me grin like an idiot, and right before my security detail at that.
_______________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Soaring as opposed to sore-ing
Date: June 2 2011 10:21 EST
To: Christian Grey

Sometimes, you really know how to show a girl a good time.

Thank you,

Ana x

_______________________________________

I type my reply hastily and I’m in a playful mood with her which happens often when it comes to Anastasia.

_______________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soaring as opposed to sore-ing
Date: June 2 2011 10:25 EST
To: Anastasia Steele

I’ll take either of those over your snoring. I had a good time too.

But then again, I always do when I’m with you.

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_______________________________________

She comes back with a vengeance. Oh, she’s feisty!

_______________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: SNORING
Date: June 2 2011 10:27 EST
To: Christian Grey

I DO NOT SNORE. And even if I do, it’s very ungallant of you to point it out.

You’re no gentleman, Mr. Grey! And you are in the Deep South, too!

Ana

_______________________________________

Who says she doesn’t chide or reprimand me? Of course she does. Often. In writing... But then again, that’s one of the things I love about her.

_______________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Somniloquy
Date: June 2 2011 10:29 EST
To: Anastasia Steele

I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman, Anastasia, and I think I have demonstrated that point to you on numerous occasions. I’m not intimidated by your SHOUTY capitals. But I will confess to a small white lie: No, you don’t snore, but you do talk. And it’s completely fascinating.

What happened to my kiss?

Christian Grey
Cad & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_______________________________________

I divulged into one more secret. She has talked in her sleep... in fact a lot lately. It has been more than fascinating. I was relaxing, most peaceful, soothing thing I’ve had in a very, very long time.

_______________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Spill the beans
Date: June 2 2011 10:33 EST
To: Christian Grey

You are a cad and a scoundrel, and definitely no gentleman.

So, what did I say? No kisses for you until you talk!

_______________________________________

Her reply makes me smile. I know she’s squirming in her seat. But, I’d rather hear her say it when she’s awake, and sentient.

_______________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sleeping talking beauty
Date: June 2 2011 10:36 EST
To: Anastasia Steele

It would be most ungallant of me to say, and I have already been chastised for that.

But if you behave yourself, I may tell you this evening.

I do have to go into a meeting now.

Laters, baby.

Christian Grey
 CEO, Cad & Scoundrel, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_______________________________________

We finally make it to the private meeting room. There are three people from the company which holds the land I’m interested in. After the brief introductions, we shake hands, and start talking business.

Taylor is waiting by the door, standing, looking impassive as he normally does. He must have received a message, as he turns his back, and opens his text as I see him from my peripheral vision. The color drains from his face as he blanches. What's wrong?

He eyes me, and I look at him speculatively. This is his 911 look. I nod, and he steps out to talk. Few minutes later, he enters back into the meeting room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Grey,” he says, and leans in.

“There has been trouble at Escala sir. Leila has come in all disheveled and out of sorts, not quite in her right mind, yelling and screaming and looking for you. Mrs. Jones tried to calm her down, however she cut her wrist in an attempted suicide,” he says as my  head snaps up looking at him shocked.

“What happened?” I say through gritted teeth, anxious.

“Mrs. Jones took her to the hospital, and they are now fixing her up. I think she’ll be okay,” he states.

“Tell Mrs. Jones to stay with her at the hospital until I get there. Keep her there. We might have to take her to a mental facility, and sort out her problem. Then call the pilot, have the plane ready. We’re going back to Seattle,” I say. Then I turn to my surprised company who are looking uneasy.

“Gentleman, I apologize for the interruption. It seems we might have to reschedule this meeting, and I’m sorry about that. But, I have an emergency situation in Seattle which requires me to return home. I hope you understand,” I say with an impassive face.

“Oh, Mr. Grey. We hope everything is alright,” says the older gentleman with a concern in his voice.

“Thank you Mr. Brighton. Nothing we can’t handle, just something requiring my presence. My people will get in touch with you.”

“Thank you sir,” they say, and I hastily depart from the meeting room.

Leila! Why would you do such a thing? What happened. I haven’t laid eyes on her for nearly three years, and she got married after we were separated. Ironically we were separated because she wanted more, and I didn't. She found someone who wanted those things with her. What changed in her circumstance? Taylor and I quickly make our way to my suite, and I pack my things up as Taylor makes contact with the pilot and the co-pilot. He checks us out of the hotel, and on my way to Hilton Head, I call Anastasia to tell her I won’t be able to make it for dinner. But she doesn’t answer. I don’t leave a message. If she doesn’t call me back, I’ll call her once I get back to Seattle.

But my Blackberry rings, and I see with relief that its Anastasia.

“Anastasia,” I answer the phone immediately.

“Hi,” she murmurs shyly.

“I have to return to Seattle. Something’s come up. I’m on my way to Hilton Head now. Please apologize to your mother. I can’t make it for dinner,” I say pre-occupied, upset, and business like. (← Leaving on a Jet Plane by Chantal Kreviazuk)

“Nothing serious, I hope?” she asks concerned.

“I have a situation which I have to deal with. I’ll see you Friday. I’ll send Taylor to collect you from the airport if I can’t come myself,” I say still angry with Leila, barely able to contain myself.

“Okay. I hope you sort out your situation. Have a safe flight,” she says concern lacing her voice. Concern for me... melting my heart, and her worries for one brief minute brings me back to the surface.

“You too, baby,” I breathe. This isn’t how I expected my day to go, but we take it as it comes at us. Then I hang up to call Mrs. Jones to find out the details of the incident. I’m boiling mad! And my 50 Shades is back with a vengeance.

Hello friends! Next posting will be Monday. We're nearing to the sad ending of the first book. So brace yourselves.