BOOK II - CHAPTER III - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

I KNOW YOU WANT ME

CHAPTER III

I take Anastasia to a small, and intimate French restaurant called Le Picotin. I have not particularly chosen it; it’s the only one available within the distance I’m willing to travel before I can allow her to go on without another bite. I would love to take her to a proper restaurant cooked by the best chefs in the city with a great wine selection, but I’m bereaved for time.

“This place will have to do,” I say grumbling. “We don’t have much time.” The restaurant is deep blood red in color like my Playroom with wooden chairs, mismatched eclectic linen tablecloths and with mirrors randomly placed white candles and small vases of white roses. Ella Fitzgerald is aptly crooning “This thing called love” softly in the background adding to the romantic setting. (← This Thing Called Love by Ella Fitzgerald)

The hostess leads us to a small table for two in a small alcove and Anastasia sits across from me apprehensive, and frankly I’m quite nervous because she hasn’t given me any indication so far showing me that she wants me back other than responding to my kiss in the alley. Then again, our bodies are so attuned to each other, it’s almost they speak a language uniquely their own.

“We don’t have long,” I say to the waiter to speed him up. “We’ll each have sirloin steak cooked medium, béarnaise sauce if you have it, fries, and green beans, whatever the chef has; and bring me the wine list,” I say ordering for both of us.

“Certainly sir,” says the waiter sort of taken aback; but I’m used to that sort of response because generally that’s the response when you have overwhelmingly taken control of a given situation, and I aim to do just that for the duration of the night. I place my Blackberry on the table. Anastasia is almost scowling silently. Then she speaks.

“And if I don’t like steak?” she says making me sigh and inwardly I say ‘God, give me patience tonight!’

“Don’t start, Anastasia.”

“I’m not a child, Christian,” she hisses in a low tone leaning in.

“Well, stop acting like one,” I say mirroring her action. She automatically leans back in her seat with an incredulous look on her face, blinking at me. We’re both agitated, nervous, and this isn’t going like how I envisioned.

“I’m a child because I don’t like steak?” she mutters in a hurt tone.

How could you be so obtuse Anastasia? You drove me crazy! Nearly gave me a heart attack by wrapping yourself all over the photographer making me more jealous than I have ever been of anything or anyone in my entire life! You are mine! (← Love You Long Time by PTX)

“For deliberately making me jealous. It’s a childish thing to do. Have you no regard for your friend’s feelings, leading him on like that?” I say pressing my lips into a thin line scowling and just then the waiter returns with a wine list. I’m still vibrating with jealousy and passion and anger all wrapped in one. Anastasia blushes. Suddenly what I say sinks in for which I’m grateful. I force my gaze away from her to look into the wine list.

Well, she wants to have choices; I’ll let her choose the wine if she wants to. I’m sure I can live with her choice. “Would you like to choose the wine?” I ask raising an eyebrow at her expectantly. She glares back at me.

“You choose,” she answers sullenly but chastened.

“Two glasses of the Barossa Valley Shiraz, please,” I say to the waiter.

“Err… we only sell that wine by the bottle, sir,” says the waiter. What; am I supposed to deal with him too?

“A bottle then,” I snap.

“Sir,” he says obediently and retreats. Anastasia listens to the exchange and frowns at me.

“You’re very grumpy,” she observes. Really? You think?

I gaze at her impassively, I am anything but. “I wonder why that is?”

“Well, it’s good to set the right tone for an intimate and honest discussion about the future, wouldn’t you say?” she says smiling at me sweetly.

I’m chastened by Anastasia, once again... I press my mouth into a hard line. Then I realize that I’m allowing my anger and other emotions take over control, something I wish not to hand over. Then reluctantly I feel my lips twitching into a smile. Despite the fact I want to wipe it off, I fail.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.

“Apology accepted, and I’m pleased to inform you I haven’t decided to become a vegetarian since we last ate,” she says, and it may be true, but since she hasn’t eaten since we last ate, that remark means little.

“Since that was the last time you ate, I think that’s a moot point.”

“There is that word again, moot,” she says.

“Moot,” I mouth the word as my eyes soften with humor. Exasperation sweeps over me again making me nervous. I run my hands through my hair, and my heart is constricting once more. “Ana, the last time we spoke, you left me. I’m a little nervous. I’ve told you I want you back, and you’ve said… noting,” I say with all the intensity of my emotions coming out of my pores.

What does she expect? I’m incredibly nervous, and I don’t do nervous! I’ve brokered high stakes, millions of dollars’ worth of business deals, contracts, and agreements. I have not been as nervous then, because I was in my element. With Anastasia, everything is out the window. My emotions take over, my heart flips, and my brain takes a vacation when I most need it. I look at her intensely and expectantly. She’s taken aback.

“I’ve missed you… really missed you, Christian. The past few days have been…” she says pausing to find the appropriate word, and settles for “difficult.” She swallows, and silently looks at me with some unnamed emotion. “Nothing’s changed. I can’t be what you want me to be,” she says almost choking on her words.

“You are what I want you to be,” I say fervently in a soft emphatic voice.

“No, Christian, I’m not,” she retorts.

“You’re upset because of what happened last time. I behaved stupidly, and you… So did you. Why didn’t you safe word, Anastasia?” I ask in an accusatory tone. I’ve thought about this a lot. I have always reminded her to safeword if it gets overwhelming in the playroom, and she hasn’t. She looks at me and finally hasn’t got something to say.

“Answer me,” I plead. (← Fields of Gold by Eva Cassidy)

“I don’t know,” is her first answer. “I was overwhelmed. I was trying to be what you wanted me to be, trying to deal with the pain, and it went out of my mind. You know… I forgot,” she whispers looking ashamed, shrugging apologetically.

What? I went through hell last week, because she simply forgot to use the safeword? Oh God! I’m crushed! Mortified!

“You forgot!” I gasp in horror, so upset I grab the sides of the table glaring at her. She sinks in her chair in realization. We’ve both gone through hell because she forgot to safeword!

“How can I trust you Anastasia?” I ask in a low voice. “Ever?” I trusted her to use the safeword. I trusted her to follow certain rules; I’ve reminded her time and again. How could she do that?

Just then the waiter arrives with the wine while we’re having a staring contest. He pours the wine into my glass, and I automatically take a sip.

“That’s fine,” I say in a curt voice.

The waiter fills our glasses, places the bottle on the table, and realizing the tension on the table, he hastily retreats. My gaze is glued on Anastasia with tension so thick; I can taste it in my mouth. I’m speechless. All I can do is to stare at her, and finally Anastasia breaks our eye contact, picks up her wine glass and takes a large gulp to borrow some courage from her cup.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. What? Why? Is she saying it like she did the night she left me? Is she trying to say ‘this isn’t going to work!’ I’m scared! Is this it?

“Sorry for what?” I ask in an alarmed voice.

“Not using the safeword,” she says and I feel myself washed with relief. There is hope after all! Thank you God!

“We might have avoided all this suffering,” I mutter.

“You look fine,” she says accusatory. I’m fine? I’ve died a thousand deaths every day! Sliced by a thousand superficial cuts, slowly bleeding to my death! My heart was ripped out and tossed at my feet! I’ve lost my reason for being! And you think I’ve been fine, Anastasia? How wrong you are!

“Appearances can be deceptive,” I say quietly. “I’m anything but fine. I feel like the sun has set and not risen for five days, Ana. I’m in perpetual night here,” I say my voice cracking. I’ve been through the damned hell, broken up, broken down, lost…

“You said you’d never leave, yet the going gets tough and you’re out the door,” I say accusatory.

“When did I say I’d never leave?” she asks.

“In your sleep. It was the most comforting thing I’d heard in so long, Anastasia. It made me relax.” It was my lifeline, some hope I held onto.

She says nothing. Nothing! She doesn’t look at me and reaches for her wine. Has her feelings changed for me? I want to know!

“You said you loved me,” I whisper. “Is that now in the past tense?” I say in a low voice laced in anxiety. ‘Please say no! Please say no! Please say no Anastasia! Please!’ I plead in my head in a fervent prayer. I’ve never stopped loving you!

“No, Christian, it’s not,” she says finally, and I exhale a breath in relief I didn’t know I was holding. I gaze at her hope blossoming in my heart, “Good,” I murmur.

I know I freaked out when she finally said she loved me when she was completely awake, and I felt undeserving of her love. But, I lately realized that I crave her love. I can’t live without it! I need it like I need air to breathe!

The waiter arrives with our food, and places the plates in front of us and scuttles away in a hurried fashion knowing there's tension at the table.

“Eat,” I command. I want her to get better. She looks at her food perplexed, not taking a bite. Why aren’t you eating? You’re melting away before me like a block of ice in desert heat! My anger flares again.

“So help me God, Anastasia, if you don’t eat, I will take you across my knee here in this restaurant, and it will have nothing to do with my sexual gratification. Eat!” I order forcefully.

“Okay, I’ll eat. Stow your twitching palm, please,” she says.

I keep glaring at her. I want her to start eating right now. She looks at her food again. Pick up her fork and knife. She finally slices into her steak and takes her first bite. After she starts chewing, I feel relief wash over me. Then I pick up my own knife and fork, and both of us eat in silence. She glances up at me, and catches me watching her while eating. I’m crazy for this woman before me! Crazy in love! Crazy about her! Crazy about everything she does! She and I have such a bond forged and I am nothing without her.

“Do you know who is singing?” she says getting me out of reveries. For the first time, I pay attention to this song in the background. I’ve never heard the singer or the song, but it’s beautiful.

“No…but she’s good, whoever she is,” I say smiling. (←Arms by Christina Perri)

“What?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Eat up,” I say not giving anything away.

After eating possibly only half of her food on her plate she said “I can’t manage any more. Have I eaten enough for Sir?”

I stare at her impassively. I would really like her to finish all of her food, because she’s too thin. I don’t answer, and I want to check the time to see if Taylor is already here; if he’s not, I probably can push her to eat a few more bites.

“I’m really full,” she adds and takes a sip of the wine.

“We have to go shortly. Taylor’s here, and you have to be up for work in the morning.”

“So do you,” she retorts.

“I function on a lot less sleep than you do, Anastasia,” I say. “At least you’ve eaten something.” It makes me feel a little bit better knowing that she has something in her system.

“Aren’t we going back via Charlie Tango?”

“No, I thought I might have a drink. Taylor will pick us up. Besides, this way I can have you in the car all to myself for a few hours, at least.  What can we do but talk?” I say. I want this to work, and I’ll do everything in my power to have her give me a chance to speak and hear me out.

I call the waiter, and ask for the check. I then pick my Blackberry up and call Taylor.

“We’re at Le Picotin, Southwest Third Avenue,” I say giving him the address; I hang up.

Anastasia looks up at me surprised at my abrupt conversation.

“You’re very brusque with Taylor, in fact, with most people.”

“I just get to the point quickly, Anastasia.”

“You haven’t gotten to the point this evening. Nothing’s changed, Christian,” she says. That’s where she’s wrong. Everything’s changed, and I aim to rectify all my errors.

“I have a proposition for you,” I reply.

“This started with a proposition,” she says almost mocking.

“A different proposition,” I say. A good proposition, one I hope she will not be able to resist but to agree.

The waiter comes back with my bill, and I hand him my card, impatient to get out of here. I gaze at her speculatively. I don’t want to say, what could have happened… what if? I will make the changes tonight. While the waiter is charging my credit card, my phone buzzes, and I look at it, seeing the text from Taylor. He says he’s outside. I sign my credit card slip, and stand up, I proffer my hand to Anastasia.

“Come. Taylor’s outside,” I say.

We stand up, her hand in mine.

“I don’t want to lose you Anastasia” I say with all my passion, I kiss her knuckles tenderly. Our connection makes me buzzing with all sorts of emotions, and desire.

When we go outside, my Audi is waiting. I take Anastasia’s hand and lead her into the SUV. I go to the driver’s side, and Taylor, knowing I will ask something of him comes out of the vehicle.

“Taylor, I want you to put your iPod on, and make sure your ear buds remain plugged until I tell you otherwise. Sync it with the car please, so I can verify it’s on.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, and plugs in his ear buds in my presence.

“Let’s go!”

“Yes, sir.”

After my instructions to Taylor are over, I return to my seat next to Anastasia. She glances at me quizzically, but, staring ahead, I give nothing away donning my impassive face.

I see from peripheral vision that Anastasia’s watching me, examining, memorizing my features as if they may be the last time she’s looking at me. I let her take all of me in; see what she will have, because she won’t be losing me if I can help it...

When finally Taylor syncs his iPod with the car’s sound system, a soft Puccini aria starts playing. (← O Mio Babbino Caro sung by Angela Gheorghiu) He pulls the Audi into the light traffic, heading for the I-5 and Seattle. This is my cue to start talking to Anastasia as Taylor is out of the hearing distance. I shift my body to turn to Anastasia to take her in face to face.

“As I was saying, Anastasia, I have a proposition for you,” I say. With this she glances at Taylor nervously as if to say she’s embarrassed of talking in front of him.

“Taylor can’t hear you,” I reassure her, but she’s doubtful.

“How?”

“Taylor?” I call, but he doesn’t respond. I call his name again once more, there is still no response. I lean in, and tap Taylor’s shoulder at which time Taylor removes one of the ear buds, and finally gives a response to my physical contact.

“Yes, sir?” he inquires politely.

“Thank you, Taylor. It’s alright; resume your listening.”

“Sir,” he replies.

“Happy now? He’s listening to his iPod. Puccini. Forget he’s here. I do,” I say nonchalantly.

“Did you deliberately ask him to do that?”

“Yes, I did,” I reply.

She shakes her head as if to clear her head from some errant thought, changes gears. “Okay, your proposition?”

This is it. I have to lay all my cards, and I have to present my winning hand. I get my business face on; the one where I don’t intend to lose on a negotiation. Anastasia gets her ‘I’m negotiating a deal; you better not give me a fucked up deal,’ face on, pure attention.

“Let me ask you something first. Do you want a regular vanilla relationship with no kinky fuckery at all?” I ask. We’ve never had problems in any sort of fuckery; kinky or otherwise, but I want to clear the air once and for all. If I were to go by the indications, she rather enjoyed them  quite well. But, that doesn’t clarify what is in her heart; I need to hear it straight from her own lips.

“Kinky fuckery?” she asks shocked and embarrassed with the company in the car though Taylor can’t hear a thing.

“Kinky fuckery,” I confirm. (←Lost by Bruno Mars) That’s what it is, and I’ll call it by its real name.

“I can’t believe you said that,” she says nervously glancing at Taylor.

“Well, I did. Answer me,” I ask calmly and firmly. I need to clear out every aspect of our relationship as she’s not as communicative, and I will make damn sure that I will have no stone unturned to make her happy in every aspect one hundred percent.

She flushes, and looks down her hands, shy.

“I like your kinky fuckery,” she whispers in a small voice confirming my gut feeling. My inner sex god does a cartwheel in excitement. That’s one victory, but more subjects to be aired out to be completely through.

“That’s what I thought. So what don’t you like?” I ask trying to completely comprehend her likes and dislikes. She looks at me, and sighs. Takes a deep breath as if to flush out some anxiety, some exasperation out of her system. She doesn’t speak a long moment, and I stare at her intently without even blinking.

“The threat of cruel and unusual punishment,” she says. But, that expression means different things to different people. I have to know what it means to her.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Well, you have all those canes and whips and stuff in your playroom, and they frighten the living daylights out of me. I don’t want you to use them on me,” she says. I’ve already destroyed them anyway, so it’s a non-issue right now.

“Okay, so no whips or canes – or belts, for that matter I say sardonically knowing what caused our breakup.

She gazes at me puzzled, and trying to confirm if she’s heard me correctly, completely puzzled.

“Are you attempting to redefine the hard limits?” she asks for clarification.

“Not as such; I’m just trying to understand you, get a clearer picture of what you do and don’t like,” I explain. With that she gets a certain understanding and responds.

“Fundamentally, Christian, it’s your joy in inflicting pain on me that’s difficult for me to handle. And the idea that you’ll do it because I have crossed some arbitrary line,” she says in one breath.

“But it’s not arbitrary; the rules are written down,” I rebuttal.

“I don’t want a set of rules,” she says. That’s what I thought. A man can still attempt to negotiate without giving away what he’s going to compromise.

“None at all?” I ask trying to confirm.

“No rules,” she says shaking her head. Damn woman! You should work for me with those negotiating skills. If you can bring me down to my knees, you can do that to anybody.

“But you don’t mind if I spank you?” I ask.

“Spank me with what?” she asks narrowing her eyes, businesslike, trying to get her best deal. And that’s good, because she too is on negotiating table, and she too is playing her best hand.

“This,” I say holding up my hand. Her demeanor changes with that show. She squirms involuntarily in a well contained excitement or with remembrance of the exciting moments we’ve had together just using my hands to spank in the fun, and sexual context.

“No, not really,” she responds shyly, flushing. “Especially with those silver balls…” she drifts off. Her response makes smile. I was right; she does enjoy the spanking in a sexual context.

“Yes, that was fun,” I say remembering.

“More than fun,” she mutters agreeing with me.

“So you can deal with some pain,” I confirm. She shrugs nonchalantly.

“Yes, I suppose,” she replies. Her breathing becomes shallower and more rapid; her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Hmm… There is hope for us yet, and my heart skips a beat with excitement. I stroke my chin, thinking hard how to word my proposal to get the best response from her.

“Anastasia, I want to start again,” I say seeking fresh, and brand new beginning for both of us. “Do the vanilla thing and then maybe, once you trust me more and I trust you to be honest and to communicate with me, we could move on and do some of the things that I like to do,” I say laying out my compromise.

She stares at me as if she’s heard me incorrectly, completely stunned with a blank expression. I can tell that this wasn’t the compromise she was expecting. I don’t know what she’s thinking. Her face is devoid of any expressions. Primarily because she’s so stunned with what I’m willing to do for her, her expression reflects that the lights are on, but Anastasia stepped out for the moment kind of face…  Finally she finds her voice and asks, “But what about punishments?”

“No punishments,” I say shaking my head. I’ve decided on that concession the night she left me.

“None,” I say by the way of confirming.

“And the rules?” she asks.

“No rules,” I say. Baby, you don’t know extents I would go to keep you! You have no idea how much I love and care for you!

“None at all?” she asks incredulous. “But you have needs.”

“I need you more, Anastasia. These last few days have been purgatory. All my instincts tell me to let you go, tell me I don’t deserve you.” I say sighing.

“Those photos the boy took… Jose took,” I say correcting, “…I can see how he sees you. You look so untroubled and beautiful, not that you’re not beautiful now, but here you sit. I see your pain. It’s hard knowing that I’m the one who has made you feel this way.

“But, I’m a selfish man. I’ve wanted you since you fell into my office. You are exquisite, honest, warm, strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless. I am in awe of you. I want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul.”

Anastasia’s smart mouth is completely speechless; devoid of words. Her chest is now rising and falling rapidly as if she’s running a particularly hard marathon, and she needs every molecule of air she can deposit into her lungs. All of a sudden, she gathers her thoughts, and words just spill out of her pores.

“Christian, why do you think you have a dark soul? I would never say that. Sad maybe, but you’re a good man. I can see that … you’re generous, you’re kind, and you’ve never lied to me. And I haven’t tried very hard,” she replies completely shocking me.

“Last Saturday was such a shock to my system. It was my wake-up call. I realized that you’d been easy on me and that I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be. Then, after I left, it dawned on me the physical pain you inflicted was not as bad as the pain of losing you.  I do want to please you, but it’s hard,” she utters.

“You please me all the time,” I whisper to her. “How often will I have to tell you that?”

“I never know what you’re thinking. Sometimes you’re so closed off… like an island state. You intimidate me. That’s why I keep quiet. I don’t know which way your mood is going to go. It swings from north to south and back again in a nanosecond. It’s confusing and you won’t let me touch you, and I want to so much to show you how much I love you,” she utters completely shocking me.

Her declaration completely surprises me. I thought she stopped loving me, and she didn’t give me any indication since I picked her up otherwise making my already overwhelmed heart burdened with more worry. But what she had said just now, completely washes me with serenity, soothes the tornadoes that have been brewing in me since she left. First time in a week, I feel elated, and truly happy. If this is not heaven, I don’t know what is! I blink in the darkness, and warily, unable to completely comprehend if this is exactly what I heard. She unbuckles her seatbelt and scramble onto my lap, shocking me so much that she could have knocked me with a feather. She takes my head into her hands.

“I love you, Christian Grey. And you’re prepared to do all this for me. I’m the one who is undeserving, and I’m just sorry that I can’t do all those things for you. Maybe with time… I don’t know… but yes, I accept your proposition. Where do I sign?” she declares.

If I died right now, I’d die a happy man! She never stopped loving me! She’s willing to make concessions, accommodate my needs. Oh, God! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for hearing me! I love this woman so much! Finally I realize that this is not a dream, not a trick my brain is playing on me, and that Anastasia really truly loves me; me! This insignificant man! I snake my arms around her and crush her to me.

“Oh, Ana!” I breathe ad I bury my nose in her hair, inhaling her scent, kissing her hair. We sit, wrapped around each other, listening to a soothing piano music, completely reflecting what we are feeling right now, a tranquil tone. (← Bella’s Lullaby from Twilight) She just snuggles into my arms resting her head in the crook of my neck. I just stroke her back soothing both of our ravaged souls with the events of last week.

“Touching is a hard limit for me, Anastasia,” I whisper. I want more than anything for her to touch me, explore where no one has ever been allowed. But, I just can’t, and it kills me that I have to deny that to her!

“I know. I wish I understood why,” she whispers.  I sigh. She deserves to know. She’s made so many concessions for me, and I want to openly communicate with her.

“I had a horrific childhood. One of the crack whore’s pimps…” I say in a soft voice, trailing off. Tension comes back to my body with remembrance of the tortures, punishments, and beatings by the pimp. “I can remember that,” I whisper shuddering. She takes a sharp breath in, worrying for me, and tightens her arms around my neck as if to reassure me, soothe and comfort me. It is the most human, most welcome reaction I have had from her. She loves me!

“Was she abusive? Your mother, I mean?” she asks in a low soft voice laced with emotion.

“Not that I remember. She was neglectful. She didn’t protect me from her pimp,” I say recalling.

I snort and say, “I think it was me who looked after her. When she finally killed herself, it took four days for someone to raise the alarm and find us… I remember that,” I say. Indeed that’s a nightmare played over and over again almost every night.

Anastasia gasps in horror. “That’s pretty fucked-up,” she whispers.

“Fifty shades,” I murmur. Now she has some idea of my issues and sharing that information with her lifts some walls off between us. Anastasia responds by pressing her lips against my neck, offering solace, and her love in her kiss. She inhales me, seeking connection, touching my soul. I’m complete with her. I tighten my arms around her and kiss her hair. I am a happy man as we are wrapped in each other’s embrace. There’s not another thing, not another person I want in this moment other than Anastasia cradled in my arms right now.

While I hold her like this, she slowly and peacefully drifts into sleep. I watch her long minutes. Stroke her hair, smelling her womanly scent, clean soap, fresh outdoors, and her particular brand of scent uniquely Ana. How I love her! What I wouldn’t do for her! The knowledge that she’s mine once again, relives me. I will either cry, or do a cartwheel with relief and joy neither of which is appropriate for the place and time we are in.

We drive like that all the way to Seattle, and Anastasia finally wakes up as we are driving through the city.

“Hey,” I say softly to her sleepy gaze.

“Sorry,” she softly apologizes, blinking and stretching, trying to gain her bearing. She’s still in my arms, and I have no intention of letting her off.

“I can watch you sleep forever, Ana,” I say.

“Did I say anything?” she asks remembering her other nocturnal confessions.

“No. We’re nearly at your place,” I say which surprises her.

“We’re not going to your place?” she asks.

“No,” I reply.

She sits up gazing at me, trying to decipher my face as if it’s a piece of complicated puzzle.  “Why not?” she inquires.

“Because you have work tomorrow,” I simply state, and it’s the truth, but not the complete truth.

“Oh,” she says pouting with realization. Although, she doesn’t have to work, and should call in sick, I’d rather wait, and have her pine for me; I aim for her to beg. If I gave it, that would defeat the purpose. It’ll give both of us sweet torture, but the love making afterwards will be much more intense, and passionate.

I smirk at her expression. “Why, did you have something in mind?” I ask mischievously.

She flushes. Yep, she had other ideas. “Well, maybe,” she replies.

I chuckle at her response. “Anastasia, I’m not going to touch you again, not until you beg me to.” (← Everything by Michael Buble)

This piece of information shocks her.

“What!” she exclaims.

“So that you’ll start communicating with me. Next time we make love, you’re going to have to tell me exactly what you want in fine detail.”

“Oh,” she says. I shift her off my lap as Taylor pulls up outside of her apartment complex. I climb out of the car, and hold the door open for her.

“I have something for you,” I say moving to the trunk of the car, and pull out a large giftwrapped box containing her belongings; laptop, Blackberry, iPad and her car keys. She looks at me speculatively; curious.

“Open it when you get inside,” I say.

“You’re not coming in?” she asks surprised.

“No, Anastasia,” I reply.

“So, when will I see you?” she asks, and I have longed to hear that from her for what feels like a very long time.

“Tomorrow,” I respond. And even tomorrow isn’t close enough, but I want her to beg in anticipation.

“My boss wants me to go for a drink with him tomorrow,” she says, and I automatically get upset, my face hardens. “Does he now?” I say menacingly. Fucking bastard is already moving in on my woman. (←Next Contestant by Nickelback)

“To celebrate my first week,” she adds quickly. There are all sorts of women work for men; they don’t all go out for a celebratory drink of their first week unless the guy wants to get into her panties.

“Where?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“I could pick you up from there,” I reply.

“Okay... I’ll e-mail or text you.”

“Good.”

I walk her to the lobby door, and wait for her to fish out her keys. The sight of her, here, in my presence, with me unfurls something inside. I lean in and cup her chin, tilting her head back. As my mouth hovers over hers, I close my eyes and run a trail of kisses from the corner of her eye to her mouth, but I stop short of her lips. A desirous moan escapes her wanting, and expecting more.

“Until tomorrow,” I breathe.

“Goodnight Christian,” she whispers laden with need and want. It’s working. Knowing that makes me smile.

“In you go,” I order, and she walks through the lobby.

“Laters, baby,” I call out to her, and walk back to the car completely relieved. I’m so curious to see what she will think, how she will react to my apology, and my indirect declaration of love for her. I hope she loves it. I hope she understands what I want to say to her that I can’t say out loud. Not yet anyway.

Taylor speeds away to Escala. He too is visibly relaxes after the last week’s horrors, and tension he and Mrs. Jones had to endure. He drops me off.

“Thank you Taylor,” I say and a genuine smile creeps on his face.

“You’re most welcome sir,” he replies.

I go up to my apartment. Shed my clothes off to more comfortable pajama bottoms. I go and pour myself a glass of wine, and make my way to the piano. First time in a long time, I feel like playing something happy.

I hear my Blackberry buzzing on top of the piano. It’s Anastasia.

______________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: IPAD
Date: June 9 2011 23:56
To: Christian Grey

You’ve made me cry again.
I love the iPad.
I love the songs.
I love the British Library App.
I love you.
Thank you.
Goodnight.

Ana xx

______________________________________
Her simple response makes me instantly joyous.
______________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: IPAD
Date: June 10 2011 00:03
To: Anastasia Steele

I’m glad you like it. I bought one for myself. Now, if I were there, I would kiss away your tears.

But I’m not, so go to sleep.

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

______________________________________

I wish I was there to hold her, to see her reaction, to kiss away her tears. But it will have to wait.  (← Possession by Sarah McLachlan)

______________________________________
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Mr. Grumpy
Date: June 10 2011 00:07
To: Christian Grey

You sound your usual bossy and possibly tense, possibly grumpy self, Mr. Grey.
I know something that could ease that. But then, you’re not here – you wouldn’t let me stay, and you expect me to beg...
Dream on Sir.

Ana xx

PS: I also note that you included the Stalker’s Anthem, “Every Breath You Take,” I do enjoy your sense of humor, but does Dr. Flynn know?

______________________________________

I have missed her smart mouth; I’m contemplating the creative ways in which to render some enjoyable punishment. (Every Breath You Take by the Police)

______________________________________
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Zen-like calm
Date: June 10 2011 00:10
To: Christian Grey

My Dearest Miss Steele,

Spanking occurs in vanilla relationships, too, you know. Usually consensually and in a sexual context... but I am more than happy to make an exception.
You’ll be relieved to know that Dr. Flynn also enjoys my sense of humor.
Now, please go to sleep as you won’t get much tomorrow.
Incidentally – you will beg, trust me. And I look very much forward to it.

Christian Grey
Tense CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

______________________________________
I hit send, and more than ever now I wish she was here. But, patience is a virtue, and at this time, I do want her to beg, and want me as she has never wanted me before.
______________________________________
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Goodnight, Sweet dreams
Date: June 10 2011 00:12
To: Christian Grey

Well, since you ask so nicely, and I like your delicious threat, I shall curl up with the iPad that you have so kindly given me and fall asleep browsing in the British Library, listening to the music that says it for you

Ana xxxx

______________________________________
I love it when she acquiesces. I love it when she argues. I love it when she’s mad. I love it when she is loving me! I just love her! I’m a man in love!
______________________________________
From: Christian Grey
Subject: one more request
Date: June 10 2011 00:15
To: Anastasia Steele

Dream of me.
x

Christian Grey
Tense CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

______________________________________

First time in a week, Anastasia’s image in my head chases away the nightmares, and I have a peaceful sleep, devoid of the pimp or the horrors he inflicted on me.  Dreams of just me and Anastasia. (Dream On by Aerosmith)

Thank you for stopping by and reading and commenting! Next posting is on Thursday. I'm not quite done with the next chapter yet, and I promise it'll deliver something up to your expectations :)