BOOK II - CHAPTER XIII - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free;
Love me no more, but love my love of thee.*

CHAPTER XIII

* Algernon Charles Swinburne (from his poem – EROTION)

Anastasia turns and asks me if I talked to Elena today.

“Yes,” I reply.

“What did you say?” she asks curiously. It’s not necessary to tell her how furious I was with Elena; because I don’t want to further feed her anger towards Elena.

“I said that you didn’t want to see her, and told her that I understood your reasons. I also made it clear to her that I didn’t appreciate her going behind my back to contact you,” I tell her with an impassive face. I am nervous at how she might react, because when Elena’s name comes up, Anastasia reacts as if she stepped on live wire. 

“What did she say?” (←Don’t Mess With My Man by Nivea) 

 

“She brushed it off like Elena would,” I say. It is true that Elena did try to brush it off, but I was already having a very shitty day thanks to Anastasia here, so, Elena actually got stuck in the shit storm coming from me. Anastasia’s eyes scrutinize my face. My lips give the smallest crook which doesn’t translate into a smile, but then she has this effect on me which makes me want to grin at her most the time. 

“Why do you think she’s here now?” she asks concerned that maybe this has something to do with my conversation with her. I’m wondering that too. 

“I have actually no idea,” I say shrugging. 

Taylor comes back into the living room with Elena in tow, and he announces “Mrs. Lincoln.” I don’t think Taylor likes Elena, being the professional he is, he doesn’t give much away. 

Elena is in her usual all black attire: black jeans that are just like a second skin on her legs, a black body hugging shirt, and her signature well groomed blonde hair.  

As Elena enters into the room, I automatically pull Anastasia into my arms protectively; ready to shield her from anyone who dares to come in her proximity. “Elena,” I greet her, still puzzled with her presence here. She must have assumed that what she had witnessed before a show before, because when she sees my arms all wrapped around Anastasia her mouth drops open, and in fact I see Taylor gleefully restraining himself from helping her lift her jaw off the floor as he’s exiting the door. He’s amused I notice, and frankly, so am I. Elena manages to blink herself into her I’m-now-back-in-control face and softens her voice couple of notches. 

“I’m sorry Christian. I didn’t realize you had company with you. It is Monday,” she says as if this will explain her visit. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday: Anastasia is my girlfriend 24/7 around the clock. So, Monday wouldn’t make a jack shit difference. Anastasia is not my sub! But I have the greatest pleasure of announcing her that Anastasia is my “Girlfriend.” Saying that out loud to her in Anastasia and Elena’s presence gives me great pleasure, and I smirk.  Of course Elena smiles back, and only at me. 

“Of course, Christian. Hello, Anastasia. I didn’t know you’d be here. I know you don’t want to talk to me and I accept that,” she says to Ana.

“Do you?” asks Anastasia quietly, in a cold steady tone, her gaze is boring into Elena. Her completely in control demeanor takes me by surprise, and I think Elena is shocked as well because she takes a few steps back as if she’s shoved away.

“Yes, I get the message. I’m not here to see you. As I said, Christian rarely has company during the week,” she says, and explains, “I have a problem, and I would like to talk to Christian about it.”

This is news, and actually a welcome distraction with her friction between Anastasia. “Really?” I ask my curiosity piqued. “Do you want a drink?” I ask finding my manners after scolding her today.

“Yes, please,” she replies with a welcome sound. She must have thought I was going to kick her out. I walk to get her a drink, grab some wine glasses while leaving Anastasia and Elena alone in the living room for a minute. Elena finally walks to the kitchen island, and sits on the bar stool where she usually claims her seat. When I turn with glasses and bottle of wine, Anastasia scoots on the bar stool I vacated. I put a glass before Elena and Anastasia and pour them wine. 

“What’s up?” I ask Elena without a preamble. 

Elena is nervous, because she wants privacy, and Anastasia’s presence is unwelcome for her. She doesn’t have to say in words; I know Elena so well, I can read the thought in her face no matter how hard she tries to hide it. It’s time to nip it in the bud. She needs to understand that Anastasia isn’t a sub; she isn’t ordinary. She’s my girlfriend. I reach out to Anastasia’s hand and clasp it before Elena’s widening gaze. There’s no one like Anastasia; no one is her equal in my eyes. (←No One Like You by Scorpions) 

“Anastasia’s with me now,” I say to her in a tone she understands well: Deal with it! Anastasia’s eyes widen, grateful. Elena’s face changes into a soft tone. She was the first one to tell me I was in love with Anastasia. It is that look that says she’s pleased and happy for me. Anastasia flushes. 

Elena finally nods, accepting. Because my words, demeanor and stance all indicate to her that she either speaks to me in Anastasia’s presence or she can leave. I want Anastasia to see that I have nothing to hide from her. Elena looks very nervous. She starts looking at her hands, and starts twisting the silver ring on her middle finger over and over again like it will provide her the answer she is seeking. I haven’t seen like this often – Elena, not knowing what to do about something. She’s always in control, always cool, calm, and collected. After fidgeting her in her seat a little more, she figures out that the silver ring in her middle finger won’t be providing her with the answers she’s seeking; she finally lifts her head up, assumes her ‘in-control’ of her emotions demeanor and looks at me squarely in the eye.

“I’m being blackmailed,” she states flatly. About what? But, I have a feeling of what it might be about. I stiffen immediately. The only thing that is against her is what she had with me. Her lifestyle is not illegal... but yet, she wouldn’t want to make it public...

“How?” I ask with horror clearly lacing my voice.

Elena reaches into her Louis Vuitton bag a takes out a note and tries to hand it to me. I shake my head.

“No, put it down, and lay it out on the breakfast counter,” I say surprising Elena.

“You don’t want to touch it?” she asks confused.

“Of course not. Fingerprints,” I say by the way of explanation.

“But, Christian, you know I can’t go to police with this,” she says. She opens up the note and I lean down to read it. But the amount they’re asking for surprises me. 

“They’re only asking for five thousand Dollars. Do you have any idea who it might be? Maybe someone in the community?” I ask Elena.

“No idea,” she answers softly.

“Could it be Linc?” I ask indicating her ex-husband, who after all beat the shit out of her after he discovered her illicit affair with me.

“What? After all this time? I don’t think so,” she says grouchily. 

“How about Isaac – does he know?” I ask about her current submissive.

“I haven’t told him,” she replies. 

“I think he needs to know,” I respond, because if Elena’s lifestyle is going to be laid bare, so would Isaac’s. He has a right to know. Elena shakes her head. Anastasia tries to pull her hand away from me. Why? Is she mad? I hold it tighter, unwilling to let it go. She pulls again. I grasp once more in a tight hold and turn to look at her questioning.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m tired, Christian. I think I’ll go to bed,” she says. I assess her face. Is she angry? Sad? Hostile? Accepting? Her face is impassive, expressionless, but her eyes contain just the trace amount of jealousy. 

“Okay. I won’t be long,” I say reassuring her, I release her hand. Anastasia stands up to go to the bedroom, and Elena follows her movements with wary eyes, but Anastasia says nothing.

“Goodnight, Anastasia,” says Elena with a polite smile.

“Goodnight,” grumbles Anastasia in a forced, cold voice as if she’s radiating tension. That’s what she’s been hiding behind the impassive face. 

When Anastasia leaves the room, I turn to Elena and tell her exactly what is going through my mind. 

“I don’t think there’s a great deal I can do, Elena. If it’s a question of money...” I say the thought hanging in the air. It’s not a lot of money to begin with as they’re asking only five thousand dollars. Is this someone’s idea of a joke, or are they trying to taunt her? “I could ask Welch to investigate this,” I say, and this is the best I can do for this problem. 

“No need, Christian. I just wanted to share,” she says. Of course she’s got a name to protect. But what she says next changes the topic.

“You look...” she says pausing as if to find the right words to say to me, “look very happy.” That about sums it.

“Yes, I am,” I reply truthfully.

“You deserve to be happy,” she says. 

“I wish it were true,” I say sadly. Her face changes to one of patronizing. 

“Christian! Does she know how negative you are about yourself?” she asks scolding. “About all your issues...” she adds raising her eyebrows significantly. But it is more than a question. It’s a challenge. Is Anastasia just a sexual partner, or more?

“She knows me better than anyone,” I say to let her make the distinction on her own. 

“Ouch! That hurts,” she comments. I was right; she was indicating that she knew me better than anyone else.

“It’s the plain truth Elena. I don’t have to play games with her. And I mean it; you need to leave her alone,” I say boring into her eyes, drilling this.

“What’s her problem?” she asks as if there is something wrong with Anastasia for not wanting to hang out with her and swap recipes – if Elena cooked that is. 

“You are...What we were...what we did. She doesn’t understand that.” 

“Then make her understand, Christian,” she insists. The audacity!

“Elena, that’s the past. Why would I want to make her understand and taint her with our fuckedup relationship? Anastasia isn’t like that – she’s incredibly sweet, and good,” I say and sigh with an immediate longing for her though she’s in the same house. That doesn’t escape Elena’s shrewd gaze. And still in awe of the fact of Anastasia’s love for me, I add, “and by some miracle she loves me.”  And I’m head over heels in love with her! (←Head Over Heels by Fears For Fears) 

 

“It is no miracle Christian,” Elena chides me. “You really have to have a little faith in yourself. You truly are quite a catch. I’ve told you this often,” she says and looks in the direction of my bedroom. “Anastasia seems lovely too. She seems strong,” she says probably remembering how Anastasia gave her what’s for in the fundraising. “She seems like someone to stand up to you.”

I smile at how she drove me crazy all day, going toe to toe with me. Standing up to me? She’s a life force to be reckoned with.

“Yes, she’s large and in charge.”

“Don’t you miss it?” Elena asks raising her eyebrows.

“What?” I snap.

“Your playroom,” she asks. Why would she ask about that, and why the fuck is this any of her business?

“That is really none of your fucking business, Elena,” I snap at her, my eyes going dark. She’s trying to take charge of my life, and I don’t like it one bit. She retreats right away.

“I’m sorry,” she says in the most insincere fashion. She’s just testing her boundaries like a predator. Checking for that chink in the armor. I have to nip it in the bud.

“I think you had better go. And from now on, please call before you come again,” I glare at her wanting her to leave.

“I really am sorry, Christian,” she says this time finally meaning what she says. “Since when are you so sensitive?” she censures me. This has gone far enough. I don’t want Elena talking about Anastasia as if she’s a sub, or as if she’s someone who can be replaced. My playroom is not more important than Anastasia. She’s the most important thing in my life!

“Elena, what you and I have now is a business relationship which clearly has profited both of us immensely. Let’s just keep it that way. What we had,” I say emphasizing in the past tense, “between us is now part of the past. Anastasia is my future. I won’t jeopardize it in anyway, so cut the fucking crap!” I say making it clear that Anastasia is her off limits.

“I see,” she says blandly, but these two words have finally the understanding what I have been trying to drill into her all along. 

“Look... I’m sorry for your current trouble. Maybe you should just ride it out and call them on their bluff,” I say softening blow. But Elena’s mind is elsewhere. 

“I don’t want to lose you Christian,” she says softly. Is she coming on to me?

“I’m not yours to lose Elena!” I snap, seething with anger.

“That’s not what I meant,” she tries to correct herself, but I know Elena all too well.

“What did you mean then? Enlighten me,” I say my anger not receding. 

“Look Christian, I’m not going to argue with you. Your friendship means a lot to me. I’ll back off from Anastasia, but I’m here for you if you need me,” she says looking into my eyes intently. “I always will be,” she adds firmly. 

“Anastasia thinks that you saw me last Saturday,” I say remembering that Elena lied to her. “You just called, that’s all. Why did you tell her otherwise?” I probe.

“I only wanted her to know how upset you were when she left you. I don’t want her to hurt you,” she says.

“She knows. I’ve told her about it. Stop interfering in my relationship. God, you’re like a mother hen,” I say exasperated. 

“I know, and I’m sorry about that. You must know I care about you. I never thought you’d end up falling in love Christian. But it is very gratifying to see. On the other hand, I couldn’t bear to see if she hurt you,” she says concern lacing her voice.

“I’ll take my chances,” I say still not willing to let her butt in. “Now, are you sure you don’t want Welch to sniff around this?”

“I guess it wouldn’t do any harm,” she says sighing. 

“Alright. I’ll call Welch in the morning,” I say getting up, wanting her to leave.

“Thank you Christian,” she says, getting up. “And, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll go now, and next time I’ll call,” she adds.

“Good,” I say firmly.

I lead Elena out of the penthouse, and make my way back to my bedroom hastily, concerned about Anastasia. When I get back to my bedroom Anastasia is sitting on my bed.

“She’s gone,” I say softly and warily, trying to assess what she’s thinking. Is she mad?

She looks up at me, and what she says surprises me. “Will you tell me about her? I’m just trying to comprehend why you think she helped you,” she says, and pauses before she completes her thought. “I do loathe her, Christian. I believe she caused you untold damage. You have no friends; did she keep them away from you?” she asks. 

Two exasperating women in one night are too much to handle. I run my hand through my hair; I just want to groan! Argh!

“Why the fuck do you want to know about her?” I say angrily. “We had a very long standing affair, she beat the shit out of me very often, and I fucked her in all sorts of ways you can’t even imagine. That’s the end of the story,” I say in one breath, getting angrier by the minute. 

Blood drains out of Anastasia’s face. She swallows. She’s surprised and blinks. “Why are you so angry at me?”

“Because all that shit is OVER!” I shout at her angrily, willing her to fucking understand. Fuck! I’m losing it with her! She blanches, checking out. She looks down at her hands, so tightly knotted, blood draining out of them, paling. I don’t want to hide anything from her. I just don’t want her to focus on my past too much which she clearly hates. 

I finally calm down, and sit beside her. “What do you want to know?” I ask warily.

She shakes her head withdrawn, “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to intrude,” she says softly. 

It’s not about intrusion; it’s how my past and my future is crashing into each other, and I’m the one who is going to get hurt in this collision, possibly by losing her. 

“It’s not that Anastasia. I really hate talking about this shit, because I’ve lived in a bubble for years with nothing affecting me. I didn’t have to justify myself to anyone. And, Elena has been there as a confidante. But now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible,” I say, emotionally exhausted. Her gaze comes up to meet my wary eyes. 

“I never thought I would have a future with anyone, Anastasia. Yet, you give me hope and have me thinking about all sorts of possibilities,” I say drifting. Some of which I don’t have the heart to convey to her. It’s beyond living together. It’s more...like in the line of forever. (←Colorblind by Counting Crows) 

 

“I was listening,” she says embarrassed, staring back down to her hands. 

“Listening to what? You mean to our conversation?” I ask.

“Yes,” she replies softly.

“Well?” I ask finally resigned. What did she think of what she heard?

“She cares for you,” Anastasia concludes.

“Yes, I believe she does. I for her in my own way, but that doesn’t come close to how I feel about you at all. If this is what this is about...” I say thinking she’s jealous, and it’s not all unwelcome. I like her being jealous of me. 

“I’m not jealous,” she states, unsure of her thoughts. “You don’t love her,” she murmurs. Is this a question that’s bugging her? It must be.

I sigh, getting angry. It’s my fucking past! I can’t change it! It happened; I lived it, now I’m over it. I’m with her now! Doesn’t that count for something?

“A long time ago, I thought I loved her,” I say baring my fucking soul through my gritted teeth. She is surprised with this statement. 

“But, when we were in Georgia...” she says slowly, scared to find out what I might say, “you said you didn’t love her.” 

“That’s right,” I answer. But my answer gives her a confused frown.

“I loved you then Anastasia,” I whisper. Does she not know how much? “You’re the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see,” I state fervently. Not Elena, not someone else. Just Anastasia! Her frown deepens, not understanding.

“Everything I feel for you is very different than any feeling I ever had for Elena,” I explain. 

“When did you know?” she asks. I shrug.

“Ironically, Elena pointed that out to me. In fact she encouraged me to go to Georgia,” I tell her. She shakes her head. Her hands runs through her face as if to wash off some unsavory thought from her mind finally her fingers clasp each other firmly on her lap. She swallows nervously. 

“So you desired her when you were younger?” 

  “Yes,” I reply, and her face falls. 

“She taught me a great deal. She taught me to believe in myself,” I explain. We live what we have to at a time, and that’s what I had when I was younger; a fucked up teen wallowed up and drowning in my own issues, unable to find the shore - and Elena simply showed me the way to it in her fucked up way. I believe there is an old eastern proverb to explain this well: Those who fall into the ocean, hang onto a snake if they must to stay afloat.  

“But she also beat the shit out of you,” Anastasia says disapprovingly. 

Somehow the thought of it makes me happy, and I smile fondly of the memory. Because I was an arrogant, trouble making teen that needed to be beat at the time. “Yes, she did,” I reply. 

“And you liked that?” she asks incredulous. 

“At the time I did,” I reply. 

“Huh,” says Anastasia with surprise. “So much so that you wanted to do it to others?” she asks. 

Her assessment is correct. I want to be honest with her, but my eyes grow wide with wariness, and I am serious now, “Yes,” I respond quietly. 

“Did she help you with that?” she probes further. Does she really want to find that out? 

“Yes,” I reply. 

“Did she sub for you?”  She asks as her gaze is locked on mine, not missing one single expression.

“Yes,” I respond without breaking my gaze.

A breath escapes her as if she’s punched. “Do you expect me to like her?” she asks in a frail voice, bitterly.

“No, of course not. Although, it’d make my life a hell of a lot easier,” I say, though I don’t know if I like the idea. “But I understand your reticence.”

She snaps at my statement.

“Reticence! Good God, Christian! What if that was your own son-how would that make you feel?”

What? No one forced me to be with her! I didn’t have to stay... I made the choice. I blink at her confused.

“I didn’t have to stay with Elena,” I say frowning. “It way my own choice too, Anastasia,” I murmur. I even liked it at the time. 

Anastasia shakes her head sadly.

“Who’s Linc?” she asks.

“He’s her ex-husband,” I reply.

“Lincoln Timber?” 

“The very same,” I reply smirking.

“And who is Isaac?” 

“Isaac is Elena’s current submissive.”

Anastasia’s face takes the shape of someone who is horrified. She’s thinking that it’s another teen Elena got her claws into. 

“Isaac is in his mid-twenties, Anastasia. You know, a consenting adult,” I quickly add for her to get her mind out of the disgusted thoughts about Elena.

She turns puce, “he’s your age,” she says with realization. 

We are going nowhere with this. Clearly where Elena is concerned, all Anastasia sees is red, and a monster. “Look, Anastasia... Like I said to Elena earlier, she’s part of my past, but you are my future. Don’t let Elena come between us please! And frankly, I’m quite bored” maybe tired, “of this subject. I’m going to do some work,” I say standing up. Fucking visit from Elena dampened everyone’s mood. I gaze down at her, “Let it go, please,” I say softly. 

She stubbornly stares at me. This isn’t going to be the last of this topic, will it? Heaven forbid!

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Your new car has arrived a day earlier. It’s parked in the garage. Taylor has the key to it.” She lights up with the news.

“Can I drive it to work tomorrow?” she asks. 

“No,” I respond firmly. Not till Leila problem is resolved. 

“Why ever not?” she asks.

“You know why not Anastasia. That incidentally reminds me. From now on, if you’re going to leave your office for any reason, let me know. Sawyer was there watching you. It appears that I can’t trust you to look after yourself at all,” I say scowling. She’s on the receiving end of scrutiny for a change this evening. 

She stares back at me without blinking. “Clearly, I can’t trust either. You could have told me that Sawyer was watching me,” she mutters. 

“What? Do you want to fight about that topic too?” I snap at her. 

“I didn’t know we were fighting, Christian. I just thought we were communicating,” she mumbles irritably.

Christ! Give me strength!  She pushes all my buttons all at the same time! I close my eyes trying to rein in my temper. Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one... Breathe in...Breathe out. When I open my eyes again, Anastasia is watching me anxiously. (←The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson)

 

“I have to work,” I say quietly, and leave the room. I can’t take any more arguments tonight. 

Instead of having mind-blowing sex with my very hot, very loquacious, stubborn as a Missouri mule mutinous girlfriend, I am now forced to read Mr. Ipkins’ report on emerging markets. What an evening!

I walk into my office sulkily, and sit in my chair. I open the message from Ros and start going over the report. I’ve already gone over the report on China. Now, I read the one about Russia.

The report starts with top industries in Russia:

Oil and Gas Extraction

Support Activities for Mining

Metal Ore Mining

Electric Power Generation, Transmission and Distribution

Motor Vehicle Manufacturing

Machinery, Equipment and Supplies

Banking and Credit Intermediation

Rail Transportation

Pesticide, Fertilizer and Other Agricultural Chemical Manufacturing

Then it goes on listing the top companies in Russia. 

The summary finally goes on recapping everything that’s been said. “Russian economy is the world’s ninth largest by nominal GDP and sixty largest by purchasing power parity, and it’s the third largest nominal military budget. It is one of the world’s fastest growing major economies. The country has a market economy with its enormous natural resources, particularly in oil and natural gasses. The country has ended its ninth straight year of growth averaging 7%...”

My mind isn’t focusing, but I must. I have to clear the shit from this evening without going crazy. What better way to do it if not reading about the world’s emerging markets? I immerse myself for the next two hours reading about country after country. By the time I’m done going over the report, it’s passed midnight. My mind is clear of the clutter of the early evening, and I miss Anastasia. 

Suddenly I feel the urge to hold her in my arms, and kiss her. I turn my laptop off and make my way into my bedroom. Anastasia isn’t here. Oh shit! Where could she have gone? The first thing that comes to my mind is that she’s taken off, and left me. Of course she would! I’d never forgive myself for the way I left the room, telling her I’m bored of talking to her about Elena! The truth of the matter is I’m scared of talking about my past...scared to the core. There is a lot of shit I want to hide from Anastasia. Why would she want me if she uncovered them? Find out what a nasty fucking son-of-a-crack-whore I was! Why would she want to have anything to do with me? (←If You Go Away by Julio Iglesias) 

 

The clothes she had earlier are lying on the bed. I look around; check the closet. Nothing seems out of order. Oh shit! She probably got so mad, and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and took off! As I stand in the closet nervous as hell, I take my Blackberry out. With shaky fingers I press the speed dial #1. I hear “Your Love is King” playing in... my bedroom? I walk back into the bedroom, and retrieve her Blackberry from her purse. Yep, I’m calling her...her personal belongings including her purse and Blackberry are here. Dumbstruck, I disconnect my phone. 

Where could she have gone? If she left the purse and phone here, she couldn’t have gone far. Well, maybe not the phone. She left her phone here with me when she first left me. Maybe she just wants to be away from me tonight... Maybe she just got very mad after the whole shitty day, Elena showing up, and me scolding her over Elena inquisition. I run to see if she’s in her former room. The room is tidy as if no one has touched it. The bed is made and clear. White sheets and cover are crisp as the time Mrs. Jones laid them there. The room is devoid of anything of Anastasia. Let alone her presence, not even her scent is here. My heart is thumping. I run to the playroom, but the door isn’t open. The only other place she could go is the library and I make my way into the library nervously. If she isn’t there, I have to get Taylor and the security detail. My mind is going crazy! I just fucking remembered that the balcony door was open in my bedroom. 

I run back to the bedroom, and check the balcony door that is still gaping open like an ominous question. Fuck! Did Leila come and take Anastasia? How did I not notice that? My hands rush to my face, and I cup my face in my hands forcefully running them through my hair. But, Anastasia’s clothes are on the bed. Would Leila make her change her clothes to take her? That doesn’t make sense. My heart is thumping. I have one more place to check. Let me see the library. If she’s not there, then I’ll allow myself to panic. I run top speed to the library, which of course doesn’t take long.  I swing the door open, and close my eyes in utter and complete relief. The sight before me gives me peace along with contentment. Thank God! 

Anastasia is curled up in an overstuffed chair with Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier, one of the many first edition books I have. She’s wearing a pale pink satin long nightgown with a matching robe. She looks like an angel who fell asleep. Sexy, beguilingly innocent, and just lovely. All I want to do is to go and hold her in my arms. 

Scared of waking up, I walk near her. I slowly take the book out of her hands. My eyes drift into the page, and I look up at her as my breath catches with the line capturing my eyes, I sag into the nearest chair:

“I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say.”

Is this what this is? Fever of first love? Is it what’s driving me insanely jealous and crazy? As I sit in the opposite chair and watch Anastasia, all curled in on herself, innocent; I realize that she looks even younger, childish even now that she’s asleep. 

I flip the pages of the book slowly. Another line strikes me right in my core: “I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We, all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end.” Is my battle coming soon, and do I want to find out?

All I want to do at this moment is to take my woman back to our bed, and hold her till this feeling of loss subsides in me. I lean down, and trying not to jostle her, pick her up in my arms. She blinks her eyes open.

“Hey,” I murmur as she looks into my eyes. “You fell asleep here, and I couldn’t find you,” I say without being able to hide the anxiety in me. My face nuzzles into her hair, inhaling her brand of scent deep losing myself in her. She smiles and lifts her arms around my neck and holds onto me, her nose in my neck. We are two people inhaling each other, intoxicated with each other’s scents. I make my way to my bedroom, and lay Anastasia down on our bed after pulling the duvet cover open. She puts her head on the pillow. I lean down and kiss her on the forehead, “sleep, baby,” I whisper, and as I rub her hair, she slowly closes her eyes, and drifts back to sleep. 

I sit on the bed, just watching Anastasia, my heart fluttering. How peaceful she looks, how worried I was with the thought of her being gone. And the relief I felt finding her in the library. I don’t know what I would do without her. I just can’t exist! Not without being out of my mind. Just the few minutes took me to find her were hellish torment! How could I go through ... go through a lifetime? She just conquered me all the way; I’m hers. (←She’s Got A Way by Billy Joel) 

 

I’m wide awake with worry, and sleep won’t claim me. I close the balcony door, and make sure it’s tightly locked. I go to the closet and divest myself off my clothes, and just put my pajama bottoms on. I come back out and gaze at Anastasia. Why do we fight? Why do I fight with her? I hate fighting with her! It rips my heart up every time we go at it. I don’t like hurting her feelings, but then no one else presses my buttons like she does. In fact, the fights we have don’t only hurt my heart, but hurt every part of my body as if they have manifested themselves physically. When she goes toe to toe with me, I just want her to pull me back, and wrap me around. Because what she doesn’t know is that every time I’m with her, I have my heart in my hand for her...

The fear of losing her is always haunting me, and that’s why I fight with her against her wildly independent streaks as if she’s going to run away from me, run away with someone. And why shouldn’t she anyway? I’m so unworthy of being loved by the likes of her. 

I go out to the living room and find my way to my piano. The piano after all is my way of expressing all the emotions I’m not able, willing or capable of wording. It allows me to communicate in the subtlest truths about me by means of metal, wood, ivory and of course vibrating air when I put my fingers on it. It speaks for me when I’m unable to. It expresses the cries of my soul when my eyes can’t shed a single tear. 

I lower the piano’s lid so it doesn’t wake Anastasia up, and turn the small bubble of light on the piano, and sit on the bench and let my soul cry out all his lamentations, sorrows, worries, and fears.  (←Beethoven – Moonlight Sonata)  

I don’t know how long I’ve been playing one lamenting piece after another, but I feel her burning gaze on me. My chest involuntarily rises to accommodate my rushing breathing. I glance up and lock gazes with her still continuing to play, wanting her to hear my silent fears. She takes a step towards me, and another, then another. Slowly she makes her way to me, as I follow her with my watchful eyes. She reaches up to me, and I stop playing. 

“Why did you stop? That was a lovely piece,” she says in her soft pink satin nightgown, all alluring, feminine, and enticing. 

“Do you have any idea how desirable you look at the moment? I ask her in a soft voice.

“Come to bed,” she whispers. I hold my hand out to her, and she takes it, and the second we touch the short distance between us is too far, and too great for it to be bearable. I tug her hand and she falls into my lap. I wrap my arms around her, holding and nuzzling her neck right behind her ear. The usual jolt of electricity travels and courses through our connection, boiling my blood. 

“Why do we fight?” I finally whisper to her. My teeth graze her earlobe. (←Lacrimosa by Mozart) 

 

“Because we’re getting to know each other, Christian, and you’re stubborn and morose and moody and difficult,” she murmurs in a breathless tone while I nuzzle her neck. She shifts her head and arches her neck to allow better access for my lips making me smile. 

“My dear Miss Steele, I’m all those things. It’s such a wonder you put up with me,” I say as I nip her earlobe sending shivers down her spine making her moan with desire. “Is it always like this?” I sigh.

“I’ve not idea,” she murmurs.

“Me neither,” I say and I swiftly yank the sash of her robe and it falls open and what is between my hand and Anastasia’s body is just a very thin, very fragile piece of satin. Oh God! My hand moves up and down her body, caressing, possessing, touching, feeling, receiving. I reach up to her breast, and with the gentlest of touch, her nipple hardens, and strains against the thin satin of the night gown. My fingers trail down to her waist, and making their way to her hip, to her sex. 

“God, Anastasia, you feel so fine under this material; I can see everything,” I say gently tugging her pubic hair though the fabric, “even this,” I say in a whisper, and she gasps. My other hand fists at the nape of her hair. As I pull her head back, I kiss her fervently, hard, and my tongue forces its way into her mouth, darting, claiming, and caressing relentlessly, trying to fulfill a bottomless pit of need I have for her. She moans in my mouth, and her hands reach up to my face, caressing in response to my ministrations on her body and in her mouth. I pull her night gown up and my hand palms her round buttock caressing it, running my thumbnail up and down inside her thigh. 

I want to fuck her on top of my piano. The last time I wanted to do that, we got distracted by the contract, and then the spanking and she left me... I want nothing to distract us now. I will fuck her right on my piano, but first, I have to render her punishment! I will claim her once and for all here. I quickly rise up from my seat and lifting Anastasia I deposit her onto the piano lid. Her feet are situated atop the keys creating unmelodious sounds, and I don’t give a shit about it. Anastasia has literally put me through hell today, and she fought me in the evening. I can’t spank her, or hit her, but I can still punish her. Sex...sex is a great weapon of choice for punishment. My revenge will make her beg, sweetly torture her, yet, still away from her satisfaction... 

My fingers travel and skim up and down her legs finally parting her knees. I quickly grab her hands, and order Anastasia to lie back atop the piano. I let her go; as she lies down, I push her legs wider, and her toes skim the piano keys irregularly. I kiss Anastasia inside her knee and slowly but surely I travel down inside her thigh kissing, gently biting, sucking, and skimming with my teeth. I push the satin nightgown up slowly as my mouth travels up her thigh slowly. My lips finally reach up to the juncture where her thighs meet, her sex blooms open glistening with her arousal, inviting, calling me. I forget everything, and kiss her within the folds of her sex, blowing, and my tongue darts out, and starts circling her clitoris, trying to dig in, taste her deeper, claiming her. I automatically push her legs wider which blooms her sex fully under my mouth like the spring rose. My tongue fucks her every way it knows, darting in, circling, licking, fellating, and as she gets in the rhythm her hips lift up and meets my mouth, matching the rhythm of my tongue and my ever consuming mouth. Her hips circle, and I’m lost in her, with her.

“Oh my! Christian, please!” she begs.

“Oh, no, baby, not yet,” I say. I don’t want her to come yet. She can’t come. She has tortured me today, and I will punish her with this. “Anytime you argue with me, I’m going to take it out on your body somehow,” I say with my punishing kisses along her belly, making her needy, wanton but far from release. So close yet so far away. My hands skim and move expertly along her thighs, as I strategically stop and knead and skim and put her nerves on fire, making her want me to fuck her, release her from her  misery, yet, no release coming. My tongue dips into her navel as my fingers spears her sex, making her cry out “ah!” with the most desirous need. I circle both my tongue and my fingers in synchronization making her writhe beneath me. 

“Christian!” she cries out for me desperate for release. Her sex makes me desirous and frankly her moans are calling out to me to claim her, and I can brand her inside out, fuck her into submission. Argh! That side of me will never subside! I want her to submit me in some ways, and I love it when she resists, and fights, and I love it when she begs, I love it when I fuck her into obeying me like this! She owns me, and what I want is to own her back like this! She has already branded me in my soul. She is all I can think about. She is all that consumes me, and wherever I look, I see her. 

I groan, and stop my ministrations into her sex, and lift her off the keys, push and slide her down atop the piano. Quickly divesting of my pajama bottom, I follow her up there kneeling between her legs, my most favorite place on earth, as I roll a condom on my cock. 

I stare down at this goddess who owns me even when I try to fuck her into submission, and her conquest of me has been completed from within. Because I’m a man in love! Even the sight of her, the sound of her voice makes passion rise in me, turns me on, and all I want to do is to be with her, be in her, near her, and be consumed with anything about her. I lose sight of everything else. I feel like a starved man-starved for her affection. 

“I want you so badly,” I say, and sink into her slowly, and fuck her in a way reflecting my hunger for her as if fucking is going to be put on quota, and I want to get my ample share. But I also want to show her how much I love and desire her with my love making, and the yearning and desire in me. What starts out savoring, tasting, feeling, slow love making quickly become a possessing, and demanding fucking, and she wants it, meeting me thrust for thrust with her lifted up hips. As she cries out my name demanding more of me, I switch places with her placing her on top of me, as my cock is pushing into her from below as her hips are angulating over my length and it’s finally both of our undoing. As we reach our peak, orgasm shudders and courses through our connection, and like a big jolt it curls my toes, and arches my back as I push into her deep from below, spear her sex with three more harsh thrusts. I finally empty into her as her muscles around my cock, squeezes, and milks every last drop out of me. 

When the last bit of shudders run its course, we both lie on the piano, and somehow she is atop me, and carefully rest her check against me. As our breathing slows down, I know that I want her this close to me at all times. I gently, lovingly stroke her hair. She asks me the strangest post coital question in a sleepy tone.

“Do you drink tea or coffee in the evening?”

“What an odd question,” I say relaxed. 

“Well, I thought I could bring you tea in your office, but then I realized I didn’t know what you really would like to drink,” she explains making my heart melt. She’s thinking of me.

“I see. I usually drink water or wine in the evening Ana. But perhaps I should try tea,” I say knowing she likes tea, and maybe would like to keep me company. 

I realize that Anastasia is making effort to get to know me, and I hampered her efforts this evening. The thought makes me forlorn, mournful. My hand moves absently on her back stroking her. 

“We really know very little about each other,” she whispers reflecting what I have been thinking.

“I know,” I say in a tone mirroring my mood. She picks up on it, and sits up. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks. I don’t want to talk about it. I shake my head. Whatever the hell I am, and it is pretty fucked up, I know one truth, and that’s a pure and simple one: 

“I love you, Ana Steele,” I say with all my heart. (←Can’t Help Falling In Love sung by Julio Iglesias)  

*****

Fingers gently caressing my hair wake me up. I find myself wrapped around Anastasia like the victory flag, and I find my hand claiming her breast, while one leg over her, wrapping and holding her down. God! I’m drawn to her awake or asleep. 

I raise my eyes to her, and smile at her still half asleep.

“Good morning beautiful,” I say with a wide grin.

“Good morning beautiful yourself,” she smiles back at me. I lean and kiss her, retreating my legs and arms off her, I lean on my elbow and stare down at Anastasia who is still lying down.

“Did you sleep okay?” I ask. I know, I did. 

“If you are taking southbound I-5, please take a note that just south of Martin Luther King Jr Way – MP 157, there is a collision blocking the right lane. And the roadwork on the westbound I-90 will continue throughout the week and the left two lanes will remain closed. And in other news...” the news radio alarm continues in the background. 

“Yes, despite the interruption to my sleep last night,” Anastasia mock complains making me grin at her.

“Hmm. You can interrupt me like that anytime,” I say kissing her again. 

“What about you? Did you get to sleep well?” she asks me.

“I always sleep well with you Anastasia,” I respond, and that’s the God’s truth.

“No more nightmares then?” she probes further.

“No,” I say. Not with her. She’s my dream catcher. 

Her expression changes to one of worried. “What are your nightmares about?” she asks. Remembering the pimp, my face falls, and my smile is replaced with a frown.

“They’re flashbacks...to my early childhood, or so Doctor Flynn says. Some are quite vivid, and some are less so,” I say my gaze going away as if a memory is displayed in the eyes of my mind. Without thought, I caress her collarbone with a finger. 

“Do you wake up crying and screaming?” she asks in a halfhearted joke. 

I look at her quizzically. “No, Anastasia. I’ve never cried. As far as I can remember,” I say. Not over those memories anyway. But I don’t want to tell her how devastated I was and unable to help myself and cried over her. That will remain in my heart, and under the clauses of Taylor and Mrs. Jones’s NDAs. 

“Do you have any happy memories about your childhood?” she asks. I think about it. There was one about the crack whore. 

“I remember one time the crack whore baking. I remember the smell of it. It was a birthday cake I think...for me. And of course there’s Mia’s arrival with my mom and dad. My mom was very worried about how I would react to Mia but, the instant I met her, I completely adored her. My dad, Carrick told you that I didn’t speak for two years. It’s true. My first...very first word was Mia. Of course, I remember my first piano lesson. Miss Katie, my piano teacher was awesome. She had horses, too,” I smile remembering fondly.

“You told me that your mom saved you. How?” she asks. I think the answer to that is obvious. What would happen if Grace Trevelyan-Grey didn’t adopt me? I’d go in the direction of my crack whore mother. A dope addict, man-whore. 

“She adopted me,” I explain in the simplest terms. “When I first saw her, I really thought she was an angel in her white smock. And she was very gentle, calm, and soft when she examined me. I’ll never forget that. If she said no to adopting me, or if Carrick had said no...” I can’t even bring the rest of the thought into words. It’d be my destruction. And yet she and Carrick saved me. I don’t want to think about all the shit that could have happened to me early in the morning. “This is all a little too deep for this time of the morning,” I mutter.

“I’ve made a vow to get to know you better,” she says softly.

“Did you now Miss Steele? And here I thought you wanted to know whether I preferred coffee or tea,” I say smirking. “Anyway, I can think of one way for you to get to know me,” I say as I push my erection against her.

“Hmm.. I think I know you quite well enough that way, Mr. Grey,” she teases.

“I disagree. I don’t think I’ll ever get to know you well enough that way, Miss Steele,” I murmur into her ear. 

“There are of course a number of advantages to waking up next to you,” I say seductively. 

“Mr. Grey, I’m shocked. Don’t you have to get up?” she asks in a low, husky, and desirous voice. 

“Not this morning Miss Steele. There is only one place I want to be up right now and that is you,” I say with salacity. 

“Christian!” she gapes at me, completely shocked at my audacity. And I move on top of her grabbing her hands, and as I pull them atop her head, I stake my claim murmuring, “Oh, Miss Steele. Baby, what I’d like to do to you,” I whisper. It’s time for conquest. 

******

After shower and getting dressed, Anastasia and I make our way to the breakfast bar to Mrs. Jones’ marvelous cooking. I have omelet and bacon and Anastasia pancakes and bacon. 

“Christian, when do you think I’m going to meet your trainer Claude Bastille and put him through his paces?” she asks. Her inquiry makes me grin. I’m tiring her out, and she wants stamina. 

“Depends if you want to go to New York this weekend or not. Perhaps you’d like to see him early one morning this week. I’ll ask Andrea to check on his schedule and come back to you,” I say, though I know Anastasia is not a morning person.

“Andrea?” she asks sharply. Jealous are we, Miss Steele?

“She’s my PA,” I explain. Her face relaxes.

“Oh, okay. One of your many blondes,” she says in a teasing tone.

“She isn’t mine Anastasia; she just works for me. You are mine,” I reiterate. (←All I Want is You by U2) 

 

“I work for you, too,” she mutters acidulously. Oh, yes, baby, you sure do. I grin and reply, “So, you do,” and she can’t help but smile back at me. 

“Maybe Bastille can teach me to kickbox,” she says in a warning tone.

“Oh yeah? Daydreaming about your chances against me?” I ask in an amused tone. I’d love a challenge. 

“Bring it on Miss Steele,” I say happily. 

She notices the piano lid being up, and remarks on it.

“I only closed it last night to not to disturb you. I suppose it didn’t work out so well, but then again, I’m glad it didn’t,” I say remembering our christening the piano. Anastasia flushes all the way to the hairline, anxiously looking at Mrs. Jones who is just minding her own business in her usual professional demeanor. She turns around and places Anastasia’s lunch bag before her on the counter. 

“Is tuna okay for later, Ana?” she asks politely.

“Yes, Mrs. Jones, thank you!” Anastasia remarks smiling shyly. Mrs. Jones having completed her tasks leaves the kitchen to give us some privacy. 

Anastasia turns to me, and says, “Can I ask you something?”

Oh oh... whenever that question comes up, there is something that is unpleasant going through her mind. “Of course,” I say guarded.

“And you won’t be angry?” 

“Why? Is it about Elena?” I say, which is one topic I get angry about. 

“No, then,” I reply.

“I now have an additional question,” she says making a face.

“Oh?” that’s not good.

“Which is about her,” she says and I roll my eyes. Why must we spoil our beautiful morning with the thought of Elena? 

“What?” I say snapping.

“Why do you have to get so mad when I ask you about Elena?” she says confused.

“Are you honestly asking me this?” I say incredulous. She scowls at me. “I thought you were always honest with me Christian,” she states narrowing her eyes on me.

“I endeavor to be,” I reply her honestly. She scrutinizes me with her sharp gaze. “That’s a very evasive answer,” she says without blinking her eyes.

“Ana, I’m always honest with you. You’re one person I don’t want to play games with. Well, not those kinds of games anyway,” I say wanton. She just giggles. 

“What sort of games do you want to play?” she asks quickly, already hot. God, it’s so easy to distract her! She’s got one track mind. What have I created here?

“Miss Steele, how very easily you are distracted,” I state.

“You are just distracting on so many levels, Mr. Grey,” she giggles again. 

Damn woman! How she can get me elated with a simple girlish giggle. 

“That is my favorite sound in the whole world, Anastasia,” I say. “Okay, ask me your original question,” I coax her without further distraction. She frowns, trying to remember her question. 

“Yeah. Okay, you only saw your subs over the weekends?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I reply nervously. That’s not a good topic to be on knowing her jealousy meter runs higher, highest, and explosive. She grins. “So, you  had no sex during the week,” she states. 

I see what she is trying to decipher, making me laugh. “Is that where you were going with this?” I ask relieved. “Why do you think I work out every day?” Anastasia looks relieved, happy, and pleased with herself. 

“Miss Steele, you seem to look very pleased with yourself,” I say scrutinizing her face.

“That I am, Mr. Grey,” she replies smugly.

“You should be,” I grin. She knows that she’s a first in weekday sex with me, and I am equally pleased with this first as well. “Eat your breakfast, now,” I order. 

*****

When we get into the SUV to go to work, Taylor is in the driver’s seat to drop Anastasia off first, and we’ll go to GEH after. Sawyer is riding shogun, and he will go to work with Anastasia; but we agreed that he’s going to remain outside. I ask Anastasia something that has been bothering me, but I had forgotten with yesterday’s numerous issues. 

“Anastasia, didn’t you say that your roommate’s brother was arriving here today?” in a casual tone. I want Anastasia nowhere near him. He too has eyes for Anastasia. 

“Oh, Ethan, yes, he’s coming!” she gasps. “I completely forgot. Thank you for reminding me Christian. I’ll have to go back to the apartment,” she says. What? I didn’t remind her for his benefit! I can’t help it, and my face falls with worry. “What time?” I manage to ask.

“I actually am not sure. I don’t know what time he’s arriving.” 

“I don’t want you going anywhere on your own,” I say sternly, almost menacingly. Nowhere! 

“I know,” she says rolling her eyes at me. “Will Sawyer be spying...ahem,  I mean patrolling by the SIP today?” she asks, and Sawyer must be blushing because his ears turn red as my playroom.

“Yes!” I snap at her with cold, sharp eyes. She’d do well to remember that. It’s for her own benefit. 

“If I was driving the Saab, it would have been a lot easier,” she says stubbornly. 

“Anastasia, Sawyer will have a car, and depending on the time, he can drive you to your apartment,” I state.

“Okay, okay,” she mutters petulantly. “Ethan will probably call me during the day. I’ll inform you of the plans after that,” she replies. 

“Okay then. But nowhere on your own, understand?” I ask waving a lecturing finger at her. 

“Yes, dear,” she mutters sweetly making me smile, just a trace. “And perhaps you should only use your Blackberry. I’ll e-mail you on it. This will prevent my IT guy having a thoroughly interesting morning, okay?” I ask acerbically. 

“Yes, Christian,” she says acquiescing, but still rolling her eyes at me. I smirk at her reaction, and lean in to her. “Why Miss Steele...” I whisper lasciviously, “I do believe you are making my palm twitch.”

“Oh, Mr. Grey, you and your perpetually twitching palm. What are we going to do with that problem?” she remarks and makes me laugh. I feel my Blackberry vibrating. I take it out, and look at the caller ID. Damn it! It’s Elena! Can’t I get a break from her?

“What is it?” I say through gritted teeth as I answer the phone. 

“Christian, I’m really sorry to bother you early in the morning. But since you said you would talk to Welch, I called to tell you there is no need for it. It turns out, Isaac was creating a scene for us to act out,” she says relieved and hungry for her sub. 

My face relaxes, amused. “You’re kidding...”

“I’m not. There I was trying to explain him last night that I was being blackmailed about my lifestyle, and he blurted out that it was him who wrote that note for us to act out  a scene, and obviously it was not an actual blackmail. You can understand my relief and anger of course...” she says.

“For a scene...”

“Yes, go figure.”

“When did you say he told you this?” I say chuckling.

“Last night, after I came home.” 

“Listen, Christian. I was preoccupied about this, and I might have upset you last night. So, I want to apologize for my intrusion between you and Anastasia. It wasn’t my intent.” She says.

“No, don’t worry. You don’t need apologize. I’m only glad that there is a logical explanation. Although it did seem a ridiculously low amount of money...”

“Yes, that’s what made me think, and I had my suspicions.”

“I have no doubt you have something evil and creative planned for your revenge,” I say knowing how creative Elena can be with a whip or a rope. “Poor Isaac,” I say smiling. 

“Oh yes, and I’m looking forward to exacting my revenge,” she says calmly and that only means that she knows exactly how she’s going to get her dues. 

“Well, thank you again and sorry to bother you, Christian. “

“Good...Goodbye,” I say disconnecting the line. But when I look up, Anastasia is looking at me impassively, instantly making me wary.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“Do you really want to know?” I ask knowing how apprehensive she will get. She doesn’t answer; just shakes her head, her eyes instantly clouded with sadness. Her face falls and turning her head she looks out the window. No! no! no! I won’t let Elena’s call spoil our morning.

“Hey,” I say, reaching for her hand, taking it into my palm and kissing every single knuckle, and suck her little finger, hard. I then bite it softly, knowing it will send shivers down to her spine, and jolt her sex to attention all at the same time. She gasps involuntarily. Anastasia glances at Taylor and Sawyer in the front seat nervously, and then turns and looks at me finding me watching her with carnal desire. 

“Don’t sweat it Anastasia. Elena is in the past,” I say willing her to believe me. I kiss the center of her palm, and her face brightens up with a smile. 

*****

After we drop Anastasia to work, Taylor takes me to GEH. Andrea comes in with the day’s agenda and list of meetings. As soon as she leaves my office, I type an e-mail for Anastasia.

_________________________________________

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Sunrise

Date: June 14, 2011 09:22

To: Anastasia Steele

I absolutely love waking up to you in the morning.

Christian Grey

Completely & Utterly Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_________________________________________

After hitting send, I have this grin on my face. What a good way to start my morning. I start going through my business e-mails, and Andrea knocks on my door, and then enters with my coffee.

“Your coffee, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?” 

“That’s all for now Andrea,” I say dismissing her. She is still surprised to see the idiotic grin on my face, but then dons on her professional demeanor and scuttles out of my office, knowing better to leave me alone. 

I take a large sip of my coffee. As I start going through my messages, a new e-mail dings into my e-mail box. Seeing Anastasia’s name I quickly click it, and I lift my coffee mug with the other hand to take another mouthful of sip. 

_________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Sundown

Date: June 14, 2011 09:34

To: Christian Grey 

My Dear Completely & Utterly Smitten Mr. Grey,

I too love waking up to you. But I also love being in bed with you and in elevators and on pianos and billiard tables and boats and desks and showers and bathtubs and strange wooden crosses with shackles and four poster beds with red satin sheets and boathouses and finally childhood bedrooms.

Yours truly,

Sex Mad and Insatiable xx.

_________________________________________

I choke on my fucking coffee and spit a mouthful of it all over my keyboard! And I think I have a growing tent in front of me, right before my 10:00 a.m. meeting! I quickly type a response to Anastasia. 

_________________________________________

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Wet hardware

Date: June 14, 2011 09:36

To: Anastasia Steele

My Dear Sex Mad & Insatiable,

I’ve just spat coffee all over my keyboard. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.

I do however admire a woman who concentrates on geography.

Am I to presume that you just want me for my body?

Christian Grey

Completely & Utterly Shocked CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_________________________________________

I get to work and my mind is already preoccupied with Anastasia lying on various locations while... argh! How am I supposed to focus on work today? I can’t think...I can’t concentrate... E-mails! Business e-mails. I have meetings; I have to go over schematics. Breathe out. Easy Grey... Reserve fuck related thought outside the work hours. My hands run through my hair in frustration. Sexual frustration... And of course there won’t be any relief until tonight. So, you better get your frigging mind focusing on business, and not Miss Steele’s delectable ass... Focus Grey, focus!

I open up the designs the engineering team has sent me to examine them closely. A new email arrives as I go through the design and micro solar panels on the cell phone.

_________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Giggling and wet too

Date: June 14, 2011 09:41

To: Christian Grey 

My Dear Completely & Utterly Shocked Mr. Grey,

Always.

I have work to do now.

So, stop bothering me

Sex Mad and Insatiable xx.

_________________________________________

Baby, you set me on fire! I’m not a stove! I can’t just turn it off. Hot and cold doesn’t run together in my body. (←Hot N Cold by Kathy Perry) 

After I finish analyzing the schematics, I type her response.

_________________________________________

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Do I really have to?

Date: June 14, 2011 09:49

To: Anastasia Steele

My Dear Sex Mad & Insatiable,

Your wish is my command as ever.

I love that you’re giggling and wet.

Laters baby.

X

Christian Grey

Completely & Utterly Smitten, Shocked and Spellbound CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_________________________________________

At 10:00 a.m. exactly I make my way to the meeting with the engineering team to discuss the preliminary schematics before going over the product next week, and their improvements to the solar powered self-winding cell phone design. The meeting goes on till nearly the lunch time and it is pleasingly productive. As the meeting progresses and we are examining the designs, my Blackberry buzzes. As soon as I see Anastasia’s name on it, and answer is right away, anxious to hear her voice.

“Anastasia,” I say warmly, as if her name is litany on my lips. 

“Christian, Jack’s asked me to get his lunch,” she says without a preamble.

“Lazy fucking bastard,” I complain.

“So I’m going to get it. It might be handy if you just gave me Sawyer’s number; that way I don’t have to bother you,” she says.

“It’s no bother for me baby,” I say. I’d like to be in control. 

“Are you on your own?”

“No. There are six people staring at me at the moment wondering who the hell I’m talking to,” I explain nonchalantly. 

“Oh no... Really?” she gasps. 

“Yes, really,” I answer her, and turn to the engineering team to explain, “My girlfriend.” By the shocked looks some of them are giving me, they must have thought I was batting for the home team. 

“You know Christian, they probably all thought you were gay,” she says making me laugh.

“Yeah, probably,” I say, knowing they did by the way they look at me. 

“Uhm, yeah, I’d better go,” she says embarrassed.

“I’ll inform Sawyer,” I say laughing. “Have you heard from your friend?”

“Not yet, but of course you’ll be the first informed, Mr. Grey,” she says coyly.

“Good. Laters, baby.”

“Bye Christian,” she says.

*****

As soon as I hang up with Anastasia, I dial Sawyer’s number.

“Yes, Mr. Grey,” he answers the phone.

“Sawyer, Miss Steele is going to go out, wait for her outside please,” I ask him.

“Yes, sir,” he says, and I hang up to continue with my meeting. 

After the meeting, I go to a business lunch. Taylor drives me, and by 2:30 p.m. I’m back to GEH. 

I’m in my office and going over several business reports, my Blackberry alerts me of an incoming e-mail. I check the message and it’s from Anastasia.

_________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: visitors from sunny climates

Date: June 14, 2011 14:54

To: Christian Grey 

My Dear Completely & Utterly SS&S Mr. Grey,

Ethan is back and he’s coming here to get the keys to the apartment.

I would really like to make sure he’s settled in okay.
Why don’t you pick me up after work? We can go to the apartment and then we can ALL go out for a meal maybe?

My treat?

Yours,

Ana X

Still Sex Mad & Insatiable

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

_________________________________________

After finishing reading a short report, I e-mail Anastasia back. I noticed that she hasn’t used her Blackberry. God, this woman is completely stubborn! Follow my simple fucking rules Anastasia!

_________________________________________

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Do I really have to?

Date: June 14, 2011 15:04

To: Anastasia Steele

I approve of your plan, Anastasia, except for the part about you paying.

It’ll be my treat.

I’ll pick you up at 6:00.

X

PS: Why the hell aren’t you using your Blackberry!?!!

Christian Grey

Completely & Utterly Annoyed CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_________________________________________

Her reply doesn’t take long. It comes right when I’m reading the financial reports.

_________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: your bossiness

Date: June 14, 2011 15:10

To: Christian Grey 

Christian, don’t be so crusty and cross.

It’s all in code as you already see.

I’ll see you at six.

Ana X

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

_________________________________________

Fuck! Why can’t you listen? Use the Blackberry!

_________________________________________

From: Christian Grey

Subject: One Maddening Woman

Date: June 14, 2011 15:17

To: Anastasia Steele

You think I’m crusty and cross now!

I’ll give you and crusty and cross soon, and look forward to it.

X

Christian Grey

Completely & Utterly More Annoyed, but smiling for some unknown reason CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_________________________________________

I hit send, and go back to business, but she replies within a few minutes.

_________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Oh, promises, promises.

Date: June 14, 2011 15:22

To: Christian Grey 

Bring it on Mr. Grey. I too, look forward to it. ;D

Ana X

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

_________________________________________

If I keep replying she’s going to combust me here, and she’s still not using her Blackberry. I don’t want to enable her.

I hit the intercom.

“Yes, Mr. Grey?” answers Andrea. 

“Send Taylor in Andrea,” I order.

“Of course sir,” she replies, and Taylor is in within thirty seconds. 

“Mr. Grey,” he says waiting for his orders.

“Taylor, I need you to do a sweep at Anastasia’s apartment. We need to pick her up from work at six today, so she can let Miss Kavanagh’s brother into the apartment. Do the sweep, and we’ll go pick Miss Steele from SIP, then head to her apartment.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else, Mr. Grey?”

“That’ll be all Taylor,” I say dismissing. 

I have so much work to get through before a busy evening with Anastasia and her roommate’s brother whom I have no intention of leaving alone with my girlfriend.

About an hour later, I receive a text message from Taylor:

“The sweep is completed Mr. Grey. All is clean. On my way to GEH.”

Relieved, I go back to working. I work till about 5:30 at which time Taylor comes in ready to take me to pick Anastasia up. 

“Did you find any evidence that Leila had been to Anastasia’s apartment?”

“When we have done the sweet, there was no evidence that anyone has been in the apartment sir. We’ve also checked around the complex. All seemed quiet, and clear.”

“Great,” I reply and we are outside of SIP at around 5:55 p.m. I call Anastasia’s Blackberry. 

“Crusty and Cross here,” I greet her once she answers the phone. 

“Well, this is Sex Mad and Insatiable speaking. I take it you’re outside the building?” she asks.

“Indeed I am Miss Steele. I’m looking forward to seeing you,” I say with wanton desire in a soft seductive tone. 

“Ditto, Mr. Grey. I’ll be right out,” she says before hanging up. 

As soon as I see Anastasia leave the SIP building, I exit the SUV. She is just drinking me in. Her eyes linger on my gray pants a little too long. Her beaming smile elates my heart and I can’t wait to take her into my arms. I close the distance between us, and envelope her into my embrace, giving her a wet lingering kiss. 

“You look as captivating as you did this morning Miss Steele,” I say while still in her mouth. 

“So do you Mr. Grey,” she replies once we break our kiss.

“Alright, let’s go and get your friend,” I say smiling down at her. I take her hand, and let her into the SUV. We chat all the way through to her apartment. I enjoy telling her about my day. I remember telling her about the environmental breakthroughs the WSU’s Science Department in Vancouver has made. Those things are very important to me, because it’s all part of my feed the world plan. I remember getting Claude Bastille’s schedule before leaving from Andrea. I hand it to Anastasia.

“Before I forget, these are the time slots that Claude Bastille is free this week,” I explain. 

As Taylor pulls into a parking space in Anastasia’s apartment complex, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the caller ID, and it’s Ros. 

“Grey,” I answer the phone. 

“Mr. Grey, this is Ros,” she replies.

“Ros, what is it?” I ask. 

“It’s about the liquidation. I received the actual redundancy packages’ costs. It’s higher than the forecasted number.”

“How much higher?” I ask cautiously. 

Anastasia turns to me and mouths, “I’ll go and get Ethan. I’ll be two minutes,” holding up two fingers. I nod at her as I continue to discuss the new cost I’m to pay with Ros. Taylor gets out and opens the door for Anastasia. 

“Approximately 25% higher,” she says making me cringe. 

“Fuck Ros!” I say angry. “Who cooked up the preliminary numbers? A couple percent up or down is expected, but 25%?”

“Finance department has done the cost analysis,” she says.

“Well, they’re all fucking incompetent if they’re missing the numbers by 25%!” I yell into the phone.

“We can’t completely blame the finance, Christian!” she chides me. “There are always hidden costs in these. If the company has employees who have worked over 10 years, then those packages are going to cost considerably more than the others. And this company had quite a few long time employees, and some close to retirement age. So, the retirement packages combined with the long term employment is going to cost us up to 25% of the original forecast.”

I sigh. She goes on explaining the details of the hidden cost for the next several minutes. I notice that Anastasia isn’t back yet. But what alerts me is Taylor’s reaction.

“Mr. Grey!!” he yells, as he jumps out of the car full speed towards Anastasia’s door. Right on the second floor, walking towards Anastasia’s apartment’s door leisurely is Ethan Kavanagh. I drop my Blackberry in the car with the scene before me as all sorts of scary thoughts running through my head, and run towards Anastasia’s apartment. By the time I reach to Ethan Kavanagh, Taylor already tackled Ethan to the floor yanking the key out of his hand. 

“What the hell, man!” Ethan protests. “Get your fucking body off me!” 

“Taylor,” I say to ease up. He rights Ethan Kavanagh up, but his gaze is unwavering. 

“Ethan, have you been to the apartment?” I question him.

“No, I met a friend and we went out for a drink. I’m just getting back. What is this about?”

I look up at Taylor, worry and concern in my face is reflected on Taylor’s. Anastasia isn’t back, and she doesn’t have a key to her apartment. Someone has let her in, and that someone isn’t Ethan Kavanagh. There’s only one person who can let her in, and that’s Leila! Fuck! My world shatters with this thought.

“You stay here, and don’t come up!” I warn him sternly, as Taylor and I run up to Anastasia’s apartment. My heart lurches to my mouth. I kick Anastasia’s door open, and my heart falls to the ground with the sight before me. 

Leila is holding Anastasia at gunpoint. I die a thousand deaths with this sight! All my fears are coming true! I failed to protect Ana! If Leila has harmed her or gets to harm her because she has a grudge against me, I can never forgive myself. I’d die. I’m in agony already with the sight before me. (←Dreaming With a Broken Heart by John Mayer) 

 

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to look at Anastasia who is at the receiving at of the barrel of a gun. At this moment I’m seething with anger towards everyone, and top of the list is occupied by Leila. If anything happens to Anastasia, I can’t exist without her! She’s my sun! Leila has a fucking gun pointed at Anastasia! She looks disheveled and crazed. She holds her gun even tighter when she sees me standing at the door. Whatever she wants to do, she looks intent on accomplishing it. I can’t bear the thought! Oh God! This is my personal hell...my personal torment coming into realization! What I reminded myself to be just a nightmare is here before me playing out... I glance at Ana, scanning her body with my gaze for any injury or hurt from top of her head to her high heeled feet, and seeing no visible injury, relief washes over me. But it’s short lived, because here’s Leila still holding her gun up to Ana as if she’s finally going to get some recompense for whatever she thinks I’ve done to her. 

I swallow. If she’s going to shoot anyone, it will not be Anastasia. I can’t live in a universe where Anastasia didn’t exist. Losing Anastasia wouldn’t just cause heartbreak. I don’t even know why they call it heartbreak! Because it feels like part of my body and all of my soul is missing too!  My love, my heart lies bleeding with this sight! My heart is chaffed. I numb the pain, and the love I have for Anastasia deliberately, and intent on saving her from what I have brought to her doorsteps. I enter into the apartment; my gaze is fixed on Leila. I’m in charge, I’m her Dom.

*****

EROTION

Sweet for a little even to fear, and sweet,

O love, to lay down fear at love's fair feet;

Shall not some fiery memory of his breath

Lie sweet on lips that touch the lips of death?

Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free;

Love me no more, but love my love of thee.

Love where thou wilt, and live thy life; and I,

One thing I can, and one love cannot — die.

Pass from me; yet thine arms, thine eyes, thine hair,

Feed my desire and deaden my despair.

Yet once more ere time change us, ere my cheek

Whiten, ere hope be dumb or sorrow speak,

Yet once more ere thou hate me, one full kiss;

Keep other hours for others, save me this.

Yea, and I will not (if it please thee) weep,

Lest thou be sad; I will but sigh, and sleep.

Sweet, does death hurt? thou canst not do me wrong:

I shall not lack thee, as I loved thee, long.

Hast thou not given me above all that live

Joy, and a little sorrow shalt not give?

What even though fairer fingers of strange girls

Pass nestling through thy beautiful boy's curls

As mine did, or those curled lithe lips of thine

Meet theirs as these, all theirs come after mine;

---

133

And though I were not, though I be not, best,

I have loved and love thee more than all the rest.

O love, O lover, loose or hold me fast,

I had thee first, whoever have thee last;

Fairer or not, what need I know, what care?

To thy fair bud my blossom once seemed fair.

Why am I fair at all before thee, why

At all desired? seeing thou art fair, not I.

I shall be glad of thee, O fairest head,

Alive, alone, without thee, with thee, dead;

I shall remember while the light lives yet,

And in the night-time I shall not forget.

Though (as thou wilt) thou leave me ere life leave,

I will not, for thy love I will not, grieve;

Not as they use who love not more than I,

Who love not as I love thee though I die;

And though thy lips, once mine, be oftener prest

To many another brow and balmier breast,

And sweeter arms, or sweeter to thy mind,

Lull thee or lure, more fond thou wilt not find.

Algernon Charles Swinburne (1904)

Hi everyone! I hope you're all doing well. And, I'm dedicating this chapter to Linda who is getting married tomorrow. Congratulations Linda!!! I wish you a blissfully happy life with your new husband! I will post the next chapter on Monday ladies!