BOOK II - CHAPTER XIX - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

JOINT THERAPY

CHAPTER XIX

I make my way to the Audi SUV where Taylor is waiting. He rushes out and opens the back passenger door. As soon I get in, I dial Roach.

He answers the phone immediately. The anxiety exuding from his voice tells me that he thought I am about to liquidate the company.

“Roach here,” he says meekly.

“Grey.” I reply.

“How can I help you this morning, Mr. Grey?” anxious to get on my good side.

“I need status update on Hyde!” I command him.

“His last paycheck and severance pay are going to be mailed to him. But his employment has been permanently terminated, and he will not be getting any company reference, sir.”

“Good. His assistant, Miss Steele?” I ask.

“Do you want us to terminate her employment?”

“Of course not!” I hiss sharply.

“To tell you the truth sir, in the absence of Hyde, we may need her assistance, anyway. She knows all of Hyde’s authors as she’s been in contact with them, and she has written some rather impressive synopses of some prospective authors’ manuscripts Hyde was considering. It’d be to our benefit to keep her.”

“I agree,” I say.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?” he asks timidly.

“That’ll be all,” I say hanging up.

When we reach GEH, Taylor drives into the underground garage, and parks the SUV. As soon as he turns the vehicle off, he gets out, and opens my door. We make our way to the elevators. I hit the call button on the elevator and without looking at Taylor I say, “Thank you for your help last night, Taylor,” in an impassive voice.

Taylor, not being used to receiving a thanks or a compliment blushes to the hairline, and shifts where he’s standing; clearly uncomfortable. As he clears his throat he says, “just doin’ my job sir.” I nod for his benefit. Luckily elevator door dings open, and both of us saved by the bell, and the subject is closed.

As soon as I enter into my office, Andrea and jumpy Olivia get to their feet immediately, both chiming in unison “Good morning Mr. Grey!”

Andrea quickly grabs her iPad to go over the schedule, and is holding a stack of work documents for me. But I hold my hand up to her to halt her. “I’ll call you when I need you,” I say impassively. She stops in her tracks, and her foot hanging in the air to go forward is retracted and taken back. I notice fraction of a smile playing on Taylor’s lips.

“How about your coffee, sir?”

“Bring it in,” I say and walk into my office without waiting her response. I fire up my computer as I sit in my chair. Taylor takes his usual place in my office. As I open my e-mail application my Blackberry rings. I fish my Blackberry out of my pocket and check the caller ID. It’s Anastasia. Remembering the mood I left her with at SIP, I answer the phone with concern:

“Anastasia, are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m given Jack Hyde’s job to be in charge for the time being,” she says in one breath. Huh... I expected Roach to keep Anastasia at SIP, but, I didn’t expect Anastasia to get a temporary promotion.

“You must be joking,” I say completely surprised. But what Anastasia asks me next stuns me more.

“Did you have anything to do with my new promotion?” she questions me sharply.

“No, nothing at all. I don’t want to be mean or anything, but you’ve only been at SIP a week or so.” I had not expected Roach to hand her Hyde position even temporarily.

“Yes, that’s what’s confusing. Incidentally, I’m told that Jack Hyde really rated me,” she says making all my muscles go rigid. Of course he rated her. He was ready to dive into her panties up until last night to give her the perfect score! Hyde’s name changes my demeanor to arctic levels; I could freeze the coffee Andrea’s bringing me in.

“Did he now?” I mutter in a glacial tone. But, I don’t want fucker’s name clouding our mood today. This is something to celebrate. I’m first to admit that Anastasia is a talented girl. I nod at Andrea, and she walks out quickly.

“Well baby, if they think you can do the job, I’m quite sure you are capable of doing it. Congratulations! How would you like to go to a celebratory dinner after we’ve seen Flynn?”

“Hmm...” she says mulling over what I had just proposed us to do. “Are you absolutely sure this isn’t your doing?” she asks suspiciously. Her suspicion makes me upset immediately. I’m always truthful to her. I told her I didn’t have anything to do with her promotion. Why does she question my sincerity? I count in my head to ward off my temper. Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... Two... One... Fuck! Still fuming!

“Do you doubt me Anastasia?” I hiss angrily. “It’s maddening that you do!”  

She pauses for a second over the phone, and finally chastised, apologizes. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Christian,” she breathes softly. Her response softens my heart.

“Anastasia...” I coax softly. “If you need anything, I’m here for you. You let me know please. And, Ana?”

“What?” she asks.

“Use your Blackberry at all times,” I remind her in a brusque tone.

She sighs, and answers. “Yes, Christian.”

Finally Anastasia is agreeing to something without any qualms about it. And actually she sounds obedient. I ravel in this momentary solitude. I’ll take whatever I get from my untrusting girlfriend. Just with those two frigging simple words she melts my heart.

“I mean it baby... If you need me, I’m here for you.”

“I know Christian. Thank you. I love you,” she says and all is right in my world. I grin like an idiot, possibly making Taylor curious of what she said.

“I love you too baby,” I reply softly.

“I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Laters, baby,” I say and we both hang up.

“Taylor!”

“Yes, sir,” he replies coming to my desk.

“What was the name of that florist we used?”

“I’m sorry sir, I forgot. Maybe Mrs. Jones might remember. I can ask her if you like,” he says.

“No, I’ll call her,” I say as I dial Mrs. Jones’ cell phone.

The phone dials and Mrs. Jones answers in the second ring.

“Yes Mr. Grey,” she answers in her ever present tone. Taylor can hear her voice, and I notice that his features soften.

“Mrs. Jones, do you happen to remember the name of the florist we’ve used last time?” She knows what I’m talking about of course.

“Yes, sir. It was called ‘The Primary Colors’.”

“Thank you. I have another question,” I say pausing a little shyly. I clear my throat.

“Yes, Mr. Grey,” she replies in her soft tone.

“Last time you told me about the significance of white roses. Is there any other flower that means appreciation, love, and gratitude?”

“Of course sir. Generally all roses are a symbol for love and gratitude. But pink roses sir, are the most prevalent among the old garden roses, and they are the most strongly associated with these sentiments. They also have the connotation of grace and elegance, sweetness, as well as poetic romance.”

“Wow! I had no idea! Have you ever worked for a florist Mrs. Jones?” I ask.

She gives a small laugh. “No, sir, but, I’m a woman, and I have tended homes for some time now. Those are things most careful woman would pay attention to. But I must remind you the significance of the shades of pink, sir. Different shades of pink carry their own significance. For instance sir, if you were to send the roses to someone you want to thank for something they’ve done for you, then it would better to send dark pink because they are the traditional way of sending a message of thanks as they are symbolic of gratitude and appreciation.”

“Just a second, let me write this down,” I say and fish for a pen. Taylor extends me his, and I nod. “Go on Mrs. Jones,” I instruct her to continue.

“Of course, sir. However, dark pink roses aren’t the best choice to send for more intimate purposes. If the message you wish to convey is gentleness and admiration, then pale pink would be the best choice. They also convey elegance and refinement and communicate thanks and admiration.”

“Pale pink,” I mutter, and underline it.

“If you wish to use pale pink sir, I would recommend you to have them mix the bouquet with white roses; then the meaning you wish to convey cannot be confused with anything else.”

“Mrs. Jones, you’re a genius!” I say as I hang up, and I notice that Taylor gets a barely noticeable smug look on his face.

We find the phone number for The Primary Colors online then I call the florist next.

“Primary Colors Florist. This is Janice. How may I help you?”

I put in my order with the florist. The note I have them attach reads:

Congratulations Miss Steele...You’ve done it all on your own!

With no help from your overfriendly, neighborhood megalomaniac CEO

With Love,

Christian

I have it scheduled to be delivered before 3:30 p.m. I’m shaking my legs with nervousness to hear her reaction. Taylor raises an eyebrow, but quickly his face smooth over as if getting rid of the wrinkles on a sheet.

I press the intercom.

“Yes, Mr. Grey,” replies Andrea.

“Get Barney in here, Andrea!” I order. When she hears the urgency in my voice, she doubles her efforts.

“Right away, sir.”

Five minutes later, there’s a knock at my door. Barney walks in with his MacBook Air tucked under his arm. He clumsily walks into my office, a wire hanging down from one arm. He’s wearing dark color blue jeans with suspenders. His white shirt’s top two buttons are open displaying part of his hairless chest; his shirt sleeves are folded at least three times on one side, and maybe twice on the other side. He’s also wearing black boots; the kind usually worn by cops, but they’re only tied at the ankle and he seemed to have tucked his jeans inside it; meanwhile the flaps of his boots are blooming like a spring flower over the cuffs of his jeans. I’m surprised that he hasn’t tripped over them. 

One side of his suspenders is hanging down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. Barney is just about two years older than I am. His bright blue eyes are obscured with his dark rimless glasses. His black hair is shaggy and hanging over the collar of his white shirt. The way he’s looking right now is giving the air of a college student who went to bed with his clothes on after an all-night study, and woke up late and ran to school to make it on time without tidying himself up. But this is Barney’s traditional look. I think he’s going for geek chic. Whatever floats his boat... I don’t generally care how Barney dresses up. He’s a genius when it comes to computers.

He comes before my desk, pushes his glasses back further up on his nose.

“Barney, you seem to have a wire hanging down from your arm,” I say.

“Yes. I was in the middle of inspecting the servers. It’s for static discharge, sir.”

“How did the installation of the new fire suppression system go?”

“Very well, sir. I’ve inspected everything.”

“Give me the lowdown on the new system, and e-mail me the reports,” I say to Barney.

“Sir, you know I was always opposed to having any sort of water sprinkler system near our servers which was what we had, though not in the server room, they were in close proximity. Because they can cause catastrophic damages in the computer environment and we wouldn’t be able to recover anything. But, you sir, and as a policy GEH is for environmentally friendly suppression systems, and frankly the old ones weren’t doing it, and they weren’t environmentally friendly. On top of that sir, they were due for an update, and unfortunately the older systems and even subsequent technologies are just too expensive to purchase and install,” he says. I nod but counter him.

“But this one isn’t cheap either. In fact it’s much more expensive than the older system we had.”

“True, but I guarantee you that it’ll be worth its weight in gold, should there be an emergency sir. We’ll be able to recover most everything.”

“What kind of gas is it using?”

“This is called Inergen. It has inert gases in it, sir. About 52% nitrogen, 40% argon and 8% carbon dioxide.”

“Do you have the price sheet with you?” I ask and he hands me a folder. I open it and whistle.

“I know I approved it, but this is still quite costly. What special benefits do you see in this type?” I ask doubting its monumental benefits.

“The only back draw is the large space for the storage tanks, but there is no clean up in case of an emergency. And that’s very crucial sir, because we do have a very expensive Data Storage System and Servers which run the entire company. Loss of it would be...” he shakes his head, “devastating to the company, to say the least. What this particular system does is that it reduces the level of oxygen during fires, it doesn’t create a fog, and breathable during discharge. Of course it’s very effective, sir.”

I scrutinize the paper.

“Barney, this says that after discharge the pressure must be relieved to avoid damage to the enclosure. What if someone is in the server room?”

“Our system is designed in a way that a tech, or myself can enter the server room only for a limited time. Within that time, the computer system knows to have a certain pressure and a certain percentage of oxygen in the room. Once we leave, the system recognizes that there is no one in the room, and pressure and the level of oxygen is changed. We have pressure resistant enclosures, and they’re designed exactly for this purpose. On top of that, this particular brand’s Global Warming Potential is zero, and so is the Ozone Depletion Potential.” He says pushing his glasses up onto his nose for a third time. “It’s quite safe for the environment and also the damage if any would be minimal to the system increasing the effectiveness to the highest level possible, sir,” he said proudly as if talking about his future son Barney, Jr.

Barney somehow always amuses Taylor. He couldn’t hide his grin when he saw Barney. He watches Barney’s animated gestures.

“Alright then. Next thing on the agenda... Tell me about Hyde’s computer. Have you discovered anything else on the SIP server?”

Barney clears his throat, and opens up his MacBook Air placing it on my desk as if he’s asked permission, but I don’t say anything. He drags a chair loudly, and sits before his laptop, and for some odd reason Taylor is trying to suppress a grin by turning his head elsewhere. Barney sits his 5’10” frame into the chair, pushes his dark rimless glasses once again, and leans into the laptop if it holds the secrets of the universe.

“What are you doing?” I ask impassively.

“Logging into the SIP server, sir,” he says.

“Why?”

“Well it’s easier to show sir then try to explain,” he says leaning into the small screen pushing his annoying glasses once again.

“This is the map of SIP server, network map and its mail server,” he says.

“Is this the way it actually looks like?” I ask amazed.

“No,” he says shyly. “I created this to make it more visual, sir.”

Pointing to a cluster image he says, “You see we have the internet here.” Then he points to a round image. “This is the router to the SIP, and here we have the Firewall,” he says indicating an image looking like a brick wall. “Then we move to the Switch here,” he says pointing to the end of the line moving with arrows. That opens up to the WAN,” he says. Then dumbs it down for my benefit.

“That’s Wide Area Network, sir,” he says, and I nod. “Here’s the interesting thing,” he says excitedly. I’ve never seen a man get as excited about computers as another would get about sex. He has a gleam in his eyes as he speaks. “SIP ought to have about four different servers: Proxy, Web, FTP, and Mail. Then it should have another switch going into the LAN, or as more commonly known, the Local Area Network. Then we have the Data Base, another Firewall then moving onto Client PCs which are the computers that are used in the company.”

“I’m still not seeing what’s interesting here,” I say looking into the map.

Then, Barney moves his mouse, and clicks another image.

“Sir, that’s how it ought to look. But the way it looks is this...” he says pointing to another image slide.

“You see here, under the Client PCs, there are several computers with each one marked with the user’s name.” Jack Hyde’s grab my attention.

Then, Barney points to Hyde’s PC and says, “Mr. Hyde’s client PC bypasses the firewall, and goes into the FTP and the Mail Server as well as the Data Base. He also has direct access into the client PC titled as A. Steele.” My head snaps up immediately to look at Barney.

“What? How?” is all I can ask.

“Backdoor,” he says simply.

“What is it? A virus, a software, a wire, a connection? What?” I ask impatiently.

“Backdoor is sir, a means of access to a computer program that bypasses security mechanisms. Generally, a programmer sometimes may install a backdoor so that a particular program can be accessed for troubleshooting or for other purposes. But this one isn’t installed for that purpose. Attackers use backdoors to exploit.”

“I don’t get it. I would have thought that Hyde had access to all of the company’s servers. Why create this?”

“Well sir, when you access through legitimate means, you leave a footprint. People like me would find out who has been where, and what changes they’ve made if any, and when. Think of this way sir. You go to a well-protected building with top of the line security. You know, the works; the one that scans bio signs and even checks your background. Imagine someone who doesn’t have time to go through all that to get in and out every time. He might just create a back exit-maybe just to step out for a smoke. Well, this is what we’re seeing here with Hyde’s, and it’s a good one too, and the only one that bypasses all of that security even making it available for him to be able to access from a remote PC.” Heat shoots up to my face, and I feel anger is coming in waves.

“Tell me you blocked all his entry from outside, or any access into the servers!” I hiss through my teeth.

“Of course sir,” he says smugly. “And there is another thing sir. Mr. Hyde should not have had access to the e-mail server. Otherwise every employee could just peek in and retrieve or see the contents of everyone else’s e-mail. Since Miss Steele works under him, he may have had a previously granted access. But nonetheless, there is a postmaster who is in charge of the e-mail accounts. Mr. Hyde clearly isn’t it. So, I worked through a good deal of the night to fix this problem,” he says. So, he did stay up and possibly slept in his clothes. That would explain his, sort of disheveled appearance, but then again, this is his appearance whether he stayed up all night or not. Barney, like Ros, or Taylor, or Andrea has been one of my best finds as far as quality employee is concerned who would meet my demands and go the extra mile to achieve the required task. I found him just as he graduated with his Masters in Computer Science finishing it in one year. By the time he was 21, he had a Master’s degree in Computer Science, from UCSD and moved back to Seattle to be near his family.

“Thank you Barney,” I say genuinely. He looks up at me, and blinks a few times, pushes his glasses back. I have to buy him a pair of new glasses for Christmas or something. I make a mental note of that. Unused to hearing me thanking him for something he’s done, for a minute he’s speechless.

“Uhm, yes, not a problem, sir,” he says not knowing how to take the compliment. Taylor’s eyes I notice go wide for a second, but he too is impassive in the next minute.

“That’d be all Barney. Send Andrea in on your way out,” I say.

“Of course, sir,” he say closing his MacBook Air, and as he’s walking out, I notice that he must have made an attempt to tuck his shirt in on the back of his pants, but Andrea must have lit a fire under him, so he must have hurried into my office. I see his checkered boxers peeking as his jeans slung a little lower while the suspender is trying to hold the pants up since his non-existing ass isn’t doing the job. That’s what Taylor must have found amusing a little earlier. I see the same humor cross through his face again.

As Barney makes his way out of my office, my office door is left cracked open and I hear Barney talking to Andrea on his way out.

“Frosty! Boss wants you in there!” he says, his voice is drifting outside the office as he is walking away. Frosty? Not a term of endearment.

Andrea’s muttering can be heard, “Geek!” and the next thing I hear is her heels clicking and she enters into my office with her iPad and files in her arms. Taylor shifts his gaze to some corner in the room to hide his grin.

“Are you ready to go over your schedule, sir?” she asks in her usual professional demeanor.

“In a minute. First I want you to make an appointment for me to see a property this evening.”

“Certainly, sir. Do you happen to know where this business is located? Or whom shall I contact?”

“It’s not a business. It’s a home,” I say nonchalantly, and both Taylor’s and Andrea’s head shot up looking at me. This is the first time I manage to shock them both at the same time.

*****

The work day flows busily. I inspect the new fire suppression system for the servers along with Ros. Taylor drives both Ros and I to the upscale French restaurant for our business lunch meeting. It is an informal setting for a potential business acquisition. I’m testing the waters, and see what they can offer. The company is eager. The price seems to be right. But I always analyze the numbers. Ros is very shrewd when it comes to business. She can make grown men; with years of business experience shake in their boots with her know how. The old man is willing to sell the company. He’s not willing to let the junior take over. Not that junior is the type to run a company. But the company has a board of directors. Some are more than eager to have the company to be absorbed by GEH. They think their stock is going to go up overnight. I don’t do partners; and I certainly don’t do stocks within my company. They didn’t even do their homework before they came to meet me. The only person I’d rather be doing business with is the old man. Not his pathetic son and not his useless board. They’re all trying to butter me up to get a deal they want. Ros is disgusted by the looks of it, and I’m none too pleased either.

Doing business is as easy as fucking for me. I’m good at both. But I’m the one who makes the choice and I like to always remain in control; not the other way around. The board and the son look like eager hyenas, and they old man is like an aged lion; these fuckers were ready to take him down any second. But the good thing was, the old man had the lion’s share of the stock interest, and he controls the majority. That was the only smart thing he did with his company. But the rest of the group is almost licking the chops, so eager. Their sales are down, cost is up, employees are inefficient, and no one seems to care what it took this man to build his company and carry on for nearly forty years. I’ll take my time with this, and when the time is right, I’ll buy it, and get rid of the useless board, either fix it, or liquidate it. I need to crunch the numbers first.

On the way back from the two hour meeting, I turn to Ros and ask, “What’s your take on the old man, the son, and the board?” I say with distaste when I think about the last two.

“I wouldn’t mind doing business with the old man,” she says immediately. “His son however is useless, womanizer by the way he was trying to make his move on me, and it’s sad that such a man bred out of the decent old man,” she says reflecting what I felt exactly.

“What to say about the board...” she says as if she’s in deep contemplation. “Honestly Mr. Grey, I didn’t know where your ass ended, and their lips began, by the way they were getting in line to kiss your rear end,” she says and making me laugh out loud. “But among the whole lot, the only one worth doing business with is the old man. The rest are vultures.”

When my own instincts are aligned with Ros’, I know my decisions are confirmed. We’ll only deal with the old man, and ditch the worthless fucking hyenas.  

As Taylor pull into the GEH parking lot, my Blackberry buzzes, and the sender puts a bit smile on my face. Ros eyes me curiously. I say nothing. Her eyes seek Taylor’s on the rearview mirror and he stares back at her impassively.

________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Megalomaniac...

Date: June 16, 2011 15:42

To: Christian Grey

...is my favorite type of maniac. Thank you for the beautiful roses. They’ve arrived in a giant wicker basket immediately making me think of picnics and blankets.

X

________________________________________

I wait to go up in my office to write a response, away from Ros’ scrutinizing eyes, not that I care about it. But I don’t want anyone’s nose where they don’t belong. 

________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: fresh air
Date: June 16, 2011 15:54
To: Anastasia Steele

Favorite kind of maniac? I’m quite sure that Dr. Flynn may have something to say about this.

Do you want to go on a picnic, Anastasia?   We could indeed have a lot of fun in the great outdoors.

How’s your day going so far baby?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

________________________________________

There are a number of new activities I’ve recently added to my outdoor favorites, and they all include Anastasia.

________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: hectic day
Date: June 16, 2011 15:59
To: Christian Grey

My day has been so busy, it’s just flown by. I didn’t even have a spare minute to myself to think about anything other than just work. I feel like I can do this! I’ll tell you more about it when I get home.

About the outdoors...it sounds very interesting.

I love you.

A x

PS: Don’t worry about Flynn.

________________________________________

It’s hard not to worry... I’m a man who always likes to be in control. Putting together two people I hardly have any control over to discuss something about me, who both know how fucked up I am worries me especially if the result of their conversation can alter my life irrevocably.

________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: I’ll try...
Date: June 16, 2011 16:08
To: Anastasia Steele

...not to worry.

Laters, baby.

X

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
________________________________________

Taylor picks up his phone to answer a text which must have just came.

“Mr. Grey, Bastille is at the gym downstairs.”

“Great!” I say. “We’ll go down in a minute. Let me wrap up here.”

It’s been a busy day, and I need to work this approaching stress out of my system. Taylor and I take the elevators down to the gym. Quickly change in the locker room and go to meet Bastille. He’s already warmed up, and after I do my warm ups and we start practicing MMA with Bastille. Fifteen minutes into the exercise, I catch Bastille in his open guard. I grasp his left calf by snaking my right arm around it as close to his tendon as possible. He’s completely shocked that I could do this to him this early in the game. With my right forearm I begin to press into the Achilles tendon.

Out of breath, and fighting against a struggling Bastille, I slide my left knee over his right thigh and push down on his chest with my left hand so he wouldn’t get up. Then I fall backwards on my left side as I simultaneously throw my right leg over Bastille’s. I firmly press my right foot against his body and slide my left leg through the opening of his legs. Bastille is quite surprised of this much progress. But I relentlessly move on. I then bring both my feet tightly together against Bastille’s body and press with them. My right forearm digs hard into his tendon as I grasp of my own left wrist while arching backwards and pressing my hips forward. By quickly looking over my shoulder which is a crucial move allowing me to use full force of my muscles and squeezing my knees together I sink the lock in strongly. I finally have him on a submission hold using one of the Compression Locks techniques, the Achilles Lock.

After struggling out of my hold and pain starts registering, Bastille taps the floor and I release him of the hold.

The rest of the practice goes on without yielding to one another as much, but Bastille tries to even the score by swinging an unexpected angle kick. He uses the Muay Thai technique. This actually is a very effective technique because if he managed to hit me, it would have felt like I’ve been hit with a baseball bat at best, and in the worst case of the scenario, he could have knocked me out. But I manage to deflect his attack and counter it with a low kick targeting his thigh just about his knee joint and weaken his leg making him land on his ass on the floor and getting my score to two. At the end of a little over an hour work out, I only manage to dull the edges of my nervousness about the approaching appointment with Flynn.

Having taken a quick shower, I get in my clothes, and Taylor drives me to Escala. Anastasia will be driving herself today. I’m a little nervous about it, since her driving easily gets distracted, by something as simple as a radio.

I make my way up to the penthouse as Taylor is parking the SUV. After going into the apartment, I make my way to my bedroom. I take my work clothes off and slip into my low hanging jeans and a white t-shirt. I go to the kitchen and pour myself some white wine. I take a sip of the wine, and I taste the chilled crispiness as it goes down smoothly. I close my eyes and savor the taste for a second. As I take another sip, I feel my Blackberry vibrating. I fish it out of my jean’s pocket, and look at the caller. It’s Ros.

“Grey,” I answer the phone.

“Mr. Grey, Ros. Have you talked to Barney today?”

“I have.” She expects me to elaborate.

“What do you need to know?”

“Since we have acquired the SIP,” she starts saying, and she gets my full attention.

“I wanted to know if we were going to keep it, or sell it later.”

“I have every intention of keeping it,” I say tersely.

“Good, because if that’s the case, I was thinking that we could save us money if we merged their network system into ours. Instead of keeping two separate IT departments, it’d be wiser, and not to mention cost effective to absorb it into ours. Since we’ve invested millions of Dollars into the new IT system, I think this would be beneficial for the GEH,” she says.

“True, but I still like to keep it as a separate entity. Merging it and moving it over might incur unexpected costs. I think Barney can assess this better, and can come up with the numbers for us for the long and short term,” I say. Considering how Anastasia is, if she thinks she no longer wants to work for the SIP, I can sell it. But my long term plans include giving the SIP to Anastasia down the road. I drain the remainder of the wine in my glass, and walk to the floor to ceiling windows gazing outside, watching the city skyline and dimming sun.

“I spoke to Barney, and he said that their system isn’t very complicated, and even outdated. We would have to update the system, and that incurs a rather large amount of cost, though obviously not as much as we’ve just spent for ours. Barney was saying that absorbing SIP’s system into ours with an easy to separate unit here, would both allow us easy access to it, and fix, should we need to upkeep anything.”

“That actually is not a bad idea,” I say knowing it will give me a little more leverage and access to Anastasia and I can also protect her better should she get another boss who is overfriendly like the previous one. I feel a pull and crackling electricity getting my nerves stand on attention right then. I feel her gaze before I see her face. I immediately turn, and all is right in my world once again because Anastasia’s here. I can’t help but smile at her as wide as I can after seeing her beautiful face. My mind has left the conversation I was having with Ros.

“I was just fiddling with the numbers, and I asked Barney some of the cost, I think this would make...” she says but I don’t let her finish her sentence.

“Ros, that’s wonderful. Tell Barney we’ll go from there...”

“From where Christian?” she asks confused.

“Good bye.”

“What? Wait!” she says and I hang up.

I’m too anxious to be with Anastasia to think of any servers at this moment. It’s not that pressing. I deposit my Blackberry back into my pocket and saunter over to Anastasia. She’s as fresh and crisp as she was this morning. I feel the magnetic pull towards her. Like she’s the sun, and I’m the planet.

“Good evening, Anastasia,” I murmur and lean down to kiss her. My arms wrap around her body, and I envelope her. “Congratulations on your promotion, baby,” I whisper, nibbling her ear. She inhales my scent her head digging into my chest.

“You had a shower,” she murmurs.

“I’ve just had a workout with Bastille,” I explain.

“Oh, I see,” she says raveling in my scent.

“It was great. I’ve managed to knock him on his ass twice,” I say grinning. I can brag a little to my girlfriend; after all I don’t get to knock him over that often. It’s usually the other way around.

She smiles back at me.

“So, doesn’t that happen often?”

“No, not really. And when it does happen, it’s quite satisfying. Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head in the negative and her face falls. I grow concerned immediately.

“What?” I ask frowning. What’s the matter?

“It’s just that I’m nervous about Dr. Flynn,” she says, and her words reflect what I have been feeling all day.

“I’m nervous too,” I confess. “But, tell me about your day,” I say trying to distract us both from the nerves.

“Oh! Christian, I was so nervous this morning. As soon as I got to the office, I found a note telling me to go to Elizabeth’s office immediately. I thought with Jack being gone, she was gonna tell me they no longer needed me. Then I go into her office, and we’re just staring at each other. My heart is at my throat, so she finally says, she has some sad news, and that Jack has left the company rather suddenly, as if he did that out of the goodness of his heart,” she says shuddering. I nod, encouraging her to go on.

“Then she tells me that his departure created a vacancy and they would like me to fill it for the time being until there is a replacement. I got nervous of course. I wasn’t sure if I could do the job. Her reasoning was that Jack championed my skills and apparently he had high hopes for me,” she says grimacing. With that, my jaw clenches, my lips go into a taut line, and my eyes darken. I should have beaten that fucker more last night!

“Well, we know what his high hopes were about!” I say bitterly.

“Yes, well, you saved the day,” she says smiling, and wrapping her arms around me, easing the tension. I kiss the top of her head, and ask her what else had happened.

“Anyway, because I had been in touch with Jack’s key authors and that they took notice of the chapter notes I’ve written, they think I’m capable of doing the job. And the rest of the day went on with one meeting and another,” she says releasing me.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I was supposed to have lunch with Mia today,” she says. I didn’t know that. How come she never mentioned that before?

I raise an inquisitive eyebrow and say, “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“I know, I totally forgot. But I couldn’t go because of the meeting, and Ethan Kavanagh took her out to lunch instead,” she says in one quick breath.

My sister with the Kavanagh fellow? What was he doing coming to Anastasia’s work anyway? Is it an attempt to move in on her? I wouldn’t be surprised after what happened in Anastasia’s apartment.

“I see,” I say flatly.

Anastasia sees my darkening gaze, and nervously bites her lip. The dark energy is entwined with the desire I feel for her now.

“Stop biting your lip, Anastasia.”

She quickly stops biting and says she’s going to freshen up before we leave for Flynn’s office, and quickly makes her exit out of the room, before I can question her about Kavanagh and my sister leaving me hot and bothered, standing here.

*****

We drive to Flynn’s office in Anastasia’s Saab. Anastasia is surprised with the short distance. I tell her that I combine my exercise and my therapy by running to his office. She smiles. I’m completely pleased with the way her car handles; her safety is in good hands.

She looks distracted.

“Yeah, uhm. I think so too,” she says smiling, but her mind is elsewhere. Her chest is heaving anxiously; her gaze is matching her heart. She’s too nervous.

“Christian...” she says making an ‘o’ with her lips to exhale, and take a deep breath. “...I,” she says swallowing. What’s the matter? Why is she extremely nervous? Is she thinking of breaking up with me here?

“What's the matter, Ana?” I ask reflecting her anxiety.

Finally she digs into her purse, and brings up something, and holds that article small enough to fit into her palms. “Here,” she says. I look down confused. It’s a tiny gift box sitting in the middle of her palm wrapped in brown paper wrap and tied up with strings.

“I’ve got this for your birthday. I would like you to have it now, but only if you promise not to open it until Saturday, on your birthday, okay?”

I don’t get presents that much, because people usually don’t know what to give me, since I seemingly have everything, and can afford everything. But, everything Anastasia does or gives me is a treasure. The fact that she thought of me... I swallow hard. This means so much. This little tiny box is big enough to hold the universe inside it for me. It’s from Anastasia! I look up at her trying to blink away the emotions that are forcing their way out, and I can only murmur “okay,” to her.

My gaze is fixed on that little box.

She takes a deep lungful of breath as if this is her last, and puts the box inside my awaiting hand. I feel overwhelmed, amazed, frozen, paralyzed all at the same time - all with the courtesy of this tiny little box. I finally hold the small box between my thumb and index finger, and shake it by my ear. It rattles. Hmm. What could it be? It’s not a ring. It would be wishful thinking! It’s heavier than a ring, and a ring wouldn’t rattle. It would sit firmly.

Are they cufflinks? It’d be more of a clicking noise if the box had cufflinks. Not a rattle. Argh! The curiosity is burning me inside out! I hold it on my palm and gaze at it. I don’t have Superman’s x-ray vision. The frustration makes me frown. What could it be? Anastasia, this is pure torture! This is only Thursday! Two frigging days to wait!

I finally smile. I can wait to open it on Saturday! This is from Anastasia. I’ll keep it close to my heart for a couple of days for safekeeping inside my pinstripe jacket.

As I put it inside my jacket, Anastasia warns me, “You aren’t allowed to open it till Saturday.”

“I get it. But, why are you giving this to me now?” If she doesn’t want to me to open it till Saturday, it doesn’t make sense for her give it to me now. Or does it? Is there significance?

Anastasia’s answer brings me out of my reveries. “Because I can, Mr. Grey,” she says smirking and making me grin in response to her smile even though she stole my line!

Flynn’s receptionist, an older lady, Eleanor greets us.

“Good evening, Eleanor,” I reply to her greeting.

“Dr. Flynn is waiting for you sir. Right this way,” she says as she beams at us, or maybe at me, and Anastasia’s eyes narrow on her. Jealous?  Her response makes me feel just a tiny bit better. As we enter into Flynn’s office, Anastasia takes in the décor. She eyes the pale green room with dark green couches, and leather winged chairs. Flynn stands up from his desk at the far end of the corner and walks over to greet us. I notice that Anastasia gives a quick once over to Flynn’s black slacks, pale blue open necked shirt, and finally stopping at his blue eyes. Flynn greets me first extending his hand.

“Christian,” he says smiling.

“John,” I respond as I take his hand. “You remember Anastasia?” I say as a way of reintroduction.

“Of course. How could I forget? Welcome Anastasia,” he welcomes her warmly in his Londoner accent.

“Call me Ana, please,” says Anastasia.

“Ana,” he replies. And he leads us into the room. I gesture to one of the couches for Anastasia, and she seats herself though looking very nervous. She crosses her legs, and deciding against it, crosses her feet at the ankles. She tries to put her arms on the arm rest, but that too is uncomfortable for her, and finally she places them on her lap. I take the couch next to hers placed in a right angle. There is a side table with a small table lamp on it between our chairs. I sprawl on the couch cross my legs, and rest my ankle on my knee. I extend my arm on the back of the sofa, and reach across to find Anastasia’s nervous hand, and squeeze it to give some reassurance, though I don’t know whether it’s for her benefit, or mine. Flynn takes his seat in the winged chair, his leather notepad in his hand ready to observe.

“Ana, Christian has requested that you accompany him to one of our sessions. Just to inform you, we treat these sessions with absolute confidentiality,” says Flynn. But Anastasia interrupts him.

“Oh, yes, I understand Dr. Flynn... I’ve already signed an NDA,” she murmurs misunderstanding the doctor. I release her hand as if her words shock me with a jolt of electricity.

“I’m sorry, what? Did you mean a non-disclosure agreement?” he asks and Anastasia nods, confused. Flynn looks at me questioning, and I casually shrug.

“Just out of curiosity Christian... Indulge me if you will...” he says clearing his throat. “Do you start all of your relationships with women with a Non-Disclosure Agreement?” Of course all my employees sign one, all my doctors sign one; in fact even Flynn signed one. He should have an idea of this knowing who I am and what I do with women.

“I do with the contractual ones,” I reply. Flynn tries to suppress a smile.

“Have you had any other types of relationship with women?” he asks in an amused tone.

“No, I guess not,” I say smiling, seeing the irony in it.

That of course confirms Flynn’s suspicions. “In that case, we have nothing to worry about confidentiality. However, since I understand that you are entering into a non-contractual relationship, I would suggest that you revisit and discuss the NDA at some point.”

“I hope to enter into a different kind of contract with her,” I say in soft murmur, and glimpsing at Anastasia who is now blushing profusely. Flynn looks at me quizzically narrowing his eyes. Then shaking his head he turns to Anastasia and says, “Ana, you have to forgive me, but perhaps I know a lot about you than you may think. Christian has been very candid.” Anastasia’s eyes dart at me frantic, questioning.

Flynn’s question breaks her gaze and she turns her attention to him.

“Ana, so, signing an NDA... That must have been quite a shock for you.” Anastasia looks, and blinks, and shakes her head in the negative.

“The shock of the NDA was inconsequential compared to Christian’s most recent revelations,” she replies in her soft voice, anxious.

Flynn nods smiling at Ana, “I’m sure,” he replies. Then turns to me and asks, “So Christian, what would you like to discuss today?”

I shrug nonchalantly though I’m nervous as hell. This is it!

“It was Anastasia who wanted to see you today. Perhaps you should direct the question to her,” I say to Flynn who looks surprised, but dons his professional face, and turns to Anastasia questioning. Anastasia immediately gets shy, her gaze dipping to her knotted fingers. She’s not used to being the center focus.

Then fucking Flynn asks her a question that makes me nervous as hell!

“Ana, would you be more comfortable if Christian left us for a little while?” Anastasia’s gaze immediately darts at me, and I look at her hopeful that she’d be comfortable enough with my presence to be able to discuss whatever is worrying her.   

“Yes,” she whispers and my heart sinks. I open my mouth to protest, frowning. I look from one person to another. I close my mouth. I can do this... I can do this... I stand up sulkily.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” I say to no one in particular. My nerves are so taut, and I’m so on edge, I feel like a tightly strung bow with a ready to shoot arrow. I slowly exhale like a bull through my nose as my teeth are gritted and my mouth goes into a flat line.

“Thank you Christian,” says Dr. Flynn unperturbed.

I turn and look at Anastasia, searching her gaze. Why doesn’t she want me in here? Does this mean she doesn’t want me at all? I wouldn’t be surprised. What could she possibly want to talk to him without my presence here? I’m so fucking ready to drag her out of Flynn’s office, and never come back. But, that would backfire on me. What to do? What to do? Take her out, or wait out and see how things play? Do I have to do some damage control? I might have to... I see no apprehension in Anastasia’s eyes, but that doesn’t mean she’s not apprehensive. Fine! I’ll give her this. Thirty minutes, starting now! Fuck! Flynn can tell her my life story in thirty minutes. He’s signed an NDA. He’s not supposed to divulge information about me. But then again, I delivered Anastasia to him with my own fucking hands! I can’t take him to court it, can I if he imparts with personal information about me, can I? Depends on what he says to her.

I walk out into the waiting room, and Eleanor beams up at me. I sit casually at one of the leather couches.

“Would you like something to drink Mr. Grey?” asks Eleanor helpfully.

“No, thanks,” I say tersely.

My gaze is fixed on the hallway where Anastasia and Flynn are locked in together talking. Talking about us... Deciding on our future! I can’t do a fucking shit about it! Shouldn’t I be one of the people who have a say on that decision? Twenty six minutes and thirteen seconds left.

I cross my left ankle over my right knee. My arms are resting against the back of the sofa. No, this is not comfortable. I retrieve my arms to my lap, lift my butt off the sofa, and retrieve my Blackberry to look busy for Eleanor’s benefit who is eyeing me like I’m a lab experiment.

I scroll through my e-mails. Ros on business acquisition, Ros on the Korean shipyard, Ros on merging SIP servers into ours, Barney’s take on server immersion, Welch progress on Hyde – there’s not much to report yet, Barney again on the cost of our last server room update, Andrea e-mailing me about WSU farming project, and possible progress update and meeting tomorrow, and Anastasia’s last message. It’s telling me not to worry about Flynn. Should I heed to her? How can I not worry when she practically let Flynn kick me out of the room? Is this the behavior of a girlfriend who tells you not to worry? She would have said, “I’ve nothing to hide from Christian. He can remain...” No! She had to get me kicked out! Why? Does she love me less now? Do I still intimidate her that much? I shake my head to shake off the thoughts.

Gotta find something to occupy my mind... I scroll through the contents of my phone and find a game involving some angry looking birds. Well, good! I know exactly how you feel. My fingers are shaking as I try to destroy the piled boxes slinging those mad faced birds. My mind isn’t concentrating.

“Mr. Grey, are you alright, sir?” a concerned voice asks leaning. I blink and look up.

“Yes, why?” I say, looking up frowning.

“You seem to be shaking, sir. Are you cold in here?”

I look down my legs, and I have that nervous gesture again. I slowly get my leg down.

“I can have that water now, Eleanor. Thank you,” I say distracting her.

She scurries away to get me a bottle of water. I check my time again. Eighteen minutes and twenty seven seconds. Time has always been of essence, but until I met Anastasia, I never counted the seconds. I feel like Anthony Constantino right now. His words ring in my head and how true they are. “Only when I grew to love you did I understand the relativity of time; then, I wished to embrace you forever, hoping that eternity would last just a few minutes more.” Except that my lover is inside that room, while I’m sitting out here, tormenting myself!

I get up from the seat and start wearing a track on Flynn’s Turkish rug in the waiting room. Eleanor comes in, and hands me the water. I take it absently. My heart is at my throat. I can’t take this waiting! I feel like I’ve been bound and gagged and terrorized and castrated, and lobotomized all at the same time even though she wrote in her e-mail to not to worry about Flynn. How can I not when I’m sitting here... well, pacing here, and Flynn is very possibly recommending her to dump my ass! My hand reaches inside my pocket. I bring out the small box into my hand. I hold it in my hand as if it is the lifeline Anastasia tossed at me. She loves me. She loves me. She loves me, I chant in my head.

Thirteen minutes...

The love I have for Anastasia scares me. But what scares me more is not having her love me back, or worse stop loving me... Worst still would be not having her in my life. I have to have her body and soul and heart. Anything less would destroy me...

Wasn’t it Benito Behar who wrote:

“All I do is act on my passion and they call it sin.

All I do is tell the truth and they call me a hypocrite.

All I feel is pain and sorrow and they call it love.

All I do is pour my heart out to empty pages, and they call it poetry.”

The poor fucker must have been in love! Welcome to the club, sucker! Get in line for pain! We’re open 24/7! By the time Anastasia says “yes” to me, I’ll end up becoming a poet as well... I halt in my tracks. What if she doesn’t? What if this is it? What if Flynn says I have too much shit and she thinks that it’s not worth the trouble?

“Oh fuck!” I say loudly, and Eleanor looks up blushing with my epitaph. I start pacing the carpet again and making Flynn’s receptionist nervous.

No! No! No! No!  She’s part of my existence, part of myself, part of my soul! Everywhere I look, I imagine her. She’s been in my hopes and dreams, and in every prospect of my future... I didn’t come here, and brought her here so she can leave me! I’m not here to lose her. It’d be a cold day in hell if she leaves me today!

Oh God! She can hurt me... She really can hurt me by leaving me. I don’t know what they’re talking in there, and I’m writhing in agony here. Fuck!

Four minutes! Four lousy minutes!

I’m so fucking jealous of the time Flynn is spending with my woman even if he’s the shrink, and the powerlessness of not being in there is torture... I’m the one who is fucking in love with her, for God’s sake!

Two minutes... I’m calling it time!

I go to Flynn’s office, and knock on the door sharply showing my fucking irritation. How would anyone understand this love burning me inside out? I’m man on fire! I walk into the room, and scowl at both Anastasia and Dr. Flynn.

“Welcome back Christian,” says Flynn smiling.  Oh, shut up!

“I believe your time is up John,” I say pointedly.

“Almost, Christian. Come and join us,” he says temperately.

After the tortures of the last twenty-eight minutes, I can’t stay an inch away from Anastasia. I have to have physical contact with her. I sit next to her on the couch as our legs are touching like we’re joined in the hips, and I place my hand over her knee to let Flynn know just who she belongs to. I can’t help it. Even if he has a wife he’s in love with, and he’s my shrink, I have to declare my territory. She’s my woman! My lover! My girlfriend! After waiting this horrendous twenty-eight minutes, I don’t care who thinks it’s possessive, Flynn or anyone else! I think even God would agree with me on this one. I’m not the first man in love! But I love Anastasia with all my passion, all my existence, all my soul, all that I am, fucked up or otherwise. Didn’t King Solomon live one of the greatest loves in human history, and he made his way into the Bible with his love? Why should mine be any less than Biblical proportions?

Flynn eyes my possessive hand over Anastasia’s leg. Yes, take a good look at it! She’s my woman!

“Do you have any more questions Ana?” he asks in a concerned tone. Why is he concerned? What did she ask? Oh, fuck! She just shakes her head nervously.

“How about you Christian?”

“No, not today, John,” I answer, my gaze without leaving Anastasia’s face. He just nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Perhaps, you may find it beneficial, if you both come again in the future. I’ve no doubt that Ana will have more questions.”

What questions is he talking about? I nod unenthusiastically. Unblinking, I’m still looking at Anastasia, and she flushes with Flynn’s comment. Is she still with me? Still my lover, my girlfriend?

“Are you okay?” I ask concerned in a low voice. She nods her head and smiles at me. I finally exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I feel just a fraction better. With that small relief I squeeze her hand in reassurance. But still, I want to leave here with her and do a damage assessment.

I get up, and haul Anastasia to her feet.

As we’re leaving I finally remember to check on Leila. In a low voice I ask Flynn how she’s doing in her progress. He tells me that she’ll get there.

“Keep me updated of her progress,” I say and he reassures me that he will.

Then I turn to Anastasia and ask, “Shall we celebrate your promotion now?” a little sharply. She understands my tone, and nods shyly.

I can barely get out of Flynn’s office, and as soon as the door is closed behind us, and we’re on the street, I turn to her and ask her how it went.

“It was good,” she says cryptically.

That’s it? Good? My suspicion is rising inside, anxious and nervous.

Cocking her head to one side, she says, “Please don’t look at me that way, Mr. Grey. Under doctor’s orders, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Huh?

“What? What’s that mean?” I’m completely surprised at her easy demeanor.

“You’ll see,” she says with a glint in her eyes.

Her response oddly makes me smile, but I manage to narrow my gaze on her scrutinizing, and opening the passenger door of her car, I finally order her, “Get in the car.”

But before she manages to get in the car, her Blackberry starts ringing. She takes a look at the caller, and her face blanches. Who is it?

“Hi!” she answers in a high pitched voice. Dare I guess who it is? A male voice greets her, and jealousy in me shoots up many rungs on the ladder. I gaze at her suspiciously.

“Jose,” she mouths at me. Fucking bastard! How many stress inducers can I handle in one day? My face hides my apprehension, but hard to keep it off my eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to call you. Is this about tomorrow?” she asks him, but her gaze is on me. What’s she asking me?

I hear something about the pictures I purchased. This must be the courtesy hand delivery by another admirer of hers! I’ll pay for the shipping triple if I have to; he can stay where he is!

Anastasia clears her throat nervously. What the hell is he asking her?

“Jose, I’m actually currently staying with Christian,” she says, and turning and looking at me she adds, “He says you can also stay at his place if you wanted to.” The hell I did! I’m backed into a corner. It’s either he stays with us, or my girlfriend goes and stays with two guys who are both drooling over her! Can a man get a break here?

My mouth gets into a taut line, and Anastasia cringes. Then after the fucker asks him something, she turns her back to me and starts walking to the other side of the sidewalk.

“Yes,” she answers a question I couldn’t hear.

Rolling her eyes, she says, “Serious.” Thousand Dollars says they’re talking about us.

She’s fidgeting where she’s standing.

“Yes,” she answers again monosyllabic. I’m sure it’s all for my benefit. What does she not want me to hear? Why the secrecy?

She exhales and says, “Of course I am,” she says. Of course she is what?

She listens his muttering again. “Yes, you can pick me up from work.” Great!

“I’ll text you the address.” She listens again. They’re arranging a time to meet.

“Say about six?”

She grins ear to ear into the phone. I don’t like her responding to another man like that. Because I think a man should never give the opportunity to another man to make his woman smile! That’s my job! Not that fucker’s!

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and disconnects the call.

I’m leaning onto the Saab and my arms are crossed over my chest.

“How’s your friend?” I ask nonchalantly.

“He’s fine. He’ll pick me up from work to go for a drink. Would you like to come with us?”

I’m trying to assess the situation. Will he be a threat to Ana? If he’s, then I’ll definitely be there. If she thinks he won’t, I’ll try to show her that I can make concessions, and she can see his friend without any interruption from me. I think I can manage that.

“Do you think he’ll try anything with you?” I ask coolly trying to assess her expression.

“No! Of course, not!” she replies agitated. That’s good enough for me.

I hold my hands up to acquiesce. “Alright. You can hang out with Jose, and I’ll see you later in the evening.”

She takes a step back and looks at me like asking ‘who are you, and what have you done with Christian?’ making me smile.

“See? I can be reasonable time to time,” I say smirking.

But of course, with Anastasia, it’s always testing her boundaries, and trying to find a weak fence.

“Can I drive?” she asks excitedly. Well, that didn’t take long.

“I’d rather not be driven.” I reply.

“But that’s not fair! Don’t you trust my driving? You let me drive this morning, and you always let Taylor drive you,” she says petulantly.

“It’s because I trust Taylor’s driving implicitly.” She looks like she’s ready for a fight with her hands fisted on her hips.

“My God, Christian! I’ve been driving since I was fifteen years old. You know, your control freakery knows no limits!” I shrug as if it’s something don’t care about. She walks up to me angrily. Pointing at the car she hisses.

“Did you get this car for me?” she asks in a demanding voice.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then, I want the keys. I’ve only driven this vehicle twice – to and from work. Meanwhile you’re having all the fun, and playing with my car!” she says pouting. Jesus! She’s so hot when she’s angry at me! So lively! So, passionate! I try to suppress my smile.

“But you have no idea where we’re going,” I say trying to derail her plan.

“Well, Mr. Grey,” she says softening her tone, and turning it into a salacious voice. “I’m sure you can enlighten me. I know that to be true; after all, you’ve done a great job of it so far,” she says as she runs caressing fingers over the hood of the car as she’s approaching me.

When did she learn to seduce me like that? She stuns me in silence, and my libido just shot up to ‘gotta have her now’ and I can only smile at her in response.

“Did you say great job?” I ask questioning, wanting her to repeat her acknowledgement.

She blushes. “Mostly, yes,” she replies.

“Well then, Miss Steele, in that case you may drive us,” I say handing her the keys, and walk over and open the driver’s door for her.

*****

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm, for love is as strong as death, it's jealousy as unyielding as the grave. It burns like a blazing fire, like a mighty flame, many waters cannot quench love, rivers cannot wash it away.”*

*Song of Solomon (8:67)