Tuesday, April 23, 2013

BOOK III - Chapter XXII - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

My one great talent lies in making
those who wrong me suffer horribly.

Archilochus (7th Century BC)


Anastasia is so tired; she falls asleep in the van. I pull her into my protective embrace, and hold her. My brother and Kate make out all the way home, short of fucking. Mia and Ethan remain behind to have a little more fun.

“Wake up, Ana,” I shake her gently when we arrive back at the house. Her eyes open though still very heavy with sleep, and falters out of the van with shaky legs. My brother and his fiancée disappear so quickly, I expect a trail of clothing marking the way to their room.

“Do I need to carry you?” I ask Anastasia. She shakes her head in response.

“Mr. Grey, I’ll go get Miss Grey and Mr. Kavanagh,” Taylor says, and I nod as I lead Anastasia to the front door holding her hand. Half asleep, half woozy with alcohol she stumbles behind me. I’m worried that after making all the way to the door, she’ll stumble down in her stilettos and break her leg. When we come to the front door, I stop Anastasia, stoop down before her, grasp her ankle and take her shoes off one by one. Then I straighten up and gaze down at her as I hold her Manolos. She stretches her toes, relaxing her feet.

“Better?” I ask in an amused tone. She nods in reply.

“I had delightful visions of these around my ears,” I mutter, staring down at her shoes morosely. But she’s worn out. I shake my head to clear off my wanton thoughts. I sigh and take her hand once again, and lead her through the darkened house, and slowly lead her to upstairs where our master bedroom is located.

“You’re wrecked, aren't you?” I ask softly, looking down at my wife. She nods again, too tired to utter a few words.

I unbuckle the belt of her trench coat.

“I’ll do it,” she manages to whisper, trying to brush me off weakly.

“Let me,” I say, both an order, and a request. She sighs, giving up.

“It’s the elevation. You’re not used to it. And the drinking, of course,” I remind her. We live at the sea level in Seattle, and here we are nearly eight thousand feet above the sea level. I shouldn't have let her drink so much alcohol though it was in celebration of my brother’s and Kate’s engagement. Elevation causes the alcohol affect the body faster than usual. I should have made sure that she drank twice the amount of water. I’m feeling guilty. Because she doesn’t know how her body would handle the elevation change, but I know better.

I smirk, and take the coat off her and throw it on one of the chairs. I take her hand and lead her into the bathroom. I need to clear her face off the makeup. She’s too tired to do it.

“Sit,” I order pointing to a chair. She sits like a good little girl. I go to the vanity, and search around her beauty supplies to find make up cleaner and a cotton ball. Ah! There they are! I walk back to my wife; she’s so tired, her eyes are closed. I tilt her head back. Surprised, she opens her eyes, blinking.

“Eyes closed,” I murmur holding the cotton ball to show her. She surrenders her face to my hands. I wipe the make-up off her right eye gently. I feel relaxed and completely happy for having to be the one to take care of my wife’s needs, however small. She just sits in the chair in a stunned silence.

“Ah. There’s the woman I married,” I say after the kohl is clear of her eyes.

“You don’t like make-up?” she asks.

“I like it well enough, but I prefer what’s beneath it,” I murmur as I kiss her forehead. I then take a couple of Advil Gel-Cap pills out of the bottle, and place them in her hands with a glass of water. She looks at the medicine and pouts.

“Take them,” I command. Alcohol combined with the elevation will give her a mean headache due to reduced oxygen levels. She rolls her eyes as expected, but obeys nonetheless.

“Good. Do you need a private moment?” I ask arrogantly. She snorts derisively.

“So coy, Mr. Grey. Yes, I need to pee.” I laugh at her response. She cuts to the chase as usual.

“You expect me to leave?”

She giggles in response. “You want to stay?” she asks. Yes, actually I would. I don’t see why she should be embarrassed of peeing in my presence. We've done so many kinky shit to pass that. I cock my head to the side with an amused expression.

“You are one kinky son of a bitch. Out. I don’t want you to watch me pee. That’s a step too far,” she says standing up and waving me out of the bathroom. She’s been exhausted up until I decide to stay in the bathroom while she goes to pee, then she gets a burst of energy to kick me, her husband out of the bathroom. She’s such a feisty madam!

I make my way to the closet and divest myself of my clothes, and taking everything off, I only put my pajama bottoms on. Few minutes later, Anastasia emerges from the bathroom. Though tired, her gaze lingers on my pajama bottoms, stares longingly at my abdomen, then her gaze goes down to my happy trail, and to my muscles then back to my happy. She’s distracted, alright.

“Enjoying the view?” I ask wryly.

“Always,” she says unashamed.

“I think you’re slightly drunk, Mrs. Grey.”

“I think, for once, I have to agree with you, Mr. Grey.”

“Let me help you out of what little there is of this dress. It really should come with a health warning,” I remind her. I turn her around and undo the single button at the neck. This dress is a widow maker.

“You were so mad,” she murmurs. I know what she’s talking about. Mad... Not the right word, but I’ll go along with it. I was nearly insane seeing another man fondling my wife’s ass.

“Yes. I was.”

“At me?” she questions.

“No. Not at you,” I say kissing her shoulder. “For once.” She smiles in acknowledgment. “It makes a nice change,” she says happily.

“Yes. It does,” I say as I tug her dress down off her backside, and let it pool onto the floor. I remove her panties, and she’s gloriously naked before me. I reach and take her hand; no need to take a chance of her falling at this moment.

“Step,” I order, and she steps out of her dress as she holds onto my hand for balance. I scoop her dress and panties up, and toss them on top of the trench coat on the chair. Then I grab one of my t-shirts. “Arms up,” I command softly, and when she holds her arms up, I dress her in my t-shirt, and pull it down to cover her. I pull her into my arms, and kiss her. Her minty breath is intoxicating.

“As much as I’d love to bury myself in you, Mrs. Grey, you've had too much to drink, and you’re at nearly eight thousand feet, and you didn't sleep well last night. Come. Get into bed,” I order. I put her into the bed, and cover the duvet over her.

“Close your eyes. When I come back to bed, I’ll expect you to be asleep,” I order with absolute finality.

“Don’t go,” she pleads with me.

“I have some calls to make, Ana.”

“It’s Saturday. It’s late. Please,” she begs, and I have conflicting emotions. If I get into the bed with her, given the fact that I’m not sleepy, and she’s damn near naked, and so close, I’m going to want to fuck her. I run my hand through my hair.

“Ana, if I come to bed with you now, you won’t get any rest. Sleep,” I command once again. She shows her acquiescence by closing her eyes, and I softly kiss her forehead.

“Goodnight, baby,” I breathe. There’s a big smile on her face as I leave the bedroom.

                                                *****  *****
The first call is to Welch.

“Welch’s here,” is his greeting.

“Any updates?” I ask without a preamble.

“Not much is coming out of Detroit. I don’t want to send someone else to dig in. I’d much rather do it myself, sir. But, now isn't the best time. I’d like to tie the loose ends here locally first, if you agree, Mr. Grey.”

“What’s the fucker doing in the jail?”

“Asking for bail. He’s too smart...”

“You have talked to my lawyers, right?” I ask suddenly anger rising.

“Yes, sir. They’re making all the attempts to block his bail request. Besides, all he can afford is public defense. But we don’t want to take Hyde lightly. He’s done a lot, and we’d like to keep him in the hole he’s in.”

“Do you know if he said anything to the police yet?”

“They’re being very tight lipped sir. I’ve been trying to find out more information through my contacts. Since this is a high profile case, all their asses are on the line, and nobody wants to screw up. I’m sure they’ll do everything by the book, sir.”

I let out a breath of exasperation.

“So, slow and exasperating, then...” I mutter under my breath.

“We’re not depending on the police department sir, never have. We’re keeping eyes and ears as close to his jail cell as possible.”

“Keep me updated. We’ll be back in town later in the day,” I remind him.

“Yes, sir.”

I then go through my work e-mails. There’s a mountain of e-mails, and work documents needing my signature, or review. Boring as ditch water. But, I’d like to get them done so I can free my day time for my wife. I dive into it, and get through them in a few hours. By the time I make my way back to my bed, it’s passed 3:00 a.m. in the morning. Anastasia curled up in infant position in our bed, her hand outstretched to my pillow as if to seek me out in her sleep. I slip into the bed, and pull her into my embrace spooning. My hands are around her waist, and I pull her legs between mine, and knowing she’s safe within my hold, I fall into a peaceful sleep.
                                              *****  *****

I’m cozy and warm. Slight movements wake me. I feel her hair tickle my face as she moves, and my legs are tangled with hers as usual.

“What’s wrong?” I ask half groggy and sleepy as my gaze searches for an answer in her blue eyes.

“Nothing. Good morning,” she replies softly and runs her fingers through my hair gently, immediately relaxing me.

“Mrs. Grey, you look lovely this morning,” I whisper and kiss her cheek. Her eyes light up incandescently.

“Thank you for taking care of me last night,” she says looking at me grateful.

“I like taking care of you. It’s what I want to do,” I say quietly. Doesn’t she understand that I need to take care of her? I want her to need me. Her declaration of appreciation, that she liked me taking care of her elates me unexpectedly. I hide the sentiment, but my eyes betray my joy; I feel triumphant as if I accomplished something I’ve set out to do. Then again... I did. My primary goal in life has become pleasing and taking care of Anastasia.

“You make me feel cherished,” she says making me take a sharp breath.

“That’s because you are,” I murmur.

I grip her hand, and my hold winces her. Alarmed, I immediately release it.

“The punch?” I ask with cold eyes remembering the blonde fucker’s hands on her. The malice, I thought was hidden is evident in my voice.

“I slapped him. I didn't punch him.”

“That fucker!” I hiss my epitaph. Her eyes question me, surprised.

“I can’t bear that he touched you,” I whisper.

“He didn't hurt me, he was just inappropriate. Christian, I’m okay. My hand’s a little red, that’s all. Surely you know what that’s like?” she says smirking. I can’t help but get distracted with her comment. I quite enjoy my hands tingling after giving a good spanking.

“Why, Mrs. Grey, I am very familiar with that.” I smile with pleasure. “I could reacquaint myself with that feeling this minute, should you so wish.”

“Oh, stow your twitching palm, Mr. Grey,” she says gently stroking my face with her injured hand. Her fingers touch and caress my side-burn. She grasps the hair gently with her fingers, and tug them. I’m soon lost in the joy of her touch. I take her hand, and gently place a soft kiss in her palm.

“Why didn't you tell me this hurt last night?”

“Uhm... I didn't really feel it last night. It’s okay now.” Even though her hand hurt, I feel a tinge of pride, and an unexplained relief knowing that she hit the bastard. My eyes soften.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than I deserve.”

“That’s quite a right arm you have there, Mrs. Grey,” I say proudly.

“You’d do well to remember that, Mr. Grey.”

“Oh really?” I say rising up to the challenge. I roll promptly on top of her with my full weight pushing her into the mattress; I grab her wrists and hold them above her head. I’m completely aroused. My gaze is fixed on her. I want her to resist me. The thought of her fighting me in bed is actually a big turn on for me.

“I’d fight you any day, Mrs. Grey. In fact, subduing you in bed is a fantasy of mine,” I say and then I kiss her throat seductively.

“I thought you subdued me all the time,” she says gasping as I nibble her ear, and suck her lobe.

“Hmmm... but I’d like some resistance,” I murmur and skirt my nose over her jaw. She stills under me. I stop immediately, and release her hands, then lean up on my elbows.

“You want me to fight you? Here?” she asks whispering. My revelation shocks her. Yes, please. Fight me! It awakens the predator in me. With barely concealed excitement, I nod. My eyes are hooded, wary, worried about her reaction.

“Now?” she asks. I shrug, but, man, I’m riveting inside. Excited, turned on, enthralled and the idea of her resisting me seduces me instantly. I nod slowly. My breath is shallow. My erection is a thick, steely rope digging into her soft, enticing flesh.

“Is this what you meant about coming to bed angry?” she asks. I nod once again; my eyes are anxious and wary. I just know that subduing her would get me in control during sex and get her anger out, and that’s what I need, that's what we both need, and what I crave. But her resistance in bed also mirrors her day to day behavior. Her resistance, however exasperating is always a turn on, seductive, tempting, and makes me want to conquer the unconquerable.  As she’s mulling the idea over in her head, she bites her lip.

“Don’t bite your lip,” I warn her. She releases her lip, obediently.

“I think you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Grey,” she says batting her eyelashes and squirming under my cock provocatively.

“Disadvantage?” I ask not quite understanding what she means.

“Surely you've already got me where you want me?” she says in a questioning tone, making me smirk. Of course... I press my groin, and my full erection into her again.

“Good point well made, Mrs. Grey,” I whisper and quickly kiss her lips. Well then, Mrs. Grey, I can oblige. I hold Anastasia, and roll over and take her along with me, and when I lay my back on the bed, she’s straddling me. She grabs my hands, and pin them to the side of my head. Her hair is loose and falling in gorgeous chestnut strands around her face, over her breasts and finally reaching my face and tickling me. I love it! I jerk my face away from her sweet assault with her hair, but I let the games begin.

“So, you want to play rough?” she asks as she sweeps her crotch over mine, making me open my mouth and inhale sharply.

“Yesss!” I hiss, and she releases me.

“Wait,” says, and leaning over to the side table, she takes the glass of water and drinks a long gulp. My fingers trace over her sides, and I draw small circles over her thighs, and finally cup her buttocks and squeeze her behind. She leans down kisses me; her tongue parts my lips and she pours cool water into my mouth reflecting my mode of serving her wine. I swallow, pleased. “Very tasty, Mrs. Grey,” I murmur grinning.

She places the cup on the bedside table, and pulling my hands from her delectable behind, she pins them by my head once more.

“So, I’m supposed to be unwilling?" She asks, smirking.


“I’m not much of an actress,” she says showing me how willing she is to be under me. I grin with salacious joy.

“Try,” I murmur.

She lowers her head as her hair creates a veil concealing our faces; she kisses me, softly, chastely. “Okay, I’ll play," she whispers her acquiescence. Without removing her lips from my face, she trails her teeth along my jaw, scraping my stubble, as her tongue teases my chin along with her teeth creating a tingling sensation, I can feel it all the way inside my groin. My responding sound is primal, predatory, low, and guttural. I make my move. 

This sexy creature, my wife is awakening all my synapses, along with the hungry, heated beast in me and setting my blood on fire. I shift in my place, and roll, tossing her onto the bed beside me. She cries out in surprise, then I move on top of her and wrestle and struggle to capture her hands. She places her hands on my chest, first slowly, and then exerting all her weight and strength on me. But it’s no match to me. She tries to move me while I focus my efforts in prying legs apart with my knees. She focuses her efforts to push at me on my chest, but I am firmly planted on top of my wife. In fact her hands are welcome on my chest; I’m no longer apprehended by her touch. I’m completely enjoying myself with her attempts to buck me off.

I attempt to capture her wrists again, and this time, I capture one of it, but she tries to twist it free of my grasp. It’s the hand she smacked her assailant with. But soon as she surrenders her injured hand to me, she moves her other hand to grab my hair, and she pulls it really hard!

“Ah!” I groan with the shock of her assault but completely turned on, aroused, lustful. I yank my head free of her capture, and look at her with primal, licentious, unrestrained eyes.

“Savage,” I whisper with salacious rapture.

She’s turned on even more ferociously and this time she’s putting real effort in fighting me off. She struggles against me, trying to pry her hand off my hold. Meanwhile she tries to hook her ankles together and makes her best attempt to buck me off her like a wild, unbroken mare. Damn fucking hot! I capture her other hand despite her struggles, and hold them both within the captivity of my left hand, and my right hand travels down her body, fondling and feeling as I leisurely make my way down; I pull and tease her nipple as my hand arrogantly makes its way down.

Maroon 5 - Misery

She yelps as I pull her nipple, and as her breathing gets heavier, she makes another attempt to throw me off her body.

I lean in and try to kiss her, but she jerks her head side to side so I can’t capture her lips. My right hand brazenly moves from the hem of her t-shirt up to her chin. I hold her in place and run my teeth along her jaw mirroring her earlier action.

“Oh, baby, fight me,” I murmur. Struggle under me, make me work for my reward. She twists and writhes under me, tries to free herself hopelessly. I hold her in my firm grip, because I’m much stronger. She sucks her lower lip in, and immediately my mouths dives down and pulls her lip out and grasps it into the captivity of my teeth, and gently bite it. Then I push my tongue out, trying to invade her mouth, but this time, she doesn’t resist. She returns my kiss...most ardently. She then unhooks her ankles and wraps her legs around my hips and uses her heels to push my pajamas down my ass.

“Ana,” I breathe with desire, completely lost in her magic and kiss her everywhere. We are no longer wrestling each other, but our hands are caressing, kneading, pulling, pleasuring, and tongues trashing, sucking, and sensually licking one another.

Black Magic Woman - Santana

My efforts are quick, and urgent.

“Skin,” I murmur hoarsely with labored breathing. I drag my wife up and pull off her t-shirt with one swift move and toss it off.

“You,” she whispers. Then she yanks my pajamas down making my erection come to full salute, firm, and thick, throbbing for her. She grabs me and squeezes me in her hand. I hiss my breath out through my gritted teeth sharply, and she pumps my cock from my dewy tip to the root.

“Fuck!” I murmur. I lean back, lifting her thighs, and tip her down onto the bed. She keeps her hold on my cock, pulls and squeezes me, then starts her sensual strokes up and down the length of my erection, pumping. When her hand reaches my meaty crown, she lifts her thumb, and spreads the dewy moisture around, swirling, and making me tingle all the way down to my toes. I’ve had all I can without fucking her. As I lower her to the mattress, she slips her tongue into her mouth, making me harder. As my hands travel up her body, caressing her hips, her stomach, and finally focusing on her full, perky breasts, “Taste good?” I ask her. I align my body to hover over her; my eyes are ablaze with carnal desire for my wife.

“Yes. Here,” she says in a breathy voice, and pushes her thumb into my mouth. I suck it, and bite the pad. She groans in response, and grasps my head, and pulls me down to her for a kiss. She wraps her legs around me, and pushes my pajamas off my legs with her feet, then nestle me with her legs around my waist. My lips trail from across her jaw to her chin, nibbling softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur as I dip my head lower to the base of her throat. “Such beautiful skin,” I breathe, and my lips skate down to her inviting breasts.

“Christian,” she calls me with a plea for what? Go faster? She fists her hands in my hair.

“Hush,” I whisper as I circle her nipple with my tongue, then I pull it into my mouth and tug hard.

“Ah!” she moans and squirms under me, tilting her pelvis upward to meet my cock. Her attempts make me grin against her skin, but I won’t give in. I turn my attention to her other neglected nipple.

“Impatient, Mrs. Grey?” I ask, and then suck hard on her nipple, pulling it deep. She tugs my hair. I groan and look up. “I’ll restrain you,” I say with a warning tone.

“Take me,” she begs in a needy voice.

“All in good time,” I murmur against her skin. My hand travels down to her hip slowly, my lips latch on her nipple, licking, swirling and sucking, worshiping her. She moans loudly, her breathing is short and shallow. She rocks her hips against me, trying to pull me in. My cock is thick, heavy and throbbing for her, but I want to take my time. I want to make love to my wife.

But suddenly, Anastasia changes tact. She struggles and twists against me, this time determined to buck me off.

“What the fuck!” I say as I grab her hands, and pin her down to the bed, her arms spread wide, my full body weight on her, and she’s now completely subdued. Anastasia is breathless, and like a wild animal under me.

“You wanted resistance,” she says, panting. I rear up over her and gaze down, trying to decipher my wife’s mood. My hands are locked around her wrists. She places her heels under my ass, and tries to push me, but can’t make me move.

“You don’t want to play nice?” I ask perplexed. I’m alight with excitement.

“I just want you to make love to me, Christian,” she says. What the hell was I doing? I thought I was making love to her...thoroughly I might add.

“Please,” she says pressing her heels against my ass again. I search her face for a clue to understand exactly what she wants. Okay. She wants satisfaction. Now. I’ll give her that. I release her hands and sit back on my heels, and then pull her into my lap.

“Okay, Mrs. Grey, we’ll do this your way,” I say and lift her up, and slowly lower her onto me, making her straddle me.

“Ah!” she says completely pleased. She curls her arms around my neck, and her fingers twist inside my hair. The blissful, pleasured expression covers her face, and she starts moving. She is taking charge. I don’t know what to think about that. I like being in charge in bed. I like being in charge at all time, but especially in the bed. This...this is different. This is unique... She starts moving slow first, then picks up pace, and lets my cock spear into her sex repeatedly. I moan as I feel the familiar buildup, the squeezing of her sex, trying to pull me in further, deeper, and ... ah! I’m at my peak, and then she squeezes my cock inside her sex, with her muscles stroking, and gripping me tight through my length. A sensual feast... As we both reach our peak, my lips find hers, and we are lost in each other.

*****  *****

I don’t know how, or at what point we lay down on the mattress, but I come back to my senses as I feel her fingers stroking my chest hair. I’m on my back, and we’re both still trying to catch our breath. My hand is rhythmically thrumming down her back. I’m lost in thought trying to decipher what just happened. She took control away from me in the middle of sex, and I surrendered it to her. It hasn't happened before. I have not surrendered control to anyone since I’ve become a Dom. Yet, I didn't mind giving it to her. My feelings are ambivalent. Vacillating between pleased and mystified.

“You’re quiet,” she whispers and kisses my shoulder. I turn to look at her, my expression blank. “That was fun,” I say. Her face changes. She looks worried.

“You confound me, Mrs. Grey.”

“Confound you?” she asks.

I shift in my place and turn to her so we are face to face. “Yes. You. Calling the shots. It’s... different.”

“Good different, or bad different?” she asks trailing a finger over my lips. Pay the piper Grey. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure it out. I furrow my brow to elucidate my own feelings. I kiss her finger absentmindedly.

“Good different,” I say, but the feeling of ambivalence is still oscillating in my mind in different directions.

 You've never indulged this little fantasy before?” she asks blushing.

“No, Anastasia. You can touch me,” I say simply, truthfully. No one else could.

“Mrs. Robinson could touch you,” she murmurs, then looks regretful, having brought her name up. I still. My eyes are wide. Where the hell is she going with this statement? I don’t want Elena in my bed here, even in the hypothetical sense. She touched me without my permission back then, and she wouldn't give a shit about it. Anastasia has my fervent desire, and permission to touch me. I need her touch. “That was different,” I whisper.

Her face takes the curious look again. “Good different or bad different?” she asks.

I gaze at my wife who is looking at me with wide eyes, wanting to know about my multi colored kinky sex life, wanting to find out about my past. I feel the sudden pang of pain. Doubt runs through my face momentarily. At the time, I thought that’s what I wanted, because that’s all I could get, all I could tolerate. I was drowning with unexpressed, bottled up feelings that I had no way of releasing. That was the only way to breathe, to release what I had inside me. I don’t know how exactly it was. Perhaps bad... But that’s all I could receive, tolerate, and only way to feel.

“Bad, I think,” I whisper in a barely audible voice.

“I thought you liked it.”

“I did. At the time.” Because I didn't have this. I didn't know what I have with Anastasia was possible, or could even exist for me. That was the only way. That way was my only high. That’s how I managed to feel anything, any tangible human connection.

“Not now?” she probes again.

I gaze at her with wide, scared eyes. I shake my head. That...that...was nothing compared to what I now have. I feel love with Anastasia. I feel things that I didn't know existed, possible, or even comprehensible; and I’m a man who experienced it all.

“Oh, Christian,” she says overwhelmed. She launches herself at me, and kisses my face, my throat, my chest, and my scars one by one. I groan, deep, passionate, and love erupts from out of nowhere. I pull her to me, and kiss her passionately, devotedly, intensely, lustfully, and emotionally. Then, I make love to my wife, the only woman I ever loved, slowly, tenderly, and at my own leisurely pace, enjoying her completely, immersing myself into our love making.

*****  *****

After taking my shower with my wife after our morning love making, I dress in my black jeans and t-shirt. I make my way out to the kitchen area as Anastasia is still getting dressed.

“Morning Christian,” mutters Mia sulkily. What’s with her? Is she upset with Ethan? “Hi, good morning, Mia,” I reply, but I don’t want to question her. “Ethan,” I say by the way of greeting him.

“Mornin’ Christian,” he replies rather cheerfully. Mrs. Bentley is fixing breakfast for Kate, Elliot, Mia and Ethan. As I greet the rest of them, I turn to Mrs. Bentley.

“Mrs. Bentley, is Mr. Bentley outside?” I ask.

“Good morning Mr. Grey. Yes, as a matter of fact he is. He should be tending the yard, sir.”

“Thank you. And, Mrs. Bentley, I’d like to take my wife for a hike and a picnic. Would you mind packing us a picnic lunch?” I ask and make my way out. I don’t get to come to Aspen often. As the owner of the house, I need to talk to Mr. Bentley and find out if all is well on this front. Mr. Bentley is a fair haired, dark eyed, lean and sinewy man. He’s dressed in his work pants, and an Aspen Fire Department t-shirt.

“Mr. Grey!” he says in his gravelly voice. “I’m sorry you can’t stay long, sir. We've been having such nice weather.”

“We’ll come back again. How’s everything been here?”

“Quite well sir. We've had several big storms. In fact rain washed an old cast iron bridge away down by the creek. The water swelled up, like you've never seen! And winter seemed to be delaying spring all the way into mid-May this year. Of course it left me a lot of bushes to trim, and trees to shape, sir. But I enjoy the yard work.”

“You and Mrs. Bentley have done a good job!” I praise him, and he smiles politely in return.

“Thank you Mr. Grey, but we still have to put in the summer perennials. As you can see, the beds are still empty over here. We've put in most of them; just these few beds are left. But the weather has been rainy, and we don’t want the flowers to be inundated with water. They won’t hold if there’s too much of it, and the rain didn't seem to let up this summer.”

“Ajax Mountains are beautiful at this time of the year.”

“They are indeed, but then again, they’re beautiful every time of the year. Just a different kind of beauty,” he replies chuckling.

I notice a bamboo stick on the flower bed. It’s about a yard long. I pick it off the ground, and flex it. It bends with tension, and when I release one end, it springs back up. It’s like a cane!

“Do you think you will come back with your father for fishing this year?”

“Yes. I intend to. Maybe even bring my father-in-law. He’s a keen fisherman as well,” I say. I hold and weigh the bamboo cane, then holding it at arm’s length; I swiftly swing the bamboo cane, slashing it through the air. I feel an instant jubilation. I have missed the cane in my hand, the punishing control it gave me. Though I won’t use it on my wife. This is in my past...

I swing it once again. It slashes the air making a whooshing sound, finally the tip of it hitting the ground. It’s not like hitting the buttocks, with pink lines forming, but it reminds me the sensation. My heart paces, but I realize that it’s not the same excitement I once felt. Then I feel her gaze in the distance. She’s watching me, standing at the window. I stop, and swallow. What would she think of me? I feel like a recovering alcoholic caught sipping the cooking wine to remember the taste. Anastasia waves at me, and then leaves the window. Shit! This will come up, and she’s going to want to talk about it. But not now.

*****  *****

Kate and Elliot want to spend time alone after being engaged, Mia is sulky and I don’t want to muddle our moods with hers, and she and Ethan decide to stay in the house. If Mia is staying, I’m not taking Ethan with us as a third wheel. I want to show my wife the beauty of Aspen’s outdoors. I take her to Rio Grande Trail because it’s one of the most accessible and by far one of the most popular trails due to its ease and the scenic route. Anastasia isn't used to long and difficult hikes.  I take her through the trail following the old Denver and Rio Grande Railroad bed along the Roaring Fork River. It’s the old scenic railroad corridor.

I want to show her everything I enjoy doing, looking at, and participating. The weather is moderate, and the sun is shining. I show her different spots I like off the beaten path. By the end of the hike, she’s quite tired, but we stop and have ourselves a picnic.

Mrs. Bentley packed us a red and white checkered picnic blanket. I take it out of the hiking backpack and lay it on the lush green grass overlooking the water. Anastasia is tired with the altitude and hike.

“You’re already tired, Mrs. Grey?”

“I am, Mr. Grey,” she says as she leans back on the blanking supporting herself on her elbows.

“How do you like the scenery so far?” I ask anxiously, leaning down on my belly and supporting myself up on my elbows.  

“Oh, Christian, I love it. It’s beautiful. Being out here, just the two of us, no flashing cameras, no worries...” she says, and my face falls.

“I know we've had a difficult week, but, I hope this mini vacation took your mind away from all the worries of home for a little while” I say with my gaze wide, unblinking.

She scrambles up on her knees and leans down towards me, holding my face with her hands.

“This,” she says gesturing with one hand, “this is wonderful. What you did... bringing my friends here on such a short notice... Words fail me, Christian! It’s beyond thoughtful! You are wonderful husband! Mine...” she says and leans down to kiss me.

When our lips touch, fire ignites inside me, and I lift my body up and grasping her body in my arms, I roll on my back pulling Anastasia on top of me. Our kiss turns into more, but quickly subdued with the noise of hikers with children nearby.

“Behave, Mrs. Grey,” I mock warn her, and she giggles. Reluctantly, we finish our picnic lunch.

Rest of the day goes by quickly and soon enough, the small vacation is over and we’re on our way back to Seattle, back to reality.

Stephan turned the ‘Buckle your seatbelt’ sign, and we are about to land. Anastasia is asleep. I nudge her softly.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up. We’re about to land. Buckle up,” I whisper.

Half asleep, she fumbles with her seat belt, unable to buckle it. I smile and fasten it for her. I kiss her forehead, and settle back into my seat, pleased with the fact that she needs me, even for something so simple. She leans her head on my shoulder, and closes her eyes, drifting back to sleep for a little longer. Every passenger on the plane is quiet, including my sister. I pick my business contract back up, and start reading and annotating again. I feel Anastasia open her eyes and look at me. My brother is snoring, but somehow, he wakes up.

“I sure love your blush, Ana,” he teases my wife, as he yawns and stretches. Officer Beighley announces our approach to Se-Tac over the intercom, and Anastasia stiffens afraid of the landing. I hold her hand, rubbing gentle circles inside her palms and soothe her with soft murmurs.

Once we exit the plane, we find Ryan is waiting for us with the Audi SUV. He opens the passenger door for us. I let Anastasia slide in, then I sit next to her. He closes the door and sits in the front with Taylor.

“How was your weekend, Mrs. Grey?” I ask.

“Good, thank you,” she replies, blushing, and shy.

“We can go anytime. Take anyone you wish to take.”

“We should take Ray. He’d like the fishing.”

“That’s a good idea,” I reply. I’ve mentioned that to Mr. Bentley earlier.

“How was it for you?” she asks in return. Her question takes me by surprise. 

“Good,” I reply. I had been relaxed and away from stress with my wife. “Real good,” I say, truthfully. I didn't have to worry about her safety. I was with her, and she was compliant for a change.

“You seemed to relax.” I shrug.

“I knew you were safe.”

She frowns at my response. “Christian, I’m safe most of the time. I’ve told you before, you’ll keel over at forty if you keep up this level of anxiety. And I want to grow old and gray with you,” she utters fervently and grasps my hand. I dedicated my life to take care of her, to worry about her, and make her happy. I hold her hand up and kiss her knuckles. It’s my job as her husband.

“How’s your hand?”

“It’s better, thank you.”

I smile in response. “Very good, Mrs. Grey. You ready to face Gia again?” She rolls her eyes. “I might want to keep you out of the way, keep you  safe,” she says smirking.

“Protecting me?” I ask laughing. My wife can be quite the feline when it comes to other women she dislikes.

“As ever, Mr. Grey. From all sexual predators,” she whispers.  

*****  *****

“Miss Matteo is here, sir,” Taylor announces. Anastasia takes a deep breath, straightens, and stands up in her stilettos. My wife is a knockout.

Gia Matteo appears at the entry with a crisp, but nervous smile.

“Good evening Mrs. Grey,” she says and as she shakes Anastasia’s hand, first. My wife is holding her impassive face she’s learned from me.

“Mr. Grey,” she says politely and shakes my hand.

“Gia,” I nod.

“I brought you the updated plans. I’m hoping you like the design,” she says nervously.

I lay the plans out.

“Would you like something to drink Gia?” Anastasia asks placing her wine glass on the table.

“I’ll have what you’re having, Mrs. Grey,” she answers almost submissively to Anastasia. She nods, and heads to the fridge. Grabbing a long stemmed goblet from the cabinet, she places it on the counter, and pours wine into it. I already have mine on the table. Gia Matteo keeps her distance from me, and waits until Anastasia gets back to the dining table area.

As she hands the glass to Gia, Anastasia says, “I saw you in Aspen talking to Elliot yesterday.” Gia’s expression changes to one of shocked.

“Oh... I... What? How? Were you in town?”

“Yes, we all were. Taking a mini vacation, and also celebrating Elliot and Kate’s engagement,” Anastasia says casually taking a sip of her wine as she eyes Gia's reaction.

“Engaged... you say?” Gia says swallowing, trying to hide her shock.

“Surely you must have heard of his girlfriend Katherine Kavanagh. He’s marrying my best friend.”

“Yes, he mentioned that he was in town with his girlfriend, but didn't say anything about the engagement.”

"Well, he couldn't have. He hadn't asked her then. He was ring shopping.”

“He didn't say... I ran into him on the street, but I was there to work on your house plans. I have a cabin in Aspen,” she says in one breath accompanied with a brittle smile.

Leave it to Anastasia to protect her friend. I shake my head imperceptibly, trying to hide my smile as I watch my wife take over Gia Matteo.

Gia shows the changes we've requested, and they turned out to be very nice.

“Ana?” I ask my wife.

“I like them,” she says smiling. I grin in response, and hold my wife’s hand, pulling her closer to me. Gia averts her gaze nervously.

“I’m glad,” she replies.

“I will inform Elliot, and I think he can start stripping the house and remodeling next week,” I add. “Are you completely satisfied, baby?”

“Yes, Christian, I love it. It’s everything I want,” she says giving me a reassuring smile.

“Miss Mateo, your boss, Mrs. Grey, approves your plans. Have the plans sent to Elliot,” I say, still smiling and looking at Anastasia.

“Great!” she says over enthusiastically. She brushes her hair back with her well-manicured fingernails nervously.

“Then, I’ll get going, and prepare them to be sent over to Elliot. Good evening, Mrs. Grey,” she says and shakes Anastasia’s hand. “Good evening, Mr. Grey,” she says and shakes my hand after her. Taylor is already standing by the door to lead Gia out.

*****  *****

The day as well as our mini vacation is over. I put my pajama bottoms on, brush my teeth, and I hear Anastasia chuckle in the bed. But when I walk in, her gaze is locked in the distance skyline of the city of Seattle. She looks lost in thought.

“Everything okay?” I ask as I climb into the bed.

“I’m not looking forward to going back to reality,” she murmurs.

“No?” I ask and she shakes her head in reply. Reaching up, she gently caresses my face with her fingertips. “I had a wonderful weekend. Thank you.”

Her disclosure makes me smile. “You are my reality, Ana,” I murmur and kiss her.

“Do you miss it?” she asks. It seems like she has something in her head. Because I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of a discussion. I don’t know what the topic is, but I’m expected to know about it.

“Miss what?” I ask confused.

“You know. The caning...and stuff,” she whispers embarrassed.

Oh shit! She has been thinking about it since this afternoon. I wondered when it would come up. My gaze is impassive, I stare at her. What is she trying to find out? She saw me swinging the bamboo cane. Fuck! She’s going to say I need someone who can take that shit!

“No Anastasia, I don’t,” I say in a stead, firm and quiet voice. I soften, and lean in caressing her cheek. “Dr. Flynn said something to me when you left, something that’s stayed with me. He said I couldn't be that way if you weren't so inclined. It was a revelation.” I stop and frown. That was one of the ways of expressing myself physically; it was part of a method of sexual gratification for me. “I didn't know any other way, Ana. Now I do. It’s been educational.”

“Me, educate you?” she disdains. But there must be a reason why she is asking this. Am I denying her something she desires? I have to find out. My gaze softens. “Do you miss it?” I ask gently.

Her demeanor changes. “I don’t want you to hurt me, but I like to play, Christian. You know that. If you wanted to do something...” she says shrugging, and gazing at me. Come on, Ana! Something? What is that something?

“Something?” I ask barely containing myself.

“You know, with a flogger or your crop...” she says blushing. I raise my eyebrows in surprise, and then lick my lips with the tip of my tongue.

“Well... we’ll see. Right now, I’d like some good old fashioned vanilla,” I say, and run my thumb over her bottom lip and kiss my wife deeply, and immerse myself in her.

Feel This Moment - Pitbull ft. Christina Aguilera

*****  *****
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Good Morning
Date: August 29, 2011 09:13
To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey

I just wanted to tell you that I love you.
That is all.
Yours Always

A x

Anastasia Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Banishing Monday Blues
Date: August 29, 2011 09:17
To: Anastasia Grey

Mrs. Grey

What gratifying words to hear from one’s wife (errant or not) on a Monday morning.
Let me assure you that I feel exactly the same way. Sorry about the dinner this evening. I hope it won’t be too tedious for you.


Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Ships that pass in the night
Date: August 29, 2011 09:25
To: Christian Grey Dear

Mr. Grey

I am sure you can think of a way to spice up the dinner...
Yours in anticipation

Mrs. G. x Anastasia (non-errant) Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Variety is the Spice of Life
Date: August 29, 2011 09:34
To: Anastasia Grey

Mrs. Grey

I have a few ideas  .  .  .

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Now Impatient for the ***ASA Dinner Inc.
***(ASA was dissolved effective December 31, 2010. The association didn't exist in 2011. ASA represented the largest U.S. Navy shipbuilders and had six shipyard members plus over 100 supplier members. But I’m going to pretend they existed at the time- they really were stuffed shirts)
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Last night
Date: August 30, 2011 09:23
To: Anastasia Grey

Was... fun. Who would have thought the ***ASA annual dinner could be so stimulating?
As ever, you never disappoint, Mrs. Grey.
I love you.

Christian Grey
In awe, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: I love a good ball game....
Date: August 30, 2011 09:32
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

I have missed the silver balls.
You never disappoint.
That is all.
Mrs. G.

Anastasia Grey 
Commissioning Editor, SIP
The workday is nearly over. My intercom buzzes.

“Mr. Grey, Mr. Welch is on line with an urgent message for you sir,” Andrea says.

“Put him through.” What urgent message could it be?

“Mr. Grey, I have news for you.”

“I’m listening,” I reply in an inscrutable voice.

“Hyde’s attorney has put several requests for a bail, but your lawyers informed me that all his efforts were thwarted. He’s remanded in custody,” Welch says. I let out a breath slowly I didn't know I was holding.

“I’m glad to hear that the fucker is still behind bars. How could he think that he deserves to be free, or he'd be granted bail for that matter?”

“Well, the pre-trial detention differs from post-adjudicatory detention, sir. So far, he’s innocent until proven guilty in the eyes of the law.”

“Except that he isn't innocent! Breaking and entering, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder... What else do they need?”

“I couldn't agree more with you, sir. But, his attorney argues that detention without trial violates the rule of law. He’s bringing up the fact that Hyde came from a disadvantaged background, but rose up to the challenge, and graduated from Princeton; a feat very few people accomplishes whether they come from money or not, and he was the Commissioning Editor at a respectable publishing company until he was fired. His prior criminal record is sealed which cannot be brought up against him. We know the signs of his reputation; however, no one wants to say anything negative that might hurt him. Those are strong items that may be seen in his favor. But, your lawyers have managed to block every attempt to get him out of jail.”

“They fucking better! Isn't he charged already?”

“Yes, that’s the good news. He’s been charged with attempted kidnapping and arson, sir.”

“That's it? Does he have public defense?”
“Yes, sir, that's it. And he is using the public defense. But, Hyde is a smart boy, I don’t want him to blindside us. I have eyes and ears inside the jail, and I hear that he’s been studying up. He’s apparently going to file a writ of habeas corpus.”

“What? How could he do that? How could he be allowed to do that? Is he trying to say that his detention is lacking sufficient cause or evidence?”

“Well, in simple terms, yes. That’s what he’s trying to say. He is adamantly claiming his innocence, and that he was the victim,” Welch says, and I curse my epitaph under my breath. Fucker!

“What about any accomplices?”

“He’s being tight lipped. If he says anything, he’d be incriminating himself, and he’s being smart, and silent about that.”

“Well, did he file his petition yet?”

“Of Habeas corpus? No, not yet, sir. And so far, he’s remanded into custody. When that happens your lawyers will kill the request, sir.”

“Tell them not to fuck it up! I want him in jail permanently. Understood? If he makes another attempt to bail, or habeas corpus, I want to be informed immediately.”

“Clearly, sir,” Welch says, and I hang up. I take a deep breath and type an e-mail to Anastasia.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Hyde
Date: September 1, 2011 15: 24
To: Anastasia Grey


For your information, Hyde has been refused bail and remanded in custody.
He’s charged with attempted kidnap and arson. As yet no date has been set for the trial.

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Hyde
Date: September 1, 2011 15:52
To: Christian Grey

That’s good news.
Does this mean you’ll lighten up on security?
I really don’t see eye to eye with Prescott.
Ana x

Anastasia Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP

Oh, Anastasia! You’ll be the death of me. I can’t lighten up the security with the fucker is doing all his finagling in the jail, and we have no idea who his accomplices are, if any. I cannot take a chance on her security! If she doesn’t like Prescott, I’ll get her a new security, but she isn't getting out of them. Honestly, she’s like a little kid sometimes!
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Hyde
Date: September 1, 2011 15:58
To: Anastasia Grey

No. Security will remain in place. No arguments.
What’s wrong with Prescott? If you don’t like her, we’ll replace her.

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Keep your hair on!
Date: September 1, 2011 16:02
To: Christian Grey

I was just asking (rolls eyes). And I’ll think about Prescott.
Stow that twitchy palm!
Ana x

Anastasia Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Don’t tempt me.
Date: September 1, 2011 16:10
To: Anastasia Grey

 I can assure you, Mrs. Grey, that my hair is very firmly attached— has this not been demonstrated often enough by your good self?
My palm, however, is twitching.
I might do something about that tonight.

Christian Grey
Not bald yet CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
 From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Squirm
Date: September 1, 2011 16:19
To: Christian Grey

Promises, promises...
Now stop pestering me. I am trying to work; I have an impromptu meeting with an author. Will try not to be distracted by thoughts of you during the meeting.

A x

Anastasia Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP

Mrs. Grey, I think you've been craving my spanking. Tonight then... I can’t wait!

*****  *****

It would be nice
In any case,
To someday meet you
Face to face
Walking down
The road to hell...
As I come up
Feeling swell.

Langston Hughes

The man walks into the restaurant with sure steps. It’s plush, upscale, and busy. The hostess immediately runs to the dark haired man with piercing blue eyes dressed in an expensive Brioni suit with a tall stature.

“How may I help you sir? Do you have...” she says stuttering. He looks very much in control, and commanding. She swallows and lifts her gaze up to him. “Do you have a reservation? Are you expecting company?”

“I’m meeting someone here,” says the man in a deep baritone voice. “My associate is already here.”

“Oh, perfect sir. If you give me the name of your associate, I’d be more than happy to take you to her?” That came out wrong. She didn't mean it like a question. But the man is very distracting. Very predatory, as if he’s ready to pounce, his gaze is fixed on her, looking at her as if she’s wasting his time. This never happened to her before. She is a beautiful girl, some would call her a knockout. Nearly every guest takes a second look at her. But this man is like a lion dressed in an expensive suit. He is alluring, but his gaze instills fear in her immediately. She lowers her eyes, unable to look. Why is it so hard to look at his piercing, forbidding gaze? It appears as if he’s talking to her with his eyes. She blinks, and averts her eyes.

“I know exactly where he is, and who he is. I will find him.”

“As you wish sir,” she replies in a soft voice that she didn't think she possessed.

He lifts the intensity of his gaze away from her, and walks into a private room reserved for the VIPs. He doesn’t knock on the door. He walks in, and the man in an off the rack $3500 charcoal, sophisticated Armani suit with matching charcoal shirt and black tie stands up sure of himself -- to the untrained eye. But he’s not untrained. He has expensive, singular, possessive tastes. His associate is wearing his suit to serve as a psychological armor. Of course he would. He does have the physical need of it. The man in the Brioni suit with controlling gaze looks over the man he's meeting surreptitiously. He's an accomplished lawyer with an undefeated record, serving the rich and guilty. He's served him in the past very well. Especially when he beat her an inch of her life. To cover his tracks, to keep his name in the clear, and untarnished. He was of course anything, but. 

Of course the lawyer had to have the layers of armor in the guise of an off the rack Armani suit and John Lobb loafers to look powerful, wealthy and commanding. He didn't have it in him to be what he is which is why the other man required layers of classy clothes, giving the illusion of power. He was still a thug in thousand Dollar shoes and an Ivy League education. But the man in Brioni didn't have contempt for him. He was a tool for means to an end. Fortunately, he doesn’t have that kind of need, but then again, he would never wear a suit, designer or otherwise off the rack. Indeed, he likes to splurge on his custom made apparel. He likes everything to fit his tastes. He does not like the conformity.

“Mr. Lincoln, nice--” the man in off the rack suit says as he extends his hand, but custom made suit cuts him off.

“No names. You may refer me as ‘Sir’, here, Albert,” he says in an unmistakably superior, authoritative and imperious voice.

“Nice to see you---Sir,” says Albert awkwardly.

Sit,” Lincoln orders emphasizing the letter S, and Albert, a middle aged man with an important social standing in the law circles in Seattle who thought he was in charge of a place, or a court case at all times because of his undefeated record in the courtroom, finds himself obeying, and sitting down, like a heeled puppy. That surprises him immensely.

He clears his throat.

“I have wine here, and we can call the server to order your food, if you wish,” he says not knowing what else to say to Lincoln. Albert feels Lincoln's gaze peeling him layer by layer. It’s intense, commanding, and silently demanding.

“May I ask, why you summoned me here—uhm, Sir?”

Lincoln inserts his hand into his navy blue Brioni suit jacket, and brings out a piece of paper. It’s a printed piece of news article from the Seattle Times.

Seattle Times
August 27th, 2011

The penthouse of one of Seattle’s wealthiest men, second only to Bill Gates has been invaded by a man named Jack Hyde who has been identified as the former boss of the young wife of Mr. Christian Grey. The unnamed source at the Police Department confirms that he was at the premises to kidnap Mrs. Anastasia Grey for ransom. Mr. Jack Hyde has also been identified as the perpetrator who tried to set fire to Christian Grey’s powerhouse, The Grey House’s server room in downtown Seattle. The fire has been suppressed immediately by the company’s state of the art fire suppression system, and Hyde’s attempt to kidnap Mrs. Grey luckily has been averted by Mr. Grey’s private security detail. Our source also tells us that Mr. Hyde acquired a van to kidnap Mrs. Grey and the evidence inside the vehicle suggests that he possibly intended to rape her. The evidence of unnamed materials to aid him in this attempted crime has been collected by the Crime Scene Investigators of the Seattle Police Department. The police are being silent about the details and no official reports have been released by the police department, or the GEH, yet.

Hyde is currently in police custody, and all attempts for bail have so far been denied.

Albert blinks. He scratches his designer cut, salt and pepper hair with his left hand not understanding the meaning behind this article.

“Am I missing something here --- Sir?”

“I want this man named here, Jack Hyde to be released on bail. I want the bail to be made anonymously. I don't want any visible money trail or ties to me. But I want you to make every effort to free him. Do not show any evidence that you, or I had anything to do with it.”

Albert swallows.

“But—Sir! He tried to kidnap Christian Grey’s wife! Certainly I wouldn't want a man like Grey as my enemy!”

Lincoln sits back in his seat confidently, his arms crossed, controlled and closed to his antagonist.

“Hence the need for anonymity!” he says raising his eyebrows. “And, when have you grown morals and a conscience? I know that you worked tirelessly to free one of the top men of the  Mexican Cartel. They carry guns, and have no qualms about killing anyone. They are notorious about getting their dues back with interest," he says as he gently swats away an unseen piece of dust from  the arm of his jacket. He then lifts and focuses the intensity of his gaze on the lawyer, and continues, "Grey on the other hand is notoriously anti-gun.”

“It will be an expensive endeavor—Sir,” Albert says uncomfortably, but pleased with the prospect of making a large sum of cash. This would be very profitable, indeed. Enough to buy a condo for the blonde he’s been eyeing for some time... a sweet, busty diversion.

“I understand that. I’m willing to pay your price, granted that the bail goes through in your earliest convenience. You have ways to do it... Employ them...” he orders in a firm, unequivocally decided voice.

“How do you wish to pay?”

“Cash. Always cash. But if you don’t deliver,” he says with a menacing smile as he leans in to Albert’s personal space, “I will make sure your body is never found,” in a soft, yet clearly threatening voice. 

Albert gained some of his composure and sat back. "Are you implying threat?"

Lincoln straightens his back, fixes his gaze on Albert, and his cool smile disappears. "I'm sorry. Was I being unclear? There is no implication. I am giving you an outright promise. Surely you must know what that's your line of business," he says raising his eyebrows. 

Albert clears his throat after the confirmed threat. Wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead with the cloth napkin. Composes himself again, and nods his acquiescence. 

The lawyer is back on track, and under his full control again. He is going to make Grey suffer... Suffer in the worst way, losing what he loved right out under him. Grey fucked his wife for years. It serves him right that someone else fucks his wife. Punishes him for his transgressions, moving in on another man's territory. It was of course outside of the fact that he didn't really love Elena. He just possessed her. But that is beside the point. He needs to get his dues paid back to him. Revenge is a dish best served cold. If along the way, Hyde didn't fuck up again, he should manage to fuck, and if he's lucky kill the bastard's wife. Yes, eye for an eye. Serves him right. The prospect of inflicting agony in Grey's heart, the thought of making him suffer excites him immensely. He is aroused.

"Soon then. And when you get him out of jail, deliver him this message."

"What's the message -- Sir?"

"Finish what you started, and you shall be rewarded," he says with a satisfied smile. 

Man Down - Rihanna