Yet leave me not; yet, if thou
wilt, be free;
Love me no more, but love my love of thee.*
Love me no more, but love my love of thee.*
CHAPTER XIII
*
Algernon Charles Swinburne (from his poem – EROTION)
Anastasia turns
and asks me if I talked to Elena today.
“Yes,” I reply.
“What did you
say?” she asks curiously. It’s not necessary to tell her how furious I was with
Elena; because I don’t want to further feed her anger towards Elena.
“I said that you
didn’t want to see her, and told her that I understood your reasons. I also
made it clear to her that I didn’t appreciate her going behind my back to
contact you,” I tell her with an impassive face. I am nervous at how she might
react, because when Elena’s name comes up, Anastasia reacts as if she stepped
on live wire.
“She brushed it
off like Elena would,” I say. It is true that Elena did try to brush it off,
but I was already having a very shitty day thanks to Anastasia here, so, Elena
actually got stuck in the shit storm coming from me. Anastasia’s eyes
scrutinize my face. My lips give the smallest crook which doesn’t translate
into a smile, but then she has this effect on me which makes me want to grin at
her most the time.
“Why do you
think she’s here now?” she asks concerned that maybe this has something to do
with my conversation with her. I’m wondering that too.
“I have actually
no idea,” I say shrugging.
Taylor comes
back into the living room with Elena in tow, and he announces “Mrs. Lincoln.” I
don’t think Taylor likes Elena, being the professional he is, he doesn’t give
much away.
Elena is in her
usual all black attire: black jeans that are just like a second skin on her
legs, a black body hugging shirt, and her signature well groomed blonde
hair.
As Elena enters
into the room, I automatically pull Anastasia into my arms protectively; ready
to shield her from anyone who dares to come in her proximity. “Elena,” I greet
her, still puzzled with her presence here. She must have assumed that what she
had witnessed before a show before, because when she sees my arms all wrapped
around Anastasia her mouth drops open, and in fact I see Taylor gleefully
restraining himself from helping her lift her jaw off the floor as he’s exiting
the door. He’s amused I notice, and frankly, so am I. Elena manages to blink
herself into her I’m-now-back-in-control face and softens her voice couple of
notches.
“I’m sorry
Christian. I didn’t realize you had company with you. It is Monday,” she says as
if this will explain her visit. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,
Saturday, and Sunday: Anastasia is my girlfriend 24/7 around the clock. So,
Monday wouldn’t make a jack shit difference. Anastasia is not my sub! But I
have the greatest pleasure of announcing her that Anastasia is my “Girlfriend.”
Saying that out loud to her in Anastasia and Elena’s presence gives me great
pleasure, and I smirk. Of course Elena
smiles back, and only at me.
“Of course,
Christian. Hello, Anastasia. I didn’t know you’d be here. I know you don’t want
to talk to me and I accept that,” she says to Ana.
“Do you?” asks
Anastasia quietly, in a cold steady tone, her gaze is boring into Elena. Her
completely in control demeanor takes me by surprise, and I think Elena is shocked
as well because she takes a few steps back as if she’s shoved away.
“Yes, I get the
message. I’m not here to see you. As I said, Christian rarely has company
during the week,” she says, and explains, “I have a problem, and I would like
to talk to Christian about it.”
This is news,
and actually a welcome distraction with her friction between Anastasia.
“Really?” I ask my curiosity piqued. “Do you want a drink?” I ask finding my
manners after scolding her today.
“Yes, please,”
she replies with a welcome sound. She must have thought I was going to kick her
out. I walk to get her a drink, grab some wine glasses while leaving Anastasia
and Elena alone in the living room for a minute. Elena finally walks to the
kitchen island, and sits on the bar stool where she usually claims her seat.
When I turn with glasses and bottle of wine, Anastasia scoots on the bar stool I
vacated. I put a glass before Elena and Anastasia and pour them wine.
“What’s up?” I
ask Elena without a preamble.
Elena is
nervous, because she wants privacy, and Anastasia’s presence is unwelcome for
her. She doesn’t have to say in words; I know Elena so well, I can read the
thought in her face no matter how hard she tries to hide it. It’s time to nip
it in the bud. She needs to understand that Anastasia isn’t a sub; she isn’t
ordinary. She’s my girlfriend. I reach out to Anastasia’s hand and clasp it
before Elena’s widening gaze. There’s no one like Anastasia; no one is her equal in my eyes. (←No One Like You by
Scorpions)
“Anastasia’s
with me now,” I say to her in a tone she understands well: Deal with it!
Anastasia’s eyes widen, grateful. Elena’s face changes into a soft tone. She
was the first one to tell me I was in love with Anastasia. It is that look that
says she’s pleased and happy for me. Anastasia flushes.
Elena finally
nods, accepting. Because my words, demeanor and stance all indicate to her that
she either speaks to me in Anastasia’s presence or she can leave. I want
Anastasia to see that I have nothing to hide from her. Elena looks very
nervous. She starts looking at her hands, and starts twisting the silver ring
on her middle finger over and over again like it will provide her the answer
she is seeking. I haven’t seen like this often – Elena, not knowing what to do
about something. She’s always in control, always cool, calm, and collected. After
fidgeting her in her seat a little more, she figures out that the silver ring
in her middle finger won’t be providing her with the answers she’s seeking; she
finally lifts her head up, assumes her ‘in-control’ of her emotions demeanor
and looks at me squarely in the eye.
“I’m being
blackmailed,” she states flatly. About what? But, I have a feeling of what it might be about. I stiffen immediately. The only thing that is against her is what she
had with me. Her lifestyle is not illegal... but yet, she wouldn’t want to make
it public...
“How?” I ask
with horror clearly lacing my voice.
Elena reaches
into her Louis Vuitton bag a takes out a note and tries to hand it to me. I
shake my head.
“No, put it
down, and lay it out on the breakfast counter,” I say surprising Elena.
“You don’t want
to touch it?” she asks confused.
“Of course not.
Fingerprints,” I say by the way of explanation.
“But, Christian,
you know I can’t go to police with this,” she says. She opens up the note and I
lean down to read it. But the amount they’re asking for surprises me.
“They’re only
asking for five thousand Dollars. Do you have any idea who it might be? Maybe
someone in the community?” I ask Elena.
“No idea,” she
answers softly.
“Could it be
Linc?” I ask indicating her ex-husband, who after all beat the shit out of her
after he discovered her illicit affair with me.
“What? After all
this time? I don’t think so,” she says grouchily.
“How about Isaac
– does he know?” I ask about her current submissive.
“I haven’t told
him,” she replies.
“I think he
needs to know,” I respond, because if Elena’s lifestyle is going to be laid
bare, so would Isaac’s. He has a right to know. Elena shakes her head.
Anastasia tries to pull her hand away from me. Why? Is she mad? I hold it
tighter, unwilling to let it go. She pulls again. I grasp once more in a tight
hold and turn to look at her questioning.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m tired,
Christian. I think I’ll go to bed,” she says. I assess her face. Is she angry?
Sad? Hostile? Accepting? Her face is impassive, expressionless, but her eyes
contain just the trace amount of jealousy.
“Okay. I won’t
be long,” I say reassuring her, I release her hand. Anastasia stands up to go
to the bedroom, and Elena follows her movements with wary eyes, but Anastasia
says nothing.
“Goodnight,
Anastasia,” says Elena with a polite smile.
“Goodnight,”
grumbles Anastasia in a forced, cold voice as if she’s radiating tension.
That’s what she’s been hiding behind the impassive face.
When Anastasia
leaves the room, I turn to Elena and tell her exactly what is going through my
mind.
“I don’t think
there’s a great deal I can do, Elena. If it’s a question of money...” I say the
thought hanging in the air. It’s not a lot of money to begin with as they’re
asking only five thousand dollars. Is this someone’s idea of a joke, or are
they trying to taunt her? “I could ask Welch to investigate this,” I say, and
this is the best I can do for this problem.
“No need,
Christian. I just wanted to share,” she says. Of course she’s got a name to
protect. But what she says next changes the topic.
“You look...”
she says pausing as if to find the right words to say to me, “look very happy.”
That about sums it.
“Yes, I am,” I
reply truthfully.
“You deserve to
be happy,” she says.
“I wish it were
true,” I say sadly. Her face changes to one of patronizing.
“Christian! Does
she know how negative you are about yourself?” she asks scolding. “About all
your issues...” she adds raising her eyebrows significantly. But it is more
than a question. It’s a challenge. Is Anastasia just a sexual partner, or more?
“She knows me
better than anyone,” I say to let her make the distinction on her own.
“Ouch! That
hurts,” she comments. I was right; she was indicating that she knew me better
than anyone else.
“It’s the plain
truth Elena. I don’t have to play games with her. And I mean it; you need to
leave her alone,” I say boring into her eyes, drilling this.
“What’s her
problem?” she asks as if there is something wrong with Anastasia for not
wanting to hang out with her and swap recipes – if Elena cooked that is.
“You are...What
we were...what we did. She doesn’t understand that.”
“Then make her
understand, Christian,” she insists. The audacity!
“Elena, that’s
the past. Why would I want to make her understand and taint her with our
fuckedup relationship? Anastasia isn’t like that – she’s incredibly sweet, and
good,” I say and sigh with an immediate longing for her though she’s in the
same house. That doesn’t escape Elena’s shrewd gaze. And still in awe of the
fact of Anastasia’s love for me, I add, “and by some miracle she loves me.” And I’m head over heels in love with her! (←Head Over Heels by Fears For Fears)
“It is no
miracle Christian,” Elena chides me. “You really have to have a little faith in
yourself. You truly are quite a catch. I’ve told you this often,” she says and
looks in the direction of my bedroom. “Anastasia seems lovely too. She seems
strong,” she says probably remembering how Anastasia gave her what’s for in the
fundraising. “She seems like someone to stand up to you.”
I smile at how she
drove me crazy all day, going toe to toe with me. Standing up to me? She’s a
life force to be reckoned with.
“Yes, she’s
large and in charge.”
“Don’t you miss
it?” Elena asks raising her eyebrows.
“What?” I snap.
“Your playroom,”
she asks. Why would she ask about that, and why the fuck is this any of her
business?
“That is really
none of your fucking business, Elena,” I snap at her, my eyes going dark. She’s
trying to take charge of my life, and I don’t like it one bit. She retreats
right away.
“I’m sorry,” she
says in the most insincere fashion. She’s just testing her boundaries like a
predator. Checking for that chink in the armor. I have to nip it in the bud.
“I think you had
better go. And from now on, please call before you come again,” I glare at her
wanting her to leave.
“I really am
sorry, Christian,” she says this time finally meaning what she says. “Since
when are you so sensitive?” she censures me. This has gone far enough. I don’t
want Elena talking about Anastasia as if she’s a sub, or as if she’s someone
who can be replaced. My playroom is not more important than Anastasia. She’s
the most important thing in my life!
“Elena, what you
and I have now is a business relationship which clearly has profited both of us
immensely. Let’s just keep it that way. What we had,” I say emphasizing
in the past tense, “between us is now part of the past. Anastasia is my future.
I won’t jeopardize it in anyway, so cut the fucking crap!” I say making it
clear that Anastasia is her off limits.
“I see,” she
says blandly, but these two words have finally the understanding what I have
been trying to drill into her all along.
“Look... I’m
sorry for your current trouble. Maybe you should just ride it out and call them
on their bluff,” I say softening blow. But Elena’s mind is elsewhere.
“I don’t want to
lose you Christian,” she says softly. Is she coming on to me?
“I’m not yours
to lose Elena!” I snap, seething with anger.
“That’s not what
I meant,” she tries to correct herself, but I know Elena all too well.
“What did you
mean then? Enlighten me,” I say my anger not receding.
“Look Christian,
I’m not going to argue with you. Your friendship means a lot to me. I’ll back
off from Anastasia, but I’m here for you if you need me,” she says looking into
my eyes intently. “I always will be,” she adds firmly.
“Anastasia
thinks that you saw me last Saturday,” I say remembering that Elena lied to
her. “You just called, that’s all. Why did you tell her otherwise?” I probe.
“I only wanted
her to know how upset you were when she left you. I don’t want her to hurt
you,” she says.
“She knows. I’ve
told her about it. Stop interfering in my relationship. God, you’re like a
mother hen,” I say exasperated.
“I know, and I’m
sorry about that. You must know I care about you. I never thought you’d end up
falling in love Christian. But it is very gratifying to see. On the other hand,
I couldn’t bear to see if she hurt you,” she says concern lacing her voice.
“I’ll take my
chances,” I say still not willing to let her butt in. “Now, are you sure you
don’t want Welch to sniff around this?”
“I guess it
wouldn’t do any harm,” she says sighing.
“Alright. I’ll
call Welch in the morning,” I say getting up, wanting her to leave.
“Thank you
Christian,” she says, getting up. “And, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.
I’ll go now, and next time I’ll call,” she adds.
“Good,” I say
firmly.
I lead Elena out
of the penthouse, and make my way back to my bedroom hastily, concerned about
Anastasia. When I get back to my bedroom Anastasia is sitting on my bed.
“She’s gone,” I
say softly and warily, trying to assess what she’s thinking. Is she mad?
She looks up at
me, and what she says surprises me. “Will you tell me about her? I’m just
trying to comprehend why you think she helped you,” she says, and pauses before
she completes her thought. “I do loathe her, Christian. I believe she caused
you untold damage. You have no friends; did she keep them away from you?” she
asks.
Two exasperating
women in one night are too much to handle. I run my hand through my hair; I
just want to groan! Argh!
“Why the fuck do
you want to know about her?” I say angrily. “We had a very long standing
affair, she beat the shit out of me very often, and I fucked her in all sorts
of ways you can’t even imagine. That’s the end of the story,” I say in one
breath, getting angrier by the minute.
Blood drains out
of Anastasia’s face. She swallows. She’s surprised and blinks. “Why are you so
angry at me?”
“Because all
that shit is OVER!” I shout at her angrily, willing her to fucking understand.
Fuck! I’m losing it with her! She blanches, checking out. She looks down at her
hands, so tightly knotted, blood draining out of them, paling. I don’t want to
hide anything from her. I just don’t want her to focus on my past too much
which she clearly hates.
I finally calm
down, and sit beside her. “What do you want to know?” I ask warily.
She shakes her
head withdrawn, “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to
intrude,” she says softly.
It’s not about intrusion;
it’s how my past and my future is crashing into each other, and I’m the one who
is going to get hurt in this collision, possibly by losing her.
“It’s not that
Anastasia. I really hate talking about this shit, because I’ve lived in a
bubble for years with nothing affecting me. I didn’t have to justify myself to
anyone. And, Elena has been there as a confidante. But now my past and my
future are colliding in a way I never thought possible,” I say, emotionally
exhausted. Her gaze comes up to meet my wary eyes.
“I never thought
I would have a future with anyone, Anastasia. Yet, you give me hope and have me
thinking about all sorts of possibilities,” I say drifting. Some of which I
don’t have the heart to convey to her. It’s beyond living together. It’s more...like in the line of forever. (←Colorblind by
Counting Crows)
“I was
listening,” she says embarrassed, staring back down to her hands.
“Listening to
what? You mean to our conversation?” I ask.
“Yes,” she
replies softly.
“Well?” I ask
finally resigned. What did she think of what she heard?
“She cares for
you,” Anastasia concludes.
“Yes, I believe
she does. I for her in my own way, but that doesn’t come close to how I feel
about you at all. If this is what this is about...” I say thinking she’s
jealous, and it’s not all unwelcome. I like her being jealous of me.
“I’m not
jealous,” she states, unsure of her thoughts. “You don’t love her,” she
murmurs. Is this a question that’s bugging her? It must be.
I sigh, getting
angry. It’s my fucking past! I can’t change it! It happened; I lived it, now
I’m over it. I’m with her now! Doesn’t that count for something?
“A long time
ago, I thought I loved her,” I say baring my fucking soul through my gritted
teeth. She is surprised with this statement.
“But, when we
were in Georgia...” she says slowly, scared to find out what I might say, “you
said you didn’t love her.”
“That’s right,”
I answer. But my answer gives her a confused frown.
“I loved you
then Anastasia,” I whisper. Does she not know how much? “You’re the only person
I’d fly three thousand miles to see,” I state fervently. Not Elena, not someone
else. Just Anastasia! Her frown deepens, not understanding.
“Everything I
feel for you is very different than any feeling I ever had for Elena,” I
explain.
“When did you
know?” she asks. I shrug.
“Ironically,
Elena pointed that out to me. In fact she encouraged me to go to Georgia,” I
tell her. She shakes her head. Her hands runs through her face as if to wash
off some unsavory thought from her mind finally her fingers clasp each other
firmly on her lap. She swallows nervously.
“So you desired
her when you were younger?”
“Yes,”
I reply, and her face falls.
“She taught me a
great deal. She taught me to believe in myself,” I explain. We live what we have
to at a time, and that’s what I had when I was younger; a fucked up teen wallowed
up and drowning in my own issues, unable to find the shore - and Elena simply
showed me the way to it in her fucked up way. I believe there is an old eastern
proverb to explain this well: Those who fall into the ocean, hang onto a snake
if they must to stay afloat.
“But she also
beat the shit out of you,” Anastasia says disapprovingly.
Somehow the
thought of it makes me happy, and I smile fondly of the memory. Because I was
an arrogant, trouble making teen that needed to be beat at the time. “Yes, she
did,” I reply.
“And you liked
that?” she asks incredulous.
“At the time I
did,” I reply.
“Huh,” says
Anastasia with surprise. “So much so that you wanted to do it to others?” she
asks.
Her assessment
is correct. I want to be honest with her, but my eyes grow wide with wariness,
and I am serious now, “Yes,” I respond quietly.
“Did she help
you with that?” she probes further. Does she really want to find that out?
“Yes,” I reply.
“Did she sub for
you?” She asks as her gaze is locked on
mine, not missing one single expression.
“Yes,” I respond
without breaking my gaze.
A breath escapes
her as if she’s punched. “Do you expect me to like her?” she asks in a frail
voice, bitterly.
“No, of course
not. Although, it’d make my life a hell of a lot easier,” I say, though I don’t
know if I like the idea. “But I understand your reticence.”
She snaps at my
statement.
“Reticence! Good
God, Christian! What if that was your own son-how would that make you feel?”
What? No one
forced me to be with her! I didn’t have to stay... I made the choice. I blink
at her confused.
“I didn’t have
to stay with Elena,” I say frowning. “It way my own choice too, Anastasia,” I
murmur. I even liked it at the time.
Anastasia shakes
her head sadly.
“Who’s Linc?”
she asks.
“He’s her
ex-husband,” I reply.
“Lincoln
Timber?”
“The very same,”
I reply smirking.
“And who is
Isaac?”
“Isaac is
Elena’s current submissive.”
Anastasia’s face
takes the shape of someone who is horrified. She’s thinking that it’s another
teen Elena got her claws into.
“Isaac is in his
mid-twenties, Anastasia. You know, a consenting adult,” I quickly add for her
to get her mind out of the disgusted thoughts about Elena.
She turns puce,
“he’s your age,” she says with realization.
We are going
nowhere with this. Clearly where Elena is concerned, all Anastasia sees is red,
and a monster. “Look, Anastasia... Like I said to Elena earlier, she’s part of
my past, but you are my future. Don’t let Elena come between us please! And
frankly, I’m quite bored” maybe tired, “of this subject. I’m going to do some
work,” I say standing up. Fucking visit from Elena dampened everyone’s mood. I
gaze down at her, “Let it go, please,” I say softly.
She stubbornly
stares at me. This isn’t going to be the last of this topic, will it? Heaven
forbid!
“Oh, I almost
forgot to tell you. Your new car has arrived a day earlier. It’s parked in the
garage. Taylor has the key to it.” She lights up with the news.
“Can I drive it
to work tomorrow?” she asks.
“No,” I respond
firmly. Not till Leila problem is resolved.
“Why ever not?”
she asks.
“You know why
not Anastasia. That incidentally reminds me. From now on, if you’re going to
leave your office for any reason, let me know. Sawyer was there watching you.
It appears that I can’t trust you to look after yourself at all,” I say
scowling. She’s on the receiving end of scrutiny for a change this evening.
She stares back
at me without blinking. “Clearly, I can’t trust either. You could have told me
that Sawyer was watching me,” she mutters.
“What? Do you
want to fight about that topic too?” I snap at her.
“I didn’t know
we were fighting, Christian. I just thought we were communicating,” she mumbles
irritably.
Christ! Give me
strength! She pushes all my buttons all
at the same time! I close my eyes trying to rein in my temper.
Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one... Breathe
in...Breathe out. When I open my eyes again, Anastasia is watching me anxiously. (←The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson)
“I have to
work,” I say quietly, and leave the room. I can’t take any more arguments
tonight.
Instead of
having mind-blowing sex with my very hot, very loquacious, stubborn as a
Missouri mule mutinous girlfriend, I am now forced to read Mr. Ipkins’ report
on emerging markets. What an evening!
I walk into my
office sulkily, and sit in my chair. I open the message from Ros and start
going over the report. I’ve already gone over the report on China. Now, I read
the one about Russia.
The report
starts with top industries in Russia:
Oil
and Gas Extraction
Support
Activities for Mining
Metal
Ore Mining
Electric
Power Generation, Transmission and Distribution
Motor
Vehicle Manufacturing
Machinery,
Equipment and Supplies
Banking
and Credit Intermediation
Rail
Transportation
Pesticide,
Fertilizer and Other Agricultural Chemical Manufacturing
Then it goes on
listing the top companies in Russia.
The summary
finally goes on recapping everything that’s been said. “Russian economy is
the world’s ninth largest by nominal GDP and sixty largest by purchasing power
parity, and it’s the third largest nominal military budget. It is one of the
world’s fastest growing major economies. The country has a market economy with
its enormous natural resources, particularly in oil and natural gasses. The
country has ended its ninth straight year of growth averaging 7%...”
My mind isn’t
focusing, but I must. I have to clear the shit from this evening without going
crazy. What better way to do it if not reading about the world’s emerging
markets? I immerse myself for the next two hours reading about country after
country. By the time I’m done going over the report, it’s passed midnight. My
mind is clear of the clutter of the early evening, and I miss Anastasia.
Suddenly I feel
the urge to hold her in my arms, and kiss her. I turn my laptop off and make my
way into my bedroom. Anastasia isn’t here. Oh shit! Where could she have gone?
The first thing that comes to my mind is that she’s taken off, and left me. Of
course she would! I’d never forgive myself for the way I left the room, telling
her I’m bored of talking to her about Elena! The truth of the matter is I’m
scared of talking about my past...scared to the core. There is a lot of shit I
want to hide from Anastasia. Why would she want me if she uncovered them? Find
out what a nasty fucking son-of-a-crack-whore I was! Why would she want to have anything to do with me? (←If You Go Away by
Julio Iglesias)
The clothes she
had earlier are lying on the bed. I look around; check the closet. Nothing
seems out of order. Oh shit! She probably got so mad, and changed into jeans
and a t-shirt, and took off! As I stand in the closet nervous as hell, I take
my Blackberry out. With shaky fingers I press the speed dial #1. I hear “Your
Love is King” playing in... my bedroom? I walk back into the bedroom, and
retrieve her Blackberry from her purse. Yep, I’m calling her...her personal
belongings including her purse and Blackberry are here. Dumbstruck, I
disconnect my phone.
Where could she
have gone? If she left the purse and phone here, she couldn’t have gone far.
Well, maybe not the phone. She left her phone here with me when she first left
me. Maybe she just wants to be away from me tonight... Maybe she just got very
mad after the whole shitty day, Elena showing up, and me scolding her over
Elena inquisition. I run to see if she’s in her former room. The room is tidy
as if no one has touched it. The bed is made and clear. White sheets and cover
are crisp as the time Mrs. Jones laid them there. The room is devoid of
anything of Anastasia. Let alone her presence, not even her scent is here. My
heart is thumping. I run to the playroom, but the door isn’t open. The only
other place she could go is the library and I make my way into the library
nervously. If she isn’t there, I have to get Taylor and the security detail. My
mind is going crazy! I just fucking remembered that the balcony door was open
in my bedroom.
I run back to
the bedroom, and check the balcony door that is still gaping open like an
ominous question. Fuck! Did Leila come and take Anastasia? How did I not notice
that? My hands rush to my face, and I cup my face in my hands forcefully
running them through my hair. But, Anastasia’s clothes are on the bed. Would
Leila make her change her clothes to take her? That doesn’t make sense. My
heart is thumping. I have one more place to check. Let me see the library. If
she’s not there, then I’ll allow myself to panic. I run top speed to the
library, which of course doesn’t take long.
I swing the door open, and close my eyes in utter and complete relief.
The sight before me gives me peace along with contentment. Thank God!
Anastasia is
curled up in an overstuffed chair with Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier, one of the
many first edition books I have. She’s wearing a pale pink satin long nightgown
with a matching robe. She looks like an angel who fell asleep. Sexy, beguilingly
innocent, and just lovely. All I want to do is to go and hold her in my arms.
Scared of waking
up, I walk near her. I slowly take the book out of her hands. My eyes drift
into the page, and I look up at her as my breath catches with the line capturing
my eyes, I sag into the nearest chair:
“I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever
of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say.”
Is this what
this is? Fever of first love? Is it what’s driving me insanely jealous and
crazy? As I sit in the opposite chair and watch Anastasia, all curled in on
herself, innocent; I realize that she looks even younger, childish even now
that she’s asleep.
I flip the pages
of the book slowly. Another line strikes me right in my core: “I suppose sooner or later in the life of
everyone comes a moment of trial. We, all of us have our particular devil who
rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end.” Is my battle
coming soon, and do I want to find out?
All I want to do
at this moment is to take my woman back to our bed, and hold her till this
feeling of loss subsides in me. I lean down, and trying not to jostle her, pick
her up in my arms. She blinks her eyes open.
“Hey,” I murmur
as she looks into my eyes. “You fell asleep here, and I couldn’t find you,” I
say without being able to hide the anxiety in me. My face nuzzles into her
hair, inhaling her brand of scent deep losing myself in her. She smiles and
lifts her arms around my neck and holds onto me, her nose in my neck. We are
two people inhaling each other, intoxicated with each other’s scents. I make my
way to my bedroom, and lay Anastasia down on our bed after pulling the duvet
cover open. She puts her head on the pillow. I lean down and kiss her on the
forehead, “sleep, baby,” I whisper, and as I rub her hair, she slowly closes
her eyes, and drifts back to sleep.
I sit on the
bed, just watching Anastasia, my heart fluttering. How peaceful she looks, how
worried I was with the thought of her being gone. And the relief I felt finding
her in the library. I don’t know what I would do without her. I just can’t
exist! Not without being out of my mind. Just the few minutes took me to find
her were hellish torment! How could I go through ... go through a lifetime? She just conquered me all the way; I’m hers. (←She’s Got A Way by
Billy Joel)
I’m wide awake
with worry, and sleep won’t claim me. I close the balcony door, and make sure it’s
tightly locked. I go to the closet and divest myself off my clothes, and just
put my pajama bottoms on. I come back out and gaze at Anastasia. Why do we
fight? Why do I fight with her? I hate fighting with her! It rips my heart up
every time we go at it. I don’t like hurting her feelings, but then no one else
presses my buttons like she does. In fact, the fights we have don’t only hurt
my heart, but hurt every part of my body as if they have manifested themselves
physically. When she goes toe to toe with me, I just want her to pull me back,
and wrap me around. Because what she doesn’t know is that every time I’m with
her, I have my heart in my hand for her...
The fear of
losing her is always haunting me, and that’s why I fight with her against her
wildly independent streaks as if she’s going to run away from me, run away with
someone. And why shouldn’t she anyway? I’m so unworthy of being loved by the
likes of her.
I go out to the
living room and find my way to my piano. The piano after all is my way of
expressing all the emotions I’m not able, willing or capable of wording. It
allows me to communicate in the subtlest truths about me by means of metal,
wood, ivory and of course vibrating air when I put my fingers on it. It speaks
for me when I’m unable to. It expresses the cries of my soul when my eyes can’t
shed a single tear.
I lower the
piano’s lid so it doesn’t wake Anastasia up, and turn the small bubble of light on the piano, and sit on the bench and let my soul cry out all his lamentations, sorrows, worries, and fears. (←Beethoven –
Moonlight Sonata)
I don’t know how
long I’ve been playing one lamenting piece after another, but I feel her
burning gaze on me. My chest involuntarily rises to accommodate my rushing
breathing. I glance up and lock gazes with her still continuing to play,
wanting her to hear my silent fears. She takes a step towards me, and another,
then another. Slowly she makes her way to me, as I follow her with my watchful
eyes. She reaches up to me, and I stop playing.
“Why did you
stop? That was a lovely piece,” she says in her soft pink satin nightgown, all
alluring, feminine, and enticing.
“Do you have any
idea how desirable you look at the moment? I ask her in a soft voice.
“Come to bed,”
she whispers. I hold my hand out to her, and she takes it, and the second we
touch the short distance between us is too far, and too great for it to be
bearable. I tug her hand and she falls into my lap. I wrap my arms around her,
holding and nuzzling her neck right behind her ear. The usual jolt of
electricity travels and courses through our connection, boiling my blood.
“Because we’re
getting to know each other, Christian, and you’re stubborn and morose and moody
and difficult,” she murmurs in a breathless tone while I nuzzle her neck. She
shifts her head and arches her neck to allow better access for my lips making
me smile.
“My dear Miss
Steele, I’m all those things. It’s such a wonder you put up with me,” I say as I
nip her earlobe sending shivers down her spine making her moan with desire. “Is
it always like this?” I sigh.
“I’ve not idea,”
she murmurs.
“Me neither,” I
say and I swiftly yank the sash of her robe and it falls open and what is
between my hand and Anastasia’s body is just a very thin, very fragile piece of
satin. Oh God! My hand moves up and down her body, caressing, possessing,
touching, feeling, receiving. I reach up to her breast, and with the gentlest
of touch, her nipple hardens, and strains against the thin satin of the night
gown. My fingers trail down to her waist, and making their way to her hip, to
her sex.
“God, Anastasia,
you feel so fine under this material; I can see everything,” I say gently
tugging her pubic hair though the fabric, “even this,” I say in a whisper, and
she gasps. My other hand fists at the nape of her hair. As I pull her head
back, I kiss her fervently, hard, and my tongue forces its way into her mouth,
darting, claiming, and caressing relentlessly, trying to fulfill a bottomless
pit of need I have for her. She moans in my mouth, and her hands reach up to my
face, caressing in response to my ministrations on her body and in her mouth. I
pull her night gown up and my hand palms her round buttock caressing it,
running my thumbnail up and down inside her thigh.
I want to fuck
her on top of my piano. The last time I wanted to do that, we got distracted by
the contract, and then the spanking and she left me... I want nothing to
distract us now. I will fuck her right on my piano, but first, I have to render her punishment! I will
claim her once and for all here. I quickly rise up from my seat and lifting
Anastasia I deposit her onto the piano lid. Her feet are situated atop the keys
creating unmelodious sounds, and I don’t give a shit about it. Anastasia has
literally put me through hell today, and she fought me in the evening. I can’t
spank her, or hit her, but I can still punish her. Sex...sex is a great weapon
of choice for punishment. My revenge will make her beg, sweetly torture her, yet,
still away from her satisfaction...
My fingers
travel and skim up and down her legs finally parting her knees. I quickly grab
her hands, and order Anastasia to lie back atop the piano. I let her go; as she
lies down, I push her legs wider, and her toes skim the piano keys irregularly.
I kiss Anastasia inside her knee and slowly but surely I travel down inside her
thigh kissing, gently biting, sucking, and skimming with my teeth. I push the
satin nightgown up slowly as my mouth travels up her thigh slowly. My lips
finally reach up to the juncture where her thighs meet, her sex blooms open
glistening with her arousal, inviting, calling me. I forget everything, and
kiss her within the folds of her sex, blowing, and my tongue darts out, and
starts circling her clitoris, trying to dig in, taste her deeper, claiming her.
I automatically push her legs wider which blooms her sex fully under my mouth
like the spring rose. My tongue fucks her every way it knows, darting in,
circling, licking, fellating, and as she gets in the rhythm her hips lift up
and meets my mouth, matching the rhythm of my tongue and my ever consuming
mouth. Her hips circle, and I’m lost in her, with her.
“Oh my!
Christian, please!” she begs.
“Oh, no, baby,
not yet,” I say. I don’t want her to come yet. She can’t come. She has tortured
me today, and I will punish her with this. “Anytime you argue with me, I’m
going to take it out on your body somehow,” I say with my punishing kisses
along her belly, making her needy, wanton but far from release. So close yet so
far away. My hands skim and move expertly along her thighs, as I strategically
stop and knead and skim and put her nerves on fire, making her want me to fuck
her, release her from her misery, yet,
no release coming. My tongue dips into her navel as my fingers spears her sex,
making her cry out “ah!” with the most desirous need. I circle both my tongue
and my fingers in synchronization making her writhe beneath me.
“Christian!” she
cries out for me desperate for release. Her sex makes me desirous and frankly
her moans are calling out to me to claim her, and I can brand her inside out,
fuck her into submission. Argh! That side of me will never subside! I want her
to submit me in some ways, and I love it when she resists, and fights, and I
love it when she begs, I love it when I fuck her into obeying me like this! She
owns me, and what I want is to own her back like this! She has already branded me in
my soul. She is all I can think about. She is all that consumes me, and
wherever I look, I see her.
I groan, and
stop my ministrations into her sex, and lift her off the keys, push and slide
her down atop the piano. Quickly divesting of my pajama bottom, I follow her up
there kneeling between her legs, my most favorite place on earth, as I roll a
condom on my cock.
I stare down at
this goddess who owns me even when I try to fuck her into submission, and her
conquest of me has been completed from within. Because I’m a man in love! Even
the sight of her, the sound of her voice makes passion rise in me, turns me on,
and all I want to do is to be with her, be in her, near her, and be consumed
with anything about her. I lose sight of everything else. I feel like a starved
man-starved for her affection.
“I want you so
badly,” I say, and sink into her slowly, and fuck her in a way reflecting my
hunger for her as if fucking is going to be put on quota, and I want to get my
ample share. But I also want to show her how much I love and desire her with my
love making, and the yearning and desire in me. What starts out savoring,
tasting, feeling, slow love making quickly become a possessing, and demanding
fucking, and she wants it, meeting me thrust for thrust with her lifted up
hips. As she cries out my name demanding more of me, I switch places with her
placing her on top of me, as my cock is pushing into her from below as her hips
are angulating over my length and it’s finally both of our undoing. As we reach
our peak, orgasm shudders and courses through our connection, and like a big
jolt it curls my toes, and arches my back as I push into her deep from below,
spear her sex with three more harsh thrusts. I finally empty into her as her
muscles around my cock, squeezes, and milks every last drop out of me.
When the last
bit of shudders run its course, we both lie on the piano, and somehow she is
atop me, and carefully rest her check against me. As our breathing slows down,
I know that I want her this close to me at all times. I gently, lovingly stroke
her hair. She asks me the strangest post coital question in a sleepy tone.
“Do you drink
tea or coffee in the evening?”
“What an odd
question,” I say relaxed.
“Well, I thought
I could bring you tea in your office, but then I realized I didn’t know what
you really would like to drink,” she explains making my heart melt. She’s
thinking of me.
“I see. I
usually drink water or wine in the evening Ana. But perhaps I should try tea,”
I say knowing she likes tea, and maybe would like to keep me company.
I realize that
Anastasia is making effort to get to know me, and I hampered her efforts this
evening. The thought makes me forlorn, mournful. My hand moves absently on her
back stroking her.
“We really know
very little about each other,” she whispers reflecting what I have been
thinking.
“I know,” I say
in a tone mirroring my mood. She picks up on it, and sits up.
“What’s the
matter?” she asks. I don’t want to talk about it. I shake my head. Whatever the
hell I am, and it is pretty fucked up, I know one truth, and that’s a pure and
simple one:
“I love you, Ana Steele,” I say with all my heart. (←Can’t Help Falling
In Love sung by Julio Iglesias)
*****
Fingers gently
caressing my hair wake me up. I find myself wrapped around Anastasia like the
victory flag, and I find my hand claiming her breast, while one leg over her,
wrapping and holding her down. God! I’m drawn to her awake or asleep.
I raise my eyes
to her, and smile at her still half asleep.
“Good morning
beautiful,” I say with a wide grin.
“Good morning
beautiful yourself,” she smiles back at me. I lean and kiss her, retreating my
legs and arms off her, I lean on my elbow and stare down at Anastasia who is
still lying down.
“Did you sleep
okay?” I ask. I know, I did.
“If you are taking southbound I-5, please
take a note that just south of Martin Luther King Jr Way – MP 157, there is a
collision blocking the right lane. And the roadwork on the westbound I-90 will
continue throughout the week and the left two lanes will remain closed. And in
other news...” the news radio alarm continues in the background.
“Yes, despite
the interruption to my sleep last night,” Anastasia mock complains making me
grin at her.
“Hmm. You can
interrupt me like that anytime,” I say kissing her again.
“What about you?
Did you get to sleep well?” she asks me.
“I always sleep
well with you Anastasia,” I respond, and that’s the God’s truth.
“No more
nightmares then?” she probes further.
“No,” I say. Not
with her. She’s my dream catcher.
Her expression
changes to one of worried. “What are your nightmares about?” she asks.
Remembering the pimp, my face falls, and my smile is replaced with a frown.
“They’re
flashbacks...to my early childhood, or so Doctor Flynn says. Some are quite
vivid, and some are less so,” I say my gaze going away as if a memory is
displayed in the eyes of my mind. Without thought, I caress her collarbone with
a finger.
“Do you wake up
crying and screaming?” she asks in a halfhearted joke.
I look at her
quizzically. “No, Anastasia. I’ve never cried. As far as I can remember,” I
say. Not over those memories anyway. But I don’t want to tell her how
devastated I was and unable to help myself and cried over her. That will remain
in my heart, and under the clauses of Taylor and Mrs. Jones’s NDAs.
“Do you have any
happy memories about your childhood?” she asks. I think about it. There was one
about the crack whore.
“I remember one
time the crack whore baking. I remember the smell of it. It was a birthday cake
I think...for me. And of course there’s Mia’s arrival with my mom and dad. My mom
was very worried about how I would react to Mia but, the instant I met her, I
completely adored her. My dad, Carrick told you that I didn’t speak for two
years. It’s true. My first...very first word was Mia. Of course, I remember my first piano lesson. Miss Katie, my piano
teacher was awesome. She had horses, too,” I smile remembering fondly.
“You told me
that your mom saved you. How?” she asks. I think the answer to that is obvious.
What would happen if Grace Trevelyan-Grey didn’t adopt me? I’d go in the
direction of my crack whore mother. A dope addict, man-whore.
“She adopted
me,” I explain in the simplest terms. “When I first saw her, I really thought
she was an angel in her white smock. And she was very gentle, calm, and soft
when she examined me. I’ll never forget that. If she said no to adopting me, or
if Carrick had said no...” I can’t even bring the rest of the thought into
words. It’d be my destruction. And yet she and Carrick saved me. I don’t want
to think about all the shit that could have happened to me early in the
morning. “This is all a little too deep for this time of the morning,” I
mutter.
“I’ve made a vow
to get to know you better,” she says softly.
“Did you now
Miss Steele? And here I thought you wanted to know whether I preferred coffee
or tea,” I say smirking. “Anyway, I can think of one way for you to get to know
me,” I say as I push my erection against her.
“Hmm.. I think I
know you quite well enough that way, Mr. Grey,” she teases.
“I disagree. I
don’t think I’ll ever get to know you well enough that way, Miss Steele,” I
murmur into her ear.
“There are of course a number of advantages to waking up
next to you,” I say seductively.
“Mr. Grey, I’m
shocked. Don’t you have to get up?” she asks in a low, husky, and desirous
voice.
“Not this
morning Miss Steele. There is only one place I want to be up right now and that
is you,” I say with salacity.
“Christian!” she
gapes at me, completely shocked at my audacity. And I move on top of her
grabbing her hands, and as I pull them atop her head, I stake my claim
murmuring, “Oh, Miss Steele. Baby, what I’d like to do to you,” I whisper. It’s
time for conquest.
******
After shower and
getting dressed, Anastasia and I make our way to the breakfast bar to Mrs.
Jones’ marvelous cooking. I have omelet and bacon and Anastasia pancakes and
bacon.
“Christian, when
do you think I’m going to meet your trainer Claude Bastille and put him through
his paces?” she asks. Her inquiry makes me grin. I’m tiring her out, and she
wants stamina.
“Depends if you
want to go to New York this weekend or not. Perhaps you’d like to see him early
one morning this week. I’ll ask Andrea to check on his schedule and come back
to you,” I say, though I know Anastasia is not a morning person.
“Andrea?” she
asks sharply. Jealous are we, Miss Steele?
“She’s my PA,” I
explain. Her face relaxes.
“Oh, okay. One
of your many blondes,” she says in a teasing tone.
“She isn’t mine
Anastasia; she just works for me. You are mine,” I reiterate. (←All I Want is You
by U2)
“I work for you,
too,” she mutters acidulously. Oh, yes, baby, you sure do. I grin and reply,
“So, you do,” and she can’t help but smile back at me.
“Maybe Bastille
can teach me to kickbox,” she says in a warning tone.
“Oh yeah?
Daydreaming about your chances against me?” I ask in an amused tone. I’d love a
challenge.
“Bring it on Miss Steele,” I say happily.
She notices the
piano lid being up, and remarks on it.
“I only closed
it last night to not to disturb you. I suppose it didn’t work out so well, but
then again, I’m glad it didn’t,” I say remembering our christening the piano.
Anastasia flushes all the way to the hairline, anxiously looking at Mrs. Jones
who is just minding her own business in her usual professional demeanor. She
turns around and places Anastasia’s lunch bag before her on the counter.
“Is tuna okay
for later, Ana?” she asks politely.
“Yes, Mrs.
Jones, thank you!” Anastasia remarks smiling shyly. Mrs. Jones having completed
her tasks leaves the kitchen to give us some privacy.
Anastasia turns
to me, and says, “Can I ask you something?”
Oh oh...
whenever that question comes up, there is something that is unpleasant going
through her mind. “Of course,” I say guarded.
“And you won’t
be angry?”
“Why? Is it
about Elena?” I say, which is one topic I get angry about.
“No, then,” I
reply.
“I now have an
additional question,” she says making a face.
“Oh?” that’s not
good.
“Which is about
her,” she says and I roll my eyes. Why must we spoil our beautiful morning with
the thought of Elena?
“What?” I say
snapping.
“Why do you have
to get so mad when I ask you about Elena?” she says confused.
“Are you
honestly asking me this?” I say incredulous. She scowls at me. “I thought you
were always honest with me Christian,” she states narrowing her eyes on me.
“I endeavor to
be,” I reply her honestly. She scrutinizes me with her sharp gaze. “That’s a
very evasive answer,” she says without blinking her eyes.
“Ana, I’m always
honest with you. You’re one person I don’t want to play games with. Well, not
those kinds of games anyway,” I say wanton. She just giggles.
“What sort of
games do you want to play?” she asks quickly, already hot. God, it’s so easy to
distract her! She’s got one track mind. What have I created here?
“Miss Steele,
how very easily you are distracted,” I state.
“You are just
distracting on so many levels, Mr. Grey,” she giggles again.
Damn woman! How
she can get me elated with a simple girlish giggle.
“That is my
favorite sound in the whole world, Anastasia,” I say. “Okay, ask me your
original question,” I coax her without further distraction. She frowns, trying
to remember her question.
“Yeah. Okay, you
only saw your subs over the weekends?”
“Yes, that’s
correct,” I reply nervously. That’s not a good topic to be on knowing her
jealousy meter runs higher, highest, and explosive. She grins. “So, you had no sex during the week,” she states.
I see what she
is trying to decipher, making me laugh. “Is that where you were going with
this?” I ask relieved. “Why do you think I work out every day?” Anastasia looks
relieved, happy, and pleased with herself.
“Miss Steele,
you seem to look very pleased with yourself,” I say scrutinizing her face.
“That I am, Mr.
Grey,” she replies smugly.
“You should be,”
I grin. She knows that she’s a first in weekday sex with me, and I am equally
pleased with this first as well. “Eat your breakfast, now,” I order.
*****
When we get into
the SUV to go to work, Taylor is in the driver’s seat to drop Anastasia off
first, and we’ll go to GEH after. Sawyer is riding shogun, and he will go to
work with Anastasia; but we agreed that he’s going to remain outside. I ask
Anastasia something that has been bothering me, but I had forgotten with
yesterday’s numerous issues.
“Anastasia,
didn’t you say that your roommate’s brother was arriving here today?” in a
casual tone. I want Anastasia nowhere near him. He too has eyes for Anastasia.
“Oh, Ethan, yes,
he’s coming!” she gasps. “I completely forgot. Thank you for reminding me
Christian. I’ll have to go back to the apartment,” she says. What? I didn’t
remind her for his benefit! I can’t help it, and my face falls with worry.
“What time?” I manage to ask.
“I actually am
not sure. I don’t know what time he’s arriving.”
“I don’t want
you going anywhere on your own,” I say sternly, almost menacingly. Nowhere!
“I know,” she
says rolling her eyes at me. “Will Sawyer be spying...ahem, I mean patrolling by the SIP today?” she
asks, and Sawyer must be blushing because his ears turn red as my playroom.
“Yes!” I snap at
her with cold, sharp eyes. She’d do well to remember that. It’s for her own
benefit.
“If I was driving
the Saab, it would have been a lot easier,” she says stubbornly.
“Anastasia,
Sawyer will have a car, and depending on the time, he can drive you to your
apartment,” I state.
“Okay, okay,”
she mutters petulantly. “Ethan will probably call me during the day. I’ll
inform you of the plans after that,” she replies.
“Okay then. But
nowhere on your own, understand?” I ask waving a lecturing finger at her.
“Yes, dear,” she
mutters sweetly making me smile, just a trace. “And perhaps you should only use
your Blackberry. I’ll e-mail you on it. This will prevent my IT guy having a
thoroughly interesting morning, okay?” I ask acerbically.
“Yes,
Christian,” she says acquiescing, but still rolling her eyes at me. I smirk at
her reaction, and lean in to her. “Why Miss Steele...” I whisper lasciviously,
“I do believe you are making my palm twitch.”
“Oh, Mr. Grey,
you and your perpetually twitching palm. What are we going to do with that
problem?” she remarks and makes me laugh. I feel my Blackberry vibrating. I
take it out, and look at the caller ID. Damn it! It’s Elena! Can’t I get a
break from her?
“What is it?” I
say through gritted teeth as I answer the phone.
“Christian, I’m
really sorry to bother you early in the morning. But since you said you would
talk to Welch, I called to tell you there is no need for it. It turns out,
Isaac was creating a scene for us to act out,” she says relieved and hungry for
her sub.
My face relaxes,
amused. “You’re kidding...”
“I’m not. There
I was trying to explain him last night that I was being blackmailed about my
lifestyle, and he blurted out that it was him who wrote that note for us to act
out a scene, and obviously it was not an
actual blackmail. You can understand my relief and anger of course...” she
says.
“For a scene...”
“Yes, go
figure.”
“When did you
say he told you this?” I say chuckling.
“Last night,
after I came home.”
“Listen,
Christian. I was preoccupied about this, and I might have upset you last night.
So, I want to apologize for my intrusion between you and Anastasia. It wasn’t
my intent.” She says.
“No, don’t
worry. You don’t need apologize. I’m only glad that there is a logical
explanation. Although it did seem a ridiculously low amount of money...”
“Yes, that’s
what made me think, and I had my suspicions.”
“I have no doubt
you have something evil and creative planned for your revenge,” I say knowing
how creative Elena can be with a whip or a rope. “Poor Isaac,” I say smiling.
“Oh yes, and I’m
looking forward to exacting my revenge,” she says calmly and that only means
that she knows exactly how she’s going to get her dues.
“Well, thank you
again and sorry to bother you, Christian. “
“Good...Goodbye,”
I say disconnecting the line. But when I look up, Anastasia is looking at me
impassively, instantly making me wary.
“Who was that?”
she asks.
“Do you really
want to know?” I ask knowing how apprehensive she will get. She doesn’t answer;
just shakes her head, her eyes instantly clouded with sadness. Her face falls
and turning her head she looks out the window. No! no! no! I won’t let Elena’s
call spoil our morning.
“Hey,” I say,
reaching for her hand, taking it into my palm and kissing every single knuckle,
and suck her little finger, hard. I then bite it softly, knowing it will send
shivers down to her spine, and jolt her sex to attention all at the same time.
She gasps involuntarily. Anastasia glances at Taylor and Sawyer in the front
seat nervously, and then turns and looks at me finding me watching her with
carnal desire.
“Don’t sweat it
Anastasia. Elena is in the past,” I say willing her to believe me. I kiss the
center of her palm, and her face brightens up with a smile.
*****
After we drop
Anastasia to work, Taylor takes me to GEH. Andrea comes in with the day’s
agenda and list of meetings. As soon as she leaves my office, I type an e-mail
for Anastasia.
_________________________________________
From: Christian
Grey
Subject:
Sunrise
Date: June 14,
2011 09:22
To: Anastasia
Steele
I absolutely love
waking up to you in the morning.
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises
Holdings Inc.
_________________________________________
After hitting
send, I have this grin on my face. What a good way to start my morning. I start
going through my business e-mails, and Andrea knocks on my door, and then
enters with my coffee.
“Your coffee,
sir. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“That’s all for
now Andrea,” I say dismissing her. She is still surprised to see the idiotic
grin on my face, but then dons on her professional demeanor and scuttles out of
my office, knowing better to leave me alone.
I take a large
sip of my coffee. As I start going through my messages, a new e-mail dings into
my e-mail box. Seeing Anastasia’s name I quickly click it, and I lift my coffee
mug with the other hand to take another mouthful of sip.
_________________________________________
From: Anastasia
Steele
Subject:
Sundown
Date: June 14,
2011 09:34
To: Christian
Grey
My Dear
Completely & Utterly Smitten Mr. Grey,
I too love
waking up to you. But I also love being in bed with you and in elevators and on
pianos and billiard tables and boats and desks and showers and bathtubs and
strange wooden crosses with shackles and four poster beds with red satin sheets
and boathouses and finally childhood bedrooms.
Yours truly,
Sex Mad and Insatiable xx.
_________________________________________
I choke on my fucking
coffee and spit a mouthful of it all over my keyboard! And I think I have a
growing tent in front of me, right before my 10:00 a.m. meeting! I quickly type
a response to Anastasia.
_________________________________________
From: Christian
Grey
Subject: Wet hardware
Date: June 14,
2011 09:36
To: Anastasia
Steele
My Dear Sex Mad
& Insatiable,
I’ve just spat
coffee all over my keyboard. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.
I do however
admire a woman who concentrates on geography.
Am I to presume
that you just want me for my body?
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly Shocked CEO, Grey Enterprises
Holdings Inc.
_________________________________________
I get to work
and my mind is already preoccupied with Anastasia lying on various locations
while... argh! How am I supposed to focus on work today? I can’t think...I
can’t concentrate... E-mails! Business e-mails. I have meetings; I have to go
over schematics. Breathe out. Easy Grey... Reserve fuck related thought outside
the work hours. My hands run through my hair in frustration. Sexual
frustration... And of course there won’t be any relief until tonight. So, you
better get your frigging mind focusing on business, and not Miss Steele’s
delectable ass... Focus Grey, focus!
I open up the
designs the engineering team has sent me to examine them closely. A new email
arrives as I go through the design and micro solar panels on the cell phone.
_________________________________________
From: Anastasia
Steele
Subject:
Giggling and wet too
Date: June 14,
2011 09:41
To: Christian
Grey
My Dear
Completely & Utterly Shocked Mr. Grey,
Always.
I have work to
do now.
So, stop
bothering me
Sex Mad and Insatiable xx.
_________________________________________
Baby, you set me
on fire! I’m not a stove! I can’t just turn it off. Hot and cold doesn’t run together in my body. (←Hot N Cold by Kathy
Perry)
After I finish
analyzing the schematics, I type her response.
_________________________________________
From: Christian
Grey
Subject: Do I
really have to?
Date: June 14,
2011 09:49
To: Anastasia
Steele
My Dear Sex Mad
& Insatiable,
Your wish is my
command as ever.
I love that
you’re giggling and wet.
Laters baby.
X
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly Smitten, Shocked and Spellbound
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
_________________________________________
At 10:00 a.m.
exactly I make my way to the meeting with the engineering team to discuss the
preliminary schematics before going over the product next week, and their
improvements to the solar powered self-winding cell phone design. The meeting
goes on till nearly the lunch time and it is pleasingly productive. As the
meeting progresses and we are examining the designs, my Blackberry buzzes. As
soon as I see Anastasia’s name on it, and answer is right away, anxious to hear
her voice.
“Anastasia,” I
say warmly, as if her name is litany on my lips.
“Christian,
Jack’s asked me to get his lunch,” she says without a preamble.
“Lazy fucking
bastard,” I complain.
“So I’m going to
get it. It might be handy if you just gave me Sawyer’s number; that way I don’t
have to bother you,” she says.
“It’s no bother
for me baby,” I say. I’d like to be in control.
“Are you on your
own?”
“No. There are
six people staring at me at the moment wondering who the hell I’m talking to,”
I explain nonchalantly.
“Oh no...
Really?” she gasps.
“Yes, really,” I
answer her, and turn to the engineering team to explain, “My girlfriend.” By
the shocked looks some of them are giving me, they must have thought I was batting
for the home team.
“You know
Christian, they probably all thought you were gay,” she says making me laugh.
“Yeah,
probably,” I say, knowing they did by the way they look at me.
“Uhm, yeah, I’d
better go,” she says embarrassed.
“I’ll inform
Sawyer,” I say laughing. “Have you heard from your friend?”
“Not yet, but of
course you’ll be the first informed, Mr. Grey,” she says coyly.
“Good. Laters,
baby.”
“Bye Christian,”
she says.
*****
As soon as I
hang up with Anastasia, I dial Sawyer’s number.
“Yes, Mr. Grey,”
he answers the phone.
“Sawyer, Miss
Steele is going to go out, wait for her outside please,” I ask him.
“Yes, sir,” he
says, and I hang up to continue with my meeting.
After the
meeting, I go to a business lunch. Taylor drives me, and by 2:30 p.m. I’m back
to GEH.
I’m in my office
and going over several business reports, my Blackberry alerts me of an incoming
e-mail. I check the message and it’s from Anastasia.
_________________________________________
From: Anastasia
Steele
Subject:
visitors from sunny climates
Date: June 14,
2011 14:54
To: Christian
Grey
My Dear
Completely & Utterly SS&S Mr. Grey,
Ethan is back and he’s coming
here to get the keys to the apartment.
I would really like to make sure
he’s settled in okay.
Why don’t you pick me up after work? We can go to the apartment and then we can ALL go out for a meal maybe?
Why don’t you pick me up after work? We can go to the apartment and then we can ALL go out for a meal maybe?
My treat?
Yours,
Ana X
Still Sex Mad & Insatiable
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP
_________________________________________
After finishing
reading a short report, I e-mail Anastasia back. I noticed that she hasn’t used
her Blackberry. God, this woman is completely stubborn! Follow my simple
fucking rules Anastasia!
_________________________________________
From: Christian
Grey
Subject: Do I
really have to?
Date: June 14,
2011 15:04
To: Anastasia
Steele
I approve of
your plan, Anastasia, except for the part about you paying.
It’ll be my
treat.
I’ll pick you up
at 6:00.
X
PS: Why the hell
aren’t you using your Blackberry!?!!
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly Annoyed CEO, Grey Enterprises
Holdings Inc.
_________________________________________
Her reply
doesn’t take long. It comes right when I’m reading the financial reports.
_________________________________________
From: Anastasia
Steele
Subject: your
bossiness
Date: June 14,
2011 15:10
To: Christian
Grey
Christian, don’t be so crusty
and cross.
It’s all in code as you already
see.
I’ll see you at six.
Ana X
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP
_________________________________________
Fuck! Why can’t
you listen? Use the Blackberry!
_________________________________________
From: Christian
Grey
Subject: One
Maddening Woman
Date: June 14,
2011 15:17
To: Anastasia
Steele
You think I’m
crusty and cross now!
I’ll give you
and crusty and cross soon, and look forward to it.
X
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly More Annoyed, but smiling for
some unknown reason CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
_________________________________________
I hit send, and
go back to business, but she replies within a few minutes.
_________________________________________
From: Anastasia
Steele
Subject: Oh,
promises, promises.
Date: June 14,
2011 15:22
To: Christian
Grey
Bring it on Mr. Grey. I too,
look forward to it. ;D
Ana X
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP
_________________________________________
If I keep
replying she’s going to combust me here, and she’s still not using her
Blackberry. I don’t want to enable her.
I hit the
intercom.
“Yes, Mr. Grey?”
answers Andrea.
“Send Taylor in
Andrea,” I order.
“Of course sir,”
she replies, and Taylor is in within thirty seconds.
“Mr. Grey,” he
says waiting for his orders.
“Taylor, I need
you to do a sweep at Anastasia’s apartment. We need to pick her up from work at
six today, so she can let Miss Kavanagh’s brother into the apartment. Do the
sweep, and we’ll go pick Miss Steele from SIP, then head to her apartment.”
“Yes, sir.
Anything else, Mr. Grey?”
“That’ll be all
Taylor,” I say dismissing.
I have so much
work to get through before a busy evening with Anastasia and her roommate’s
brother whom I have no intention of leaving alone with my girlfriend.
About an hour
later, I receive a text message from Taylor:
“The sweep is completed Mr. Grey. All is
clean. On my way to GEH.”
Relieved, I go
back to working. I work till about 5:30 at which time Taylor comes in ready to
take me to pick Anastasia up.
“Did you find
any evidence that Leila had been to Anastasia’s apartment?”
“When we have
done the sweet, there was no evidence that anyone has been in the apartment
sir. We’ve also checked around the complex. All seemed quiet, and clear.”
“Great,” I reply
and we are outside of SIP at around 5:55 p.m. I call Anastasia’s Blackberry.
“Crusty and
Cross here,” I greet her once she answers the phone.
“Well, this is
Sex Mad and Insatiable speaking. I take it you’re outside the building?” she
asks.
“Indeed I am
Miss Steele. I’m looking forward to seeing you,” I say with wanton desire in a
soft seductive tone.
“Ditto, Mr.
Grey. I’ll be right out,” she says before hanging up.
As soon as I see
Anastasia leave the SIP building, I exit the SUV. She is just drinking me in. Her
eyes linger on my gray pants a little too long. Her beaming smile elates my
heart and I can’t wait to take her into my arms. I close the distance between
us, and envelope her into my embrace, giving her a wet lingering kiss.
“You look as
captivating as you did this morning Miss Steele,” I say while still in her
mouth.
“So do you Mr.
Grey,” she replies once we break our kiss.
“Alright, let’s
go and get your friend,” I say smiling down at her. I take her hand, and let
her into the SUV. We chat all the way through to her apartment. I enjoy telling
her about my day. I remember telling her about the environmental breakthroughs
the WSU’s Science Department in Vancouver has made. Those things are very
important to me, because it’s all part of my feed the world plan. I remember getting Claude Bastille’s schedule
before leaving from Andrea. I hand it to Anastasia.
“Before I
forget, these are the time slots that Claude Bastille is free this week,” I
explain.
As Taylor pulls
into a parking space in Anastasia’s apartment complex, my phone buzzes in my
pocket. I check the caller ID, and it’s Ros.
“Grey,” I answer
the phone.
“Mr. Grey, this
is Ros,” she replies.
“Ros, what is
it?” I ask.
“It’s about the
liquidation. I received the actual redundancy packages’ costs. It’s higher than
the forecasted number.”
“How much
higher?” I ask cautiously.
Anastasia turns
to me and mouths, “I’ll go and get Ethan. I’ll be two minutes,” holding up two
fingers. I nod at her as I continue to discuss the new cost I’m to pay with
Ros. Taylor gets out and opens the door for Anastasia.
“Approximately
25% higher,” she says making me cringe.
“Fuck Ros!” I
say angry. “Who cooked up the preliminary numbers? A couple percent up or down
is expected, but 25%?”
“Finance
department has done the cost analysis,” she says.
“Well, they’re
all fucking incompetent if they’re missing the numbers by 25%!” I yell into the
phone.
“We can’t
completely blame the finance, Christian!” she chides me. “There are always
hidden costs in these. If the company has employees who have worked over 10
years, then those packages are going to cost considerably more than the others.
And this company had quite a few long time employees, and some close to
retirement age. So, the retirement packages combined with the long term employment
is going to cost us up to 25% of the original forecast.”
I sigh. She goes
on explaining the details of the hidden cost for the next several minutes. I
notice that Anastasia isn’t back yet. But what alerts me is Taylor’s reaction.
“Mr. Grey!!” he
yells, as he jumps out of the car full speed towards Anastasia’s door. Right on
the second floor, walking towards Anastasia’s apartment’s door leisurely is
Ethan Kavanagh. I drop my Blackberry in the car with the scene before me as all
sorts of scary thoughts running through my head, and run towards Anastasia’s
apartment. By the time I reach to Ethan Kavanagh, Taylor already tackled Ethan
to the floor yanking the key out of his hand.
“What the hell,
man!” Ethan protests. “Get your fucking body off me!”
“Taylor,” I say
to ease up. He rights Ethan Kavanagh up, but his gaze is unwavering.
“Ethan, have you
been to the apartment?” I question him.
“No, I met a
friend and we went out for a drink. I’m just getting back. What is this about?”
I look up at
Taylor, worry and concern in my face is reflected on Taylor’s. Anastasia isn’t
back, and she doesn’t have a key to her apartment. Someone has let her in, and
that someone isn’t Ethan Kavanagh. There’s only one person who can let her in,
and that’s Leila! Fuck! My world shatters with this thought.
“You stay here,
and don’t come up!” I warn him sternly, as Taylor and I run up to Anastasia’s
apartment. My heart lurches to my mouth. I kick Anastasia’s door open, and my
heart falls to the ground with the sight before me.
Leila is holding
Anastasia at gunpoint. I die a thousand deaths with this sight! All my fears
are coming true! I failed to protect Ana! If Leila has harmed her or gets to
harm her because she has a grudge against me, I can never forgive myself. I’d
die. I’m in agony already with the sight before me. (←Dreaming With a
Broken Heart by John Mayer)
It hurts to breathe.
It hurts to look at Anastasia who is at the receiving at of the barrel of a
gun. At this moment I’m seething with anger towards everyone, and top of the
list is occupied by Leila. If anything happens to Anastasia, I can’t exist
without her! She’s my sun! Leila has a fucking gun pointed at Anastasia! She
looks disheveled and crazed. She holds her gun even tighter when she sees me
standing at the door. Whatever she wants to do, she looks intent on
accomplishing it. I can’t bear the thought! Oh God! This is my personal
hell...my personal torment coming into realization! What I reminded myself to
be just a nightmare is here before me playing out... I glance at Ana, scanning
her body with my gaze for any injury or hurt from top of her head to her high
heeled feet, and seeing no visible injury, relief washes over me. But it’s
short lived, because here’s Leila still holding her gun up to Ana as if she’s
finally going to get some recompense for whatever she thinks I’ve done to her.
I swallow. If
she’s going to shoot anyone, it will not be Anastasia. I can’t live in a
universe where Anastasia didn’t exist. Losing Anastasia wouldn’t just cause heartbreak.
I don’t even know why they call it heartbreak! Because it feels like part of my
body and all of my soul is missing too!
My love, my heart lies bleeding with this sight! My heart is chaffed. I
numb the pain, and the love I have for Anastasia deliberately, and intent on
saving her from what I have brought to her doorsteps. I enter into the apartment;
my gaze is fixed on Leila. I’m in charge, I’m her Dom.
*****
EROTION
Sweet for a little even to fear,
and sweet,
|
O love, to lay down fear at love's
fair feet;
|
Shall not some fiery memory of his
breath
|
Lie sweet on lips that touch the
lips of death?
|
Yet leave me not; yet, if thou
wilt, be free;
|
Love me no more, but love my love
of thee.
|
Love where thou wilt, and live thy
life; and I,
|
One thing I can, and one love
cannot — die.
|
Pass from me; yet thine arms,
thine eyes, thine hair,
|
Feed my desire and deaden my
despair.
|
Yet once more ere time change us,
ere my cheek
|
Whiten, ere hope be dumb or sorrow
speak,
|
Yet once more ere thou hate me,
one full kiss;
|
Keep other hours for others, save
me this.
|
Yea, and I will not (if it please
thee) weep,
|
Lest thou be sad; I will but sigh,
and sleep.
|
Sweet, does death hurt? thou canst
not do me wrong:
|
I shall not lack thee, as I loved
thee, long.
|
Hast thou not given me above all
that live
|
Joy, and a little sorrow shalt not
give?
|
What even though fairer fingers of
strange girls
|
Pass nestling through thy
beautiful boy's curls
|
As mine did, or those curled lithe
lips of thine
|
Meet theirs as these, all theirs
come after mine;
|
133
And though I were not, though I be
not, best,
|
I have loved and love thee more
than all the rest.
|
O love, O lover, loose or hold me
fast,
|
I had thee first, whoever have
thee last;
|
Fairer or not, what need I know,
what care?
|
To thy fair bud my blossom once
seemed fair.
|
Why am I fair at all before thee,
why
|
At all desired? seeing thou art
fair, not I.
|
I shall be glad of thee, O fairest
head,
|
Alive, alone, without thee, with
thee, dead;
|
I shall remember while the light
lives yet,
|
And in the night-time I shall not
forget.
|
Though (as thou wilt) thou leave
me ere life leave,
|
I will not, for thy love I will
not, grieve;
|
Not as they use who love not more
than I,
|
Who love not as I love thee though
I die;
|
And though thy lips, once mine, be
oftener prest
|
To many another brow and balmier
breast,
|
And sweeter arms, or sweeter to
thy mind,
|
Lull thee or lure, more fond thou
wilt not find.
|
Algernon Charles Swinburne (1904)
|
Hi everyone! I hope you're all doing well. And, I'm dedicating this chapter to Linda who is getting married tomorrow. Congratulations Linda!!! I wish you a blissfully happy life with your new husband! I will post the next chapter on Monday ladies!
