Chapter XVI ← FanFiction - Christian and Anastasia - Christian's POV

ICARUS TO SUN

CHAPTER XVI

Daedalus fashion two pairs of wings out of wax and feather for me and himself. In order to make it to the mainland from the island, I’m warned several times to stay on the flight path, and not fly near the sun or too close to the sea. Sun will melt the wax wings and the sea will get them wet making them heavy. He tries the wings first, and he stays on his flight path, and makes it to the mainland. I’m too elated, feel too invincible. I soar through the sky curiously. The sun pulls me to itself. I can’t escape the beauty of it. I’m dazzled; its beauty and warmth pulls me in. I’m on auto pilot running to it. The sun melts my wings first, and I have no feathers left; just flapping my bare arms. I reach out and try to hold onto the sun. Even though it’s hot, I embrace it, hold it. I don’t want to fall away from it. Wrap myself in it knowing I will burn. I want to embrace it. I approach the sun, expecting to be burnt...willingly at that; but when I get incredibly close at its magnificent power, its brightness gets blinding, and I expect to dissipate; but then it becomes Anastasia, and my savior. I wrap into her, merging.

The heat… it’s stifling, overpowering as well as welcoming. I feel a movement. Hands pulling her. I moan: “No! no!”

Hands, taking her, yanking her away. I wrap myself around her, like a victory flag as not to let her get pulled away from me.  Then finger tips move around my chest. Anastasia is too trying to hold onto me. I stir and groan to keep her close to me. I nuzzle her chest, and inhale deeply. My eyes flutter open. It was a dream. She’s here in my arms. Relief floods me. My eyes meet her baby blues sleepily as I mumble “Good morning,” to her, blinking. I find my head in her chest my arms and legs draped around her, completely covering her, captivating her in my embrace even in my sleep, making me frown. 

“Jesus, even in my sleep I’m drawn to you,” I say. I move slowly, unpeeling my limbs from her body as I get my bearings. My erection is against her hips. I notice her wide-eyed reaction, making me smile slowly, salaciously. (← I melt with you by Nouvelle Vague)

“Hmm… this has possibilities, but I think we should wait until Sunday.” I lean down and nuzzle  her ear with my nose. She flushes crimson.

“You’re very hot,” she murmurs making me smile even more.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I murmur back to her and press myself against her, suggestively. She flushes some more. I love the way she reacts to me. I prop myself up on my elbow gazing down at her, amused. I bend, and plant a gentle kiss on her surprised lips.

“Sleep well?” I ask. She nods, staring up at me.

“So did I,” I say frowning. Contemplating. “Yes, in fact, really well,” I say. The realization of it surprises me, leaving me confused.

“What’s the time?” I ask, and she glances up at her alarm clock.

“It’s 7:30,” she says sleepily.

“7:30… shit.” Shit! Shit! Shit! I have a meeting and I will be late!!

I scramble out of bed and drag on my jeans. She looks completely amused seeing my  less than ‘in control' demeanor, and watches me with that smile sitting up. I, Christian Grey am late and flustered. This never happens.

“You are such a bad influence on me. I have a meeting. I have to go – I have to be in Portland at eight. Are you smirking at me?” I ask unable to help myself but be amused at her reaction.

“Yes,” she responds. I grin.

“I’m late. I don’t do late. Another first, Miss Steele.” I pull on my jacket and then bend down and grasp her head, my hands on either side.

“Sunday,” I say with an unspoken promise.

I lean forward and kiss her quickly. I grab my things from the side table and my shoes in my hands. I’ll put them on in the car.

“Taylor will come and sort your Beetle. I was serious. Don’t drive it. I’ll see you at my place on Sunday. I’ll e-mail you a time.” And like a whirlwind, I’m out of the door.

I run down the stair two to three at a time, and run to my car. An older woman who took her dog out for a walk stops in her tracks thinking I’m going to rush her, but I mutter a “hello” even surprising myself, putting a smile on her face, and get to my car. Even though I’m never late to anything, and I should be nervous and upset for being late, I have this quickness in my step, and quite the opposite, and extremely elated. There’s only one reason for feeling this way. Her name is Anastasia Steele. I spent the night with her. Not because she was drunk, not because I had no other place to sleep in, but because I wanted to, because she wanted me to. I feel incredibly rested, and had not nightmares. Even the pimp was not able to get to me at night. Each time she spent the night with me, I had a good night’s sleep. This can’t be an accident! It’s the third time.

I get in my car quickly, put my phone in its cradle, ease into my shoes, and dial Taylor as I back out of the parking space. He answers on the first ring.

“Yes, sir,” he answers.

“Taylor, I’m running late this morning. Where are you?” I ask. He pauses all for three seconds, and this is Taylor’s version of extremely shocked. He usually never shows his emotions, and he’s passive like me.

“I’m at the Heathman’s restaurant sir. Your business meeting guests have arrived,” he says.

“Ok. Keep them busy. I’ll be in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh Taylor, what’s the ETA on the Blackberry?”

“The delivery is scheduled for 1:00 p.m.,” says Taylor with a certain satisfaction having resolved this problem.

“I’m driving back to Seattle today. I need you to dispose of Miss Steele car today. Did you already speak with the dealer?”

“Yes, sir. He was surprised, but because we purchase so many vehicles from them, he was more than willing to pay a decent sum. He said he might have a collector who might want to restore it to its former glory,” said Taylor with distaste as if an old barely moving deathtrap of a car could have any restoration value. 

“Fine. Report me back afterwards. Meet me at the door in ten.”

“Yes, sir,” he says and I hang up.

I make my exit from the freeway, and drive around the Heathman’s. I come to a stop in front of the hotel, and toss the keys to the valet who takes it with a large grin. Taylor’s waiting by the door.

“How many of them?” I ask without a preamble.

“There are four people sir. I had them reserve a private meeting room. Ros is here. I took the liberty of texting her last night to be here early in the morning,” he says with an impassive look.

I give him a sideways glance. He knows me very well. When I walk into the private meeting room, Ros is already talking to the clients. They all get up when I walk in. Taylor stays by the door, impassive look plastered on his face, he’s staring straight ahead; I know him well enough to know that his eyes and ears are open. I shake hands with each of them, and acknowledge Ros by a nod, and say “Ros,” to which she responds, “Mr. Grey.”

We continue our business talks. Taylor had already set-up my laptop before my seat. I had heard my e-mail buzz when I was speaking with Taylor on the way here. I open the message which brightens my eyes. It’s from Anastasia. She took my advice, and wrote her thoughts and feelings about last night’s issues.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Assault and Battery: The after-effects
Date: May 27 2011 08:06
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

You wanted to know why I felt confused after you – which euphemism should we apply - spanked, punished, beat, assaulted me. Well, during the whole alarming process I felt demeaned, debased and abused. And much to my mortification, you’re right, I was aroused which was completely unexpected given how humiliated I felt. But as you are well aware, all things sexual are utterly new to me. In a way I just wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared to understand better. I was shocked to feel aroused. What really worried me was how I felt afterwards. And that’s more difficult to articulate. You see, I was happy that you were happy. I also felt relieved that it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt – sated.

But I feel very uncomfortable, guilty even, feeling that way. It doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m confused as a result. Does that answer your question?

I hope the world of Mergers and Acquisitions is as stimulating as ever… and that you weren’t too late. Thank you for staying with me.

Ana

__________________________________________

I’m completely relieved to read about her feelings in regards to the punishment she received. It really scared me a lot last night – and that she might somehow slip through my fingers, not liking how I was punishing her. She sounds completely like Tess D’Urbervilles. Obviously it isn’t surprising since she went for the debasement.  I type her a response right away. Ros is leading the conversation, and I’m observing.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Free Your Mind
Date: May 27 2011 08:25
To: Anastasia Steele

This is very Interesting… if slightly overstated title heading, Miss Steele.

To answer your points: I’ll go with spanking – as that’s what it was. So you felt demeaned, debased, abused and assaulted – how very Tess D’Urbervilles of you. I believe it was you who decided on the debasement, if I remember correctly.

Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try and embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That’s what a submissive would do. I am grateful for your inexperience. I value it, and I’m only beginning to understand what it means. Simply put… it means that you are mine in every way.

Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing, there’s nothing wrong with that. Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close. Punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking – so that’s about as hard as it gets, unless of course you commit some major transgression, in which case I’ll use some implement to punish you with. My hand was very sore. But I like that. I felt sated, too – more so than you could ever know.

Don’t waste your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing, etc. We are consenting adults and what we do behind closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free your mind and listen to your body. The world of M&A is not nearly as stimulating as you are, Miss Steele.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

I hit send as I nod to a point Ros is making for the prospective clients. I look interested. I lean back in my chair. Within two minutes, Anastasia’s answering e-mail takes its place in my e-mail box. My breath hitches in well contained excitement. I move my mouse and click it open.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Consenting Adults!
Date: May 27 2011 08:27
To: Christian Grey

Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting? I’m very glad your hand was sore. And if I listened to my body, I’d be in Alaska by now.

Ana

PS: I will think about embracing these feelings.

__________________________________________

Aren’t we feisty this morning? Just the way I like it. She toys with me even when she doesn’t mean to. It’s unbelievably hot, and frustrating at the same time. Her post script note gives me a lot of hope making me sigh with relief. I type my response after I answer a question about some basic issues with the future markets.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: You Didn’t Call the Cops
Date: May 27 2011 08:36
To: Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele,

I am in a meeting discussing the futures market, if you’re really interested. For the record – you stood beside me knowing what I was going to do. At any time during your punishment, you didn’t ask me to stop, neither did you use the safeword. You are an adult and you have choices. Quite frankly, I’m looking forward to the next time my palm is ringing with pain. You’re obviously not listening to the right part of your body.

Alaska is very cold and no place to run. I would find you. I can track your cell phone – remember?

Go to work.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Alaska... Baby, I can find you on the other side of the world. Take that Miss Steele! Put it in your pipe and smoke it. I hit send. She doesn’t waste any time to reply me of course. She has a smart mouth which reaches all the way through her laptop which I would love to tame.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Stalker
Date: May 27 2011 08:37
To: Christian Grey

Have you sought therapy for your stalker tendencies?

Ana

__________________________________________

And, of course this is what I expected her to say. I smile, and try not to look like an idiot to the people I’m having a business meeting with.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Stalker? Me?
Date: May 27 2011 08:39
To: Anastasia Steele

I pay the eminent Dr. Flynn a small fortune with regard to my stalker and other tendencies.

Go to work.

Christian Grey CEO,
 Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Of course, she’ll stay and argue with me.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Expensive Charlatans
Date: May 27 2011 08:41
To: Christian Grey

May I humbly suggest you seek a second opinion? I am not sure that Dr. Flynn is very effective.

Miss Steele

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Second Opinions
Date: May 27 2011 08:44
To: Anastasia Steele

Not that it’s any of your business, humble or otherwise, but Dr. Flynn is the second opinion. You will have to speed, in your new car, putting yourself at unnecessary risk – I think that’s against the rules.

GO TO WORK.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Does she ever listen to me? And sure enough, another message appears from her.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: SHOUTY CAPITALS
Date: May 27 2011 08:48
To: Christian Grey

As the object of your stalker tendencies – I think it is my business, actually. I haven’t signed yet. So rules, schmules. And I don’t start until 9:30.

Miss Steele

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Descriptive Linguistics
Date: May 27 2011 08:50
To: Anastasia Steele

Schmules? Not sure where that appears in Webster’s Dictionary.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Descriptive Linguistics
Date: May 27 2011 08:53
To: Christian Grey

It’s between control freak and stalker. And descriptive linguistics is a hard limit for me. Will you stop bothering me now? I’d like to go to work in my new car.

Ana

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Challenging but amusing Young Women
Date: May 27 2011 08:56
To: Anastasia Steele

My palm is twitching. Drive safely, Miss Steele.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

The meeting is over in another thirty minutes. But, Ros and I stay and go over some business plans, and discuss about our plans to acquire a new dock in Asia to save from the overhead expenses. It’s about eleven o’clock by the time Ros leaves back to Seattle. I should also be leaving soon. I go to my suite, and of course Taylor packed everything ready to go.

Taylor comes in.

“Sir, Miss Steele’s Blackberry is on its way to be delivered. She should have it within the hour. It’s fully charged, all set up with your contact information, as well as with her e-mail account. And I have forwarded her phone number to yours sir,” he says in a voice with tinge of slight pride. I nod. Efficiency should be Taylor’s middle name.

“When Miss Steele leaves work this evening, go and collect her car and dispose of it. Then drive back to Seattle.”

“Yes, sir,” he says.

I type another message to Anastasia. She’ll be able to read it once her Blackberry is delivered.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: BlackBerry ON LOAN
Date: May 27 2011 11:16
To: Anastasia Steele

I need to be able to contact you at all times, and since the written format is your most honest form of communication, I figured you needed a BlackBerry.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Even though I know that she’ll freak out to receive yet another gadget from me, I want to, no, actually I need to be able to get in touch with her at all times. I need to know where she is, how she is, who she is with. I need control. I simply don’t know any other way. She’s mine, and I am possessive of what’s mine. I don’t share.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Consumerism Gone Mad
Date: May 27 2011 13:23
To: Christian Grey

I think you need to call Dr. Flynn right now. Your stalker tendencies are running amok. I am at work. I will e-mail you when I get home. Thank you for yet another gadget. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were the ultimate consumer. Why do you do this?

Ana

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sagacity from one so young
Date: May 27 2011 13:25
To: Anastasia Steele

Fair point well made, as ever, Miss Steele. Dr. Flynn is on vacation. And I do this because I can.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Thinking of the things I can do, I don’t think I want my own physician to solve the contraception issue for Anastasia. For one thing, he’s a male doctor. I don’t want another guy looking at Anastasia’s privates even if he’s a doctor. I will get the best OBGYN for her. Andrea just e-mailed me the confirmation of the appointment. She’ll be coming to Escala at 1:30 Saturday. When money is no object, everyone’s schedule opens up, and make time for you. That’s one of the things I love about having large sums of money. It makes life possible in your own terms...Most the time. All bets are off when it comes to Miss Steele though.

I send her another e-mail informing about her appointment time. Because I have to leave soon, I’m in a hurry to get going. I have spent here a week, and I’m anxious to get back to Seattle to tend some business, and frankly be in my own home.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sunday
Date: May 27 2011 13:40
To: Anastasia Steele

Shall I see you at 1 p.m. Sunday? The doctor will be at Escala to see you at 1:30. I’m leaving for Seattle now. I hope your move goes well, and I look forward to Sunday.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

I leave to drive home. The drive to Seattle is smooth though a little long. I want to get to the city before the rush hour traffic hit. Music always helps. It’s Kings of Leon. Their melody is loud through my R8’s speakers. Closer... As he sings “She took my heart and she took my soul,” my breath hitches. Did Anastasia do that do me? (← Closer by Kings of Leon)

I murmur along with him with the lyrics as my heart constricts:

“You shimmy – shook my boat,

Leaving me stranded all in love on my own,

Do you think of me?

Where am I now?

Baby where do I sleep?

Feels so good but I’m old,

2000 years of chasing taking its toll,

And it’s coming closer...”

Does she think of me as often as I think of her? Fear grips me just by singing along to the lyrics. She did shake my sturdy boat. I let out a sigh of relief when the song is over.

The lyrics are in my head like a broken record over and over again. “Do you think of me? Do you think of me? Do you think of me Anastasia?” I shake my head to clear the thoughts. By the time I get to Escala it’s already passed 5:00 p.m. I park at my bay in the Escala parking lot, and quickly make my way to the elevators. I punch in my code, and the elevator smoothly takes me up to my suite. As I make my way to my suite, Mrs. Jones comes out and greets me.

“Welcome home Mr. Grey. Shall I get your dinner ready sir?”

“Yes. I’ll be ready to eat in 15 minutes Mrs. Jones.” I say and make my way to my room. I leave my jacket neatly on the chair, and take a quick shower. I put on my black jeans and white linen shirt. No socks or shoes. I pour myself some wine to pair it with delicious fish Mrs. Jones cooked. I dial Anastasia’s number. She should have left work already. But she doesn’t answer. I frown. Check the time. It’s passed 5:30 p.m. I call Taylor.

“Yes, sir,” he answers on the second ring.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“I have just dropped Miss Steele’s car, and collected the payment sir. I’m on my way back to the hotel to collect the SUV right now sir.”

“What was Miss Steele doing?”

“She and her roommate appeared to be in the middle of packing,” he responds giving me a sigh of relief. So she was busy, but at home.

“Did she say anything to you?” I ask firmly.

“She asked me how long I worked for you.”

“That’s it?” I probe.

“Yes sir. I didn’t stay long after she collected her belongings from the vehicle,” he responds.

“When will you be leaving?”

“I should be able to leave within 30 minutes sir,” he responds.

“I’ll brief you about tomorrow when you get back,” I say.

“Yes, sir,” he responds, I hang up.

I finish my meal, and leave to my office. My phone rings. I grab at it excitedly thinking its Anastasia.

“Hello?” I say without looking at the number a little too softly?

“Oh, that is sooo sweet!” drawls Elliot.

Fuck! I don’t want to give him ammo to tease me.

“What’s up Elliot?” I say in the tone he’s used to hearing.

“Nothing. I was just going to ask you what time Mia is coming back tomorrow.”

“Oh,” I say, and give him the time.

“Well, thanks for picking her up bro. But, you know I’m making up to you for picking her up by helping your girlfriend move to Seattle!” he says teasing.

“What? Did your girlfriend change her mind about moving?” I ask teasing.

“Of course not. You can’t even take a joke bro!” he says. “Hey, I’m going over to their apartment right now. Anything you want me to tell her?” he asks teasing, fucking bastard.

“Nothing I can’t tell her myself. Thanks,” I say hanging up.

The conversation makes me jealous. He’ll get to see Anastasia, and I won’t. Hell, I can’t even reach her! It’s the third time now I’m dialing, and she hasn’t picked her phone up! It’s maddening! I want to be able to reach her via the phone, or e-mail. Is it too much for her to answer her phone or reply her messages?

I try to calm myself down by telling myself she’s moving tomorrow, and she’s possibly packed up her laptop. But did she pack her phone too?

I’m supposed to be going to a fundraiser tonight. My mind is completely occupied with Anastasia. This will give me some sort of diversion. Something to do. I get out of my study, and go to my closet. It’s a black tie event. I find my tux and as I look for a bow, my hand caresses the silver tie slowly. I close my eyes, and try to gain control over my breathing. What has she done to me in such a short time? What is happening to me? I’ve never, ever been attached to a woman like this. Not even when I thought I was in love with Elena, and of course I wasn’t. I put my socks and shoes on.  Before I leave my suite, I call Anastasia once again. No answer. I pace around the great room both my hands running through my hair in frustration. She says she’ll call me when she gets home from work, and she doesn’t keep her word. I dial her number again. It rings four times, and her voice mail picks up. This time I leave her an angry message:

‘Anastasia, I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have enough decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and worrying is not an emotion I’m familiar with, and I don’t tolerate it very well. Call me.’ I hang up.

It’s fucking frustrating! If she was near, I’d drive over there and let my hand ache again! Right now I have to show my face at a fundraiser. I will get there, say my hellos, write my check and get back. I rush out of my suite, my mind is occupied with the thoughts of Anastasia.

*

It’s passed 10:00 p.m. and I still haven’t received a call or a message back from Anastasia. Worry washes over me. What’s wrong? Why hasn’t she called me, or wrote to me? She said she would. Something must have happened. I can’t handle the suspense, and send her an e-mail from my Blackberry:

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Where are you?
Date: May 27 2011 22:15
To: Anastasia Steele

‘I am at work. I will e-mail you when I get home.’ Is what you wrote earlier. Are you still at work or have you packed your phone, BlackBerry and MacBook? Call me, or I may be forced to call Elliot. I know he’s over at your place.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

With my message sent, I say my goodbyes and nod at the ogling women though that's the last thing I want to do, and leave the building in a hurry. I loosen my bowtie in the car once the valet drives it up front of the building. I drive home faster than I should. I wait the fifteen seconds the garage gate lifts up, and I drive in impatiently. I go to one of my bays and park the car. I walk out and press the call button on the elevator. They’ll never be the same for me. Every time I enter one, I think of her. I close my eyes all the way to my penthouse. Once I enter into my suite, I sigh, and pour myself a glass of wine, and taking my jacket off I lay it on the chair and go to play my piano. I always somehow drift back to playing same forlorn music...over and over again. The music is forlorn, and sad, and drowns me in some unknown sorrow. (←Suffocation by Chopin)

My phone buzzes in my pocket nearly thirty minutes after I start playing. This time I check the caller ID. My heart stutters for a second. It’s Anastasia. I feel relief wash over me. She’s finally called.

“Hi,” I answer softly. She’s silent for a few seconds. “Hi,” she finally responds.

“I was worried about you,” I say concerned.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t reply, but I’m fine.” I lean towards the piano, let the relief completely cover me, and take me out of the suffocation. My eyes still closed, still trying to get to that mental shore, I say, “Did you have a pleasant evening?” And do you know the kind of storms you let loose in my tormented soul? Just the sound of your voice releases me from my internal suffocation and torment. I breathe slowly. (← Nocturne from The Secret Garden)

“Yes. We finished packing and Kate and I shared a Chinese take-out with José.” When she says his name I feel the rip tide is pulling me back into the ocean of suffocation. I remind myself she’s calling me, and talking to me in that sweet voice. She’s still mine.

“How about you?” she asks me.

Breathe Grey, breathe, I remind myself. Eventually, I sigh, resigning... only for the time being.

“I went to a fundraising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could,” I say unable to keep the sadness and resignation out of my voice.

“I wish you were here,” she whispers.

“Do you?” I ask her quietly, still utterly sad, my heart clenching. I didn’t even realize how great the fear of losing her was until this moment.

“Yes,” she breathes firmly. I close my eyes willing to believe. Finally I sigh.

 “I’ll see you Sunday?” I ask fearing her answer.

“Yes, Sunday,” she murmurs.

“Goodnight,” I bid her not willing to let go.

“Goodnight, Sir,” she says completely catching me unawares, as I inhale sharply, pulling me ashore from the rip current with two simple fucking words!

“Good luck with your move tomorrow, Anastasia” I say in a soft voice. And we’re both hanging on the phone like teenagers, neither wanting to hang up.

“You hang up,” she whispers making me smile.

“No, you hang up,” I say grinning.

“I don’t want to,” she says making me wish she was here... in my arms.

“Neither do I,” I say.

“Were you very angry with me?” she asks worried.

“Yes,” I respond.

“Are you still?”

“No.”

“So you’re not going to punish me?” she asks worried.

“No. I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy,” I respond.

“I’ve noticed,” she comments.

“You can hang up now, Miss Steele.”

“Do you really want me to, Sir?” she says making my heart skip a beat.

“Go to bed, Anastasia,” I say finally relief fully covering me.

“Yes, Sir,” she says, but somehow we both stay on the line.

“Do you ever think you’ll be able to do what you’re told?” I ask both amused because she’s just as affected by me as I am of her, and exasperated because she has not a single obedient bone in her body, I sigh.   

“Maybe. We’ll see after Sunday,” she says, and finally hangs up the phone.

What am I going to do with you Anastasia? Worse yet, what would I do without you? I slowly make my way to my bedroom with the thoughts of Anastasia, and five minutes later I’m in my bed with just my boxers on drifting into sleep with her shy smile in my mind. (←With or Without You by U2) 

*****

(Christian and Mia @ the airport)

***

More to come later...

Chapter XII - FanFiction - Christian and Anastasia

DINNER DATE

CHAPTER XII

(Bookmark is used with the courtesy of http://www.forestadesign.com/bookmarks/)

The next day my heart is at my throat the entire day. I’m edgy, excited, nervous, happy, did I mention nervous? I can see that I’m making Taylor very nervous. I’m brusque and short. I have to find a diversion to get through this day. I want to keep her tonight. I want to make love to her. Fuck her. Kiss her. Hold her. Seeing as I have no other bed, and I’m not at Escala, she may have to sleep in my bed. Yet another break of my rules! She’s the chink in my armor! But there is no other bed, and I’m not sleeping on the sofa when she’s in this proximity. My subconscious say, “keep lying to yourself, maybe you’ll believe it!” I shut him up. Maybe we won’t be doing any sleeping, what say you to that?

God! It’s been three days since I’ve had her, and its killing me... being only six miles away from her, and not tasting her, not loving her, not fucking her!

Exasperated, I yell “Taylor!”

“Yes, sir,” he appears in the living room area of my suite.

“I need a workout. Let’s go for a run.”

“Yes, sir!”

I can run to her place from here, and I won’t be tired when I get there, and this pent up energy is driving me insane; looking for a way to get out! But of course I won't because I exercise control, and I have to be shooting on all my pistons when she gets here. So, we only run, and we run hard for several miles! When we get back, I take a shower. My pentup energy has not subsided. I might have to save that for tonight. I put on my customary white linen shirt and black jeans, black tie and black jacket. I want to look impeccable so she won’t be able to leave. I run my fingers through my hair, leaving it tousled giving it a just fucked air. Put that in your pipe and smoke it Miss Steele! I make my way to downstairs to the hotel’s bar.

I order myself a glass of white wine. I’m nervous as ever, and I don’t do nervous. I don’t do many emotions. I’m always controlled, and control gives me serenity, and Anastasia is creating chaos in my already tormented soul! I check my watch: 6:56 p.m. Will she come?  My foot starts tapping in a nervous gesture on the floor. I stop it. I lean over to the bar, and take another sip of my wine. She’s here! I feel her gaze on my back! I don’t know how! But when she’s in the vicinity, I feel her as if we’re connected! I glance around still nervous, and see her standing at the entrance of the bar. She’s admiring me! My heart melts, and I still when I see her looking like that. She looks amazing in a purple dress! I have to blink a few times to make sure it really is her here! She’s stunning! I give her my smile only reserved for her, that salacious grin to show my desire, my affection, my wantonness for her.

She’s in a beautiful dress and she's wearing stilettos, and damn! I have something for high heels that makes me want to take her right here! Maybe I still can. I have a private dining room reserved. She walks towards me, and I automatically get up and walk towards her. (← Can't Take my Eyes off of You by Frank Sinatra) 

All I can murmur to her is “Anastasia, you look stunning!” and give her a chaste kiss on her cheek. “You are wearing a dress. I approve Miss Steele.” I offer my arm and she takes it, and I lead her to a private booth area. I motion for the waiter, and ask her what she wants to drink. She gives me a sly smile, and says “I’ll have what you are having please.” I order her a Sancerre, and slide in opposite to her. The thought of her being agreeable makes me giddy. I can’t help but say “They have an excellent wine cellar here,” cocking my head to one side.

I close my eyes for a second to see if I can escape her pull, but no, I’m unable. I find myself steepling my hands and lean towards her. My eyes, my heart is full of some emotion that is ready to bust out of me, pour forth for her. She shifts nervously under my gaze. She feels the charge between us too.

“Are you nervous?” I ask her softly.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I lean forward even further.

“I’ll give you a secret,” I find myself saying conspiratorially, “I’m nervous too.” She blinks at me surprised. I’ve mastered the control element for a long time, but nervousness is a given feeling in her presence. I give her smile. The waiter arrives with her wine, olives, and some mixed nuts.

She gets right to the point.

“So, Christian, how are we going to do this? Do you want to run through my points one by one?” Impatient and getting down to business immediately...

“Impatient as ever, Miss Steele,” I say.

Then she says the simplest but most shocking thing because I think she’s mocking me. And it’s the hottest thing ever!

“Well Mr. Grey, in that case, I shall ask you what you thought of the weather today,” looks at me with her big blue eyes intently making me smile. Two can play at that game Miss Steele. I make a show of extending my hand to grab an olive and pop it into my mouth leisurely. She’s watching my mouth, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s squirming in her seat, and nervous. When she gets desirous of me she flushes red and looks at her hands. She must be really hot, because she's fixed on my lips and mouth, her gaze is unwavering, unable to stare away. Her chest rises up and down with desire, her breathing shallow but rapid. She’s squeezing her legs together now, because she accidentally tugs on the table cloth. She wants me, and that awakens desires I didn’t know existed in me! I want to draw that out.

“I thought,” I say softly, “that the weather was particularly unexceptional today Miss Steele,” smirking at her. (← Blue Skies by Ella Fitzgerald)

“Are you smirking at me Mr. Grey?” she asks incredulous.

“I sure am Miss Steele,” I smile. Take that Anastastia! She leans forward and whispers fervently:

“You know the contract is legally unenforceable Mr. Grey,” she says changing my mood.

“I am fully aware of that fact Miss Steele,” I rebuttal. She leans back and crosses her arms, closing up.

“Were you ever going to tell me that fact at some point?” Does she not trust me? Does she think I’d take advantage of her? I frown. Does she think so little of me?

“Anastasia, do you think that I’d coerce you into something you wouldn’t want to do, and then pretend to have a legal hold over you?” I ask with fervor in my voice.

“Well... yes.” She answers, and oddly her answer is hurtful. I don’t get hurt! Where is that feeling coming from? Two simple words, yet, they stick like a knife to my dark soul.

“You don’t think very highly of me Anastasia,” I say trying to hide the hurt from my voice, “why?”

“Mr. Grey, you haven’t answered my question. You don’t answer a question with another question.”

I sigh. She deserves an answer.

“Anastasia, the purpose of the contract is not whether it’s legally enforceable or not. It represents an arrangement I’d like to make with you. It states what I expect from you and what you can expect from me in clear terms. If you don’t like what you see, don’t sign. But if you do sign, and later on decide that you don’t like it, or that it’s not for you, you can simply walk away because I have number of get out clauses in place. And if there was even a chance that it was remotely possible to legally enforce it, do you think I’d drag you through the courts should you decide to run?”

She gazes at me for a moment digesting what I had just said to her, and without taking her gaze from me she takes a long draft from her wine. I want her trust me. Always! I would never take advantage of her. If anything I have this strange desire to take care of her. We have to trust each other if we have a prayer for this arrangement to work. (← A matter of Trust by Billy Joel)

“These types of relationships, in fact, relationships in general are built on honesty and trust. If you don’t trust me, trust me to know how I’m affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you...” I say. I lean further in, and gaze into her eyes and say, “if you can’t be honest with me, then we really can’t do this,” with fervor in my voice.

“So, it boils down to this Anastasia: Do you trust me or not?” My eyes are burning into hers willing her to be honest with me.

She cocks her head at me and totally disarms me with her question:

“Did you have this discussion with, uhm... the fifteen?”

“No,” I say.

“Why ever not?” she asks.

“Because they were all established submissives, and understood what I expected and wanted out of a relationship. So, it was a matter of fine tuning the soft limits, and such details.”

She shakes her head.

“Is there a store you go to get one of these girls? Like Submissives R Us or Target Submissive Special?”

I laugh, “no, not exactly,” I answer disarmed again.

“Then how?”

“Anastasia, is this what you want to discuss or get down to nitty-gritty of your issues?” She swallows. A lot of emotions cross through her face. She looks down at her hands. I need to distract her from overthinking. She’s always overthinking.

“Are you hungry?” I ask. She looks up. “No,” she answers meekly.

I bet she hasn’t eaten. She hardly eats anything. “Have you eaten today?” I ask her.

“No,” she says in a barely audible voice. My eyes narrow. Why is she always avoiding food?

“You must eat Anastasia. We can eat in my suite or here. Where would you prefer?” I ask.

“I think we should just stay in public areas, to be more neutral.” I give her a cynical smile leaning into her. “Anastasia do you think being in a public venue would stop me?” I say sensually, softly, gazing into her; my eyes are burning ember with desire for her. Not in a million years. I’ve been dying for her in the last three days! Her eyes widen and she swallows.

“I hope so,” she whispers.

“Come,” I say, “I have a private dining room booked. No public.” I get out of the private booth, and take her hand asking her to bring her wine.  A hotel waiter takes us to the private, intimate dining room. It’s a small luxurious room with old world sophistication and charm. The waiter pulls her seat for her, and places the napkin on her lap. I sit opposite to Anastasia. She finally peaks up at me from under her long lashes. I close my eyes for a brief minute and whisper, “Don’t bite your lip.” She looks up surprised.

“I’ve ordered our meal. I hope you don’t mind,” I say.

“That’s fine,” she acquiesces. Her acceptance finally gives me a well-deserved sigh of relief. She can be amenable, and I tell her that. “Now, where were we?”

“The nitty-gritty,” she responds automatically taking a sip from her wine.

“Yes, you have issues,” I say taking a copy of her e-mail out of my pocket.

“Clause 2. I agree. It’s for both of our benefit. So, I shall redraft this.” She looks at me blinking. Opts to take a sip of her wine again as if her glass of wine is going to provide the courage she lost outside of the hotel building.

“As for my sexual health; all my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks in the contract. All my tests are clear. I’ve never taken drugs, and I’m vehemently anti-drug. In fact I have a no-tolerance policy in my company, and insist on random drug testing.” Her mouth opens with a shocked face as if to tell me “what a control freak you are!”

I continue, “I never had any blood transfusions. So, are we clear on this clause?”

She nods impassively.

“The next clause is what I had told you earlier. Yes, you can walk away any time Ana. I won’t stop you,” I say even though my heart twists inside when I say that. “If however, you decide to go – that’s it. Just want to make this point clear,” I say looking into her eyes willing her to understand me.

“Okay,” she answers. A bed of oysters arrive.

“I hope you like oysters,” I say softly. She indicates that she’s never had one.

“Really?” I ask salaciously. “Well, all you do is, tip and swallow. I think you can manage that very well,” I say remembering her oral skills. She turns crimson.  I grin at her response while squirting some lemon juice onto my oyster tipping it into my mouth. Then I encourage her to do the same.

“So, I don’t chew it?” she asks so innocently. I love that about her! When she’s like that, everything disappears, every crap, every worry, just Anastasia and me.  “No, you don’t Anastasia,” I answer her with a gleam in my eyes. She bites her lip again! Damn woman! Are you trying to combust me here? I give her a warning look. She copies me by squirting lemon juice on her oyster, tips the shell and down goes her oyster. She licks her beautiful lips making me desirous and wanton, my eyes dark.

“Well?” I ask for her opinion.

“I’ll have another one,” she responds dryly.

I’m so proud of her. She’s so open to try new things, and willing to learn to enjoy them. It makes me hopeful about us, “Good girl,” I find myself responding proudly.

“Did you choose oysters on purpose? They’re after all known for their aphrodisiac qualities,” she says.

“No,” I respond honestly. Like I would need any sort of aphrodisiac in her vicinity? “They were the first on the menu, and I know that you know I need no aphrodisiac near you. And I also know that you also react the same way near me,” I say, and move one, “so where were we?”

“Oh yes, Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it as a role-play Anastasia,” I say. I have to have control. She’s too defiant, and this is the only way I know how.

“Christian...” she looks at me with fear, “I’m worried that you’ll hurt me.”

I’m surprised at her worry. “Hurt you how?”

“Physically,” she says, but her looks say more.

“Ana!” I chide her, “Do you really think that I would do that? Would I go beyond any limit you can take?”

“But you’ve said you hurt someone before.”
“I have, but that was a very long time ago."

“How then did you hurt them?”

“I suspended them from my playroom ceiling. In fact that was a question of yours. That’s what the karabiners are for. Rope play, you know. One of the ropes was tied too tightly.”

She holds her hand up not wanting to hear anymore. “I don’t want to know. I don’t think I want to be suspended. You won’t suspend me, will you?”

“Not if you don’t want to. This can be a hard limit.”

“Okay,” she gives a sigh of relief. She was clearly terrified.

“But can you manage the obeying rule?” Please, I beg inside. I need this. I have to have control.

She looks at me, trying to decipher my expression. “I will give it a try,” she whispers.

“Good,” I smile giving an inward sigh of relief. “One month of term instead of three is no term at all Anastasia. If you don’t want one of the weekends, can we agree to meet during the week? I don’t think I can stay away from you for that long, and as it is, I’m barely managing now, please?” I look at her.

Her expression changes to one of awe. “What do you say, I’ll give you a weekend day but in return I’ll get a weekday? Would that be workable?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Also, can we please try for three months Anastasia? If you don’t think it’s for you, you can then walk away anytime. Please?” I ask.

“Three months?” she says as if the words are leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She looks upset. She takes another sip of her wine as a nervous gesture. Takes another oyster to perhaps fill the silent pause she would have been having.

I continue, “The ownership thing; the terminology belongs to the principle of obeying. So you can get in the right frame of mind to understand where I’m coming from. I want you to understand one thing: As soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept it and do it willingly. That’s why I need you to trust me. I will fuck you anytime, anywhere, any way I want. If you screw up, I will discipline you. I’m going to train you to please me. Since I know that you haven’t done this before, I’ll take it slow and we’ll build up certain scenarios. You need to trust me, and I do know that I need to earn your trust. And believe me I will. The ‘or otherwise’ thing is to get you into the right mindset; meaning anything goes,” I say passionately. She just keeps staring at me wordlessly.

“Ana, are you still with me?” I whisper warm and seductive.

When the waiter comes back in, I ask her if she wants more wine, but she opts for sparkling water since she will be driving.

“You’re very quiet Anastasia,” I whisper.

“And you are very loquacious Christian,” she whispers back. I smile.

“Discipline clause. Anastasia, you need to understand that there is a very fine line between pain and pleasure; like the two sides of the same coin, one doesn’t exist without the other. I want to show you how pleasurable pain can be. Maybe you don’t believe me now, but this is why I need your trust. There will be pain, but nothing you can’t handle. Do you trust me Ana?” I ask her with intensity.

She looks up at me when I call her name, and says, “Yes, I do,” spontaneously. She trusts me! I’m relieved beyond belief. “Okay, the rest are just details then.”

“Yes, but they’re important details.”

The waiter re-emerges with the food: black cod, asparagus, mashed potatoes with hollandaise sauce. I hope she likes the food.

“Speaking of food, you say that food is a deal breaker.”

“Yes,” she responds.

“Can I change it to say you will eat three meals a day.”

“NO,” she says vehemently and firmly.

“I need to know you’re not hungry Anastasia,” I say with concern.

“Guess, you’ll have to trust me,” she responds completely disarming me. I gaze at her, and I do trust her. The thought of it relaxes me.  “I concede with food and sleep then,” I respond.

“I want to know why I can’t look at you,” she says.

“It’s a Dom/Sub thing. You’ll get used to it.” She looks at me disbelieving.

She gazes at me as if to defy me in this and asks, “Why can’t I touch you?”

How can I explain her that I’m fucked up? “Because you can’t,” I say firmly.

“Is it because Mrs. Robinson?” she asks surprising me.

Of course not! “Why would you think that?” I question her. “Do you think she traumatized me?” She nods!

“No Anastasia, she isn’t the reason. Besides, she wouldn’t take any of that shit from me.” She pouts.

“So, this has nothing to do with her then...” she says with a tone of question.

“No. Also, I don’t want you to touch yourself either.”

“Just curious but, why?” she asks.

“Because Anastasia,” I lean in with passion, “I want all your pleasure,” in a husky and determined voice.
“You have a lot to think about,” I say.

“Yes, you gave me a lot to consider,” she agrees.

“Would you like to go over the soft limits?” I ask. She looks sick.
“Not over dinner,” she says making me smile.
“Are you squeamish Miss Steele?” I whisper.
“You can say that,” she whispers back.
“You haven’t eaten enough.”
“Actually, I have had enough,” she says with meaning. But I know how much she ate. I have a mental inventory of it. Three oysters, four bites of cod, one stalk of asparagus, and nothing else. When I relay that to her, she looks shocked that I can recall all she has eaten.

“You said I could trust you,” I look into her eyes questioning.

“Christian, it isn’t every day I have a conversation such as the one we’ve had. So, I would appreciate it if you give me a break, please,” she says fervently. Not enough reason. She needs to remain healthy.

“I want you to be fit and healthy Anastasia,” I say.

“I know,” she murmurs, in goes that lip again absently. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and when I open them, my eyes are full of desire, and want.

“Right now Anastasia, all I want to do is to peel that dress off of you,” I say huskily. She swallows. Her body shifts. I can see the desire in her as well. But she says, “That wouldn’t be a very good idea,” she murmurs too quietly. “We haven’t had desert yet,” she says.

“You want desert?” I say incredulous.
“Yes,” she whispers. I give her a salacious smile again.
“You could be desert,” I say suggestively. God! I want her so badly tonight. When she’s sitting before me in that purple dress, with that hair, those legs, and those lips, squirming, reminding me how she squirmed with my touch, and how responsive she was. How I am near her! It’s driving me insane! I'm going out of my mine... She's so close yet so far away! I want her, need her; right here, right now!

“I’m not sure I’m sweet enough Christian,” she whispers. Oh, I disagree Miss Steele! I’ve tasted you, and you are the sweetest thing I’ve ever had!
“Anastasia,” I say, “you are the most delicious thing I’ve tasted.”
“But Christian,” she says shyly, “You use sex as a weapon. It isn’t really fair,” she whispers staring down at her small hands. Then she raises up her beautiful blue eyes, and looks into mine, through them. Her gaze surprises me. She can see through all the crap that surrounds me. She can see the real me. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I take a thoughtful demeanor. She’s right of course.

“You’re right Ana,” I say looking at her. “One uses whatever tool that is available at his disposal. That’s the one I know. It’s my tool, my weapon, my treasure trove, my arsenal. But doesn’t change the fact how much I desire and want you! Right here! Right now!” I say with all my passion. My gaze never leaving her, I see that desire in her rises. It gives me an idea.

“I want to try something,” I say softly. She frowns, defensive, questioning. I slowly lean in, and softly and seductively say, “if you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about that. It would be very easy. You wouldn’t have to think if you were making the right decision, or if someplace was the right place. All those decisions would be made for you. I, as your Dom, would make those decision for you. You see Anastasia, I know for a fact that you want, and desire me, right this moment.”

A surprised look crosses her face. She wants to know how I could tell.

“Baby, I can tell, because, it’s all in your body language. You’re flushed with desire, because that occurs as a precursor to sex. Your breathing changes to accommodate all that blood rushing to the surface. And right now, you’re pressing your thighs together, because you’re trying to suppress your urge for me.”

She gives me a WTF look. “How do you know about my thighs?” she says disbelieving.

“One pays attention. The tablecloth moved with the movement of your legs, and I’ve learned to read a body well over the years. Experience. But I’m correct in my conclusion, aren’t I?” I say, and she flushes even more staring down to her hands.

“I haven’t finished my fish,” she says shyly.
“You would prefer the cold fish to me?” I say incredulous making her head jerk up. She glares at me and I glare back at her with desire, and want, and fire and wantonness.

“But you kept telling me you want me to eat everything on my plate,” she says. Do I look like I care about how much food she eats right now? I’m combusting before her! She’s torturing me! Denying me! Refusing me! It’s both extremely hot, and extremely frustrating! She’s my poison and my antidote! I have to have her. I know she wants me... Why is she denying me?

“You don’t fight fair Christian,” she whispers. Baby, I know! This is all I know. I have to win. It’s in my nature.

“I never have,” I simply state. I am the master of my game. I know how it’s played, and I’ve learned it very well indeed. And she is so innocent, and so inexperienced; she won’t be able to resist what I have to offer. Right now, I fucking want her! I’d take her over the table if she conceded. She frowns at me, and her eyelids slightly hood her eyes. She’s going to counter offensive!  She picks up an asparagus. Then slowly, and deliberately bites her lip looking at me! Then taking the asparagus in her hand, sucks it in her mouth! She’s trying to get me riled up! Trying to beat me in my own game. My eyes widen.

“What are you doing Anastasia?” I say through gritted teeth. She smiles sweetly, and bites off the tip saying, “I’m eating my asparagus.” My erection just shot up, and I swallow. She’s going to make me convulse without even touching. I shift in my seat to give more room to my ever growing erection.

“I think,” I whisper leaning forward, “you’re toying with me,” I say. As she always does. She bats her eyelashes, and looks innocently, like a good southern girl, she says politely, “I’m just finishing my meal, Mr. Grey.”

The damn waiter enters right at that moment, glancing at me. I’m angry with the intrusion, and he knows it. But I nod at him so he can clear the plates. I crave for her. I’m dying with desire, and I’m about to combust. I need to either have her here, or take her to my suite. I don’t think I can make it to my suite. I might claim her in the elevator!  When the waiter is still there, I might as well order her desert. I ask her if she would like any desert.

“No, thank you Christian,” she says politely adding, and completely breaking my heart, “I think I should get going.” No, no! This is a scene from my dream!

“Go? Why?” I’m unable to hide my shock and surprise. The waiter scuttles out of the room hastily scared of my reaction.

“Yes, I just need to go.” My desire for her is coming out of my pores, I’m that desperate for her!  “We both have the graduation ceremony tomorrow,” she says shyly. I stand up and say leaning in, “I don’t want you to go!”

“Please Christian, I have to,” she responds.
“Why?” Why is she leaving me? I’m scared. I remember this scene, from the most horrible nightmare I ever had!
“I have a lot to consider, you’ve put a lot on my mental plate. I think I need some distance to think clearly,” she states looking at her hands.

“I can make you stay,” I threaten as I did in my dream. Is this too a dream?

“I know you could... Very easily in fact...” she looks at me pleading. She too, desires me, but why go baby? Why deny me? “But, I don’t want you to stop me.”

I’m exasperated. I run my hand through my hair. Then look at her. With the intensity of the last two days I’ve had without her, and that session I had with John this morning, I say, “Anastasia, when you sprawled through my office doors, and were all shy, and ‘yes sir’, ‘no sir’, I thought you could be a submissive. But I now doubt that, and am discovering that you just might not have a single submissive bone in your delicious body.” I’m tense. I don’t know how she will take my honesty. Do I want to continue pursuing her? She looks down, and back up at me again.

“You may be right Christian,” she says. At that moment I make my decision. I want her. BADLY!  I want to have a chance with her! Why is everything against me in this? Can’t she see how much I desire her?

“Anastasia, I want to have the chance to explore that possibility, that you do have that tendency. You could have that,” I murmur. A lot of emotions cross through her face. I know she wants me! I know she desires me. I know that she can’t stand before me, with me, because she knows our attraction is inevitable, inescapable, that we won’t be able to keep our hands off of each other. But yet, she’s opting to go. She wants ‘more’ like she did in my dream. I can read that in her demeanor. I look down at her, caressing her chin and her lower lip I love so much. “I don’t know any other way Ana. This is me. This is who I am.” I whisper fervently.

“I know,” she says sadly, forlorn look in her face. Another moment from my dream.

I lean down to kiss her. I want her so much, I’m burning inside. I’m a man on fire! I gaze at her, seeking her approval, her permission. She reaches up the remainder of our distance meeting my lips. I start kissing her. Her hands travel into my hair twisting, puling, and trying to merge herself into me. My hand travels to the nape of her back, my other hands slides down on her back, and we’re flat against each other. Our mouths and lips exploring each other, opening, gasping, tongues twisting, and stroking. We become one with the kiss, passion rises. I want her! I need her. I have to have her. She just can’t leave.

“Can’t I persuade you to stay? Please!” I breathe between kisses. (← You Give me Something by James Morrison)

“No.” she says firmly.
“Please stay. Spend the night with me Ana.” I say.
“And not be able to touch you? I can’t.” I give out a big groan.
“Baby, you’re impossible,” I say pulling back, and I see a different expression on her. She’s running! She’s leaving me.
“Anastasia? Why does this sound like a goodbye?” I say. I’ve been here. I’ve had this moment before! Last night! And she died on me! My anxiety level rises.
“That’s because I’m leaving now,” she says not convincing me.

I lean down and say through the gritted teeth, “that’s not what I mean, and you know it!”
She closes her eyes, breathes deep. Oh God! Last night! I’ve had this moment last night!

“Christian, I need to think. I don’t know I can do this. I don’t know if this can work, or whether this is the kind of relationship I want,” she says.  I close my eyes. I don’t want to revisit last night. I will not chase her. I want her alive. Living, breathing, happy. I press my forehead against hers, and we both calm down. I kiss her on the forehead, deeply inhale her scent smelling her hair, trying to memorize her, remember her. I finally release her and take a step back.

“As you wish, Miss Steele,” I say. “I’ll escort you to the lobby.” She spoke her terms, and I spoke mine. I don’t do love, I don’t do “more.” She may be right. This may not be for me, or for her. I proffer my hand out to her. I ask her if she has her valet ticket. She fishes it out of her purse and hands it out to me.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner Christian,” she murmurs.

“Always a pleasure Anastasia,” I say, but my mind is shooting on all pistons. Do I want her to go? Only tonight? What do I do? Who the fuck am I kidding? I WANT her and that’s the bottom line. When did I, Christian Grey, back away from a challenge because it was difficult? It’s not in my nature! I will see through this. I won’t let her slip through my fingers. Boundaries can always be renegotiated.

She looks up to me, as if she’s looking at me the last time, as if she’s never going to see me again. She wants me too! She desires me! We have to work this out! It has to work! My heart is breaking into million pieces! I’m dying a new death every second with the thought that she may be gone out of my life. Even the thought of it, thought of not having her, seeing her, smelling or hearing her is a new stab in my dark heart! My gaze meets hers, intense, blazing.

“You said you’re moving this weekend to Seattle. If you make the right decision, can I see you on Sunday?” I say hesitantly. This is the first time I have a slip in my control.

“We’ll see. Perhaps,” she breathes. I feel relief for a second, with the realization that she’ll have open mind. But she’s shivering in her dress.

“Anastasia, it’s chilly now, don’t you have a jacket?” I ask.

“No,” she says. I shrug mine off, and put it on her.

“I don’t want you getting sick.” I see her momentarily close her eyes, and inhale my scent off my jacket. My heart skips a beat. She wants me too!

Then I get the shock of my life when the valet drives her car up. It’s the crappy VW from my dream! My mouth drops open with shock and surprise.

“Is this your car?” I ask appalled, with still shock lacing my face I tip the valet. I can’t help but say “Is this roadworthy?” as I did in my dream.

“Yes,” she says. Oh good! Something is different, and the ominous feeling hasn’t yet left me.

“But will it make it to Seattle safely?”

“Of course,” she says exasperated. Oh no! Here it comes! “I know she’s old, but she’s mine, and my stepdad bought it for me, and yes she’s roadworthy!”

I can rectify this situation so easily. She needn’t be in this junk, a death trap! I would worry about her even if she wasn’t with me! “Oh, Anastasia, we can do better than this.”

“What are you trying to say?” she says as realization dawns on her. “You can’t, you aren’t going to buy me a car!” she says. I glare at her. How little you know me baby! You don’t want to challenge me in this. I’m a man who always gets his way.

“We’ll see about that,” I say tightly. I open the driver’s door for her. She has to take her shoes off because there’s barely any floor space. Ok, I’m getting you a car! This piece of shit is not roadworthy! My eyes are dark with concern. Had she signed her document, she wouldn’t be driving away in that piece of mobile death box! As it is, she’s tied my hands up, leaving me helpless!

“Drive safely,” I say quietly.

“Goodbye, Christian,” she says hoarsely, forlorn. “No, no! This isn’t the nightmare. She’ll be okay,” I keep telling myself. She looked hurt, and broken. She’s deep under my skin! Made a home for herself at a level so deep, I can’t pull her off! She’s mind fucking me! I can’t do a frigging thing about it! Both my hands run through my hair in double exasperation as I watch her clunker of a car drive away.

I turn around, and have the urge to run to my suite, but I fix my impassive face on, and slowly walk back to the elevators. Press the call button. And her memory is still fresh here in this elevator once again. She’s defying me, she’s playing me in my own game, and I fucking like her immensely! I want her more than I ever wanted anything else in my life! What is that?

I find myself entering my suite, and my feet make their way to my laptop. I type her a message. I want to know why she left, why she didn’t want me even though I could read the desire, the want, the yearning in her!

_______________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tonight
Date: May 25 2011 22:02
To: Anastasia Steele

Why did you run tonight Anastasia? I don’t understand. I fervently hope that I managed to answer all your questions to your complete satisfaction. I know it’s a lot to digest, and you have a lot to think about, but I sincerely hope that you give my proposal a serious consideration. I want to make this work badly. We’ll take it slow.

Please trust me.

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_______________________________________________

I have to find a way to convince her. When did I ever run away from a challenge? I just want her!  This fact will not change. The question then becomes how much I want her. Do I want her so badly that I would go to lengths I had not gone before in pursuit of a woman? One answer to that. A definite “Yes!” I wanted nothing more before!

I know she has fears. But it’s only because she doesn’t know the heights of pleasure she can climb. How can I convince her? My nightmare nearly came true, because she’s afraid of what I’m asking, and she wants more. Dr. Flynn’s question is resounding in my mind now: “Do you wish to possess her?” She’s hard to possess, nearly impossible. But I want to possess her. Claim her body and soul as she claimed me. But, how much am I willing to compromise?

There is that word again: “compromise.”

Can I shift the boundaries of my rules to accommodate a compromise for her? Maybe I can try. For her! What is she doing to me? I’m breaking all my rules for a young innocent woman! The thought of her being gone, being in someone else’s possession, guardianship, love, sex is killing me!

I pace back and forth in my suite. Exasperated, sexually frustrated, denied, defied, negotiated into breaking down, into near concession, although I’m still in negotiating mode: All by one young woman whose first sexual experience is yours truly! She’s had no real boyfriends, or even many kisses I suspect; yet she has this innate ability to confound me. Me! Christian Grey who denies others, whom others submit to. Then tomorrow’s graduation is crucial. She will have to see me. I have to make that count.

I wait for Anastasia to write me back. I want to make sure she’s made it home safely in that death trap of hers. I text her:

*Are you home safe?*

10 minutes ticks by, no response. I text her again.

*Call me*

I wait, and wait. No answer. I call her. She doesn’t answer. I hang up. I dial again. And once again, she doesn’t answer. Did she get home safe in that death trap? I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have let her go. Or I should have followed her home to make sure she made it there safely. No! That brings back the nightmare. I decide to send her another e-mail message:

_______________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tonight
Date: May 25 2011 23:59
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia, I’m worried that you didn’t make it home in that car of yours.
Let me know if you’re okay.

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_______________________________________________

I stay up a little longer to polish up the speech I’m supposed to give at tomorrow’s graduation. I wait for Anastasia to e-mail or text, but I get nothing. I call her one last time before I go to bed worried. She doesn’t answer. Is she okay? Did she make it home or is she simply ignoring me? As long as she makes it home, I can take being ignored. My desire builds up even further for her. The thoughts of her are ever present in wakefulness and sleep. How you confound me Ana!

I walk into the bedroom, change into only my boxers, and lay in bed gazing in the ceiling with the thoughts of Anastasia.

*

The photographer is wrapped around her waist like static fabric clinging to your body. Both irritating and unsightly! I narrow my eyes, questioning her.

“Why him Ana?” I ask her fervently.
“Because he’s willing to give me more. More than you are willing to provide.”
“She needs more than your money and your deviant sex you asshole!” says the photographer.
I ignore him. “What is it you want Anastasia? Tell me!” I plead with her.
“More than you’re willing to give me Christian. More than sex, more than pain and pleasure, more than a Dominant who desires to possess me! I want a boyfriend who loves me!”
“And do you think that little shit can love you like I do?” Her eyes widen as he glares at me with animosity, ready to kill. He turns his Latin eyes on me and practically growls:

“Of course I love her, asshole! What do you have to offer her other than what you’ve given so far? Hmm, what would that be. Oh yes, a concentrated dose of misery?” I continue to ignore him.

I turn to Anastasia grasping her arm, willing her to come to me.

“You don’t love me Christian! You only want what my body can give. That’s not enough for me!”
“You want hearts and flowers?” I ask.
“Yes. And more. I want love,” she whispers. “Because I love you! But, you’re not willing to reciprocate,” her last declaration becomes my undoing. I’m like Heathcliff again finding myself declaring my love to her with his words.

“If he loved you with all the power of his soul for a lifetime, he couldn’t love you as much as I do in a single day!” I say exasperated, and utter, “No one can love you like I can, least of all this piece of shit!”

“Then why don’t you ever show it to me?” she says looking at me with her big blue eyes gaze fixed on mine.

I take her in my arms, and our kiss consumes us both. (← Crazy Love by Michael Buble) 

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