50 shades of grey as told by christian - e.l.james
TRANSCRIPT
CONTENTS
AbouttheBookAbouttheAuthorAlsobyELJamesTitlePageDedicationAcknowledgments
Monday,May9,2011Saturday,May14,2011Sunday,May15,2011Thursday,May19,2011Friday,May20,2011Saturday,May21,2011Sunday,May22,2011Monday,May23,2011Tuesday,May24,2011Wednesday,May25,2011Thursday,May26,2011Friday,May27,2011Saturday,May28,2011Sunday,May29,2011Monday,May30,2011Tuesday,May31,2011Wednesday,June1,2011Thursday,June2,2011Friday,June3,2011Saturday,June4,2011Sunday,June5,2011Monday,June6,2011Tuesday,June7,2011Wednesday,June8,2011Thursday,June9,2011
Copyright
AbouttheBook
InChristian’sownwords,and throughhis thoughts, reflections,anddreams,ELJamesoffersa freshperspectiveonthelovestorythathasenthralledmillionsofreadersaroundtheworld.CHRISTIANGREYexercisescontrolinallthings;hisworldisneat,disciplined,andutterlyempty
–until theday thatAnastasiaSteele falls intohisoffice, ina tangleof shapely limbsand tumblingbrown hair. He tries to forget her, but instead is swept up in a storm of emotion he cannotcomprehendandcannotresist.Unlikeanywomanhehasknownbefore,shy,unworldlyAnaseemstosee right through him – past the business prodigy and the penthouse lifestyle to Christian’s cold,woundedheart.WillbeingwithAnadispelthehorrorsofhischildhoodthathauntChristianeverynight?Orwillhis
darksexualdesires,hiscompulsion tocontrol,and theself-loathing that fillshis souldrive thisgirlawayanddestroythefragilehopesheoffershim?
ELJames
Grey
Aftertwenty-fiveyearsworkinginTV,ELJamesdecidedtopursueherchildhooddream,andsetouttowritestoriesthatreaderswouldfallinlovewith.TheresultwasthesensuousromanceFiftyShadesofGreyanditstwosequels,FiftyShadesDarkerandFiftyShadesFreed,atrilogythatwentontosellmorethan125millioncopiesworldwidein52languages.In2012ELJameswasnamedoneofBarbaraWalters’s“TenMostFascinatingPeopleoftheYear,”
oneofTimemagazine’s“MostInfluentialPeople in theWorld,”andPublishersWeekly’s“PersonoftheYear.”Fifty Shades ofGrey stayed on theNewYorkTimes Best Seller List for 133 consecutiveweeks, and in 2015 the film adaptation—on which James worked as producer—broke box-officerecordsallovertheworldforUniversalPictures.ELJameslivesinWestLondonwithherhusband,thenovelistandscreenwriterNiallLeonard,and
their two sons. She continues to write novels while acting as producer on the upcoming movieversionsofFiftyShadesDarkerandFiftyShadesFreed.
BOOKSBYELJAMES
FiftyShadesofGrey
FiftyShadesDarker
FiftyShadesFreed
Grey
Thisbookisdedicatedtothosereaderswhoasked…andasked…andasked…andaskedforthis.
Thankyouforallthatyou’vedoneforme.
Yourockmyworldeveryday.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanksto:AnneMessitteforherguidance,goodhumor,andbeliefinme.Forhergenerositywithhertimeand
forherunstintingefforttountanglemyprose,Iamforeverindebted.TonyChirico and Russell Perreault for always looking out forme, and the fabulous production
editorial and design team who saw this book across the finish line: Amy Brosey, Lydia Buechler,KatherineHourigan,AndyHughes,ClaudiaMartinez,andMeganWilson.NiallLeonardforhislove,support,andguidance,andforbeingtheonlymanwhocanreally,really
makemelaugh.ValerieHoskins,myagent,withoutwhomI’dstillbeworkinginTV.Thankyouforeverything.KathleenBlandino,RuthClampett,andBelindaWillis:thanksforthepre-read.TheLostGirlsfortheirpreciousfriendshipandthetherapy.TheBunkerBabesfortheirconstantwit,wisdom,support,andfriendship.TheFPladiesforhelpwithmyAmericanisms.PeterBranstonforhishelpwithSFBT.BrianBrunettiforhisguidanceinflyingahelicopter.ProfessorDawnCarusiforhelpinnavigatingtheU.S.highereducationsystem.ProfessorChrisCollinsforaneducationinsoilscience.Dr.RainaSluderforherinsightsintobehavioralhealth.Andlastbutbynomeans least,mychildren. I loveyoumore thanwordscaneversay.Youbring
suchjoytomylifeandtothosearoundyou.Youarebeautiful, funny,bright,compassionateyoungmen,andIcouldnotbemoreproudofyou.
MONDAY,MAY9,2011
Ihavethreecars.Theygofastacrossthefloor.Sofast.Oneisred.Oneisgreen.Oneisyellow.Ilikethegreenone.It’sthebest.Mommylikesthem,too.IlikewhenMommyplayswiththecarsandme.Theredisherbest.Todayshesitsonthecouchstaringatthewall.Thegreencarfliesintotherug.Theredcarfollows.Thentheyellow.Crash!ButMommydoesn’tsee.Idoitagain.Crash!ButMommydoesn’tsee.Iaimthegreencaratherfeet.Butthegreencargoesunderthecouch.Ican’treachit.Myhandistoobigforthegap.Mommydoesn’tsee.Iwantmygreencar.ButMommystaysonthecouchstaringatthewall.Mommy.Mycar.Shedoesn’thearme.Mommy.Ipullherhandandsheliesbackandcloseshereyes.Notnow,Maggot.Notnow,shesays.Mygreencarstaysunderthecouch.It’salwaysunderthecouch.Icanseeit.ButIcan’treachit.Mygreencarisfuzzy.Coveredingrayfuranddirt.Iwantitback.ButIcan’treachit.Icanneverreachit.Mygreencarislost.Lost.AndIcanneverplaywithitagain.
Iopenmyeyesandmydreamfadesintheearly-morninglight.Whatthehellwasthatabout? Igraspatthefragmentsastheyrecede,butfailtocatchanyofthem.
Dismissingit,likeIdomostmornings,Iclimboutofbedandfindsomenewlylaunderedsweatsinmywalk-incloset.Outside,a leadenskypromisesrain,andI’mnot inthemoodtoberainedonduringmyruntoday.Iheadupstairstomygym,switchontheTVforthemorningbusinessnews,andstepontothetreadmill.
My thoughts stray to theday. I’venothingbutmeetings, though I’mseeingmypersonal trainerlaterforaworkoutatmyoffice—Bastilleisalwaysawelcomechallenge.
MaybeIshouldcallElena?Yeah.Maybe.Wecandodinnerlaterthisweek.Istopthetreadmill,breathless,andheaddowntotheshowertostartanothermonotonousday.
“TOMORROW,”IMUTTER,DISMISSINGClaudeBastilleashestandsatthethresholdofmyoffice.“Golf, thisweek,Grey.”Bastille grinswitheasy arrogance, knowing thathis victoryon thegolf
courseisassured.Iscowlathimasheturnsandleaves.Hispartingwordsrubsaltintomywoundsbecause,despite
myheroicattemptsduringourworkouttoday,mypersonaltrainerhaskickedmyass.Bastilleis theonlyonewhocanbeatme,andnowhewantsanotherpoundoffleshonthegolfcourse.Idetestgolf,butsomuchbusinessisdoneonthefairways,Ihavetoendurehislessonsthere,too…andthoughIhatetoadmitit,playingagainstBastilledoesimprovemygame.
As I stare out the window at the Seattle skyline, the familiar ennui seeps unwelcome intomyconsciousness.Mymood is as flat andgray as theweather.Mydays areblending togetherwithnodistinction,and Ineed somekindofdiversion. I’veworkedallweekend,andnow, in thecontinuedconfinesofmyoffice,I’mrestless.Ishouldn’tfeelthisway,notafterseveralboutswithBastille.ButIdo.
I frown.The sobering truth is that the only thing to capturemy interest recently has beenmydecisiontosendtwofreightersofcargotoSudan.Thisremindsme—Rosissupposedtocomebacktomewithnumbersandlogistics.Whatthehelliskeepingher?Icheckmyscheduleandreachforthephone.
Damn. I have to endure an interviewwith the persistentMiss Kavanagh for theWSU studentnewspaper.WhythehelldidIagreeto this? I loathe interviews—inanequestions fromill-informed,enviouspeopleintentonprobingmyprivatelife.Andshe’sastudent.Thephonebuzzes.
“Yes,”IsnapatAndrea,asifshe’stoblame.AtleastIcankeepthisinterviewshort.“MissAnastasiaSteeleisheretoseeyou,Mr.Grey.”“Steele?IwasexpectingKatherineKavanagh.”“It’sMissAnastasiaSteelewho’shere,sir.”Ihatetheunexpected.“Showherin.”Well, well…Miss Kavanagh is unavailable. I know her father, Eamon, the owner of Kavanagh
Media.We’ve done business together, and he seems like a shrewd operator and a rational humanbeing.Thisinterviewisafavortohim—onethatImeantocashinonlaterwhenitsuitsme.AndIhave toadmit Iwasvaguelycuriousabouthisdaughter, interested to see if theapplehas fallen farfromthetree.
Acommotionat thedoorbringsmetomyfeetasawhirlof longchestnuthair,palelimbs,andbrownbootsdivesheadfirst intomyoffice.Repressingmynatural annoyance at suchclumsiness, Ihurryovertothegirlwhohaslandedonherhandsandkneesonthefloor.Claspingslimshoulders,Ihelphertoherfeet.
Clear, embarrassedeyesmeetmineandhaltme inmy tracks.They are themost extraordinarycolor,powderblue,andguileless,andforoneawfulmoment,IthinkshecanseerightthroughmeandI’mleft…exposed.Thethoughtisunnerving,soIdismissitimmediately.
Shehasasmall,sweetfacethatisblushingnow,aninnocentpalerose.Iwonderbrieflyifallherskinislikethat—flawless—andwhatitwouldlooklikepinkandwarmedfromthebiteofacane.
Damn.Istopmywaywardthoughts,alarmedattheirdirection.Whatthehellareyouthinking,Grey?This
girlismuchtooyoung.Shegapesatme,andIresistrollingmyeyes.Yeah,yeah,baby,it’sjustaface,andit’sonlyskindeep.Ineedtodispelthatadmiringlookfromthoseeyesbutlet’shavesomefunintheprocess!
“MissKavanagh.I’mChristianGrey.Areyouallright?Wouldyouliketosit?”There’sthatblushagain.Incommandoncemore,Istudyher.She’squiteattractive—slight,pale,
withamaneofdarkhairbarelycontainedbyahairtie.Abrunette.
Yeah, she’sattractive. Iextendmyhandas shestutters thebeginningofamortifiedapologyandplacesherhandinmine.Herskiniscoolandsoft,butherhandshakesurprisinglyfirm.
“MissKavanagh is indisposed, so she sentme. Ihope youdon’tmind,Mr.Grey.”Her voice isquietwithahesitantmusicality,andsheblinkserratically,longlashesfluttering.
UnabletokeeptheamusementfrommyvoiceasIrecallherless-than-elegantentranceintomyoffice,Iaskwhosheis.
“Anastasia Steele. I’m studying English literature with Kate, um…Katherine…um…MissKavanagh,atWSUVancouver.”
A bashful, bookish type, eh? She looks it: poorly dressed, her slight frame hidden beneath ashapelesssweater,anA-linebrownskirt,andutilitarianboots.Doesshehaveanysenseofstyleatall?Shelooksnervouslyaroundmyoffice—everywherebutatme,Inote,withamusedirony.
Howcanthisyoungwomanbeajournalist?Shedoesn’thaveanassertiveboneinherbody.She’sflustered,meek…submissive.Bemusedatmyinappropriatethoughts,Ishakemyheadandwonderiffirst impressions are reliable.Muttering someplatitude, I askher to sit, thennoticeherdiscerninggaze appraisingmyofficepaintings.Before I can stopmyself, I find I’mexplaining them. “A localartist.Trouton.”
“They’re lovely.Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” she says dreamily, lost in the exquisite,fineartistryofTrouton’swork.Herprofile isdelicate—anupturnednose,soft, full lips—andinherwords she has captured my sentiments exactly. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary. It’s a keenobservation.MissSteeleisbright.
Iagreeandwatch, fascinated,as that flushcreepsslowlyoverher skinoncemore.As I sitdownopposite her, I try to bridlemy thoughts. She fishes some crumpled sheets of paper and a digitalrecorder out of her large bag. She’s all thumbs, dropping the damned thing twice onmyBauhauscoffee table. It’s obvious she’s never done this before, but for some reason I can’t fathom, I find itamusing.Undernormalcircumstanceshermaladroitnesswouldirritatethehelloutofme,butnowIhidemysmilebeneathmyindexfingerandresisttheurgetosetitupforhermyself.
Asshefumblesandgrowsmoreandmoreflustered,itoccurstomethatIcouldrefinehermotorskillswiththeaidofaridingcrop.Adeptlyused,itcanbringeventhemostskittishtoheel.Theerrantthoughtmakesmeshiftinmychair.Shepeeksupatmeandbitesdownonherfullbottomlip.
Fuck!HowdidInotnoticehowinvitingthatmouthis?“S-Sorry,I’mnotusedtothis.”Icantell,baby,butrightnowIdon’tgiveadamnbecauseIcan’ttakemyeyesoffyourmouth.“Take all the time you need, Miss Steele.” I need another moment to marshal my wayward
thoughts.Grey…stopthis,now.“DoyoumindifIrecordyouranswers?”sheasks,herfacecandidandexpectant.Iwanttolaugh.“Afteryou’vetakensomuchtroubletosetuptherecorder,youaskmenow?”Sheblinks,hereyes largeand lost foramoment,andI’movercomebyanunfamiliar twingeof
guilt.Stopbeingsuchashit,Grey.“No,Idon’tmind.”Idon’twanttoberesponsibleforthatlook.
“DidKate,Imean,MissKavanagh,explainwhattheinterviewwasfor?”“Yes, to appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper, as I shall be giving the
commencement address at this year’s graduationceremony.”Why thehell I’ve agreed todo that, Idon’tknow.SaminPRtellsmethatWSU’senvironmentalsciencesdepartmentneedsthepublicityinordertoattractadditionalfundingtomatchthegrantI’vegiventhem,andSamwillgotoanylengthsformediaexposure.
MissSteeleblinksoncemore, as if this isnews toher—and she looksdisapproving.Hasn’t shedone any backgroundwork for this interview?She should know this.The thought coolsmy blood.It’s…displeasing,notwhatIexpectfromsomeonewho’simposingonmytime.
“Good.Ihavesomequestions,Mr.Grey.”Shetucksalockofhairbehindherear,distractingmefrommyannoyance.
“Ithoughtyoumight,”Isaydryly.Let’smakehersquirm.Obligingly,shedoes,thenpullsherselfuprightandsquareshersmallshoulders.Shemeansbusiness.Leaningforward,shepresses thestartbuttonontherecorderandfrownsassheglancesdownathercrumplednotes.
“You’reveryyoungtohaveamassedsuchanempire.Towhatdoyouoweyoursuccess?”Surely she can do better than this. What a dull question. Not one iota of originality. It’s
disappointing.Itrotoutmyusualresponseabouthavingexceptionalpeopleworkingforme.PeopleItrust, insofaras I trustanyone,andpaywell—blah,blah,blah…ButMissSteele, thesimple fact is,I’mbrilliantatwhatIdo.Formeit’slikefallingoffalog.Buyingailing,mismanagedcompaniesandfixingthem,keepingsomeor,ifthey’rereallybroken,strippingtheirassetsandsellingthemofftothehighest bidder. It’s simply a question of knowing the difference between the two, and invariably itcomesdowntothepeopleincharge.Tosucceedinbusinessyouneedgoodpeople,andIcanjudgeaperson,betterthanmost.
“Maybeyou’rejustlucky,”shesaysquietly.Lucky?Afrissonofannoyancerunsthroughme.Lucky?Howdareshe?Shelooksunassumingand
quiet,butthisquestion?NoonehaseversuggestedthatIwaslucky.Hardwork,bringingpeoplewithme,keepingaclosewatchonthem,andsecond-guessingthemifIneedto,andiftheyaren’tuptothetask,ditchingthem.That’swhatIdo,andIdoitwell.It’snothingtodowithluck!Well,tohellwiththat.Flauntingmyerudition,IquotethewordsofAndrewCarnegie,myfavorite industrialist.“Thegrowthanddevelopmentofpeopleisthehighestcallingofleadership.”
“Yousoundlikeacontrolfreak,”shesays,andshe’sperfectlyserious.Whatthehell?Maybeshecanseethroughme.“Control”ismymiddlename,sweetheart.Iglareather,hopingtointimidateher.“Oh,Iexercisecontrolinallthings,MissSteele.”AndI’d
liketoexerciseitoveryou,righthere,rightnow.That attractive blush steals across her face, and she bites that lip again. I ramble on, trying to
distractmyselffromhermouth.“Besides, immensepower isacquiredbyassuringyourself, inyour secret reveries, thatyouwere
borntocontrolthings.”“Doyoufeelthatyouhaveimmensepower?”sheasksinasoft,soothingvoice,butshearchesa
delicatebrowwith a look that conveysher censure. Is shedeliberately trying to goadme? Is it her
questions,herattitude,orthefactthatIfindherattractivethat’spissingmeoff?Myannoyancegrows.“Iemployover forty thousandpeople.Thatgivesmeacertainsenseof responsibility—power, if
youwill.IfIweretodecideIwasnolongerinterestedinthetelecommunicationsbusinessandsell,twentythousandpeoplewouldstruggletomaketheirmortgagepaymentsafteramonthorso.”
Hermouthpopsopenatmyresponse.That’smorelikeit.Suckitup,baby.Ifeelmyequilibriumreturning.
“Don’tyouhaveaboardtoanswerto?”“Iownmycompany.Idon’thavetoanswertoaboard.”Sheshouldknowthis.“Anddoyouhaveany interestsoutsideyourwork?” shecontinueshastily,correctlygaugingmy
reaction.SheknowsI’mpissed,andforsomeinexplicablereasonthispleasesme.“I have varied interests, Miss Steele. Very varied.” Images of her in assorted positions in my
playroomflashthroughmymind:shackledonthecross,spread-eagledonthefour-poster,splayedoverthewhippingbench.Andbehold—there’sthatblushagain.It’slikeadefensemechanism.
“Butifyouworksohard,whatdoyoudotochillout?”“Chillout?”Thosewordsoutofhersmartmouthsoundoddbutamusing.Besides,whendoIget
timetochillout?ShehasnoideawhatIdo.Butshelooksatmeagainwiththoseingenuousbigeyes,andtomysurpriseIfindmyselfconsideringherquestion.WhatdoIdotochillout?Sailing,flying,fucking…testingthelimitsofattractivebrunetteslikeher,andbringingthemtoheel…Thethoughtmakesmeshiftinmyseat,butIanswerhersmoothly,omittingafewfavoritehobbies.
“Youinvestinmanufacturing.Why,specifically?”“I liketobuildthings.I liketoknowhowthingswork:whatmakesthingstick,howtoconstruct
anddeconstruct.AndIhavealoveofships.WhatcanIsay?”Theytransportfoodaroundtheplanet.“Thatsoundslikeyourhearttalking,ratherthanlogicandfacts.”Heart?Me?Ohno,baby.Myheart was savaged beyond recognition a long time ago. “Possibly. Though there are people
who’dsayIdon’thaveaheart.”“Whywouldtheysaythat?”“Becausetheyknowmewell.”Igiveherawrysmile.Infact,nooneknowsmethatwell,except
maybe Elena. I wonder what she would make of little Miss Steele here. The girl is a mass ofcontradictions:shy,awkward,obviouslybright,andarousingashell.
Yes,okay,Iadmitit.Ifindheralluring.Sherecitesthenextquestionbyrote.“Wouldyourfriendssayyou’reeasytogettoknow?”“I’maveryprivateperson. Igoa longway toprotectmyprivacy. Idon’toftengive interviews.”
DoingwhatIdo,livingthelifeI’vechosen,Ineedmyprivacy.“Whydidyouagreetodothisone?”“BecauseI’mabenefactoroftheuniversity,andforall intentsandpurposes,Icouldn’tgetMiss
Kavanaghoffmyback.ShebadgeredandbadgeredmyPRpeople,andIadmirethatkindoftenacity.”ButI’mgladit’syouwhoturnedupandnother.
“Youalsoinvestinfarmingtechnologies.Whyareyouinterestedinthisarea?”“Wecan’teatmoney,MissSteele,andtherearetoomanypeopleonthisplanetwhodon’thave
enoughfood.”Istareather,poker-faced.“That sounds very philanthropic. Is that something you feel passionately about? Feeding the
world’spoor?”Sheregardsmewithapuzzledlook,asifI’maconundrum,butthere’snowayIwantherseeingintomydarksoul.Thisisnotanareaopentodiscussion.Moveitalong,Grey.
“It’sshrewdbusiness,”Imutter, feigningboredom,andI imaginefuckingthatmouthtodistractmyself fromall thoughtsofhunger.Yes,hermouthneeds training,andI imagineheronherkneesbeforeme.Now,thatthoughtisappealing.
Shereciteshernextquestion,draggingmeawayfrommyfantasy.“Doyouhaveaphilosophy?Ifso,whatisit?”
“Idon’thaveaphilosophyassuch.Maybeaguidingprinciple—Carnegie’s:‘Amanwhoacquirestheabilitytotakefullpossessionofhisownmindmaytakepossessionofanythingelsetowhichheisjustlyentitled.’I’mverysingular,driven.Ilikecontrol—ofmyselfandthosearoundme.”
“Soyouwanttopossessthings?”Yes,baby.You,forone.Ifrown,startledbythethought.“Iwanttodeservetopossessthem,butyes,bottomline,Ido.”“You sound like the ultimate consumer.” Her voice is tinged with disapproval, pissing me off
again.“Iam.”Shesoundslikearichkidwho’shadallsheeverwanted,butasItakeacloserlookatherclothes—
she’s dressed in clothes from some cheap store likeOldNavy orH&M—I know that isn’t it. Shehasn’tgrownupinanaffluenthousehold.
Icouldreallytakecareofyou.Wherethehelldidthatthoughtcomefrom?Although, now that I consider it, I do need a new sub. It’s been, what—two months since
Susannah?AndhereIam,salivatingoverthiswoman.Itryanagreeablesmile.Nothingwrongwithconsumption—afterall,itdriveswhat’sleftoftheAmericaneconomy.
“Youwereadopted.Howmuchdoyouthinkthat’sshapedthewayyouare?”Whatdoesthishavetodowiththepriceofoil?Whataridiculousquestion.IfI’dstayedwiththe
crackwhore,I’dprobablybedead.Iblowheroffwithanon-answer,tryingtokeepmyvoicelevel,butshepushesme,demandingtoknowhowoldIwaswhenIwasadopted.
Shutherdown,Grey!Mytonegoescold.“That’samatterofpublicrecord,MissSteele.”Sheshouldknowthis, too.Nowshelookscontriteasshetucksanescapedstrandofhairbehind
herear.Good.“You’vehadtosacrificefamilylifeforyourwork.”“That’snotaquestion,”Isnap.She startles, clearly embarrassed, but she has the grace to apologize and she rephrases the
question:“Haveyouhadtosacrificefamilylifeforyourwork?”WhatdoIwantwithafamily?“Ihaveafamily.Ihaveabrother,asister,andtwolovingparents.
I’mnotinterestedinextendingmyfamilybeyondthat.”
“Areyougay,Mr.Grey?”Whatthehell!Icannotbelieveshe’ssaidthatoutloud!Ironically,thequestionevenmyownfamilywillnotask.
Howdareshe!Ihaveasuddenurgetodragheroutofherseat,bendherovermyknee,spankher,andthenfuckherovermydeskwithherhands tiedbehindherback.Thatwouldanswerherridiculousquestion.Itakeadeepcalmingbreath.Tomyvindictivedelight,sheappearstobemortifiedbyherownquestion.
“No,Anastasia,I’mnot.”Iraisemyeyebrows,butkeepmyexpressionimpassive.Anastasia.It’salovelyname.Ilikethewaymytonguerollsaroundit.
“Iapologize.It’s,um…writtenhere.”She’satitagainwiththehairbehindtheear.Obviouslyit’sanervoushabit.
Are these not her questions? I ask her, and she pales. Damn, she really is attractive, in anunderstatedsortofway.
“Er…no.Kate—MissKavanagh—shecompiledthequestions.”“Areyoucolleaguesonthestudentpaper?”“No.She’smyroommate.”Nowondershe’sallovertheplace.Iscratchmychin,debatingwhetherornottogiveherareally
hardtime.“Didyouvolunteertodothisinterview?”Iask,andI’mrewardedwithhersubmissivelook:she’s
nervousaboutmyreaction.IliketheeffectIhaveonher.“Iwasdrafted.She’snotwell.”Hervoiceissoft.“Thatexplainsagreatdeal.”There’saknockatthedoor,andAndreaappears.“Mr.Grey,forgivemeforinterrupting,butyournextmeetingisintwominutes.”“We’renotfinishedhere,Andrea.Pleasecancelmynextmeeting.”Andreagapesatme,lookingconfused.Istareather.Out!Now! I’mbusywith littleMissSteele
here.“Verywell,Mr.Grey,”shesays,recoveringquickly,andturningonherheel,sheleavesus.I turnmy attention back to the intriguing, frustrating creature onmy couch. “Wherewerewe,
MissSteele?”“Please,don’tletmekeepyoufromanything.”Ohno,baby.It’smyturnnow.Iwanttoknowifthereareanysecretstouncoverbehindthatlovely
face.“Iwanttoknowaboutyou.Ithinkthat’sonlyfair.”AsIleanbackandpressmyfingerstomylips,
hereyesflicktomymouthandsheswallows.Ohyes—theusualeffect.Anditisgratifyingtoknowsheisn’tcompletelyobliviousofmycharms.
“There’snotmuchtoknow,”shesays,herblushreturning.I’mintimidatingher.“Whatareyourplansafteryougraduate?”“Ihaven’tmadeanyplans,Mr.Grey.Ijustneedtogetthroughmyfinalexams.”
“Werunanexcellentinternshipprogramhere.”Whatpossessedmeevertosaythat?It’sagainsttherules,Grey.Neverfuckthestaff…Butyou’re
notfuckingthisgirl.Shelookssurprised,andherteethsinkintothatlipagain.Whyisthatsoarousing?“Oh.I’llbearthatinmind,”shereplies.“ThoughI’mnotsureI’dfitinhere.”“Whydoyousaythat?”Iask.What’swrongwithmycompany?“It’sobvious,isn’tit?”“Nottome.”I’mconfoundedbyherresponse.She’sflusteredagainasshereachesfortherecorder.Shit, she’sgoing.Mentally I run throughmy schedule for that afternoon—there isnothing that
won’tkeep.“Wouldyoulikemetoshowyouaround?”“I’msureyou’refartoobusy,Mr.Grey,andIdohavealongdrive.”“You’re driving back to Vancouver?” I glance out the window. It’s one hell of a drive, and it’s
raining. She shouldn’t be driving in this weather, but I can’t forbid her. The thought irritatesme.“Well,you’dbetterdrivecarefully.”MyvoiceissternerthanIintend.Shefumbleswiththerecorder.Shewantsoutofmyoffice,andtomysurprise,Idon’twanthertogo.
“Didyougeteverythingyouneed?”Iaskinatransparentefforttoprolongherstay.“Yes,sir,”shesaysquietly.Herresponsefloorsme—thewaythosewordssound,comingoutofthat
smartmouth—andbrieflyIimaginethatmouthatmybeckandcall.“Thankyoufortheinterview,Mr.Grey.”“Thepleasure’sbeenallmine,” I respond—truthfully,because Ihaven’tbeen this fascinatedby
anyoneforawhile.Thethoughtisunsettling.ShestandsandIextendmyhand,eagertotouchher.“Untilwemeetagain,MissSteele.”Myvoiceislowassheplacesherhandinmine.Yes,Iwantto
flog and fuck this girl inmyplayroom.Haveher bound andwanting…needingme, trustingme. Iswallow.
Itain’tgoingtohappen,Grey.“Mr.Grey.”Shenodsandwithdrawsherhandquickly,tooquickly.Ican’tlethergolikethis.It’sobviousshe’sdesperatetoleave.It’sirritating,butinspirationhitsme
asIopenmyofficedoor.“Justensuringyoumakeitthroughthedoor,”Iquip.Herlipsformahardline.“That’sveryconsiderate,Mr.Grey,”shesnaps.MissSteelebitesback!Igrinbehindherassheexits,andfollowherout.BothAndreaandOlivia
lookupinshock.Yeah,yeah.I’mjustseeingthegirlout.“Didyouhaveacoat?”Iask.“Ajacket.”IgiveOliviaapointedlookandsheimmediatelyleapsuptoretrieveanavyjacket,passingit to
mewithherusualsimperingexpression.Christ,Oliviaisannoying—mooningovermeallthetime.Hmm.Thejacketiswornandcheap.MissAnastasiaSteeleshouldbebetterdressed.Iholditup
forher,andasIpullitoverherslimshoulders,Itouchtheskinatthebaseofherneck.Shestillsatthecontactandpales.
Yes!Sheisaffectedbyme.Theknowledgeisimmenselypleasing.Strollingovertotheelevator,Ipressthecallbuttonwhileshestandsfidgetingbesideme.
Oh,Icouldstopyourfidgeting,baby.Thedoorsopenandshescurriesin,thenturnstofaceme.She’smorethanattractive.Iwouldgo
asfarastosayshe’sbeautiful.“Anastasia,”Isay,ingood-bye.“Christian,”sheanswers,hervoicesoft.Andtheelevatordoorsclose,leavingmynamehangingin
theairbetweenus,soundingoddandunfamiliar,butsexyashell.Ineedtoknowmoreaboutthisgirl.“Andrea,”IbarkasIreturntomyoffice.“GetmeWelchontheline,now.”AsIsitatmydeskandwaitforthecall,Ilookatthepaintingsonthewallofmyoffice,andMiss
Steele’swordsdriftbacktome.“Raisingtheordinarytoextraordinary.”Shecouldsoeasilyhavebeendescribingherself.
Myphonebuzzes.“IhaveMr.Welchonthelineforyou.”“Puthimthrough.”“Yes,sir.”“Welch,Ineedabackgroundcheck.”
SATURDAY,MAY14,2011
ANASTASIAROSESTEELE
DOB:
Sept.10,1989,Montesano,WA
Address:
1114SWGreenStreet,Apartment7,HavenHeights,Vancouver,WA98888
MobileNo:
360-959-4352
SocialSecurityNo:
987-65-4320
Bank:
WellsFargoBank,Vancouver,WA:Acct.No.:309361:$683.16balance
Occupation:
UndergraduateStudentWSUVancouverCollegeofArtsandSciencesEnglishMajor
GPA:
4.0
PriorEducation:
MontesanoJr.Sr.HighSchool
SATScore:
2150
Employment:
Clayton’sHardwareStore,NWVancouverDrive,Portland,OR(part-time)
Father:
FranklinA.Lambert,DOB:Sept.1,1969,DeceasedSept.11,1989
Mother:
CarlaMayWilksAdams,DOB:July18,1970m.FrankLambertMarch1,1989,widowedSept.11,1989m.RaymondSteeleJune6,1990,divorcedJuly12,2006m.StephenM.MortonAug.16,2006,divorcedJan.31,2007m.BobAdamsApril6,2009
PoliticalAffiliations:
NoneFound
ReligiousAffiliations:
NoneFound
SexualOrientation:
NotKnown
Relationships:
NoneIndicatedatPresent
IporeovertheexecutivesummaryforthehundredthtimesinceIreceivedittwodaysago,lookingforsomeinsightintotheenigmaticMissAnastasiaRoseSteele.Icannotgetthedamnedwomanoutof my mind, and it’s seriously beginning to piss me off. This past week, during particularly dullmeetings,I’vefoundmyselfreplayingtheinterviewinmyhead.Herfumblingfingersontherecorder,thewayshetuckedherhairbehindherear,thelipbiting.Yes.Thelipbitinggetsmeeverytime.
AndnowhereIam,parkedoutsideClayton’s,amom-and-pophardwarestoreontheoutskirtsofPortlandwheresheworks.
You’reafool,Grey.Whyareyouhere?Iknew itwould lead to this.Allweek…Iknew I’dhave to seeheragain. I’dknown it since she
utteredmynameintheelevator.I’dtriedtoresist.I’dwaitedfivedays,fivetediousdays,toseeifI’dforgetabouther.
AndIdon’tdowaiting.Ihatewaiting…foranything.I’veneverpursuedawomanbefore.ThewomenI’vehadunderstoodwhatIexpectedofthem.My
fearnowisthatMissSteeleisjusttooyoungandthatshewon’tbeinterestedinwhatIhavetooffer.Willshe?Willsheevenmakeagoodsubmissive?Ishakemyhead.SohereIam,anass,sittinginasuburbanparkinglotinadrearypartofPortland.
Herbackgroundcheckhasproducednothingremarkable—exceptthelastfact,whichhasbeenat
theforefrontofmymind.It’sthereasonI’mhere.Whynoboyfriend,MissSteele?Sexualorientationunknown—perhapsshe’sgay.Isnort,thinkingthatunlikely.Irecallthequestionsheaskedduringtheinterview,heracuteembarrassment, thewayher skin flushedapale rose…I’vebeen suffering fromtheselasciviousthoughtssinceImether.
That’swhyyou’rehere.I’m itching to see her again—those blue eyes have hauntedme, even inmy dreams. I haven’t
mentionedher toFlynn,andI’mgladbecauseI’mnowbehavinglikeastalker.Perhaps I should lethimknow.No.Idon’twanthimhoundingmeabouthislatestsolution-based-therapyshit.Ijustneedadistraction,andrightnowtheonlydistractionIwantistheoneworkingasasalesclerkinahardwarestore.
You’vecomeallthisway.Let’sseeiflittleMissSteeleisasappealingasyouremember.Showtime,Grey.AbellchimesaflatelectronicnoteasIwalkintothestore.It’smuchbiggerthanitlooksfromthe
outside, andalthough it’s almost lunchtime theplace is quiet, for aSaturday.There are aisles andaislesoftheusualjunkyou’dexpect.I’dforgottenthepossibilitiesthatahardwarestorecouldpresenttosomeonelikeme.Imainlyshoponlineformyneeds,butwhileI’mhere,maybeI’llstockuponafewitems:Velcro,splitrings—Yeah.I’llfindthedelectableMissSteeleandhavesomefun.
Ittakesmeallofthreesecondstospother.She’shunchedoverthecounter,staringintentlyatacomputer screen and picking at her lunch—abagel. Absentmindedly, shewipes a crumb from thecornerofherlipsandintohermouthandsucksonherfinger.Mycocktwitchesinresponse.
WhatamI,fourteen?My body’s reaction is irritating. Maybe this will stop if I fetter, fuck, and flog her…and not
necessarilyinthatorder.Yeah.That’swhatIneed.She is thoroughly absorbed by her task, and it givesme an opportunity to study her. Salacious
thoughtsaside,she’sattractive,seriouslyattractive.I’verememberedherwell.She looks up and freezes. It’s as unnerving as the first time I met her. She pins me with a
discerningstare—shocked,Ithink—andIdon’tknowifthisisagoodresponseorabadresponse.“MissSteele.Whatapleasantsurprise.”“Mr.Grey,”shesays,breathyandflustered.Ah,agoodresponse.“Iwas in the area. I need to stock up on a few things. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”A real
pleasure.She’sdressedinatightT-shirtandjeans,nottheshapelessshitshewaswearingearlierthisweek.She’salllonglegs,narrowwaist,andperfecttits.Herlipsarestillpartedinsurprise,andIhavetoresisttheurgetotipherchinupandclosehermouth.I’veflownfromSeattlejusttoseeyou,andthewayyoulookrightnow,itwasreallyworththejourney.
“Ana.Myname’sAna.WhatcanIhelpyouwith,Mr.Grey?”Shetakesadeepbreath,squareshershoulders like she did in the interview, and gives me a fake smile that I’m sure she reserves forcustomers.
Gameon,MissSteele.“ThereareafewitemsIneed.Tostartwith,I’dlikesomecableties.”Myrequestcatchesheroffguard;shelooksstunned.
Oh,thisisgoingtobefun.You’dbeamazedwhatIcandowithafewcableties,baby.“Westockvariouslengths.ShallIshowyou?”shesays,findinghervoice.“Please.Leadtheway.”Shestepsoutfrombehindthecounterandgesturestowardoneoftheaisles.She’swearingchucks.
IdlyIwonderwhatshe’dlooklikeinskyscraperheels.Louboutins…nothingbutLouboutins.“They’rewiththeelectricalgoods,aisleeight.”Hervoicewaversandsheblushes…Sheisaffectedbyme.Hopebloomsinmychest.She’snotgay,then.Ismirk.“Afteryou.”Iholdmyhandoutforhertoleadtheway.Lettingherwalkaheadgivesmethespace
and time to admireher fantastic ass.Her long, thick ponytail keeps time like ametronome to thegentle sway of her hips. She really is the whole package: sweet, polite, and beautiful, with all thephysical attributes I value in a submissive. But the million-dollar question is, could she be asubmissive? She probably knows nothing of the lifestyle—my lifestyle—but I very much want tointroducehertoit.Youaregettingwayaheadofyourselfonthisdeal,Grey.
“Are you inPortland onbusiness?” she asks, interruptingmy thoughts.Her voice is high; she’sfeigningdisinterest.Itmakesmewanttolaugh.Womenrarelymakemelaugh.
“IwasvisitingtheWSUfarmingdivision.It’sbasedinVancouver,”Ilie.Actually,I’mheretoseeyou,MissSteele.
Herfacefalls,andIfeellikeashit.“I’mcurrently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science.”That, at least, is
true.“Allpartofyourfeed-the-worldplan?”Shearchesabrow,amused.“Somethinglikethat,”Imutter.Isshelaughingatme?Oh,I’dlovetoputastoptothatifsheis.
But how to start?Maybewith dinner, rather than the usual interview…now, that would be novel:takingaprospectouttodinner.
We arrive at the cable ties, which are arranged in an assortment of lengths and colors.Absentmindedly,myfingerstraceoverthepackets.Icouldjustaskheroutfordinner.Likeonadate?Wouldsheaccept?WhenIglanceathershe’sexaminingherknottedfingers.Shecan’tlookatme…thisispromising.Iselectthelongerties.Theyaremoreflexible,afterall,astheycanaccommodatetwoanklesandtwowristsatonce.
“Thesewilldo.”“Isthereanythingelse?”shesaysquickly—eithershe’sbeingsuper-attentiveorshewantstogetme
outofthestore,Idon’tknowwhich.“I’dlikesomemaskingtape.”“Areyouredecorating?”“No,notredecorating.”Oh,ifyouonlyknew…“Thisway,”shesays.“Maskingtapeisinthedecoratingaisle.”Comeon,Grey.Youdon’t havemuch time.Engageher in some conversation. “Have youworked
herelong?”Ofcourse,Ialreadyknowtheanswer.Unlikesomepeople,Idomyresearch.Forsomereasonshe’sembarrassed.Christ, thisgirl is shy. Idon’thaveahope inhell.She turnsquicklyand
walksdowntheaisletowardthesectionlabeledDecorating.Ifollowhereagerly,likeapuppy.“Fouryears,” shemumblesaswereach themasking tape.Shebendsdownandgrasps tworolls,
eachadifferentwidth.“I’lltakethatone.”Thewidertapeismuchmoreeffectiveasagag.Asshepassesittome,thetips
ofourfingerstouch,briefly.Itresonatesinmygroin.Damn!Shepales.“Anythingelse?”Hervoiceissoftandhusky.Christ,I’mhavingthesameeffectonherthatshehasonme.Maybe…“Somerope,Ithink.”“Thisway.”Shescootsuptheaisle,givingmeanotherchancetoappreciateherfineass.“Whatsortwereyouafter?Wehavesyntheticandnaturalfilamentrope…twine…cablecord…”Shit—stop.Igroaninwardly,tryingtochaseawaytheimageofhersuspendedfromtheceilingin
myplayroom.“I’ll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please.” It’s coarser and chafes more if you
struggleagainstit…myropeofchoice.Atremorrunsthroughherfingers,butshemeasuresoutfiveyardslikeapro.Pullingautilityknife
from her right pocket, she cuts the rope in one swift gesture, coils it neatly, and ties it off with aslipknot.Impressive.
“WereyouaGirlScout?”“Organizedgroupactivitiesaren’treallymything,Mr.Grey.”“Whatisyourthing,Anastasia?”HerpupilsdilateasIstare.Yes!“Books,”sheanswers.“Whatkindofbooks?”“Oh,youknow.Theusual.Theclassics.Britishliterature,mainly.”Britishliterature?TheBrontësandAusten,Ibet.Allthoseromantichearts-and-flowerstypes.That’snotgood.“Anythingelseyouneed?”“Idon’tknow.Whatelsewouldyourecommend?”Iwanttoseeherreaction.“Forado-it-yourselfer?”sheasks,surprised.Iwant tohootwith laughter.Oh,baby,DIY isnotmy thing. Inod, stiflingmymirth.Hereyes
flickdownmybodyandItense.She’scheckingmeout!“Coveralls,”sheblurtsout.It’sthemostunexpectedthingI’veheardhersaysincethe“Areyougay?”question.“Youwouldn’twanttoruinyourclothing.”Shegesturestomyjeans.Ican’tresist.“Icouldalwaystakethemoff.”“Um.”Sheflushesbeetredandstaresdown.Iputheroutofhermisery.“I’lltakesomecoveralls.HeavenforbidIshouldruinanyclothing.”
Withoutaword,sheturnsandwalksbrisklyuptheaisle,andIfollowinherenticingwake.
“Do you need anything else?” she says, sounding breathless as she hands me a pair of bluecoveralls.She’smortified,eyesstillcastdown.Christ,shedoesthingstome.
“How’sthearticlecomingalong?”Iask,inthehopeshemightrelaxalittle.Shelooksupandgivesmeabriefrelievedsmile.Finally.“I’mnotwritingit,Katherineis.MissKavanagh.Myroommate,she’sthewriter.She’sveryhappy
withit.She’stheeditorofthenewspaper,andshewasdevastatedthatshecouldn’tdotheinterviewinperson.”
It’sthelongestsentenceshe’sutteredsincewefirstmet,andshe’stalkingaboutsomeoneelse,notherself.Interesting.
Before I can comment, she adds, “Her only concern is that she doesn’t have any originalphotographsofyou.”
ThetenaciousMissKavanaghwantsphotographs.Publicitystills,eh?Icandothat.ItwillallowmetospendtimewiththedelectableMissSteele.
“Whatsortofphotographsdoesshewant?”Shegazesatmeforamoment,thenshakesherhead,perplexed,notknowingwhattosay.“Well,I’maround.Tomorrow,perhaps…”IcanstayinPortland.Workfromahotel.Aroomat
TheHeathman,perhaps.I’llneedTaylortocomedown,bringmylaptopandsomeclothes.OrElliot—unlesshe’sscrewingaround,whichishisusualMOovertheweekend.
“You’dbewillingtodoaphotoshoot?”Shecannotcontainhersurprise.Igiveherabriefnod.Yeah,Iwanttospendmoretimewithyou…Steady,Grey.“Katewillbedelighted—ifwecanfindaphotographer.”Shesmilesandherfacelightsuplikea
cloudlessdawn.She’sbreathtaking.“Letmeknowabouttomorrow.”Ipullmywalletfrommyjeans.“Mycard.Ithasmycellnumber
onit.You’llneedtocallbeforeteninthemorning.”Andifshedoesn’t,I’llheadonbacktoSeattleandforgetaboutthisstupidventure.
Thethoughtdepressesme.“Okay.”Shecontinuestogrin.“Ana!”Webothturnasayoungmandressedincasualdesignergearappearsatthefarendofthe
aisle.HiseyesarealloverMissAnastasiaSteele.Whothehellisthisprick?“Er,excusemeforamoment,Mr.Grey.”Shewalkstowardhim,andtheassholeengulfsherina
gorilla-likehug.Mybloodrunscold.It’saprimalresponse.Getyourfuckingpawsoffher.Ifistmyhandsandamonlyslightlymollifiedwhenshedoesn’treturnhishug.Theyfallintoawhisperedconversation.MaybeWelch’sfactswerewrong.Maybethisguyisher
boyfriend.Helookstherightage,andhecan’t takehisgreedylittleeyesoffher.Heholdsherforamomentatarm’s length,examiningher, thenstandswithhisarmrestingonhershoulder. It seemslike a casual gesture, but I know he’s staking a claim and telling me to back off. She seemsembarrassed,shiftingfromfoottofoot.
Shit.Ishouldgo.I’veoverplayedmyhand.She’swiththisguy.Thenshesayssomethingelsetohimandmovesoutofhis reach, touchinghis arm,nothishand, shrugginghimoff. It’s clear theyaren’tclose.
Good.“Er…Paul, this isChristianGrey.Mr.Grey, this isPaulClayton.Hisbrotherowns theplace.”
She givesme an odd look that I don’t understand and continues, “I’ve knownPaul ever since I’veworkedhere,thoughwedon’tseeeachotherthatoften.He’sbackfromPrinceton,wherehe’sstudyingbusiness administration.” She’s babbling, givingme a long explanation and tellingme they’re nottogether,Ithink.Theboss’sbrother,notaboyfriend.I’mrelieved,buttheextentofthereliefIfeelisunexpected,anditmakesmefrown.Thiswomanhasreallygottenundermyskin.
“Mr.Clayton.”Mytoneisdeliberatelyclipped.“Mr.Grey.”Hishandshakeislimp,likehishair.Asshole.“Waitup—nottheChristianGrey?Of
GreyEnterprisesHoldings?”Yeah,that’sme,youprick.InaheartbeatIwatchhimmorphfromterritorialtoobsequious.“Wow—isthereanythingIcangetyou?”“Anastasiahasitcovered,Mr.Clayton.She’sbeenveryattentive.”Nowfuckoff.“Cool,”hegushes,allwhiteteethanddeferential.“Catchyoulater,Ana.”“Sure,Paul,”shesays,andheamblesofftothebackofthestore.Iwatchhimdisappear.“Anythingelse,Mr.Grey?”“Just these items,” Imutter.Shit, I’moutof time,andI stilldon’tknowif I’mgoing to seeher
again.Ihavetoknowwhetherthere’sahopeinhellshemightconsiderwhatIhaveinmind.HowcanI askher?Am I ready to takeon a submissivewhoknowsnothing?She’s going toneed substantialtraining.Closingmyeyes,Iimaginetheinterestingpossibilitiesthispresents…gettingthereisgoingtobehalfthefun.Willsheevenbeupforthis?OrdoIhaveitallwrong?
Shewalksbacktothecashier’scounterandringsupmypurchases,allthewhilekeepinghereyesontheregister.
Lookatme,damnit!Iwanttoseeherfaceagainandgaugewhatshe’sthinking.Finallysheraisesherhead.“Thatwillbeforty-threedollars,please.”Isthatall?“Wouldyoulikeabag?”sheasks,asIpasshermyAmEx.“Please, Anastasia.”Her name—abeautiful name for a beautiful girl—flows smoothly overmy
tongue.Shepackstheitemsbriskly.Thisisit.Ihavetogo.“You’llcallmeifyouwantmetodothephotoshoot?”Shenodsasshehandsbackmychargecard.“Good.Untiltomorrow,perhaps.”Ican’tjustleave.IhavetoletherknowI’minterested.“Oh—
andAnastasia,I’mgladMissKavanaghcouldn’tdotheinterview.”Shelookssurprisedandflattered.Thisisgood.
Islingthebagovermyshoulderandexitthestore.Yes,againstmybetterjudgment,Iwanther.NowIhavetowait…fuckingwait…again.Utilizing
willpowerthatwouldmakeElenaproud,IkeepmyeyesaheadasItakemycelloutofmypocketandclimbintotherentalcar.I’mdeliberatelynotlookingbackather.I’mnot.I’mnot.Myeyesflicktotherearviewmirror,whereIcanseetheshopdoor,butallIseeisthequaintstorefront.She’snotinthewindow,staringoutatme.
It’sdisappointing.Ipress1onspeeddialandTayloranswersbeforethephonehasachancetoring.“Mr.Grey,”hesays.“Make reservations atTheHeathman; I’m staying inPortland thisweekend, andcan youbring
downtheSUV,mycomputer,andthepaperworkbeneathit,andachangeortwoofclothes.”“Yes,sir.AndCharlieTango?”“HaveJoemovehertoPDX.”“Willdo,sir.I’llbewithyouinaboutthreeandahalfhours.”Ihangupand start thecar.So Ihave a fewhours inPortlandwhile Iwait to see if this girl is
interestedinme.Whattodo?Timeforahike,Ithink.MaybeIcanwalkthisstrangehungeroutofmysystem.
IT’S BEEN FIVE HOURS with no phone call from the delectable Miss Steele. What the hell was Ithinking?IwatchthestreetfromthewindowofmysuiteatTheHeathman.Iloathewaiting.Ialwayshave.Theweather,nowcloudy,heldformyhikethroughForestPark,butthewalkhasdonenothingtocuremyagitation.I’mannoyedatherfornotphoning,butmostlyI’mangrywithmyself.I’mafoolforbeinghere.Whatawasteoftimeit’sbeenchasingthiswoman.WhenhaveIeverchasedawoman?
Grey,getagrip.Sighing, I check my phone once again in the hope that I’ve just missed her call, but there’s
nothing.AtleastTaylorhasarrivedandIhaveallmyshit.IhaveBarney’sreportonhisdepartment’sgrapheneteststoreadandIcanworkinpeace.
Peace?Ihaven’tknownpeacesinceMissSteelefellintomyoffice.
WHENIGLANCEUP,duskhasshroudedmysuiteingrayshadows.Theprospectofanightaloneagainisdepressing.WhileIcontemplatewhattodomyphonevibratesagainstthepolishedwoodofthedeskand anunknownbut vaguely familiar numberwith aWashington area code flashes on the screen.SuddenlymyheartispumpingasifI’veruntenmiles.
Isither?Ianswer.“Er…Mr.Grey?It’sAnastasiaSteele.”Myfaceerupts ina shit-eatinggrin.Well,well.Abreathy,nervous, soft-spokenMissSteele.My
eveningislookingup.“MissSteele.Hownicetohearfromyou.”Ihearherbreathhitchandthesoundtravelsdirectlyto
mygroin.Great.I’maffectingher.Likeshe’saffectingme.“Um—we’dliketogoaheadwiththephotoshootforthearticle.Tomorrow,ifthat’sokay.Where
wouldbeconvenientforyou,sir?”Inmyroom.Justyou,me,andthecableties.“I’mstayingatTheHeathmaninPortland.Shallwesayninethirtytomorrowmorning?”“Okay,we’llseeyouthere,”shegushes,unabletohidethereliefanddelightinhervoice.“Ilookforwardtoit,MissSteele.”IhangupbeforeshesensesmyexcitementandhowpleasedI
am.Leaningback inmychair, Igazeat thedarkening skylineandrunbothmyhands throughmyhair.
HowthehellamIgoingtoclosethisdeal?
SUNDAY,MAY15,2011
WithMobyblastinginmyearsIrundownSouthwestSalmonStreettowardtheWillametteRiver.It’s6:30inthemorningandI’mtryingtoclearmyhead.LastnightIdreamedofher.Blueeyes,breathyvoice…hersentencesendingwith“sir”as shekneltbeforeme.SinceI’vemether,mydreamshavebeenawelcomechangefromtheoccasionalnightmare.IwonderwhatFlynnwouldmakeofthat.Thethought isdisconcerting, so I ignore it andconcentrateonpushingmybody to its limits along thebankof theWillamette.Asmy feet pound thewalkway, sunshinebreaks through the clouds and itgivesmehope.
TWOHOURSLATERASIjogbacktothehotelIpassacoffeeshop.MaybeIshouldtakeherforcoffee.Likeadate?Well.No.Notadate.Ilaughattheridiculousthought.Justachat—aninterviewofsorts.ThenI
canfindoutalittlemoreaboutthisenigmaticwomanandifshe’sinterested,orifI’monawild-goosechase.I’maloneintheelevatorasIstretchout.Finishingmystretchesinmyhotelsuite,I’mcenteredandcalmforthefirsttimesinceIarrivedinPortland.BreakfasthasbeendeliveredandI’mfamished.It’s not a feeling I tolerate—ever. Sitting down to breakfast inmy sweats, I decide to eat before Ishower.
THERE’SABRISKKNOCKonthedoor.IopenitandTaylorstandsonthethreshold.“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.”“Morning.Theyreadyforme?”“Yes,sir.They’resetupinroom601.”“I’llberightdown.”Iclosethedoorandtuckmyshirtintomygraypants.Myhairiswetfrommy
shower, but I don’t give a shit.One glance at the louche fucker in themirror and I exit to followTaylortotheelevator.
Room601 is crowdedwith people, lights, and camera boxes, but I spot her immediately. She’sstandingtotheside.Herhairisloose:alush,glossymanethatfallsbeneathherbreasts.She’swearingtight jeans and chuckswith a short-sleeved navy jacket and awhiteT-shirt beneath. Are jeans andchucks her signature look?While not very convenient, they do flatter her shapely legs. Her eyes,disarmingasever,widenasIapproach.
“MissSteele,wemeetagain.”ShetakesmyextendedhandandforamomentIwanttosqueezehersandraiseittomylips.
Don’tbeabsurd,Grey.Sheturnsherdeliciouspinkandwaves in thedirectionofher friend,whois standingtooclose,
waitingformyattention.
“Mr.Grey, this isKatherineKavanagh,” she says.With reluctance I releaseherand turn to thepersistent Miss Kavanagh. She’s tall, striking, and well groomed, like her father, but she has hermother’seyes,andIhavehertothankformyintroductiontothedelightfulMissSteele.Thatthoughtmakesmefeelalittlemorebenevolenttowardher.
“ThetenaciousMissKavanagh.Howdoyoudo?I trustyou’re feelingbetter?Anastasiasaidyouwereunwelllastweek.”
“I’mfine,thankyou,Mr.Grey.”She has a firm, confident handshake, and I doubt she’s ever faced a day of hardship in her
privilegedlife.Iwonderwhythesewomenarefriends.Theyhavenothingincommon.“Thankyoufortakingthetimetodothis,”Katherinesays.“It’sapleasure,”Ireply,andglanceatAnastasia,whorewardsmewithhertelltaleflush.Isitjustmewhomakesherblush?Thethoughtpleasesme.“ThisisJoséRodriguez,ourphotographer,”Anastasiasays,andherfacelightsupassheintroduces
him.Shit.Isthistheboyfriend?RodriguezbloomsunderAna’ssweetsmile.Aretheyfucking?“Mr.Grey.”Rodriguezgivesmeadarklookasweshakehands.It’sawarning.He’stellingmeto
backoff.Helikesher.Helikesheralot.Well,gameon,kid.“Mr.Rodriguez,wherewouldyoulikeme?”Mytoneisachallenge,andhehearsit,butKatherine
intervenesandwavesmetowardachair.Ah.Shelikestobeincharge.ThethoughtamusesmeasIsit.Another young man who appears to be working with Rodriguez switches on the lights, andmomentarilyI’mblinded.
Hell!As theglare recedes I searchout the lovelyMissSteele.She’s standingat thebackof theroom,
observing theproceedings.Doesshealwaysshyaway like this?Maybe that’swhysheandKavanagharefriends;she’scontenttobeinthebackgroundandletKatherinetakecenterstage.
Hmm…anaturalsubmissive.Thephotographerappearsprofessionalenoughandabsorbedinthejobhe’sbeenassignedtodo.I
regardMissSteeleasshewatchesbothofus.Oureyesmeet;hersarehonestandinnocent,andforamomentIreconsidermyplan.Butthenshebitesherlipandmybreathcatchesinmythroat.
Backdown,Anastasia.Iwillhertostopstaring,andasifshecanhearme,she’sthefirsttolookaway.
Goodgirl.KatherineasksmetostandasRodriguezcontinuestotakesnaps.Thenwe’redoneandthisismy
chance.“Thank you again,Mr. Grey.” Katherine surges forward and shakes my hand, followed by the
photographer,whoregardsmewithill-concealeddisapproval.Hisantagonismmakesmesmile.Oh,man…youhavenoidea.
“Ilookforwardtoreadingthearticle,MissKavanagh,”Isay,givingherabriefpolitenod.It’sAnaIwanttotalkto.“Willyouwalkwithme,MissSteele?”Iask,whenIreachherbythedoor.
“Sure,”shesayswithsurprise.Seizetheday,Grey.Imuttersomeplatitudetothosestillintheroomandusherheroutthedoor,wantingtoputsome
distancebetweenherandRodriguez.Inthecorridorshestandsfiddlingwithherhair,thenherfingers,asTaylorfollowsmeout.
“I’llcallyou,Taylor,”Isay,andwhenhe’salmostoutofearshotIaskAnatojoinmeforcoffee,mybreathheldforherresponse.
Herlonglashesflickeroverhereyes.“Ihavetodriveeveryonehome,”shesayswithdismay.“Taylor,”Icallafterhim,makingherjump.ImustmakehernervousandIdon’tknowifthisis
good or bad. And she can’t stop fidgeting. Thinking about all the ways I could make her stop isdistracting.
“Aretheybasedattheuniversity?”ShenodsandIaskTaylortotakeherfriendshome.“There.Nowcanyoujoinmeforcoffee?”“Um—Mr.Grey,er—thisreally…”Shestops.Shit. It’sa “no.” I’mgoing to lose thisdeal.She looksdirectly atme,eyesbright. “Look,Taylor
doesn’thavetodrivethemhome.I’llswapvehicleswithKate,ifyougivemeamoment.”MyreliefistangibleandIgrin.Ihaveadate!Openingthedoor,IletherbackintotheroomasTaylorconcealshispuzzledlook.“Canyougrabmyjacket,Taylor?”“Certainly,sir.”Heturnsonhisheel,his lips twitchingasheheadsupthecorridor.Iwatchhimwithnarrowed
eyesashedisappearsintotheelevatorwhileIleanagainstthewallandwaitforMissSteele.WhatthehellamIgoingtosaytoher?“Howwouldyouliketobemysubmissive?”No.Steady,Grey.Let’stakethisonestageatatime.Taylorisbackwithinacoupleofminutes,holdingmyjacket.“Willthatbeall,sir?”“Yes.Thanks.”Hegivesittomeandleavesmestandinglikeanidiotinthecorridor.HowlongisAnastasiagoingtobe?Icheckmywatch.Shemustbenegotiatingthecarswapwith
Katherine.Orshe’stalkingtoRodriguez,explainingthatshe’sjustgoingforcoffeetoplacatemeandkeepmesweetforthearticle.Mythoughtsdarken.Maybeshe’skissinghimgood-bye.
Damn.Sheemergesamomentlater,andI’mpleased.Shedoesn’tlooklikeshe’sjustbeenkissed.“Okay,” shesayswithresolve.“Let’sdocoffee.”Buther reddeningcheeks somewhatundermine
herefforttolookconfident.
“Afteryou,MissSteele.”Iconcealmydelightasshefallsintostepaheadofme.AsIcatchupwithhermycuriosityispiquedaboutherrelationshipwithKatherine,specificallytheircompatibility.Iaskherhowlongthey’veknowneachother.
“Sinceourfreshmanyear.She’sagoodfriend.”Hervoiceisfullofwarmth.Anaisclearlydevoted.ShecameallthewaytoSeattletointerviewmewhenKatherinewasill,andIfindmyselfhopingthatMissKavanaghtreatsherwiththesameloyaltyandrespect.
At the elevators I press the call button and almost immediately the doors open. A couple in apassionateembracespringapart,embarrassedtobecaught.Ignoringthem,westepintotheelevator,butIcatchAnastasia’simpishsmile.
Aswetraveltothefirstfloortheatmosphereisthickwithunfulfilleddesire.AndIdon’tknowifit’semanatingfromthecouplebehindusorfromme.
Yes.Iwanther.WillshewantwhatIhavetooffer?I’m relievedwhen thedoors openagain and I takeherhand,which is cool andnot clammyas
expected.PerhapsIdon’taffectherasmuchasI’dlike.Thethoughtisdisheartening.Inourwakewehearembarrassedgigglingfromthecouple.“What is it about elevators?” Imutter. And I have to admit there’s something wholesome and
naïveabouttheirgigglingthat’stotallycharming.MissSteeleseemsthatinnocent,justlikethem,andaswewalkontothestreetIquestionmymotivesagain.
She’stooyoung.She’stooinexperienced,but,damn,Ilikethefeelofherhandinmine.InthecoffeeshopIdirecthertofindatableandaskwhatshewantstodrink.Shestuttersthrough
herorder:EnglishBreakfasttea—hotwater,bagontheside.That’sanewonetome.“Nocoffee?”“I’mnotkeenoncoffee.”“Okay,bag-outtea.Sugar?”“Nothanks,”shesays,staringdownatherfingers.“Anythingtoeat?”“Nothankyou.”Sheshakesherheadandtossesherhairoverhershoulder,highlightingglintsof
auburn.I have to wait in line while the two matronly women behind the counter exchange inane
pleasantrieswithalltheircustomers.It’sfrustratingandkeepingmefrommyobjective:Anastasia.“Hey,handsome,whatcanIgetyou?”theolderwomanaskswithatwinkleinhereye.It’sjusta
prettyface,sweetheart.“I’llhaveacoffeewithsteamedmilk.EnglishBreakfasttea.Teabagontheside.Andablueberry
muffin.”Anastasiamightchangehermindandeat.“YouvisitingPortland?”“Yes.”“Theweekend?”“Yes.”
“Theweathersurehaspickeduptoday.”“Yes.”“Ihopeyougetouttoenjoysomesunshine.”Pleasestoptalkingtomeandhurrythefuckup.“Yes,”IhissthroughmyteethandglanceoveratAna,whoquicklylooksaway.She’swatchingme.Isshecheckingmeout?Abubbleofhopeswellsinmychest.“Thereyougo.”Thewomanwinksandplacesthedrinksonmytray.“Payattheregister,honey,
andyouhaveaniceday,now.”Imanageacordialresponse.“Thankyou.”AtthetableAnastasiaisstaringatherfingers,reflectingonheavenknowswhat.Me?“Pennyforyourthoughts?”Iask.She jumpsand turns redas I setouther teaandmycoffee.Shesitsmuteandmortified.Why?
Doesshereallynotwanttobehere?“Yourthoughts?”Iaskagain,andshefidgetswiththeteabag.“Thisismyfavoritetea,”shesays,andIrevisemymentalnotethatit’sTwiningsEnglishBreakfast
tea she likes. Iwatchher dunk the teabag in the teapot. It’s an elaborate andmessy spectacle. Shefishes it out almost immediately andplaces theused teabagonher saucer.Mymouth is twitchingwithmy amusement.As she tellsme she likesher teaweak andblack, for amoment I think she’sdescribingwhatshelikesinaman.
Getagrip,Grey.She’stalkingabouttea.Enoughofthispreamble;it’stimeforsomeduediligenceinthisdeal.“Isheyourboyfriend?”Herbrowsknittogether,formingasmallvabovehernose.“Who?”Thisisagoodresponse.“Thephotographer.JoséRodriguez.”Shelaughs.Atme.Atme!AndIdon’tknowifit’sfromrelieforifshethinksI’mfunny.It’sannoying.Ican’tgethermeasure.
Doesshelikemeornot?Shetellsmehe’sjustafriend.Oh,sweetheart,hewantstobemorethanafriend.“Whydidyouthinkhewasmyboyfriend?”sheasks.“Thewayyousmiledathim,andheatyou.”Youhavenoidea,doyou?Theboyissmitten.“He’smorelikefamily,”shesays.Okay,so the lust isone-sided,andforamomentIwonder if sherealizeshowlovelyshe is.She
eyes the blueberrymuffin as I peel back the paper, and for amoment I imagineher onher kneesbesidemeas I feedher,amorselata time.The thought isdiverting—andarousing.“Doyouwantsome?”Iask.
Sheshakesherhead.“Nothanks.”Hervoice ishesitantandshe staresoncemoreatherhands.Whyisshesojittery?Maybebecauseofme?
“AndtheboyImetyesterday,atthestore.He’snotyourboyfriend?”“No.Paul’sjustafriend.Itoldyouyesterday.”Shefrownsagainasifshe’sconfused,andcrosses
herarmsindefense.Shedoesn’t likebeingaskedabout theseboys. I rememberhowuncomfortablesheseemedwhenthekidatthestoreputhisarmaroundher,stakinghisclaim.“Whydoyouask?”sheadds.
“Youseemnervousaroundmen.”Hereyeswiden.Theyreallyarebeautiful,thecoloroftheoceanatCabo,thebluestofblueseas.I
shouldtakeherthere.What?Wheredidthatcomefrom?“Ifindyouintimidating,”shesays,andlooksdown,fidgetingoncemorewithherfingers.Onthe
onehandshe’ssosubmissive,butontheothershe’s…challenging.“Youshouldfindmeintimidating.”Yeah.Sheshould.Therearen’tmanypeoplebraveenoughtotellmethatIintimidatethem.She’s
honest, and I tell her so—but when she averts her eyes, I don’t know what she’s thinking. It’sfrustrating.Doesshelikeme?OrisshetoleratingthismeetingtokeepKavanagh’sinterviewontrack?Whichisit?
“You’reamystery,MissSteele.”“There’snothingmysteriousaboutme.”“Ithinkyou’reveryself-contained.”Likeanygoodsubmissive.“Exceptwhenyoublush,ofcourse,
which isoften. I justwish I knewwhat youwereblushingabout.”There.Thatwill goadher intoaresponse.Poppingasmallpieceoftheblueberrymuffinintomymouth,Iawaitherreply.
“Doyoualwaysmakesuchpersonalobservations?”That’snotthatpersonal,isit?“Ihadn’trealizedIwas.HaveIoffendedyou?”“No.”“Good.”“Butyou’reveryhigh-handed.”“I’musedtogettingmyownway,Anastasia.Inallthings.”“Idon’tdoubtit,”shemutters,andthenwantstoknowwhyIhaven’taskedhertocallmebymy
firstname.What?AndIrememberherleavingmyofficeintheelevator—andhowmynamesoundedcomingoutof
hersmartmouth.Hassheseenthroughme?Is shedeliberatelyantagonizingme?I tellher thatnoonecallsmeChristian,exceptmyfamily…
Idon’tevenknowifit’smyrealname.Don’tgothere,Grey.Ichangethesubject.Iwanttoknowabouther.“Areyouanonlychild?”
Hereyelashesflutterseveraltimesbeforesheanswersthatsheis.“Tellmeaboutyourparents.”SherollshereyesandIhavetofightthecompulsiontoscoldher.“MymomlivesinGeorgiawithhernewhusband,Bob.MystepdadlivesinMontesano.”OfcourseIknowallthisfromWelch’sbackgroundcheck,butit’simportanttohearitfromher.
Herlipssoftenwithafondsmilewhenshementionsherstepdad.“Yourfather?”Iask.“MyfatherdiedwhenIwasababy.”ForamomentI’mcatapulted intomynightmares, lookingataprostratebodyonagrimy floor.
“I’msorry,”Imutter.“Idon’trememberhim,”shesays,draggingmebacktothenow.Herexpressionisclearandbright,
andIknowthatRaymondSteelehasbeenagoodfather to thisgirl.Hermother’s relationshipwithher,ontheotherhand—thatremainstobeseen.
“Andyourmotherremarried?”Herlaughisbitter.“Youcouldsaythat.”Butshedoesn’telaborate.She’soneofthefewwomen
I’vemetwhocansitinsilence.Whichisgreat,butnotwhatIwantatthemoment.“You’renotgivingmuchaway,areyou?”“Neitherareyou,”sheparries.Oh,MissSteele.Gameon.Andit’swithgreatpleasureandasmirkthatIremindherthatshe’sinterviewedmealready.“Ican
recollectsomequiteprobingquestions.”Yes.YouaskedmeifIwasgay.Mystatementhasthedesiredeffectandshe’sembarrassed.Shestartsbabblingaboutherselfanda
fewdetailshithome.Hermotherisanincurableromantic.Isupposesomeoneonherfourthmarriageisembracinghopeoverexperience.Isshelikehermother?Ican’tbringmyselftoaskher.Ifshesayssheis—thenIhavenohope.AndIdon’twantthisinterviewtoend.I’menjoyingmyselftoomuch.
I ask about her stepfather and she confirmsmy hunch. It’s obvious she loves him.Her face isluminouswhenshetalksabouthim:hisjob(he’sacarpenter),hishobbies(helikesEuropeansoccerandfishing).Shepreferredtolivewithhimwhenhermommarriedthethirdtime.
Interesting.Shestraightenshershoulders.“Tellmeaboutyourparents,”shedemands,inanattempttodivert
theconversationfromherfamily.Idon’tliketalkingaboutmine,soIgiveherthebaredetails.“Mydad’salawyer,mymomisapediatrician.TheyliveinSeattle.”“Whatdoyoursiblingsdo?”Shewantstogothere?IgivehertheshortanswerthatElliotworksinconstructionandMiaisat
cookingschoolinParis.Shelistens,rapt.“IhearParisislovely,”shesayswithadreamyexpression.“It’sbeautiful.Haveyoubeen?”“I’veneverleftmainlandUSA.”Thecadenceinhervoicefalls,tingedwithregret.Icouldtakeher
there.“Wouldyouliketogo?”FirstCabo,nowParis?Getagrip,Grey.“ToParis?Ofcourse.Butit’sEnglandthatI’dreallyliketovisit.”Herfacebrightenswithexcitement.MissSteelewantstotravel.ButwhyEngland?Iaskher.“It’sthehomeofShakespeare,Austen,theBrontësisters,ThomasHardy.I’dliketoseetheplaces
thatinspiredthosepeopletowritesuchwonderfulbooks.”It’sobviousthisisherfirstlove.Books.ShesaidasmuchinClayton’syesterday.ThatmeansI’mcompetingwithDarcy,Rochester,and
AngelClare:impossibleromanticheroes.Here’stheproofIneeded.She’sanincurableromantic,likehermother—andthisisn’tgoingtowork.Toaddinsulttoinjury,shelooksatherwatch.She’sdone.
I’veblownthisdeal.“I’dbettergo.Ihavetostudy,”shesays.Ioffer towalkherback toher friend’s car,whichmeans I’llhave thewalkback to thehotel to
makemycase.ButshouldI?“Thankyouforthetea,Mr.Grey,”shesays.“You’re welcome, Anastasia. It’smy pleasure.” As I say the words I realize that the last twenty
minuteshavebeen…enjoyable.Givinghermymostdazzlingsmile,guaranteedtodisarm,Iofferhermyhand.“Come,”Isay.Shetakesmyhand,andaswewalkbacktoTheHeathmanIcan’tshakehowagreeableherhandfeelsinmine.
Maybethiscouldwork.“Doyoualwayswearjeans?”Iask.“Mostly,”shesays,andit’stwostrikesagainsther:incurableromanticwhoonlywearsjeans…Ilike
mywomeninskirts.Ilikethemaccessible.“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks out of the blue, and it’s the third strike. I’m out of this
fledglingdeal.Shewantsromance,andIcan’tofferherthat.“No,Anastasia.Idon’tdothegirlfriendthing.”Strickenwithafrown,sheturnsabruptlyandstumblesintotheroad.“Shit,Ana!”Ishout,tugginghertowardmetostopherfromfallinginthepathofanidiotcyclist
who’sflyingthewrongwayupthestreet.Allofasuddenshe’sinmyarmsclutchingmybiceps,staringupatme.Hereyesarestartled,andforthefirsttimeInoticeadarkerringofbluecirclingheririses;they’rebeautiful,morebeautifulthisclose.HerpupilsdilateandIknowIcouldfallintohergazeandneverreturn.Shetakesadeepbreath.
“Areyouokay?”Myvoice soundsalienanddistant,and I realize she’s touchingmeand Idon’tcare.Myfingerscaresshercheek.Herskinissoftandsmooth,andasIbrushmythumbagainstherlowerlip,mybreathcatchesinmythroat.Herbodyispressedagainstmine,andthefeelofherbreastsandherheatthroughmyshirtisarousing.Shehasafresh,wholesomefragrancethatremindsmeofmygrandfather’sappleorchard.Closingmyeyes,Iinhale,committingherscenttomemory.WhenIopenthemshe’sstillstaringatme,entreatingme,beggingme,hereyesonmymouth.
Shit.Shewantsmetokissher.AndIwantto.Justonce.Herlipsareparted,ready,waiting.Hermouthfeltwelcomingbeneath
mythumb.No.No.No.Don’tdothis,Grey.She’snotthegirlforyou.Shewantsheartsandflowers,andyoudon’tdothatshit.Iclosemyeyestoblotheroutandfightthetemptation,andwhenIopenthemagain,mydecision
ismade.“Anastasia,”Iwhisper,“youshouldsteerclearofme.I’mnotthemanforyou.”Thelittlevformsbetweenherbrows,andIthinkshe’sstoppedbreathing.“Breathe,Anastasia,breathe.”IhavetolethergobeforeIdosomethingstupid,butI’msurprised
atmyreluctance.Iwanttoholdherforamomentlonger.“I’mgoingtostandyouupandletyougo.”Istepbackandshereleasesherholdonme,yetweirdly,Idon’tfeelanyrelief.Islidemyhandstohershoulders to ensure she can stand.Her expression cloudswith humiliation. She’smortified bymyrebuff.
Hell.Ididn’tmeantohurtyou.“I’vegotthis,”shesays,disappointmentringinginherclippedtone.She’sformalanddistant,but
shedoesn’tmoveoutofmyhold.“Thankyou,”sheadds.“Forwhat?”“Forsavingme.”AndIwanttotellherthatI’msavingherfromme…thatit’sanoblegesture,butthat’snotwhat
shewantstohear.“Thatidiotwasridingthewrongway.I’mgladIwashere.Ishuddertothinkwhatcouldhavehappenedtoyou.”Nowit’smethat’sbabbling,andIstillcan’tlethergo.Ioffertositwithherinthehotel,knowingit’saploytoprolongmytimewithher,andonlythendoIreleaseher.
She shakes her head, her back ramrod stiff, andwraps her arms around herself in a protectivegesture.AmomentlatersheboltsacrossthestreetandIhavetohurrytokeepupwithher.
Whenwereachthehotel,sheturnsandfacesmeoncemore,composed.“Thanksfortheteaanddoingthephotoshoot.”Sheregardsmedispassionatelyandregretflaresinmygut.
“Anastasia…I…”Ican’tthinkwhattosay,exceptthatI’msorry.“What,Christian?”shesnaps.Whoa. She’smad atme, pouring all the contempt she can into each syllable ofmy name. It’s
novel.Andshe’sleaving.AndIdon’twanthertogo.“Goodluckwithyourexams.”Hereyesflashwithhurtandindignation.“Thanks,”shemutters,disdaininhertone.“Good-bye,
Mr.Grey.”Sheturnsawayandstridesupthestreet towardtheundergroundgarage.Iwatchhergo,hopingthatshe’llgivemeasecondlook,butshedoesn’t.Shedisappearsintothebuilding,leavinginherwakeatraceofregret,thememoryofherbeautifulblueeyes,andthescentofanappleorchardinthefall.
THURSDAY,MAY19,2011
No!Myscreambouncesoffthebedroomwallsandwakesmefrommynightmare.I’msmotheredinsweat,with the stenchof stale beer, cigarettes, andpoverty inmynostrils and a lingering dread ofdrunkenviolence.Sittingup,IputmyheadinmyhandsasItrytocalmmyescalatedheartrateanderraticbreathing.It’sbeenthesameforthelastfournights.Glancingattheclock,Iseeit’s3:00a.m.
Ihavetwomajormeetingstomorrow…today…andIneedaclearheadandsomesleep.Damnit,whatI’dgiveforagoodnight’ssleep.AndIhavearoundoffuckinggolfwithBastille.Ishouldcancelthegolf;thethoughtofplayingandlosingdarkensmyalreadybleakmood.
Clamberingoutofbed,Iwanderdownthecorridorandintothekitchen.There,Ifillaglasswithwaterandcatchsightofmyself,dressedonlyinpajamapants,reflectedintheglasswallattheothersideoftheroom.Iturnawayindisgust.
Youturnedherdown.Shewantedyou.Andyouturnedherdown.Itwasforherowngood.This has needled me for days now. Her beautiful face appears in my mind without warning,
tauntingme.IfmyshrinkwasbackfromhisvacationinEnglandIcouldcallhim.Hispsychobabbleshitwouldstopmefeelingthislousy.
Grey,shewasjustaprettygirl.PerhapsIneedadistraction;anewsub,maybe.It’sbeentoolongsinceSusannah.Icontemplate
callingElena in themorning.Shealways finds suitablecandidates forme.But the truth is, Idon’twantanyonenew.
IwantAna.Her disappointment, herwounded indignation, andher contempt remainwithme. Shewalked
away without a backward glance. Perhaps I raised her hopes by asking her out for coffee, only todisappointher.
MaybeIshouldfindsomewaytoapologize,thenIcanforgetaboutthiswholesorryepisodeandgetthegirloutofmyhead.Leavingtheglassinthesinkformyhousekeepertowash,Itrudgebacktobed.
THERADIOALARMJOLTStolifeat5:45asI’mstaringattheceiling.Ihaven’tsleptandI’mexhausted.Fuck!Thisisridiculous.Theprogramontheradioisawelcomedistractionuntilthesecondnewsitem.It’saboutthesale
ofararemanuscript:anunfinishednovelbyJaneAustencalledTheWatsonsthat’sbeingauctionedinLondon.
“Books,”shesaid.Christ.EventhenewsremindsmeoflittleMissBookworm.She’s an incurable romanticwho loves theEnglish classics. But then so do I, but for different
reasons. I don’thave any JaneAusten first editions, orBrontës, for thatmatter…but I dohave twoThomasHardys.
Ofcourse!Thisisit!ThisiswhatIcando.MomentslaterI’minmylibrarywithJudetheObscureandaboxedsetofTessofthed’Urbervilles
in its threevolumes laidouton thebilliard table in frontofme.Botharebleakbooks,with tragicthemes.Hardyhadadark,twistedsoul.
Likeme.I shakeoff the thoughtandexamine thebooks.Even though Jude is inbetter condition, it’sno
contest.InJudethereisnoredemption,soI’llsendherTess,withasuitablequote.Iknowit’snotthemostromanticbook,consideringtheevilsthatbefalltheheroine,butshehasabrieftasteofromanticloveinthebucolicidyllthatistheEnglishcountryside.AndTessdoesexactrevengeonthemanwhowrongedher.
Butthat’snotthepoint.AnamentionedHardyasafavoriteandI’msureshe’sneverseen,letaloneowned,afirstedition.
“Yousoundliketheultimateconsumer.”Herjudgmentalretortfromtheinterviewcomesbacktohauntme.Yes.Iliketopossessthings,thingsthatwillriseinvalue,likefirsteditions.
Feelingcalmerandmorecomposed,andalittlepleasedwithmyself,Iheadbackintomyclosetandchangeintomyrunninggear.
INTHEBACKOFthecarIleafthroughbookoneoftheTessfirstedition,lookingforaquote,andatthesame timewonderwhenAna’s lastexamwill takeplace. I read thebookyearsagoandhaveahazyrecollectionoftheplot.FictionwasmysanctuarywhenIwasateenager.MymotheralwaysmarveledthatIread;Elliotnotsomuch.Icravedtheescapethatfictionprovided.Hedidn’tneedanescape.
“Mr.Grey,”Taylorinterrupts.“We’rehere,sir.”Heclimbsoutofthecarandopensmydoor.“I’llbeoutsideattwoo’clocktotakeyoutoyourgolfgame.”
InodandheadintoGreyHouse,thebookstuckedundermyarm.Theyoungreceptionistgreetsmewithaflirtatiouswave.
Everyday…Likeacheesytuneonrepeat.Ignoringher,Imakemywaytotheelevatorthatwilltakemestraighttomyfloor.“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey,”Barryonsecuritygreetsmeashepressesthebuttontosummonthe
elevator.“How’syourson,Barry?”“Better,sir.”“I’mgladtohearit.”Istepintotheelevatoranditshootsuptothetwentiethfloor.Andreaisonhandtogreetme.“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.RoswantstoseeyoutodiscusstheDarfurproject.Barneywouldlikea
fewminutes—”
Iholdmyhanduptosilenceher.“Forgetthosefornow.GetmeWelchonthelineandfindoutwhenFlynnisbackfromvacation.OnceI’vespokentoWelchwecanpickuptheday’sschedule.”
“Yes,sir.”“AndIneedadoubleespresso.GetOliviatomakeitforme.”ButlookingaroundInoticethatOliviaisabsent.It’sarelief.Thegirlisalwaysmooningoverme
andit’sfuckingirritating.“Wouldyoulikemilk,sir?”Andreaasks.Goodgirl.Igiveherasmile.“Nottoday.”IdoliketokeepthemguessinghowItakemycoffee.“Verygood,Mr.Grey.”Shelookspleasedwithherself,whichsheshouldbe.She’sthebestPAI’ve
had.ThreeminuteslatershehasWelchontheline.“Welch?”“Mr.Grey.”“Thebackgroundcheckyoudidformelastweek.AnastasiaSteele.StudyingatWSU.”“Yes,sir.Iremember.”“I’d like you to find out when her last final exam takes place and letme know as amatter of
priority.”“Verygood,sir.Anythingelse?”“No,thatwillbeall.”Ihangupandstareatthebooksonmydesk.Ineedtofindaquote.
ROS,MYNUMBERTWOandmychiefoperatingofficer,isinfullflow.“We’regettingclearancefromtheSudanese authorities to put the shipments into Port Sudan. But our contacts on the ground arehesitant about the road journey toDarfur.They’redoing a risk assessment to seehowviable it is.”Logisticsmustbetough;hernormalsunnydispositionisabsent.
“Wecouldalwaysair-drop.”“Christian,theexpenseofanairdrop—”“Iknow.Let’sseewhatourNGOfriendscomebackwith.”“Okay,”shesaysandsighs.“I’malsowaitingfortheall-clearfromtheStateDepartment.”I rollmyeyes.Fuckingred tape.“Ifwehave togreasesomepalms—orgetSenatorBlandinoto
intervene—letmeknow.”“Sothenexttopiciswheretositethenewplant.YouknowthetaxbreaksinDetroitarehuge.I
sentyouasummary.”“Iknow.ButGod,doesithavetobeDetroit?”“Idon’tknowwhatyouhaveagainsttheplace.Itmeetsourcriteria.”“Okay,getBilltocheckoutpotentialbrownfieldsites.Andlet’sdoonemoresitesearchtoseeif
anyothermunicipalitywouldoffermorefavorableterms.”“Bill has already sent Ruth out there to meet with the Detroit Brownfield Redevelopment
Authority,whocouldn’tbemoreaccommodating,butI’llaskBilltodoafinalcheck.”
Myphonebuzzes.“Yes,”IgrowlatAndrea—sheknowsIhatebeinginterruptedinameeting.“IhaveWelchforyou.”Mywatchsays11:30.Thatwasquick.“Puthimthrough.”IsignalforRostostay.“Mr.Grey?”“Welch.Whatnews?”“MissSteele’slastexamistomorrow,Maytwentieth.”Damn.Idon’thavelong.“Great.That’sallIneedtoknow.”Ihangup.“Ros,bearwithmeonemoment.”Ipickupthephone.Andreaanswersimmediately.“Andrea, Ineedablanknotecard towrite amessagewithin thenexthour,” I say, andhangup.
“Right,Ros,wherewerewe?”
AT12:30OLIVIASHUFFLESintomyofficewithlunch.She’satall,willowygirlwithaprettyface.Sadly,it’salwaysmisdirectedatmewithlonging.She’scarryingatraywithwhatIhopeissomethingedible.Afterabusymorning,I’mstarving.Shetremblesassheputsitonmydesk.
Tunasalad.Okay.Shehasn’tfuckedthisupforonce.Shealsoplacesthreedifferentwhitecards,alldifferentsizes,withcorrespondingenvelopesonmy
desk.“Great,”Imutter.Nowgo.Shescuttlesout.I take one bite of tuna to assuagemy hunger, then reach for my pen. I’ve chosen a quote. A
warning.Imadethecorrectchoice,walkingawayfromher.Notallmenareromanticheroes.I’lltaketheword“men-folk”out.She’llunderstand.
Whydidn’tyoutellmetherewasdanger?Whydidn’tyouwarnme?Ladiesknowwhattoguardagainst,becausetheyreadnovelsthattellthemofthesetricks…
IslipthecardintotheenvelopeprovidedandonitwriteAna’saddress,whichisingrainedinmymemoryfromWelch’sbackgroundcheck.IbuzzAndrea.
“Yes,Mr.Grey.”“Canyoucomein,please?”“Yes,sir.”Sheappearsatmydooramomentlater.“Mr.Grey?”“Takethese,packagethem,andcourierthemtoAnastasiaSteele,thegirlwhointerviewedmelast
week.Here’sheraddress.”“Rightaway,Mr.Grey.”
“Theyhavetoarrivebytomorrowatthelatest.”“Yes,sir.Willthatbeall?”“No.Findmeasetofreplacements.”“Forthesebooks?”“Yes.Firsteditions.GetOliviaonit.”“Whatbooksarethese?”“Tessofthed’Urbervilles.”“Yes,sir.”Shegivesmeararesmileandleavesmyoffice.Whyisshesmiling?Sheneversmiles.Dismissingthethought,IwonderifthatwillbethelastIseeofthebooks,andI
havetoacknowledgethatdeepdownIhopenot.
FRIDAY,MAY20,2011
I’vesleptwellforthefirsttimeinfivedays.MaybeI’mfeelingtheclosureIhadhopedfor,nowthatI’vesent thosebooks toAnastasia.AsI shave, theasshole in themirrorstaresbackatmewithcool,grayeyes.
Liar.Fuck.Okay.Okay.I’mhopingshe’llcall.Shehasmynumber.Mrs.JoneslooksupwhenIwalkintothekitchen.“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.”“Morning,Gail.”“Whatwouldyoulikeforbreakfast?”“I’ll have anomelet.Thank you.” I sit at the kitchencounter as shepreparesmy food and leaf
throughTheWallStreetJournalandTheNewYorkTimes,thenIporeoverTheSeattleTimes.WhileI’mlostinthepapersmyphonebuzzes.
It’sElliot.Whatthehelldoesmybigbrotherwant?“Elliot?”“Dude.IneedtogetoutofSeattlethisweekend.ThischickisallovermyjunkandI’vegottoget
away.”“Yourjunk?”“Yeah.Youwouldknowifyouhadany.”Iignorehisjibe,andthenadeviousthoughtoccurstome.“HowabouthikingaroundPortland.
Wecouldgothisafternoon.Staydownthere.ComehomeSunday.”“Soundscool.Inthechopper,ordoyouwanttodrive?”“It’sahelicopter,Elliot,andI’lldriveusdown.Comebytheofficeatlunchtimeandwe’llhead
out.”“Thanks,bro.Ioweyou.”Elliothangsup.Elliothasalwayshadaproblemcontaininghimself.Asdothewomenheassociateswith:whoever
theunfortunategirlis,she’sjustanotherinalong,longlineofhiscasualliaisons.“Mr.Grey.Whatwouldyouliketodoforfoodthisweekend?”“Justpreparesomethinglightandleaveitinthefridge.ImaybebackonSaturday.”OrImaynot.Shedidn’tgiveyouasecondglance,Grey.Havingspentagreatdealofmyworkinglifemanagingothers’expectations,Ishouldbebetterat
managingmyown.
ELLIOTSLEEPSMOSTOF theway toPortland.Poor fuckermustbe fried.Workingand fucking: that’sElliot’sraisond’être.Hesprawlsoutinthepassengerseatandsnores.
Somecompanyhe’sgoingtobe.It’llbeafterthreewhenwearriveinPortland,soIcallAndreaonthehands-free.“Mr.Grey,”sheanswersintworings.“CanyouhavetwomountainbikesdeliveredtoTheHeathman?”“Forwhattime,sir?”“Three.”“Thebikesareforyouandyourbrother?”“Yes.”“Yourbrotherisaboutsix-two?”“Yes.”“I’llgetonitrightaway.”“Great.”Ihangup,thencallTaylor.“Mr.Grey,”heanswersononering.“Whattimewillyoubehere?”“I’llcheckinaroundnineo’clocktonight.”“WillyoubringtheR8?”“Withpleasure,sir.”Taylorisacarfanatic,too.“Good.”Iendthecallandturnupthemusic.Let’sseeifElliotcansleepthroughTheVerve.AswecruisedownI-5myexcitementmounts.Havethebooksbeendeliveredyet?I’mtemptedtocallAndreaagain,butIknowI’veleftherwith
atonofwork.Besides,Idon’twanttogivemystaffanexcusetogossip.Idon’tnormallydothiskindofshit.
Whydidyousendtheminthefirstplace?BecauseIwanttoseeheragain.WepasstheexitforVancouverandIwonderifshe’sfinishedherexam.“Hey,man,whereweat?”Elliotblurts.“Behold,hewakes,”Imutter.“We’renearlythere.We’regoingmountainbiking.”“Weare?”“Yes.”“Cool.RememberwhenDadusedtotakeus?”“Yep.” I shake my head at the memory. My father is a polymath, a real renaissance man:
academic, sporting, at ease in the city, more at ease in the great outdoors. He’d embraced threeadoptedkids…andI’mtheonewhodidn’tliveuptohisexpectations.
But before I hit adolescence we had a bond. He’d been my hero. He used to love taking uscampinganddoingalltheoutdoorpursuitsInowenjoy:sailing,kayaking,biking,wediditall.
Pubertyruinedallthatforme.
“Ifiguredifwewerearrivingmid-afternoon,wewouldn’thavetimeforahike.”“Goodthinking.”“Sowhoareyourunningfrom?”“Man,I’malove-’em-and-leave-’emtype.Youknowthat.Nostrings.Idon’tknow,chicksfindout
yourunyourownbusinessandtheystartgettingcrazyideas.”Hegivesmeasidewayslook.“You’vegottherightideakeepingyourdicktoyourself.”
“Idon’tthinkwe’rediscussingmydick,we’rediscussingyours,andwho’sbeenonthesharpendofitrecently.”
Elliotsnickers.“I’velostcount.Anyway,enoughofme.How’sthestimulatingworldofcommerceandhighfinance?”
“Youreallywanttoknow?”Ishoothimaglance.“Nah,”hebleatsandIlaughathisapathyandlackofeloquence.“How’sthebusiness?”Iask.“Youcheckingonyourinvestment?”“Always.”It’smyjob.“Well,webrokegroundontheSpokaniEdenprojectlastweekandit’sonschedule,butthenit’s
onlybeenaweek.”Heshrugs.Beneathhissomewhatcasualexteriormybrotherisaneco-warrior.Hispassion for sustainable livingmakes for someheatedSundaydinner conversationswith the family,andhislatestprojectisaneco-friendlydevelopmentoflow-costhousingnorthofSeattle.
“I’m hoping to install that new gray-water system I was telling you about. It willmean all thehomeswillreducetheirwaterusageandtheirbillsbytwenty-fivepercent.”
“Impressive.”“Ihopeso.”WedriveinsilenceintodowntownPortlandandjustaswe’repullingintotheundergroundgarage
atTheHeathman—thelastplaceIsawher—Elliotmutters,“Youknowwe’remissingtheMarinersgamethisevening.”
“MaybeyoucanhaveanightinfrontoftheTV.Giveyourdickarestandwatchbaseball.”“Soundslikeaplan.”
KEEPINGUPWITHELLIOTisachallenge.Hetearsdownthetrailwiththesamedevil-may-fucking-careattitudeheappliestomostsituations.Elliotknowsnofear—it’swhyIadmirehim.ButridingatthispaceIhavenochancetoappreciateoursurroundings.I’mvaguelyawareofthelushgreeneryflashingpastme,butmyeyesareonthetrail,tryingtoavoidthepotholes.
Bytheendoftheridewe’rebothfilthyandexhausted.“ThatwasthemostfunI’vehadwithmyclothesoninawhile,”Elliotsaysaswehandthebikes
overtothebellboyatTheHeathman.“Yeah,”Imutter,andthenrecallholdingAnastasiawhenIsavedherfromthecyclist.Herwarmth,
herbreastspressedagainstme,herscentinvadingmysenses.Ihadmyclothesonthen…“Yeah,”Imurmuragain.
Wecheckourphonesintheelevatorasweheaduptothetopfloor.Ihavee-mails,acoupleof texts fromElenaaskingwhat I’mdoing thisweekend,butnomissed
calls fromAnastasia. It’s just before 7:00—shemust have received the books by now.The thoughtdepressesme:I’vecomeallthewaytoPortlandonawild-goosechaseagain.
“Man,thatchickhascalledmefivetimesandsentmefourtexts.Doesn’tsheknowhowdesperateshecomesacross?”Elliotwhines.
“Maybeshe’spregnant.”ElliotpalesandIlaugh.“Notfunny,hotshot,”hegrumbles.“Besides,Ihaven’tknownherthatlong.Orthatoften.”
AFTERAQUICKSHOWER I joinElliot inhis suite andwe sitdown towatch the restof theMarinersgameagainst theSanDiegoPadres.Weorderupsteak, salad, fries,andacoupleofbeers,andI sitbacktoenjoythegameinElliot’seasycompany.I’veresignedmyselftothefactthatAnastasia’snotgoingtocall.TheMarinersareintheleadanditlookslikeitmightbeablowout.
Disappointinglyitisn’t,thoughtheMarinerswin4–1.GoMariners!ElliotandIclinkbeerbottles.As thepostgameanalysisdroneson,myphonebuzzes andMissSteele’snumber flasheson the
screen.It’sher.“Anastasia?”Idon’thidemysurpriseormypleasure.Thebackgroundisnoisyanditsoundslike
she’satapartyorinabar.Elliotglancesatme,soIgetupoffthesofaandoutofhisearshot.“Whydidyousendmethebooks?”She’sslurringherwords,andawaveofapprehensionripples
downmyspine.“Anastasia,areyouokay?Yousoundstrange.”“I’mnotthestrangeone,youare.”Hertoneisaccusatory.“Anastasia,haveyoubeendrinking?”Hell.Whoisshewith?Thephotographer?Where’sherfriendKate?“What’s it toyou?”Shesoundssurlyandbelligerent,andIknowshe’sdrunk,but Ialsoneed to
knowthatshe’sokay.“I’m…curious.Whereareyou?”“Inabar.”“Whichbar?”Tellme. Anxiety blooms inmy gut. She’s a youngwoman, drunk, somewhere in
Portland.She’snotsafe.“AbarinPortland.”“Howareyougettinghome?”Ipinchthebridgeofmynoseinthevainhopethattheactionwill
distractmefrommyfrayingtemper.“I’llfindaway.”Whatthehell?Willshedrive?Iaskheragainwhichbarshe’sinandsheignoresmyquestion.“Whydidyousendmethebooks,Christian?”
“Anastasia,whereareyou?Tellmenow.”Howwillshegethome?“You’re so…domineering.” She giggles. In any other situation I would find this charming. But
rightnow—IwanttoshowherhowdomineeringIcanbe.She’sdrivingmecrazy.“Ana,sohelpme,wherethefuckareyou?”Shegigglesagain.Shit,she’slaughingatme!Again!“I’minPortland…’salongwayfromSeattle.”“WhereinPortland?”“Goodnight,Christian.”Thelinegoesdead.“Ana!”Shehunguponme!Istareatthephoneindisbelief.Noonehaseverhunguponme.What the
fuck!“What’stheproblem?”Elliotcallsoverfromthesofa.“I’vejustbeendrunk-dialed.”Ipeerathimandhismouthdropsopeninsurprise.“You?”“Yep.”Ipressthecallbackbutton,tryingtocontainmytemper,andmyanxiety.“Hi,”shesays,allbreathyandtimid,andshe’sinquietersurroundings.“I’mcomingtogetyou.”MyvoiceisarcticasIwrestlewithmyangerandsnapmyphoneshut.“I’vegottogogetthisgirlandtakeherhome.Doyouwanttocome?”ElliotisstaringatmeasifI’vegrownthreeheads.“You?Withachick?ThisIhavetosee.”Elliotgrabshissneakersandstartsputtingthemon.“Ijusthavetomakeacall.”IwanderintohisbedroomwhileIdecideifIshouldcallBarneyor
Welch.Barneyisthemostseniorengineerinthetelecommunicationsdivisionofmycompany.He’satechgenius.ButwhatIwantisnotstrictlylegal.
Besttokeepthisawayfrommycompany.Ispeed-dialWelchandwithinsecondshisraspingvoiceanswers.“Mr.Grey?”“I’dreallyliketoknowwhereAnastasiaSteeleisrightnow.”“Isee.”Hepausesforamoment.“Leaveittome,Mr.Grey.”Iknowthisisoutsidethelaw,butshecouldbegettingherselfintotrouble.“Thankyou.”“I’llgetbacktoyouinacoupleofminutes.”Elliotisrubbinghishandswithglee,withastupidsmirkonhisfacewhenIreturntotheliving
room.Oh,forfuck’ssake.“Iwouldn’tmissthisfortheworld,”hesays,gloating.“I’mjustgoingtogetthecarkeys.I’llmeetyouinthegarageinfive,”Igrowl,ignoringhissmug
face.
THE BAR IS CROWDED, full of students determined to have a good time. There’s some indie crapthumpingoverthesoundsystemandthedanceflooriscrowdedwithheavingbodies.
Itmakesmefeelold.She’sheresomewhere.Elliot has followedme in through the front door. “Do you see her?” he shouts over the noise.
Scanningtheroom,IspotKatherineKavanagh.She’swithagroupoffriends,allofthemmen,sittinginabooth.There’snosignofAna,butthetableislitteredwithshotglassesandtumblersofbeer.
Well,let’sseeifMissKavanaghisasloyaltoherfriendasAnaistoher.Shelooksatmeinsurprisewhenwearriveathertable.“Katherine,” I say by way of greeting, and she interrupts me before I can ask her Ana’s
whereabouts.“Christian,whatasurprisetoseeyouhere,”sheshoutsabovethenoise.Thethreeguysatthetable
regardElliotandmewithhostilewariness.“Iwasintheneighborhood.”“And who’s this?” She smiles rather too brightly at Elliot, interrupting me again. What an
exasperatingwoman.“ThisismybrotherElliot.Elliot,KatherineKavanagh.Where’sAna?”HersmilebroadensatElliot,andI’msurprisedbyhisansweringgrin.“Ithinkshewentoutsideforsomefreshair,”Kavanaghresponds,butshedoesn’tlookatme.She
haseyesonlyforMr.Love’EmandLeave’Em.Well,it’sherfuneral.“Outside?Where?”Ishout.“Oh.Thatway.”Shepointstodoubledoorsatthefarendofthebar.Pushing through the throng, Imakemyway to thedoor, leaving the threedisgruntledmenand
KavanaghandElliotengagedinagrin-off.Throughthedoubledoorsthereisalinefortheladies’washroom,andbeyondthatadoorthat’s
opentotheoutside.It’satthebackofthebar.Ironically,itleadstotheparkinglotwhereElliotandIhavejustbeen.
Walkingoutside,Ifindmyselfinagatheringspaceadjacenttotheparkinglot—ahangoutflankedbyraisedflowerbeds,whereafewpeoplearesmoking,drinking,chatting.Makingout.Ispother.
Hell!She’swiththephotographer,Ithink,thoughit’sdifficulttotellinthedimlight.She’sinhisarms,butsheseemstobetwistingawayfromhim.Hemutterssomethingtoher,whichIdon’thear,andkissesher,alongherjaw.
“José,no,”shesays,andthenit’sclear.She’stryingtopushhimoff.Shedoesn’twantthis.ForamomentIwanttoriphisheadoff.WithmyhandsfistedatmysideImarchuptothem.“I
think the ladysaidno.”Myvoicecarries,coldandsinister, in therelativequiet,whileI struggle tocontainmyanger.
HereleasesAnaandshesquintsatmewithadazed,drunkenexpression.“Grey,” he says, his voice terse, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to smash the
disappointmentoffhisface.Anaheaves,thenbucklesoverandvomitsontheground.Oh,shit!“Ugh—Diosmío,Ana!”Joséleapsoutofthewayindisgust.Fuckingidiot.Ignoringhim,Igrabherhairandholditoutofthewayasshecontinuestothrowupeverything
she’shadthisevening.It’swithsomeannoyancethatInoteshedoesn’tappeartohaveeaten.WithmyarmaroundhershouldersIleadherawayfromthecuriousonlookerstowardoneoftheflowerbeds.“Ifyou’regoingtothrowupagain,doithere.I’llholdyou.”It’sdarkerhere.Shecanpukeinpeace.Shevomitsagainandagain,herhandsonthebrick.It’spitiful.Onceherstomachisempty,shecontinuestoretch,longdryheaves.
Boy,she’sgotitbad.Finally her body relaxes and I think she’s finished. Releasing her, I give hermy handkerchief,
whichbysomemiracleIhaveintheinsidepocketofmyjacket.Thankyou,Mrs.Jones.Wiping her mouth, she turns and rests against the bricks, avoiding eye contact because she’s
ashamedandembarrassed.AndyetI’msopleasedtoseeher.Goneismyfuryatthephotographer.I’mdelightedtobestandingintheparkinglotofastudentbarinPortlandwithMissAnastasiaSteele.
Sheputsherheadinherhands,cringes,thenpeeksupatme,stillmortified.Turningtothedoor,sheglaresovermyshoulder.Iassumeit’sather“friend.”
“I’ll, um, see you inside,” José says, but I don’t turn to starehimdown, and tomydelight, sheignoreshim,too,returninghereyestomine.
“I’msorry,”shesaysfinally,whileherfingerstwistthesoftlinen.Okay,let’shavesomefun.“Whatareyousorryfor,Anastasia?”“Thephonecall,mainly.Beingsick.Oh,thelistisendless,”shemumbles.“We’veallbeenhere,perhapsnotquiteasdramaticallyasyou.”Whyis itsuchfuntoteasethis
young woman? “It’s about knowing your limits, Anastasia. I mean, I’m all for pushing limits, butreallythisisbeyondthepale.Doyoumakeahabitofthiskindofbehavior?”
Perhapsshehasaproblemwithalcohol.Thethoughtisworrying,andIconsiderwhetherIshouldcallmymotherforareferraltoadetoxclinic.
Anafrownsforamoment,asifangry,thatlittlevformingbetweenherbrows,andIsuppresstheurgetokissit.Butwhenshespeaksshesoundscontrite.
“No,”shesays.“I’veneverbeendrunkbeforeandrightnowIhavenodesiretoeverbeagain.”Shelooksupatme,hereyesunfocused,andsheswaysalittle.Shemightpassout,sowithoutgivingitathoughtIscoopherupintomyarms.
She’ssurprisinglylight.Toolight.Thethoughtirksme.Nowondershe’sdrunk.“Comeon,I’lltakeyouhome.”
“IneedtotellKate,”shesays,asherheadrestsonmyshoulder.“Mybrothercantellher.”“What?”“MybrotherElliotistalkingtoMissKavanagh.”“Oh?”“Hewaswithmewhenyoucalled.”“InSeattle?”“No,I’mstayingatTheHeathman.”Andmywild-goosechasehaspaidoff.“Howdidyoufindme?”“Itrackedyourcellphone,Anastasia.”Iheadtowardthecar.Iwanttodriveherhome.“Doyou
haveajacketorapurse?”“Er…yes,Icamewithboth.Christian,please,IneedtotellKate.She’llworry.”I stop and bite my tongue. Kavanagh wasn’t worried about her being out here with the
overamorousphotographer.Rodriguez.That’shisname.Whatkindof friend is she?The lights fromthebarilluminateheranxiousface.
Asmuchasitpainsme,Iputherdownandagreetotakeherinside.Holdinghands,wewalkbackintothebar,stoppingatKate’stable.Oneoftheyoungmenisstillsittingthere,lookingannoyedandabandoned.
“Where’sKate?”Anashoutsabovethenoise.“Dancing,”theguysays,hisdarkeyesstaringatthedancefloor.Anacollectsherjacketandpurse
and,reachingout,sheunexpectedlyclutchesmyarm.Ifreeze.Shit.Myheartratecatapultsintooverdriveasthedarknesssurfaces,stretchingandtighteningitsclaws
aroundmythroat.“She’sonthedancefloor,”sheshouts,herwordsticklingmyear,distractingmefrommyfear.And
suddenlythedarknessdisappearsandthepoundinginmyheartceases.What?Irollmyeyestohidemyconfusionandtakehertothebar,orderalargeglassofwater,andpassit
toher.“Drink.”Eyeingmeovertheglass,shetakesatentativesip.“All of it,” I command. I’m hoping this will be enough damage control to avoid one hell of a
hangovertomorrow.WhatmighthavehappenedtoherifIhadn’tintervened?Mymoodsinks.AndIthinkofwhatjusthappenedtome.Hertouch.Myreaction.
Mymoodplummetsfurther.Ana sways a little as she’s drinking, so I steady her with a hand on her shoulder. I like the
connection—metouchingher.She’soilonmytroubled,deep,darkwaters.Hmm…flowery,Grey.Shefinishesherdrink,andretrievingtheglass,Iplaceitonthebar.Okay.Shewants to talk toher so-called friend. I survey thecrowdeddance floor,uneasy at the
thoughtofallthosebodiespressinginonmeaswefightourwaythrough.Steelingmyself, I grab her hand and lead her toward the dance floor. She hesitates, but if she
wantstotalktoherfriend,there’sonlyoneway;she’sgoingtohavetodancewithme.OnceElliotgetshisgrooveon,there’snostoppinghim;somuchforhisquietnightin.
Withatug,she’sinmyarms.ThisIcanhandle.WhenIknowshe’sgoingtotouchme,it’sokay.Icandeal,especiallysinceI’m
wearingmyjacket.IweaveusthroughthecrowdtowhereElliotandKatearemakingaspectacleofthemselves.
Stilldancing,Elliot leanstowardmeinmid-strutwhenwe’rebesidehimandsizesusupwithalookofincredulity.
“I’mtakingAnahome.TellKate,”Ishoutinhisear.HenodsandpullsKavanaghintohisarms.Right.LetmetakeMissDrunkBookwormhome,butforsomereasonsheseemsreluctanttogo.
She’swatchingKavanaghwithconcern.Whenwe’reoffthedancefloorshelooksbackatKate,thenatme,swayingandalittledazed.
“Fuck—”BysomemiracleIcatchherasshepassesoutinthemiddleofthebar.I’mtemptedtohaulherovermy shoulder, butwe’dbe too conspicuous, so I pickheruponcemore, cradlingheragainstmychest,andtakeheroutsidetothecar.
“Christ,”ImutterasIfishthekeyoutofmyjeansandholdheratthesametime.Amazingly,Imanagetogetherintothefrontseatandstrapherin.
“Ana.”Igiveheralittleshake,becauseshe’sworryinglyquiet.“Ana!”Shemumbles something incoherent and I know she’s still conscious. I know I should take her
home,butit’salongdrivetoVancouver,andIdon’tknowifshe’llbesickagain.Idon’trelishtheideaofmyAudireekingofvomit.Thesmellemanatingfromherclothesisalreadynoticeable.
IheadtoTheHeathman,tellingmyselfthatI’mdoingthisforhersake.Yeah,tellyourselfthat,Grey.
SHESLEEPS INMYarmsaswe travelup in theelevator fromthegarage. Ineed togetheroutofherjeansandhershoes.Thestalestenchofvomitpervadesthespace.I’dreallyliketogiveherabath,butthatwouldbesteppingbeyondtheboundsofpropriety.
Andthisisn’t?Inmysuite,Idropherpurseonthesofa,thencarryherintothebedroomandlayherdownonthe
bed.Shemumblesoncemorebutdoesn’twake.
Briskly I remove her shoes and socks and put them in the plastic laundry bag provided by thehotel.Then Iunzipher jeans andpull themoff, check thepocketsbefore stuffing the jeans in thelaundrybag.She fallsbackon thebed, splayedout likea starfish,allpalearmsand legs, and foramomentIpicturethoselegswrappedaroundmywaistasherwristsareboundtomySaintAndrew’scross.There’safadingbruiseonherkneeandIwonderifthat’sfromthefallshetookinmyoffice.
She’sbeenmarkedsincethen…likeme.Isitherupandsheopenshereyes.“Hello,Ana,”Iwhisper,asIremoveherjacketslowlyandwithouthercooperation.“Grey.Lips,”shemutters.“Yes,sweetheart.”Ieaseherdownontothebed.Shecloseshereyesagainandrollsontoherside,
butthistimehuddlesintoaball,lookingsmallandvulnerable.Ipullthecoversoverherandplantakissinherhair.Nowthatherfilthyclotheshavegone,atraceofherscenthasreappeared.Apples,fall,fresh,delicious…Ana.Herlipsareparted,eyelashesfanningoutoverpalecheeks,andherskinlooksflawless.OnemoretouchisallIallowmyselfasIstrokehercheekwiththebackofmyindexfinger.
“Sleepwell,”Imurmur,andthenheadintothelivingroomtocompletethelaundrylist.Whenit’sdone,Iplacetheoffendingbagoutsidemysuitesothecontentswillbecollectedandlaundered.
BeforeIcheckmye-mailsItextWelch,askinghimtoseeifJoséRodriguezhasanypolicerecords.I’mcurious.Iwanttoknowifhepreysondrunkyoungwomen.ThenIaddresstheissueofclothesforMissSteele:Isendaquicke-mailtoTaylor.
From:ChristianGreyRE:MissAnastasiaSteele
Date:May20,201123:46
To:JBTaylor
Goodmorning,
CanyoupleasefindthefollowingitemsforMissSteeleandhavethemdeliveredtomyusualroombefore10:00.
Jeans:BlueDenimSize4
Blouse:Blue.Pretty.Size4
Converse:BlackSize7
Socks:Size7
Lingerie:Underwear—SizeSmall.Bra—Estimate34C.
Thankyou.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Onceit’sdisappearedfrommyoutbox,ItextElliot.
Anaiswithme.
Ifyou’restillwithKate,tellher.
Hetextsbyreturn.
Willdo.Hopeyougetlaid.
Yousooooneedit.;)
Hisresponsemakesmesnort.Isodo,Elliot.Isodo.Iopenmyworke-mailandbegintoread.
SATURDAY,MAY21,2011
Nearly twohours later, I come to bed. It’s just after 1:45. She’s fast asleep andhasn’tmoved fromwhereIlefther.Istrip,pullonmyPJpantsandaT-shirt,andclimbinbesideher.She’scomatose;it’sunlikely she’sgoing to thrasharoundand touchme. Ihesitate foramomentas thedarkness swellswithinme,butitdoesn’tsurfaceandIknowit’sbecauseI’mwatchingthehypnoticriseandfallofherchestandI’mbreathing in syncwithher. In.Out. In.Out. In.Out.For seconds,minutes,hours, Idon’tknow,Iwatchher.AndwhileshesleepsIsurveyeverybeautifulinchofherlovelyface.Herdarklashes fluttering while she sleeps, her lips slightly parted so I glimpse her even white teeth. Shemutters something unintelligible and her tongue darts out and licks her lips. It’s arousing, veryarousing.FinallyIfallintoadeepanddreamlessslumber.
IT’SQUIETWHEN Iopenmyeyes, and I’mmomentarilydisoriented.Ohyes. I’matTheHeathman.Theclockatmybedsidesays7:43.
WhenwasthelasttimeIsleptthislate?Ana.SlowlyIturnmyhead,andshe’sfastasleep,facingme.Herbeautifulfacesoftinrepose.I have never slept with a woman. I’ve fuckedmany, but to wake up beside an alluring young
womanisanewandstimulatingexperience.Mycockagrees.Thiswillnotdo.Reluctantly,Iclimboutofbedandchangeintomyrunninggear.Ineedtoburnoffthis…excess
energy.AsIchangeintomysweatsIcan’trememberthelasttimeI’vesleptsowell.Inthelivingroom,I fireupmylaptop,checkmye-mail,andrespondtotwofromRosandone
fromAndrea.Ittakesmealittlelongerthanusual¸asI’mdistractedknowingthatAnaisasleepinthenextroom.Iwonderhowshe’llfeelwhenshewakes.
Hungover.Ah.IntheminibarI findabottleoforangejuiceandemptyit intoaglass.She’sstillasleepwhenI
enter, herhair a riot ofmahogany spread acrossher pillow, and the covershave slippedbelowherwaist.HerT-shirthasriddenup,exposingherbellyandhernavel.Thesightstirsmybodyoncemore.
Stopstandinghereoglingthegirl,forfuck’ssake,Grey.IhavetogetoutofherebeforeIdosomethingI’llregret.Placingtheglassonthebedsidetable,I
duckintothebathroom,findtwoAdvilinmytravelkit,anddepositthembesidetheglassoforangejuice.
WithonelastlingeringlookatAnastasiaSteele—thefirstwomanI’veeversleptwith—Iheadoutformyrun.
WHENIRETURNFROMmyexercise, there’sabaginthelivingroomfromastoreIdon’trecognize.ItakeapeekandseeitcontainsclothesforAna.FromwhatIcansee,Taylorhasdonewell—andallbefore9:00.
Themanisamarvel.HerpurseisonthesofawhereIdroppeditlastnight,andthedoortothebedroomisclosed,soI
assumeshe’snotleftandthatshe’sstillasleep.It’s a relief. Poring over the room-servicemenu, I decide to order some food. She’ll be hungry
when she wakes, but I have no idea what she’ll eat, so in a raremoment of indulgence I order aselectionfromthebreakfastmenu.I’minformeditwilltakehalfanhour.
TimetowakethedelectableMissSteele;she’ssleptenough.Grabbingmyworkouttowelandtheshoppingbag,Iknockonthedoorandenter.Tomydelight,
she’ssittingupinbed.Thetabletsaregoneandsoisthejuice.Goodgirl.ShepalesasIsaunterintotheroom.Keepitcasual,Grey.Youdon’twanttobechargedwithkidnapping.Shecloseshereyes,andIassumeit’sbecauseshe’sembarrassed.“Goodmorning,Anastasia.Howareyoufeeling?”“BetterthanIdeserve,”shemutters,asIplacethebagonthechair.Whensheturnshergazeto
mehereyesareimpossiblybigandblue,andthoughherhairisatangledmess…shelooksstunning.“HowdidIgethere?”sheasks,asthoughshe’safraidoftheanswer.Reassureher,Grey.Isitdownontheedgeofthebedandsticktothefacts.“Afteryoupassedout,Ididn’twanttorisk
theleatherupholsteryinmycar,takingyouallthewaytoyourapartment.SoIbroughtyouhere.”“Didyouputmetobed?”“Yes.”“DidIthrowupagain?”“No.”ThankGod.“Didyouundressme?”“Yes.”Whoelsewouldhaveundressedyou?Sheblushes, andat last shehas somecolor inhercheeks.Perfect teethbitedownonher lip. I
suppressagroan.“Wedidn’t—?”shewhispers,staringatherhands.Christ,whatkindofanimaldoesshethinkIam?“Anastasia,youwerecomatose.Necrophiliaisnotmything.”Mytoneisdry.“Ilikemywomen
sentient and receptive.” She sags with relief, whichmakesmewonder if this has happened to herbefore,thatshe’spassedoutandwokenupinastranger’sbedandfoundouthe’sfuckedherwithoutherconsent.Maybethat’sthephotographer’smodusoperandi.Thethoughtisdisturbing.ButIrecallherconfessionlastnight—thatshe’dneverbeendrunkbefore.ThankGodshehasn’tmadeahabitofthis.
“I’msosorry,”shesays,hervoicefullofshame.Hell.MaybeIshouldgoeasyonher.“It was a very diverting evening. Not one that I’ll forget in a while.” I hope that sounds
conciliatory,butherbrowcreases.“Youdidn’thavetotrackmedownwithwhateverJamesBondgadgetryyou’redevelopingforthe
highestbidder.”Whoa!Nowshe’spissed.Why?“First,thetechnologytotrackcellphonesisavailableovertheInternet.”Well,theDeepNet…“Second,mycompanydoesnotinvestormanufactureanykindofsurveillancedevices.”Mytemperisfraying,butI’monaroll.“Andthird,ifIhadn’tcometogetyou,you’dprobablybe
wakingup in thephotographer’s bed, and fromwhat I can remember, youweren’t overly enthusedabouthimpressinghissuit.”
Sheblinksacoupleoftimes,thenstartsgiggling.She’slaughingatmeagain.“Whichmedievalchronicledidyouescapefrom?Yousoundlikeacourtlyknight.”She’sbeguiling.She’scallingmeout…again,andherirreverenceisrefreshing,reallyrefreshing.
However,I’mundernoillusionthatI’maknightinshiningarmor.Boy,hasshegotthewrongidea.Andthoughitmaynotbetomyadvantage,I’mcompelledtowarnherthatthere’snothingchivalrousorcourtlyaboutme.“Anastasia,Idon’tthinkso.Darkknight,maybe.”Ifonlysheknew—andwhyarewediscussingme?Ichangethesubject.“Didyoueatlastnight?”
Sheshakesherhead.Iknewit!“Youneedtoeat.That’swhyyouweresoill.Honestly,it’sdrinkingrulenumberone.”“Areyougoingtocontinuetoscoldme?”“IsthatwhatI’mdoing?”“Ithinkso.”“You’reluckyI’mjustscoldingyou.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Well, ifyouweremine,youwouldn’tbeable to sitdown foraweekafter the stuntyoupulled
yesterday.Youdidn’teat,yougotdrunk,youputyourselfat risk.”The fear inmygut surprisesme;suchirresponsible,risk-takingbehavior.“Ihatetothinkwhatcouldhavehappenedtoyou.”
Shescowls.“Iwouldhavebeenfine.IwaswithKate.”Somehelpshewas!“Andthephotographer?”Iretort.“Joséjustgotoutofline,”shesays,dismissingmyconcernandtossinghertangledhairoverher
shoulder.“Well,thenexttimehegetsoutofline,maybesomeoneshouldteachhimsomemanners.”“You’requitethedisciplinarian,”shesnaps.
“Oh,Anastasia,youhavenoidea.”Animageofhershackledtomybench,peeledgingerroot insertedinherasssoshecan’tclench
herbuttocks,comestomind,followedbyjudicioususeofabeltorstrap.Yeah…Thatwouldteachhernottobesoirresponsible.Thethoughtishugelyappealing.
She’sstaringatmewide-eyedanddazed,anditmakesmeuncomfortable.Canshereadmymind?Orisshejustlookingataprettyface.
“I’mgoing tohave a shower.Unless you’d like to shower first?” I tellher, but shecontinues togape.Evenwithhermouthopenshe’squitelovely.She’shardtoresist,andIgrantmyselfpermissiontotouchher,tracingthelineofhercheekwithmythumb.HerbreathcatchesinherthroatasIstrokehersoftbottomlip.
“Breathe,Anastasia,”Imurmur,beforeIstandandinformherthatbreakfastwillbehereinfifteenminutes.Shesaysnothing,hersmartmouthsilentforonce.
InthebathroomItakeadeepbreath,strip,andclimbintotheshower.I’mhalftemptedtojerkoff,butthefamiliarfearofdiscoveryanddisclosure,fromanearliertimeinmylife,stopsme.
Elenawouldnotbepleased.Oldhabits.As thewatercascadesovermyheadI reflectonmy latest interactionwith thechallengingMiss
Steele.She’sstillhere,inmybed,soshecannotfindmecompletelyrepulsive.Inoticedthewayherbreathcaughtinherthroat,andhowhergazefollowedmearoundtheroom.
Yeah.There’shope.Butwouldshemakeagoodsubmissive?It’sobvioussheknowsnothingofthelifestyle.Shecouldn’tevensay“fuck”or“sex”orwhatever
bookishcollegestudentsuseasaeuphemismfor fuckingthesedays.She’squite theinnocent.She’sprobablybeensubjectedtoafewfumblingencounterswithboyslikethephotographer.
Thethoughtofherfumblingwithanyoneirksme.Icouldjustaskherifshe’sinterested.No.I’dhavetoshowherwhatshe’dbetakingonifsheagreedtoarelationshipwithme.Let’sseehowwebothfareoverbreakfast.Rinsing off the soap, I stand beneath the hot stream and gather my wits for round two with
AnastasiaSteele.Iswitchoffthewaterand,steppingoutoftheshower,grabatowel.Aquickcheckinthe steamed-upmirror and I decide to skip shaving today. Breakfast will be here shortly, and I’mhungry.QuicklyIbrushmyteeth.
WhenIopenthebathroomdoorshe’soutofbedandsearchingforherjeans.Shelooksuplikethearchetypalstartledfawn,alllonglegsandbigeyes.
“If you’re looking for your jeans, I’ve sent them to the laundry.” She really has great legs. Sheshouldn’thidetheminpants.Hereyesnarrow,andIthinkshe’sgoingtoarguewithme,soItellherwhy.“Theywerespatteredwithyourvomit.”
“Oh,”shesays.Yes.“Oh.”Now,whatdoyouhavetosaytothat,MissSteele?“IsentTayloroutforanotherpairandsomeshoes.They’reinthebagonthechair.”Inodatthe
shoppingbag.Sheraiseshereyebrows—insurprise,Ithink.“Um.I’llhaveashower,”shemutters,andthenasan
afterthoughtsheadds,“Thanks.”Grabbingthebag,shedodgesaroundme,dartsintothebathroom,andlocksthedoor.Hmm…shecouldn’tgetintothebathroomquickenough.Awayfromme.PerhapsI’mbeingtoooptimistic.Disheartened,Ibrisklydryoffandgetdressed.InthelivingroomIcheckmye-mail,butthere’s
nothingurgent.I’minterruptedbyaknockonthedoor.Twoyoungwomenhavearrivedfromroomservice.
“Wherewouldyoulikebreakfast,sir?”“Setituponthediningtable.”Walkingback into thebedroom, I catch their furtive looks, but I ignore themand suppress the
guiltIfeeloverhowmuchfoodI’veordered.We’llnevereatitall.“Breakfastishere,”Icall,andraponthebathroomdoor.“O-okay.”Ana’svoicesoundsalittlemuted.Backinthelivingroom,ourbreakfastisonthetable.Oneofthewomen,whohasdark,darkeyes,
handsmethechecktosign,andfrommywalletIpullacoupleoftwentiesforthem.“Thankyou,ladies.”“Just call room service when you want the table cleared, sir,” Miss Dark Eyes says with a
coquettishlook,asifshe’sofferingmore.Mychillysmilewarnsheroff.Sitting down at the table with the newspaper, I pourmyself a coffee andmake a start onmy
omelet.Myphonebuzzes—atextfromElliot.
KatewantstoknowifAnaisstillalive.
Ichuckle, somewhatmollified thatAna’s so-called friend is thinkingabouther. It’sobvious thatElliothasn’tgivenhisdickarestafterallhisprotestationsyesterday.Itextback.
Aliveandkicking;)
Anaappearsafewmomentslater:hairwet,intheprettyblueblousethatmatcheshereyes.Taylorhasdonewell;shelookslovely.Scanningtheroom,shespotsherpurse.
“Crap,Kate!”sheblurts.“Sheknowsyou’rehereandstillalive.ItextedElliot.”Shegivesmeanuncertainsmileasshewalkstowardthetable.“Sit,”Isay,pointingtotheplacethat’sbeensetforher.Shefrownsattheamountoffoodonthe
table,whichonlyaccentuatesmyguilt.“Ididn’tknowwhatyouliked,soIorderedaselectionfromthebreakfastmenu,”Imutterbyway
ofanapology.“That’sveryprofligateofyou,”shesays.
“Yes, it is.”Myguilt blooms.But as sheopts for thepancakes, scrambledeggs, andbaconwithmaplesyrup,andtucksin,Iforgivemyself.It’sgoodtoseehereat.
“Tea?”Iask.“Yes,please,”shesaysbetweenmouthfuls.She’sobviouslyfamished.Ipassherthesmallteapotof
water.ShegivesmeasweetsmilewhenshenoticestheTwiningsEnglishBreakfasttea.Ihavetocatchmybreathatherexpression.Anditmakesmeuneasy.Itgivesmehope.“Yourhair’sverydamp,”Iobserve.“Icouldn’tfindthehairdryer,”shesays,embarrassed.She’llgetsick.“Thankyoufortheclothes,”sheadds.“It’sapleasure,Anastasia.Thatcolorsuitsyou.”Shestaresdownatherfingers.“Youknow,youreallyshouldlearntotakeacompliment.”Perhapsshedoesn’tgetmany…butwhy?She’sgorgeousinanunderstatedway.“Ishouldgiveyousomemoneyfortheseclothes.”What?Iglareather,andshecontinuesquickly,“You’vealreadygivenmethebooks,which,ofcourse,I
can’taccept.Butthese,pleaseletmepayyouback.”Sweetheart.“Anastasia,trustme,Icanaffordit.”“That’snotthepoint.Whyshouldyoubuytheseforme?”“BecauseIcan.”I’maveryrichman,Ana.“Just because you can doesn’t mean that you should.” Her voice is soft, but suddenly I’m
wonderingifshe’slookedthroughmeandseenmydarkestdesires.“Whydidyousendmethebooks,Christian?”
BecauseIwantedtoseeyouagain,andhereyouare…“Well,whenyouwerenearlyrunoverbythecyclist—andIwasholdingyouandyouwerelooking
upatme—all‘kissme,kissme,Christian’—”Istop,recallingthatmoment,herbodypressedagainstmine.Shit.QuicklyIshrugoffthememory.“IfeltIowedyouanapologyandawarning.Anastasia,I’mnotahearts-and-flowerskindofman.Idon’tdoromance.Mytastesareverysingular.Youshouldsteerclearofme.There’s somethingaboutyou, though,andI’mfinding it impossible to stayaway.ButIthinkyou’vefiguredthatoutalready.”
“Thendon’t,”shewhispers.What?“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.”“Enlightenme,then.”Herwordstravelstraighttomycock.
Fuck.“You’renotcelibate?”sheasks.“No,Anastasia,I’mnotcelibate.”Andifyou’dletmetieyouupI’dproveittoyourightnow.Hereyeswidenandhercheekspink.Oh,Ana.Ihavetoshowher.It’stheonlywayI’llknow.“Whatareyourplansforthenextfewdays?”Iask.“I’mworkingtoday,frommidday.Whattimeisit?”sheexclaimsinpanic.“It’sjustafterten;you’veplentyoftime.Whatabouttomorrow?”“KateandIaregoingtostartpacking.We’removingtoSeattlenextweekend,andI’mworkingat
Clayton’sallthisweek.”“YouhaveaplaceinSeattlealready?”“Yes.”“Where?”“Ican’tremembertheaddress.It’sinthePikeMarketDistrict.”“Notfarfromme.”Good!“SowhatareyougoingtodoforworkinSeattle?”“I’veappliedforsomeinternships.I’mwaitingtohear.”“Haveyouappliedtomycompany,asIsuggested?”“Um…no.”“Andwhat’swrongwithmycompany?”“Yourcompanyoryourcompany?”Shearchesaneyebrow.“Areyousmirkingatme,MissSteele?”Ican’thidemyamusement.Oh,she’dbeajoytotrain…challenging,maddeningwoman.Sheexaminesherplate,chewingatherlip.“I’dliketobitethatlip,”Iwhisper,becauseit’strue.Herfacefliestomineandsheshufflesinherseat.Shetiltsherchintowardme,hereyesfullof
confidence.“Whydon’tyou?”shesaysquietly.Oh.Don’ttemptme,baby.Ican’t.Notyet.“BecauseI’mnotgoingtotouchyou,Anastasia—notuntilIhaveyourwrittenconsenttodoso.”“Whatdoesthatmean?”sheasks.“ExactlywhatIsay.Ineedtoshowyou,Anastasia.”Soyouknowwhatyou’regettingyourselfinto.
“Whattimedoyoufinishworkthisevening?”“Abouteight.”“Well, we could go to Seattle this evening or next Saturday for dinner at my place, and I’ll
acquaintyouwiththefactsthen.Thechoiceisyours.”“Whycan’tyoutellmenow?”“Because I’menjoyingmybreakfast and your company.Once you’re enlightened, youprobably
won’twanttoseemeagain.”ShefrownsassheprocesseswhatI’vesaid.“Tonight,”shesays.
Whoa.Thatdidn’ttakelong.“LikeEve,you’resoquicktoeatfromthetreeofknowledge,”Itaunther.“Areyousmirkingatme,Mr.Grey?”sheasks.Ilookatherthroughnarrowedeyes.Okay,baby,youaskedforthis.IpickupmyphoneandpressTayloronspeeddial.Heanswersalmostimmediately.“Mr.Grey.”“Taylor.I’mgoingtoneedCharlieTango.”ShewatchesmecloselyasImakearrangementstobringmyEC135toPortland.I’llshowherwhatIhaveinmind…andtherestwillbeuptoher.Shemaywanttocomehome
oncesheknows.I’llneedStephan,mypilot,tobeonstandbysohecanbringherbacktoPortlandifshedecidestohavenothingmoretodowithme.Ihopethat’snotthecase.
AnditdawnsonmethatI’mthrilledthatIcantakehertoSeattleinCharlieTango.It’llbeafirst.“Standbypilotfrom22:30,”IconfirmwithTaylorandhangup.“Dopeoplealwaysdowhatyoutellthem?”sheasks,andthedisapprovalinhervoiceisobvious.Is
shescoldingmenow?Herchallengeisannoying.“Usually,iftheywanttokeeptheirjobs.”Don’tquestionhowItreatmystaff.“Andiftheydon’tworkforyou?”sheadds.“Oh,Icanbeverypersuasive,Anastasia.Youshouldfinishyourbreakfast.AndthenI’lldropyou
offathome.I’llpickyouupatClayton’sateightwhenyoufinish.We’llflyuptoSeattle.”“Fly?”“Yes.Ihaveahelicopter.”Hermouthdropsopen,formingasmallo.It’sapleasingmoment.“We’llgobyhelicoptertoSeattle?”shewhispers.“Yes.”“Why?”“BecauseIcan.”Igrin.Sometimesit’sjustfuckinggreattobeme.“Finishyourbreakfast.”Sheseemsstunned.“Eat!”Myvoiceismoreforceful.“Anastasia,Ihaveanissuewithwastedfood.Eat.”“Ican’teatallthis.”ShestudiesallthefoodonthetableandIfeelguiltyoncemore.Yes,thereis
toomuchfoodhere.“Eatwhat’sonyourplate.Ifyou’deatenproperlyyesterday,youwouldn’tbehere,andIwouldn’t
bedeclaringmyhandsosoon.”Hell.Thiscouldbeahugemistake.She givesme a sideways look as she chases her food around on the plate with a fork, and her
mouthtwitches.“What’ssofunny?”
Sheshakesherheadandpopsthelastpieceofpancakeintohermouth,andItrynottolaugh.Asever,shesurprisesme.She’sawkward,unexpected,anddisarming.Shereallymakesmewanttolaugh,andwhat’smore,it’satmyself.
“Goodgirl,”Imutter.“I’ll takeyouhomewhenyou’vedriedyourhair. Idon’twantyougettingill.”
You’llneedallyourstrengthfortonight,forwhatIhavetoshowyou.Suddenly, shegetsup fromthe tableandIhave tostopmyself fromtellingher that shedoesn’t
havepermission.She’snotyoursubmissive…yet,Grey.Onthewaybacktothebedroom,shepausesbythesofa.“Wheredidyousleeplastnight?”sheasks.“Inmybed.”Withyou.“Oh.”“Yes,itwasquiteanoveltyforme,too.”“Nothaving…sex.”Shesaidthes-word…andthetelltalepinkcheeksappear.“No.”HowcanItellherthis,withoutitsoundingweird?Justtellher,Grey.“Sleepingwith someone.”Nonchalantly, I turnmy attentionback to the sports section and the
write-uponlastnight’sgame,thenwatchasshedisappearsintothebedroom.No,thatdidn’tsoundweirdatall.Well,IhaveanotherdatewithMissSteele.No,notadate.Sheneedstoknowaboutme.Iletouta
longbreathanddrinkwhat’sleftofmyorangejuice.Thisisshapinguptobeaveryinterestingday.I’mpleasedwhenIhearthebuzzofthehairdryerandsurprisedthatshe’sdoingwhatshe’sbeentold.
While I’mwaiting forher, Iphone thevalet tobringmycarup from thegarageandcheckheraddressoncemoreonGoogleMaps.Next,ItextAndreatosendmeanNDAviae-mail;ifAnawantsenlightenment,she’llneedtokeephermouthshut.Myphonebuzzes.It’sRos.
AsI’monthephone,Anaemergesfromthebedroomandpicksupherpurse.RosistalkingaboutDarfur,butmyattentionisonMissSteele.Sherummagesaroundinherpurseandshe’spleasedwhenshefindsahairtie.
Herhairisbeautiful.Lush.Long.Thick.Idly,Iwonderwhatitwouldbeliketobraid.Shetiesitbackandputsonherjacket,thensitsdownonthesofa,waitingformetofinishmycall.
“Okay,let’sdoit.Keepmeabreastofprogress.”IconcludemyconversationwithRos.She’sbeenworkingmiraclesanditlookslikeourfoodshipmenttoDarfurishappening.
“Readytogo?”IaskAna.Shenods.Igrabmyjacketandcarkeysandfollowheroutthedoor.Shepeeksatmethroughlonglashesaswewalktowardtheelevator,andherlipscurlintoashysmile.Mylipstwitchinresponse.
Whatthehellisshedoingtome?
Theelevator arrives, and I allowher to step in first. I press the first-floor button and thedoorsclose. In the confines of the elevator, I’m completely aware of her. A trace of her sweet fragranceinvadesmysenses…Herbreathingalters,hitchingalittle,andshepeeksupatmewithabrightcome-hitherlook.
Shit.Shebitesherlip.She’sdoingthisonpurpose.AndforasplitsecondI’mlostinhersensual,mesmerizingstare.She
doesn’tbackdown.I’mhard.Instantly.Iwanther.Here.Now.Intheelevator.“Oh,fuckthepaperwork.”ThewordscomefromnowhereandoninstinctIgrabherandpushher
againstthewall.Claspingbothherhands,Ipinthemaboveherheadsoshecan’ttouchme,andonceshe’ssecure,Itwistmyotherhandinherhairwhilemylipsseekandfindhers.
Shemoansintomymouth,thecallofasiren,andfinallyIcansampleher:mintandteaandanorchardofmellowfruitfulness.Shetasteseverybitasgoodasshelooks.Remindingmeofatimeofplenty. Good Lord. I’m yearning for her. I grasp her chin, deepening the kiss, and her tonguetentativelytouchesmine…exploring.Considering.Feeling.Kissingmeback.
Oh,Godinheaven.“You.Are.So.Sweet,” Imurmuragainsther lips,completely intoxicated,punch-drunkwithher
scentandtaste.Theelevatorstopsandthedoorsbegintoopen.Getafuckinggrip,Grey.Ipushmyselfoffherandstandbeyondherreach.She’sbreathinghard.AsamI.WhenwasthelasttimeIlostcontrol?Threemeninbusinesssuitsgiveusknowinglooksastheyjoinus.AndIstareattheposterthat’sabovethebuttonsintheelevatoradvertisingasensualweekendat
TheHeathman.IglanceatAnaandexhale.Shegrins.Andmylipstwitchoncemore.Whatthefuckhasshedonetome?Theelevatorstopsatthesecondfloorandtheguysgetout,leavingmealonewithMissSteele.“You’vebrushedyourteeth,”Iobservewithwryamusement.“Iusedyourtoothbrush,”shesays,eyesshining.
Ofcourseshehas…andforsomereason,Ifindthispleasing,toopleasing.Istiflemysmile.“Oh,AnastasiaSteele,whatamIgoingtodowithyou?”Itakeherhandastheelevatordoorsopenontheground floor, and Imutterundermybreath, “What is it aboutelevators?”Shegivesmeaknowinglookaswestrollacrossthepolishedmarbleofthelobby.
Thecariswaitinginoneofthebaysinfrontofthehotel;thevaletispacingimpatiently.IgivehimanobscenetipandopenthepassengerdoorforAna,whoisquietandintrospective.
Butshehasn’trun.EventhoughIjumpedherintheelevator.Ishouldsaysomethingaboutwhathappenedinthere—butwhat?Sorry?Howwasthatforyou?Whatthehellareyoudoingtome?I start thecaranddecide that the less said, thebetter.The soothing soundofDelibes’s “Flower
Duet”fillsthecarandIbegintorelax.“Whatarewelisteningto?”Anainquires,asIturnontoSouthwestJeffersonStreet.Itellherand
askherifshelikesit.“Christian,it’swonderful.”Tohearmynameonherlipsisastrangedelight.She’ssaiditabouthalfadozentimesnow,and
eachtimeit’sdifferent.Today,it’swithwonder—atthemusic.It’sgreatthatshelikesthispiece:it’soneofmyfavorites.Ifindmyselfbeaming;she’sobviouslyexcusedmefortheelevatoroutburst.
“CanIhearthatagain?”“Ofcourse.”Itapthetouchscreentoreplaythemusic.“You like classicalmusic?” she asks, as we cross the Fremont Bridge, andwe fall into an easy
conversationaboutmytasteinmusic.Whilewe’retalkingIgetacallonthehands-free.“Grey,”Ianswer.“Mr. Grey, it’s Welch here. I have the information you require.” Oh yes, details about the
photographer.“Good.E-mailittome.Anythingtoadd?”“No,sir.”Ipressthebuttonandthemusicisback.Webothlisten,nowlostintherawsoundoftheKingsof
Leon.Butitdoesn’tlastlong—ourlisteningpleasureisdisturbedoncemorebythehands-free.Whatthehell?“Grey,”Isnap.“TheNDAhasbeene-mailedtoyou,Mr.Grey.”“Good.That’sall,Andrea.”“Goodday,sir.”IsneakalookatAna,toseeifshe’spickeduponthatconversation,butshe’sstudyingthePortland
scenery.Isuspectshe’sbeingpolite.It’sdifficulttokeepmyeyesontheroad.Iwanttostareather.Forallhermaladroitness,shehasabeautifulneckline,onethatI’dliketokissfromthebottomofher
earrightdowntohershoulder.Hell.Ishuffleinmyseat.IhopesheagreestosigntheNDAandtotakewhatIhavetooffer.WhenwejoinI-5Igetanothercall.It’sElliot.“Hi,Christian,d’yougetlaid?”Oh…smooth,dude,smooth.“Hello,Elliot—I’monspeakerphone,andI’mnotaloneinthecar.”“Who’swithyou?”“AnastasiaSteele.”“Hi,Ana!”“Hello,Elliot,”shesays,animated.“Heardalotaboutyou,”Elliotsays.Shit.Whathasheheard?“Don’tbelieveawordKatesays,”sherespondsgood-naturedly.Elliotlaughs.“I’mdroppingAnastasiaoffnow.ShallIpickyouup?”Iinterject.There’snodoubtElliotwillwanttomakeaquickgetaway.“Sure.”“Seeyoushortly.”Ihangup.“WhydoyouinsistoncallingmeAnastasia?”sheasks.“Becauseit’syourname.”“IpreferAna.”“Doyou,now?”“Ana”istooeverydayandordinaryforher.Andtoofamiliar.Thosethreelettershavethepowerto
wound…AndinthatmomentIknowthatherrejection,whenitcomes,willbehardtotake.It’shappened
before,butI’veneverfeltthis…invested.Idon’tevenknowthisgirl,butIwanttoknowher,allofher.Maybeit’sbecauseI’veneverchasedawoman.
Grey,getcontrolofyourselfandfollowtherules,otherwisethiswillallgotoshit.“Anastasia,” I say, ignoring her disapproving look. “What happened in the elevator—it won’t
happenagain—well,notunlessit’spremeditated.”ThatkeepsherquietasIparkoutsideherapartment.BeforeshecananswermeIclimboutofthe
car,walkaroundandopenherdoor.As she steps onto the sidewalk, she gives me a fleeting glance. “I liked what happened in the
elevator,”shesays.Youdid?Herconfessionhaltsmeinmytracks.I’mpleasantlysurprisedagainbylittleMissSteele.
Asshewalksupthestepstothefrontdoor,Ihavetoscrambletokeepupwithher.Elliot andKate lookupwhenweenter.They’re sittingat adining table ina sparsely furnished
room,befittingacoupleof students.Therearea fewpackingboxesbesideabookshelf.Elliot looksrelaxedandnotinahurrytoleave,whichsurprisesme.
Kavanaghjumpsupandgivesmeacriticalonce-overasshehugsAna.WhatdidshethinkIwasgoingtodotothegirl?IknowwhatI’dliketodotoher…AsKavanaghholdsheratarm’slengthI’mreassured;maybeshedoescareforAna,too.“Goodmorning,Christian,”shesays,hertonecoolandcondescending.“MissKavanagh.”AndwhatIwanttosayissomethingsarcasticabouthowshe’s finallyshowing
someinterestinherfriend,butIholdmytongue.“Christian,hernameisKate,”Elliotsayswithmildirritation.“Kate,”Imutter,tobepolite.ElliothugsAna,holdingherforamomenttoolong.“Hi,Ana,”hesays,allfuckingsmiles.“Hi,Elliot.”Shebeams.Okay,thisisbecomingunbearable.“Elliot,we’dbettergo.”Andtakeyourhandsoffher.“Sure,”he says, releasingAna,butgrabbingKavanaghandmakinganunseemly showofkissing
her.Oh,forfuck’ssake.Ana’s uncomfortable watching them. I don’t blame her. But when she turns to me it’s with a
speculativelookthroughnarrowedeyes.Whatisshethinking?“Laters,baby,”Elliotmutters,slobberingoverKavanagh.Dude,showsomedignity,forheaven’ssake.Ana’s reproachful eyes are onme, and for amoment I don’t know if it’s because ofElliot and
Kate’slasciviousdisplayor—Hell!Thisiswhatshewants.Tobecourtedandwooed.Idon’tdoromance,sweetheart.Alockofherhairhasbrokenfree,andwithout thinking,I tuckitbehindherear.Sheleansher
faceintomyfingers,thetendergesturesurprisingme.Mythumbstraystohersoftbottomlip,whichI’dliketokissagain.ButIcan’t.NotuntilIhaveherconsent.
“Laters,baby,”Iwhisper,andherfacesoftenswithasmile.“I’llpickyouupateight.”Reluctantly,Iturnawayandopenthefrontdoor,Elliotbehindme.
“Man,Ineedsomesleep,”Elliotsays,assoonaswe’reinthecar.“Thatwomanisvoracious.”“Really…”Myvoicedripswith sarcasm.The last thing Iwant is ablow-by-blowaccountofhis
assignation.“Howaboutyou,hotshot?Didshepopyourcherry?”Igivehimasideways“fuckoff”glare.Elliotlaughs.“Man,youareoneuptightsonofabitch.”HepullshisSounderscapoverhisface
andnestlesdowninhisseatforanap.Iturnupthevolumeofthemusic.
Sleepthroughthat,Lelliot!Yeah.Ienvymybrother:hiseasewithwomen,hisabilitytosleep…andthefactthathe’snotthe
sonofabitch.
JOSÉ LUIS RODRIGUEZ’S BACKGROUND check reveals a ticket for possession of marijuana. There isnothing in his police records for sexual harassment.Maybe last night would have been a first if Ihadn’tintervened.Andthelittlepricksmokesweed?Ihopehedoesn’tsmokearoundAna—andIhopeshedoesn’tsmoke,period.
OpeningAndrea’se-mail,IsendtheNDAtotheprinterinmystudyathomeinEscala.AnawillneedtosignitbeforeIshowhermyplayroom.Andinamomentofweakness,orhubris,orperhapsunprecedented optimism—I don’t know which—I fill in her name and address on my standardDom/subcontractandsendthattoprint,too.
There’saknockatthedoor.“Hey,hotshot.Let’sgohiking,”Elliotsaysthroughthedoor.Ah…thechildhaswokenfromhisnap.
THESCENTOFPINE,freshdampearth,andlatespringisabalmtomysenses.Thesmellremindsmeofthoseheadydaysofmychildhood,runningthroughaforestwithElliotandmysisterMiaunderthewatchful eyes of our adoptive parents.The quiet, the space, the freedom…the scrunch of dry pineneedlesunderfoot.
HereinthegreatoutdoorsIcouldforget.Herewasarefugefrommynightmares.Elliotchattersaway,needingonlytheoccasionalgruntfrommetokeeptalking.Aswemakeour
wayalong thepebbled shoreof theWillamettemymindstrays toAnastasia.For the first time inalongtime,Ihaveasweetsenseofanticipation.I’mexcited.
Willshesayyestomyproposal?Ipicturehersleepingbesideme,softandsmall…andmycocktwitcheswithexpectation.Icould
havewokenherandfuckedherthen—whatanoveltythatwouldhavebeen.I’llfuckherintime.I’llfuckherboundandwithhersmartmouthgagged.
CLAYTON’SISQUIET.Thelastcustomerleftfiveminutesago.AndI’mwaiting—again—drummingmyfingersonmythighs.Patienceisnotmyforte.EventhelonghikewithElliottodayhasnotdampenedmy restlessness. He’s having dinner with Kate this evening at The Heathman. Two dates onconsecutivenightsisnothisusualstyle.
Suddenlythefluorescentlightsinsidethestoreflickeroff,thefrontdooropens,andAnastepsoutintoamildPortlandevening.Myheartbeginstohammer.This is it:eitherthebeginningofanewrelationshiporthebeginningoftheend.Shewavesgood-byetoayoungmanwho’sfollowedherout.It’snotthesamemanImetthelasttimeIwashere—it’ssomeonenew.Hewatchesherwalktowardthecar,hiseyesonherass.Taylordistractsmebymakingamovetoclimboutofthecar,butIstop
him.Thisismycall.WhenI’moutofthecarholdingthedooropenforher,thenewguyislockingupthestoreandnolongeroglingMissSteele.
Her lipscurve intoa shy smileas sheapproaches,herhair ina jauntyponytail swinging in theeveningbreeze.
“Goodevening,MissSteele.”“Mr.Grey,”shesays.She’sdressedinblackjeans…Jeansagain.ShegreetsTayloras sheclimbs
intothebackseatofthecar.OnceI’mbesideherIclaspherhand,whileTaylorpullsoutontotheemptyroadandheadstothe
Portlandhelipad.“Howwaswork?”Iask,enjoyingthefeelofherhandinmine.“Verylong,”shesays,hervoicehusky.“Yes,it’sbeenalongdayforme,too.”It’sbeenhellwaitingforthelastcoupleofhours!“Whatdidyoudo?”sheasks.“IwenthikingwithElliot.”Herhandiswarmandsoft.Sheglancesdownatourjoinedfingersand
Ibrushherknuckleswithmythumboverandover.Herbreathcatchesandhereyesmeetmine.Inthem I see her longing and desire…and her sense of anticipation. I just hope she accepts myproposition.
Mercifully,thedrivetothehelipadisshort.Whenwe’reoutofthecarItakeherhandagain.Shelooksalittleperplexed.
Ah.She’swonderingwherethehelicoptermightbe.“Ready?” I ask. Shenods, and I leadher into the building toward the elevator. She givesme a
quickknowinglook.She’srememberingthekissfromthismorning,butthen…soamI.“It’sonlythreefloors,”Imutter.AswestandinsideImakeamentalnotetofuckherinanelevatoroneday.That’sifsheagreesto
mydeal.OntheroofCharlieTango,newlyarrivedfromBoeingField,ispreppedandreadytofly,though
there’snosignofStephan,who’sbroughtherdownhere.ButJoe,whorunsthehelipadinPortland,isinthesmalloffice.HesaluteswhenIseehim.He’solderthanmygrandpa,andwhathedoesn’tknowaboutflyingisnotworthknowing;heflewSikorskysinKoreaforcasualtyevacuation,andboy,doeshehavesomehair-raisingstories.
“Here’s your flight plan,Mr.Grey,” Joe says, his gravelly voice betrayinghis age. “All externalchecksaredone.She’sreadyandwaiting,sir.You’regoodtogo.”
“Thankyou,Joe.”AquickglanceatAnatellsmethatshe’sexcited…andsoamI.Thisisafirst.“Let’sgo.”Withherhandinmineoncemore,IleadAnaoverthehelipadtoCharlieTango.The
safestEurocopter inherclassandadelight to fly.She’smyprideand joy. Ihold thedooropen forAna;shescramblesinsideandIclimbinbehindher.
“Overthere,”Iorder,pointingtothefrontpassengerseat.“Sit.Don’ttouchanything.”I’mamazedwhenshedoesasshe’stold.
Onceinherseat, sheexamines thearrayof instrumentswithamixtureofaweandenthusiasm.Crouchingdownbesideher,Istrapherintotheseatharness,tryingnottoimaginehernakedasIdoit.Itakealittlelongerthanisnecessarybecausethismightbemylastchancetobethisclosetoher,mylastchancetoinhalehersweet,evocativescent.Oncesheknowsaboutmypredilectionsshemayflee…ontheotherhand,shemayembracethelifestyle.Thepossibilitiesthisconjuresinmymindarealmostoverwhelming.She’swatchingmeintently, she’s soclose…so lovely. I tighten the last strap.She’snotgoinganywhere.Notforanhouratleast.
Suppressing my excitement, I whisper, “You’re secure. No escaping.” She inhales sharply.“Breathe,Anastasia,”Iadd,andcaresshercheek.Holdingherchin,Ileandownandkissherquickly.“Ilikethisharness,”Imutter.IwanttotellherIhaveothers,inleather,inwhichI’dliketoseehertrussedandsuspendedfromtheceiling.ButIbehave,sitdown,andbuckleup.
“Putyourcanson.”IpointtotheheadsetinfrontofAna.“I’mjustgoingthroughallthepreflightchecks.” All instruments look good. I press the throttle to 1500 rpm, transponder to stand-by, andpositionbeaconon.Everythingissetandreadytogo.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asks with wonder. I inform her that I’ve been a fullyqualifiedpilotforfouryears.Hersmileisinfectious.
“You’resafewithme,”I reassureher,andadd,“Well,whilewe’re flying.”Igiveherawink,shebeams,andI’mdazzled.
“Areyouready?”Iask—andIcan’tquitebelievehowexcitedIamtohaveherherebesideme.Shenods.Italktothetower—they’reawake—andincreasethethrottleto2000rpm.Oncethey’vegivenus
clearanceIdomyfinalchecks.Oiltemperatureisat104.Good.Iincreasethemanifoldpressureto14,theengineto2500rpm,andpullbackonthethrottle.Andliketheelegantbirdsheis…CharlieTangorisesintotheair.
Anastasia gasps as the ground disappears below us, but she holds her tongue, entranced by thewaning lights of Portland. Soon we are shrouded in darkness; the only light emanates from theinstrumentsbeforeus.Ana’sfaceisilluminatedbytheredandgreenglowasshestaresintothenight.
“Eerie,isn’tit?”ThoughIdon’tfinditso.Tomethisisacomfort.Nothingcanharmmehere.I’msafeandhiddeninthedark.“Howdoyouknowyou’regoingtherightway?”Anaasks.“Here.”Ipointtothepanel.Idon’twanttoborehertalkingaboutinstrumentflightrules,butthe
factisit’salltheequipmentinfrontofmethatguidesustoourdestination:theattitudeindicator,thealtimeter,theVSI,andofcoursetheGPS.ItellheraboutCharlieTango,andhowshe’sequippedfornightflight.
Analooksatme,amazed.“There’sahelipadontopofthebuildingIlivein.That’swherewe’reheading.”Ilookbackatthepanel,checkingallthedata.ThisiswhatIlove:thecontrol,mysafetyandwell-
beingreliantonmymasteryofthetechnologyinfrontofme.“Whenyouflyatnight,youflyblind.Youhavetotrusttheinstrumentation,”Itellher.
“Howlongwilltheflightbe?”sheasks,alittlebreathless.“Lessthananhour—thewindisinourfavor.”Iglanceatheragain.“Youokay,Anastasia?”“Yes,”shesays,hervoiceoddlyabrupt.Is she nervous? Or maybe she’s regretting her decision to be here with me. The thought is
unsettling.Shehasn’tgivenmeachance.I’mdistractedbyair-trafficcontrolforamoment.Then,asweclearcloudcover,IseeSeattleinthedistance,abeaconblazinginthedark.
“Look,overthere.”IdirectAna’sattentiontothebrightlights.“Doyoualwaysimpresswomenthisway?‘Comeandflyinmyhelicopter’?”“I’veneverbroughtagirluphere,Anastasia.It’sanotherfirstforme.Areyouimpressed?”“I’mawed,Christian,”shewhispers.“Awed?”Mysmileisspontaneous.AndIrememberGrace,mymother,strokingmyhairasIread
outloudfromTheOnceandFutureKing.“Christian,thatwaswonderful.I’mawed,darlingboy.”Iwassevenandhadonlyrecentlystartedspeaking.“You’rejustso…competent,”Anacontinues.“Why,thankyou,MissSteele.”Myfacewarmswithpleasureatherunexpectedpraise.Ihopeshe
doesn’tnotice.“Youobviouslyenjoythis,”shesaysalittlelater.“What?”“Flying.”“It requires control and concentration.”Two qualities Imost enjoy. “How could I not love it?
Thoughmyfavoriteissoaring.”“Soaring?”“Yes.Gliding,tothelayperson.Glidersandhelicopters—Iflythemboth.”PerhapsIshouldtakehersoaring?Gettingaheadofyourself,Grey.Andsincewhendoyoutakeanyonesoaring?SincewhendoIbringanyoneinCharlieTango?ATCrefocusesmeontheflightpath,haltingmyroguethoughtsasweapproachtheoutskirtsof
Seattle.We’reclose.AndI’mclosertoknowingwhetherthisisapipedreamornot.Anaisstaringoutthewindow,entranced.
Ican’tkeepmyeyesoffher.Pleasesayyes.“Looksgood,doesn’t it?” Iask, so that she’ll turnand Ican seeher face.Shedoes,withahuge
cock-tighteninggrin.“We’llbethereinafewminutes,”Iadd.Suddenly the atmosphere in the cabin shifts and I have a more heightened awareness of her.
Breathingdeeply,Iinhaleherscentandsensetheanticipation.Ana’s.Mine.AswedescendItakeCharlieTangothroughthedowntownareatowardEscala,myhome,andmy
heartrateincreases.Anastartsfidgeting.She’snervous,too.Ihopeshedoesn’tflee.
Asthehelipadcomesintoview,Itakeanotherdeepbreath.Thisisit.WelandsmoothlyandIpowerdown,watchingtherotorbladesslowandcometoastop.AllIcan
hear is the hiss of white noise over our headphones as we sit in silence. I removemy cans, thenremoveAna’s,too.“We’rehere,”Isayquietly.Herfaceispaleintheglowofthelandinglights,hereyesluminous.
SweetLord,she’sbeautiful.Iunbucklemyharnessandreachovertoundohers.Shepeersupatme.Trusting.Young.Sweet.Herdeliciousscentisalmostmyundoing.CanIdothiswithher?She’sanadult.Shecanmakeherowndecisions.AndIwanthertolookatmethiswayoncesheknowsme…knowswhatI’mcapableof.“Youdon’t
havetodoanythingyoudon’twanttodo.Youknowthat,don’tyou?”Sheneedstounderstandthis.Iwanthersubmission,butmorethanthatIwantherconsent.
“I’dneverdoanythingIdidn’twant todo,Christian.”Shesounds sincereandIwant tobelieveher.Withthosepacifyingwordsringinginmyhead,Iclimboutofmyseatandopenthedoor,thenjumpdownontothehelipad.Itakeherhandassheexitstheaircraft.Thewindwhipsherhairaroundherface,andshelooksanxious.Idon’tknowifit’sbecauseshe’sherewithme,alone,orifit’sbecausewe’rethirtystorieshigh.Iknowit’sagiddyfeelingbeinguphere.
“Come.”Wrappingmyarmaroundhertoshieldherfromthewind,Iguidehertotheelevator.Wearebothquietaswemaketheshortjourneytothepenthouse.She’swearingapalegreenshirt
beneathherblackjacket.Itsuitsher.ImakeamentalnotetoincludebluesandgreensintheclothesI’ll provide if she agrees to my terms. She should be better dressed. Her eyes meet mine in theelevator’smirrorsasthedoorsopentomyapartment.
Shefollowsmethroughthefoyer,acrossthecorridor,andintothelivingroom.“CanItakeyourjacket?” Iask.Anashakesherheadandclutches the lapels toemphasize that shewants tokeepherjacketon.
Okay.“Wouldyoulikeadrink?”ItryadifferentapproachanddecidethatIneedadrinktosteadymy
nerves.WhyamIsonervous?BecauseIwanther…“I’mgoingtohaveaglassofwhitewine.Wouldyouliketojoinme?”“Yes,please,”shesays.InthekitchenIslipoffmyjacketandopenthewinefridge.Asauvignonblancwouldbeagood
icebreaker.PullingoutaserviceablePouilly-Fumé,IwatchAnapeerthroughthebalconydoorsattheview.When she turns andwalksback toward thekitchen I ask if she’dbehappywith thewine I’veselected.
“Iknownothingaboutwine,Christian.I’msureitwillbefine.”Shesoundssubdued.
Shit.Thisisn’tgoingwell.Issheoverwhelmed?Isthatit?Ipourtwoglassesandwalktowhereshestandsinthemiddleofmylivingroom,lookingeverybit
thesacrificiallamb.Goneisthedisarmingwoman.Shelookslost.Likeme…“Here.” I hand her the glass, and she immediately takes a sip, closing her eyes in obvious
appreciationofthewine.Whenshelowerstheglassherlipsaremoist.Goodchoice,Grey.“You’reveryquiet,andyou’renotevenblushing. In fact, I think this is thepalest I’veever seen
you,Anastasia.Areyouhungry?”Sheshakesherheadandtakesanothersip.Maybeshe’sinneedofsomeliquidcourage,too.“It’sa
verybigplaceyouhavehere,”shesays,hervoicetimid.“Big?”“Big.”“It’sbig.”There’snoarguingwiththat;itismorethantenthousandsquarefeet.“Doyouplay?”Shelooksatthepiano.“Yes.”“Well?”“Yes.”“Ofcourseyoudo.Isthereanythingyoucan’tdowell?”“Yes…afewthings.”Cook.Telljokes.MakefreeandeasyconversationwithawomanI’mattractedto.Betouched…“Do youwant to sit?” I gesture toward the sofa.Abrisknod tellsme that shedoes.Takingher
hand,Ileadherthere,andshesitsdown,givingmeanimpishlook.“What’ssoamusing?”Iask,asItakeaseatbesideher.“WhydidyougivemeTessofthed’Urbervilles,specifically?”Oh.Whereisthisgoing?“Well,yousaidyoulikedThomasHardy.”“Isthattheonlyreason?”Idon’twanttotellherthatshehasmyfirstedition,andthatitwasabetterchoicethanJude the
Obscure.“Itseemedappropriate.IcouldholdyoutosomeimpossiblyhighideallikeAngelClareordebaseyoucompletelylikeAlecd’Urberville.”Myansweristruthfulenoughandhasacertainironytoit.WhatI’mabouttoproposeIsuspectwillbeveryfarfromherexpectations.
“Ifthereareonlytwochoices,I’lltakethedebasement,”shewhispers.Damn.Isn’tthatwhatyouwant,Grey?“Anastasia,stopbitingyourlip,please.It’sverydistracting.Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.”“That’swhyI’mhere,” she says,her teeth leaving little indentationsonabottomlipmoistwith
wine.Andtheresheis:disarmingoncemore,surprisingmeateveryturn.Mycockconcurs.Wearecuttingtothechaseonthisdeal,butbeforeweexplorethedetails,Ineedhertosignthe
NDA. I excusemyself and head into my study. The contract and NDA are ready on the printer.Leavingthecontractonmydesk—Idon’tknowifwe’llevergettoit—IstapletheNDAtogetherandtakeitbacktoAna.
“This is a nondisclosure agreement.” I place it on the coffee table in front of her. She looksconfusedandsurprised.“Mylawyerinsistsonit,”Iadd.“Ifyou’regoingforoptiontwo,debasement,you’llneedtosignthis.”
“AndifIdon’twanttosignanything?”“Then it’s AngelClare high ideals,well, formost of the book anyway.” And Iwon’t be able to
touch you. I’ll send youhomewithStephan, and Iwill trymy verybest to forget you.Myanxietymushrooms;thisdealcouldallgotoshit.
“Whatdoesthisagreementmean?”“Itmeansyoucannotdiscloseanythingaboutus.Anything,toanyone.”ShesearchesmyfaceandIdon’tknowifshe’sconfusedordispleased.Thiscouldgoeitherway.“Okay.I’llsign,”shesays.Well,thatwaseasy.IhandhermyMontBlancandsheplacesthepenatthesignatureline.“Aren’tyouevengoingtoreadit?”Iask,suddenlyannoyed.“No.”“Anastasia, you should always read anything you sign.”How could she be so foolish? Have her
parentstaughthernothing?“Christian,whatyou fail tounderstand is that Iwouldn’t talkaboutus toanyoneanyway.Even
Kate. So it’s immaterialwhether I sign an agreement or not. If itmeans somuch to you, or yourlawyer,whomyouobviouslytalkto,thenfine.I’llsign.”
Shehasananswerforeverything.It’srefreshing.“Fairpointwellmade,MissSteele,”Inotedryly.Withaquick,disapprovingglance,shesigns.And before I can beginmy pitch, she asks, “Does thismean you’re going tomake love tome
tonight,Christian?”What?Me?Makelove?Oh,Grey,let’sdisabuseherofthisstraightaway.“No,Anastasia,itdoesn’t.First,Idon’tmakelove.
Ifuck,hard.”Shegasps.That’smadeherthink.“Second,there’salotmorepaperworktodo.Andthird,youdon’tyetknowwhatyou’reinfor.You
couldstillrunfromherescreaming!Come,Iwanttoshowyoumyplayroom.”She’snonplussed,thelittlevformingbetweenherbrows.“YouwanttoplayonyourXbox?”
Ilaughoutloud.Oh,baby.“No,Anastasia,noXbox,noPlayStation.Come.”Standing,Iofferhermyhand,whichshetakes
willingly. I leadher to thehallwayandupstairs,whereI stopoutside thedoor tomyplayroom,myhearthammeringinmychest.
Thisisit.Payorplay.HaveIeverbeenthisnervous?Realizingmydesiresdependontheturnofthiskey,Iunlockthedoor,andinthatmomentIneedtoreassureher.“Youcanleaveanytime.Thehelicopterisonstandbytotakeyouwheneveryouwanttogo;youcanstaythenightandgohomeinthemorning.It’sfine,whateveryoudecide.”
“Justopenthedamndoor,Christian,”shesayswithamulishexpressionandherarmscrossed.This is thecrossroads. Idon’twanther to run.But I’venever felt thisexposed.Even inElena’s
hands…andIknowit’sbecausesheknowsnothingaboutthelifestyle.Iopenthedoorandfollowherintomyplayroom.Mysafeplace.TheonlyplacewhereI’mtrulymyself.Anastandsinthemiddleoftheroom,studyingalltheparaphernaliathatissomuchapartofmy
life: the floggers, the canes, the bed, the bench…She’s silent, drinking it in, and all I hear is thedeafeningpoundingofmyheartasthebloodrushespastmyeardrums.
Nowyouknow.Thisisme.She turnsandgivesmeapiercingstareas Iwait forher to say something,but sheprolongsmy
agonyandwalksfartherintotheroom,forcingmetofollowher.Herfingerstrailoverasuedeflogger,oneofmyfavorites.Itellherwhatit’scalled,butshedoesn’t
respond.Shewalksover to thebed,herhandsexploring,her fingersrunningoveroneof thecarvedpillars.
“Saysomething,”Iask.Hersilenceisunbearable.Ineedtoknowifshe’sgoingtorun.“Doyoudothistopeopleordotheydoittoyou?”Finally!“People?”Iwanttosnort.“Idothistowomenwhowantmeto.”She’swillingtohaveadialogue.There’shope.Shefrowns.“Ifyouhavewillingvolunteers,whyamIhere?”“BecauseIwanttodothiswithyou,verymuch.”Visionsofhertiedupinvariouspositionsaround
theroomoverwhelmmyimagination;onthecross,onthebed,overthebench…“Oh,”shesays,andwanderstothebench.Myeyesaredrawntoherinquisitivefingersstrokingthe
leather.Hertouchiscurious,slow,andsensual—issheevenaware?“You’reasadist?”shesays,startlingme.Fuck.Sheseesme.“I’maDominant,”Isayquickly,hopingtomovetheconversationon.“Whatdoesthatmean?”sheinquires,shocked,Ithink.
“ItmeansIwantyoutowillinglysurrenderyourselftome,inallthings.”“WhywouldIdothat?”“Topleaseme,”Iwhisper.ThisiswhatIneedfromyou.“Inverysimpleterms,Iwantyoutowant
topleaseme.”“HowdoIdothat?”shebreathes.“Ihaverules,andIwantyoutocomplywiththem.Theyareforyourbenefitandformypleasure.
Ifyoufollowtheserules tomysatisfaction,Ishallrewardyou.Ifyoudon’t,Ishallpunishyou,andyouwilllearn.”
AndIcan’twaittotrainyou.Ineveryway.She stares at the canes behind the bench. “And where does all this fit in?” She waves at her
surroundings.“It’sallpartoftheincentivepackage.Bothrewardandpunishment.”“Soyou’llgetyourkicksbyexertingyourwilloverme.”Spoton,MissSteele.“It’saboutgainingyourtrustandyourrespect,soyou’llletmeexertmywilloveryou.”Ineedyour
permission,baby. “Iwill gainagreatdealofpleasure, joyeven, in your submission.Themoreyousubmit,thegreatermyjoy—it’saverysimpleequation.”
“Okay,andwhatdoIgetoutofthis?”“Me.”Ishrug.That’sit,baby.Justme.Allofme.Andyou’llfindpleasure,too…Hereyeswidenfractionallyasshestaresatme,sayingnothing.It’sexasperating.“You’renotgiving
anythingaway,Anastasia.Let’sgobackdownstairswhereIcanconcentratebetter.It’sverydistractinghavingyouinhere.”
Iholdoutmyhandtoherandforthefirsttimeshelooksfrommyhandtomyface,undecided.Shit.I’vefrightenedher.“I’mnotgoingtohurtyou,Anastasia.”Tentativelysheputsherhandinmine.I’melated.Shehasn’trun.Relieved,Idecidetoshowherthesubmissive’sbedroom.“Ifyoudothis,letmeshowyou.”Ileadherdownthecorridor.“Thiswillbeyourroom.Youcan
decorateithowyoulike,havewhateveryoulikeinhere.”“Myroom?You’reexpectingmetomovein?”shesqueaksindisbelief.Okay.MaybeIshouldhaveleftthisuntillater.“Notfull-time,”Ireassureher.“Just,say,FridayeveningthroughSunday.Wehavetotalkabout
allthat.Negotiate.Ifyouwanttodothis.”“I’llsleephere?”“Yes.”“Notwithyou.”“No.Itoldyou,Idon’tsleepwithanyone,exceptyouwhenyou’restupefiedwithdrink.”“Wheredoyousleep?”“Myroomisdownstairs.Come,youmustbehungry.”
“Weirdly,Iseemtohavelostmyappetite,”shedeclares,withherfamiliarstubbornexpression.“Youmusteat,Anastasia.”HereatinghabitswillbeoneofthefirstissuesI’llworkonifsheagreestobemine…that,andher
fidgeting.Stopgettingaheadofyourself,Grey!“I’m fully aware that this is adarkpath I’m leading youdown,Anastasia,which iswhy I really
wantyoutothinkaboutthis.”She follows me downstairs into the living room once more. “You must have some questions.
You’vesignedyourNDA;youcanaskmeanythingyouwantandI’llanswer.”Ifthisisgoingtowork,she’sgoingtohavetocommunicate.InthekitchenIopenthefridgeand
findalargeplateofcheeseandsomegrapes.Gailwasn’texpectingmetohavecompany,andthisisnotenough…IwonderifIshouldordersometakeout.Orperhapstakeherout?
Likeadate.Anotherdate.Idon’twanttoraiseexpectationslikethat.Idon’tdodates.Onlywithher…Thethoughtisirritating.There’safreshbaguetteinthebreadbasket.Breadandcheesewillhave
todo.Besides,shesaysshe’snothungry.“Sit.”IpointtooneofthebarstoolsandAnasitsdownandgivesmealevelgaze.“Youmentionedpaperwork,”shesays.“Yes.”“Whatpaperwork?”“Well, apart from theNDA, a contract sayingwhatwewill andwon’t do. I need to know your
limits,andyouneedtoknowmine.Thisisconsensual,Anastasia.”“AndifIdon’twanttodothis?”Shit.“That’sfine,”Ilie.“Butwewon’thaveanysortofrelationship?”“No.”“Why?”“ThisistheonlysortofrelationshipI’minterestedin.”“Why?”“It’sthewayIam.”“Howdidyoubecomethisway?”“Whyisanyonethewaytheyare?That’skindofhardtoanswer.Whydosomepeoplelikecheese
andotherpeoplehate it?Doyoulikecheese?Mrs. Jones—myhousekeeper—has left this fora latesupper.”Iplacetheplateinfrontofher.
“WhatareyourrulesthatIhavetofollow?”“Ihavethemwrittendown.We’llgothroughthemoncewe’veeaten.”“I’mreallynothungry,”shewhispers.“Youwilleat.”Thelookshegivesmeisdefiant.“Wouldyoulikeanotherglassofwine?”Iask,asapeaceoffering.“Yes,please.”Ipourwineintoherglassandsitdownbesideher.“Helpyourselftofood,Anastasia.”Shetakesafewgrapes.That’sit?That’sallyou’reeating?“Haveyoubeenlikethisforawhile?”sheasks.“Yes.”“Isiteasytofindwomenwhowanttodothis?”Oh,ifyouonlyknew.“You’dbeamazed.”Mytoneiswry.“Thenwhyme?Ireallydon’tunderstand.”She’sutterlybemused.Baby,you’rebeautiful.Whywouldn’tIwanttodothiswithyou?“Anastasia,I’vetoldyou.There’ssomethingaboutyou.Ican’tleaveyoualone.I’mlikeamothtoa
flame.Iwantyouverybadly,especiallynow,whenyou’rebitingyourlipagain.”“I think you have that cliché the wrong way around,” she says softly, and it’s a disturbing
confession.“Eat!”Iorder,tochangethesubject.“No.Ihaven’tsignedanythingyet,soIthinkI’llhangontomyfreewillforabitlonger,ifthat’s
okaywithyou.”Oh…hersmartmouth.“Asyouwish,MissSteele.”AndIhidemysmirk.“Howmanywomen?”sheasks,andshepopsagrapeintothatmouth.“Fifteen.”Ihavetolookaway.“Forlongperiodsoftime?”“Someofthem,yes.”“Haveyoueverhurtanyone?”“Yes.”“Badly?”“No.”Dawnwasfine,ifalittleshakenbytheexperience.AndifI’mhonest,sowasI.“Willyouhurtme?”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Physically,willyouhurtme?”Onlywhatyoucantake.“Iwillpunishyouwhenyourequireit,anditwillbepainful.”
Forexample,whenyougetdrunkandputyourselfatrisk.“Haveyoueverbeenbeaten?”sheasks.“Yes.”Many,manytimes.Elenawasdevilishlyhandywithacane.It’stheonlytouchIcouldtolerate.Hereyeswidenandsheputstheuneatengrapesonherplateandtakesanothersipofwine.Her
lackofappetiteisirritatingandisaffectingmine.PerhapsIshouldjustbitethebulletandshowhertherules.
“Let’sdiscussthisinmystudy.Iwanttoshowyousomething.”ShefollowsmeandsitsintheleatherchairinfrontofmydeskasIleanagainstit,armsfolded.This iswhat shewants to know. It’s ablessing that she’s curious—shehasn’t run yet.From the
contractlaidoutonmydeskItakeoneofthepagesandhandittoher.“Thesearetherules.Theymaybesubjecttochange.Theyformpartofthecontract,whichyoucanalsohave.Readtheserulesandlet’sdiscuss.”
Hereyesscanthepage.“Hardlimits?”sheasks.“Yes.Whatyouwon’tdo,whatIwon’tdo,weneedtospecifyinouragreement.”“I’mnotsureaboutacceptingmoneyforclothes.Itfeelswrong.”“Iwanttolavishmoneyonyou.Letmebuyyousomeclothes.Imayneedyoutoaccompanyme
tofunctions.”Grey,what are you saying? This would be a first. “And I want you dressedwell. I’m sure your
salary,whenyoudogetajob,won’tcoverthekindofclothesI’dlikeyoutowear.”“Idon’thavetowearthemwhenI’mnotwithyou?”“No.”“Okay.Idon’twanttoexercisefourtimesaweek.”“Anastasia,Ineedyousupple,strong,andwithstamina.Trustme,youneedtoexercise.”“Butsurelynotfourtimesaweek.Howaboutthree?”“Iwantyoutodofour.”“Ithoughtthiswasanegotiation?”Again,she’sdisarming,callingmeoutonmyshit.“Okay,MissSteele,anotherpointwellmade.
Howaboutanhouronthreedaysandonedayhalfanhour?”“Threedays,threehours.Igettheimpressionyou’regoingtokeepmeexercisedwhenI’mhere.”Oh,Ihopeso.“Yes, I am.Okay,agreed.Areyou sureyoudon’twant to internatmycompany?You’reagood
negotiator.”“No,Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea.”Ofcourseshe’sright.Andit’smynumber-onerule:neverfuckthestaff.“So,limits.Thesearemine.”Ihandherthelist.Thisisit,shit-or-busttime.Iknowmylimitsbyheart,andmentallytickoffthelistasIwatchher
readthrough.Herfacegrowspalerandpalerasshenearstheend.Fuck,Ihopethisisn’tfrighteningheroff.
Iwanther.Iwanthersubmission…badly.Sheswallows,glancingnervouslyupatme.HowcanIpersuadehertogivethisatry?Ishouldreassureher,showherthatI’mcapableofcaring.
“Isthereanythingyou’dliketoadd?”DeepdownIhopeshewon’taddanything.Iwantcarteblanchewithher.Shestaresatme,stillat
alossforwords.It’sirritating.I’mnotusedtowaitingforanswers.“Isthereanythingyouwon’tdo?”Iprompt.
“Idon’tknow.”NottheresponseIwasexpecting.“Whatdoyoumeanyoudon’tknow?”Sheshifts inher seat, lookinguncomfortable,her teeth toyingwithherbottomlip.Again. “I’ve
neverdoneanythinglikethis.”Hell,ofcourseshehasn’t.Patience,Grey. For fuck’s sake. You’ve thrown a great deal of information at her. I continuemy
gentleapproach.It’snovel.“Well,whenyou’vehadsex,wasthereanythingthatyoudidn’tlikedoing?”AndI’mremindedof
thephotographerfumblingalloverheryesterday.Sheflushesandmyinterestispiqued.Whathasshedonethatshedidn’tlike?Issheadventurous
inbed?Sheseemsso—innocent.NormallyIdon’tfindthatattractive.“Youcantellme,Anastasia.Wehavetobehonestwitheachotherorthisisn’tgoingtowork.”I
reallyhavetoencouragehertoloosenup—shewon’teventalkaboutsex.She’ssquirmingagainandstaringatherfingers.
Comeon,Ana.“Tellme,”Iorder.SweetLord,she’sfrustrating.“Well,I’venothadsexbefore,soIdon’tknow,”shewhispers.Theearthstopsspinning.Idon’tfuckingbelieveit.How?Why?Fuck!“Never?”I’mincredulous.Sheshakesherhead,eyeswide.“You’reavirgin?”Idon’tbelieveit.Shenods,embarrassed.Iclosemyeyes.Ican’tlookather.HowthehelldidIgetthissowrong?Angerlancesthroughme.WhatcanIdowithavirgin? Iglareatheras fury surges throughmy
body.“Why the fuckdidn’t you tellme?” I growl, and start pacingmy study.What do Iwantwith a
virgin?Sheshrugsapologetically,atalossforwords.“Idon’tunderstandwhyyoudidn’ttellme.”Theexasperationisclearinmyvoice.
“The subject never came up,” she says. “I’m not in the habit of revealingmy sexual status toeveryoneImeet.Imean,wehardlyknoweachother.”
Asever,it’safairpoint.Ican’tbelieveI’vegivenherthebustourofmyplayroom—thankheavensfortheNDA.
“Well,youknowalotmoreaboutmenow,”Isnarl.“Iknewyouwereinexperienced,butavirgin!Hell,Ana,Ijustshowedyou…”
Notonlytheplayroom:myrules,hardlimits.Sheknowsnothing.HowcouldIdothis?“MayGodforgiveme,”Imutterundermybreath.I’mataloss.
Astartlingthoughtoccurstome—ouronekissintheelevator,whereIcouldhavefuckedherthereandthen—wasthatherfirstkiss?
“Haveyoueverbeenkissed,apartfrombyme?”Pleasesayyes.“OfcourseIhave.”Shelooksoffended.Yeah,she’sbeenkissed,butnotoften.Andforsomereason
thethoughtis…pleasing.“Andaniceyoungmanhasn’tsweptyouoffyourfeet?Ijustdon’tunderstand.You’retwenty-one,
nearlytwenty-two.You’rebeautiful.”Whyhasn’tsomeguytakenhertobed?Shit,maybeshe’sreligious.No,Welchwouldhaveuncoveredthat.Shegazesdownatherfingers,
and I think she’s smiling. She thinks this is funny? I could kick myself. “And you’re seriouslydiscussingwhatIwanttodo,whenyouhavenoexperience.”
Wordsfailme.Howcanthisbe?“Howhaveyouavoidedsex?Tellme,please.”BecauseIdon’tgetit.She’sincollege—andfrom
whatIrememberofcollegeallthekidswerefuckinglikerabbits.Allofthem.Exceptme.Thethoughtisadarkone,butIpushitasideforthemoment.Anashrugs,hersmallshouldersliftingslightly.“Noone’sreally,youknow…”Shetrailsoff.Noonehaswhat?Seenhowattractiveyouare?Noone’sliveduptoyourexpectations—andIdo?Me?Shereallyknowsnothing.Howcouldsheeverbeasubmissiveifshehasnoideaaboutsex?Thisis
notgoingtofly…andallthegroundworkI’vedonehasbeenfornothing.Ican’tclosethisdeal.“Whyareyousoangrywithme?”shewhispers.Ofcourseshewouldthinkthat.Makethisright,Grey.“I’mnotangrywithyou,I’mangryatmyself.Ijustassumed—”WhythehellwouldIbeangrywith
you?Whatamessthisis.Irunmyhandsthroughmyhair,tryingtoreininmytemper.“Doyouwanttogo?”Iask,concerned.“No,unlessyouwantmetogo,”shesayssoftly,hervoicetingedwithregret.“Ofcoursenot.Ilikehavingyouhere.”ThestatementsurprisesmeasIsayit.Idolikehavingher
here. Being with her. She’s so…different. And I want to fuck her, and spank her, and watch heralabaster skin pink beneath my hands. That’s out of the question now—isn’t it? Perhaps not thefucking…perhapsIcould.Thethoughtisarevelation.Icouldtakehertobed.Breakherin.Itwouldbeanovelexperienceforbothofus.Wouldshewantto?SheaskedmeearlierifIwasgoingtomakelovetoher.Icouldtry,withouttyingherup.
Butshemighttouchme.Fuck.Iglancedownatmywatchandnotethetime.It’slate.WhenIlookbackatherthesightof
hertoyingwithherbottomliparousesme.Istillwanther,inspiteofherinnocence.CouldItakehertobed?Wouldshewantto,knowing
whatsheknowsaboutmenow?Hell,Ihavenoidea.DoIjustaskher?Butshe’sturningmeon,bitingherlipagain.Ipointitoutandsheapologizes.
“Don’tapologize.It’sjustthatIwanttobiteit,too,hard.”Herbreathhitches.Oh.Maybeshe’sinterested.Yes.Let’sdothis.Mydecisionismade.“Come,”Ioffer,holdingoutmyhand.“What?”“We’regoingtorectifythesituationrightnow.”“Whatdoyoumean?Whatsituation?”“Yoursituation.Ana,I’mgoingtomakelovetoyou,now.”“Oh.”“That’sifyouwantto.Imean,Idon’twanttopushmyluck.”“I thought you didn’tmake love. I thought you fucked hard,” she says, her voice husky and so
damnedseductive,hereyeswide,pupilsdilating.She’sflushedwithdesire—shewantsthis,too.Andawhollyunexpectedthrillunfurlsinsideme.“Icanmakeanexception,ormaybecombine
the two, we’ll see. I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me. I want ourarrangementtowork,butyoureallyneedtohavesomeideawhatyou’regettingyourselfinto.Wecanstartyourtrainingtonight—withthebasics.Thisdoesn’tmeanI’vecomeoverallheartsandflowers—it’s ameans to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do, too.” Thewords rush out in atorrent.
Grey!Getaholdofyourself.Hercheekspink.Comeon,Ana,yesorno.I’mdyinghere.“ButIhaven’tdoneallthethingsyourequirefromyourlistofrules.”Hervoiceistimid.Isshe
afraid?Ihopenot.Idon’twanthertobeafraid.“Forgetabouttherules.Forgetaboutallthosedetailsfortonight.Iwantyou.I’vewantedyousince
you fell intomy office, and I know you wantme. You wouldn’t be sitting here calmly discussingpunishmentandhardlimitsifyoudidn’t.Please,Ana,spendthenightwithme.”
Iofferhermyhandagain, and this time she takes it, and Ipullher intomyarms,holdingherflush against my body. She gasps with surprise and I feel her against me. The darkness is quiet,perhapssubduedbymylibido.Iwanther.She’ssoalluring.Thisgirlconfoundsme,everystepoftheway.I’verevealedmydarksecret,yetshe’sstillhere;shehasn’trun.
Myfingerstugatherhair,pullingherfaceuptomine,andIgazeintocaptivatingeyes.“Youareonebraveyoungwoman,”Ibreathe.“Iaminaweofyou.”I leandownandgentlykiss
her,thenteaseherlowerlipwithmyteeth.“Iwanttobitethislip.”Itugharderandshewhimpers.
Mycockhardensinresponse.“Please,Ana,letmemakelovetoyou,”Iwhisperagainsthermouth.“Yes,”sheresponds—andmybodylightsupliketheFourthofJuly.Getagrip,Grey.Wehavenoarrangementinplace,nolimitsset,she’snotminetodowithasI
please—andyetI’mexcited.Aroused.It’sanunfamiliarbutexhilaratingfeeling,desireforthiswomancoursingthroughme.I’matthetippingedgeofagiantrollercoaster.
Vanillasex?CanIdothis?WithoutanotherwordIleadheroutofmystudy,throughthelivingroom,anddownthecorridor
tomybedroom.Shefollows,herhandtightlyholdingmine.Shit.Contraception.I’msureshe’snotonthepill…Fortunately, Ihavecondomsforbackup.At
leastIdon’thavetoworryabouteverydickshe’ssleptwith.Ireleaseherbythebed,walkovertomychestofdrawers,andremovemywatch,shoes,andsocks.
“Iassumeyou’renotonthepill.”Sheshakesherhead.“Ididn’tthinkso.”FromthedrawerItakeoutapacketofcondoms,lettingherknowI’mprepared.
Shestudiesme,hereyesimpossiblylargeinherbeautifulface,andIhaveamoment’shesitation.Thisissupposedtobeabigdealforher,isn’tit?IremembermyfirsttimewithElena,howembarrassingitwas…butwhataheaven-sentrelief.DeepdownIknowIshouldsendherhome.Butthesimpletruthis,Idon’twanthertogo,andIwanther.What’smore,Icanseemydesirereflectedinherexpression,inherdarkeningeyes.
“Doyouwanttheblindsdrawn?”Iask.“Idon’tmind,”shesays.“Ithoughtyoudidn’tletanyonesleepinyourbed.”“Whosayswe’regoingtosleep?”“Oh.”Herlipsformaperfectsmallo.Mycockhardensfurther.Yes,I’dliketofuckthatmouth,
thato.Istalktowardherlikeshe’smyprey.Oh,baby,Iwanttoburymyselfinyou.Herbreathingisshallowandquick.Hercheeksarerosy…she’swary,butexcited.She’satmymercy,andknowingthatmakesmefeelpowerful.ShehasnoideawhatI’mgoingtodotoher.“Let’sgetthisjacketoff,shallwe?”Reachingup,Igentlypushherjacketoffhershoulders,foldit,andplaceitonmychair.
“DoyouhaveanyideahowmuchIwantyou,AnaSteele?”Herlipspartassheinhales,andIreachuptotouchhercheek.Herskinispetal-softbeneathmy
fingertipsastheyglidedowntoherchin.She’sentranced—lost—undermyspell.She’salreadymine.It’sintoxicating.
“DoyouhaveanyideawhatI’mgoingtodotoyou?”Imurmur,andholdherchinbetweenmythumbandforefinger.Leaningdown,Ikissherfirmly,moldingherlipstomine.Returningmykiss,she’ssoftandsweetandwilling,andIhaveanoverwhelmingneedtoseeher,allofher.Imakequickworkofherbuttons,slowlypeelingoffherblouseandlettingitfalltothefloor.Istandbacktolookather.She’swearingthepalebluebrathatTaylorbought.
She’sstunning.“Oh,Ana.Youhavethemostbeautifulskin,paleandflawless.Iwanttokisseverysingleinchof
it.”There’snotamarkonher.Thethoughtisunsettling.Iwanttoseehermarked…pink…withtiny,thinweltsfromacropmaybe.
Shecolorsadeliciousrose—embarrassed,nodoubt.IfIdonothingelse,Iwillteachhernottobeshyofherbody.Reachingup,Ipullherhairtie,freeingherhair.Ittumbleslushandchestnutaroundherface,downtoherbreasts.
“Mmm,Ilikebrunettes.”She’slovely,exceptional,ajewel.Holdingherhead,Irunmyfingersthroughherhairandpullhertome,kissingher.Shemoans
againstmeandpartsher lips, allowingmeaccess toherwarm,wetmouth.The sweet appreciativenoiseechoesthroughme—totheendofmycock.Hertongueshylymeetsmine,tentativelyprobingmymouth,andforsomereason,herfumblinginexperienceis…hot.
Shetastesluscious.Wine,grapes,andinnocence—apotent,headymixofflavors.Ifoldmyarmstightlyaroundher,relievedthatshegripsonlymyupperarms.Withonehandinherhair,holdingherinplace,Irunmyotherhanddownherspinetoherassandpushheragainstme,againstmyerection.Shemoans again. I continue tokissher, coaxingherunschooled tongue toexploremymouthas Iexplore hers.Mybody tenseswhen shemoves her hands upmy arms—and for amoment Iworrywhereshe’lltouchmenext.Shecaressesmycheek,thenstrokesmyhair.It’salittleunnerving.Butwhenshetwistsherfingersinmyhair,pullinggently…
Damn,thatfeelsgood.Igroaninresponsebutcan’tlethercontinue.Beforeshecantouchmeagain,Ipushheragainst
thebed anddrop tomyknees. Iwantheroutof these jeans—Iwant to stripher, arouseher somemore,and…keepherhandsoffme.Graspingherhips,Irunmytonguejustnorthofthewaistbandupto her navel. She tenses and inhales sharply. Fuck, does she smell and taste good, an orchard inspringtime,andIwantmyfill.Herhandsfistinmyhaironcemore;thisIdon’tmind—infact,Ilikeit.Inipherhipboneandhergriptightensinmyhair.Hereyesareclosed,hermouthslack,andshe’spanting.AsIreachupandundothebuttononherjeans,sheopenshereyesandwestudyeachother.Slowly I ease down the zipper andmovemy hands around her ass. Slippingmy hands inside thewaistband,mypalmsagainstthesoftcheeksofherbehind,Islideherjeansoff.
I can’t stopmyself. Iwant to shockher…testherboundaries rightnow.Not takingmyeyesoffhers, I deliberately lickmy lips, then lean forward and runmy nose up the center of her panties,inhalingherarousal.Closingmyeyes,Isavorher.
Lord,she’senticing.“You smell so good.” My voice is husky with want and my jeans are becoming extremely
uncomfortable.Ineedtotakethemoff.Gently,Ipushherontothebedand,graspingherrightfoot,Imakequickworkofremovinghersneakerandsock.ToteaseherIrunmythumbnailalongherinstepandshewrithesgratifyinglyon thebed,hermouthopen,watchingme, fascinated.Leaningdown,Itracemytonguealongherinstep,andmyteethgrazethelittlelinethatmythumbnailhasleftinitswake.Sheliesbackonthebed,eyesclosed,groaning.She’ssoresponsive,it’sdelightful.
“Oh, Ana, what I could do to you,” I whisper, as images of her writhing beneath me in myplayroom flash throughmymind: shackled tomy four-poster bed, bent over the table—suspendedfromthecross.Icouldteaseandtortureheruntilshebeggedforrelease…theimagesmakemyjeanseventighter.
Hell.QuicklyIremoveherothershoeandsock,andpulloffherjeans.She’salmostnakedonmybed,
herhairframingherfaceperfectly,herlong,palelegsstretchedoutininvitationbeforeme.Ihavetomakeallowancesforherinexperience.Butshe’spanting.Wanting.Hereyesfixedonme.
I’veneverfuckedanyoneinmybedbefore.AnotherfirstwithMissSteele.“You’reverybeautiful,AnastasiaSteele.Ican’twaittobeinsideyou.”Myvoiceisgentle;Iwantto
tease her somemore, find out what she does know. “Showme how you pleasure yourself,” I ask,gazingintentlydownather.
Shefrowns.“Don’tbecoy,Ana,showme.”Partofmewantstospanktheshynessoutofher.Sheshakesherhead.“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”Issheplayinggames?“Howdoyoumakeyourselfcome?Iwanttosee.”She remains mute. Clearly I’ve shocked her again. “I don’t,” she mutters finally, her voice
breathless.Igazeatherindisbelief.EvenIusedtomasturbate,beforeElenasunkherclawsintome.She’sprobablyneverhadanorgasm—thoughIfindthishardtobelieve.Whoa.I’mresponsiblefor
herfirstfuckandherfirstorgasm.I’dbettermakethisgood.“Well,we’llhavetoseewhatwecandoaboutthat.”I’mgoingtomakeyoucomelikeafreighttrain,
baby.Hell—she’sprobablyneverseenanakedman,either.Nottakingmyeyesoffhers,Iundothetop
buttononmyjeansandeasethemontothefloor,thoughIcan’trisktakingmyshirtoff,becauseshemighttouchme.
Butifshedid…itwouldn’tbesobad…wouldit?Beingtouched?Ibanishthethoughtbeforethedarknesssurfaces,andgraspingherankles,Ispreadherlegs.Her
eyeswidenandherhandsclenchmysheets.Yes.Keepyourhandsthere,baby.Icrawlslowlyupthebed,betweenherlegs.Shesquirmsbeneathme.“Keepstill,”Itellher,andleandowntokissthedelicateskinofherinnerthigh.Itrailkissesup
herthighs,overherpanties,acrossherbelly,nippingandsuckingasIgo.Shewrithesbeneathme.“We’regoingtohavetoworkonkeepingyoustill,baby.”Ifyou’llletme.I’llteachhertojustabsorbthepleasureandnotmove,intensifyingeverytouch,everykiss,every
nip.Thethoughtaloneisenoughtomakemewanttoburymyselfinher,butbeforeIdo,Iwanttoknowhowresponsiveshe is.So farshehasn’theldback.She’sallowingmefreereinoverherbody.She’snothesitant at all.Shewants this…she reallywants this. Idipmy tongue intohernavel andcontinuemyleisurelyjourneynorth,savoringher.Ishift,lyingbesideher,onelegstillbetweenhers.Myhandghostsupherbody,overherhip,upherwaist,on toherbreast.Gently I cupherbreast,tryingtogaugeherreaction.Shedoesn’tstiffen.Shedoesn’tstopme…shetrustsme.CanIextendhertrusttolettingmehavecompletedominionoverherbody…overher?Thethoughtisexhilarating.
“Youfitmyhandperfectly,Anastasia.”Dippingmyfingerintoherbracup,Ijerkitdown,freeing
herbreast.Thenippleissmall,rosepink,andit’salreadyhard.Idragthecupdownsothatthefabricandunderwire restunderherbreast, forcing itupward. I repeat theprocesswith theothercupandwatch,fascinated,ashernipplesgrowundermysteadygaze.Whoa…Ihaven’teventouchedheryet.
“Verynice,”Iwhisper inawedappreciation,andblowgentlyon thenearestnipple,watching indelightasithardensandextends.Anastasiacloseshereyesandarchesherback.
Keepstill,baby,justabsorbthepleasure,itwillfeelsomuchmoreintense.Blowingononenipple,Irolltheothergentlybetweenmythumbandforefinger.Shegraspsthe
sheetstightlyasIleandownandsuck—hard.Herbodybowsagainandshecriesout.“Let’sseeifwecanmakeyoucomelikethis,”Iwhisper,andIdon’tstop.Shestartstowhimper.Oh,yes,baby…feelthis.Hernipplesextendfartherandshestartsgrindingherhips,aroundand
around.Keepstill,baby.Iwillteachyoutokeepstill.“Oh,please,”shebegs.Herlegsstiffen.It’sworking.She’sclose.Icontinuemylasciviousassault.
Concentrating on each nipple, watching her response, sensing her pleasure, is driving me todistraction.Lord,Iwanther.
“Letgo,baby,”Imurmur,andpullhernipplewithmyteeth.Shecriesoutassheclimaxes.Yes!Imovequicklytokissher,capturinghercriesinmymouth.She’sbreathlessandpanting,lost
inherpleasure…Mine.Iownherfirstorgasm,andI’mridiculouslypleasedbythethought.“You’reveryresponsive.You’regoingtohavetolearntocontrolthat,andit’sgoingtobesomuch
funteachingyouhow.”Ican’twait…butrightnow,Iwanther.Allofher.Ikissheroncemoreandletmyhand traveldownherbody,down toher vulva. Iholdher, feelingherheat.Slippingmy indexfingerthroughthelaceofherpanties,Islowlycirclearoundher…fuck,she’ssoaking.
“You’resodeliciouslywet.God,Iwantyou.”Ithrustmyfingerinsideher,andshecriesout.She’shotandtightandwet,andIwanther.Ithrustintoheragain,takinghercriesintomymouth.Ipressmy palm to her clitoris…pushing down…pushing around. She cries out and writhes beneathme.Fuck,Iwanther—now.She’sready.Sittingup,Idragherpantiesoff,thenmyboxers,andreachforacondom.Ikneelupbetweenherlegs,pushingthemfartherapart.Anastasiawatchesmewith—what?Trepidation?She’sprobablyneverseenanerectpenisbefore.
“Don’tworry.Youexpand,too,”Imutter.Stretchingoutoverher,Iputmyhandsoneithersideofherhead,takingmyweightonmyelbows.God,Iwanther…butIcheckshe’sstillkeen.“Youreallywanttodothis?”Iask.
Forfuck’ssake,pleasedon’tsayno.“Please,”shebegs.“Pullyourkneesup,”I instructher.This’llbeeasier.HaveIeverbeensoaroused?Icanbarely
containmyself.Idon’tgetit…itmustbeher.Why?Grey,focus!IpositionmyselfsoIcantakeheratmywhim.Hereyesareopenwide,imploringme.Shereally
wantsthis…asmuchasIdo.ShouldIbegentleandprolongtheagony,ordoIgoforit?Igoforit.Ineedtopossessher.“I’mgoingtofuckyounow,MissSteele.Hard.”
OnethrustandI’minsideher.F.U.C.K.She’ssofuckingtight.Shecriesout.Shit! I’ve hurt her. Iwant tomove, to losemyself in her, and it takes allmy restraint to stop.
“You’resotight.Youokay?”Iask,myvoiceahoarse,anxiouswhisper,andshenods,eyeswider.She’slikeheavenonearth,sotightaroundme.Andeventhoughherhandsareonmyforearms,Idon’tcare.Thedarkness is slumbering,perhapsbecause I’vewantedher for so long. I’venever felt thisdesire,this…hunger before. It’s a new feeling, new and shiny. I want so much from her: her trust, herobedience,hersubmission.Iwanthertobemine,butrightnow…I’mhers.
“I’mgoingtomove,baby.”MyvoiceisstrainedasIeasebackslowly.It’ssuchanextraordinary,exquisitefeeling:herbodycradlingmycock.Ipushintoheragainandclaimher,knowingnoonehasbefore.Shewhimpers.
Istop.“More?”“Yes,”shebreathes,afteramoment.ThistimeIthrustintohermoredeeply.“Again?”Iplead,assweatbeadsonmybody.“Yes.”Her trust inme—it’s suddenly overwhelming, and I start tomove, reallymove. I want her to
come.Iwillnotstopuntilshecomes.Iwanttoownthiswoman,bodyandsoul.Iwantherclenchingaroundme.
Fuck—shestartsmeetingeverythrust,matchingmyrhythm.Seehowwellwefittogether,Ana? Igraspherhead,holdingherinplacewhileIclaimherbodyandkissherhard,claiminghermouth.Shestiffensbeneathme…fuckyes.Herorgasmisclose.
“Comeforme,Ana,”Idemand,andshecriesoutasshe’sconsumed,tippingherheadback,hermouthopen,hereyesclosed…andjustthesightofherecstasyisenough.Iexplodeinher,losingallsenseandreason,asIcallouthernameandcomeviolentlyinsideher.
WhenIopenmyeyesI’mpanting,tryingtocatchmybreath,andwe’reforeheadtoforeheadandshe’sstaringupatme.
Fuck.I’mundone.Iplantaswiftkissonherforeheadandpulloutofherandliedownbesideher.ShewincesasIwithdraw,butotherthanthatshelooksokay.“DidIhurtyou?”Iask,andItuckherhairbehindherear,becauseIdon’twanttostoptouching
her.Anabeamswithincredulity.“Youareaskingmeifyouhurtme?”AndforamomentIdon’tknowwhyshe’sgrinning.Oh.Myplayroom.“Theironyisnotlostonme,”Imutter.Evennowsheconfoundsme.“Seriously,areyouokay?”Shestretchesoutbesideme,testingherbodyandteasingmewithanamusedbutsatedexpression.“Youhaven’tansweredme,”Igrowl.Ineedtoknowifshefoundthatenjoyable.Alltheevidence
points to a “yes”—but I need to hear it from her. While I’m waiting for her reply I remove thecondom.Lord,Ihatethesethings.Idiscarditdiscreetlyonthefloor.
Shepeersupatme.“I’dliketodothatagain,”shesayswithashygiggle.What?Again?Already?“Would younow,MissSteele?” I kiss thecornerofhermouth. “Demanding little thing, aren’t
you?Turnonyourfront.”ThatwayIknowyouwon’ttouchme.She givesme a brief sweet smile, then rolls onto her stomach.My cock stirs with approval. I
unhook her bra and run my hand down her back to her pert behind. “You really have the mostbeautifulskin,”Isay,asIbrushherhairoffherfaceandpushherlegsapart.GentlyIplantsoftkissesonhershoulder.
“Whyareyouwearingyourshirt?”sheasks.She’ssodamninquisitive.Whileshe’sonherfrontIknowshecan’ttouchme,soIleanbackand
pullmyshirtovermyheadandlet itdroptothefloor.Fullynaked,I lieontopofher.Herskiniswarm,andmeltsagainstmine.
Hmm…Icouldgetusedtothis.“Soyouwantme to fuck youagain?” Iwhisper inher ear, kissingher.She squirmsdeliciously
againstme.Oh,thiswillneverdo.Keepstill,baby.Iskimmyhanddownherbodytothebackofherknee,thenhitchituphigh,partingherlegswide
so that she’s spread beneath me. Her breath catches and I hope it’s with anticipation. She stillsbeneathme.
Finally!IpalmherassasIeasemyweightontoher.“I’mgoingtotakeyoufrombehind,Anastasia.”With
myotherhandIgrabherhairatthenapeandtuggently,holdingherinplace.Shecannotmove.Herhandsarehelplessandsplayedagainstthesheets,outofharm’sway.
“Youaremine,”Iwhisper.“Onlymine.Don’tforgetit.”WithmyfreehandImovefromherasstoherclitorisandbegincirclingslowly.Hermuscles flexbeneathmeas she tries tomove,butmyweightkeepsher inplace. I runmy
teeth along her jawline. Her sweet fragrance lingers over the scent of our coupling. “You smelldivine,”Iwhisper,asInuzzlebehindherear.
Shestartstocircleherhipsagainstmymovinghand.“Keepstill,”Iwarn.OrImightstop…Slowly I insertmy thumb insideher and circle it around and around, taking particular care to
strokethefrontwallofhervagina.Shegroansandtensesbeneathme,tryingtomoveagain.
“Youlikethis?”Itease,andmyteethtraceherouterear.Idon’tstopmyfingersfromtormentingherclitoris,butIbegintoeasemythumbinandoutofher.Shestiffens,butcan’tmove.
Shegroansloudly,hereyesscruncheduptight.“You’resowet,soquickly.Soresponsive.Oh,Anastasia,Ilikethat.Ilikethatalot.”Right.Let’sseehowfaryou’llgo.Iwithdrawmythumbfromhervagina.“Openyourmouth,”Iorder,andwhenshedoesIthrust
mythumbbetweenherlips.“Seehowyoutaste.Suckme,baby.”Shesucksmythumb…hard.Fuck.AndforamomentIimagineit’smycockinhermouth.“Iwanttofuckyourmouth,Anastasia,andIwillsoon.”I’mbreathless.Sheclosesherteetharoundme,bitingmehard.Ow!Fuck.Igripherhairtightlyandsheloosenshermouth.“Naughty,sweetgirl.”Mymindflitsthrougha
numberofpunishmentsworthyofsuchaboldmovethat,ifsheweremysubmissive,Icouldinflictonher.Mycockexpandstoburstingatthethought.Ireleaseherandsitbackonmyknees.
“Staystill,don’tmove.”Igrabanothercondomfrommybedsidetable,ripopenthefoil,androllthelatexovermyerection.
Watching her, I see that she’s still, except for the rise and fall of her back as she pants inanticipation.
She’sgorgeous.Leaningoverheragain,Igraspherhairandholdhersoshecan’tmoveherhead.“We’regoingtogorealslowthistime,Anastasia.”Shegasps,andgentlyIeaseintoheruntilIcangonofarther.Fuck.Shefeelsgood.AsIeaseoutIcirclemyhipsandslowlyslip intoheragain.Shewhimpersandher limbs tense
beneathmeasshetriestomove.Ohno,baby.Iwantyoustill.Iwantyoutofeelthis.Takeallthepleasure.“Youfeelsogood,”Itellher,andrepeatthemoveagain,circlingmyhipsasIgo.Slowly.In.Out.
In.Out.Herinsidesstarttotremble.“Ohno,baby,notyet.”NowayamIlettingyoucome.NotwhenI’menjoyingthissomuch.“Oh,please,”shecries.“Iwantyousore,baby.”Ipulloutandsinkintoheragain.“Everytimeyoumovetomorrow,Iwant
youtoberemindedthatI’vebeenhere.Onlyme.Youaremine.”“Please,Christian,”shebegs.“Whatdoyouwant,Anastasia?Tellme.”Icontinuetheslowtorture.“Tellme.”“You,please.”She’sdesperate.Shewantsme.Goodgirl.Iincreasethepaceandherinsidesbegintoquiver,respondingimmediately.Betweeneach thrust Iutteroneword. “You.Are.So.Sweet. I.Want.You.So.Much.You.Are.
Mine.”Herlimbstremblewiththestrainofkeepingstill.She’sontheedge.“Comeforme,baby,”Igrowl.
Andoncommandshe shuddersaroundmeasherorgasmrips throughherand she screamsmynameintothemattress.
Mynameonherlipsismyundoing,andIclimaxandcollapseontopofher.“Fuck.Ana,”Iwhisper,drainedyetelated.Ipulloutofheralmostimmediatelyandrollontomy
back.Shecurlsupatmyside,andasIpulloffthecondom,shecloseshereyesandfallsasleep.
SUNDAY,MAY22,2011
Iwakewithastartandapervadingsenseofguilt,asifI’vecommittedaterriblesin.IsitbecauseI’vefuckedAnastasiaSteele?Virgin?She’ssnuggledupfastasleepbesideme.Ichecktheradioalarm:it’safter threeinthemorning.
Anasleepsthesoundsleepofaninnocent.Well,notsoinnocentnow.MybodystirsasIwatchher.Icouldwakeher.Fuckheragain.Therearedefinitelysomeadvantagestohavingherinmybed.Grey.Stopthisnonsense.Fuckingherwasmerelyameanstoanendandapleasantdiversion.Yes.Verypleasant.Morelikeincredible.Itwasjustsex,forfuck’ssake.Iclosemyeyesinwhatwillprobablybeafutileattempttosleep.ButtheroomistoofullofAna:
her scent, the soundofher softbreathing, and thememoryofmy first vanilla fuck.Visionsofherhead thrownback inpassion, ofher cryingout abarely recognizable versionofmyname, andherunbridledenthusiasmforsexualcongressoverwhelmme.
MissSteeleisacarnalcreature.Shewillbeajoytotrain.Mycocktwitchesinagreement.Shit.I can’t sleep, though tonight it’s not nightmares that keep me awake, it’s little Miss Steele.
Climbingoutofbed,Icollecttheusedcondomsfromthefloor,knotthem,anddisposeoftheminthewastepaperbasket.FromthechestofdrawersIpulloutapairofPJpantsanddragthemon.Withalingeringlookattheenticingwomaninmybed,Iventureintothekitchen.I’mthirsty.
OnceI’vehadaglassofwater,IdowhatIalwaysdowhenIcan’tsleep—Icheckmye-mailinmystudy.TaylorhasreturnedandisaskingifhecanstandCharlieTangodown.Stephanmustbeasleepupstairs.Ie-mailhimbackwitha“yes,”thoughatthistimeofnightit’sagiven.
Back in the living roomI sitdownatmypiano.This ismy solace,where Ican losemyself forhours.I’vebeenabletoplaywellsinceIwasnine,butitwasn’tuntilIhadmyownpiano,inmyownplace,thatitreallybecameapassion.WhenIwanttoforgeteverything,thisiswhatIdo.AndrightnowIdon’twanttothinkabouthavingpropositionedavirgin,fuckedher,orrevealedmylifestyletosomeone with no experience.Withmy hands on the keys, I begin to play and losemyself in thesolitudeofBach.
A movement distracts me from the music, and when I look up Ana’s standing by the piano.Wrappedinacomforter,herhairwildandcurlingdownherback,eyesluminous,shelooksstunning.
“Sorry,”shesays.“Ididn’tmeantodisturbyou.”Whyissheapologizing?“Surely,Ishouldbesayingthattoyou.”Iplaythelastnotesandstand.
“Youshouldbeinbed,”Ichide.“Thatwasabeautifulpiece.Bach?”“TranscriptionbyBach,butit’soriginallyanoboeconcertobyAlessandroMarcello.”“Itwasexquisite,butverysad,suchamelancholymelody.”Melancholy?Itwouldn’tbethefirsttimesomeonehasusedthatwordtodescribeme.
“MayIspeakfreely?Sir.”LeilaiskneelingbesidemewhileIwork.“Youmay.”“Sir,youaremostmelancholytoday.”“AmI?”“Yes,Sir.Istheresomethingthatyouwouldlikemetodo…?”
Ishakeoffthememory.Anashouldbeinbed.Itellhersoagain.“Iwokeandyouweren’tthere.”“Ifinditdifficulttosleep,andI’mnotusedtosleepingwithanyone.”I’vetoldherthis—andwhy
amIjustifyingmyself?Iwrapmyarmaroundhernakedshoulders,enjoyingthefeelofherskin,andguideherbacktothebedroom.
“Howlonghaveyoubeenplaying?Youplaybeautifully.”“SinceIwassix.”I’mabrupt.“Oh,”shesays.Ithinkshe’stakenthehint—Idon’twanttotalkaboutmychildhood.“Howareyoufeeling?”IaskasIswitchonthebedsidelight.“I’mgood.”There’sbloodonmysheets.Herblood.Evidenceofhernow-absentvirginity.Hereyesdartfrom
thestainstomeandshelooksaway,embarrassed.“Well,that’sgoingtogiveMrs.Jonessomethingtothinkabout.”Shelooksmortified.It’sjustyourbody,sweetheart.IgraspherchinandtipherheadbacksoIcanseeherexpression.
I’mabouttogiveherashortlectureonhownottobeashamedofherbody,whenshereachesouttotouchmychest.
Fuck.Istepoutofherreachasthedarknesssurfaces.No.Don’ttouchme.“Get intobed,”Iorder, rathermoresharply thanI’d intended,butIhopeshedoesn’tdetectmy
fear.Hereyeswidenwithconfusionandmaybehurt.Damn.
“I’llcomeandliedownwithyou,”Iadd,asapeaceoffering,andfromthechestofdrawersIpulloutaT-shirtandquicklyslipiton,forprotection.
She’sstillstanding,staringatme.“Bed,”Icommandmoreforcefully.Shescramblesintomybedand lies down and I climb in behindher, foldingher inmy arms. I burymy face inherhair andinhalehersweetscent:autumnandappletrees.Facingaway,shecan’ttouchme,andwhileIliethereIresolvetospoonwithheruntilshe’sasleep.ThenI’llgetupanddosomework.
“Sleep,sweetAnastasia.”Ikissherhairandclosemyeyes.Herscentfillsmynostrils,remindingmeofahappytimeandleavingmereplete…content,even…
Mommyishappytoday.Sheissinging.Singingaboutwhatlovehastodowithit.Andcooking.Andsinging.Mytummygurgles.Sheiscookingbaconandwaffles.Theysmellgood.Mytummylikesbaconandwaffles.Theysmellsogood.
Opening my eyes, light is flooding through the windows and there’s a mouthwatering aromacomingfromthekitchen.Bacon.MomentarilyI’mconfused.IsGailbackfromhersister’s?
ThenIremember.Ana.Alookattheclocktellsmeit’slate.Ibounceoutofbedandfollowmynosetothekitchen.There’sAna.She’swearingmy shirt,herhair inbraids,dancingaround to somemusic.Only I
can’thear it.She’swearingearbuds.Unobserved, I takea seatat thekitchencounterandwatch theshow.She’swhiskingeggs,makingbreakfast,herbraidsbouncingasshejigglesfromfoottofoot,andIrealizeshe’snotwearingunderwear.
Goodgirl.ShehastobeoneofthemostuncoordinatedfemalesI’veeverseen.It’samusing,charming,and
strangelyarousingatthesametime;IthinkofallthewaysIcanimprovehercoordination.Whensheturnsandspotsme,shefreezes.
“Goodmorning,MissSteele.You’revery…energeticthismorning.”Shelooksevenyoungerinherbraids.
“I-Isleptwell,”shestammers.“Ican’timaginewhy,”Iquip,admittingtomyselfthatIdid,too.It’safternine.WhendidIlast
sleeppast6:30?Yesterday.AfterI’dsleptwithher.“Areyouhungry?”sheasks.“Very.”AndI’mnotsureifit’sforbreakfastorforher.“Pancakes,bacon,andeggs?”shesays.
“Soundsgreat.”“I don’t know where you keep your placemats,” she says, seeming at a loss, and I think she’s
embarrassed,becauseIcaughtherdancing.Takingpityonher,Ioffertosetplacesforbreakfastandadd,“Wouldyoulikemetoputsomemusiconsoyoucancontinueyour…er…dancing?”
Hercheekspinkandshelooksdownatthefloor.Damn.I’veupsether.“Please,don’tstoponmyaccount.It’sveryentertaining.”Withapoutsheturnsherbackonmeandcontinuestowhisktheeggswithgusto.Iwonderifshe
hasany ideahowdisrespectful this is to someone likeme…butofcourse shedoesn’t,and for someunfathomablereasonitmakesmesmile.Sidlinguptoher,Igentlytugoneofherbraids.“Ilovethese.Theywon’tprotectyou.”
Notfromme.NotnowthatI’vehadyou.“Howwouldyoulikeyoureggs?”Hertoneisunexpectedlyhaughty.AndIwanttolaughoutloud,
butIresist.“Thoroughlywhiskedandbeaten,” I reply, tryingand failing to sounddeadpan.Sheattempts to
hideheramusement,too,andcontinueshertask.Hersmileisbewitching.Hastily,Isetuptheplacemats,wonderingwhenIlastdidthisforsomeoneelse.Never.Normallyovertheweekendmysubmissivewouldtakecareofalldomestictasks.Nottoday,Grey,becauseshe’snotyoursubmissive…yet.Ipourusbothorangejuiceandputthecoffeeon.Shedoesn’tdrinkcoffee,onlytea.“Wouldyou
likesometea?”“Yes,please.Ifyouhavesome.”InthecupboardIfindtheTwiningsteabagsI’daskedGailtobuy.Well,well,whowouldhavethoughtI’devergettousethem?Shefrownswhensheseesthem.“Bitofaforegoneconclusion,wasn’tI?”“Areyou?I’mnotsurewe’veconcludedanythingyet,MissSteele,”Ianswerwithasternlook.Anddon’ttalkaboutyourselflikethat.Iaddherself-deprecationtothelistofbehaviorsthatwillneedmodifying.Sheavoidsmygaze,busywithservingupbreakfast.Twoplatesareplacedontheplacemats,then
shefetchesthemaplesyrupoutofthefridge.When she looks up atme I’mwaiting for her to sit down. “Miss Steele.” I indicate where she
shouldsit.“Mr.Grey,”shereplies,withcontrivedformality,andwincesasshesits.“Just how sore are you?” I’m surprised by an uneasy sense of guilt. I want to fuck her again,
preferablyafterbreakfast,butifshe’stoosorethatwillbeoutofthequestion.PerhapsIcouldusehermouththistime.
The color in her face rises. “Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to,” she saystartly.“Didyouwish toofferyourcommiserations?”Hersarcastic tone takesmebysurprise. If she
weremine,itwouldearnheraspankingatleast,maybeoverthekitchencounter.“No.Iwonderedifweshouldcontinueyourbasictraining.”“Oh.”Shestartles.Yes,Ana,wecanhavesexduringtheday,too.AndI’dliketofillthatsmartmouthofyours.I take a bite ofmy breakfast and closemy eyes in appreciation. It tastesmighty fine.When I
swallowshe’sstillstaringatme.“Eat,Anastasia,”Iorder.“Thisisdelicious,incidentally.”Shecancook,andwell.Ana takesonebiteofher food, thenpushesherbreakfast aroundonherplate. I askher to stop
biting her lip. “It’s very distracting, and I happen to know you’re not wearing anything undermyshirt.”
Shefidgetswithherteabagandtheteapot,ignoringmyirritation.“Whatsortofbasictrainingdidyouhaveinmind?”sheasks.
She’sever-curious—let’sseehowfarshe’llgo.“Well,asyou’resore,Ithoughtwecouldsticktooralskills.”Shespluttersintoherteacup.Hell.Idon’twanttochokethegirl.Gently,Ipatheronthebackandhandheraglassoforange
juice.“That’sifyouwanttostay.”Ishouldn’tpushmyluck.“I’dliketostayfortoday.Ifthat’sokay.Ihavetoworktomorrow.”“Whattimedoyouhavetobeatworktomorrow?”“Nine.”“I’llgetyoutoworkbyninetomorrow.”What?Iwanthertostay?It’sasurprisetome.Yes,Iwanthertostay.“I’llneedtogohometonight—Ineedcleanclothes.”“Wecangetyousomehere.”Sheflipsherhairandgnawsnervouslyatherlip…again.“Whatisit?”Iask.“Ineedtobehomethisevening.”Boy,she’sstubborn.Idon’twanthertogo,butatthisstage,withnoagreement,Ican’tinsistthat
shestay.“Okay,thisevening.Noweatyourbreakfast.”Sheexaminesherfood.“Eat,Anastasia.Youdidn’teatlastnight.”“I’mreallynothungry,”shesays.Well,thisisfrustrating.“Iwouldreallylikeyoutofinishyourbreakfast.”Myvoiceislow.“Whatisitwithyouandfood?”shesnaps.Oh,baby,youreallydon’twanttoknow.“Itoldyou,Ihaveissueswithwastedfood.Eat.”Iglareat
her.Don’tpushmeonthis,Ana.Shegivesmeamulishlookandstartstoeat.
AsIwatchherplacea forkfulofeggs inhermouth, I relax.She’squitechallenging inherownway.Andit’sunique.I’veneverdealtwiththis.Yes.That’sit.She’sanovelty.That’sthefascination…isn’tit?
WhenshefinishesherfoodItakeherplate.“Youcooked,I’llclear.”“That’sverydemocratic,”shesays,archinganeyebrow.“Yes.Notmyusualstyle.AfterI’vedonethis,we’lltakeabath.”AndIcantestheroralskills.Itakeaswiftbreathtocontrolmyinstantarousalatthethought.Hell.Herphoneringsandshewanderstotheendoftheroom,deepinconversation.Ipausebythesink
andwatchher.Asshestandsagainsttheglasswall,themorninglightsilhouettesherbodyinmywhiteshirt.Mymouthdries.She’sslim,withlonglegs,perfectbreasts,andaperfectass.
Stillonhercall,sheturnstowardmeandIpretendmyattentioniselsewhere.ForsomereasonIdon’twanthertocatchmeogling.
Whoisitonthephone?IhearKavanagh’snamementionedandItense.Whatisshesaying?Oureyeslock.Whatareyousaying,Ana?Sheturnsawayandamomentlaterhangsup,thenwalksbacktowardme,herhipsswayingina
soft,seductiverhythmbeneathmyshirt.ShouldItellherwhatIcansee?“The NDA, does it cover everything?” she asks, halting me in my tracks as I shut the pantry
cupboard.“Why?”Where’sshegoingwiththis?WhathasshesaidtoKavanagh?She takesadeepbreath.“Well, Ihavea fewquestions,youknow,about sex.AndI’d like toask
Kate.”“Youcanaskme.”“Christian,withallduerespect—”Shestops.She’sembarrassed?“It’sjustaboutmechanics.Iwon’tmentiontheRedRoomofPain,”shesaysinarush.“RedRoomofPain?”Whatthehell?“It’smostly about pleasure,Anastasia.Believeme.Besides, your roommate ismaking thebeast
withtwobackswithmybrother.I’dreallyratheryoudidn’t.”Idon’twantElliottoknowanythingaboutmysexlife.He’dneverletmeliveitdown.“Doesyourfamilyknowaboutyour…um,predilection?”“No.It’snoneoftheirbusiness.”She’sburningtoasksomething.“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”Iask,standinginfrontofher,scrutinizingherface.Whatisit,Ana?
“Nothingspecificatthemoment,”shewhispers.“Well, we can startwith: howwas last night for you?”My breathing shallows as Iwait for her
answer.Ourwholedealcouldhangonherresponse.“Good,”shesays,andgivesmeasoft,sexysmile.It’swhatIwanttohear.“Forme,too.I’veneverhadvanillasexbefore.There’salottobesaidforit.Butthen,maybeit’s
becauseit’swithyou.”Hersurpriseandpleasureatmywordsareobvious.Ibrushherplumplowerlipwithmythumb.
I’mitchingtotouchher…again.“Come,let’shaveabath.”Ikissherandtakeherintomybathroom.“Stay there,” Iorder, turning the faucet, thenaddingscentedoil to thesteamingwater.Thetub
fillsquicklyas shewatchesme.Normally, IwouldexpectanywomanIwasabout tobathewith tohavehereyescastdowninmodesty.
ButnotAna.Shedoesn’tdrophergaze,andhereyesglowwithanticipationandcuriosity.Butshehasherarms
wrappedaroundherself;she’sshy.It’sarousing.Andtothinkshe’sneverbathedwithaman.Icanclaimanotherfirst.WhenthebathisfullIpeeloffmyT-shirtandholdoutmyhand.“MissSteele.”Sheacceptsmyinvitationandstepsintothebath.“Turnaround,faceme,”Iinstruct.“Iknowthatlipisdelicious,Icanattesttothat,butwillyou
stopbitingit?Yourchewingitmakesmewanttofuckyou,andyou’resore,okay?”Sheinhalessharply,releasingherlip.“Yeah.Getthepicture?”Stillstanding,shegivesmeanemphaticnod.“Good.”She’sstillwearingmyshirtandItaketheiPodfromthebreastpocketandplaceitbythe
sink.“WaterandiPods—notaclevercombination.”Igrabthehemandpullitoffher.ImmediatelyshehangsherheadwhenIstepbacktoadmireher.
“Hey.”Myvoiceisgentleandencourageshertopeekupatme.“Anastasia,you’reaverybeautifulwoman, the whole package. Don’t hang your head like you’re ashamed. You have nothing to beashamedof,andit’sarealjoytostandhereandlookatyou.”Holdingherchin,Itipherheadback.
Don’thidefromme,baby.“Youcansitdownnow.”Shesitsdownwithindecenthasteandwincesashersorebodyhitsthewater.Okay…Shescrewshereyesshutassheliesback,butwhensheopensthem,shelooksmorerelaxed.“Why
don’tyoujoinme?”sheaskswithacoysmile.“IthinkIwill.Moveforward.”Stripping,Iclimbinbehindher,pullhertomychest,andplace
mylegsaroundhers,myfeetoverherankles,andthenIpullherlegsapart.
Shewriggles againstme,but I ignorehermotion andburymynose inherhair. “You smell sogood,Anastasia,”Iwhisper.
She settlesand Igrab thebodywash from the shelfbesideus.Squeezing some intomyhand, Iworkthesoapintoalatherandstartmassagingherneckandshoulders.Shemoansasherheadlollstoonesideundermytenderministration.
“Youlikethat?”Iask.“Hmm,”shehumsincontentment.Iwashherarmsandherunderarms,thenreachmyfirstgoal:herbreasts.Lord,thefeelofher.Shehasperfectbreasts.Ikneadandteasethem.Shegroansandflexesherhipsandherbreathing
accelerates.She’saroused.Mybodyrespondsinkind,growingbeneathher.Myhandsskimoverhertorsoandherbellytowardmysecondgoal.BeforeIreachherpubichairI
stopandgrabawashcloth.Squirting somesoaponto thecloth, Ibegin the slowprocessofwashingbetweenher legs.Gentle, slowbut sure, rubbing,washing, cleaning, stimulating.She starts topantandherhipsmoveinsynchronizationwithmyhand.Herheadrestingagainstmyshoulder,hereyesclosed,hermouthopeninasilentmoanasshesurrenderstomyrelentlessfingers.
“Feelit,baby.”Irunmyteethalongherearlobe.“Feelitforme.”“Oh, please,” shewhines, and she tries to straighten her legs, but I have thempinioned under
mine.Enough.Nowthatshe’sallworkedupintoalatherI’mreadytoproceed.“Ithinkyou’recleanenoughnow,”Iannounce,andtakemyhandsoffofher.“Why are you stopping?” she protests, her eyes fluttering open, revealing frustration and
disappointment.“BecauseIhaveotherplansforyou,Anastasia.”She’spantingand,ifI’mnotmistaken,pouting.Good.“Turnaround.Ineedwashing,too.”Shedoes,herfacerosy,hereyesbright,pupilslarge.Liftingmyhips,Igrabmycock.“Iwantyoutobecomewellacquainted,onfirst-nameterms, if
youwill,withmyfavoriteandmostcherishedpartofmybody.I’mveryattachedtothis.”Hermouthdropsopenasshelooksfrommypenis tomyface…andbackagain.Ican’thelpmy
wickedgrin.Herfaceisapictureofmaidenlyoutrage.Butasshestares,herexpressionchanges.Firstthoughtful,thenassessing,andwhenhereyesmeet
mine,thechallengeinthemisclear.Oh,bringiton,MissSteele.Hersmileisoneofdelightasshereachesforthebodywash.Takinghersweettime,shedrizzles
someofthesoapintoherpalmand,withouttakinghereyesoffmine,rubsherhandstogether.Herlips part and shebites her bottom lip, runningher tongue across the little indentations left byher
teeth.AnaSteele,seductress!Mycockrespondsinappreciation,hardeningfurther.Reachingforward,shegrabsme,herhand
fisting aroundme.My breath hisses out through clenched teeth and I closemy eyes, savoring themoment.
Here,Idon’tmindbeingtouched.No,Idon’tmindatall…Placingmyhandoverhers,Ishowherwhattodo.“Likethis.”Myvoice
ishoarseasIguideher.Shetightensherholdaroundmeandherhandmovesupanddownbeneathmine.
Ohyes.“That’sright,baby.”Ireleaseherandlethercontinue,closingmyeyesandsurrenderingtotherhythmshe’sset.Oh,God.Whatisitaboutherinexperiencethatissoarousing?IsitthatI’menjoyingallherfirsts?Suddenlyshedrawsmeintohermouth,suckinghard,hertonguetorturingme.Fuck.“Whoa…Ana.”Shesucksharder;hereyesarealightwith femininecunning.This isherrevenge,her tit for tat.
Shelooksstunning.“Christ,”Igrowl,andclosemyeyessoIdon’tcomeimmediately.Shecontinueshersweettorture,
andasherconfidencegrowsIflexmyhips,pushingmyselffartherintohermouth.HowfarcanIgo,baby?Watchingher is stimulating, so stimulating. I grabherhair and start toworkhermouthas she
supportsherselfwithherhandsonmythighs.“Oh.Baby.That.Feels.Good.”Sheconfinesherteethbehindherlipsandpullsmeintohermouthoncemore.“Ah!”Igroan,andwonderhowdeepshe’llallowme.Hermouthtormentsme,hershieldedteeth
squeezinghard.AndIwantmore.“Jesus.Howfarcanyougo?”Hereyesmeetmineandshefrowns.Then,withalookofdetermination,sheslidesdownonme
untilIhitthebackofherthroat.Fuck.“Anastasia, I’mgoing tocomeinyourmouth,”Iwarnher,breathless.“Ifyoudon’twantmeto,
stop now.” I thrust into her again and again, watchingmy cock disappear and reappear from hermouth. It’sbeyonderotic. I’msoclose.Suddenlyshebaresher teeth,gentlysqueezingme,andI’mundone,ejaculatingintothebackofherthroat,cryingoutmypleasure.
Fuck.Mybreathingislabored.She’scompletelydisarmedme…again!WhenIopenmyeyesshe’sglowingwithpride.Assheshouldbe.Thatwasonehellofablowjob.
“Don’tyouhaveagagreflex?”ImarvelatherasIcatchmybreath.“Christ,Ana…thatwas…good,reallygood.Unexpected,though.Youknow,youneverceasetoamazeme.”Praiseforajobwelldone.
Wait,thatwassogood,perhapsshehassomeexperienceafterall.“Haveyoudonethatbefore?”Iask,andI’mnotsureIwanttoknow.
“No,”shesayswithobviouspride.“Good.”Ihopemyreliefisnottooobvious.“Yetanotherfirst,MissSteele.Well,yougetanAin
oralskills.Come,let’sgotobed,Ioweyouanorgasm.”Iclimboutofthebathalittledazedandwrapatowelaroundmywaist.Grabbinganother,Ihold
itupandhelpheroutofthebath,swathingherinitsoshe’strapped.Iholdheragainstme,kissingher,reallykissingher.Exploringhermouthwithmytongue.
Itastemyejaculateinhermouth.Graspingherhead,Ideepenthekiss.Iwanther.Allofher.Herbodyandsoul.Iwanthertobemine.Staringdownintobemusedeyes,Iimploreher.“Sayyes.”“Towhat?”shewhispers.“Yestoourarrangement.Tobeingmine.Please,Ana.”Andit’stheclosestI’vecometobeggingin
alongtime.Ikissheragain,pouringmyfervorintomykiss.WhenItakeherhand,shelooksdazed.Dazzleherfurther,Grey.Inmybedroom,Ireleaseher.“Trustme?”Iask.Shenods.“Goodgirl.”Good.Beautiful.Girl.Iheadintomyclosettoselectoneofmyties.WhenI’mbackinfrontofher,Itakehertoweland
dropitonthefloor.“Holdyourhandstogetherinfrontofyou.”ShelicksherlipsinwhatIthinkisamomentofuncertainty,thenholdsoutherhands.SwiftlyI
bindherwriststogetherwiththetie.Itesttheknot.Yes.It’ssecure.Timeformoretraining,MissSteele.Herlipspartassheinhales…she’sexcited.GentlyItugbothherbraids.“Youlooksoyoungwiththese.”Butthey’renotgoingtostopme.I
dropmytowel.“Oh,Anastasia,whatshallIdotoyou?”Igraspherupperarmsandpushhergentlybackonthebed,keepingholdofhersothatshedoesn’tfall.Onceshe’sprostrate,I liedownbesideher, grab her fists, and raise them above her head. “Keep your hands up here, don’t move them.Understand?”
Sheswallows.“Answerme.”“Iwon’tmovemyhands,”shesays,hervoicehusky.“Goodgirl.”Ican’thelpmysmile.Sheliesbesideme,wristsbound,helpless.Mine.
NotquitetodowithasIwish—yet—butgettingthere.Leaningdown,IkissherlightlyandletherknowthatI’llkissherallover.Shesighsasmylipsmovefromthebaseofhereardowntothehollowatthebottomofherneck.
I’mrewardedwithherappreciativemoan.Abruptlyshelowersherarmssothattheycirclemyneck.No.No.No.Thiswillnotdo,MissSteele.Glaringdownather,Iplacethemfirmlybackaboveherhead.“Don’tmoveyourhands,orwejust
havetostartalloveragain.”“Iwanttotouchyou,”shewhispers.“Iknow.”Butyoucan’t.“Keepyourhandsaboveyourhead.”Herlipsarepartedandherchestisheavingwitheachrapidbreath.She’sturnedon.Good.Cuppingherchin,Istartkissingmywaydownherbody.Myhandtravelsoverherbreasts,mylips
inhotpursuit.Withonehandonherbelly,holdingherinplace,Ipayhomagetoeachofhernipples,suckingandnippinggently,delightingintheirhardeningresponse.
Shemewlsandherhipsstarttomove.“Keepstill,”Iwarnagainstherskin.Iplantkissesacrossherbelly,wheremytongueexploresthe
tasteanddepthofhernavel.“Ah,”shemoansandsquirms.Iwillhavetoteachhertokeepstill…Myteethgrazeher skin.“Hmm.Youareso sweet,MissSteele.” Igentlynipbetweenhernavel
andpubichair, thensitupbetweenherlegs.Grabbingbothherankles,Ispreadherlegswide.Likethis,naked,vulnerable, she isaglorioussight tobehold.Holdingher left foot, Ibendherkneeandraisehertoestomylips,watchingherfaceasIdo.Ikisseachtoe,thenbitethesoftpadoneach.
Hereyesarewideandhermouthisopen,movingalternatelyfromasmalltoacapitalO.WhenIbitethepadonherlittletoealittleharder,herpelvisflexesandshewhimpers.Irunmytongueoverher instep to her ankle. She scrunches her eyes closed, her head twisting from side to side, as Icontinuetotormenther.
“Oh,please,”shebegswhenIsuckandbiteherlittletoe.“Allgoodthings,MissSteele,”Itease.WhenIgettoherknee,Idon’tstopbutcontinue,licking,sucking,andbitinguptheinsideofher
thigh,spreadingherlegswideasIdo.Shetrembles,inshock,anticipatingmytongueattheapexofherthighs.Ohno…notyet,MissSteele.Ireturnmyattentionstoherleftleg,kissingandnippingfromherkneeuptheinsideofherthigh.ShetenseswhenIfinallyliebetweenherlegs.Butshekeepsherarmsraised.Goodgirl.Gently,Irunmynoseupanddownhervulva.Shewrithesbeneathme.Istop.Shehastolearntokeepstill.
Sheraisesherheadtolookatme.“Doyouknowhowintoxicatingyousmell,MissSteele?”Holdingherstarewithmyown,Ipush
mynoseintoherpubichairandbreathedeeply.Herheadflopsbackinthebedandshegroans.Iblowgentlyupanddownoverherpubichair.“Ilikethis,”Imutter.It’sbeenalongtimesince
I’veseenpubichairupcloseandpersonallikethis.Itugitgently.“Perhapswe’llkeepthis.”Thoughit’snogoodforwaxplay…“Oh,please,”shepleads.“Hmm,Ilikeitwhenyoubegme,Anastasia.”Shemoans.“Titfortatisnotmyusualstyle,MissSteele,”Iwhisperagainstherflesh.“Butyou’vepleasedme
today,andyoushouldberewarded.”AndIholddownherthighs,openingheruptomytongue,andslowlystartcirclingherclitoris.
Shecriesout,herbodyrisingoffthebed.ButIdon’tstop.Mytongueisruthless.Herlegsstiffen,hertoespointed.Ah,she’sclose,andslowlyIslipmymiddlefingerinsideher.She’swet.Wetandwaiting.“Oh,baby.Ilovethatyou’resowetforme.”Istarttomovemyfingerclockwise,stretchingher.
Mytonguecontinuestotormentherclitoris,overandover.Shestiffensbeneathmeandfinallycriesoutasherorgasmcrashesthroughher.
Yes!Ikneelupandgrabacondom.Onceit’son,slowlyIeasemyselfintoher.Fuck,shefeelsgood.“How’sthis?”Icheck.“Fine.Good.”Hervoiceishoarse.Oh…Istart tomove,revelinginthefeelofheraroundme,beneathme.Againandagain,faster
andfaster,losingmyselfinthiswoman.Iwanthertocomeagain.Iwanthersated.Iwantherhappy.Finally,shestiffensoncemoreandwhimpers.“Comeforme,baby,”Iutterthroughclenchedteeth,andshedetonatesaroundme.“Thankfuck,”Icry,andletgo,findingmyownsweetrelease.BrieflyIcollapseonher,gloryingin
hersoftness.Shemovesherhandssotheyarearoundmyneck,butbecauseshe’stiedshecan’ttouchme.
Takingadeepbreath,Irestmyweightonmyarmsandstaredownatherinwonder.“Seehowgoodweare together?Ifyougiveyourself tome, itwillbesomuchbetter.Trustme,
Anastasia,Icantakeyouplacesyoudon’tevenknowexist.”OurforeheadstouchandIclosemyeyes.Pleasesayyes.Wehearvoicesoutsidethedoor.
Whatthehell?It’sTaylorandGrace.“Shit!It’smymother.”AnacringesasIpulloutofher.Leapingoutofbed,Ithrowthecondominthewastepaperbasket.Whatthehellismymotherdoinghere?Taylorhasdivertedher,thankheaven.Well,she’sabouttogetasurprise.Anaisstillprostrateonthebed.“Comeon,weneedtogetdressed—that’sifyouwanttomeetmy
mother.”IsmileatAnaasIpullonmyjeans.Shelooksadorable.“Christian—Ican’tmove,”sheprotests,butshe’sgrinning,too.Leaningdown,Iundothetieandkissherforehead.Mymotherisgoingtobethrilled.“Anotherfirst,”Iwhisper,unabletoshiftmygrin.“Ihavenocleanclothesinhere.”IsliponawhiteT-shirt,andwhenI turnaroundshe’s sittingup,huggingherknees.“PerhapsI
shouldstayhere.”“Ohnoyoudon’t,”Iwarn.“Youcanwearsomethingofmine.”Ilikeherwearingmyclothes.Herfacefalls.“Anastasia,youcouldbewearingasackandyou’dlooklovely.Pleasedon’tworry.I’dlikeyouto
meetmymother.Get dressed. I’ll just go and calmher down. I’ll expect you in that room in fiveminutes,otherwiseI’llcomeanddragyououtofheremyselfinwhateveryou’rewearing.MyT-shirtsareinthisdrawer.Myshirtsareinthecloset.Helpyourself.”
Hereyeswiden.Yes.I’mserious,baby.Cautioningherwithapointedlook,Iopenthedoorandexittofindmymother.Grace is standing in thecorridoropposite the foyerdoor,andTaylor is talking toher.Her face
lightsupwhensheseesme.“Darling,Ihadnoideayoumighthavecompany,”sheexclaims,andshelooksalittleembarrassed.
“Hello,Mother.”Ikissherprofferedcheek.“I’lldealwithherfromhere,”IsaytoTaylor.“Yes,Mr.Grey.”Henods,lookingexasperated,andheadsbackintohisoffice.“Thankyou,Taylor,”Gracecallsafterhim,thenturnsherfullattentiontome.“Dealwithme?”
shesaysinrebuke.“IwasshoppingdowntownandIthoughtImightpopinforcoffee.”Shestops.“IfI’dknownyouweren’talone…”Sheshrugsinanawkward,girlishway.
Shehasoftenstoppedbyforcoffeeandtherewasawomanhere…shejustneverknew.“She’lljoinusinamoment,”Iadmit,puttingheroutofhermisery.“Doyouwanttositdown?”I
waveinthedirectionofthesofa.“She?”“Yes,Mother.She.”MytoneisdryasItrynottolaugh.Andforonceshe’ssilentasshewanders
throughthelivingroom.“Iseeyou’vehadbreakfast,”sheobserves,eyeingtheunwashedpans.“Wouldyoulikesomecoffee?”“No.Thankyou,darling.”Shesitsdown.“I’llmeetyour…friendandthenI’llgo.Idon’twantto
interruptyou.Ihadafeelingthatyou’dbeslavingawayinyourstudy.Youworktoohard,darling.IthoughtImightdragyouaway.”ShelooksalmostapologeticwhenIjoinheronthesofa.
“Don’tworry.”I’mthoroughlyamusedbyherreaction.“Whyaren’tyouatchurchthismorning?”“Carrickhadtowork,sowethoughtwe’dgotoeveningMass.Isupposeit’stoomuchtohopethat
you’llcomewithus.”Iraiseaneyebrowincynicalcontempt.“Mother,youknowthat’snotforme.”GodandIturnedourbacksoneachotheralongtimeago.Shesighs,butthenAnaappears—dressedinherownclothes,standingshylyinthedoorway.The
tensionbetweenmotherandsonisaverted,andIstandinrelief.“Heresheis.”Graceturnsandgetstoherfeet.“Mother,thisisAnastasiaSteele.Anastasia,thisisGraceTrevelyan-Grey.”Theyshakehands.“Whatapleasuretomeetyou,”Gracesayswithalittletoomuchenthusiasmformyliking.“Dr.Trevelyan-Grey,”Anasayspolitely.“CallmeGrace,”shesays,allatonceamiableandinformal.What?Already?Gracecontinues,“I’musuallyDr.Trevelyan,andMrs.Greyismymother-in-law.”Shewinksat
Anaandsitsdown.ImotiontoAnaandpatthecushionbesideme,andshecomesandtakesaseat.“Sohowdidyoutwomeet?”Graceasks.“AnastasiainterviewedmeforthestudentpaperatWSUbecauseI’mconferringthedegreesthere
thisweek.”“Soyou’regraduatingthisweek?”GracebeamsatAna.“Yes.”Ana’scellphonestartsringingandsheexcusesherselftoanswerit.“AndI’llbegivingthecommencementaddress,”IsaytoGrace,butmyattentionisonAna.Whoisit?“Look,José,now’snotagoodtime,”Ihearhersay.Thatfuckingphotographer.Whatdoeshewant?“IleftamessageforElliot,thenfoundouthewasinPortland.Ihaven’tseenhimsincelastweek,”
Graceissaying.Anahangsup.Grace continues as Ana approaches us again, “…and Elliot called to say you were around—I
haven’tseenyoufortwoweeks,darling.”“Didhenow?”Iremark.
Whatdoesthephotographerwant?“Ithoughtwemighthavelunchtogether,butIcanseeyouhaveotherplans,andIdon’twantto
interrupt your day.” Grace stands, and for once I’m grateful that she’s intuitive and can read asituation.Sheoffersmehercheekagain.Ikisshergood-bye.
“IhavetodriveAnastasiabacktoPortland.”“Ofcourse,darling.”Graceturnsherbright—andifI’mnotmistaken,grateful—smileonAna.It’sirritating.“Anastasia, it’s been such a pleasure.”Grace beams and takes Ana’s hand. “I do hopewemeet
again.”“Mrs.Grey?”Taylorappearsonthethresholdoftheroom.“Thankyou,Taylor,”Graceresponds,andheescortsherfromtheroomandthroughthedouble
doorstothefoyer.Well,thatwasinteresting.Mymother’salways thought Iwasgay.Butas she’salways respectedmyboundaries, she’snever
askedme.Well,nowsheknows.Anaisworryingherbottomlip,radiatinganxiety…assheshouldbe.“Sothephotographercalled?”Isoundgruff.“Yes.”“Whatdidhewant?”“Justtoapologize,youknow—forFriday.”“Isee.”Maybehewantsanothershotather.Thethoughtisdispleasing.Taylorclearshisthroat.“Mr.Grey,there’sanissuewiththeDarfurshipment.”Shit.ThisiswhatIgetfornotcheckingmye-mailthismorning.I’vebeentoopreoccupiedwith
Ana.“CharlieTangobackatBoeingField?”IaskTaylor.“Yes,sir.”TayloracknowledgesAnawithanod.“MissSteele.”Shegiveshimabroadsmileandheleaves.“Doeshelivehere?Taylor?”Anaasks.“Yes.”Heading into the kitchen, I pick upmy phone and quickly checkmy e-mail. There’s a flagged
messagefromRosandacoupleoftexts.Icallherimmediately.“Ros,what’stheissue?”“Christian,hi.The reportback fromDarfur isnot good.Theycan’t guarantee the safetyof the
shipments or road crew, and the StateDepartment isn’t willing to sanction the relief without theNGO’sbacking.”
Fuckthis.
“I’mnothavingeithercrewputatrisk.”Rosknowsthis.“Wecouldtryandpullinmercenaries,”shesays.“No,cancel—”“Butthecost,”sheprotests.“We’llair-dropinstead.”“I knew that’s what you’d say, Christian. I have a plan in the works. It will be costly. In the
meantime,thecontainerscangotoRotterdamoutofPhillyandwecantakeitfromthere.That’sit.”“Good.”Ihangup.Moresupport fromtheStateDepartmentwouldbehelpful. I resolve tocall
Blandinotodiscussthisfurther.MyattentionrevertstoMissSteele,who’sstandinginmylivingroom,regardingmewarily.Ineed
togetusbackontrack.Yes.Thecontract.That’sthenextstepinournegotiation.Inmystudy,Igatherthepapersthatareonmydeskandstuffthemintoamanilaenvelope.Ana’snotmovedfromwhereIleftherinthelivingroom.Perhapsshe’sbeenthinkingaboutthe
photographer…mymoodtakesanosedive.“Thisisthecontract.”Iholduptheenvelope.“Readit,andwe’lldiscussitnextweekend.MayI
suggestyoudosomeresearch,soyouknowwhat’sinvolved?”Shelooksfromthemanilaenvelopetome,herfacepale.“That’sifyouagree,andIreallyhopeyoudo,”Iadd.
“Research?”“You’llbeamazedwhatyoucanfindontheInternet.”Shefrowns.“Whatisit?”Iask.“Idon’thaveacomputer.Iusuallyusethecomputersatschool.I’llseeifIcanuseKate’slaptop.”Nocomputer?Howcanastudentnothaveacomputer?Isshethatbroke?Ihandhertheenvelope.
“I’msureIcan,um—lendyouone.Getyourthings,we’lldrivebacktoPortlandandgrabsomelunchontheway.Ineedtodress.”
“I’lljustmakeacall,”shesays,hervoicesoftandhesitant.“Thephotographer?”Isnap.Shelooksguilty.Whatthehell?“Idon’tliketoshare,MissSteele.Rememberthat.”Istormoutoftheroombefore
Isayanythingelse.Isshehunguponhim?Wasshejustusingmetobreakherin?Fuck.Maybeit’sthemoney.That’sadepressingthought…thoughshedoesn’tstrikemeasagolddigger.
Shewasquitevehementaboutmenotbuyingheranyclothing.Iremovemyjeansandputonapairofboxerbriefs.MyBrionitieisonthefloor.Istooptopickitup.
Shetooktobeingtiedupwell…There’shope,Grey.Hope.Istuffthetieandtwoothersintoamessengerbagalongwithsocks,underwear,andcondoms.WhatamIdoing?
DeepdownIknowI’mgoingtostayatTheHeathmanallnextweek…tobenearher.IgatheracoupleofsuitsandshirtsthatTaylorcanbringdownlaterintheweek.I’llneedoneforthegraduationceremony.
Isliponsomecleanjeansandgrabaleatherjacket,andmyphonebuzzes.It’satextfromElliot.
I’mdrivingbacktodayinyourcar.
Hopethatdoesn’tscrewupyourplans.
Itextback.
No.I’mcomingbacktoPortlandnow.LetTaylorknowwhenyouarrive.
IbuzzTaylorthroughtheinternalphonesystem.“Mr.Grey?”“Elliot isbringing theSUVbacksometime thisafternoon.Bring itdowntoPortland tomorrow.
I’mgoingtostayatTheHeathmanuntilthegraduationceremony.I’veleftsomeclothesthatI’dlikeyoutobringdownaswell.”
“Yes,sir.”“AndcallAudi.ImayneedtheA3soonerthanIthought.”“It’sready,Mr.Grey.”“Oh.Good.Thanks.”Sothat’sthecartakencareof;nowit’sthecomputer.IcallBarney,assuminghe’llbeinhisoffice,
andknowinghe’llhaveastate-of-the-artlaptoplyingaround.“Mr.Grey?”heanswers.“Whatareyoudoingintheoffice,Barney?It’sSunday.”“I’mworkingonthetabletdesign.Thesolar-cellissueisbuggingme.”“Youneedahomelife.”Barneyhasthegracetolaugh.“WhatcanIdoforyou,Mr.Grey?”“Doyouhaveanynewlaptops?”“IhavetworightherefromApple.”“Great.Ineedone.”“Surething.”“Canyousetitupwithane-mailaccountforAnastasiaSteele?She’llbetheowner.”“Howareyouspelling‘Steal’?”“S.T.E.E.L.E.”“Cool.”“Great.Andreawillbeintouchtodaytoarrangedelivery.”“Surething,sir.”“Thanks,Barney—andgohome.”“Yes,sir.”
ItextAndreawithinstructionstosendthelaptoptoAna’shomeaddress,thenreturntothelivingroom.Anaissittingonthesofa,fidgetingwithherfingers.Shegivesmeacautiouslookandrises.
“Ready?”Iask.Shenods.Taylorappearsfromhisoffice.“Tomorrow,then,”Itellhim.“Yes,sir.Whichcarareyoutaking,sir?”“TheR8.”“Safe trip,Mr.Grey.Miss Steele,”Taylor says, as he opens the foyer doors for us. Ana fidgets
besidemeaswewaitfortheelevator,herteethonherplumplowerlip.Itremindsmeofherteethonmycock.“Whatisit,Anastasia?”Iask,asIreachoutandpluckherchin.“Stopbitingyourlip,orIwillfuck
youintheelevator,andIdon’tcarewhogetsinwithus,”Igrowl.She’sshocked,Ithink—thoughwhywouldshebeafterallwe’vedone…Mymoodsoftens.“Christian,Ihaveaproblem,”shesays.“Oh?”IntheelevatorIpressthebuttonforthegarage.“W-Well,”shestutters,uncertain.Thenshesquareshershoulders.“IneedtotalktoKate.I’veso
manyquestionsabout sex,andyou’re too involved. Ifyouwantme todoall these things,howdoIknow—?”Shestops,asifweighingherwords.“Ijustdon’thaveanytermsofreference.”
Notthisagain.We’vebeenoverthis.Idon’twanthertalkingtoanyone.She’ssignedanNDA.Butshe’sasked,again.So itmustbe important toher. “Talk toher if youmust.Make sure shedoesn’tmentionanythingtoElliot.”
“Shewouldn’tdothat,andIwouldn’ttellyouanythingshetellsmeaboutElliot—ifsheweretotellmeanything,”sheinsists.
IremindherthatI’mnotinterestedinElliot’ssexlifebutagreethatshecantalkaboutwhatwe’vedonesofar.Herroommatewouldhavemyballsifsheknewmyrealintentions.
“Okay,”Anasays,andgivesmeabrightsmile.“ThesoonerIhaveyoursubmissionthebetter,andwecanstopallthis.”“Stopallwhat?”“You,defyingme.”Ikissherquicklyandherlipsonmineimmediatelymakemefeelbetter.“Nicecar,”shesays,asweapproachtheR8intheundergroundgarage.“Iknow.”Iflashheraquickgrin,andI’mrewardedwithanothersmile—beforesherollshereyes.
Iopenthedoorforher,wonderingifIshouldcommentabouttheeyerolling.“Sowhatsortofcaristhis?”sheasks,whenI’mbehindthewheel.“It’sanAudiR8Spyder.It’salovelyday;wecantakethetopdown.There’sabaseballcapinthere.
Infactthereshouldbetwo.”Istarttheignitionandretracttheroof,andtheBossfillsthecar.“GottaloveBruce.”IgrinatAna
andsteertheR8outofhersafeplaceinthegarage.Weaving inandoutof the trafficonI-5,wehead towardPortland.Ana isquiet, listening to the
musicandstaringoutthewindow.It’sdifficulttoseeherexpression,behindoversizedWayfarersandundermyMarinerscap.ThewindwhistlesoverusaswespeedpastBoeingField.
So far, this weekend has been unexpected. But what did I expect? I thought we’d have dinner,discussthecontract,andthenwhat…?Perhapsfuckingherwasinevitable.
Iglanceacrossather.Yes…AndIwanttofuckheragain.IwishIknewwhatshewasthinking.Shegiveslittleaway,butI’velearnedsomethingsaboutAna.
In spite of her inexperience, she’s willing to learn.Who would have thought that under that shyexteriorshehasthesoulofasiren?AnimageofherlipsaroundmydickcomestomindandIsuppressamoan.
Yeah…she’smorethanwilling.Thethoughtisarousing.IhopeIcanseeherbeforenextweekend.EvennowI’mitchingtotouchheragain.Reachingacross,Iputmyhandonherknee.“Hungry?”“Notparticularly,”sheresponds,subdued.Thisisgettingold.“Youmusteat,Anastasia.IknowagreatplacenearOlympia.We’llstopthere.”
CUISINE SAUVAGE IS SMALL, and crowdedwith couples and families enjoying Sunday brunch.WithAna’shandinmine,wefollowthehostesstoourtable.ThelasttimeIcameherewaswithElena.Iwonderwhatshe’dmakeofAnastasia.
“I’ve not been here for a while.We don’t get a choice—they cook whatever they’ve caught orgathered,”Isay,grimacing,feigningmyhorror.Analaughs.
WhydoIfeeltenfeettallwhenImakeherlaugh?“Twoglassesofthepinotgrigio,”Iorderfromthewaitress,who’smakingeyesatmefrombeneath
blondbangs.It’sannoying.Anascowls.“What?”Iask,wonderingifthewaitressisannoyingher,too.“IwantedaDietCoke.”Whydidn’tyousayso? I frown.“Thepinotgrigiohereisadecentwine.Itwillgowellwiththe
meal,whateverweget.”“Whateverweget?”sheasks,hereyesroundwithalarm.“Yes.”AndIgivehermymegawattsmiletomakeamendsfornotlettingherorderherowndrink.
I’m just not used to asking…“My mother liked you,” I add, hoping this will please her andrememberingGrace’sreactiontoAna.
“Really?”shesays,lookingflattered.“Ohyes.She’salwaysthoughtIwasgay.”“Why?”
“Becauseshe’sneverseenmewithagirl.”“Oh,notevenoneofthefifteen?”“Youremembered.No,noneofthefifteen.”“Oh.”Yes…onlyyou,baby.Thethoughtisunsettling.“Youknow,Anastasia,it’sbeenaweekendoffirstsforme,too.”“Ithas?”“I’veneversleptwithanyone,neverhadsexinmybed,neverflownagirlinCharlieTango,never
introducedawomantomymother.Whatareyoudoingtome?”Yeah.Whatthehellareyoudoingtome?Thisisn’tme.Thewaitressbringsusourchilledwine,andAnaimmediatelytakesaquicksip,herbrighteyeson
me.“I’vereallyenjoyedthisweekend,”shesays,withbashfuldelightinhervoice.Ihave,too,andIrealizeIhaven’tenjoyedaweekendforawhile…sinceSusannahandIpartedways.Itellherso.
“What’svanillasex?”sheasks.Ilaughatherunexpectedquestionandcompletechangeoftopic.“Juststraightforwardsex,Anastasia.Notoys,noadd-ons.”Ishrug.“Youknow—well,actuallyyou
don’t,butthat’swhatitmeans.”“Oh,”shesays,andshelooksalittlecrestfallen.Whatnow?The waitress diverts us, putting down two soup bowls full of greenery. “Nettle soup,” she
announces,andstrutsbackintothekitchen.Weglanceateachother,thenbackatthesoup.Aquicktasteinformsusboththatit’sdelicious.Anagigglesatmyexaggeratedexpressionofrelief.
“That’salovelysound,”Isaysoftly.“Whyhaveyouneverhadvanillasexbefore?Haveyoualwaysdone,whatyou’vedone?”She’sas
inquisitiveasever.“Sort of.”And then Iwonder if I should expandon this.More than anything, Iwanther tobe
forthcomingwithme;Iwanther to trustme. I’mnever thiscandid,but I thinkIcan trusthersoIchoosemywordscarefully.
“Oneofmymother’sfriendsseducedmewhenIwasfifteen.”“Oh.”Ana’sspoonpausesmidwayfromthebowltohermouth.“Shehadveryparticulartastes.Iwashersubmissiveforsixyears.”“Oh,”shebreathes.“SoIdoknowwhatitinvolves,Anastasia.”Morethanyouknow.“Ididn’treallyhavearun-of-the-
millintroductiontosex.”Icouldn’tbetouched.Istillcan’t.Iwait forher reactionbut shecontinueswithher soup,mullingover this tidbitof information.
“Soyouneverdatedanyoneincollege?”sheasks,whenshe’sfinishedherlastspoonful.“No.”Thewaitressinterruptsustoclearouremptybowls.Anawaitsforhertoleave.“Why?”“Doyoureallywanttoknow?”
“Yes.”“Ididn’twantto.ShewasallIwanted,needed.Andbesides,she’dhavebeatentheshitoutofme.”Sheblinksacoupleoftimesassheabsorbsthisnews.“Soifshewasafriendofyourmother’s,how
oldwasshe?”“Oldenoughtoknowbetter.”“Doyoustillseeher?”Shesoundsshocked.“Yes.”“Doyoustill…er—”Sheblushescrimson,hermouthturneddown.“No,” I sayquickly. Idon’twanther tohave thewrong ideaaboutmy relationshipwithElena.
“She’saverygoodfriend,”Ireassureher.“Oh.Doesyourmotherknow?”“Ofcoursenot.”Mymotherwouldkillme—andElena,too.Thewaitressreturnswiththemainentrée:venison.Anatakesalongsipofherwine.“Butitcan’t
havebeenfull-time?”She’signoringherfood.“Well,itwas,thoughIdidn’tseeherallthetime.Itwas…difficult.Afterall,Iwasstillatschool
andthenatcollege.Eatup,Anastasia.”“I’mreallynothungry,Christian,”shesays.Inarrowmyeyes.“Eat.”Ikeepmyvoicelow,asItrytocheckmytemper.“Givemeamoment,”shesays,hertoneasquietasmine.What’sherproblem?Elena?“Okay,”Iagree,wonderingifI’vetoldhertoomuch,andItakeabiteofmyvenison.Finally,shepicksuphercutleryandstartseating.Good.“Is this what our, um…relationship will be like?” she asks. “You ordering me around?” She
scrutinizestheplateoffoodinfrontofher.“Yes.”“Isee.”Shetossesherponytailoverhershoulder.“Andwhat’smore,you’llwantmeto.”“It’sabigstep,”shesays.“Itis.”Iclosemyeyes.Iwanttodothiswithher,nowmorethanever.WhatcanIsaytoconvince
hertogiveourarrangementatry?“Anastasia,youhavetogowithyourgut.Dotheresearch,readthecontract.I’mhappytodiscuss
anyaspect.I’llbeinPortlanduntilFridayifyouwanttotalkaboutitbeforethen.Callme—maybewe can have dinner—say,Wednesday? I really want tomake this work. In fact, I’ve never wantedanythingasmuchasIwantthis.”
Whoa.Bigspeech,Grey.Didyoujustaskheronadate?“Whathappenedtothefifteen?”sheasks.
“Variousthings,butitboilsdowntoincompatibility.”“AndyouthinkthatImightbecompatiblewithyou?”“Yes.”Ihopeso…“Soyou’renotseeinganyofthemanymore?”“No,Anastasia,I’mnot.Iammonogamousinmyrelationships.”“Isee.”“Dotheresearch,Anastasia.”Sheputsherknifeandforkdown,signalingthatshe’sfinishedhermeal.“That’sit?That’sallyou’regoingtoeat?”Shenods,placingherhands inher lap, andhermouth sets in thatmulishway shehas…and I
knowitwillbeafighttopersuadehertocleanherplate.Nowondershe’ssoslim.Hereatingissueswillbesomethingtoworkon,ifsheagreestobemine.AsIcontinuetoeat,hereyesdarttomeeveryfewsecondsandaslowflushstainshercheeks.
Oh,what’sthis?“I’dgiveanythingtoknowwhatyou’rethinkingrightatthismoment.”She’sclearlythinkingabout
sex.“Icanguess,”Itease.“I’mgladyoucan’treadmymind.”“Yourmind,no,Anastasia,butyourbody—thatI’vegottentoknowquitewellsinceyesterday.”I
giveherawolfishgrinandaskforthecheck.Whenweleave,herhandisfirmlyinmine.She’squiet—deepinthought,itseems—andremains
soallthewaytoVancouver.I’vegivenheragreatdealtothinkabout.Butshe’salsogivenmeagreatdealtothinkabout.Willshewanttodothiswithme?Damn,Ihopeso.It’sstilllightwhenwearriveatherhome,butthesunissinkingtothehorizonandshiningpink
andpearllightonMountSt.Helens.AnaandKateliveinascenicspotwithanamazingview.“Doyouwanttocomein?”sheasks,afterI’veswitchedofftheengine.“No. I have work to do.” I know that if I accept her invitation I’ll be crossing a line I’m not
preparedtocross.I’mnotboyfriendmaterial—andIdon’twanttogiveheranyfalseexpectationsofthekindofrelationshipshe’llhavewithme.
Herfacefallsand,deflated,shelooksaway.Shedoesn’twantmetogo.It’shumbling.Reachingacross,Igraspherhandandkissherknuckles,hopingtotakethestingout
ofmyrejection.“Thank you for this weekend, Anastasia. It’s been…the best.” She turns shining eyes to me.
“Wednesday?”Icontinue.“I’llpickyouupfromwork,fromwherever?”“Wednesday,”shesays,andthehopeinhervoiceisdisconcerting.Shit.It’snotadate.
Ikissherhandagainandclimboutofthecartoopenherdoor.IhavetogetoutofherebeforeIdosomethingI’llregret.
When she gets out of the car, she brightens, at odds with how she looked amoment ago. Shemarchesuptoherfrontdoorbutbeforereachingthestepssheturnssuddenly.“Oh,bytheway,I’mwearingyourunderwear,”shesaysintriumph,andsheyanksthewaistbandupsoIcanseethewords“Polo”and“Ralph”peekingoverherjeans.
She’sstolenmyunderwear!I’mstunned.AndinthatinstantIwantnothingmorethantoseeherinmyboxerbriefs…andonly
them.Shetossesbackherhairandswaggersintoherapartment,leavingmestandingonthecurb,staring
likeafool.Shakingmyhead,Iclimbbackintothecar,andasIstarttheengineIcannothelpmyshit-eating
grin.Ihopeshesaysyes.
IFINISHMYWORKandtakeasipofthefineSancerre,deliveredfromroomservicebythewomanwithdark, dark eyes. Trawling throughmy e-mails and answering where required has been a welcomedistractionfromthoughtsofAnastasia.AndnowI’mpleasantlytired.Isitthefivehoursofwork?Orallthesexualactivitylastnightandthismorning?MemoriesofthedelectableMissSteeleinvademymind:inCharlieTango,inmybed,inmybath,dancingaroundmykitchen.AndtothinkitallstartedhereonFriday…andnowshe’sconsideringmyproposal.
Hasshereadthecontract?Isshedoingherhomework?Icheckmyphoneonceagainforatextoramissedcallbut,ofcourse,there’snothing.Willsheagree?Ihopeso…Andrea has sent me Ana’s new e-mail address and assured me the laptop will be delivered
tomorrowmorning.Withthatinmind,Itypeoutane-mail.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YourNewComputer
Date:May22201123:15
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Itrustyousleptwell.Ihopethatyouputthislaptoptogooduse,asdiscussed.
IlookforwardtodinnerWednesday.
Happytoansweranyquestionsbeforethen,viae-mail,shouldyousodesire.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
The e-mail doesn’t bounce, so the address is live. Iwonder howAnawill react in themorningwhenshereadsit.Ihopeshelikesthelaptop.GuessI’llknowtomorrow.Pickingupmylatestread,Isettle onto the sofa. It’s a bookby two renownedeconomistswho examinewhy thepoor think andbehavethewaytheydo.Animageofayoungwomanbrushingoutherlong,darkhaircomestomind;herhairshinesinthelightfromthecracked,yellowedwindow,andtheairisfilledwithdancingdustmotes.She’ssingingsoftly,likeachild.
Ishudder.Don’tgothere,Grey.Iopenthebookandstarttoread.
MONDAY,MAY23,2011
It’s after one in themorning when I go to bed. Staring at the ceiling, I’m tired, relaxed, but alsoexcited,anticipatingwhattheweekwillbring.Ihopetohaveanewproject:MissAnastasiaSteele.
MYFEETPOUNDTHEsidewalkonMainStreetasIruntowardtheriver.It’s6:35inthemorningandthesun’sraysareshimmeringthroughthehigh-risebuildings.Thesidewalktreesarenewlygreenwithspring leaves; the air is clean, the traffic quiet. I’ve slept well. “O Fortuna” fromOrff’sCarminaBuranaisblaringinmyears.Todaythestreetsarepavedwithpossibility.
Willsherespondtomye-mail?It’stooearly,fartooearlyforanyresponse,butfeelinglighterthanIhaveforweeks,Irunpastthe
statueoftheelkandtowardtheWillamette.
BY7:45 I’M IN frontofmy laptop,having showeredandorderedbreakfast. I e-mailAndrea to letherknowI’llbeworkingfromPortlandfortheweekandtoaskhertorescheduleanymeetingssothattheycan take place by phone or videoconference. I e-mailGail to let her know I won’t be home untilThursday evening at the earliest. Then I work through my inbox and find among other things aproposalforajointventurewithashipyardinTaiwan.IforwardittoRostoaddtotheagendaofitemsweneedtodiscuss.
Then I turn tomyotheroutstandingmatter:Elena.She’s textedmeacoupleof timesover theweekendandI’venotreplied.
From:ChristianGreySubject:TheWeekend
Date:May23201108:15
To:ElenaLincoln
Goodmorning,Elena.
Sorrynottogetbacktoyou.I’vebeenbusyallweekend,andI’llbeinPortlandallthisweek.Idon’tknowabout
nextweekend,either,butifI’mfree,I’llletyouknow.
Latestresultsforthebeautybusinesslookpromising.
Goodgoing,Ma’am…
Best
C
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ipresssend,wonderingagainwhatElenawouldmakeofAna…andviceversa.There’sapingfrommylaptopasanewe-mailarrives.
It’sfromAna.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:YourNewComputer(onloan)
Date:May23201108:20
To:ChristianGrey
Isleptverywell,thankyou—forsomestrangereason—Sir.
Iunderstoodthatthiscomputerwasonloan,ergonotmine.
Ana
“Sir”withacapitalS;thegirlhasbeenreading,andpossiblyresearching.Andshe’sstilltalkingtome. Igrin stupidlyat thee-mail.This isgoodnews.Thoughshe isalso tellingme that shedoesn’twantthecomputer.
Well,that’sfrustrating.Ishakemyhead,amused.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YourNewComputer(onloan)
Date:May23201108:22
To:AnastasiaSteele
Thecomputerisonloan.Indefinitely,MissSteele.
InotefromyourtonethatyouhavereadthedocumentationIgaveyou.
Doyouhaveanyquestionssofar?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ihitsend.Howlongwill itbebeforesheresponds?Iresumereadingmye-mailasadistractionwhileIwaitforherreply.There’sanexecutivesummaryfromFred,theheadofmytelecomdivision,aboutthedevelopmentofoursolar-poweredtablet—oneofmypetprojects.It’sambitiousbutfewofmybusiness venturesmattermore than this one and I’m excited about it.Bringing affordable firstworldtechnologytothethirdworldissomethingI’mdeterminedtodo.
There’sapingfrommycomputer.Anothere-mailfromMissSteele.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:InquiringMinds
Date:May23201108:25
To:ChristianGrey
Ihavemanyquestions,butnotsuitablefore-mail,andsomeofushavetoworkforaliving.
Idonotwantorneedacomputerindefinitely.
Untillater,goodday.Sir.
Ana
Thetoneofhere-mailmakesmesmile,butitseemsshe’sofftowork,sothismightbethelastoneforawhile.Herreluctancetoacceptthedamnedcomputerisannoying.ButIsupposeitshowsshe’snotacquisitive.She’snogolddigger—rareamongthewomenI’veknown…yetLeilawasthesame.
“Sir,Iamnotdeservingofthisbeautifuldress.”“Youare.Takeit.AndI’llnothearanotherwordonthis.Understand?”“Yes,Master.”“Good.Andthestylewillsuityou.”
Ah,Leila. Shewas a good submissive, but she became too attached and Iwas thewrongman.Fortunately,thatwasn’tforlong.She’smarriednowandhappy.IturnmyattentionbacktoAna’se-mailandreread.
“Someofushavetoworkforaliving.”ThesassywenchisimplyingIdon’tdoanywork.Welltohellwiththat!IspyFred’sratherdrysummaryreportopenonmydesktopanddecidetoset therecordstraight
withAna.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YourNewComputer(againonloan)
Date:May23201108:26
To:AnastasiaSteele
Laters,baby.
P.S.:Iworkforaliving,too.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ifinditimpossibletoconcentrateonmywork,waitingforthetelltalepingtoannounceanewe-
mailfromAna.Whenitcomes,Ilookupimmediately—butit’sfromElena.AndI’msurprisedbymydisappointment.
From:ElenaLincolnSubject:TheWeekend
Date:May23201108:33
To:ChristianGrey
Christian,youworktoohard.What’sinPortland?Work?
Ex
ELENALINCOLN
ESCLAVAForTheBeautyThatIsYou™
Do I tell her? If I do, she’ll call immediatelywith questions, and I’mnot ready to divulgemyweekendexperiencesyet.Itypeheraquicke-mailsayingit’swork,andgetbacktomyreading.
Andreacallsmeatnineandwerunthroughmyschedule.AsI’minPortland,IaskhertosetupameetingwiththepresidentandtheAVPofeconomicdevelopmentatWSU,todiscussthesoilscienceprojectwe’vesetupandtheirneedforadditionalfundinginthenextfiscalyear.Sheagreestocancelallmysocialengagementsthisweek,andthenconnectsmethroughtomyfirstvideoconferenceoftheday.
AT3:00I’MPORINGoversometabletdesignschematicsthatBarneyhassentmewhenI’mdisturbedbyaknockatmydoor.TheinterruptionisannoyingbutforamomentIhopethatit’sMissSteele.It’sTaylor.
“Hello.”Ihopemyvoicedoesn’trevealmydisappointment.“Ihaveyourclothes,Mr.Grey,”hesayspolitely.“Comein.Canyouhangtheminthecloset?I’mexpectingmynextconferencecall.”“Certainly,sir.”Hehurriesintothebedroom,carryingacoupleofsuitbagsandaduffel.WhenhereturnsI’mstillwaitingformycall.“Taylor,Idon’tthinkI’mgoingtoneedyouforthenextcoupleofdays.Whydon’tyoutakethe
timetoseeyourdaughter?”“That’sverygoodofyou,sir,buthermotherandI—”Hestops,embarrassed.“Ah.Likethat,isit?”Iask.Henods.“Yes,sir.Itwilltakesomenegotiating.”“Okay.WouldWednesdaybebetter?”“I’llask.Thankyou,sir.”“AnythingIcandotohelp?”“Youdoenough,sir.”
Hedoesn’twanttotalkaboutthis.“Okay.IthinkI’mgoingtoneedaprinter—canyouarrangeit?”“Yes, sir.”Henods.Ashe leaves,closing thedoorsoftlybehindhim,I frown.Ihopehisex-wife
isn’tgivinghimgrief. Ipay forhisdaughter’s schoolingasanother incentive forhim to stay inmyemployment;he’sagoodman,andIdon’twanttolosehim.Thephonerings—it’smyconferencecallwithRosandSenatorBlandino.
MYLASTCALLWRAPSupat5:20.Stretchinginmychair,IthinkabouthowproductiveI’vebeentoday.It’samazinghowmuchmoreIgetdonewhenI’mnotintheoffice.OnlyacoupleofreportstoreadandI’mfinishedfortheday.AsIlookoutthewindowattheearly-eveningsky,mymindstraystoacertainpotentialsubmissive.
IwonderhowherdayatClayton’shasbeen,pricingcabletiesandmeasuringoutlengthsofrope.Ihope one day I’ll get to use them on her. The thought conjures images of her tethered in myplayroom.Idwellonthisforamoment…thenquicklysendherane-mail.Allthiswaiting,working,ande-mailingismakingmerestless.IknowhowI’dliketoreleasethispent-upenergy,butIhavetosettleforarun.
From:ChristianGreySubject:WorkingforaLiving
Date:May23201117:24
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Idohopeyouhadagooddayatwork.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ichangebackintomyrunninggear.Taylorhasbroughtmetwomorepairsofsweatpants.I’msurethat’sGail’sdoing.AsIheadtowardthedoorIcheckmye-mail.She’sreplied.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:WorkingforaLiving
Date:May23201117:48
To:ChristianGrey
Sir…Ihadaverygooddayatwork.
Thankyou.
Ana
Butshehasn’tdoneherhomework.Ie-mailherback.
From:ChristianGreySubject:DotheWork!
Date:May23201117:50
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele,
Delightedyouhadagoodday.
Whileyouaree-mailing,youarenotresearching.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Andratherthanleavetheroom,Iwaitforherreply.Shedoesn’tkeepmewaitinglong.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:NuisanceDate:May23201117:53
To:ChristianGrey
Mr.Grey,stope-mailingme,andIcanstartmyassignment.
I’dlikeanotherA.
Ana
I laugh out loud.Yes. That A was something else. Closingmy eyes, I see and feel hermoutharoundmycockoncemore.
Fuck.Bringingmyerrantbodytoheel,Ipresssendonmyreply,andwait.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Impatient
Date:May23201117:55
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele,
Stope-mailingme—anddoyourassignment.
I’dliketoawardanotherA.
Thefirstonewassowelldeserved.;)
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Herresponseisnotasimmediate,andfeelingalittlecrestfallen,Iturnawayanddecidetogoonmyrun.ButasIopenthedoorthepingfrommyinboxpullsmeback.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:InternetResearchDate:May23201117:59
To:ChristianGrey
Mr.Grey,
WhatwouldyousuggestIputintoasearchengine?
Ana
Shit!Whydidn’tIthinkaboutthis?Icouldhavegivenhersomebooks.Numerouswebsitesspringtomind—butIdon’twanttofrightenheroff.
Perhapssheshouldstartwiththemostvanilla…
From:ChristianGreySubject:InternetResearchDate:May23201118:02
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele,
AlwaysstartwithWikipedia.
Nomoree-mailsunlessyouhavequestions.
Understood?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Igetupfrommydesk,thinkingshewon’trespond,butasusualshesurprisesmeanddoes.Ican’tresist.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Bossy!Date:May23201118:04
To:ChristianGrey
Yes…Sir.
Youaresobossy.
Ana
Damnedright,baby.
From:ChristianGreySubject:InControlDate:May23201118:06
To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,youhavenoidea.
Well,maybeaninklingnow.
Dothework.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Show some restraint, Grey. Before she can distract me again, I’m out the door. With the FooFightersblaringinmyearsIruntotheriver;I’veseentheWillametteatdawn,nowIwanttoseeitatdusk. It’s a fine evening: couples arewalking by the riverside, some sitting on the grass, and a fewtouristsarecyclingupanddowntheconcourse.Iavoidthem,themusicblastinginmyears.
MissSteelehasquestions.Sheisstill inthegame—thisisnota“no.”Oure-mailexchangehasgivenmehope.AsIrunundertheHawthorneBridgeIreflectonhowateasesheiswiththewrittenword,moresothanwhenshe’sspeaking.Maybethisisherpreferredmediumofexpression.Well,shehasbeenstudyingEnglishliterature.I’mhopingthatbythetimeIgetbackthere’llbeanothere-mail,maybewithquestions,maybewithsomemoreofhersassybanter.
Yeah.That’ssomethingtolookforwardto.As I sprint downMain Street I dare to hope that she’ll acceptmy proposition. The thought is
exciting,invigoratingeven,andIpickupmypace,sprintingbacktoTheHeathman.
IT’S8:15WHENIsitbackinmydiningchair.I’veeatenthewildOregonsalmonfordinner,courtesyofMissDark,DarkEyesagain,andIstillhavehalfaglassofSancerretofinish.Mylaptopisopenandpoweredup, should any important e-mails arrive. I pickup the report that I’ve printed out, on thebrownfieldsitesinDetroit.“ItwouldhavetobeDetroit,”Igrumbleoutloud,andstarttoread.
Afewminuteslater,Ihearaping.It’sane-mailwith“ShockedofWSUV”writteninthesubjectline.Theheadingmakesmesitup.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:ShockedofWSUV
Date:May23201120:33
To:ChristianGrey
Okay,I’veseenenough.
Itwasniceknowingyou.
Ana
Shit!Ireaditagain.Fuck.It’sa“no.”Istareatthescreenindisbelief.That’sit?Nodiscussion?Nothing.Just“Itwasniceknowingyou”?What.The.Fuck.Isitbackinmychair,dumbfounded.Nice?Nice.NICE.Shethoughtitwasmorethannicewhenherheadwasthrownbackasshecame.Don’tbesohasty,Grey.Maybeit’sajoke?Somejoke!Ipullmylaptoptowardmetowriteareply.
From:ChristianGreySubject:NICE?Date:May232011
To:AnastasiaSteele
ButasIstareatthescreen,myfingershoveringoverthekeys,Ican’tthinkofwhattosay.Howcouldshedismissmesoeasily?Herfirstfuck.Getittogether,Grey.Whatareyouroptions?MaybeIshouldpayheravisit,justtomakesureit’sa
“no.”MaybeIcanpersuadeherotherwise.Icertainlydon’tknowwhattosaytothise-mail.Perhapsshe’slookedatsomeparticularlyhardcoresites.Whydidn’tIgiveherafewbooks?Idon’tbelievethis.Sheneedstolookmeintheeyeandsayno.
Yep.IrubmychinasIformulateaplan,andmomentslaterI’minmycloset,retrievingmytie.Thattie.Thisdeal isn’tdeadyet.Frommymessengerbag I take somecondomsand slide them into the
backpocketofmypants,thengrabmyjacketandabottleofwhitewinefromtheminibar.Damn,it’sachardonnay—butitwillhavetodo.Snatchingmyroomkey,Iclosethedoorandheadtowardthe
elevatortocollectmycarfromthevalet.
ASIPULLUPintheR8outsidetheapartmentsheshareswithKavanagh,Iwonderifthisisawisemove.I’ve never visited any of my previous submissives at their homes—they always came to me. I’mpushingalltheboundariesthatI’vesetformyself.Openingthedoorofthecarandclimbingout,I’muneasy; it’s reckless and toopresumptuousofme tocomehere.Thenagain, I’vealreadybeenheretwice, though for only a fewminutes. If shedoes agree, I’ll have tomanageher expectations.Thiswon’thappenagain.
Gettingaheadofyourself,Grey.You’reherebecauseyouthinkit’sa“no.”KavanaghanswerswhenIknockatthedoor.She’ssurprisedtoseeme.“Hi,Christian.Anadidn’t
sayyouwerecomingover.”Shestandsasidetoletmeenter.“She’sinherroom.I’llcallher.”“No.I’dliketosurpriseher.”Igivehermymostearnestandendearinglookandinresponseshe
blinksacoupleof times.Whoa.Thatwaseasy.Whowouldhavethought?Howgratifying.“Where’sherroom?”
“Throughthere,thefirstdoor.”Shepointstoadoorofftheemptylivingroom.“Thanks.”Leavingmy jacket and thechilledwineononeof thepackingcrates, Iopen thedoor to finda
smallhallwaywithacoupleofroomsoffit.Iassumeoneisabathroom,soIknockontheotherdoor.Afterabeat,Iopenitandthere’sAna,sittingatasmalldesk,readingwhatlookslikethecontract.Shehasherearbudsinassheidlydrumsherfingerstoanunheardbeat.Standingthereforamoment,Iwatch her. Her face is scrunched in concentration; her hair is braided and she’s wearing sweats.Perhaps she’s been for a run this evening…perhaps she’s suffering from excess energy, too. Thethought is pleasing. Her room is small, neat, and girlish: all whites, creams, and baby blues, andbathedinthesoftglowofherbedsidelamp.It’salsoa littleempty,butIspyaclosedpackingcratewith Ana’s room scrawled on the top. At least she has a double bed—with a white wrought-ironbedstead.Yes.Thathaspossibilities.
Anasuddenlyjumps,startledbymypresence.Yes.I’mherebecauseofyoure-mail.Shepullsoutherearbudsandthesoundoftinnymusicfillsthesilencebetweenus.“Goodevening,Anastasia.”Shestaresatmedumbfounded,hereyeswidening.“I felt thatyoure-mailwarranteda reply inperson.” I try tokeepmyvoiceneutral.Hermouth
opensandcloses,butsheremainsmute.MissSteeleisspeechless.ThisIlike.“MayIsit?”Shenods,continuingtostareindisbeliefasIperchonherbed.“Iwonderedwhatyourbedroomwouldlooklike,”Iofferasanicebreaker,thoughchitchatisnot
myareaofexpertise.Shescansherroomasifseeingitforthefirsttime.“It’sverysereneandpeacefulinhere,”Iadd,thoughIfeelanythingbutsereneorpeacefulrightnow.Iwanttoknowwhyshe’ssaidnotomyproposalwithnodiscussionwhatsoever.
“How…?”shewhispers,butshestops,herdisbeliefstillevidentinherquiettone.“I’mstillatTheHeathman.”Sheknowsthis.“Wouldyoulikeadrink?”shesqueaks.“Nothankyou,Anastasia.”Good.She’sfoundhermanners.ButIwanttogetonwiththebusiness
athand:heralarminge-mail.“So, itwasnice knowingme?” Iemphasize theword thatoffendsmemostinthatsentence.
Nice?Really?Sheexaminesherhands inher lap,her fingersnervously tappingagainsther thighs. “I thought
you’dreplybye-mail,”shesays,hervoiceassmallasherroom.“Areyoubitingyourlowerlipdeliberately?”Iinquire,myvoicesternerthanI’dintended.“Iwasn’tawareIwasbitingmylip,”shewhispers,herfacepale.Wegazeateachother.Andtheairalmostcracklesbetweenus.Fuck.Can’tyoufeelthis,Ana?Thistension.Thisattraction.MybreathingshallowsasIwatchherpupils
dilate.Slowly,deliberately,Ireachforherhairandgentlytugontheelastic,freeingoneofherbraids.Shewatchesme,captivated,hereyesneverleavingmine.Iloosenhersecondbraid.
“Soyoudecidedonsomeexercise?”Myfingerstracethesoftshellofherear.Withgreatcare,Itugandsqueezetheplumpskinofherearlobe.She’snotwearingearrings,thoughshedoeshavepiercedears.Iwonderwhatadiamondwouldlookliketwinklingthere.Iaskherwhyshe’sbeenexercising,keepingmyvoicelow.Herbreathingquickens.
“Ineededtimetothink,”shesays.“Thinkaboutwhat,Anastasia?”“You.”“Andyoudecidedthatitwasniceknowingme?Doyoumeanknowingmeinthebiblicalsense?”Hercheekspink.“Ididn’tthinkyouwerefamiliarwiththeBible.”“IwenttoSundayschool,Anastasia.Ittaughtmeagreatdeal.”Catechism.Guilt.AndthatGodabandonedmelongago.“I don’t remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a
moderntranslation,”shegoadsme,hereyesshiningandprovocative.Oh,thatsmartmouth.“Well,I thoughtIshouldcomeandremindyouhownice itwasknowingme.”Thechallengeis
thereinmyvoice,andnowbetweenus.Hermouthdropsopeninsurprise,butIglidemyfingerstoherchinandcoax it closed. “Whatdo you say to that,MissSteele?” Iwhisper, aswe stare at eachother.
Suddenlyshelaunchesherselfatme.Shit.SomehowIgrabherarmsbeforeshecantouchme,andtwistsothatshelandsonthebed,beneath
me,andIhaveherarmsstretchedoutaboveherhead.Turningherfacetomine,Ikissher,hard,my
tongue exploring and reclaiming her.Her body rises in response as she kissesme backwith equalardor.
Oh,Ana.Whatyoudotome.Onceshe’ssquirmingformore,Istopandgazedownather.It’stimeforplanB.“Trustme?”Iask,whenhereyelidsflutteropen.Shenodsenthusiastically.FromthebackpocketofmypantsIextractthetiesoshecanseeit,then
sit astride her and, taking both of her offered wrists, bind her to one of the iron spindles of herbedstead.
Shewrigglesbeneathme, testingherbindings,but the tieholds fast.She’snotescaping.“That’sbetter.”IsmilewithreliefbecauseIhaveherwhereIwanther.Nowtoundressher.
Grabbingherrightfoot,Istarttoundohersneakers.“No,”shegrumbleswithembarrassment,tryingtowithdrawherfoot,andIknowit’sbecauseshe’s
beenrunningandshedoesn’twantmetoremovehershoes.Doesshethinkperspirationwouldputmeoff?
Sweetheart!“Ifyoustruggle,I’ll tieyourfeet,too.Ifyoumakeanoise,Anastasia,Iwillgagyou.Keepquiet.
Katherineisprobablyoutsidelisteningrightnow.”She stops. And I know thatmy instincts are right. She’sworried about her feet.Whenwill she
understandthatnoneofthatstuffbothersme?QuicklyIremovehershoes,socks,andsweatpants.Thenshifthersoshe’sstretchedoutandlying
onhersheets,andnotthatdainty,homemadequilt.We’regoingtomakeamess.Stopbitingthatfuckinglip.Ibrushmyfingeroverhermouthasacarnalwarning.Shepursesherlipsinthesemblanceofa
kiss,promptingmysmile.She’sabeautiful,sensualcreature.Nowthatshe’swhereIwanther,Itakemyshoesandsocksoff,undothetopbuttonofmypants,
andremovemyshirt.Shedoesn’ttakehereyesoffme.“Ithinkyou’veseentoomuch.”Iwanttokeepherguessing,andnotknowingwhat’scomingnext.
Itwillbeacarnaltreat.I’venotblindfoldedherbefore,sothiswillcounttowardhertraining.That’sifshesaysyes…
Sittingastrideheroncemore,IgrabthehemofherT-shirtandrollitupherbody.Butratherthantakingitoff,Ileaveitrolledoverhereyes:aneffectiveblindfold.
Shelooksfantastic,laidoutandbound.“Mmm,thisjustgetsbetterandbetter.I’mgoingtogetadrink,”Iwhisper,andkissher.ShegaspsasIclimboff thebed.Outsideherroom,Ileaveherdoorslightlyajarandenterthelivingroomtoretrievethebottleofwine.
Kavanaghlooksupfromwhereshe’ssittingonthesofa,reading,andhereyebrowsriseinsurprise.Don’t tellmeyou’venever seena shirtlessman,Kavanagh,because Iwon’tbelieveyou. “Kate,wherewouldIfindglasses,ice,andacorkscrew?”Iask,ignoringherscandalizedexpression.
“Um.Inthekitchen.I’llgetthemforyou.Where’sAna?”Ah,someconcernforherfriend.Good.“She’salittletiedupatthemoment,butshewantsadrink.”Igrabthebottleofchardonnay.
“Oh,Isee,”Kavanaghsays,andIfollowherintothekitchen,whereshepointstosomeglassesonthecounter.Alltheglassesareout,Iassumetobepackedfortheirmove.Shehandsmeacorkscrewandfromthefridgesheremovesatrayoficeandbreaksouttheicecubes.
“Westillhavetopackinhere.YouknowElliotishelpingusmove.”Hertoneiscritical.“Ishe?”IsounduninterestedasIopenthewine.“Justputtheiceintheglasses.”WithmychinI
indicatetwoglasses.“It’sachardonnay.It’llbemoredrinkablewiththeice.”“Ifiguredyouforared-winekindofguy,”shesays,whenIpourthewine.“Areyougoingtocome
andhelpAnawiththemove?”Hereyesflash.She’schallengingme.Shutherdownnow,Grey.“No.Ican’t.”Myvoiceisclipped,becauseshe’spissingmeoff,tryingtomakemefeelguilty.Her
lipsthin,andIturnaroundtoleavethekitchen,butnotbeforeIcatchthedisapprovalinherface.Fuckoff,Kavanagh.NowayamIgoingtohelp.AnaandIdon’thavethatkindofrelationship.Besides,Ican’tspare
thetime.I return to Ana’s room and shut the door behindme, blotting out Kavanagh and her disdain.
ImmediatelyI’mappeasedbythesightof theenchantingAnaSteele,breathlessandwaiting,onherbed.Setting thewinedownonherbedside table, I take the foilpacketoutofmypantsandplace itbesidethewine,thendropmypantsandunderwearonthefloor,freeingmyerection.
Itakeasipofwine—surprisingly,it’snotbad—andgazedownatAna.Shehasn’tsaidaword.Herface is turned towardme, her lips partedwith anticipation.Taking the glass, I sit astride her oncemore.“Areyouthirsty,Anastasia?”
“Yes,”shewhispers.Takingasipofwine,Ileandownandkissher,pouringthewineintohermouth.Shelapsitup,
anddeepinherthroatIhearafainthumofappreciation.“More?”Iask.Shenods,smiling,andIoblige.“Let’s not go too far;we know your capacity for alcohol is limited, Anastasia,” I tease, andher
mouthsplitsinthewidestofgrins.Leaningdown,Iletherhaveanotherdrinkfrommymouth,andshewrigglesbeneathme.
“Isthisnice?”Iask,asIlaydownbesideher.Shestills,allseriousnessnow,butherlipspartassheinhalessharply.Itakeanotherswigofwine,thistimewithtwoicecubes.WhenIkissher,Ipushasmallshardof
icebetweenherlips,thenlayatrailoficykissesdownhersweet-smellingskinfromherthroattohernavel.There,Iplacetheothershard,andalittlewine.
Shesucksinabreath.“Nowyouhavetokeepstill.Ifyoumove,Anastasia,you’llgetwinealloverthebed.”Myvoiceis
low, and I kissher again just abovehernavel.Herhips shift. “Ohno. If you spill thewine, Iwillpunishyou,MissSteele.”
Shemoansinresponseandpullsatthetie.Allgoodthings,Ana…
Ireleaseeachofherbreastsfromherbrasothey’resupportedbytheunderwirecups;herbreastsarepertandvulnerable,justhowIlikethem.SlowlyIteasethembothwithmylips.
“Howniceisthis?”Iwhisper,andblowgentlyononenipple.Hermouthslackensinasilent“Ah.”Takinganotherpieceoficeinmymouth,Islowlytracedownhersternumtohernipple,circlingacoupleoftimeswiththeice.Shemoansbeneathme.Transferringtheicetomyfingers,Icontinuetotortureeachnipplewithcoollipsandtheremainingicecubethat’smeltinginmyfingers.
Whiningandpantingbeneathme,she’stensingbutmanagingtostaystill.“Ifyouspillthewine,Iwon’tletyoucome,”Iwarn.
“Oh.Please.Christian.Sir.Please,”shebegs.Oh,tohearherusethosewords.There’shope.Thisisnota“no.”I skimmy fingers over her body toward her panties, teasing her soft skin. Suddenly her pelvis
flexes,spillingthewineandthenow-meltedicefromhernavel.Imovequicklytolapitup,kissingandsuckingitoffherbody.
“Ohdear,Anastasia,youmoved.WhatamIgoingtodotoyou?”IslipmyfingersintoherpantiesandbrushherclitorisasIdo.
“Ah!”shewhines.“Oh,baby,”Iwhisperwithreverence.She’swet.Verywet.See.Seehownicethisis?Ipushmyindexandmiddlefingerinsideherandshetrembles.“Readyformesosoon,”Imurmur,andpushmyfingersslowlyinandoutofher,elicitingalong
sweetmoan.Herpelvisstartsliftingtomeetmyfingers.Oh,shewantsthis.“Youareagreedygirl.”Myvoice is still lowandshematches thepaceI’msettingas Ibegin to
circleherclitoriswithmythumb,teasingandtormentingher.Shecriesout,herbodybuckingbeneathme.Iwanttoseeherexpression,andreachingupwithmy
otherhand,IslipherT-shirtoffherhead.Sheopenshereyes,blinkinginthesoftlight.“Iwanttotouchyou,”shesays,hervoicehuskyandfullofneed.“Iknow,”Ibreatheagainsther lips,andkissher,all thewhilekeepinguptherelentless rhythm
withmy fingers and thumb. She tastes of wine and need andAna. And she kissesme backwith ahungerI’venotfeltinherbefore.Icradlethetopofherhead,keepingherinplace,andcontinuetokissandfinger-fuckher.Asherlegsstiffen,Idropthepaceofmyhand.
Oh,no,baby.You’renotcomingyet.Idothisthreemoretimeswhilekissingherwarm,sweetmouth.ThefifthtimeIstillmyfingers
insideher,andIhumsoftandslowinherear,“Thisisyourpunishment,socloseandyetsofar.Isthisnice?”
“Please,”shewhimpers.God,Ilovetohearherbeg.
“HowshallIfuckyou,Anastasia?”Myfingersstartagainandherlegsbegintoquiver,andIgentlemyhandoncemore.“Please,”shebreathesagain,thewordsolowIbarelyhearher.“Whatdoyouwant,Anastasia?”“You…now,”shepleads.“Shall I fuck you this way, or this way, or this way? There’s an endless choice,” I murmur.
Withdrawingmyhand, I snatch thecondomfromthebedside tableandkneelupbetweenher legs.Keepingmyeyesonhers,Ipullherpantiesoffanddiscardthemonthefloor.Hereyesaredark,fullofpromiseandlonging.TheywidenasIslowlyputthecondomon.
“Howniceisthis?”Iask,asIwrapmyfistaroundmyerection.“Imeantitasajoke,”shewhimpers.Joke?Thank.The.Lord.Allisnotlost.“Ajoke?”Iquery,asmyfistslidesupanddownmycock.“Yes.Please,Christian,”shebegs.“Areyoulaughingnow?”“No.”Hervoiceisbarelyaudible,butthelittleshakeofherheadtellsmeallIneedtoknow.Watchingherneedingme…Icouldexplodeinmyhandjustlookingather.Grabbingher,Iflip
herover,keepingher fine, fineass in theair. It’s too tempting. I slaphercheek,hard, thenplungeinsideher.
Oh,fuck.She’ssoready.Shetightensaroundmeandcriesoutasshecomes.Fuck.That’stooquick.Holdingherhipsinplace,Ifuckher,hard,ridingthroughherorgasm.Grittingmyteeth,Igrind
intoher,againandagain,asshebeginstobuildoncemore.Comeon,Ana.Again,Iwillher,poundingon.Shemoansandwhimpersbeneathme,asheenofsweatappearingonherback.Herlegsbegintoquiver.She’sclose.“Comeon,Anastasia,again,”Igrowl,andbysomemiracleherorgasmspirals throughherbody
andintomine.Thankfuck.WordlesslyIcome,pouringmyselfintoher.SweetLord.Icollapseontopofher.Thatwasexhausting.“Hownicewasthat?”IhissagainstherearasIdrawairintomylungs.Assheliesflatonthebed,panting,Ipulloutofherandremovethewretchedcondom.Igetoffthe
bedandquicklygetdressed.WhenI’mdone,Ireachdownandunfastenmytie,freeingher.Turningover,shestretchesherhandsandfingersandreadjustsherbra.OnceIcoverherwiththecomforterIliedownbesideher,proppeduponmyelbow.
“Thatwasreallynice,”shesayswithamischievoussmile.
“There’sthatwordagain.”Ismirkather.“Youdon’tlikethatword?”“No.Itdoesn’tdoitformeatall.”“Oh—Idon’tknow…itseemstohaveaverybeneficialeffectonyou.”“I’mabeneficialeffectnow,amI?Couldyouwoundmyegoanyfurther,MissSteele?”“Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingwrongwithyourego.”Herfrownisfleeting.“Youthink?”Dr.Flynnwouldhaveplentytosayaboutthat.“Whydon’tyouliketobetouched?”sheasks,hervoicesweetandsoft.“Ijustdon’t.”Ikissherforeheadtodistractherfromthislineofquestioning.“So,thate-mailwas
yourideaofajoke?”Shegivesmeacoylookandanapologeticshrug.“Isee.Soyouarestillconsideringmyproposition?”“Yourindecentproposal…yes,Iam.”Well,thankfuckforthat.Ourdealisstillinplay.Myreliefispalpable;Icanalmosttasteit.“Ihaveissues,though,”sheadds.“I’dbedisappointedifyoudidn’t.”“Iwasgoingtoe-mailthemtoyou,butyoukindofinterruptedme.”“Coitusinterruptus.”“See?Iknewyouhadasenseofhumorsomewhere in there.”Thelight inhereyesdanceswith
mirth.“Onlycertainthingsarefunny,Anastasia.Ithoughtyouweresayingno—nodiscussionatall.”“Idon’tknowyet.Ihaven’tmadeupmymind.Willyoucollarme?”Herquestionsurprisesme.“Youhavebeendoingyourresearch.Idon’tknow,Anastasia.I’venever
collaredanyone.”“Wereyoucollared?”sheasks.“Yes.”“ByMrs.Robinson?”“Mrs.Robinson?” I laughout loud.AnneBancroft inTheGraduate. “I’ll tellher you said that;
she’llloveit.”“Youstilltalktoherregularly?”Hervoiceishigh-pitchedwithshockandindignation.“Yes.”Why’sthatsuchabigdeal?“Isee.”Nowhervoiceisclipped.She’smad?Why?Idon’tunderstand.“Soyouhavesomeoneyou
candiscussyouralternativelifestylewith,butI’mnotallowed.”Hertoneispetulant,butonceagainshe’scallingmeoutonmyshit.
“Idon’tthinkI’veeverthoughtaboutitlikethat.Mrs.Robinsonispartofthatlifestyle.Itoldyou,she’sagoodfriendnow.Ifyou’dlike,Icanintroduceyoutooneofmyformersubs.Youcouldtalkto
her.”“Isthisyourideaofajoke?”shedemands.“No,Anastasia.”I’msurprisedbyhervehemenceandshakemyheadtoreinforcemydenial.It’s
perfectlynormalforasubmissivetocheckwithexesthattheirnewDominantknowswhathe’sdoing.“No—I’lldothisonmyown,thankyouverymuch,”sheinsists,andreachesforhercomforterand
quilt,pullingthemuptoherchin.What?She’supset?“Anastasia,I…Ididn’tmeantooffendyou.”“I’mnotoffended.I’mappalled.”“Appalled?”“Idon’twanttotalktooneofyourex-girlfriends,slave,sub,whateveryoucallthem.”Oh.“AnastasiaSteele,areyoujealous?”Isoundbewildered…becauseIam.Sheflushesbeetred,andI
knowI’vefoundtherootofherproblem.Howthehellcanshebejealous?Sweetheart,Ihadalifebeforeyou.Averyactivelife.“Areyoustaying?”shesnaps.What?Ofcoursenot.“IhaveabreakfastmeetingtomorrowatTheHeathman.Besides,Itoldyou,
Idon’t sleepwithgirlfriends, slaves, subs,oranyone.FridayandSaturdaywereexceptions. Itwon’thappenagain.”
Shepressesherlipstogetherwithherstubbornexpression.“Well,I’mtirednow,”shesays.Fuck.“Areyoukickingmeout?”Thisisnothowthisissupposedtogo.“Yes.”Whatthehell?Disarmedagain,byMissSteele.“Well,that’sanotherfirst,”Imutter.Kickedout.Ican’tbelieveit.“Sonothingyouwanttodiscussnow?Aboutthecontract?”Iask,asanexcusetoprolongmystay.“No,”shegrunts.Herpetulanceisirritating,andwereshetrulymine,itwouldnotbetolerated.“God,I’dliketogiveyouagoodhiding.You’dfeelalotbetter,andsowouldI,”Itellher.“Youcan’tsaythingslikethat.Ihaven’tsignedanythingyet.”Hereyesflashwithdefiance.Oh, baby, I can say it. I just can’t do it. Not until you let me. “Aman can dream, Anastasia.
Wednesday?”Istillwantthis.Why,though,Idon’tknow;she’ssodifficult.Igiveherabriefkiss.“Wednesday,”sheagrees,andI’mrelievedonceagain.“I’llseeyouout,”sheadds,hertonesofter.
“Ifyougivemeaminute.”ShepushesmeoffthebedandpullsonherT-shirt.“Pleasepassmemysweatpants,”sheorders,pointingtothem.
Wow.MissSteelecanbeabossylittlething.
“Yes,ma’am,” I quip, knowing that shewon’t get the reference. But she narrows her eyes. SheknowsI’mmakingfunofher,butshesaysnothingassheslipsherpantson.
Feelingalittlebemusedat theprospectofbeingtossedoutontothestreet,I followherthroughthelivingroomtothefrontdoor.
Whenwasthelasttimethishappened?Never.Sheopensthedoor,butshe’sstaringdownatherhands.Whatisgoingonhere?“Youokay?”Iask,andbrushherlowerlipwithmythumb.Perhapsshedoesn’twantmetogo—or
perhapsshecan’twaitformetoleave?“Yes,”shesays,hertonesoftandsubdued.I’mnotsureIbelieveher.“Wednesday,” I remindher. I’ll seeher then.Bendingdown, Ikissher,andshecloseshereyes.
AndIdon’twanttogo.Notwithheruncertaintyonmymind.Iholdherheadanddeepenthekissandsheresponds,surrenderinghermouthtome.
Oh,baby,don’tgiveuponme.Giveitatry.Shegraspsmyarms,kissingmeback,andIdon’twanttostop.She’sintoxicatingandthedarkness
isquiet,calmedbytheyoungwomaninfrontofme.Reluctantly,Ipullbackandleanmyforeheadagainsthers.
She’sbreathless,likeme.“Anastasia,whatareyoudoingtome?”“Icouldsaythesametoyou,”shewhispers.IknowIhavetoleave.Shehasmeinatailspin,andIdon’tknowwhy.Ikissherforeheadandwalk
downthepathtowardtheR8.Shestandswatchingmefromthedoorway.Shehasn’tgonein.Ismile,pleasedthatshe’sstillwatchingasIclimbintothecar.
WhenIlookback,she’sgone.Shit.Whatjusthappened?Nowavegood-bye?IstartthecarandbeginthedrivebacktoPortland,analyzingwhat’stakenplacebetweenus.Shee-mailedme.Iwenttoher.Wefucked.ShethrewmeoutbeforeIwasreadytoleave.For the first time—well,maybenot the first time—I feel a littleused, for sex. It’s a disturbing
feelingthatremindsmeofmytimewithElena.Hell!MissSteeleistoppingfromthebottom,andshedoesn’tevenknowit.AndfoolthatIam,I’m
lettingher.Ihavetoturnthisaround.Thissoft-sellapproachismessingwithmyhead.ButIwanther.Ineedhertosign.Isitjustthechase?Isthatwhat’sturningmeon?Orisither?Fuck,Idon’tknow.ButIhopetofindoutmoreonWednesday.Andonapositivenote,thatwas
onehellofanicewaytospendanevening.Ismirkintherearviewmirrorandpullintothegarageat
thehotel.WhenI’mbackinmyroomIsitdownatmylaptop.Focusonwhatyouwant,whereyouwanttobe.Isn’tthatwhatFlynnisalwaysharassingmeabout,
hissolution-basedshit?
From:ChristianGreySubject:ThisEveningDate:May23201123:16
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele,
Ilookforwardtoreceivingyournotesonthecontract.
Untilthen,sleepwell,baby.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
AndIwanttoadd,Thankyouforanotherdivertingevening…butthatseemsalittleoverthetop.Pushing my laptop aside because Ana will probably be asleep, I pick up the Detroit report andcontinuereading.
TUESDAY,MAY24,2011
ThethoughtofsitingtheelectronicsplantinDetroitisdepressing.IloatheDetroit;itholdsnothingbutbadmemoriesforme.MemoriesIdomydamnedesttoforget.Theysurface,mainlyatnight,toremindmeofwhatIamandwhereIcamefrom.
ButMichigan isofferingexcellent tax incentives. It’shard to ignorewhat theyareproposing inthisreport.ItossitonthediningtableandtakeasipofmySancerre.Shit.It’swarm.It’slate.Ishouldsleep.As I standandstretch, there’sapingonmycomputer.Ane-mail. Itmightbe fromRos, so Ihaveaquicklook.
It’sfromAna.Whyisshestillawake?
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:IssuesDate:May24201100:02
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
Hereismylistofissues.IlookforwardtodiscussingthemmorefullyatdinneronWednesday.
Thenumbersrefertoclauses:
She’s referring to theclauses?MissSteelehasbeen thorough. Ipull acopyupon screen formyreference.
CONTRACTMadethisday_____of2011(“TheCommencementDate”)BETWEENMR.CHRISTIANGREYof301Escala,Seattle,WA98889(“TheDominant”)MISSANASTASIASTEELEof1114SWGreenStreet,Apartment7,HavenHeights,Vancouver,WA98888(“TheSubmissive”)THEPARTIESAGREEASFOLLOWS1ThefollowingarethetermsofabindingcontractbetweentheDominantandtheSubmissive.FUNDAMENTALTERMS2ThefundamentalpurposeofthiscontractistoallowtheSubmissivetoexplorehersensualityandherlimitssafely,withduerespectandregardforherneeds,herlimits,andherwell-being.3 TheDominant and theSubmissive agree and acknowledge that all that occurs under the terms of this contractwill beconsensual,confidential,andsubjecttotheagreedlimitsandsafetyproceduressetoutinthiscontract.Additionallimitsandsafetyproceduresmaybeagreedinwriting.4 TheDominant and the Submissive each warrant that they suffer from no sexual, serious, infectious, or life-threatening
illnesses,includingbutnotlimitedtoHIV,herpes,andhepatitis.IfduringtheTerm(asdefinedbelow)oranyextendedtermofthiscontracteitherpartyshouldbediagnosedwithorbecomeawareofanysuchillness,heorsheundertakestoinformtheotherimmediatelyandinanyeventpriortoanyformofphysicalcontactbetweentheparties.5Adherencetotheabovewarranties,agreements,andundertakings(andanyadditionallimitsandsafetyproceduresagreedunderclause3above)arefundamentaltothiscontract.Anybreachshallrenderitvoidwithimmediateeffectandeachpartyagreestobefullyresponsibletotheotherfortheconsequenceofanybreach.6Everythinginthiscontractmustbereadandinterpretedinthelightofthefundamentalpurposeandthefundamentaltermssetoutinclauses2–5above.ROLES7 The Dominant shall take responsibility for the well-being and the proper training, guidance, and discipline of theSubmissive.Heshalldecidethenatureofsuchtraining,guidance,anddisciplineandthetimeandplaceofitsadministration,subject to theagreed terms, limitations,andsafetyprocedures setout in thiscontractoragreedadditionallyunderclause3above.8 If at any time theDominant should fail to keep to the agreed terms, limitations, and safety procedures set out in thiscontract or agreed additionallyunder clause 3 above, theSubmissive is entitled to terminate this contract forthwith and toleavetheserviceoftheDominantwithoutnotice.9Subjecttothatprovisoandtoclauses2–5above,theSubmissiveistoserveandobeytheDominantinallthings.Subjecttotheagreedterms, limitations,andsafetyproceduressetoutinthiscontractoragreedadditionallyunderclause3above,sheshallwithoutqueryorhesitationoffer theDominantsuchpleasureashemayrequireandsheshallacceptwithoutqueryorhesitationhistraining,guidance,anddisciplineinwhateverformitmaytake.COMMENCEMENTANDTERM10 The Dominant and Submissive enter into this contract on the Commencement Date fully aware of its nature andundertaketoabidebyitsconditionswithoutexception.11ThiscontractshallbeeffectiveforaperiodofthreecalendarmonthsfromtheCommencementDate(“theTerm”).OntheexpiryoftheTermthepartiesshalldiscusswhetherthiscontractandthearrangementstheyhavemadeunderthiscontractaresatisfactoryandwhether theneedsofeachpartyhavebeenmet.Eitherpartymaypropose theextensionof thiscontractsubject to adjustments to its terms or to the arrangements they havemade under it. In the absence of agreement to suchextensionthiscontractshallterminateandbothpartiesshallbefreetoresumetheirlivesseparately.AVAILABILITY12 TheSubmissivewillmakeherself available to theDominant fromFriday evenings through toSunday afternoons eachweek during the Term at times to be specified by the Dominant (“the Allotted Times”). Further allocated time can bemutuallyagreedtoonanadhocbasis.13 The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. TheSubmissivemayrequestherreleaseatanytime,suchrequesttobegrantedatthediscretionoftheDominantsubjectonlytotheSubmissive’srightsunderclauses2–5and8above.LOCATION14 The Submissive willmake herself available during the Allotted Times and agreed additional times at locations to bedeterminedbytheDominant.TheDominantwillensurethatalltravelcostsincurredbytheSubmissiveforthatpurposearemetbytheDominant.SERVICEPROVISIONS15ThefollowingserviceprovisionshavebeendiscussedandagreedandwillbeadheredtobybothpartiesduringtheTerm.Bothpartiesacceptthatcertainmattersmayarisethatarenotcoveredbythetermsofthiscontractortheserviceprovisions,orthatcertainmattersmayberenegotiated.Insuchcircumstances,furtherclausesmaybeproposedbywayofamendment.Anyfurther clauses or amendments must be agreed, documented, and signed by both parties and shall be subject to thefundamentaltermssetoutunderclauses2–5above.DOMINANT15.1TheDominantshallmaketheSubmissive’shealthandsafetyapriorityatalltimes.TheDominantshallnotatanytimerequire, request, allow, or demand theSubmissive to participate at thehands of theDominant in the activities detailed inAppendix2orinanyactthateitherpartydeemstobeunsafe.TheDominantwillnotundertakeorpermittobeundertakenanyactionwhichcouldcauseseriousinjuryoranyrisktotheSubmissive’slife.Theremainingsubclausesofthisclause15aretobereadsubjecttothisprovisoandtothefundamentalmattersagreedinclauses2–5above.
15.2 The Dominant accepts the Submissive as his, to own, control, dominate, and discipline during the Term. TheDominantmayusetheSubmissive’sbodyatanytimeduringtheAllottedTimesoranyagreedadditionaltimesinanymannerhedeemsfit,sexuallyorotherwise.15.3 The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with all necessary training and guidance in how to properly serve theDominant.15.4TheDominantshallmaintainastableandsafeenvironmentinwhichtheSubmissivemayperformherdutiesinserviceoftheDominant.15.5 The Dominant may discipline the Submissive as necessary to ensure the Submissive fully appreciates her role ofsubserviencetotheDominantandtodiscourageunacceptableconduct.TheDominantmayflog,spank,whip,orcorporallypunishtheSubmissiveasheseesfit,forpurposesofdiscipline,forhisownpersonalenjoyment,orforanyotherreason,whichheisnotobligedtoprovide.15.6IntrainingandintheadministrationofdisciplinetheDominantshallensurethatnopermanentmarksaremadeupontheSubmissive’sbodynoranyinjuriesincurredthatmayrequiremedicalattention.15.7 In training and in the administrationof discipline theDominant shall ensure that thediscipline and the instrumentsusedforthepurposesofdisciplinearesafe,shallnotbeusedinsuchawayastocauseseriousharm,andshallnotinanywayexceedthelimitsdefinedanddetailedinthiscontract.15.8IncaseofillnessorinjurytheDominantshallcarefortheSubmissive,seeingtoherhealthandsafety,encouragingand,whennecessary,orderingmedicalattentionwhenitisjudgednecessarybytheDominant.15.9TheDominantshallmaintainhisowngoodhealthandseekmedicalattentionwhennecessaryinordertomaintainarisk-freeenvironment.15.10TheDominantshallnotloanhisSubmissivetoanotherDominant.15.11 TheDominantmay restrain,handcuff,orbind theSubmissiveatany timeduring theAllottedTimesoranyagreedadditionaltimesforanyreasonandforextendedperiodsoftime,givingdueregardtothehealthandsafetyoftheSubmissive.15.12TheDominantwillensurethatallequipmentusedforthepurposesoftraininganddisciplineshallbemaintainedinaclean,hygienic,andsafestateatalltimes.SUBMISSIVE15.13 The Submissive accepts the Dominant as her master, with the understanding that she is now the property of theDominant,tobedealtwithastheDominantpleasesduringtheTermgenerallybutspecificallyduringtheAllottedTimesandanyadditionalagreedallottedtimes.15.14TheSubmissiveshallobeytherules(“theRules”)setoutinAppendix1tothisagreement.15.15TheSubmissiveshallservetheDominantinanywaytheDominantseesfitandshallendeavortopleasetheDominantatalltimestothebestofherability.15.16 The Submissive shall take all measures necessary to maintain her good health and shall request or seek medicalattentionwheneveritisneeded,keepingtheDominantinformedatalltimesofanyhealthissuesthatmayarise.15.17TheSubmissivewillensurethatsheprocuresoralcontraceptionandensurethatshetakesitasandwhenprescribedtopreventanypregnancy.15.18TheSubmissiveshallacceptwithoutquestionanyandalldisciplinaryactionsdeemednecessarybytheDominantandrememberherstatusandroleinregardtotheDominantatalltimes.15.19TheSubmissiveshallnottouchorpleasureherselfsexuallywithoutpermissionfromtheDominant.15.20TheSubmissiveshallsubmit toanysexualactivitydemandedbytheDominantandshalldosowithouthesitationorargument.15.21TheSubmissiveshallacceptwhippings,floggings,spankings,canings,paddlings,oranyotherdisciplinetheDominantshoulddecidetoadminister,withouthesitation,inquiry,orcomplaint.15.22TheSubmissiveshallnotlookdirectlyintotheeyesoftheDominantexceptwhenspecificallyinstructedtodoso.TheSubmissiveshallkeephereyescastdownandmaintainaquietandrespectfulbearinginthepresenceoftheDominant.15.23TheSubmissiveshallalwaysconductherselfinarespectfulmannertotheDominantandshalladdresshimonlyasSir,Mr.Grey,orsuchothertitleastheDominantmaydirect.15.24TheSubmissivewillnottouchtheDominantwithouthisexpresspermissiontodoso.ACTIVITIES16 TheSubmissiveshallnotparticipate inactivitiesoranysexualacts thateitherpartydeemstobeunsafeoranyactivitiesdetailedinAppendix2.
17 The Dominant and the Submissive have discussed the activities set out in Appendix 3 and recorded in writing onAppendix3theiragreementinrespectofthem.SAFEWORDS18TheDominantandtheSubmissiverecognize that theDominantmaymakedemandsof theSubmissive thatcannotbemet without incurring physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, or other harm at the time the demands are made to theSubmissive.Insuchcircumstancesrelatedtothis,theSubmissivemaymakeuseofasafeword(“theSafeWord[s]”).TwoSafeWordswillbeinvokeddependingontheseverityofthedemands.19TheSafeWord“Yellow”willbeusedtobringtotheattentionoftheDominantthattheSubmissiveisclosetoherlimitofendurance.20 TheSafeWord “Red”will beused to bring to the attention of theDominant that theSubmissive cannot tolerate anyfurtherdemands.Whenthiswordissaid,theDominant’sactionwillceasecompletelywithimmediateeffect.CONCLUSION21 We the undersigned have read and understood fully the provisions of this contract.We freely accept the terms of thiscontractandhaveacknowledgedthisbyoursignaturesbelow.
TheDominant:ChristianGreyDate
TheSubmissive:AnastasiaSteeleDate
APPENDIX1RULESObedience:TheSubmissivewill obey any instructions given by theDominant immediatelywithout hesitation or reservation and in anexpeditiousmanner.TheSubmissivewillagreetoanysexualactivitydeemedfitandpleasurablebytheDominantexceptingthoseactivitiesthatareoutlinedinhardlimits(Appendix2).Shewilldosoeagerlyandwithouthesitation.Sleep:TheSubmissivewillensuresheachievesaminimumofeighthours’sleepanightwhensheisnotwiththeDominant.Food:TheSubmissivewill eat regularly tomaintainher health andwell-being from a prescribed list of foods (Appendix 4).TheSubmissivewillnotsnackbetweenmeals,withtheexceptionoffruit.Clothes:DuringtheTermtheSubmissivewillwearclothingonlyapprovedbytheDominant.TheDominantwillprovideaclothingbudget for theSubmissive,which theSubmissive shallutilize.TheDominant shall accompany theSubmissive topurchaseclothing on an ad hoc basis. If the Dominant so requires, the Submissive shall, during the Term, wear adornments theDominantshallrequire,inthepresenceoftheDominantandatanyothertimetheDominantdeemsfit.Exercise:TheDominant shall provide theSubmissivewith apersonal trainer four times aweek inhour-long sessions at times to bemutuallyagreedbetween thepersonal trainerand theSubmissive.Thepersonal trainerwill report to theDominanton theSubmissive’sprogress.PersonalHygiene/Beauty:TheSubmissivewillkeepherselfcleanandshavedand/orwaxedatalltimes.TheSubmissivewillvisitabeautysalonoftheDominant’schoosingat times tobedecidedby theDominant andundergowhatever treatments theDominant sees fit.All
costswillbemetbytheDominant.PersonalSafety:TheSubmissivewillnotdrinktoexcess,smoke,takerecreationaldrugs,orputherselfinanyunnecessarydanger.PersonalQualities:TheSubmissivewillnotenter intoanysexualrelationswithanyoneother thantheDominant.TheSubmissivewillconductherself in a respectful andmodestmanner at all times. Shemust recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on theDominant. She shall be held accountable for any misdeeds, wrongdoings, and misbehavior committed when not in thepresenceoftheDominant.
Failuretocomplywithanyoftheabovewillresultinimmediatepunishment,thenatureofwhichshallbedeterminedbytheDominant.
APPENDIX2HardLimitsNoactsinvolvingfireplay.Noactsinvolvingurinationordefecationandtheproductsthereof.Noactsinvolvingneedles,knives,cutting,piercing,orblood.Noactsinvolvinggynecologicalmedicalinstruments.Noactsinvolvingchildrenoranimals.Noactsthatwillleaveanypermanentmarksontheskin.Noactsinvolvingbreathcontrol.Noactivitythatinvolvesthedirectcontactofelectriccurrent(whetheralternatingordirect),fire,orflamestothebody.
APPENDIX3SoftLimitsTobediscussedandagreedbetweenbothparties:DoestheSubmissiveconsentto:
MasturbationCunnilingusFellatioSwallowingSemenVaginalintercourseVaginalfistingAnalintercourseAnalfisting
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttotheuseof:
VibratorsButtplugsDildosOthervaginal/analtoys
DoestheSubmissiveconsentto:
BondagewithropeBondagewithleathercuffs
Bondagewithhandcuffs/shackles/manaclesBondagewithtapeBondagewithother
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttoberestrainedwith:
HandsboundinfrontAnklesboundElbowsboundHandsboundbehindbackKneesboundWristsboundtoanklesBindingtofixeditems,furniture,etc.BindingwithspreaderbarSuspension
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttobeblindfolded?
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttobegagged?
HowmuchpainistheSubmissivewillingtoexperience?
Where1islikesintenselyand5isdislikesintensely:1—2—3—4—5
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttoacceptthefollowingformsofpain/punishment/discipline:
SpankingWhippingBitingGenitalclampsHotwaxPaddlingCaningNippleclampsIceOthertypes/methodsofpain
So,herpoints.
2:NotsurewhythisissolelyforMYbenefit—i.e.,toexploreMYsensualityandlimits.I’msureIwouldn’tneeda
ten-pagecontracttodothat!SurelythisisforYOURbenefit.
Fairpointwellmade,MissSteele!
4:Asyouareaware,youaremyonlysexualpartner.Idon’ttakedrugs,andI’venothadanybloodtransfusions.
I’mprobablysafe.Whataboutyou?
Anotherfairpoint!AnditdawnsonmethatthisisthefirsttimeIhaven’thadtoconsiderthesexualhistoryofapartner.Well,that’soneadvantageofscrewingavirgin.
8:IcanterminateatanytimeifIdon’tthinkyou’restickingtotheagreedlimits.Okay—Ilikethis.
Ihopeitwon’tcometothat,butitwouldn’tbethefirsttimeifitdid.
9:Obeyyouinallthings?Acceptwithouthesitationyourdiscipline?Weneedtotalkaboutthis.
11:One-monthtrialperiod.Notthree.
Onlyamonth?That’snotlongenough.Howfarcanwegoinamonth?
12:Icannotcommiteveryweekend.Idohavealife,orwillhave.Perhapsthreeoutoffour?
Andshe’llhavetheopportunitytosocializewithothermen?She’llrealizewhatshe’smissing.I’mnotsureaboutthis.
15.2:Usingmybodyasyouseefitsexuallyorotherwise—pleasedefine“orotherwise.”
15.5:Thiswholedisciplineclause.I’mnotsureIwanttobewhipped,flogged,orcorporallypunished.Iamsure
thiswouldbeinbreachofclauses2–5.Andalso“foranyotherreason.”That’sjustmean—andyoutoldmeyou
weren’tasadist.
Shit!Readon,Grey.
15.10:Likeloaningmeouttosomeoneelsewouldeverbeanoption.ButI’mgladit’shereinblackandwhite.
15.14:TheRules.Moreonthoselater.
15.19:Touchingmyselfwithoutyourpermission.What’stheproblemwiththis?YouknowIdon’tdoitanyway.
15.21:Discipline—pleaseseeclause15.5above.
15.22:Ican’tlookintoyoureyes?Why?
15.24:Whycan’tItouchyou?
Rules:
Sleep—I’llagreetosixhours.
Food—Iamnoteatingfoodfromaprescribedlist.ThefoodlistgoesorIdo—dealbreaker.
Well,thisisgoingtobeanissue!
Clothes—aslongasIonlyhavetowearyourclotheswhenI’mwithyou…okay.
Exercise—Weagreedonthreehours,thisstillsaysfour.
SoftLimits:
Canwegothroughallofthese?Nofistingofanykind.Whatissuspension?Genitalclamps—youhavegottobe
kiddingme.
CanyoupleaseletmeknowthearrangementsforWednesday?Iamworkinguntilfivep.m.thatday.
Goodnight.
Ana
Herresponseisarelief.MissSteelehasputsomethoughtintothis,moresothananyoneelseI’vedealtwithoverthiscontract.She’sreallyengaged.Sheseemstobetakingitseriouslyandwe’llhavemuchtodiscussonWednesday.TheuncertaintythatIfeltwhenleavingherapartmentthiseveningrecedes.There’shopeforourrelationship,butfirst—sheneedstosleep.
From:ChristianGreySubject:IssuesDate:May24201100:07
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele,
That’salonglist.Whyareyoustillup?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Afewminuteslaterheranswerisinmyinbox.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:BurningtheMidnightOil
Date:May24201100:10
To:ChristianGrey
Sir,
Ifyourecall,IwasgoingthroughthislistwhenIwasdistractedandbeddedbyapassingcontrolfreak.
Goodnight.
Ana
Here-mailmakesmelaughoutloudbutitirritatesmeinequalmeasure.She’smuchmoresassyinprintandshehasagreatsenseofhumor,butthewomanneedssleep.
From:ChristianGreySubject:StopBurningtheMidnightOil
Date:May24201100:12
To:AnastasiaSteele
GOTOBED,ANASTASIA.
ChristianGreyCEO&ControlFreak,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
AfewminutespassandonceI’mconvincedshe’sgonetobed,persuadedbymycapitalletters,Iheadintomybedroom.Itakemylaptopjustincasesherepliesagain.
Onceinbed,Igrabmybookandread.AfterhalfanhourIgiveup.Ican’tconcentrate;mymindkeepsstrayingtoAna,howshewasthisevening,andhere-mail.
Ineed to remindherofwhat Iexpect fromourrelationship. Idon’twanthergetting thewrongidea.I’vestrayedtoofarfrommygoal.
“AreyougoingtocomeandhelpAnawiththemove?”Kavanagh’swordsremindmethatunrealisticexpectationshavebeenset.
PerhapsIcouldhelpthemmove?No.Stopnow,Grey.Openingmylaptop,Ireadthroughher“Issues”e-mailagain.Ineedtomanageherexpectations
andtrytofindtherightwordstoexpresshowIfeel.Finally,I’minspired.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YourIssuesDate:May24201101:27
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Followingmymorethoroughexaminationofyourissues,mayIbringtoyourattentionthedefinitionof
submissive.
submissive[suhb-mis-iv]—adjective
1.inclinedorreadytosubmit;unresistinglyorhumblyobedient:submissiveservants.
2.markedbyorindicatingsubmission:asubmissivereply.
Origin:1580–90;submiss+-ive
Synonyms:1.tractable,compliant,pliant,amenable.2.passive,resigned,patient,docile,tame,subdued.
Antonyms:1.rebellious,disobedient.
PleasebearthisinmindforourmeetingonWednesday.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
That’sit.Ihopeshe’llfinditamusing,butitgetsmypointacross.Withthatthought,Iswitchoffmybedsidelightandfallasleepanddream.
HisnameisLelliot.He’sbiggerthanme.Helaughs.Andsmiles.Andshouts.Andtalksallthetime.HetalksallthetimetoMommyandDaddy.Heismybrother.Whydon’tyou
talk?Lelliotsaysagainandagainandagain.Areyoustupid?Lelliotsaysagainandagainandagain.Ijumponhimandsmackhisfaceagainandagainandagain.Hecries.Hecriesalot.Idon’tcry.Inevercry.Mommyisangrywithme.Ihavetositonthebottomstair.Ihavetositforthelongesttime.ButLelliotneverasksmewhyIdon’ttalkeveragain.IfImakemyhandintoafistherunsaway.Lelliotisscaredofme.HeknowsI’mamonster.
WHENIRETURNFROMmyrunthenextmorning,Icheckmye-mailbeforehavingashower.NothingfromMissSteele,butthenit’sonly7:30.Maybeit’salittleearly.
Grey,snapoutofthis.Getagrip.Iglareat thegray-eyedprickwhostaresbackatme fromthemirroras I shave.Nomore.Forget
aboutherfortoday.Ihaveajobtodoandabreakfastmeetingtoattend.
“FREDDIEWASSAYINGBARNEYmayhaveaprototypeofthetabletforyouinacoupleofdays,”Rostellsmeduringourvideoconference.
“Iwasstudyingtheschematicsyesterday.Theywereimpressive,butI’mnotsurewe’rethereyet.Ifwegetthisrightthere’snotellingwherethetechnologycouldgo,andwhatitcoulddoindevelopingcountries.”
“Don’tforgetthehomemarket,”sheinterjects.“Asif.”“Christian,justhowlongareyougoingtobeinPortland?”Rossoundsexasperated.“What’sgoing
on down there?” Eyeing the webcam, she then peers hard at her screen, looking for clues in myexpression.
“Amerger.”Itrytohidemysmile.“DoesMarcoknow?”Isnort.MarcoInglisistheheadofmymergersandacquisitionsdivision.“No.It’snotthatkindof
merger.”“Oh.”Rosissilencedmomentarilyand,fromherlook,surprised.Yeah.It’sprivate.“Well,Ihopeyou’resuccessful,”shesays,smirking.“Me,too,”Iacknowledgewithasmirkofmyown.“Now,canwetalkaboutWoods?”Overthepastyear,we’veacquiredthreetechcompanies.Twoarebooming,surpassingalltargets,
andoneisstrugglingdespiteMarco’sinitialoptimism.LucasWoodsheadsitup;he’sturnedouttobeanidiot—allshow,nosubstance.Themoneyhasgonetohisheadandhe’slostfocusandsquanderedtheleadhiscompanyoncehadinfiberoptics.Mygutsaysasset-stripthecompany,fireWoods,andmergetheirtechnologydivisionintoGEH.
ButRosthinksLucasneedsmoretime—andthatweneedtimetoplanifwe’regoingtoliquidateandrebrandhiscompany.Ifwedo,itwillinvolveexpensiveredundancies.
“I thinkWoods has had enough time to turn this around. He just won’t accept reality,” I say
emphatically.“Weneedhimgone,andI’dlikeMarcotoestimatethecostsofliquidating.”“Marcowantstojoinusforthispartofthecall.I’llgethimtologin.”
AT12:30INTHEafternoonTaylordrivesmeouttoWSUinVancouverforlunchwiththepresident,theheadoftheenvironmentalsciencesdepartment,andthevicepresidentofeconomicdevelopment.Aswe approach the longdriveway I can’t help looking out at all the students to see if I can spyMissSteele.Alas,Idon’tseeher;she’sprobablyholedupinthelibraryreadingaclassic.Thethoughtofhercurledupsomewherewithabookiscomforting.Therehasbeennoreplytomylaste-mail,butthenshe’sbeenworking.Perhapsthere’llbesomethingafterlunch.
Aswepullupoutside theadministrationbuildingmyphonebuzzes. It’sGrace.Shenevercallsduringtheweek.
“Mom?”“Hello,darling.Howareyou?”“Fine.I’mabouttogointoameeting.”“YourPAsaidyouwereinPortland.”Hervoiceisfullofhope.Damn.ShethinksI’mwithAna.“Yeah,onbusiness.”“How’sAnastasia?”Thereitis!“FineasfarasIknow,Grace.Whatdoyouwant?”Oh,GoodLord.MymotherissomeoneelsewhoseexpectationsIhavetomanage.“Mia’scominghomeaweekearly,onSaturday.I’moncallthatdayandyourfatherisawayata
legalconferencepresentingapanelonphilanthropyandaid,”shesays.“Youwantmetomeether?”“Willyou?”“Sure.Askhertosendmeherflightdetails.”“Thankyou,darling.SayhitoAnastasiaforme.”“Ihavetogo.Good-bye,Mom.”Ihangupbeforeshecanaskanymoreawkwardquestions.Taylor
opensthecardoor.“Ishouldbeoutofherebythree.”“Yes,Mr.Grey.”“Willyoubeabletoseeyourdaughtertomorrow,Taylor?”“Yes,sir.”Hisexpressioniswarmandfullofpaternalpride.“Great.”“I’llbehereatthree,”heconfirms.Iheadintotheuniversity’sadministrationbuilding…Thisisgoingtobealonglunch.
IHAVEMANAGEDTOkeepAnastasiaSteeleoutofeverywakingthoughttoday.Almost.DuringlunchthereweretimeswhenIfoundmyselfimaginingusinmyplayroom…Whatdidshecallit?TheRed
RoomofPain.Ishakemyhead,smiling,andcheckmye-mail.Thatwomanhasawaywithwords,butsofartherearenowordsfromhertoday.
Ichangefrommysuittomysweatstogetreadyforthehotelgym.AsI’mabouttoleavemyroom,Ihearaping.It’sher.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:MyIssues…WhataboutYourIssues?
Date:May24201118:29
To:ChristianGrey
Sir,
Pleasenotethedateoforigin:1580–90.IwouldrespectfullyremindSirthattheyearis2011.Wehavecomea
longwaysincethen.
MayIofferadefinitionforyoutoconsiderforourmeeting:
compromise[kom-pruh-mahyz]—noun
1.asettlementofdifferencesbymutualconcessions;anagreementreachedbyadjustmentofconflictingor
opposingclaims,principles,etc.,byreciprocalmodificationofdemands.2.theresultofsuchasettlement.3.
somethingintermediatebetweendifferentthings:Thesplit-levelisacompromisebetweenaranchhouseanda
multistoriedhouse.4.anendangering,esp.ofreputation;exposuretodanger,suspicion,etc.:acompromiseof
one’sintegrity.
Ana
Whatasurprise,aprovocativee-mailfromMissSteele,butourmeetingisstillhappening.Well,that’sarelief.
From:ChristianGreySubject:WhataboutMyIssues?
Date:May24201118:32
To:AnastasiaSteele
Goodpoint,wellmade,asever,MissSteele.Iwillcollectyoufromyourapartmentat7:00tomorrow.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Myphonebuzzes.It’sElliot.“Hey,hotshot.Kate’saskedmetohassleyouaboutthemove.”“Themove?”“KateandAna,helpmoving,youdipshit.”Igivehimanexaggeratedsigh.Hereallyisacrudeasshole.“Ican’thelp.I’mmeetingMiaatthe
airport.”“What?Can’tMomdothat,orDad?”“No.Momcalledmethismorning.”“ThenIguessthatsettlesit.YounevertoldmehowyougotonwithAna?Didyouf—”“Good-bye,Elliot.”Ihangup.It’snoneofhisbusinessandthere’sane-mailwaitingforme.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:2011—WomenCanDrive
Date:May24201118:40
To:ChristianGrey
Sir,
Ihaveacar.Icandrive.
Iwouldprefertomeetyousomewhere.
WhereshallImeetyou?
Atyourhotelat7:00?
Ana
Howirritating.Iwritebackimmediately.
From:ChristianGreySubject:StubbornYoungWomen
Date:May24201118:43
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Irefertomye-maildatedMay24,2011,sentat1:27,andthedefinitioncontainedtherein.
Doyoueverthinkyou’llbeabletodowhatyou’retold?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Herresponseisslow,whichdoesnothingformymood.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:IntractableMen
Date:May24201118:49
To:ChristianGrey
Mr.Grey,
Iwouldliketodrive.
Please.
Ana
Intractable?Me?Fuck.Ifourmeetinggoesasplanned,hercontrarybehaviorwillbeathingofthepast.Withthatinmind,Iagree.
From:ChristianGreySubject:ExasperatedMen
Date:May24201118:52
To:AnastasiaSteele
Fine.
Myhotelat7:00.
I’llmeetyouintheMarbleBar.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:NotSoIntractableMen
Date:May24201118:55
To:ChristianGrey
Thankyou.
Anax
AndI’mrewardedwithakiss.Ignoringhowthatmakesmefeel,Iletherknowthatshe’swelcome.MymoodhasliftedasIheadtothehotelgym.
Shesentmeakiss…
WEDNESDAY,MAY25,2011
IorderaglassofSancerreandstandat thebar. I’vebeenwaiting for thismomentalldayand lookrepeatedlyatmywatch.Thisfeelslikeafirstdate,andinawayitis.I’venevertakenaprospectouttodinner. I’ve sat through interminable meetings today, bought a business, and fired three people.NothingI’vedonetoday,includingrunning—twice—andaquickcircuitinthegym,hasdispelledtheanxiety I’ve wrestled with all day. That power is in the hands of Anastasia Steele. I want hersubmission.
Ihopeshe’snotgoingtobe late. Iglancetowardtheentranceof thebar…andmymouthdries.She’sstandingonthethreshold,andforasecondIdon’trealizeit’sher.Shelooksexquisite:herhairfallsinsoftwavestoherbreastononeside,andontheotherit’spinnedbacksoit’seasiertoseeherdelicate jawlineand thegentlecurveofher slenderneck.She’swearinghighheelsanda tightdarkpurpledressthataccentuatesherlithe,alluringfigure.
Wow.Istepforwardtomeether.“Youlookstunning,”Iwhisper,andkisshercheek.Closingmyeyes,I
savorherscent;shesmellsheavenly.“Adress,MissSteele.Iapprove.”Diamondsinherearswouldcompletetheensemble;Imustbuyherapair.
Takingherhand,Ileadhertoabooth.“Whatwouldyouliketodrink?”I’mrewardedwithaknowingsmileasshesitsdown.“I’llhavewhatyou’rehaving,please.”Ah, she’s learning. “Another glass of theSancerre,” I tell thewaiter, and I slide into the booth,
oppositeher.“Theyhaveanexcellentwinecellarhere,”Iadd,andtakeamomenttolookather.She’swearing a little makeup. Not too much. And I remember when she first fell into my office howordinary I thought she looked. She is anything but ordinary. With a little makeup and the rightclothes,she’sagoddess.
Sheshiftsinherseatandhereyelashesflutter.“Areyounervous?”Iask.“Yes.”Thisisit,Grey.Leaningforward, inacandidwhisper, I tellher thatI’mnervous, too.Shelooksatmeas if I’ve
grownthreeheads.Yeah,I’mhuman,too,baby…just.ThewaiterplacesAna’swineandtwosmallplatesofmixednutsandolivesbetweenus.Ana squares her shoulders, an indication that she means business, like she did when she first
interviewedme.“So,howarewegoingtodothis?Runthroughmypointsonebyone?”sheasks.“Impatientasever,MissSteele.”“Well,Icouldaskyouwhatyouthoughtoftheweathertoday,”sheretorts.
Oh,thatsmartmouth.Letherstewforamoment,Grey.Keepingmyeyesonhers,Ipopanoliveintomymouthandlickmyindexfinger.Hereyesgrow
wideranddarker.“Ithoughttheweatherwasparticularlyunexceptionaltoday.”Itryfornonchalance.“Areyousmirkingatme,Mr.Grey?”“Iam,MissSteele.”Shepursesherlipstostiflehersmile.“Youknowthiscontractislegallyunenforceable.”“Iamfullyawareofthat,MissSteele.”“Wereyougoingtotellmethatatanypoint?”What?Ididn’tthinkI’dhaveto…andyou’veworkeditoutforyourself.“You’dthinkI’dcoerceyou
intosomethingyoudon’twanttodo,andthenpretendthatIhavealegalholdoveryou?”“Well,yes.”Whoa.“Youdon’tthinkveryhighlyofme,doyou?”“Youhaven’tansweredmyquestion.”“Anastasia, itdoesn’tmatter if it’s legalornot. It representsanarrangement thatIwouldlike to
makewithyou—whatIwouldlikefromyouandwhatyoucanexpectfromme.Ifyoudon’t likeit,thendon’tsign.Ifyoudosignandthendecideyoudon’tlikeit, thereareenoughget-outclausessoyoucanwalkaway.Evenifitwerelegallybinding,doyouthinkI’ddragyouthroughthecourtsifyoudiddecidetorun?”
Whatdoesshetakemefor?Sheconsidersmewithherunfathomableblueeyes.WhatIneedhertounderstandisthatthiscontractisn’taboutthelaw,it’sabouttrust.Iwantyoutotrustme,Ana.AsshetakesasipofherwineIrushon,endeavoringtoexplain.“Relationshipslikethisarebuilt
onhonestyandtrust.Ifyoudon’ttrustme—trustmetoknowhowI’maffectingyou,howfarIcangowithyou,howfarIcantakeyou—ifyoucan’tbehonestwithme,thenwereallycan’tdothis.”
SherubsherchinassheconsiderswhatI’vesaid.“Soit’squitesimple,Anastasia.Doyoutrustmeornot?”Andifshethinkssolittleofme,thenweshouldn’tdothisatall.Mygutisknottingwithtension.“Didyouhavesimilardiscussionswith,um…thefifteen?”“No.”Whyisshegoingoffonthistangent?“Whynot?”sheasks.“Becausetheywereallestablishedsubmissives.Theyknewwhattheywantedoutofarelationship
withmeandgenerallywhatIexpected.Withthem,itwasjustaquestionoffine-tuningthesoftlimits,detailslikethat.”
“Isthereastoreyougoto?Submissives’R’Us?”ShearchesaneyebrowandIlaughoutloud.Andlikeamagician’srabbitthetensioninmybodydisappears.“Notexactly.”Mytoneiswry.
“Thenhow?”She’sever-curious,butIdon’twanttotalkaboutElenaagain.LasttimeImentionedherAnaturnedfrosty.“Isthatwhatyouwanttodiscuss?Orshallwegetdowntothenitty-gritty?Yourissues,asyousay.”
Shefrowns.“Areyouhungry?”Iask.Shelookssuspiciouslyattheolives.“No.”“Haveyoueatentoday?”Shehesitates.Shit.“No,”shesays.Itrynottoletheradmissionangerme.“Youhavetoeat,Anastasia.Wecaneatdownhereorinmysuite.Whichwouldyouprefer?”She’llnevergoforthis.“Ithinkweshouldstayinpublic,onneutralground.”Aspredicted—sensible,MissSteele.“Doyouthinkthatwouldstopme?”Myvoiceishusky.Sheswallows.“Ihopeso.”Putthegirloutofhermisery,Grey.“Come,Ihaveaprivatediningroombooked.Nopublic.”Rising,Iholdoutmyhandtoher.Willshetakeit?Shelooksfrommyfacetomyhand.“Bringyourwine,”Iorder.Andshepicksupherglassandplacesherhandinmine.Asweleavethebar,Inoticeadmiringglancesfromotherguests,andinthecaseofonehandsome,
athleticguy,overtappreciationofmydate.It’snotsomethingI’vedealtwithbefore…andIdon’tthinkIlikeit.
Upstairs on themezzanine, the liveried younghost dispatched by themaître d’ leads us to theroomI’vebooked.HeonlyhaseyesforMissSteele,andIgivehimawitheringlookthatsendshiminretreatfromtheopulentdiningroom.AnolderwaiterseatsAnaanddrapesanapkinonherlap.
“I’veorderedalready.Ihopeyoudon’tmind.”“No,that’sfine,”shesayswithagraciousnod.“It’sgoodtoknowthatyoucanbeamenable.”Ismirk.“Now,wherewerewe?”“Thenitty-gritty,”shesays,focusedonthetaskathand,butthenshetakesalargegulpofwineand
her cheeks color. She must be looking for courage. I’ll have to watch how much she’s drinking,becauseshe’sdriving.
Shecouldalwaysspendthenighthere…thenIcouldpeelheroutofthatenticingdress.Regainingmy focus, I return to business—Ana’s issues. From the inside pocket ofmy jacket I
retrievehere-mail.Shesquareshershouldersoncemoreandgivesmeanexpectantlook,andIhavetohidemyamusement.“Clausetwo.Agreed.Thisisforthebenefitofusboth.Ishallredraft.”
Shetakesanothersip.“Mysexualhealth?Well,allofmypreviouspartnershavehadbloodtests,andIhaveregulartests
everysixmonthsforallthehealthrisksyoumention.Allmyrecenttestsareclear.Ihavenevertakendrugs.Infact,I’mvehementlyantidrug.Ihaveastrictno-tolerancepolicywithregardstodrugsforallmyemployees,andIinsistonrandomdrugtesting.”
Infact,oneofthepeopleIfiredtodayfailedhisdrugtest.She’s shocked, but I plow on. “I’ve never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your
question?”Shenods.“YournextpointImentionedearlier.Youcanwalkawayanytime,Anastasia.Iwon’tstopyou.If
yougo,however—that’sit.Justsoyouknow.”No.Second.Chances.Ever.“Okay,”shereplies,thoughshedoesn’tsoundcertain.Weboth fall silentas thewaiterenterswithourappetizers.Foramoment Iwonder if I should
haveheldthismeetingatmyoffice,thendismissthethoughtasridiculous.Onlyfoolsmixbusinesswithpleasure. I’vekeptmyworkandprivate life separate; it’soneofmygoldenrules,and theonlyexceptiontothatismyrelationshipwithElena…butthenshehelpedmestartmybusiness.
“Ihopeyoulikeoysters,”IremarktoAnaasthewaiterleaves.“I’veneverhadone.”“Really?Well.Allyoudoistipandswallow.Ithinkyoucanmanagethat.”Istarepointedlyather
mouth,rememberinghowwellshecanswallow.OncuesheblushesandIsqueezelemonjuiceontheshellfish and tip it intomymouth. “Hmm,delicious.Tastesof the sea.” I grin as shewatchesme,fascinated.“Goon,”Iencourageher,knowingthatshe’snotonetobackdownfromachallenge.
“So,Idon’tchewit?”“No,Anastasia,youdon’t.”AndItrynottothinkaboutherteethtoyingwithmyfavoritepartof
myanatomy.Shepressesthemintoherbottomlip,leavinglittleindentationmarks.Damn.The sight stirsmybodyand I shift inmychair.She reaches for anoyster, squeezes the
lemon,holdsbackherhead,andopenswide.Asshetipstheoysterintohermouthmybodyhardens.“Well?”Iask,andIsoundalittlehoarse.“I’llhaveanother,”shesayswithwryhumor.“Goodgirl.”She asks me if I’ve chosen oysters deliberately, knowing their reputed aphrodisiac qualities. I
surpriseherwhenItellhertheyweresimplyatthetopofthemenu.“Idon’tneedanaphrodisiacnearyou.”
Yeah,Icouldfuckyourightnow.Behave,Grey.Getthisnegotiationbackontrack.“Sowherewerewe?” I return to her e-mail and concentrate on her outstanding issues.Clause
nine.“Obeymeinallthings.Yes,Iwantyoutodothat.”Thisisimportanttome.Ineedtoknowshe’ssafeandwilldoanythingforme.“Ineedyoutodothat.Thinkofitasrole-play,Anastasia.”
“ButI’mworriedyou’llhurtme.”
“Hurtyouhow?”“Physically.”“DoyoureallythinkIwoulddothat?Gobeyondanylimityoucan’ttake?”“You’vesaidyou’vehurtsomeonebefore.”“Yes,Ihave.Itwasalongtimeago.”“Howdidyouhurther?”“I suspendedher frommyplayroomceiling. In fact, that’soneof yourquestions.Suspension—
that’swhatthekarabinersareforintheplayroom.Ropeplay.Oneoftheropeswastiedtootightly.”Appalled,sheholdsupherhandinapleaformetostop.Toomuchinformation.“Idon’tneedtoknowanymore.Soyouwon’tsuspendme,then?”sheasks.“Notifyoureallydon’twantto.Youcanmakethatahardlimit.”“Okay.”Sheexhales,relieved.Moveon,Grey.“So,obeying,doyouthinkyoucanmanagethat?”She stares atmewith thoseeyes that see through tomydark soul, and Idon’t knowwhat she’s
goingtosay.Shit.Thiscouldbetheend.“Icouldtry,”shesays,hervoicelow.It’smyturntoexhale.I’mstillinthegame.“Good.”“Nowterm.”Clauseeleven.“Onemonthinsteadofthreeisnotimeatall,especiallyifyouwanta
weekendawayfrommeeachmonth.”We’llgetnowhereinthattime.SheneedstrainingandIcan’tstay away fromher for any length of time. I tell her asmuch.Maybewe can compromise, as shesuggested.“Howaboutonedayoveroneweekendpermonthyougettoyourself—butIgetamidweeknightthatweek?”
Iwatchherweighingthepossibility.“Okay,”shesayseventually,herexpressionserious.Good.“Andplease,let’stryitforthreemonths.Ifit’snotforyou,thenyoucanwalkawayanytime.”“Threemonths,”shesays.Issheagreeing?I’lltakeitasa“yes.”Right.Heregoes.“Theownershipthing,that’sjustterminologyandgoesbacktotheprincipleofobeying.It’stoget
youintotherightframeofmind,tounderstandwhereI’mcomingfrom.AndIwantyoutoknowthatassoonasyoucrossmythresholdasmysubmissive,IwilldowhatIliketoyou.Youhavetoacceptthat, and willingly. That’s why you have to trust me. I will fuck you, anytime, any way I want—anywhereIwant.Iwilldisciplineyou,becauseyouwillscrewup.Iwilltrainyoutopleaseme.
“ButIknowyou’venotdonethisbefore.Initially,we’ll takeitslowly,andIwillhelpyou.We’llbuilduptovariousscenarios.Iwantyoutotrustme,butIknowIhavetoearnyourtrust,andIwill.The‘orotherwise’—again,it’stohelpyougetintothemind-set;itmeansanythinggoes.”
Somespeech,Grey.Shesitsback—overwhelmed,Ithink.
“Still with me?” I ask, gently. The waiter sneaks into the room, and with a nod I give himpermissiontoclearourtable.
“Wouldyoulikesomemorewine?”Iaskher.“Ihavetodrive.”Goodanswer.“Somewater,then?”Shenods.“Stillorsparkling?”“Sparkling,please.”Thewaiterleaveswithourplates.“You’reveryquiet,”Iwhisper.She’sbarelysaidaword.“You’reveryverbose,”sheshootsstraightbackatme.Fairpoint,MissSteele.Nowforthenextitemonherlistofissues:clausefifteen.Itakeadeepbreath.“Discipline.There’s
avery fine linebetweenpleasureandpain,Anastasia.Theyare twosidesof thesamecoin,onenotexistingwithouttheother.Icanshowyouhowpleasurablepaincanbe.Youdon’tbelievemenow,butthis is what Imean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can’t handle.” I cannotemphasizethisenough.“Again,itcomesdowntotrust.Doyoutrustme,Ana?”
“Yes,Ido,”shesaysimmediately.Herresponseknocksmesideways:it’scompletelyunexpected.Again.HaveIgainedhertrustalready?“Well,then,therestofthisstuffisjustdetails.”Ifeeltenfeettall.“Importantdetails.”She’sright.Concentrate,Grey.“Okay,let’stalkthroughthose.”Thewaiterreenterswithourentrées.“Ihopeyoulikefish,”Isay,asheplacesourfoodbeforeus.Theblackcodlooksdelicious.Ana
takesabite.Finally,she’seating!“Therules,”Icontinue.“Let’stalkaboutthem.Thefoodisadealbreaker?”“Yes.”“CanImodifytosaythatyouwilleatatleastthreemealsaday?”“No.”Suppressinganirritatedsigh,Ipersist.“Ineedtoknowthatyou’renothungry.”Shefrowns.“You’llhavetotrustme.”“Oh,touché,MissSteele,”Imuttertomyself.ThesearebattlesI’mnotgoingtowin.“Iconcede
thefoodandthesleep.”Shegivesmeasmall,relievedsmile.“Whycan’tIlookatyou?”sheasks.
“That’saDom/subthing.You’llgetusedtoit.”Shefrownsoncemore,butlookspainedthistime.“Whycan’tItouchyou?”sheasks.“Becauseyoucan’t.”Shutherdown,Grey.“IsitbecauseofMrs.Robinson?”What?“Whywouldyouthinkthat?Youthinkshetraumatizedme?”Shenods.“No,Anastasia.She’snotthereason.Besides,Mrs.Robinsonwouldn’ttakeanyofthatshitfrom
me.”“Sonothingtodowithher,”sheasks,lookingconfused.“No.”Ican’tbeartobetouched.And,baby,youreallydon’twanttoknowwhy.“AndIdon’twantyoutouchingyourself,either,”Iadd.“Outofcuriosity,why?”“BecauseIwantallyourpleasure.”Infact,Iwantitnow.Icouldfuckherheretoseeifshecanbequiet.Realquiet,knowingwe’re
withinearshotofthehotelstaffandguests.Afterall,that’swhyI’vebookedthisroom.Sheopenshermouthasiftosaysomething,butclosesitagainandtakesanotherbiteoffoodfrom
herlargelyuntouchedplate.“I’vegivenyouagreatdealtothinkabout,haven’tI?”Isay,foldinguphere-mailandtuckingitintomyinsidepocket.
“Yes.”“Doyouwanttogothroughthesoftlimitsnow,too?”“Notoverdinner.”“Squeamish?”“Somethinglikethat.”“You’venoteatenverymuch.”“I’vehadenough.”Thisisgettingold.“Threeoysters,fourbitesofcod,andoneasparagusstalk,nopotatoes,nonuts,
noolives,andyou’venoteatenallday.YousaidIcouldtrustyou.”Hereyeswiden.Yeah.I’vebeenkeepingcount,Ana.“Christian,please,it’snoteverydayIsitthroughconversationslikethis.”“Ineedyoufitandhealthy,Anastasia.”Mytoneisadamant.“Iknow.”“Andrightnow,Iwanttopeelyououtofthatdress.”“Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea,”shewhispers.“Wehaven’thaddessert.”“Youwantdessert?”Whenyouhaven’teatenyourmaincourse?“Yes.”
“Youcouldbedessert.”“I’mnotsureI’msweetenough.”“Anastasia,you’redeliciouslysweet.Iknow.”“Christian.Youusesexasaweapon.Itreallyisn’tfair.”Shelooksdownatherlap,andhervoiceis
lowandalittlemelancholy.Shelooksupagain,pinningmewithanintensestare,herpowder-blueeyesunnerving…andarousing.
“You’re right. Ido,” Iadmit.“In lifeyouusewhatyouknow.Doesn’tchangehowmuchIwantyou.Here.Now.”Andwecouldfuckhere,rightnow. Iknowyou’reinterested,Ana.Ihearhowyourbreathinghaschanged.“I’dliketotrysomething.”Ireallywanttoknowhowquietshecanbe,andifshecandothiswiththefearofdiscovery.
Herbrowcreasesoncemore;she’sconfused.“Ifyouweremysub,youwouldn’thavetothinkaboutthis.Itwouldbeeasy.Allthosedecisions—
allthewearyingthoughtprocessesbehindthem.The‘Isthistherightthingtodo?Shouldthishappenhere?Canithappennow?’Youwouldn’thavetoworryaboutanyofthatdetail.That’swhatI’ddoasyourDom.Andrightnow,Iknowyouwantme,Anastasia.”
Shetossesherhairoverhershoulder,andherfrownintensifiesasshelicksherlips.Ohyes.Shewantsme.“Icantellbecauseyourbodygivesyouaway.You’repressingyourthighstogether,you’reflushed,
andyourbreathinghaschanged.”“Howdoyouknowaboutmythighs?”sheasks,hervoicehigh-pitched,shocked,Ithink.“I felt the tableclothmove, and it’s a calculated guess based on years of experience. I’m right,
aren’tI?”She’squiet foramomentandlooksaway.“Ihaven’t finishedmycod,”shesays,evasivebutstill
blushing.“You’dprefercoldcodtome?”Hereyesmeetmine,andthey’rewide,pupilsdarkandlarge.“Ithoughtyoulikedmetoclearmy
plate.”“Rightnow,MissSteele,Icouldn’tgiveafuckaboutyourfood.”“Christian.Youjustdon’tfightfair.”“Iknow.Ineverhave.”Westareateachotherinabattleofwills,bothawareofthesexualtensionstretchingbetweenus
acrossthetable.Please,wouldyoujustdoasyou’retold?Iimploreherwithalook.Buthereyesglintwithsensual
disobedience and a smile lifts her lips. Still holdingmy stare, shepicksup an asparagus spear anddeliberatelybitesherlip.
Whatisshedoing?Veryslowly,sheplacesthetipofthespearinhermouthandsucksit.Fuck.She’striflingwithme—adangeroustacticthatwillhavemefuckingheroverthistable.
Oh,bringiton,MissSteele.Iwatch,mesmerized,hardeningbythesecond.“Anastasia.Whatareyoudoing?”Iwarn.“Eatingmyasparagus,”shesayswithacoysmile.“Ithinkyou’retoyingwithme,MissSteele.”“I’mjustfinishingmyfood,Mr.Grey.”Herlipscurlwider,slowly,carnal,andtheheatbetween
usrisesseveraldegrees.Shereallyhasnoideahowsexysheis…I’mabouttopouncewhenthewaiterknocksandenters.
Damnit.Ilethimcleartheplates,thenturnmyattentionbacktoMissSteele.Butherfrownisback,and
she’sfidgetingwithherfingers.Hell.“Wouldyoulikesomedessert?”Iask.“Nothankyou.IthinkIshouldgo,”shesays,stillstaringatherhands.“Go?”She’sleaving?Thewaiterexitsquicklywithourplates.“Yes,” Ana says, her voice firmwith resolve. She gets to her feet to leave. And automatically I
stand,too.“Webothhavethegraduationceremonytomorrow,”shesays.Thisisnotgoingaccordingtoplanatall.“Idon’twantyoutogo,”Istate,becauseit’sthetruth.“Please,Ihaveto,”sheinsists.“Why?”“Becauseyou’vegivenmesomuchtoconsider,andIneedsomedistance.”Hereyesarepleading
withmetolethergo.Butwe’vegottensofar inournegotiation.We’vemadecompromises.Wecanmakethiswork.I
havetomakethiswork.“Icouldmakeyoustay,”Itellher,knowingthatIcouldseduceherrightnow,inthisroom.“Yes,youcouldeasily,butIdon’twantyouto.”Thisisallgoingsouth—I’veoverplayedmyhand.Thisisn’thowIthoughtthenightwouldend.I
rakemyhandsthroughmyhairinfrustration.“Youknow,whenyoufellintomyofficetointerviewme,youwereall‘Yes,sir,’‘No,sir.’Ithought
youwereanatural-bornsubmissive.Butquitefrankly,Anastasia,I’mnotsureyouhaveasubmissiveboneinyourdelectablebody.”Iwalkthefewstepsthatseparateusandlookdownintoeyesthatshinewithdetermination.
“Youmayberight,”shesays.No.No.Idon’twanttoberight.“Iwantthechancetoexplorethepossibilitythatyoudo.”Icaressherfaceandherlowerlipwith
mythumb.“Idon’tknowanyotherway,Anastasia.ThisiswhoIam.”“Iknow,”shesays.
Loweringmyheadsomylipshoveroverhers,Iwaituntilsheraiseshermouthtomineandcloseshereyes. Iwant togiveherabrief,chastekiss,butasour lips touch,sheleans in tome,herhandssuddenly fistinginmyhair,hermouthopeningtome,her tongueinsistent.Ipressmyhandtothebaseofherspine,holdingheragainstme,anddeepenthekiss,mirroringherfervor.
Christ,Iwanther.“Ican’tpersuadeyou to stay?” Iwhisperagainst thecornerofhermouth,asmybody responds,
hardeningwithdesire.“No.”“Spendthenightwithme.”“Andnottouchyou?No.”Damn.Thedarknessuncoilsinmyguts,butIignoreit.“You impossible girl,” I mutter, and pull back, examining her face and her tense, brooding
expression.“WhydoIthinkyou’retellingmegood-bye?”“BecauseI’mleavingnow.”“That’snotwhatImean,andyouknowit.”“Christian,Ihavetothinkaboutthis.Idon’tknowifIcanhavethekindofrelationshipyouwant.”Iclosemyeyesandrestmyforeheadagainsthers.Whatdidyouexpect,Grey?She’snotcutoutforthis.I take a deep breath and kiss her forehead, then burymy nose in her hair, inhaling her sweet,
autumnalscentandcommittingittomemory.That’sit.Enough.Steppingback,Ireleaseher.“Asyouwish,MissSteele.I’llescortyoutothelobby.”Iholdoutmy
hand forwhatcouldbe the last time,andI’msurprisedhowpainful this thought is.Sheplacesherhandinmine,andinsilenceweheaddowntoreception.
“Do you have your valet ticket?” I ask as we reach the lobby. I sound calm and collected, butinsideI’minknots.
Fromherpursesheretrievestheticket,whichIhandtothedoorman.“Thankyoufordinner,”shesays.“It’sapleasureasalways,MissSteele.”This cannotbe theend. Ihave to showher—demonstratewhat this allmeans,whatwecando
together.Showherwhatwecandointheplayroom.Thenshe’llknow.Thismightbetheonlywaytosave thisdeal.Quickly I turn toher.“You’removing thisweekend toSeattle. Ifyoumake therightdecision,canIseeyouonSunday?”Iask.
“We’llsee.Maybe,”shesays.That’snota“no.”Inoticethegoosebumpsonherarms.“It’scoolernow,don’tyouhaveajacket?”Iask.“No.”Thiswomanneedslookingafter.Itakeoffmyjacket.“Here.Idon’twantyoucatchingcold.”Islip
itoverhershouldersandshehugsitaroundherself,closeshereyes,andinhalesdeeply.Isshedrawntomyscent?LikeIamtohers?Perhapsallisnotlost?ThevaletpullsupinanancientVWBeetle.Whatthehellisthat?“That’swhatyoudrive?”ThismustbeolderthanGrandpaTheodore.Jesus!Thevalethandsover
thekeysandItiphimgenerously.Hedeservesdangerpay.“Isthisroadworthy?”IglareatAna.Howcanshebesafeinthisrustbucket?“Yes.”“WillitmakeittoSeattle?”“Yes.Shewill.”“Safely?”“Yes.”Shetriestoreassureme.“Okay,she’sold.Butshe’smine,andshe’sroadworthy.Mystepdad
boughtitforme.”WhenIsuggestthatwecoulddobetterthanthissherealizeswhatI’mofferingandherexpression
changesimmediately.She’smad.“Youarenotbuyingmeacar,”shesaysemphatically.“We’ll see,” Imutter, trying tokeepcalm. Iholdopen thedriver’sdoor, andas sheclimbs in I
wonderifIshouldaskTaylortotakeherhome.Damn.Irememberthathe’soffthisevening.OnceI’veshutthedoor,sherollsdownthewindow…painfullyslowly.ForChrist’ssake!“Drivesafely,”Igrowl.“Good-bye,Christian,”shesays,andhervoicefalters,asifshe’stryingnottocry.Shit.Mywholemoodshiftsfromirritationandconcernforherwell-beingtohelplessnessasher
carroarsoffupthestreet.Idon’tknowifI’llseeheragain.Istandlikeafoolonthesidewalkuntilherrearlightsdisappearintothenight.Fuck.Whydidthatgosowrong?Istalkbackintothehotel,makeforthebar,andorderabottleoftheSancerre.Takingitwithme,
Iheaduptomyroom.Mylaptopliesopenonmydesk,andbeforeIuncorkthewine,Isitdownandstarttypingane-mail.
From:ChristianGreySubject:TonightDate:May25201122:01
To:AnastasiaSteele
Idon’tunderstandwhyyouranthisevening.IsincerelyhopeIansweredallyourquestionstoyoursatisfaction.I
knowIhavegivenyouagreatdealtocontemplate,andIferventlyhopethatyouwillgivemyproposalyour
seriousconsideration.Ireallywanttomakethiswork.Wewilltakeitslow.
Trustme.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Iglanceatmywatch.Itwilltakeheratleasttwentyminutestogethome,probablylongerinthatdeathtrap.Ie-mailTaylor.
From:ChristianGreySubject:AudiA3Date:May25201122:04
To:JBTaylor
IneedthatAudideliveredheretomorrow.
Thanks.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
OpeningtheSancerre,Ipourmyselfaglass,andpickingupmybook,Isitandread,tryinghardtoconcentrate.Myeyeskeepstrayingtomylaptopscreen.Whenwillshereply?
Astheminutestickby,myanxietyballoons;whyhasn’tshereturnedmye-mail?At11:00,Itexther.
Areyouhomesafe?
ButIgetnothinginresponse.Perhapsshe’sgonestraighttobed.BeforemidnightIsendanothere-mail.
From:ChristianGreySubject:TonightDate:May25201123:58
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ihopeyoumadeithomeinthatcarofyours.
Letmeknowifyou’reokay.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
I’llseehertomorrowatthegraduationceremonyandI’llfindoutthenifshe’sturningmedown.
WiththatdepressingthoughtIstripandclimbintobedandstareattheceiling.You’vereallyfuckedupthisdeal,Grey.
THURSDAY,MAY26,2011
Mommyisgone.Sometimesshegoesoutside.Anditisonlyme.Meandmycarsandmyblankie.Whenshecomeshomeshesleepsonthecouch.Thecouchisbrownandsticky.Sheistired.SometimesIcoverherwithmyblankie.Orshecomeshomewithsomethingtoeat.Ilikethosedays.Wehavebreadandbutter.Andsometimeswehavemacramiandcheese.Thatismyfavorite.TodayMommyisgone.Iplaywithmycars.Theygofastonthefloor.Mymommyisgone.Shewillcomeback.Shewill.WhenisMommycominghome?Itisdarknow,andmymommyisgone.IcanreachthelightwhenIstandonthestool.On.Off.On.Off.On.Off.Light.Dark.Light.Dark.Light.I’mhungry.Ieatthecheese.Thereischeeseinthefridge.Cheesewithbluefur.WhenisMommycominghome?Sometimesshecomeshomewithhim.Ihatehim.Ihidewhenhecomes.Myfavoriteplaceisinmymommy’scloset.ItsmellsofMommy.ItsmellsofMommywhenshe’shappy.WhenisMommycominghome?Mybediscold.AndIamhungry.Ihavemyblankieandmycarsbutnotmymommy.WhenisMommycominghome?
Iwakewithastart.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Ihatemydreams.They’reriddledwithharrowingmemories,distortedremindersofatimeIwant
to forget.My heart is pounding and I’m drenchedwith sweat. But theworst consequence of thesenightmaresisdealingwiththeoverwhelminganxietywhenIwake.
My nightmares have recently become more frequent, and more vivid. I have no idea why.DamnedFlynn—he’snotbackuntil sometimenextweek. I runbothofmyhands throughmyhairandcheckthetime.It’s5:38,andthedawnlightisseepingthroughthecurtains.It’snearlytimetogetup.
Goforarun,Grey.
THEREISSTILLNOtextore-mailfromAna.Asmyfeetpoundthesidewalk,myanxietygrows.Leaveit,Grey.
Justfuckingleaveit!IknowI’llseeheratthegraduationceremony.ButIcan’tleaveit.Beforemyshower,Isendheranothertext.
Callme.
Ijustneedtoknowshe’ssafe.
AFTERBREAKFASTTHERE’SSTILLnowordfromAna.TogetheroutofmyheadIworkforacoupleofhoursonmycommencementspeech.AtthegraduationceremonylaterthismorningI’llbehonoringtheextraordinaryworkof the environmental sciencesdepartment and theprogress they’vemade inpartnershipwithGEHinarabletechnologyfordevelopingcountries.
“Allpartofyourfeed-the-worldplan?”Ana’sshrewdwordsechoinmyhead,andtheynudgeatlastnight’snightmare.
IshrugitoffasIrewrite.Sam,myVPforpublicity,hassentadraftthatiswaytoopretentiousforme.Ittakesmeanhourtoreworkhismedia-speakbullshitintosomethingmorehuman.
NinethirtyandstillnowordfromAna.Herradiosilenceisworrying—andfranklyrude.Icall,butherphonegoesstraighttoagenericvoicemailmessage.
Ihangup.Showsomedignity,Grey.There’sapinginmyinbox,andmyheartbeatspikes—butit’sfromMia.Inspiteofmybadmood,
Ismile.I’vemissedthatkid.
From:MiaG.ChefExtraordinaire
Subject:FlightsDate:May26201118:32GMT-1
To:ChristianGrey
Hey,Christian,
Ican’twaittogetoutofhere!
Rescueme.Please.
MyflightnumberonSaturdayisAF3622.Itarrivesat12:22p.m.andDadismakingmeflycoach!*pouting!
Iwillhavelotsofluggage.Love.Love.LoveParisfashion.
Momsaysyouhaveagirlfriend.
Isthistrue?
What’sshelike?
INEEDTOKNOW!!!!!
SeeyouSaturday.Missedyousomuch.
Àbientôtmonfrère.
Mxxxxxxxxx
Ohhell!Mymother’sbigmouth.Anaisnotmygirlfriend!AndcomeSaturdayI’llhavetofendoffmy sister’s equally big mouth and her inherent optimism and her prying questions. She can beexhausting.Makingamentalnoteoftheflightnumberandtime,IsendMiaaquicke-mailtoletherknowI’llbethere.
At9:45Igetreadyfortheceremony.Graysuit,whiteshirt,andofcoursethat tie.ItwillbemysubtlemessagetoAnathatIhaven’tgivenup,andareminderofgoodtimes.
Yeah,realgoodtimes…imagesofherboundandwantingcometomind.Damnit.Whyhasn’tshecalled?Ipressredial.
Shit.Stillnofuckinganswer!At10:00precisely,there’saknockonmydoor.It’sTaylor.“Goodmorning,”Isay,ashecomesin.“Mr.Grey.”“Howwasyesterday?”“Good, sir.” Taylor’s demeanor shifts, and his expression warms. He must be thinking of his
daughter.“Sophie?”“She’sadoll,sir.Anddoingverywellatschool.”“That’sgreattohear.”“TheA3willbeinPortlandlaterthisafternoon.”“Excellent.Let’sgo.”AndthoughI’mloathtoadmitit,I’manxioustoseeMissSteele.
THECHANCELLOR’SSECRETARYUSHERSme intoa small roomadjacent to theWSUauditorium.Sheblushes, almost as much as a certain young woman I know intimately. There, in the greenroom,academics,administrativestaff,andafewstudentsarehavingpre-graduationcoffee.Amongthem,tomysurprise,isKatherineKavanagh.
“Hi,Christian,”shesays,struttingtowardmewiththeconfidenceofthewell-heeled.She’sinhergraduationgownandappearscheerfulenough;surelyshe’sseenAna.
“Hi,Katherine.Howareyou?”“Youseembaffledtoseemehere,”shesays,ignoringmygreetingandsoundingalittleaffronted.
“I’mvaledictorian.Didn’tElliottellyou?”“No,hedidn’t.”We’renot ineachother’spockets, forChrist’s sake. “Congratulations,” Iaddasa
courtesy.“Thankyou.”Hertoneisclipped.“IsAnahere?”“Soon.She’scomingwithherdad.”“Yousawherthismorning?”“Yes.Why?”
“Iwantedtoknowifshemadeithomeinthatdeathtrapshecallsacar.”“Wanda.ShecallsitWanda.Andyes,shedid.”Shegazesatmewithaquizzicalexpression.“I’mgladtohearit.”Atthatpointthechancellorjoinsus,andwithapolitesmiletoKavanagh,escortsmeovertomeet
theotheracademics.I’mrelievedthatAnaisinonepiece,butpissedthatshehasn’trepliedtoanyofmymessages.It’snotagoodsign.But Idon’thave long todwellon thisdiscouragingstateofaffairs—oneof the facultymembers
announcesit’stimetobeginandherdsusoutintothecorridor.In amoment ofweakness I try Ana’s phone oncemore. It goes straight to voicemail, and I’m
interruptedbyKavanagh.“I’mlookingforwardtoyourcommencementaddress,”shesaysaswewalkdownthehallway.
WhenwereachtheauditoriumInoticeit’slargerthanIexpected,andpacked.Theaudience,asone,risesandapplaudsaswefileontothestage.Theclappingintensifies,thenslowlysubsidestoanexpectantbuzzaseveryonetakestheirseats.
Once thechancellorbeginshiswelcomeaddress I’mable to scan the room.The front rowsarefilledwithstudents,inidenticalblack-and-redWSUrobes.Whereisshe?MethodicallyIinspecteachrow.
Thereyouare.Ifindherhuddledinthesecondrow.She’salive.Ifeelfoolishforexpendingsomuchanxietyand
energyonherwhereaboutslastnightandthismorning.Herbrilliantblueeyesarewideastheylockwithmine,andsheshiftsinherseat,aslowflushcoloringhercheeks.
Yes. I’ve found you. And you haven’t replied tomymessages. She’s avoidingme and I’m pissed.Really pissed. Closing my eyes, I imagine dripping hot wax onto her breasts and her squirmingbeneathme.Thishasaradicaleffectonmybody.
Shit.Getittogether,Grey.Dismissingherfrommymind,Imarshalmylasciviousthoughtsandconcentrateonthespeeches.Kavanaghgivesan inspiringaddressaboutembracingopportunities—yes,carpediem,Kate—and
getsarousingreceptionwhenshe’sfinished.She’sobviouslysmartandpopularandconfident.Nottheshy and retiring wallflower that is the lovelyMiss Steele. It really amazes me that these two arefriends.
Ihearmynameannounced; thechancellorhas introducedme. I riseandapproach the lectern.Showtime,Grey.
“I’mprofoundlygratefulandtouchedbythegreatcomplimentaccordedtomebytheauthoritiesofWSUtoday.Itoffersmearareopportunitytotalkabouttheimpressiveworkoftheenvironmentalsciencesdepartmenthereattheuniversity.Ouraimistodevelopviableandecologicallysustainablemethods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger andpovertyacrosstheglobe.Overabillionpeople,mainlyinsub-SaharanAfrica,SouthAsia,andLatinAmerica,liveinabjectpoverty.Agriculturaldysfunctionisrifewithinthesepartsoftheworld,andthe
resultisecologicalandsocialdestruction.Ihaveknownwhatit’sliketobeprofoundlyhungry.Thisisaverypersonaljourneyforme.
“As partners, WSU and GEH have made tremendous progress in soil fertility and arabletechnology.We are pioneering low-input systems in developing countries, and our test sites haveincreasedcropyieldsup to thirtypercentperhectare.WSUhasbeen instrumental in this fantasticachievement.AndGEHisproudofthosestudentswhojoinusthroughinternshipstoworkatourtestsites inAfrica.Thework theydo therebenefits the localcommunitiesandthestudents themselves.Togetherwecanfighthungerandtheabjectpovertythatblightstheseregions.
“But in this age of technological evolution, as the first world races ahead, widening the gapbetween thehaves and thehave-nots, it’s vital to remember thatwemustnot squander theworld’sfinite resources. These resources are for all humanity, andwe need to harness them, findways ofrenewingthem,anddevelopnewsolutionstofeedouroverpopulatedplanet.
“AsI’vesaid,theworkthatGEHandWSUaredoingtogetherwillprovidesolutions,andit’sourjobtogetthemessageoutthere.It’s throughGEH’stelecommunicationsdivisionthatweintendtosupply information and education to the developing world. I’m proud to say that we’re makingimpressive progress in solar technology, battery life, and wireless distribution that will bring theInternet to the remotestpartsof theworld—andourgoal is tomake it free tousers at thepointofdelivery. Access to education and information, which we take for granted here, is the crucialcomponentforendingpovertyinthesedevelopingregions.
“We’re lucky.We’re all privileged here. Somemore than others, and I includemyself in thatcategory.Wehaveamoralobligationtoofferthoselessfortunateadecentlifethat’shealthy,secure,andwellnourished,withaccesstomoreoftheresourcesthatweallenjoyhere.
“I’ll leave youwith a quote that has always resonatedwithme. And I’m paraphrasing aNativeAmerican saying: ‘Onlywhen the last leaf has fallen, the last tree has died, and the last fish beencaughtwillwerealizethatwecannoteatmoney.’ ”
AsIsitdowntorousingapplause,IresistlookingatAnaandexaminetheWSUbannerhangingatthebackoftheauditorium.Ifshewantstoignoreme,fine.Twocanplayatthatgame.
Thevicechancellorrisestocommencehandingoutthedegrees.AndsobeginstheagonizingwaituntilwereachtheS’sandIcanseeheragain.
AfteraneternityIhearhernamecalled:“AnastasiaSteele.”Arippleofapplause,andshe’swalkingtowardmelookingpensiveandworried.
Shit.Whatisshethinking?Holdittogether,Grey.“Congratulations,MissSteele,”IsayasIgiveAnaherdegree.Weshakehands,butIdon’tlethers
go.“Doyouhaveaproblemwithyourlaptop?”Shelooksperplexed.“No.”“Thenyouareignoringmye-mails?”Ireleaseher.“Ionlysawthemergersandacquisitionsone.”Whatthehelldoesthatmean?
Herfrowndeepens,butIhavetolethergo—there’salineformingbehindher.“Later.”Iletherknowthatwe’renotfinishedwiththisconversationasshemoveson.I’minpurgatorybythetimewe’vereachedtheendoftheline.I’vebeenogled,andhadeyelashes
battedatme,sillygigglinggirlssqueezingmyhand,andfivenoteswithphonenumberspressedintomy palm. I’m relieved as I exit the stage along with the faculty, to the strains of some drearyprocessionalmusicandapplause.
InthecorridorIgrabKavanagh’sarm.“IneedtospeaktoAna.Canyoufindher?Now.”Kavanaghistakenaback,butbeforeshecansayanythingIadd,inaspoliteatoneasIcanmanage,
“Please.”Her lips thin with disapproval, but she waits withme as the academics file past and then she
returnstotheauditorium.Thechancellorstopstocongratulatemeonmyspeech.“Itwasanhonortobeasked,”Irespond,shakinghishandonceagain.Outofthecornerofmyeye
IspyKateinthecorridor—withAnaatherside.Excusingmyself,IstridetowardAna.“Thankyou,”IsaytoKate,whogivesAnaaworriedglance.Ignoringher,ItakeAna’selbowand
leadherthroughthefirstdoorIfind.It’samen’slockerroom,andfromthefreshsmellIcantellit’sempty.Locking thedoor, I turn to faceMissSteele. “Whyhaven’t youe-mailedme?Or textedmeback?”Idemand.
She blinks a couple of times, consternation writ large on her face. “I haven’t looked at mycomputer today,ormyphone.”She seemsgenuinelybewilderedbymyoutburst. “Thatwasagreatspeech,”sheadds.
“Thankyou,”Imutter,derailed.Howcanshenothavecheckedherphoneore-mail?“Explainsyourfoodissuestome,”shesays,hertonegentle—andifI’mnotmistaken,pitying,too.“Anastasia,Idon’twanttogothereatthemoment.”Idon’tneedyourpity.I closemyeyes.All this time I thought shedidn’twant to talk tome. “I’vebeenworriedabout
you.”“Worried,why?”“Becauseyouwenthomeinthatdeathtrapyoucallacar.”AndIthoughtI’dblownthedealbetweenus.Anabristles.“What?It’snotadeathtrap.It’sfine.Joséregularlyservicesitforme.”“José,thephotographer?”Thisjustgetsbetterandfuckingbetter.“Yes,theBeetleusedtobelongtohismother.”“Yes,andprobablyhermotherandhermotherbeforeher.It’snotsafe.”I’malmostshouting.“I’vebeendrivingitforoverthreeyears.I’msorryyouwereworried.Whydidn’tyoucall?”Icalledhercellphone.Doesshenotuseherdamnedcellphone?Isshetalkingaboutthehouse
phone? Running my hand through my hair in exasperation, I take a deep breath. This is notaddressingthefuckingelephantintheroom.
“Anastasia,Ineedananswerfromyou.Thiswaitingaroundisdrivingmecrazy.”Herfacefalls.
Shit.“Christian,I…look,I’veleftmystepdadonhisown.”“Tomorrow.Iwantananswerbytomorrow.”“Okay.Tomorrow,I’lltellyouthen,”shesayswithananxiouslook.Well,it’sstillnota“no.”Andoncemore,I’msurprisedbymyrelief.Whatthehellisitaboutthiswoman?Shestaresupatmewithsincereblueeyes,herfaceetched
inconcern,andIresisttheurgetotouchher.“Areyoustayingfordrinks?”Iask.“Idon’tknowwhatRaywantstodo.”Shelooksuncertain.“Yourstepfather?I’dliketomeethim.”Heruncertaintymagnifies.“I’mnotsurethat’sagoodidea,”shesaysdarkly,asIunlockthedoor.What?Why?IsthisbecauseshenowknowsIwasdirt-poorasakid?OrbecausesheknowshowI
liketofuck?ThatI’mafreak?“Areyouashamedofme?”“No!”sheexclaims,andsherollshereyesinfrustration.“Introduceyoutomydadaswhat?”She
raisesherhandsinexasperation.“ ‘ThisisthemanwhodefloweredmeandwantsustostartaBDSMrelationship’?You’renotwearingrunningshoes.”
Runningshoes?Herdadisgoingtocomeafterme?Andjustlikethatshehasinjectedalittlehumorbetweenus.
Mymouthtwitchesinresponseandshereturnsmysmile,herfacelightinguplikeasummerdawn.“Just so you know, I can run quite fast,” I respond playfully. “Just tell him I’m your friend,
Anastasia.” I open the door and follow her out but stop when I reach the chancellor and hiscolleagues.AsonetheyturnandstareatMissSteele,butshe’sdisappearingintotheauditorium.Theyturnbacktome.
MissSteeleandIarenoneofyourbusiness,people.Igivethechancellorabrief,politenodandheasksifI’llcomeandmeetmoreofhiscolleagues
andenjoysomecanapés.“Sure,”Ireply.Ittakesmethirtyminutestoescapefromthefacultygathering,andasImakemywayoutofthe
crowdedreceptionKavanaghfallsintostepbesideme.Weheadtothelawnwherethegraduatesandtheirfamiliesareenjoyingapost-graduationdrinkinalargetentedpavilion.
“SohaveyouaskedAnatodinneronSunday?”sheasks.Sunday?HasAnamentionedthatwe’reseeingeachotheronSunday?“Atyourparents’house,”Kavanaghexplains.Myparents?IspotAna.Whatthefuck?Atallblondguywholooksasifhe’swalkedoffabeachinCaliforniahashishandsalloverher.Whothehellisthat?Isthiswhyshedidn’twantmetocomeforadrink?Analooksup,catchesmyexpression,andpalesasherroommatestandsbeside thatguy.“Hello,
Ray,”Kavanaghsays,andshekissesamiddle-agedmaninanill-fittingsuitstandingbesideAna.ThismustbeRaymondSteele.“HaveyoumetAna’sboyfriend?”Kavanaghaskshim.“ChristianGrey.”Boyfriend!“Mr.Steele,it’sapleasuretomeetyou.”“Mr.Grey,”hesays,quietlysurprised.Weshakehands;hisgripisfirm,andhisfingersandpalm
areroughtothetouch.Thismanworkswithhishands.ThenIremember—he’sacarpenter.Hisdarkbrowneyesgivenothingaway.
“Andthisismybrother,EthanKavanagh,”saysKate,introducingthebeachbumwhohashisarmwrappedaroundAna.
Ah.TheKavanaghoffspring,together.Imutterhisnameasweshakehands,notingthattheyaresoft,unlikeRaySteele’s.Nowstoppawingmygirl,youfucker.“Ana,baby,”Iwhisper,holdingoutmyhand,andlikethegoodwomansheis,shestepsintomy
embrace.She’s discardedher graduation robe andwears a pale grayhalter-neckdress, exposingherflawlessshouldersandback.
Twodressesintwodays.She’sspoilingme.“Ethan,MomandDadwantedaword.”Kavanaghhaulsherbrotheraway, leavingmewithAna
andherfather.“Sohowlonghaveyoukidsknowneachother?”Mr.Steeleasks.AsIreachacrosstograspAna’sshoulderIgentlytracemythumbacrosshernakedbackandshe
trembles in response. I tell him we’ve known each other for a couple of weeks. “We met whenAnastasiacametointerviewmeforthestudentnewspaper.”
“Didn’tknowyouworkedonthestudentnewspaper,Ana,”Mr.Steelesays.“Katewasill,”shesays.RaySteeleeyeshisdaughterandfrowns.“Finespeechyougave,Mr.Grey,”hesays.“Thankyou,sir.Iunderstandthatyou’reakeenfisherman.”“IndeedIam.Annietellyouthat?”“Shedid.”“Youfish?”There’sasparkofcuriosityinhisbrowneyes.“NotasmuchasI’dliketo.Mydadusedtotakemybrotherandmewhenwewerekids.Forhimit
was all about the steelheads. Guess I caught the bug from him.” Ana listens for amoment, thenexcusesherselfandmovesoffthroughthecrowdtojointheKavanaghclan.
Damn,shelookssensationalinthatdress.“Oh?Whered’youfish?”RaySteele’squestionpullsmebackintotheconversation.Iknowit’sa
test.“AlloverthePacificNorthwest.”“YougrewupinWashington?”“Yes,sir.MydadstartedusontheWynoocheeRiver.”
AsmiletugsatSteele’smouth.“Knowitwell.”“ButhisfavoriteistheSkagit.TheU.S.side.He’dgetusoutofbedatsomeungodlyhourofthe
morningandwe’ddriveupthere.He’scaughtsomemightyfinefishinthatriver.”“That’s some sweet water.Caughtme some rod breakers in the Skagit.On theCanadian side,
mind.”“It’soneofthebeststretchesforwildsteelheads.Giveyouamuchbetterchasethanthosethatare
clipped,”Isay,myeyesonAna.“Couldn’tagreemore.”“Mybrother’scaughtacoupleofwildmonsters.Me,I’mstillwaitingforthebigone.”“Oneday,huh?”“Ihopeso.”AnaisdeepinapassionatediscussionwithKavanagh.Whatarethosetwowomentalkingabout?“Youstillgetoutmuchtofish?”IrefocusonMr.Steele.“Suredo.Annie’sfriendJosé,hisfather,andIsneakoutasoftenaswecan.”Thefuckingphotographer!Again?“He’stheguythatlooksaftertheBeetle?”“Yeah,that’shim.”“Greatcar,theBeetle.I’mafanofGerman-madecars.”“Yeah?Annielovesthatoldcar,butIguessit’sgettingpastitssell-bydate.”“Funnyyoushouldmentionthat.Iwasthinkingofloaningheroneofmycompanycars.Doyou
thinkshe’dgoforit?”“Iguess.ThatwouldbeuptoAnnie,mind.”“Great.ItakeitAna’snotintofishing.”“No.Thatgirltakesafterhermother.Shecouldn’tstomachseeingthefishsuffer.Ortheworms,
for thatmatter. She’s a gentle soul.” He givesme a pointed look.Oh. A warning from RaymondSteele.Iturnitintoajoke.
“Nowondershewasn’tkeenonthecodweatetheotherday.”Steelechuckles.“She’sfinewitheatingthem.”AnahasfinishedtalkingtotheKavanaghsandisheadingourway.“Hi,”shesays,beamingatus.“Annie,wherearetherestrooms?”Steeleasks.Shedirectshimtogooutsidethepavilionandtotheleft.“Seeyouinamoment.Youkidsenjoyyourselves,”hesays.Shewatcheshimgo, thenpeersnervouslyupatme.Butbefore sheor Ican sayanythingwe’re
interruptedbyaphotographer.Shesnapsaquickstillofustogetherbeforehurryingaway.“Soyou’vecharmedmyfatheraswell?”Anasays,hervoicesweetandteasing.“Aswell?”HaveIcharmedyou,MissSteele?WithmyfingersItracetherosyflushthatappearsonhercheek.“Oh,IwishIknewwhatyouwere
thinking, Anastasia.”Whenmy fingers reach her chin I tilt her head back so I can scrutinize her
expression.Shestillsandstaresbackatme,herpupilsdarkening.“Rightnow,”shewhispers,“I’mthinking,nicetie.”Iwasexpectingsomekindofdeclaration;herresponsemakesmelaugh.“It’srecentlybecomemy
favorite.”Shesmiles.“Youlooklovely,Anastasia.Thishalter-neckdresssuitsyou,andIgettostrokeyourback,feelyour
beautifulskin.”Herlipspartandherbreathhitches,andIcanfeelthepulloftheattractionbetweenus.“Youknowit’sgoingtobegood,don’tyou,baby?”Myvoiceislow,betrayingmylonging.Shecloseshereyes,swallows,andtakesadeepbreath.Whensheopensthemagain,she’sradiating
anxiety.“ButIwantmore,”shesays.“More?”Fuck.Whatisthis?Shenods.“More?” I whisper again.Her lip is pliant beneathmy thumb. “You want hearts and flowers.”
Fuck. Itwillneverworkwithher.Howcan it? Idon’tdo romance.Myhopesanddreamsbegin tocrumblebetweenus.
Hereyesarewide,innocent,andbeseeching.Damn.She’ssobeguiling.“Anastasia.It’snotsomethingIknow.”“Me,neither.”Ofcourse;she’sneverhadarelationshipbefore.“Youdon’tknowmuch.”“Youknowallthewrongthings,”shebreathes.“Wrong?Nottome.Tryit,”Iplead.Please.Tryitmyway.Hergazeisintenseasshesearchesmyface,lookingforclues.AndforamomentI’mlostinblue
eyesthatseeeverything.“Okay,”shewhispers.“What?”Everyhaironmybodystandstoattention.“Okay.I’lltry.”“You’reagreeing?”Idon’tbelieveit.“Subjecttothesoftlimits,yes.I’lltry.”Sweet.Lord. Ipullher intomyarmsandwrapher inmyembrace,buryingmyfaceinherhair,
inhaling her seductive scent. And I don’t care that we’re in a crowded space. It’s just her andme.“Jesus,Ana,you’resounexpected.Youtakemybreathaway.”
AmomentlaterI’mawarethatRaymondSteelehasreturnedandisexamininghiswatchtocoverhisembarrassment.Reluctantly,Ireleaseher.I’montopoftheworld.
Dealdone,Grey!“Annie,shouldwegetsomelunch?”Steeleasks.
“Okay,”shesayswithashysmiledirectedatme.“Wouldyouliketojoinus,Christian?”ForamomentI’mtempted,butAna’sanxiousglancein
mydirectionsays,Please,no.Shewantsalonetimewithherdad.Igetit.“Thankyou,Mr.Steele,butIhaveplans.It’sbeengreattomeetyou,sir.”Tryandcontrolyourstupidgrin,Grey.“Likewise,”Steelereplies—sincerely,Ithink.“Lookaftermybabygirl.”“Oh,Ifullyintendto,”Irespond,shakinghishand.Inwaysthatyoucan’tpossiblyimagine,Mr.Steele.ItakeAna’shandandbringherknucklestomylips.“Later,MissSteele,”Imurmur.You’vemade
meahappy,happyman.Steelegivesmeabriefnod,andtakinghisdaughter’selbow,leadsheroutofthereception.Istand
dazedbutbrimmingwithhope.She’sagreed.“ChristianGrey?”MyjoyisinterruptedbyEamonKavanagh,Katherine’sfather.“Eamon,howareyou?”Weshakehands.
TAYLORCOLLECTSMEAT3:30.“Goodafternoon,sir,”hesays,openingmycardoor.EnrouteheinformsmethattheAudiA3hasbeendeliveredtoTheHeathman.NowIjusthaveto
giveittoAna.Nodoubtthiswillinvolveadiscussion,anddeepdownIknowitwillbemorethanjustadiscussion.Thenagain,she’sagreedtobemysubmissive,somaybeshe’llacceptmygiftwithoutanyfuss.
Whoareyoukidding,Grey?Amancandream.Ihopewecanmeetthisevening;I’llgiveittoherashergraduationpresent.I call Andrea and tell her to put aWebEx breakfastmeeting intomy schedule tomorrowwith
EamonKavanaghandhisassociatesinNewYork.Kavanaghisinterestedinupgradinghisfiber-opticnetwork.IaskAndreatohaveRosandFredonstandbyforthemeeting,too.Sherelayssomemessages—nothing important—and reminds me I have to attend a charity function tomorrow evening inSeattle.
Tonightwill bemy lastnight inPortland. It’s almostAna’s lastnighthere, too…Icontemplatecallingher,butthere’slittlepointsinceshedoesn’thavehercellphone.Andshe’senjoyingtimewithherdad.
StaringoutthecarwindowaswedrivetowardTheHeathman,IwatchthegoodpeopleofPortlandgoabouttheirafternoon.Atastoplightthere’sayoungcouplearguingonthesidewalkoveraspilledbag of groceries. Another couple, even younger, walks hand in hand past them, eyes locked andgiggling.Thegirlleansupandwhisperssomethingintheearofhertattooedbeau.Helaughs,leansdown,andkissesherquickly,thenopensthedoortoacoffeeshopandstepsasidetoletherenter.
Anawants“more.”Isighheavilyandplowmyfingersthroughmyhair.Theyalwayswantmore.Allofthem.WhatcanIdoaboutthat?Thehand-in-handcouplestrollingtothecoffeeshop—AnaandIdidthat.We’veeatentogetherattworestaurants,anditwas…fun.PerhapsIcouldtry.Afterall,she’sgivingmesomuch.Iloosenmytie.
CouldIdomore?
BACKINMYROOM,Istripdown,pullonmysweats,andheaddownstairsforaquickcircuitinthegym.Enforced socializing has stretched the limits of my patience and I need to work off some excessenergy.
AndIneedtothinkaboutmore.
ONCEI’MSHOWEREDANDdressedandbackinfrontofmylaptop,RoscallsviaWebExtocheckinandwetalkforfortyminutes.Wecoveralloftheitemsonheragenda,includingtheTaiwanproposalandDarfur.Thecostof theairdrop is staggering,but it’s safer for all involved. I giveher thego-ahead.NowwehavetowaitfortheshipmenttoarriveinRotterdam.
“I’muptodateonKavanaghMedia.IthinkBarneyshouldbeinonthemeeting,too,”Rossays.“Ifyouthinkso.LetAndreaknow.”“Willdo.Howwasthegraduationceremony?”sheasks.“Good.Unexpected.”Anaagreedtobemine.“Unexpectedgood?”“Yes.”FromthescreenRospeersatme,intrigued,butIsaynothingmore.“Andreatellsmeyou’rebackinSeattletomorrow.”“Yes.Ihaveafunctiontoattendintheevening.”“Well,Ihopeyour‘merger’hasbeensuccessful.”“Iwouldsayaffirmativeatthispoint,Ros.”Shesmirks.“Gladtohearit.Ihaveanothermeeting,soifthere’snothingelse,I’llsaygood-byefor
now.”“Good-bye.”IlogoutofWebExandintoe-mail,turningmyattentiontothisevening.
From:ChristianGreySubject:SoftLimits
Date:May26201117:22
To:AnastasiaSteele
WhatcanIsaythatIhaven’talready?
Happytotalkthesethroughanytime.
Youlookedbeautifultoday.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
AndtothinkthismorningIwasconvinceditwasalloverbetweenus.Jesus,Grey.Youneedtogetagrip.Flynnwouldhaveafieldday.Ofcourse,partof the reasonwas shedidn’thaveherphone.Perhaps sheneedsamore reliable
formofcommunication.
From:ChristianGreySubject:BlackBerryDate:May26201117:36
To:JBTaylorCc:AndreaAshton
Taylor
PleasesourceanewBlackBerryforAnastasiaSteelewithhere-mailpreinstalled.Andreacangettheaccount
detailsfromBarneyandgetthemtoyou.
PleasedeliverittomorroweithertoherhomeortoClayton’s.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Oncethat’ssent,IpickupthelatestForbesandstarttoread.By 6:30 there’s no response from Ana, so I assume she’s still entertaining the quiet and
unassumingRaySteele.Giventhattheyaren’trelated,they’reremarkablysimilar.IordertheseafoodrisottofromroomserviceandwhileIwaitIreadmoreofmybook.
GRACECALLSWHILEI’Mreading.“Christian,darling.”“Hello,Mother.”“DidMiagetintouch?”“Yes.Ihaveherflightdetails.I’llpickherup.”“Great.Now,Ihopeyou’llstayfordinneronSaturday.”“Sure.”“AndthenonSundayElliot isbringinghis friendKatetodinner.Wouldyouliketocome?You
couldbringAnastasia.”That’swhatKavanaghwastalkingabouttoday.Iplayfortime.“I’llhavetoseeifshe’sfree.”“Letmeknow.Itwillbelovelytohaveallthefamilytogetheragain.”Irollmyeyes.“Ifyousayso,Mother.”“Ido,darling.SeeyouSaturday.”Shehangsup.
TakeAnatomeetmyparents?HowthehelldoIgetoutofthat?AsIcontemplatethispredicament,ane-mailarrives.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:SoftLimits
Date:May26201119:23
To:ChristianGrey
Icancomeoverthiseveningtodiscussifyou’dlike.
Ana
No,nobaby.Notinthatcar.Andmyplansfallintoplace.
From:ChristianGreySubject:SoftLimits
Date:May26201119:27
To:AnastasiaSteele
I’llcometoyou.ImeantitwhenIsaidIwasn’thappyaboutyoudrivingthatcar.
I’llbewithyoushortly.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Iprintoutanothercopyofthe“SoftLimits”fromthecontractandher“Issues”e-mailbecauseI’veleftmyfirstcopyinmyjacket,whichshestillhasinherpossession.ThenIcallTaylorinhisroom.
“I’mgoingtodeliverthecartoAnastasia.Canyoupickmeupfromherplace—say,ninethirty?”“Certainly,sir.”BeforeIleaveIstufftwocondomsintothebackpocketofmyjeans.Imightgetlucky.
THEA3ISFUNtodrive,thoughit’sgotlesstorquethanI’musedto.Ipullupoutsidealiquorstoreonthe outskirts of Portland to buy some celebratory champagne. I forgo the Cristal and the DomPérignonforaBollinger,mostlybecauseit’sthe1999vintage,andchilled,butalsobecauseit’spink…symbolic,Ithinkwithasmirk,asIhandmyAmExtothecashier.
Anaisstillwearingthestunninggraydresswhensheopensthedoor.Ilookforwardtopeelingitoffherlater.
“Hi,”shesays,hereyeslargeandluminousinherpaleface.“Hi.”
“Comein.”Sheseemsshyandawkward.Why?What’shappened?“IfImay.”Iholdupthebottleofchampagne.“Ithoughtwe’dcelebrateyourgraduation.Nothing
beatsagoodBollinger.”“Interestingchoiceofwords.”Hervoiceissardonic.“Oh,Ilikeyourreadywit,Anastasia.”Theresheis…mygirl.“Weonlyhaveteacups.We’vepackedalltheglasses.”“Teacups?Soundsgoodtome.”Iwatchherwander into thekitchen.She’snervousandskittish.Perhapsbecauseshe’shadabig
day,orbecauseshe’sagreedtomyterms,orbecauseshe’sherealone—IknowKavanaghiswithherownfamilythisevening;herfathertoldme.IhopethechampagnewillhelpAnarelax…andtalk.
Theroomisempty,exceptforpackingcrates, thesofa,andthetable.There’sabrownparcelonthetablewithahandwrittennoteattached.
“Iagreetotheconditions,Angel;becauseyouknowbestwhatmypunishmentoughttobe;only—only—don’tmakeitmorethanIcanbear!”
“Doyouwantsaucersaswell?”shecalls.“Teacups will be fine, Anastasia,” I respond, distracted. She’s wrapped up the books—the first
editionsIsenther.She’sgivingthembacktome.Shedoesn’twantthem.Thisiswhyshe’snervous.Howthehellwillshereacttothecar?Lookingup,Iseeherstandingthere,watchingme.Andcarefullysheplacesthecupsonthetable.“That’sforyou.”Hervoiceissmallandstrained.“Hmm,I figuredasmuch,” Imutter. “Veryaptquote.” I traceherhandwritingwithmy finger.
Thelettersaresmallandneat,andIwonderwhatagraphologistwouldmakeofthem.“IthoughtIwasd’Urberville,notAngel.Youdecidedonthedebasement.”Ofcourseit’stheperfectquote.Mysmileisironic.“Trustyoutofindsomethingthatresonatessoappropriately.”
“It’salsoaplea,”shewhispers.“Aplea?Formetogoeasyonyou?”Shenods.Tomethesebookswereaninvestment,butforherIthoughtthey’dmeansomething.“Iboughttheseforyou.”It’sasmallwhitelie—asI’vereplacedthem.“I’llgoeasieronyouifyou
acceptthem.”Ikeepmyvoicecalmandquiet,maskingmydisappointment.“Christian,Ican’tacceptthem,they’rejusttoomuch.”Herewego,anotherbattleofwills.Plusçachange,plusc’estlamêmechose.“Yousee,thisiswhatIwastalkingabout,youdefyingme.Iwantyoutohavethem,andthat’sthe
endofthediscussion.It’sverysimple.Youdon’thavetothinkaboutthis.Asasubmissiveyouwouldjustbegratefulforthem.YoujustacceptwhatIbuyyoubecauseitpleasesmeforyoutodoso.”
“Iwasn’tasubmissivewhenyouboughtthemforme,”shesaysquietly.
Asever,shehasananswerforeverything.“No…butyou’veagreed,Anastasia.”Issherenegingonourdeal?God,thisgirlhasmeonarollercoaster.“SotheyareminetodowithasIwish?”“Yes.”IthoughtyoulovedHardy?“In that case, I’d like to give them to a charity—oneworking inDarfur, since that seems tobe
closetoyourheart.Theycanauctionthem.”“Ifthat’swhatyouwanttodo.”I’mnotgoingtostopyou.Youcanburnthem,forallIcare…Herpalefacecolors.“I’llthinkaboutit,”shemutters.“Don’tthink,Anastasia.Notaboutthis.”Keepthem,please.They’reforyou,becauseyourpassion
isbooks.You’vetoldmemorethanonce.Enjoythem.Placing thechampagneon the table, I stand in frontofher andcupherchin, tippingbackher
headsomyeyesareonhers.“Iwillbuyyoulotsofthings,Anastasia.Getusedtoit.Icanaffordit.I’maverywealthyman.”Ikissherquickly.“Please,”Iadd,andreleaseher.
“Itmakesmefeelcheap,”shesays.“Itshouldn’t.You’reoverthinkingit.Don’tplacesomevaguemoraljudgmentonyourselfbasedon
whatothersmightthink.Don’twasteyourenergy.It’sonlybecauseyouhavereservationsaboutourarrangement;that’sperfectlynatural.Youdon’tknowwhatyou’regettingyourselfinto.”
Anxietyisetchedalloverherlovelyface.“Hey,stopthis.Thereisnothingaboutyouthatischeap,Anastasia.Iwon’thaveyouthinkingthat.
IjustsentyousomeoldbooksthatIthoughtmightmeansomethingtoyou,that’sall.”Sheblinksacoupleoftimesandstaresatthepackage,obviouslyconflicted.Keepthem,Ana—they’reforyou.“Havesomechampagne,”Iwhisper,andsherewardsmewithasmallsmile.“That’sbetter.”Iopenthechampagneandfillthedaintyteacupsshe’splacedinfrontofme.“It’spink.”She’ssurprised,andIhaven’tthehearttotellherwhyIchosepink.“BollingerLaGrandeAnnéeRosé1999—anexcellentvintage.”“Inteacups.”Shegrins.It’sinfectious.“Inteacups.Congratulationsonyourdegree,Anastasia.”Wetouchcups,andIdrink.Ittastesgood,asIknewitwould.“Thankyou.”Sheraises thecup toher lipsand takesaquick sip.“Shallwego through thesoft
limits?”“Alwayssoeager.”Takingherhand,I leadher to thesofa—oneof theonlyremainingpiecesof
furnitureinthelivingroom—andwesit,surroundedbyboxes.“Yourstepfather’saverytaciturnman.”“Youmanagedtogethimeatingoutofyourhand.”Ichuckle.“OnlybecauseIknowhowtofish.”
“Howdidyouknowhelikedfishing?”“Youtoldme.Whenwewentforcoffee.”“Oh,didI?”Shetakesanothersipandcloseshereyes,savoringthetaste.Openingthemagain,she
asks,“Didyoutrythewineatthereception?”“Yes.Itwasfoul.”Igrimace.“IthoughtofyouwhenItastedit.Howdidyougettobesoknowledgeableaboutwine?”“I’mnotknowledgeable,Anastasia,IjustknowwhatIlike.”AndIlikeyou.“Somemore?”Inod
towardthebottleonthetable.“Please.”Ifetchthechampagneandrefillhercup.Sheregardsmesuspiciously.SheknowsI’mplyingher
withalcohol.“Thisplacelooksprettybare.Areyoureadyforthemove?”Iask,todistracther.“Moreorless.”“Areyouworkingtomorrow?”“Yes,mylastdayatClayton’s.”“I’dhelpyoumove,butIpromisedtomeetmysisterattheairport.MiaarrivesfromParisearlyon
Saturday.I’mheadingbacktoSeattletomorrow,butIhearElliotisgivingyoutwoahand.”“Yes,Kateisveryexcitedaboutthat.”I’msurprisedElliotisstillinterestedinAna’sfriend;it’snothisusualMO.“Yes,KateandElliot,
whowouldhavethought?”Theirliaisonmakesmatterscomplicated.Mymother’svoiceringsinmyhead:“YoucouldbringAnastasia.”
“SowhatareyoudoingaboutworkinSeattle?”Iask.“Ihaveacoupleofinterviewsforinternplaces.”“Youweregoingtotellmethiswhen?”“Um…I’mtellingyounow,”shesays.“Where?”Iask,hidingmyfrustration.“Acoupleofpublishinghouses.”“Isthatwhatyouwanttodo,somethinginpublishing?”Shenods,butshe’sstillnotforthcoming.“Well?”Iprompt.“Well,what?”“Don’tbeobtuse,Anastasia.Whichpublishinghouses?”Imentallyrunthroughallthepublishing
housesIknowofinSeattle.Therearefour…Ithink.“Justsmallones,”shesaysevasively.“Whydon’tyouwantmetoknow?”“Undueinfluence,”shesays.Whatdoesthatmean?Ifrown.“Oh,nowyou’rebeingobtuse,”shesays,hereyestwinklingwithmirth.
“Obtuse?”Ilaugh.“Me?God,you’rechallenging.Drinkup,let’stalkabouttheselimits.”Hereyelashesflutterandshetakesashakybreath,thendrainshercup.She’sreallynervousabout
this.Iofferhermoreliquidcourage.“Please,”sheresponds.Bottleinhand,Ipause.“Haveyoueatenanything?”“Yes.Ihadathree-coursemealwithRay,”shesays,exasperated,androllshereyes.Oh,Ana.AtlastIcandosomethingaboutthisdisrespectfulhabit.Leaningforward,Itakeholdofherchinandglareather.“Nexttimeyourollyoureyesatme,I
willtakeyouacrossmyknee.”“Oh.”Shelooksalittleshocked,butalittleintrigued,too.“Oh.Soitbegins,Anastasia.”WithawolfishgrinIfillherteacup,andshetakesalongsip.“Gotyourattentionnow,haven’tI?”Shenods.“Answerme.”“Yes,you’vegotmyattention,”shesayswithacontritesmile.“Good.” I fishouthere-mail,andAppendix3ofmycontract, frommy jacket. “So, sexualacts.
We’vedonemostofthis.”Sheshufflesclosertomeandwereaddownthelist.
APPENDIX3SoftLimitsTobediscussedandagreedbetweenbothparties:DoestheSubmissiveconsentto:
MasturbationCunnilingusFellatioSwallowingSemenVaginalintercourseVaginalfistingAnalintercourseAnalfisting
“Nofisting,yousay.Anythingelseyouobjectto?”Iask.Sheswallows.“Analintercoursedoesn’texactlyfloatmyboat.”“I’llagreetothefisting,butI’dreallyliketoclaimyourass,Anastasia.”Sheinhalessharply,gazingatme.“Butwe’llwaitforthat.Besides,it’snotsomethingwecandiveinto.”Ican’thelpmysmirk.“Your
asswillneedtraining.”“Training?”Hereyeswiden.
“Ohyes.It’llneedcarefulpreparation.Analintercoursecanbeverypleasurable,trustme.Butifwetryitandyoudon’tlikeit,wedon’thavetodoitagain.”Idelightinhershockedexpression.
“Haveyoudonethat?”sheasks.“Yes.”“Withaman?”“No.I’veneverhadsexwithaman.Notmyscene.”“Mrs.Robinson?”“Yes.”Andherlargerubberstrap-on.AnafrownsandImoveonquickly,beforeshecanaskmeanymorequestionsaboutthat.“And…swallowingsemen.Well,yougetanAinthat.”Iexpectasmilefromher,butshe’sstudying
me intently, as if seeingme in anew light. I think she’s still reelingoverMrs.Robinson and analintercourse.Oh,baby,Elenahadmysubmission.Shecoulddowithmeasshepleased.AndIenjoyedit.
“So,swallowingsemenokay?”Iask,tryingtobringherbacktothenow.Shenodsandfinishesherchampagne.
“More?”Iask.Steady,Grey,youjustwanthertipsy,notdrunk.“More,”shewhispers.Irefillhercupandgetbacktothelist.“Sextoys?”
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttotheuseof:
VibratorsButtplugsDildosOthervaginal/analtoys
“Buttplug?Doesitdowhatitsaysonthebox?”Shegrimaces.“Yes.AndIrefertoanalintercourseabove.Training.”“Oh.What’sin‘other’?”“Beads,eggs,thatsortofstuff.”“Eggs?”Herhandsshoottohermouthinshock.“Notrealeggs.”Ilaugh.“I’mgladyoufindmefunny.”Thehurtinhervoiceissobering.“Iapologize.I’msorry.”Forfuck’ssake,Grey.Goeasyonher.“Anyproblemwithtoys?”“No,”shesnaps.
Shit.She’ssulking.“Anastasia,Iamsorry.Believeme.Idon’tmeantolaugh.I’veneverhadthisconversationinso
muchdetail.You’rejustsoinexperienced.I’msorry.”Shepoutsandtakesanothersipofchampagne.“Right—bondage,”Isay,andwereturntothelist.
DoestheSubmissiveconsentto:
BondagewithropeBondagewithleathercuffsBondagewithhandcuffs/shackles/manaclesBondagewithtapeBondagewithother
“Well?”Iask,gentlythistime.“Fine,”shewhispersandcontinuesreading.
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttoberestrainedwith:
HandsboundinfrontAnklesboundElbowsboundHandsboundbehindbackKneesboundWristsboundtoanklesBindingtofixeditems,furniture,etc.BindingwithspreaderbarSuspension
DoestheSubmissiveconsenttobeblindfolded?DoestheSubmissiveconsenttobegagged?
“We’vetalkedaboutsuspension.Andit’sfineifyouwanttosetthatupasahardlimit.Ittakesagreatdealoftime,andIonlyhaveyouforshortperiodsanyway.Anythingelse?”
“Don’tlaughatme,butwhat’saspreaderbar?”“Ipromisenottolaugh.I’veapologizedtwice.”ForChrist’ssake.“Don’tmakemedoitagain.”My
voiceissharperthanIintended,andsheleansawayfromme.Shit.Ignoreher reaction,Grey.Getonwith it. “Aspreader isabarwithcuffs foranklesand/orwrists.
They’refun.”
“Okay.Well,gaggingme.I’dbeworriedIwouldn’tbeabletobreathe.”“I’dbeworriedifyoucouldn’tbreathe.Idon’twanttosuffocateyou.”Breathplayisnotmyscene
atall.“AndhowwillIusesafewordsifI’mgagged?”sheinquires.“Firstofall,Ihopeyouneverhavetousethem.Butifyou’regagged,we’llusehandsignals.”“I’mnervousaboutthegagging.”“Okay.I’lltakenote.”Shestudiesmeforamomentasifshe’ssolvedtheriddleofthesphinx.“Doyouliketyingyour
submissivesupsotheycan’ttouchyou?”sheasks.“That’soneofthereasons.”“Isthatwhyyou’vetiedmyhands?”“Yes.”“Youdon’tliketalkingaboutthat,”shesays.“No,Idon’t.”I’mnotgoingtherewithyou,Ana.Giveitup.“Wouldyoulikeanotherdrink?”Iask.“It’smakingyoubrave,andIneedtoknowhowyoufeel
about pain.” I refill her cup and she takes a sip, wide-eyed and anxious. “So, what’s your generalattitudetoreceivingpain?”
Sheremainsmute.Isuppressasigh.“You’rebitingyourlip.”Fortunately,shestops,butnowshe’spensiveandstaring
downatherhands.“Wereyouphysicallypunishedasachild?”Iprompthergently.“No.”“Soyouhavenosphereofreferenceatall?”“No.”“It’snotasbadasyouthink.Yourimaginationisyourworstenemyinthis.”Trustmeonthis,Ana.
Please.“Doyouhavetodoit?”“Yes.”“Why?”Youreallydon’twanttoknow.“Goes with the territory, Anastasia. It’s what I do. I can see you’re nervous. Let’s go through
methods.”Wereadthroughthelist:
SpankingWhippingBiting
GenitalclampsHotwaxPaddlingCaningNippleclampsIceOthertypes/methodsofpain
“Well,yousaidnotogenitalclamps.That’sfine.It’scaningthathurtsthemost.”Anapales.“Wecanworkuptothat,”Istatequickly.“Ornotdoitatall,”shecounters.“Thisispartofthedeal,baby,butwe’llworkuptoallofthis.Anastasia,Iwon’tpushyoutoofar.”“Thispunishmentthing,itworriesmethemost.”“Well, I’m glad you’ve told me.We’ll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more
comfortablewitheverythingelse,we’llincreaseintensity.We’lltakeitslow.”Shelooksuncertain,soIleanforwardandkissher.“There,thatwasn’tsobad,wasit?”Sheshrugs,stilldoubtful.“Look,Iwanttotalkaboutonemorething,thenI’mtakingyoutobed.”“Bed?”sheexclaimsandcolorflusheshercheeks.“Comeon,Anastasia,talkingthroughallthis,Iwanttofuckyouintonextweek,rightnow.Itmust
behavingsomeeffectonyou,too.”Shesquirmsbesidemeandtakesahuskybreath,herthighspressingtogether.“See?Besides,there’ssomethingIwanttotry.”“Somethingpainful?”“No—stopseeingpaineverywhere.It’smainlypleasure.HaveIhurtyouyet?”“No.”“Well,then.Look,earliertodayyouweretalkingaboutwantingmore.”Istop.Fuck.I’monaprecipice.Okay,Grey,areyousureaboutthis?Ihavetotry.Idon’twanttoloseherbeforewestart.Jump.Itakeherhand.“Outsideofthetimeyou’remysub,perhapswecouldtry.Idon’tknowifitwill
work. Idon’tknowaboutseparatingeverything. Itmaynotwork.ButI’mwilling to try.Maybeonenightaweek.Idon’tknow.”
Hermouthdropsopen.“Ihaveonecondition.”“What?”sheasks,herbreathhitching.
“Yougraciouslyacceptmygraduationpresenttoyou.”“Oh,”shesays,hereyeswideningwithuncertainty.“Come.”Ipullhertoherfeet,slipoffmyleatherjacket,anddrapeitoverhershoulders.Takinga
deepbreath, I open the front door and reveal theAudiA3parked at the curb. “It’s for you.Happygraduation.”Iwrapmyarmsaroundherandkissherhair.
WhenIreleasehershestaresdumbfoundedatthecar.Okay…thiscouldgoeitherway.Takingherhand,Ileadherdownthestepsandshefollowsasifinatrance.“Anastasia, that Beetle of yours is old and, frankly, dangerous. I would never forgivemyself if
somethinghappenedtoyouwhenit’ssoeasyformetomakeitright.”Shegapesatthecar,speechless.Shit.“Imentionedittoyourstepfather.Hewasallforit.”PerhapsI’moverstatingthis.Hermouthisstillopenindismaywhensheturnstoglareatme.“YoumentionedthistoRay?Howcouldyou?”She’sannoyed,reallyannoyed.“It’sagift,Anastasia.Can’tyoujustsaythankyou?”“Butyouknowit’stoomuch.”“Nottomeitisn’t,notformypeaceofmind.”Comeon,Ana.Youwantmore.Thisistheprice.Hershoulderssag,andsheturnstome,resigned,Ithink.NotquitethereactionIwashopingfor.
Therosyglowfromthechampagnehasdisappearedandher face ispaleoncemore.“I’mhappyforyoutoloanthistome,likethelaptop.”
I shakemyhead.Why is she so difficult? I’veneverhad this reaction to a car fromany ofmysubmissives.They’reusuallydelighted.
“Okay.Onloan.Indefinitely,”Iagreethroughgrittedteeth.“No,notindefinitely,butfornow.Thankyou,”shesaysquietly,andleaningup,shekissesmeon
thecheek.“Thankyouforthecar,Sir.”Thatword.Fromhersweet,sweetmouth.Igrabherandpressherbodytomine,herhairpooling
inmy fingers. “Youareonechallengingwoman,AnaSteele.” I kissher forcefully, coaxingher lipsapartwithmytongue,andamomentlatershe’sresponding,matchingmyardor,hertonguecaressingmine.Mybodyreacts—Iwanther.Here.Now.Intheopen.“It’stakingallmyself-controlnottofuckyouonthehoodofthiscarrightnow,justtoshowyouthatyouaremine,andifIwanttobuyyouafuckingcar,I’llbuyyouafuckingcar.Nowlet’sgetyouinsideandnaked,”Igrowl.ThenIkissheroncemore,demandingandpossessive.Takingherhand,Istridebackintotheapartment,slammingthefrontdoorbehindusandheadingstraightforherbedroom.ThereIreleaseherandswitchonherbedsidelight.
“Pleasedon’tbeangrywithme,”shewhispers.Herwordsdousethefireofmyanger.
“I’msorryaboutthecarandthebooks—”Shehaltsandlicksherlips.“Youscaremewhenyou’reangry.”
Shit.Noonehaseversaidthattomebefore.Iclosemyeyes.ThelastthingIwanttodoisfrightenher.
Calmdown,Grey.She’s here. She’s safe. She’s willing. Don’t blow it, just because she doesn’t understand how to
behave.Openingmyeyes,IfindAnawatchingme,notinfear,butwithanticipation.“Turnaround,”Idemand,myvoicesoft.“Iwanttogetyououtofthatdress.”Sheobeysimmediately.Goodgirl.Iremovemyjacketfromhershouldersanddiscarditonthefloor,thenliftherhairoffherneck.
Thefeelofhersoftskinbeneathmyindexfingerissoothing.Nowthatshe’sdoingwhatshe’stold,Irelax.WiththetipofmyfingerIfollowthelineofherspinedownherbacktothestartofthezipperboundingraychiffon.“Ilikethisdress.Iliketoseeyourflawlessskin.”
Hookingmyfingerintothebackofherdress,Ipullherclosesoshe’sflushagainstme.Iburymyfaceinherhairandbreatheinherscent.
“Yousmellsogood,Anastasia.Sosweet.”Likefall.Herfragranceiscomforting,remindingmeofatimeofplentyandhappiness.Still inhalingher
deliciousscent,Iskimmynosefromhereardownhernecktohershoulder,kissingherasIgo.SlowlyIunzipherdressandkiss,andlick,andsuckmywayacrossherskintoherothershoulder.
Sheshiversbeneathmytouch.Oh,baby.“Youaregoingtohavetolearntokeepstill,”Iwhisperbetweenkisses,andunfastenher
halterneck.Thedressfallstoherfeet.“Nobra,MissSteele.Ilikethat.”Reachingforward,Icupherbreastsandfeelhernipplespebbleagainstmypalm.“Liftyourarmsandputthemaroundmyhead,”Iorder,mylipsbrushingherneck.Shedoesas
she’stoldandherbreastsliftfartherintomypalms.Shetwistsherfingersintomyhair,thewayIlike,andshetugs.
Ah…Thatfeelssogood.Herheadlollstotheside,andItakeadvantage,kissingherwhereherpulsehammersbeneathher
skin.“Mmm…”Imurmurinappreciation,myfingersteasingandtuggingathernipples.Shegroans,archingherback,pushingherperfecttitsevenfartherintomyhands.“ShallImake
youcomethisway?”Herbodybowsalittlemore.“Youlikethis,don’tyou,MissSteele?”“Mmm…”
“Tellme,”Iinsist,continuingmysensualassaultonhernipples.“Yes,”shebreathes.“Yes,what?”“Yes…Sir.”“Goodgirl.”GentlyIpinchandtwistwithmyfingersandherbodybucksconvulsivelyagainstmewhileshe
moans,herhandstuggingharderatmyhair.“Idon’tthinkyou’rereadytocomeyet.”AndIstillmyhands,justholdingherbreasts,whilemy
teethtugatherearlobe.“Besides,youhavedispleasedme.SoperhapsIwon’tletyoucomeafterall.”Ikneadherbreastsandmyfingersreturnmyattentiontohernipples, twistingandtugging.She
groansandgrindsherassagainstmyerection.Shiftingmyhands toherhips, Iholdhersteadyandglancedownatherpanties.
Cotton.White.Easy.Ihookmyfingersintothemandstretchthemasfarasthey’llgo,thenpushmythumbsthrough
theseamattheback.TheytearapartinmyhandsandIthrowthematAna’sfeet.Shegasps.Itracemyfingersaroundherassandinsertoneintohervagina.She’swet.Verywet.“Ohyes.Mysweetgirlisready.”Ispinheraroundandslipmyfingerintomymouth.Mmm.Salty.“Youtastesofine,MissSteele.”Herlipspartandhereyesdarkenwithwant.Ithinkshe’salittleshocked.“Undressme.”Ikeepmyeyesonhers.Shetiltsherhead,processingmycommand,buthesitates.
“Youcandoit,”Iencourageher.SheliftsherhandsandallofasuddenIthinkshe’sgoingtotouchme,andI’mnotready.Shit.
InstinctivelyIgrabherhands.“Ohno.NottheT-shirt.”Iwantherontop.We’venotdonethisyet,andshemayloseherbalance,soI’llneedtheT-shirt
forprotection.“YoumayneedtotouchmeforwhatIhaveplanned.”Ireleaseoneofherhands,buttheotherIplaceovermyerection,whichisfightingforspaceinmyjeans.
“Thisistheeffectyouhaveonme,MissSteele.”Sheinhales,gazingatherhand.Thenherfingerstightenaroundmycockandsheglancesupat
mewithappreciation.Igrin.“Iwanttobeinsideyou.Takemyjeansoff.You’reincharge.”Hermouthdropsopen.“Whatareyougoingtodowithme?”Myvoiceishusky.Her face transforms,brightwithdelight,andbefore Ican react shepushesme. I laughas I fall
ontothebed,mainlyatherbravado,butalsobecauseshetouchedmeandIdidn’tpanic.Sheremovesmy shoes, thenmy socks,but she’s all fingers and thumbs, remindingmeof the interviewandher
attemptstosetuptherecorder.Iwatchher.Amused.Aroused.Wonderingwhatshe’lldonext.It’sgoingtobeonehellofataskfor
hertoremovemyjeanswhileI’mlyingdown.Steppingoutofherpumps,shecrawlsupthebed,sitsastridethetopofmythighs,andslipsherfingersbeneaththewaistbandofmyjeans.
Iclosemyeyesandflexmyhips,enjoyingshamelessAna.“You’llhavetolearntokeepstill,”shecastigatesme,andtugsatmypubichair.Ah!Sobold,ma’am.“Yes,MissSteele,”Iteasethroughclenchedteeth.“Inmypocket,condom.”Hereyesflashwithobviousdelightandherfingersriflethroughmypocket,divingdeep,brushing
myerection.Ah…She produces both foil packets and tosses them onto the bed besideme.Her fumbling fingers
reachforthebuttononmywaistband,andaftertwoattemptssheundoesit.Her naïveté is captivating. It’s obvious that she’s never done this before. Another first…and it’s
fuckingarousing.“Soeager,MissSteele,”Itease.Sheyanksdownmyzipperand,pullingatmywaistband,givesmealookoffrustration.Itryhardnottolaugh.Yeah,baby,howareyougoingtogettheseoffmenow?Shufflingdownmylegs,shetugsatmyjeans,concentratinghard,lookingadorable.AndIdecide
tohelpherout.“Ican’tkeepstillifyou’regoingtobitethatlip,”Isaywhilearchingmyhips,liftingthemoffthebed.
Risinguponherknees,shepullsdownmyjeansandboxersandIkickthemoff,ontothefloor.Shesitsacrossme,eyeingmycockandlickingherlips.
Whoa.Shelookshot,herdarkhairfallinginsoftwavesaroundherbreasts.“Nowwhat are you going to do?” Iwhisper.Her eyes flick tomy face and she reaches up and
graspsmefirmly,squeezinghard,herthumbbrushingoverthetip.Jesus.Sheleansdown.AndI’minhermouth.Fuck.Shesuckshard.Andmybodyflexesbeneathher.“Jeez,Ana,steady,”Ihissthroughmyteeth.But
she shows nomercy as she fellates me again and again.Fuck. Her enthusiasm is disarming. Hertongueisupanddown,I’minandoutofhermouthtothebackofherthroat,herlipstightaroundme.It’sanoverwhelmingeroticvision.Icouldcomejustwatchingher.
“Stop,Ana,stop.Idon’twanttocome.”Shesitsup,hermouthmoistandhereyestwodarkpoolsdirecteddownatme.“Yourinnocenceandenthusiasmareverydisarming.”ButrightnowIwanttofuckyousoIcansee
you.“You,ontop,that’swhatweneedtodo.Here,putthison.”Iplaceacondominherhand.Sheexaminesitwithconsternation,thenripsthepacketopenwithherteeth.
She’skeen.Sheremovesthecondomandlookstomefordirection.“Pinchthetopandthenrollitdown.Youdon’twantanyairintheendofthatsucker.”She nods and does exactly that, absorbed in her task, concentrating hard, her tongue peeking
betweenherlips.“Christ,you’rekillingmehere,”Iexclaimthroughclenchedteeth.Whenshe’sdoneshesitsbackandadmiresherhandiwork,orme—I’mnotquitesure,butIdon’t
care. “Now. Iwant to be buried inside you.” I sit up suddenly sowe’re face-to-face, surprisingher.“Likethis,”Iwhisper,and,wrappingmyarmaroundher,Ilifther.WithmyotherhandIpositionmycockandlowerherslowlyontome.
Mybreathescapesfrommybodyashereyescloseandpleasurethrumsnoisilyinherthroat.“That’sright,baby,feelme,allofme.”She.Feels.So.Good.Iholdher, lettinghergetused to the feelofme.Like this. Insideher. “It’sdeep thisway.”My
voiceishoarse,asIflexandtiltmypelvis,pushingdeeperintoher.Herhead lollsas shemoans. “Again,” shebreathes.Andsheopenshereyesand theyblaze into
mine.Wanton.Willing. I love that she loves this. Idoas I’maskedandshemoansagain, throwingbackherhead,herhairtumblinginariotoverhershoulders.SlowlyIreclineontothebedtowatchtheshow.
“Youmove,Anastasia, up anddown,how youwant.Takemyhands.” I hold themout and shegrabsthem,steadyingherselfontopofme.Slowlysheeasesherselfup,thensinksbackdownontome.
Mybreathiscominginshort,sharppantsasIrestrainmyself.SheliftsherselfagainandthistimeIraisemyhipstomeetherasshecomesdown.
Ohyes.Closingmyeyes,Isavoreverydeliciousinchofher.Togetherwefindourrhythmassheridesme.
Overandoverandover.Shelooksfantastic:herbreastsbouncing,herhairswinging,hermouthslackassheabsorbseachstabofpleasure.
Hereyesmeetmine,fullofcarnalneedandwonder.God,she’sbeautiful.Shecriesoutasherbodytakesover.She’salmostthere,soItightenmygriponherhands,andshe
ignitesaroundme.Igrabherhips,holdingherassheshoutsincoherentlythroughherorgasm.ThenItightenmyholdonherhipsandsilentlylosemyselfasIexplodeinsideher.
Sheflopsdownontomychest,andIlie,panting,beneathher.MyGod,she’sagoodfuck.Welietogetherforamoment,herweightacomfort.Shestirsandnuzzlesmethroughmyshirt,
thensplaysherhandontopofmychest.Thedarknessslithers,quickandstrong,intomychest,intomythroat,threateningtosuffocateand
chokeme.No.Don’ttouchme.
Igrabherhandandbringherknucklestomylips,androlloverontopofhersoshe’snolongerabletotouchme.
“Don’t,”Iplead,andkissherlipsasIdampendownmyfear.“Whydon’tyouliketobetouched?”“Because I’m fifty shadesof fuckedup,Anastasia.”After years and years of therapy, it’s theone
thingIknowtobetrue.Hereyeswiden,inquisitive;she’sthirstyformoreinformation.Butshedoesn’tneedtoknowthis
shit.“Ihadaverytoughintroductiontolife.Idon’twanttoburdenyouwiththedetails.Justdon’t.”Igentlybrushmynoseagainsthersand,withdrawingfromher, I situpandremovethecondomanddropitbythebed.“Ithinkthat’salltheverybasicscovered.Howwasthat?”
Foramomentsheseemsdistracted,thenshetiltsherheadtoonesideandsmiles.“IfyouimagineforoneminutethatIthinkyoucededcontroltome,well,youhaven’ttakenintoaccountmyGPA.Butthankyoufortheillusion.”
“MissSteele,youarenotjustaprettyface.You’vehadsixorgasmssofarandallofthembelongtome.”Whydoesthatmerefactmakemeglad?
Hereyesstraytotheceiling,andafleetingguiltyexpressioncrossesherface.What’sthis?“Doyouhavesomethingtotellme?”Iask.Shehesitates.“Ihadadreamthismorning.”“Oh?”“Icameinmysleep.”Sheflingsherarmoverherface,hidingfromme,embarrassed.I’mstunned
byherconfessionbutarousedanddelighted,too.Sensualcreature.Shepeeksoverherarm.Doessheexpectmetobeangry?“Inyoursleep?”Iclarify.“Wokemeup,”shewhispers.“I’msureitdid.”I’mfascinated.“Whatwereyoudreamingabout?”“You,”shesaysinasmallvoice.Me!“WhatwasIdoing?”Shehidesbeneathherarmagain.“Anastasia,whatwasIdoing?Iwon’taskyouagain.”Whyis shesoembarrassed?Herdreaming
aboutmeis…endearing.“Youhadaridingcrop,”shemumbles.ImoveherarmsoIcanseeherface.“Really?”“Yes.”Herfaceisbrightred.Theresearchmustbeaffectingher,inagoodway.Ismiledownat
her.“There’shopeforyouyet.Ihaveseveralridingcrops.”“Brownplaitedleather?”Hervoiceistingedwithquietoptimism.Ilaugh.“No,butI’msureIcouldgetone.”
Igiveheraswiftkissandstandtodress.Anadoesthesame,pullingonsweatpantsandacamisole.Collecting thecondomoff the floor, Iknot itquickly.Nowthat she’sagreed tobemine, sheneedscontraception.Fullydressed,shesitscross-leggedonthebedwatchingmeasIgrabmypants.“Whenisyourperioddue?”Iask.“Ihatewearingthesethings.”Iholduptheknottedcondomandpullonmyjeans.
She’stakenaback.“Well?”Iprod.“Nextweek,”sheanswers,hercheekspink.“Youneedtosortoutsomecontraception.”Isitonthebedtosliponmysocksandshoes.Shesaysnothing.“Doyouhaveadoctor?”Iask.Sheshakesherhead.“Icanhaveminecomeandseeyouatyour
apartment—Sundaymorning,beforeyoucomeandseeme.Orhecanseeyouatmyplace.Whichwouldyouprefer?”
I’msureDr.Baxterwillmakeahousecallforme,althoughIhaven’tseenhimforawhile.“Yourplace,”shesays.“Okay.I’llletyouknowthetime.”“Areyouleaving?”SheseemssurprisedthatI’mgoing.“Yes.”“Howareyougettingback?”sheasks.“Taylorwillpickmeup.”“Icandriveyou.Ihavealovelynewcar.”That’sbetter.She’sacceptedthecarassheshould,butafterallthatchampagnesheshouldn’tbe
driving.“Ithinkyou’vehadtoomuchtodrink.”“Didyougetmetipsyonpurpose?”“Yes.”“Why?”“Becauseyouoverthinkeverything,andyou’rereticent,likeyourstepdad.Adropofwineinyou
andyoustarttalking,andIneedyoutocommunicatehonestlywithme.Otherwiseyouclamup,andIhavenoideawhatyou’rethinking.Invinoveritas,Anastasia.”
“Andyouthinkyou’realwayshonestwithme?”“Iendeavortobe.Thiswillonlyworkifwe’rehonestwitheachother.”“I’dlikeyoutostayandusethis.”Shegrabstheothercondomandwavesitatme.Manageherexpectations,Grey.“Ihavecrossedsomanylinesheretonight.Ihavetogo.I’llseeyouonSunday.”Istandup.“I’ll
havetherevisedcontractreadyforyou,andthenwecanreallystarttoplay.”“Play?”shesqueaks.“I’dliketodoascenewithyou.ButIwon’tuntilyou’vesigned,soIknowyou’reready.”“Oh.SoIcouldstretchthisoutifIdon’tsign?”Shit.Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.
Herchintiltsupindefiance.Ah…toppingfromthebottom,again.Shealwaysfindsaway.“Well,Isupposeyoucould,butImaycrackunderthestrain.”“Crack?How?”shequeries,hereyesalivewithcuriosity.“Couldgetreallyugly,”Itease,narrowingmyeyes.“Ugly,how?”Hergrinmatchesmine.“Oh,youknow,explosions,carchases,kidnapping,incarceration.”“You’dkidnapme?”“Ohyes.”“Holdmeagainstmywill?”“Ohyes.”Now,that’saninterestingidea.“Andthenwe’retalkingTPEtwenty-four-seven.”“You’velostme,”shesays,perplexedandalittlebreathless.“TotalPowerExchange—aroundtheclock.”MymindwhirlsasIthinkofthepossibilities.She’s
curious.“Soyouhavenochoice,”Iadd,withaplayfultone.“Clearly.”Her toneis sarcasticandsherollshereyes to theheavens,perhaps lookingfordivine
inspirationtounderstandmysenseofhumor.Oh,sweetjoy.“AnastasiaSteele,didyoujustrollyoureyesatme?”“No!”“Ithinkyoudid.WhatdidIsayI’ddotoyouifyourolledyoureyesatmeagain?”Mywordshang
betweenusandIsitdownagainonthebed.“Comehere.”Foramomentshestaresatme,blanching.“Ihaven’tsigned,”shewhispers.“ItoldyouwhatI’ddo.I’mamanofmyword.I’mgoingtospankyou,andthenI’mgoingtofuck
youveryquickandveryhard.Lookslikewe’llneedthatcondomafterall.”Willshe?Won’tshe?This is it.Proofofwhethershecandothisornot.Iwatchher, impassive,
waiting for her to decide. If she says no, itmeans she’s paying lip service to the idea of beingmysubmissive.
Andthatwillbeit.Maketherightchoice,Ana.Herexpressionisgrave,hereyeswide,andIthinkshe’sweighingupherdecision.“I’mwaiting,”Imurmur.“I’mnotapatientman.”Takingadeepbreath,sheunfurlsherlegsandcrawlstowardme,andIhidemyrelief.“Goodgirl.Nowstandup.”Shedoesasshe’stold,andIofferhermyhand.Shelaysthecondomonmypalm,andIgraspher
handandabruptlypullherovermyleftknee,sothatherhead,shoulders,andchestarerestingonthebed.Idrapemyrightlegoverherlegs,holdingherinplace.I’vewantedtodothissincesheaskedmeifIwasgay.“Putyourhandsuponeithersideofyourhead,”Iorderandshecompliesimmediately.“WhyamIdoingthis,Anastasia?”
“BecauseIrolledmyeyesatyou,”shesaysinahoarsewhisper.
“Doyouthinkthat’spolite?”“No.”“Willyoudoitagain?”“No.”“Iwillspankyoueachtimeyoudoit,doyouunderstand?”I’mgoingtosavorthismoment.It’sanotherfirst.Withgreatcare—relishing thedeed—I tugdownher sweatpants.Herbeautifulbehind isnaked
andreadyforme.AsIplacemyhandonherbackside,shetenseseverymuscleinherbody…waiting.HerskinissofttothetouchandIsweepmypalmacrossbothcheeks,fondlingeach.Shehasafine,fineass.AndI’mgoingtomakeitpink…likethechampagne.
Liftingmypalm,Ismackher,hard,justabovethejunctionofherthighs.Shegaspsandtriestorise,butIholdherdownwithmyotherhandatthesmallofherback,andI
soothetheareaI’vejusthitwithaslow,gentlecaress.Shestaysstill.Panting.Anticipating.Yes.I’mgoingtodothatagain.Ismackheronce,twice,threetimes.Shegrimacesatthepain,hereyesscrewedshut.Butshedoesn’taskmetostopeventhoughshe’s
squirmingbeneathme.“Keepstill,orI’llspankyouforlonger,”Iwarn.Irubhersweetfleshandstartagain,takingturns:leftcheek,rightcheek,middle.Shecriesout.Butshedoesn’tmoveherarms,andshestilldoesn’taskmetostop.“I’mjustgettingwarmedup.”Myvoiceishusky.Ismackheragain,andtracethepinkhandprint
I’veleftonherskin.Herassispinkingupnicely.Itlooksglorious.Ismackheroncemore.Andshecriesoutagain.“Noonetohearyou,baby,justme.”Ispankheroverandover—thesamepattern,leftcheek,rightcheek,middle—andsheyelpseach
time.WhenIreacheighteenIstop.I’mbreathless,mypalmisstinging,andmycockisrigid.“Enough,”Irasp,tryingtocatchmybreath.“Welldone,Anastasia.NowI’mgoingtofuckyou.”Istrokeherpinkbehindgently,roundandround,movingdown.She’swet.Andmybodygetsharder.Iinserttwofingersintohervagina.“Feelthis.Seehowmuchyourbodylikesthis.You’resoaking,justforme.”Islidemyfingersin
andout,andshegroans,herbodycurlingaroundthemwitheachpushandherbreathingaccelerating.Iwithdrawthem.Iwanther.Now.
“Next time, I will get you to count.Now,where’s that condom?”Grabbing it from beside herhead, Ieasehergentlyoffmy lapandonto thebed, facedown.Unzippingmy fly, Idon’tbother toremove my jeans, and I make short work of the foil packet, rolling the condom on quickly andefficiently.Iliftherhipsuntilshe’skneelingandherassinallitsrosygloryispoisedintheairasIstandbehindher.
“I’mgoingtotakeyounow.Youcancome,”Igrowl,caressingherbehindandgrabbingmycock.WithoneswiftthrustI’minsideher.
ShemoansasImove.In.Out.In.Out.Ipoundintoher,watchingmycockdisappearbeneathherpinkbackside.
Hermouthisopenwideandshegruntsandgroanswitheachthrust,hercriesgettinghigherandhigher.
Comeon,Ana.Sheclenchesaroundmeandcriesoutasshecomes,hard.“Oh,Ana!”IfollowherovertheedgeasIclimaxintoherandlosealltimeandperspective.Icollapseatherside,pullherontopofme,and,wrappingmyarmsaroundher,Iwhisperintoher
hair,“Oh,baby,welcometomyworld.”Herweightanchorsme,andshemakesnoattempttotouchmychest.Hereyesareclosedandher
breathingisreturningtonormal.Istrokeherhair.It’ssoft,arichmahogany,shiningintheglowofherbedsidelight.ShesmellsofAnaandapplesandsex.It’sheady.“Welldone,baby.”
She’snot in tears.Shedidas shewasasked.She’s facedeverychallenge I’ve thrownather; shereallyisquiteremarkable.Ifingerthethinstrapofhercheapcottoncamisole.“Isthiswhatyousleepin?”
“Yes.”Shesoundsdrowsy.“Youshouldbeinsilksandsatins,youbeautifulgirl.I’lltakeyoushopping.”“Ilikemysweats,”sheargues.Ofcourseshedoes.Ikissherhair.“We’llsee.”Closingmyeyes,Irelaxinourquietmoment,astrangecontentmentwarmingme,fillingmeup
inside.Thisfeelsright.Tooright.“Ihavetogo,”Imurmur,andkissherforehead.“Areyouokay?”“I’mokay,”shesays,soundingalittlesubdued.GentlyIrolloutfromunderneathherandgetup.“Where’syourbathroom?”Iask,takingoffthe
usedcondomandzippingupmyjeans.“Downthehalltotheleft.”InthebathroomIdiscardthecondomsinatrashbinandspyabottleofbabyoilontheshelf.That’swhatIneed.She’sdressedwhenIreturn,evadingmygaze.Whysoshysuddenly?“Ifoundsomebabyoil.Letmerubitintoyourbehind.”
“No.I’llbefine,”shesays,examiningherfingers,stillavoidingeyecontact.“Anastasia,”Iwarnher.Pleasejustdoasyou’retold.Isitdownbehindherandtugdownhersweatpants.Squirtingsomebabyoilonmyhand,Irubit
tenderlyintohersoreass.Sheputsherhandsonherhipsinanobstinatestance,butstayssilent.“I likemy hands on you,” I admit out loud tomyself. “There.” I pull her sweatpants up. “I’m
leavingnow.”“I’llseeyouout,”shesaysquietly,standingaside.Itakeherhandandreluctantlyletgowhenwe
reachthefrontdoor.Partofmedoesn’twanttoleave.“Don’tyouhavetocallTaylor?”sheasks,hereyesfixedonthezipperofmyleatherjacket.“Taylor’sbeenheresincenine.Lookatme.”Largeblueeyespeekupatmethroughlong,darklashes.“Youdidn’tcry.”Myvoiceislow.Andyouletmespankyou.You’reamazing.I grab her and kiss her, pouringmy gratitude into the kiss and holding her close. “Sunday,” I
whisper,fevered,againstherlips.IreleaseherabruptlybeforeI’mtemptedtoaskherifIcanstay,andIheadout towhereTaylor iswaiting in theSUV.OnceI’m in thecar I lookback,but she’sgone.She’sprobablytired…likeme.
Pleasantlytired.Thathastohavebeenthemostpleasurable“softlimits”conversationI’veeverhad.Damn,thatwomanisunexpected.Closingmyeyes,Iseeherridingme,herheadtippedbackin
ecstasy.Anadoesnotdothingshalfheartedly.Shecommits.Andtothinkshehadsexforthefirsttimeonlyaweekago.
Withme.Andnooneelse.IgrinasIstareoutthecarwindow,butallIseeismyghostlyfacereflectedintheglass.SoIclose
myeyesandallowmyselftodaydream.Trainingherwillbefun.
TAYLORWAKESMEFROMmydoze.“We’rehere,Mr.Grey.”“Thankyou,”Imumble.“Ihaveameetinginthemorning.”“Atthehotel?”“Yes.Videoconference.Iwon’tneedtobedrivenanywhere.ButI’dliketoleavebeforelunch.”“Whattimewouldyoulikemetopack?”“Tenthirty.”“Verygood,sir.TheBlackBerryyouaskedforwillbedeliveredtoMissSteeletomorrow.”“Good.Thatremindsme.CanyoucollectheroldBeetletomorrowanddisposeofit?Idon’twant
herdrivingit.”
“Ofcourse.Ihaveafriendwhorestoresvintagecars.Hemightbeinterested.I’lldealwithit.Willtherebeanythingelse?”
“Nothankyou.Goodnight.”“Goodnight.”IleaveTaylortoparktheSUVandmakemywayuptomysuite.Openingabottleofsparklingwaterfromthefridge,Isitdownatthedeskandswitchonmylaptop.Nourgente-mails.ButmyrealpurposeistosaygoodnighttoAna.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YouDate:May26201123:14
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Youarequitesimplyexquisite.Themostbeautiful,intelligent,witty,andbravewomanIhaveevermet.Take
someAdvil—thisisnotarequest.Anddon’tdriveyourBeetleagain.Iwillknow.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
She’llprobablybeasleep,butIkeepmylaptopopenjustincaseandchecke-mail.Afewminuteslaterherresponsearrives.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:FlatteryDate:May26201123:20
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
Flatterywillgetyounowhere,butsinceyou’vebeeneverywhere,thepointismoot.
IwillneedtodrivemyBeetletoagaragesoIcansellit—sowillnotgraciouslyacceptanyofyournonsenseover
that.RedwineisalwaysmorepreferabletoAdvil.
Ana
P.S.:CaningisaHARDlimitforme.
Heropeninglinemakesmelaughoutloud.Oh,baby,IhavenotbeeneverywhereIwanttogowithyou.Redwineontopofchampagne?Notaclevermix,andcaningisoffthelist.Iwonderwhatelseshe’llobjecttoasIcomposemyreply.
From:ChristianGreySubject:FrustratingWomenWhoCan’tTakeCompliments
Date:May26201123:26
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Iamnotflatteringyou.Youshouldgotobed.
Iacceptyouradditiontothehardlimits.
Don’tdrinktoomuch.
Taylorwilldisposeofyourcarandgetagoodpriceforit,too.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ihopeshe’sinbednow.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Taylor—IsHetheRightManfortheJob?
Date:May26201123:40
To:ChristianGrey
DearSir,
Iamintriguedthatyouarehappytorisklettingyourright-handmandrivemycarbutnotsomewomanyoufuck
occasionally.HowcanIbesurethatTayloristhemantogetmethebestdealforsaidcar?Ihave,inthepast,
probablybeforeImetyou,beenknowntodriveahardbargain.
Ana
Whatthehell?SomewomanIfuckoccasionally?Ihave to takeadeepbreath.Herresponse irksme…no, infuriatesme.Howdare she talk about
herselflikethat?Asmysubmissiveshe’llbesomuchmorethanthat.I’llbedevotedtoher.Doesshenotrealizethis?
Andshehasdrivenahardbargainwithme.GoodGod!LookatalltheconcessionsI’vemadewithregardtothecontract.
Icounttoten,andtocalmdown,IvisualizemyselfaboardTheGrace,mycatamaran,sailingontheSound.
Flynnwouldbeproud.Irespond.
From:ChristianGrey
Subject:Careful!Date:May26201123:44
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
IamassumingitistheREDWINEtalking,andthatyou’vehadaverylongday.
ThoughIamtemptedtodrivebackovertheretoensurethatyoudon’tsitdownforaweek,ratherthanan
evening.
Taylorisex-armyandcapableofdrivinganythingfromamotorcycletoaShermantank.Yourcardoesnot
presentahazardtohim.
Nowpleasedonotrefertoyourselfas“somewomanIfuckoccasionally”because,quitefrankly,itmakesme
MAD,andyoureallywouldn’tlikemewhenI’mangry.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Iexhaleslowly, steadyingmyheart rate.Whoelseonearthhas theability togetundermyskinlikethis?
Shedoesn’twritebackimmediately.Perhapsshe’sintimidatedbymyresponse.Ipickupmybook,butsoonfindthatI’vereadthesameparagraphthreetimeswhileawaitingherreply.Ilookupfortheumpteenthtime.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:CarefulYourselfDate:May26201123:57
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
I’mnotsureIlikeyouanyway,especiallyatthemoment.
MissSteele
Istareatherreply,andallmyangerwithersanddies,tobereplacedbyasurgeofanxiety.Shit.Isshesayingthat’sit?
FRIDAY,MAY27,2011
From:ChristianGreySubject:CarefulYourselfDate:May27201100:03
To:AnastasiaSteele
Whydon’tyoulikeme?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Igetupandopenanotherbottleofsparklingwater.Andwait.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:CarefulYourselfDate:May27201100:09
To:ChristianGrey
Becauseyouneverstaywithme.
Sixwords.Sixlittlewordsthatmakemyscalptingle.ItoldherthatIdidn’tsleepwithanyone.Buttodaywasabigday.Shegraduatedfromcollege.Shesaidyes.Wewentthroughallthosesoftlimitsthatsheknewnothingabout.Wefucked.Ispankedher.We
fuckedagain.Shit.AndbeforeIcanstopmyself,Igrabthegarageticketformycar,pickupajacket,andI’moutthe
door.
THEROADSAREEMPTYandI’matherplacetwenty-threeminuteslater.
Iknockquietly,andKavanaghopensthedoor.“Whatthefuckdoyouthinkyou’redoinghere?”sheshouts,hereyesblazingwithanger.Whoa.NotthereceptionIwasexpecting.“I’vecometoseeAna.”“Well, you can’t!” Kavanagh stands with arms folded and legs braced in the doorway, like a
gargoyle.Itryreasoningwithher.“ButIneedtoseeher.Shesentmeane-mail.”Getoutofmyway!“Whatthefuckhaveyoudonetohernow?”“That’swhatIneedtofindout.”Igritmyteeth.“Eversinceshemetyoushecriesallthetime.”“What?”Ican’tdealwithhershitanymore,andIbargepasther.“Youcan’t come inhere!”Kavanagh followsme, shrieking like aharpy, as I storm through the
apartmenttoAna’sbedroom.I open Ana’s door and switch on the main light. She’s huddled in her bed, wrapped in her
comforter.Hereyesareredandpuffy,andsquintingintheoverheadlight.Hernoseisswollenandblotchy.
I’veseenwomeninthisstatemanytimes,especiallyafterI’vepunishedthem.ButI’msurprisedbytheuneasethatgripsmygut.
“Jesus,Ana.”Iflickthemainlightoffsoshedoesn’thavetosquintandIsitonthebedbesideher.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”She’ssniffling.Iturnonherbedsidelight.“Doyouwantmetothrowthisassholeout?”Katebarksfromthedoorway.Fuckyou,Kavanagh.Raisinganeyebrow,Ipretendtoignoreher.Anashakesherhead,butherwateryeyesareonme.“Justholler if youneedme,”Kate says toAna,as if shewereachild. “Grey,” she snaps, so I’m
obliged to look at her. “You’re onmy shit list, and I’mwatching you.” She sounds shrill, her eyesglintingwithfury,butIdon’tgiveafuck.
Fortunatelysheleaves,pullingthedoorto,butnotshuttingit.Icheckinmyinsidepocket,andonceagainMrs. Joneshasexceededallexpectations; I fishout thehandkerchiefandgive it toAna.“What’sgoingon?”
“Whyareyouhere?”Hervoiceisshaky.Idon’tknow.Yousaidyoudidn’tlikeme.“Partofmyroleistolookafteryourneeds.Yousaidyouwantedmetostay,sohereIam.”Nice
save,Grey.“AndyetIfindyoulikethis.”Youweren’tlikethiswhenIleft.“I’msureI’mresponsible,butIhavenoideawhy.IsitbecauseIhityou?”
Shestrugglestositupandflincheswhenshedoes.“DidyoutakesomeAdvil?”Asinstructed?Sheshakesherhead.Whenwillyoudoasyou’retold?
IgotofindKavanagh,who’sonthesofa,seething.“Anahasaheadache.DoyouhaveanyAdvil?”Sheraiseshereyebrows,surprised,Ithink,bymyconcernforherfriend.Glowering,shegetsup
andstompsintothekitchen.Aftersomerustlingthroughboxesshehandsmeacoupleoftabletsandateacupofwater.
BackinthebedroomIofferthemtoAnaandsitonthebed.“Takethese.”Shedoes,hereyescloudedwithapprehension.“Talktome.Youtoldmeyouwereokay.I’dneverhaveleftyouifIthoughtyouwerelikethis.”
Distracted,shetoyswithaloosethreadonherquilt.“Itakeitthatwhenyousaidyouwereokay,youweren’t.”
“IthoughtIwasfine,”sheadmits.“Anastasia,youcan’ttellmewhatyouthinkIwanttohear.That’snotveryhonest.HowcanItrust
anythingyou’vesaidtome?”Thiswillneverworkifshe’snothonestwithme.Thethoughtisdepressing.Talktome,Ana.“HowdidyoufeelwhileIwashittingyou,andafter?”“Ididn’tlikeit.I’dratheryoudidn’tdoitagain.”“Youweren’tmeanttolikeit.”“Whydoyoulikeit?”sheasks,andhervoiceisstronger.Shit.Ican’ttellherwhy.“Youreallywanttoknow?”“Oh,trustme,I’mfascinated.”Nowshe’sbeingsarcastic.“Careful,”Iwarnher.Shepalesatmyexpression.“Areyougoingtohitmeagain?”“No,nottonight.”Ithinkyou’vehadenough.“So.”Shestillwantsananswer.“Ilikethecontrolitgivesme,Anastasia.Iwantyoutobehaveinaparticularway,andifyoudon’t,
Ishallpunishyou,andyouwilllearntobehavethewayIdesire.Ienjoypunishingyou.I’vewantedtospankyousinceyouaskedmeifIwasgay.”
AndIdon’twantyourollingyoureyesatme,orbeingsarcastic.“Soyoudon’tlikethewayIam.”Hervoiceissmall.“Ithinkyou’relovelythewayyouare.”“Sowhyareyoutryingtochangeme?”“Idon’twanttochangeyou.”Godforbid.You’reenchanting.“I’dlikeyoutobecourteousandto
followthesetofrulesI’vegivenyouandnotdefyme.Simple.”Iwantyousafe.“Butyouwanttopunishme?”“Yes,Ido.”“That’swhatIdon’tunderstand.”
Isigh.“It’sthewayI’mmade.Ineedtocontrolyou.Ineedyoutobehaveinacertainway,andifyoudon’t—”Myminddrifts.Ifinditarousing,Ana.Youdid,too.Can’tyouacceptthat?Bendingyouovermyknee…feelingyourassbeneathmypalm. “I love towatchyourbeautifulalabaster skinpinkandwarmupundermyhands.Itturnsmeon.”Justthinkingaboutitstirsmybody.
“Soit’snotthepainyou’reputtingmethrough?”Hell.“Abit,toseeifyoucantakeit.”Actually,it’salot,butIdon’twanttogothererightnow.IfItell
her,she’llthrowmeout.“Butthat’snotthewholereason.It’sthefactthatyouareminetodowithasIseefit—ultimatecontroloversomeoneelse.Anditturnsmeon.Big-time.”
Imustlendherabookortwoonbeingasubmissive.“Look,I’mnotexplainingmyselfverywell.I’veneverhadtobefore.I’venotreallythoughtabout
thisinanygreatdepth.I’vealwaysbeenwithlike-mindedpeople.”Ipausetocheckshe’sstillwithme.“Andyouhaven’tansweredmyquestion—howdidyoufeelafterward?”
Sheblinks.“Confused.”“Youweresexuallyarousedbyit,Anastasia.”Youhaveaninnerfreak,Ana.Iknowit.Closingmyeyes,IrecallherwetandwantingaroundmyfingersafterIspankedher.WhenIopen
them, she’s staring atme, pupils dilated, her lips parted…her tonguemoistening her top lip. Shewantsit,too.
Shit.Notagain,Grey.Notwhenshe’slikethis.“Don’tlookatmelikethat,”Iwarn,myvoicegruff.Hereyebrowsriseinsurprise.YouknowwhatImean,Ana.“Idon’thaveanycondoms,andyouknow,you’reupset.Contraryto
whatyourroommatebelieves,I’mnotapriapicmonster.So,youfeltconfused?”Sheremainsmute.Jesus.“Youhavenoproblembeinghonestwithmeinprint.Youre-mailsalwaystellmeexactlyhowyou
feel.Whycan’tyoudothatinconversation?DoIintimidateyouthatmuch?”Herfingersfiddlewiththequilt.“Youbeguileme,Christian.Completelyoverwhelmme.IfeellikeIcarus,flyingtooclosetothe
sun.”Hervoiceisquiet,butbrimmingwithemotion.Herconfessionfloorsmelikeaswiftkicktothehead.“Well,Ithinkyou’vegotthatthewrongwayround,”Iwhisper.“What?”“Oh,Anastasia,you’vebewitchedme.Isn’titobvious?”That’swhyI’mhere.She’snotconvinced.Ana.Believeme. “You’ve still not answeredmyquestion.Writeme an e-mail, please.But right
now,I’dreallyliketosleep.CanIstay?”
“Doyouwanttostay?”“Youwantedmehere.”“Youhaven’tansweredmyquestion,”shepersists.Impossiblewoman.Ijustdrovelikeamaniactogethereafteryourfuckingmessage.There’syour
answer.IgrumblethatI’llrespondbye-mail.I’mnottalkingaboutthis.Thisconversationisover.Before I can change my mind and head back to The Heathman, I stand, empty my pockets,
removemyshoesandsocks,andstripoffmypants.Slingingmyjacketoverherchair,Iclimbintoherbed.
“Liedown,”Igrowl.Shecomplies,andIleanuponmyelbow,lookingather.“Ifyouaregoingtocry,cryinfrontof
me.Ineedtoknow.”“Doyouwantmetocry?”“Notparticularly. I justwant toknowhowyou’re feeling. Idon’twantyouslipping throughmy
fingers.Switchthelightoff.It’slate,andwebothhavetoworktomorrow.”Shedoes.“Lieonyourside,facingawayfromme.”Idon’twantyoutotouchme.Thebeddipsasshemoves,andIwrapmyarmaroundherandgentlypullheragainstme.“Sleep,baby,”Imurmur,andbreatheinthescentofherhair.Damn,shesmellsgood.
Lelliotisrunningthroughthegrass.He’slaughing.Loud.Iamrunningafterhim.Myfaceissmiling.Iamgoingtocatchhim.Therearesmalltreesaroundus.Babytreescoveredinapples.Mommyletsmepicktheapples.Mommyletsmeeattheapples.Iputtheapplesinmypockets.Everypocket.Ihidetheminmysweater.Applestastegood.Applessmellgood.Mommymakesapplepie.Applepieandicecream.Theymakemytummysmile.Ihidetheapplesinmyshoes.Ihidethemundermypillow.Thereisaman.GrandpaTrev-Trev-yan.
Hisnameishard.Hardtosayinmyhead.Hehasanothername.Thee-o-door.Theodoreisafunnyname.Thebabytreesarehistrees.Athishouse.Wherehelives.HeisMommy’sdaddy.Hehasaloudlaugh.Andbigshoulders.Andhappyeyes.HerunstocatchLelliotandme.Youcan’tcatchme.Lelliotruns.Helaughs.Irun.Icatchhim.Andwefalldowninthegrass.Heislaughing.Theapplessparkleinthesun.Andtheytastesogood.Yummy.Andtheysmellsogood.So,sogood.Theapplesfall.Theyfallonme.Itwistandtheyhitmyback.Stingingme.Ow.
Butthescentisstillthere,sweetandcrisp.Ana.
When I openmyeyes I’mwrappedaroundher, our limbs entwined.She’s regardingmewith atendersmile.Herfaceisnolongerblotchyandpuffy;shelooksradiant.Mycockagrees,andstiffensingreeting.
“Goodmorning.” I’mdisoriented. “Jesus,even inmy sleep I’mdrawn toyou.”Stretchingout, Idisentanglemyself fromherand scanmy surroundings.Ofcourse,we’re inherbedroom.Hereyesglowwitheagercuriosityasmycockpressesagainsther.“Hmm,thishaspossibilities,butIthinkweshouldwaituntilSunday.”Inuzzleherjustbelowherearandleanuponmyelbow.
Shelooksflushed.Warm.“You’reveryhot,”shescolds.“You’renotsobadyourself.”Igrinandflexmyhips,teasingherwithmyfavoritebodypart.She
triesadisapprovinglookbutfailsmiserably—she’shighlyamused.Leaningdown,Ikissher.“Sleepwell?”Iask.Shenods.
“SodidI.”I’msurprised.Ididsleepreallywell.Itellherso.Nonightmares.Onlydreams…“What’sthetime?”Iask.“It’sseventhirty.”“Seventhirty?Shit!”Ileapoutofbedandstartdraggingonmyjeans.Shewatchesmedress,trying
tosuppressherlaughter.“Youaresuchabadinfluenceonme,”Icomplain.“Ihaveameeting.Ihavetogo—Ihavetobein
Portlandateight.Areyousmirkingatme?”“Yes,”sheadmits.“I’mlate.Idon’tdolate.Anotherfirst,MissSteele.”Itugonmyjacket,reachdownandtakeher
headinbothmyhands.“Sunday,”Iwhisper,andkissher.Igrabmywatch,wallet,andmoneyfromherbedsidetable,pickupmyshoes,andheadforthedoor.“TaylorwillcomeandsortyourBeetle.Iwasserious.Don’tdriveit.I’llseeyouatmyplaceonSunday.I’lle-mailyouatime.”
Leavingheralittledazed,Irushoutoftheapartmentandtomycar.IputonmyshoeswhileI’mdriving.Oncethey’reonIopenupthethrottleandweaveinandout
of the traffic heading to Portland. I’ll have to meet Eamon Kavanagh’s associates in my jeans.ThankfullythismeetingisviaWebEx.
IburstintomyroomatTheHeathmanandswitchonmylaptop:8:02.Shit.Ihaven’tshaved,butIsmoothmy hair and straightenmy jacket, and hope they don’t notice I’m only wearing a T-shirtunderneath.
Whogivesafuck,anyway?IopenWebExandAndreaisonline,waitingforme.“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.Mr.Kavanaghis
delayed,butthey’rereadyforyouinNewYorkandhereinSeattle.”“FredandBarney?”MyFlintstones.Ismirkatthethought.“Yes,sir.AndRos,too.”“Great.Thanks.” I’mbreathless. I catchAndrea’s fleeting puzzled look and choose to ignore it.
“Canyouordermeatoastedbagelwithcreamcheeseandsmokedsalmonandacoffee,black.HaveitsenttomysuiteASAP.”
“Yes,Mr.Grey.”Shepoststhelinktotheconferenceinthewindow.“Hereyougo,sir,”shesays.Iclickthelink—andI’min.
“Goodmorning.”TherearetwoexecutivesseatedataconferencetableinNewYork,bothgazingexpectantlyatthecamera.Ros,Barney,andFredareeachinseparatewindows.
To business. Kavanagh says he wants to upgrade his media network to high-speed fiber-opticconnections.GEHcandoitforthem—butaretheyseriousaboutbuyingin?It’sabiginvestmentupfront,butagreatpayoffdowntheline.
Whilewe’retalkingane-mailnotificationwithanarrestingtitlefromAnafloatsontothetoprightcornerofmyscreen.AsquietlyasIcan,Iclickonit.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:AssaultandBattery:TheAfter-EffectsDate:May27201108:05
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
YouwantedtoknowwhyIfeltconfusedafteryou—whicheuphemismshouldweapply—spanked,punished,
beat,assaultedme.
Atadoverdramatic,MissSteele.Youcouldhavesaidno.
Well,duringthewholealarmingprocess,Ifeltdemeaned,debased,andabused.
Ifyoufeltthatway,whydidn’tyoustopme?Youhavesafewords.
Andmuchtomymortification,you’reright,Iwasaroused,andthatwasunexpected.
Iknow.Good.You’vefinallyacknowledgedit.
Asyouarewellaware,allthingssexualarenewtome—IonlywishIwasmoreexperiencedandthereforemore
prepared.Iwasshockedtofeelaroused.
WhatreallyworriedmewashowIfeltafterward.Andthat’smoredifficulttoarticulate.Iwashappythatyouwere
happy.Ifeltrelievedthatitwasn’taspainfulasIthoughtitwouldbe.AndwhenIwaslyinginyourarms,Ifelt…
sated.
AsdidI,Ana,asdidI…
ButIfeelveryuncomfortable,guiltyeven,feelingthatway.Itdoesn’tsitwellwithme,andI’mconfusedasa
result.Doesthatansweryourquestion?
IhopetheworldofMergersandAcquisitionsisasstimulatingasever…andthatyouweren’ttoolate.
Thankyouforstayingwithme.
Ana
Kavanaghjoinstheconversation,apologizingforhistardiness.WhiletheintroductionsaremadeandFredtalksaboutwhatGEHcanoffer,ItypeoutmyreplytoAna.IhopetothoseontheothersideofthecomputerscreenitlookslikeI’mtakingnotes.
From:ChristianGreySubject:FreeYourMind
Date:May27201108:24
To:AnastasiaSteele
Interesting…ifslightlyoverstatedtitleheading,MissSteele.
Toansweryourpoints:
I’llgowithspanking—asthat’swhatitwas.
Soyoufeltdemeaned,debased,abused,andassaulted—howveryTessDurbeyfieldofyou.Ibelieveitwas
youwhodecidedonthedebasement,ifIremembercorrectly.Doyoureallyfeellikethisordoyouthinkyou
oughttofeellikethis?Twoverydifferentthings.Ifthatishowyoufeel,doyouthinkyoucouldjusttryto
embracethesefeelings,dealwiththem,forme?That’swhatasubmissivewoulddo.
Iamgratefulforyourinexperience.Ivalueit,andI’monlybeginningtounderstandwhatitmeans.Simplyput…
itmeansthatyouaremineineveryway.
Yes,youwerearoused,whichinturnwasveryarousing,there’snothingwrongwiththat.
HappydoesnotevenbegintocoverhowIfelt.Ecstaticjoycomesclose.
Punishmentspankinghurtsfarmorethansensualspanking—sothat’saboutashardasitgets,unless,of
course,youcommitsomemajortransgression,inwhichcaseI’llusesomeimplementtopunishyouwith.My
handwasverysore.ButIlikethat.
Ifeltsated,too—moresothanyoucouldeverknow.
Don’twasteyourenergyonguilt,feelingsofwrongdoing,etc.Weareconsentingadultsandwhatwedo
behindcloseddoorsisbetweenourselves.Youneedtofreeyourmindandlistentoyourbody.
TheworldofM&Aisnotnearlyasstimulatingasyouare,MissSteele.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Herresponseisalmostimmediate.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:ConsentingAdults!Date:May27201108:26
To:ChristianGrey
Aren’tyouinameeting?
I’mverygladyourhandwassore.
AndifIlistenedtomybody,I’dbeinAlaskabynow.
Ana
P.S.:Iwillthinkaboutembracingthesefeelings.
Alaska! Really, Miss Steele. I chuckle to myself and look like I’m engaged with the onlineconversation.There’saknockonmydoor,andIapologizeforinterruptingtheconferencewhileIletroomserviceinwithmybreakfast.MissDark,DarkEyesrewardsmewithaflirtatioussmileasIsignthecheck.
ReturningtotheWebEx,IfindFredbriefingKavanaghandhisassociatesonhowsuccessfulthistechnologyhasbeenforanotherclientcompanydealinginfutures.
“Will the technology helpme with the futuresmarket?” Kavanagh asks with a sardonic smile.WhenItellhimthatBarney’shardatworkdevelopingacrystalballtopredictprices,theyallhavethegracetolaugh.
WhileFreddiscussesatheoreticaltimelineforimplementationandtechintegration,Ie-mailAna.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YouDidn’tCalltheCopsDate:May27201108:35
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele,
Iaminameetingdiscussingthefuturesmarket,ifyou’rereallyinterested.
Fortherecord,youstoodbesidemeknowingwhatIwasgoingtodo.
Youdidn’tatanytimeaskmetostop—youdidn’tuseeithersafeword.
Youareanadult—youhavechoices.
Quitefrankly,I’mlookingforwardtothenexttimemypalmisringingwithpain.
You’reobviouslynotlisteningtotherightpartofyourbody.
Alaskaisverycoldandnoplacetorun.Iwouldfindyou.
Icantrackyourcellphone—remember?
Gotowork.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
FredisinfullflowwhenIgetAna’sresponse.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:StalkerDate:May27201108:36
To:ChristianGrey
Haveyousoughttherapyforyourstalkertendencies?
Ana
Ismothermylaugh.She’sfunny.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Stalker?Me?
Date:May27201108:38
To:AnastasiaSteele
IpaytheeminentDr.Flynnasmallfortunewithregardtomystalkerandothertendencies.
Gotowork.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Whyhasn’tshegonetowork?She’llbelate.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:ExpensiveCharlatansDate:May27201108:40
To:ChristianGrey
MayIhumblysuggestyouseekasecondopinion?
IamnotsurethatDr.Flynnisveryeffective.
MissSteele
Damn, this woman is funny…and intuitive; Flynn chargesme a small fortune for his advice.Surreptitiously,Itypemyresponse.
From:ChristianGreySubject:SecondOpinionsDate:May27201108:43
To:AnastasiaSteele
Notthatit’sanyofyourbusiness,humbleorotherwise,butDr.Flynnisthesecondopinion.
Youwillhavetospeed,inyournewcar,puttingyourselfatunnecessaryrisk—Ithinkthat’sagainsttherules.
GOTOWORK.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Kavanaghthrowsmeaquestionaboutfuture-proofing.Ilethimknowthatwe’verecentlyacquiredacompanythat’saninnovative,dynamicplayerinfiberoptics.Idon’tlethimknowthatIhavedoubtsabouttheCEO,LucasWoods.He’llbegoneanyway.I’mdefinitelyfiringthatidiot,nomatterwhatRossays.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:SHOUTYCAPITALS
Date:May27201108:47
To:ChristianGrey
Astheobjectofyourstalkertendencies,Ithinkitismybusiness,actually.
Ihaven’tsignedyet.Sorules,schmules.AndIdon’tstartuntil9:30.
MissSteele
SHOUTYCAPITALS.Iloveit.Irespond.
From:ChristianGreySubject:DescriptiveLinguisticsDate:May27201108:49
To:AnastasiaSteele
“Schmules”?NotsurewherethatappearsinWebster’sdictionary.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
“Wecantakethisconversationoffline,”RossaystoKavanagh.“Nowthatwehaveanideaofyourneedsandexpectations,we’llprepareadetailedproposalforyouandreconvenenextweektodiscussit.”
“Great,”Isay,tryingtolookengaged.Therearenodsofagreementallaround,thengood-byes.“Thanksforgivingustheopportunitytoquoteforthis,Eamon,”IaddressKavanagh.“Itsoundslikeyouguysknowwhatweneed,”hesays.“Greattoseeyouyesterday.Good-bye.”TheyallhangupexceptRos,who’sstaringatmeasifI’vegrowntwoheads.Ana’se-mailpingsintomyinbox.“Hangon,Ros.Ineedaminuteortwo.”Imuteher.Andread.Andlaughoutloud.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:DescriptiveLinguisticsDate:May27201108:52
To:ChristianGrey
It’sbetweencontrolfreakandstalker.
Anddescriptivelinguisticsisahardlimitforme.
Willyoustopbotheringmenow?
I’dliketogotoworkinmynewcar.
Ana
Itypeaquickreply.
From:ChristianGreySubject:ChallengingbutAmusingYoungWomen
Date:May27201108:56
To:AnastasiaSteele
Mypalmistwitching.
Drivesafely,MissSteele.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
RosisglaringatmewhenIunmuteher.“Whatthehell,Christian?”“What?”Ifeigninnocence.“Youknowwhat.Don’tholdagoddamnmeetingwhenyou’reobviouslynotinterested.”“Wasitthatobvious?”“Yes.”“Fuck.”“Yes.Fuck.Thiscouldbeahugecontractforus.”“Iknow.Iknow.I’msorry.”Igrin.“Idon’tknowwhat’sgotintoyoulately.”Sheshakesherhead,butIcantellshe’stryingtomask
heramusementwithexasperation.“It’sthePortlandair.”“Well,thesooneryou’rebackhere,thebetter.”“I’mheadingbackaroundlunchtime.Inthemeantime,askMarcotoinvestigateallthepublishing
housesinSeattleandseeifanyareripeforatakeover.”“Youwanttogointopublishing?”Rossplutters.“It’snotahigh-potential-growthsector.”She’sprobablyright.“Justinvestigate.That’sall.”Shesighs.“Ifyouinsist.Willyoubeinlaterthisafternoon?Wecanhaveapropercatch-up.”“Dependsonthetraffic.”“I’llpencilinacatch-upwithAndrea.”“Great.Byefornow.”
IcloseWebEx,thenphoneAndrea.“Mr.Grey.”“CallDr. Baxter and have him come tomy apartment on Sunday, aroundmidday. If he’s not
available,findagoodgynecologist.Getthebest.”“Yes,sir,”shesays.“Anythingelse?”“Yes.What’sthenameofthepersonalshopperIuseatNeimanMarcusattheBraverncenter?”“CarolineActon.”“Textmehernumber.”“Willdo.”“I’llseeyoulaterthisafternoon.”“Yes,sir.”Ihangup.Sofarit’sbeenoneinterestingmorning.Ican’trecallanyexchangeofe-mailsbeingthatfun,ever.
Iglanceatthelaptop,butthere’snothingnew.Anamustbeatwork.Irunmyhandsthroughmyhair.RosnoticedhowdistractedIwasduringthatconversation.Shit,Grey.Getyouracttogether.I wolf downmy breakfast, drink some cold coffee, and head into my bedroom to shower and
change.EvenwhenI’mwashingmyhairIcan’tgetthatwomanoutofmyhead.Ana.AmazingAna.Theimageofherbouncingupanddownontopofmecomestomind;ofherlyingovermyknee,
ass pink; of her tethered to the bed, mouth open in ecstasy. Lord, that woman is hot. And thismorning,wakingupnexttoher,itwasn’tsobad,andIsleptwell…reallywell.
Shoutycapitals.Her e-mailsmakeme laugh.They’re entertaining. She’s funny. I never knew Ilikedthatinawoman.I’llneedtothinkaboutwhatwe’lldoonSundayinmyplayroom…somethingfun,somethingnewforher.
WhileshavingIhaveanidea,andassoonasI’mdressedIgetbackonmylaptoptobrowsemyfavorite toy store. I need a riding crop—brown plaited leather. I smirk. I’m going to make Ana’sdreamscometrue.
Orderplaced,Iturntoworke-mails,energizedandproductive,untilTaylorinterruptsme.“Goodmorning,Taylor.”
“Mr.Grey.”Henods,lookingatmewithapuzzledexpression,andIrealizeI’mgrinningbecauseI’mthinkingabouthere-mailsagain.
Descriptivelinguisticsisahardlimitforme.“I’vehadagoodmorning,”Ifindmyselfexplaining.“I’mpleasedtohearit,sir.IhaveMissSteele’slaundryfromlastweek.”“Packitwithmythings.”“Willdo.”“Thankyou.” Iwatchhimwalk intomybedroom.EvenTaylor isnoticing theAnastasiaSteele
effect.Myphonebuzzes:it’satextfromElliot.
YoustillinPortland?
Yes.ButI’mleavingsoon.
I’llbetherelater.I’mgonnahelpthegirlsmove.
Shameyoucan’tstay.
OurfirstDOUBLEDATEsinceAnapoppedyourcherry.
Fuckoff.I’mpickingupMia.
Ineeddeetsbro.Katetellsmenothing.
Good.Fuckoff.Again.
“Mr.Grey?”Taylorinterruptsoncemore,myluggageinhand.“ThecourierhasbeendispatchedwiththeBlackBerry.”
“Thanks.”Henods,andasheleavesItypeupanothere-mailtoMissSteele.
From:ChristianGreySubject:BlackBerryONLOANDate:May27201111:15
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ineedtobeabletocontactyouatalltimes,andsincethisisyourmosthonestformofcommunication,Ifigured
youneededaBlackBerry.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Andmaybeyou’llanswerthisphonewhenIcall.At11:30Ihaveanotherconferencecall,withourdirectoroffinance,todiscussGEH’scharitable
givingforthenextquarter.Thattakesthebestpartofanhour,andwhenit’soverIfinishalightlunchandreadtherestofmyForbesmagazine.
AsIswallowthelastforkfulofsalad,IrealizeIhavenootherreasontostayatthehotel.It’stimeto go, yet I’m reluctant. And deep down I have to acknowledge it’s because I won’t see Ana untilSunday,unlessshechangeshermind.
Fuck.Ihopenot.Pushingthatunpleasantthoughtaside,Istartpackingmypapersintomymessengerbag,andwhen
Ireachformylaptoptoputitaway,Iseethere’sane-mailfromAna.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:ConsumerismGoneMad
Date:May27201113:22
To:ChristianGrey
IthinkyouneedtocallDr.Flynnrightnow.
Yourstalkertendenciesarerunningwild.
Iamatwork.Iwille-mailyouwhenIgethome.
Thankyouforyetanothergadget.
Iwasn’twrongwhenIsaidyouweretheultimateconsumer.
Whydoyoudothis?
Ana
She’sscoldingme!Irespondimmediately.
From:ChristianGreySubject:SagacityfromOneSoYoung
Date:May27201113:24
To:AnastasiaSteele
Fairpointwellmade,asever,MissSteele.
Dr.Flynnisonvacation.
AndIdothisbecauseIcan.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Shedoesn’tanswerstraightaway,soIpackmylaptop.Grabbingmybag,Iheaddowntoreceptionandcheckout.While I’mwaiting formycar,Andreacalls to tellme that she’s foundanob-gyn tocometoEscalaonSunday.
“HernameisDr.Greene,andshecomeshighlyrecommendedbyyourM.D.,sir.”“Good.”“SherunsherpracticeoutofNorthwest.”“Okay.”WhereisAndreagoingwiththis?“There’sonethingsir—she’sexpensive.”Idismissherconcern.“Andrea,whatevershewantsisfine.”“Inthatcase,shecanbeatyourapartmentonethirtyonSunday.”“Great.Goahead.”“Willdo,Mr.Grey.”Ihangup,andI’mtemptedtocallmymothertocheckDr.Greene’scredentials,astheyworkin
thesamehospital;butthatmightprovoketoomanyquestionsfromGrace.OnceinthecarIsendAnaane-mailwithdetailsaboutSunday.
From:ChristianGreySubject:SundayDate:May27201113:40
To:AnastasiaSteele
ShallIseeyouat1p.m.Sunday?
ThedoctorwillbeatEscalatoseeyouat1:30.
I’mleavingforSeattlenow.
Ihopeyourmovegoeswell,andIlookforwardtoSunday.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Right.Alldone.IeasetheR8ontotheroadandroartowardI-5.AsIpasstheexitforVancouverI’minspired.IcallAndreaonthehands-freeandaskhertoorganizeahousewarmingpresentforAnaandKate.
“Whatwouldyouliketosend?”“BollingerLaGrandeAnnéeRosé,1999vintage.”“Yes,sir.Anythingelse?”“Whatdoyoumean,anythingelse?”“Flowers?Chocolates?Aballoon?”“Balloon?”“Yes.”“Whatsortofballoons?”“Well…theyhaveeverything.”“Okay.Goodidea—seeifyoucangetahelicopterballoon.”“Yes,sir.Andamessageforthecard?”“ ‘Ladies,goodluckinyournewhome.ChristianGrey.’Gotthat?”“Ihave.What’stheaddress?”Shit.Idon’tknow.“I’lltextittoyoueitherlatertodayortomorrow.Willthatwork?”“Yes,sir.Icangetitdeliveredtomorrow.”“Thanks,Andrea.”“You’rewelcome.”Shesoundssurprised.IhangupandfloormyR8.
BY6:30I’MHOMEandmyearlierebullientmoodhassoured—Istillhaven’theardfromAna.IselectapairofcufflinksfromthedrawersinmyclosetandasIknotmybowtieforthenight’seventIwonderifshe’sokay.Shesaidshewouldcontactmewhenshegothome;I’vecalledhertwice,butI’veheardnothing,andit’spissingmeoff.ItryheroncemoreandthistimeIleaveamessage.
“Ithinkyouneedtolearntomanagemyexpectations.I’mnotapatientman.Ifyousayyouaregoingtocontactmewhenyoufinishwork, thenyoushouldhavethedecencytodoso.OtherwiseIworry,andit’snotanemotionI’mfamiliarwith,andIdon’ttolerateitverywell.Callme.”
Ifshedoesn’tcallsoonIamgoingtoexplode.
I’MSEATEDATAtablewithWhelan,mybanker.I’mhisguestatacharityfunctionforanonprofitthataimstoraiseawarenessofglobalpoverty.
“Gladyoucouldmakeit,”Whelansays.“It’sagoodcause.”“And thank you for your generous contribution,Mr. Grey.” His wife is cloying, thrusting her
perfect,surgicallyenhancedbreastsinmydirection.“LikeIsaid,it’sagoodcause.”Igiveherapatronizingsmile.Whyhasn’tAnacalledmeback?Icheckmyphoneagain.Nothing.I lookaroundthetableatall themiddle-agedmenwiththeirsecondorthirdtrophywives.God
forbidthisshouldeverbeme.I’mbored.Seriouslyboredandseriouslypissed.Whatisshedoing?Could I have brought her here? I suspect she would have been bored stiff, too. When the
conversation around the table moves to the state of the economy, I’ve had enough. Making myexcuses,Ileavetheballroomandexitthehotel.Whilethevaletisretrievingmycar,IcallAnaagain.
There’sstillnoanswer.PerhapsnowthatI’mgoneshewantsnothingtodowithme.WhenIgethome,IheadstraighttomystudyandswitchontheiMac.
From:ChristianGreySubject:WhereAreYou?
Date:May27201122:14
To:AnastasiaSteele
“Iamatwork.Iwille-mailyouwhenIgethome.”
Areyoustillatworkorhaveyoupackedyourphone,BlackBerry,andMacBook?
Callme,orImaybeforcedtocallElliot.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
IstareoutofmywindowtowardthedarkwatersoftheSound.WhydidIvolunteertocollectMia?I couldbewithAna,helpingherpackallher shit, thengoingout forpizzawithher andKate andElliot—orwhateverordinarypeopledo.
ForGod’ssake,Grey.That’snotyou.Getagrip.I wander around my apartment, my footsteps echoing through the living room, and it seems
achinglyemptysinceIwaslasthere.Iundomybowtie.Perhapsit’smethat’sempty.IpourmyselfanArmagnacandstarebackoutattheSeattleskylinetowardtheSound.
Areyouthinkingaboutme,AnastasiaSteele?ThewinkinglightsofSeattlehavenoanswer.Myphonebuzzes.Thank.Fuck.Finally.It’sher.“Hi.”I’mrelievedthatshe’scalled.“Hi,”shesays.“Iwasworriedaboutyou.”“Iknow.I’msorryIdidn’treply,butI’mfine.”Fine?IwishIwas…“Didyouhaveapleasantevening?”Iask,reininginmytemper.“Yes.Wefinishedpacking,andKateandIhadChinesetakeoutwithJosé.”Oh,thisjustgetsbetterandbetter.Thefuckingphotographeragain.That’swhyshehasn’tcalled.“How about you?” she inquires when I don’t respond, and there’s a hint of desperation in her
voice.Why?Whatisn’tshetellingme?Oh,stopoverthinkingthis,Grey!Isigh.“Iwenttoafund-raisingdinner.Itwasdeathlydull.IleftassoonasIcould.”“Iwishyouwerehere,”shewhispers.“Doyou?”“Yes,”shesaysfervently.Oh.Perhapsshe’smissedme.“I’llseeyouSunday?”Iconfirm,tryingtokeepthehopeoutofmyvoice.“Yes,Sunday,”shesays,andIthinkshe’ssmiling.“Goodnight.”“Goodnight,Sir.”Hervoiceishuskyandittakesmybreathaway.“Goodluckwithyourmovetomorrow,Anastasia.”Shestaysontheline,herbreathingsoft.Whydoesn’tshehangup?Shedoesn’twantto?“Youhangup,”shewhispers.Shedoesn’twanttohangupandmymoodlightensimmediately.IgrinoutattheviewofSeattle.
“No,youhangup.”“Idon’twantto.”“NeitherdoI.”“Wereyouveryangrywithme?”sheasks.“Yes.”“Areyoustill?”“No.”NowIknowyou’resafe.“Soyou’renotgoingtopunishme?”“No.I’manin-the-momentkindofguy.”“I’venoticed,”sheteases,andthatmakesmesmile.“Youcanhangupnow,MissSteele.”“Doyoureallywantmeto,Sir?”“Gotobed,Anastasia.”“Yes,Sir.”Shedoesn’thangup,andIknowshe’sgrinning.Itliftsmyspiritshigher.“Doyoueverthinkyou’ll
beabletodowhatyou’retold?”Iask.“Maybe.We’llseeafterSunday,”shesays,temptressthatsheis,andthelinegoesdead.AnastasiaSteele,whatamIgoingtodowithyou?Actually, Ihaveagood idea,provided that ridingcrop turnsup in time.Andwith thatenticing
thoughtItossdowntherestoftheArmagnacandgotobed.
SATURDAY,MAY28,2011
“Christian!” Mia squeals with delight and runs toward me, abandoning her cartload of luggage.Throwingherarmsaroundmyneck,shehugsmetightly.
“I’vemissedyou,”shesays.“I’ve missed you, too.” I give her a squeeze in return. She leans back and examines me with
intensedarkeyes.“Youlookgood,”shegushes.“Tellmeaboutthisgirl!”“Let’sgetyouandyourluggagehomefirst.”Igrabhercart,whichweighsaton,andtogetherwe
headoutoftheairportterminaltowardtheparkinglot.“SohowwasParis?Youappeartohavebroughtmostofithomewithyou.”“C’est incroyable!” she exclaims. “Floubert, on the other hand, was a bastard. Jesus. He was a
horribleman.Acrapteacherbutagoodchef.”“Doesthatmeanyou’recookingthisevening?”“Oh,IwashopingMomwouldcook.”MiaproceedstotalknonstopaboutParis:hertinyroom,theplumbing,Sacré-Coeur,Montmartre,
Parisians,coffee,redwine,cheese,fashion,shopping.Butmainlyaboutfashionandshopping.AndIthoughtshewenttoParistolearntocook.
I’vemissedherchatter;it’ssoothingandwelcome.SheistheonlypersonIknowwhodoesn’tmakemefeel…different.
“Thisisyourbabysister,Christian.HernameisMia.”Mommyletsmeholdher.Sheisverysmall.Withblack,blackhair.Shesmiles.Shehasnoteeth.Istickoutmytongue.Shehasabubblylaugh.Mommyletsmeholdthebabyagain.HernameisMia.Imakeherlaugh.Iholdherandholdher.SheissafewhenIholdher.ElliotisnotinterestedinMia.Shedribblesandcries.Andhewrinkleshisnosewhenshedoesapoop.WhenMiaiscryingElliotignoresher.Iholdherandholdherandshestops.Shefallsasleepinmyarms.“Meea,”Iwhisper.“Whatdidyousay?”Mommyasks,andherfaceiswhitelikechalk.“Meea.”“Yes.Yes.Darlingboy.Mia.HernameisMia.”AndMommystartstocrywithhappy,happytears.
I TURN INTO THE driveway, pull up outsideMom andDad’s front door, unloadMia’s luggage, andcarryitintothehall.
“Whereiseveryone?”Miais infullpout.Theonlypersonaroundismyparents’housekeeper—she’sanexchangestudent,andIcan’trememberhername.“Welcomehome,”shesaystoMiainherstiltedEnglish,thoughshe’slookingatmewithbigcoweyes.
Oh,God.It’sjustaprettyface,sweetheart.Ignoring the housekeeper, I addressMia’s question. “I thinkMom is on call and Dad is at a
conference.Youdidcomehomeaweekearly.”“I couldn’t standFloubert anotherminute. I had to get outwhile I could.Oh, I bought you a
present.” She grabs one of her cases, opens it up in the hallway, and starts rummaging through it.“Ah!”Shehandsmeaheavysquarebox.“Openit,”sheurges,beamingatme.Sheisanunstoppableforce.
WarilyIopenthebox,andinsideIfindasnowglobecontainingablackgrandpianocoveredinglitter.It’sthekitschiestthingI’veeverseen.
“It’samusicbox.Here—”Shetakesitfromme,givesitagoodshake,andwindsasmallkeyonthebottom.Atwinklyversionof“LaMarseillaise”startstoplayinacloudofcoloredglitter.
WhatamIgoingtodowiththis?Ilaugh,becauseit’ssoMia.“That’sgreat,Mia.Thankyou.”Igiveherahugandshehugsmeback.
“Iknewitwouldmakeyoulaugh.”She’sright.Sheknowsmewell.“Sotellmeaboutthisgirl,”shesays.Butwe’rebothdistractedasGracehurriesthroughthedoor,
allowingme a reprieve asmother anddaughter embrace. “I’m so sorry Iwasn’t there tomeet you,darling,”Grace says. “I’ve been on call. You look so grownup.Christian, can you takeMia’s bagsupstairs?Gretchenwillgiveyouahand.”
Really?I’maporternow?“Yes,Mom.”Irollmyeyes.Idon’tneedGretchenmooningoverme.Once that’s done, I tell them that I have an appointment with my trainer. “I’ll be back this
evening.”Quicklykissingthemboth,IleavebeforeI’mpesteredwithmorequestionsaboutAna.
BASTILLE,MYTRAINER,WORKSmehard.Todaywe’rekickboxingathisgym.“You’vegonesoftinPortland,boy.”HesneersafterI’mtoppledontothematfromhisroundhouse
kick.Bastilleisfromthehard-knocksschoolofphysicaltraining,whichsuitsmefine.Iscrambletomyfeet.Iwanttotakehimdown.Buthe’sright—he’sallovermyshittoday,andI
getnowhere.Whenwefinishheasks,“Whatgives?You’redistracted,man.”“Life.Youknow,”Ianswerwithanairofindifference.“Sure.You’rebackinSeattlethisweek?”“Yeah.”“Good.We’llstraightenyouout.”
ASIJOGBACKtotheapartmentIrememberthehousewarmingpresentforAna.ItextElliot.
What’sAnaandKate’saddress?
Iwanttosurprisethemwithapresent.
He textsmebackanaddress and I forward it toAndrea.As I’m riding in theelevatorup to thepenthouse,Andreatextsmeback.
Champagneandballoonsent.A.
TaylorhandsmeapackagewhenIarrivebackattheapartment.“Thiscameforyou,Mr.Grey.”Ohyes.Irecognizetheanonymouswrapping:it’stheridingcrop.“Thanks.”“Mrs.Jonessaidshe’dbebacktomorrow,lateafternoon.”“Okay.Ithinkthat’sallfortoday,Taylor.”“Verygood,sir,”hesayswithapolitesmile,andreturnstohisoffice.Takingthecrop,Istrollinto
mybedroom.Thiswillbe theperfect introduction tomyworld:byherownadmissionAnahasnosphereofreferencewithregardtocorporalpunishment,exceptthespankingIgaveherthatnight.Andthatturnedheron.Withthecrop,I’llhavetotakeitslowandmakeitpleasurable.
Reallypleasurable.Theridingcropisperfect.I’llprovetoherthatthefearisinherhead.Onceshegetscomfortablewiththis,wecanmoveon.
Ihopewecanmoveon…We’lltakeitslow.Andwe’llonlydowhatshecanhandle.If thisisgoingtoworkwe’regoingto
havetogoatherpace.Notmine.Itakeonemorelookatthecropandputitinmyclosetfortomorrow.
ASIFLIPOPENmylaptoptostartworkmyphonerings.Ihopeit’sAna,butit’sdisappointinglyElena.WasIsupposedtocallher?“Hello,Christian.Howareyou?”“Good,thanks.”“You’rebackfromPortland?”“Yes.”“Fancydinnertonight?”“Nottonight.Mia’sjustinfromParisandI’vebeenorderedhome.”“Ah.ByMamaGrey.Howisshe?”“MamaGrey?She’sgood.Ithink.Why?WhatdoyouknowthatIdon’t?”“Iwasjustasking,Christian.Don’tbesotouchy.”“I’llcallyounextweek.Maybewecandodinnerthen.”“Good.You’vebeenofftheradarforawhile.AndI’vemetawomanwhoIthinkmightmeetyour
needs.”SohaveI.
Iignorehercomment.“I’llseeyounextweek.Good-bye.”AsIshowerIwonderifhavingtochaseAnahasmadehermoreinteresting…orisitAnaherself?
DINNERHASBEENFUN.Mysisterisback,theprincessshe’salwaysbeen,therestofthefamilymerelyherminions,wrappedaroundherlittlefinger.Withallherchildrenhome,Graceisinherelement;she’scookedMia’sfavoritemeal—buttermilkfriedchickenwithmashedpotatoesandgravy.
Ihavetosay,it’soneofmyfavorites,too.“TellmeaboutAnastasia,”Miademandsaswesitaroundthekitchentable.Elliotleansbackin
hischairandrestshishandsbehindhishead.“ThisIhavetohear.Youknowshepoppedhischerry?”“Elliot!”Gracescolds,andswatshimwithadishtowel.“Ow!”Hefendsheroff.Irollmyeyesatallofthem.“Imetagirl.”Ishrug.“Endofstory.”“Youcan’tjustsaythat!”Miaobjects,pouting.“Mia,Ithinkhecan.Andhejustdid.”Carrickgivesherareprovingpaternalstareoverhisglasses.“You’llallmeetheratdinnertomorrow,won’twe,Christian?”Gracesayswithapointedsmile.Oh,fuck.“Kate’scoming,”Elliotgoads.Fuckingstirrer.Iglareathim.“Ican’twaittomeether.Shesoundsawesome!”Miabouncesupanddowninherchair.“Yeah,yeah,”Imumble,wonderingifthere’sanywayIcanwriggleoutofdinnertomorrow.“Elenawasaskingafteryou,darling,”Gracesays.“Shewas?”Iaffectanuninterestedair,developedoveryearsofpractice.“Yes.Shesaysshehasn’tseenyouinawhile.”“I’vebeen inPortlandonbusiness.Speakingofwhich, I shouldgetgoing—Ihavean important
calltomorrowandIneedtoprepare.”“Butyou’venothaddessert.Andit’sapplecobbler.”Hmm…tempting.ButifIstaythey’llquizmeaboutAna.“Ihavetogo.Ihaveworktodo.”“Darling,youworktoohard,”Gracesays,asshestartsfromherchair.“Don’tgetup,Mom.I’msureElliotwillhelpwiththedishesafterdinner.”“What?”Elliotscowls.Iwinkathim,saymygood-byes,andturntoleave.“Butwe’llseeyoutomorrow?”Graceasks,toomuchhopeinhervoice.“We’llsee.”Shit.ItlookslikeAnastasiaSteeleisgoingtomeetmyfamily.Idon’tknowhowIfeelaboutthis.
SUNDAY,MAY29,2011
With theRollingStones’ “ShakeYourHips”blasting inmyears, I sprintdownFourthAvenueandturn right onVine. It’s 6:45 in themorning, and it’s downhill all theway…to her apartment. I’mdrawn;Ijustwanttoseewhereshelives.
It’sbetweencontrolfreakandstalker.Ichuckletomyself.I’mjustrunning.It’safreecountry.Theapartmentblockisanondescriptredbrick,withdarkgreenpaintedwindowframestypicalof
thearea.It’sinagoodlocationneartheintersectionofVineStreetandWestern.IimagineAnacurledupinherbedunderhercomforterandhercream-and-bluequilt.
Irunseveralblocksandturndownintothemarket;thevendorsaresettingupforbusiness.Idodgebetweenthefruitandvegetabletrucksandtherefrigeratedvansdeliveringthecatchoftheday.Thisistheheartofthecity—vibrant,eventhisearlyonagray,coolmorning.ThewaterontheSoundisaglassyleadencolor,matchingthesky.Butitdoesnothingtodampenmyspirits.
Today’stheday.
AFTERMYSHOWERIdonjeansandalinenshirt,andfrommychestofdrawersItakeoutahairtie.Islipitintomypocketandheadintomystudytoe-mailAna.
From:ChristianGreySubject:MyLifeinNumbers
Date:May29201108:04
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ifyoudriveyou’llneedthisaccesscodefortheundergroundgarageatEscala:146963.
Parkinbayfive—it’soneofmine.
Codefortheelevator:1880.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Amomentortwolater,there’saresponse.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:AnExcellentVintage
Date:May29201108:08
To:ChristianGrey
Yes,Sir.Understood.
Thankyouforthechampagneandtheblow-upCharlieTango,whichisnowtiedtomybed.
Ana
AnimageofAnatetheredtoherbedwithmytiecomestomind.Ishiftinmychair.Ihopeshe’sbroughtthatbedtoSeattle.
From:ChristianGreySubject:EnvyDate:May29201108:11
To:AnastasiaSteele
You’rewelcome.
Don’tbelate.
LuckyCharlieTango.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Shedoesn’trespond,soIhuntthroughtherefrigeratorforsomebreakfast.Gailhasleftmesomecroissantsand,forlunch,aCaesarsaladwithchicken,enoughfortwo.IhopeAnawilleatthis;Idon’tmindhavingittwodaysinarow.
TaylorappearswhileI’meatingmybreakfast.“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.HerearetheSundaypapers.”“Thanks.Anastasiaiscomingoveratonetoday,andaDr.Greeneatonethirty.”“Verygood,sir.Anythingelseontheagendatoday?”“Yes.AnaandIwillbegoingtomyparents’fordinnerthisevening.”Taylorcockshishead,lookingmomentarilysurprised,butheremembershimselfandleavesthe
room.Ireturntomycroissantandapricotjam.Yeah.I’mtakinghertomeetmyparents.What’sthebigdeal?
ICAN’TSETTLE.I’Mrestless.It’s12:15p.m.Timeiscrawlingtoday.Igiveuponworkand,grabbingtheSundaypapers,wanderbackintothelivingroom,whereIswitchonsomemusicandread.
Tomysurprisethere’saphotographofAnaandmeonthelocalnewspage,takenatthegraduationceremonyatWSU.Shelookslovely,ifalittlestartled.
Ihearthedoubledoorsopen,andtheresheis…Herhairisloose,alittlewildandsexy,andshe’swearingthatpurpledresssheworetodinneratTheHeathman.Shelooksgorgeous.
Bravo,MissSteele.“Hmm,thatdress.”MyvoiceisfullofadmirationasIsauntertowardher.“Welcomeback,Miss
Steele,”Iwhisper,and,holdingherchin,Igiveheratenderkissonthelips.“Hi,”shesays,hercheeksalittlerosy.“You’reontime.Ilikepunctual.Come.”Takingherhand,Ileadhertothesofa.“Iwantedtoshow
yousomething.”Webothsit,andIpassherTheSeattleTimes.Thephotographmakesherlaugh.NotquitethereactionIwasexpecting.
“SoI’myour‘friend’now,”sheteases.“Soitwouldappear.Andit’sinthenewspaper,soitmustbetrue.”I’mcalmernowthatshe’shere—probablybecauseshe’shere.Shehasn’trun.Ituckhersoft,silky
hairbehindherear;myfingersareitchingtobraidit.“So,Anastasia,youhaveamuchbetterideaofwhatI’maboutsinceyouwerelasthere.”“Yes.”Hergazeisintense…knowing.“Andyetyou’vereturned.”Shenods,givingmeacoysmile.Ican’tbelievemyluck.Iknewyouwereafreak,Ana.“Haveyoueaten?”“No.”Notatall?Okay.We’llhavetofixthis.Idragmyhandthroughmyhair,andinasevenatoneasI
canmanageIask,“Areyouhungry?”“Notforfood,”sheteases.Whoa.Shemightaswellbeaddressingmygroin.Leaningforward,Ipressmylipstoherearandcatchherintoxicatingscent.“Youareaseageras
ever,Miss Steele—and just to let you in on a little secret, so am I. But Dr. Greene is due hereshortly.”
Ileanagainstthesofa.“Iwishyou’deat.”It’saplea.“WhatcanyoutellmeaboutDr.Greene?”Shedeftlychangesthesubject.“She’sthebestob-gyninSeattle.WhatmorecanIsay?”That’swhatmydoctortoldmyPA,anyway.“I thought Iwas seeing your doctor? And don’t tellme you’re really awoman, because Iwon’t
believeyou.”Isuppressmysnort.“Ithinkit’smoreappropriatethatyouseeaspecialist.Don’tyou?”Shegivesmeaquizzicallook,butshenods.Onemoretopictotackle.“Anastasia,mymotherwouldlikeyoutocometodinnerthisevening.I
believe Elliot is asking Kate, too. I don’t know how you feel about that. It will be odd forme tointroduceyoutomyfamily.”
Shetakesasecondtoprocesstheinformation,thentossesherhairoverhershoulderinthatwayshedoesbeforeafight.Butshelookshurt,notargumentative.“Areyouashamedofme?”Shesounds
choked.Oh,forheaven’ssake.“Ofcoursenot.”Ofalltheridiculousthingstosay!Iglareather,aggrieved.
Howcouldshethinkthataboutherself?“Whyisitodd?”sheasks.“BecauseI’veneverdoneitbefore.”Isoundirritable.“Whyareyouallowedtorollyoureyes,andI’mnot?”“Iwasn’tawarethatIwas.”She’scallingmeout.Again.“NeitheramI,usually,”shesnaps.Shit.Arewearguing?Taylorclearshisthroat.“Dr.Greeneishere,sir,”hesays.“ShowheruptoMissSteele’sroom.”AnaturnsandlooksatmeandIholdoutmyhandtoher.“You’renotgoingtocomeaswell,areyou?”She’shorrifiedandamusedatonce.Ilaugh,andmybodystirs.“I’dpayverygoodmoneytowatch,believeme,Anastasia,butIdon’t
thinkthegooddoctorwouldapprove.”Sheplacesherhandinmine,andIpullherupintomyarmsandkissher.Hermouthissoftandwarmandinviting;myhandsglideintoherhairandIdeepenthekiss.WhenIpullaway,shelooksdazed.Ipressmyforeheadtohers.“I’msogladyou’rehere.Ican’twaittogetyounaked.”Ican’tbelievehowmuchImissedyou.“Comeon.IwanttomeetDr.Greene,too.”
“Youdon’tknowher?”“No.”ItakeAna’shandandweheadupstairs,towhatwillbeherbedroom.Dr. Greene has one of those myopic stares; it’s penetrating and that makes me a tad
uncomfortable.“Mr.Grey,”shesays,shakingmyoutstretchedhandwithafirm,no-nonsensegrip.“Thankyouforcomingonsuchshortnotice.”Iflashhermymostbenignsmile.“Thankyouformakingitworthmywhile,Mr.Grey.MissSteele,”shesayspolitelytoAna,andI
knowshe’ssizingupourrelationship.I’msurethatshethinksIshouldbetwiddlingamustachelikeasilent-movievillain.Sheturnsandgivesmeapointed“leavenow”kindoflook.
Okay.“I’llbedownstairs,”Iacquiesce.ThoughIwouldliketowatch.I’msurethegooddoctor’sreaction
wouldbepriceless if Imade that request. I smirk at the thought andheaddownstairs to the livingroom.
NowthatAna’snolongerwithme,I’mrestlessagain.AsadistractionIsetthecounterwithtwoplacemats.It’sthesecondtimeI’vedonethis,andthefirsttimewasforAna,too.
You’regoingsoft,Grey.IselectaChablistohavewithlunch—oneofthefewchardonnaysIlike—andwhenI’mdoneI
takeaseatonthesofaandbrowsethroughthesportssectionofthepaper.TurningupthevolumeviatheremoteformyiPod,Ihopethemusicwillhelpmefocusonstatsfromlastnight’sMarinerswinagainsttheYankees,ratherthanwhat’shappeningupstairsbetweenAnaandDr.Greene.
Eventuallytheirfootstepsechointhecorridor,andIlookupastheyenter.“Areyoudone?”Iask,andhittheremotefortheiPod,toquietthearia.
“Yes,Mr.Grey.Lookafterher;she’sabeautiful,brightyoungwoman.”WhathasAnatoldher?“Ifullyintendto,”Isay,withaquickwhat-the-fuckglanceatAna.Shebatsherlashes,clueless.Good.It’snothingshe’ssaid,then.“I’llsendyoumybill,”saysDr.Greene.“Goodday,andgoodlucktoyou,Ana.”Theedgesofher
eyescrinklewithawarmsmileasweshakehands.Taylorescortshertowardtheelevatorandwiselyclosesthedoubledoorstothefoyer.“Howwasthat?”Iask,alittlebemusedbyDr.Greene’swords.“Fine,thankyou,”Anaanswers.“ShesaidthatIhadtoabstainfromallsexualactivityforthenext
fourweeks.”Whatthehell?Igapeatherinshock.Ana’searnestexpressiondissolvesintooneoftauntingtriumph.“Gotcha!”Wellplayed,MissSteele.Myeyesnarrowandhergrinvanishes.“Gotcha!” I can’t helpmy smirk. Reaching around her waist, I pull her against me, my body
hungeringforher.“Youareincorrigible,MissSteele.”Iweavemyhandsthroughherhairandkissherhard,wonderingifIshouldfuckheroverthekitchencounterasalesson.
Allingoodtime,Grey.“AsmuchasI’dliketotakeyouhereandnow,youneedtoeatandsodoI.Idon’twantyoupassing
outonmelater,”Iwhisper.“Isthatallyouwantmefor—mybody?”sheasks.“Thatandyoursmartmouth.”Ikissheroncemore,thinkingofwhat’stocome…Mykissdeepens
anddesirehardensmybody.Iwantthiswoman.BeforeIfuckheronthefloor,Ireleaseher,andwe’rebothbreathless.
“What’sthemusic?”shesays,hervoicehoarse.“Villa-Lobos,anariafromBachianasBrasileiras.Good,isn’tit?”“Yes,”shesays,gazingatthebreakfastbar.ItakethechickenCaesaroutofthefridge,placeiton
thetablebetweentheplacemats,andaskherifshe’sokaywithsalad.“Yes,fine,thankyou.”Shesmiles.FromthewinefridgeItakeouttheChablis,feelinghereyesonme.Ididn’tknowIcouldbeso
domestic.“Whatareyouthinking?”Iask.“Iwasjustwatchingthewayyoumove.”“And?”Iask,momentarilysurprised.“You’reverygraceful,”shesaysquietly,hercheekspink.“Why,thankyou,MissSteele.”Isitbesideher,unsurehowtorespondtohersweetcompliment.
Nobody’scalledmegracefulbefore.“Chablis?”“Please.”
“Helpyourselftosalad.Tellme—whatmethoddidyouoptfor?”“Minipill,”shesays.“Andwillyouremembertotakeitregularly,attherighttime,everyday?”A blush steals across her surprised face. “I’m sure you’ll remind me,” she says with a hint of
sarcasm,whichIchoosetoignore.Youshouldhavehadtheshot.“I’llputanalarmonmycalendar.Eat.”Shetakesabite,thenanother…andanother.She’seating!“SoIcanputchickenCaesaronthelistforMrs.Jones?”Iask.“IthoughtI’dbedoingthecooking.”“Yes.Youwill.”ShefinishesbeforeIdo.Shemusthavebeenstarving.“Eagerasever,MissSteele?”“Yes,”shesays,givingmeademurelookfrombeneathherlashes.Fuck.Thereitis.Theattraction.Asifunderherspell,Igetupandtugherintomyarms.“Doyouwanttodothis?”Iwhisper,inwardlybegginghertosayyes.“Ihaven’tsignedanything.”“Iknow—butI’mbreakingalltherulesthesedays.”“Areyougoingtohitme?”“Yes, but it won’t be to hurt you. I don’t want to punish you right now. If you’d caught me
yesterdayevening,well,thatwouldhavebeenadifferentstory.”Herfaceturnstoshock.Oh,baby.“Don’tletanyonetrytoconvinceyouotherwise,Anastasia.Oneofthereasonspeople
likeme todo this isbecauseweeither like togiveor receivepain. It’s very simple.Youdon’t, so Ispentagreatdealoftimeyesterdaythinkingaboutthat.”
Iwrapmyarmsaroundher,holdingheragainstmyhardeningerection.“Didyoureachanyconclusions?”shewhispers.“No,andrightnow,Ijustwanttotieyouupandfuckyousenseless.Areyoureadyforthat?”Herexpressionisdarker,sensual,andfullofcarnalcuriosity.“Yes,”shesays,thewordassoftasa
sigh.Thankfuck.“Good.Come.”Ileadherupstairsandintomyplayroom.Mysafeplace.WhereIcandowhatI
wishwithher.Iclosemyeyes,brieflysavoringtheexhilaration.HaveIeverbeenthisexcited?Pushing the door shut behind us, I release her hand and study her.Her lips are parted as she
inhales;herbreathingisquickandshallow.Hereyesarewide.Ready.Waiting.
“Whenyou’reinhere,youarecompletelymine.TodowithasIseefit.Doyouunderstand?”Hertonguequicklylicksherupperlip,andshenods.Goodgirl.“Takeyourshoesoff.”Sheswallowsandproceedstotakeoffherhigh-heeledsandals.Ipickthemupandputthemneatly
bythedoor.“Good.Don’t hesitatewhen I ask you to do something.Now I’m going to peel you out of this
dress.SomethingI’vewantedtodoforafewdays,ifIrecall.”Ipause,checkingthatshe’sstillwithme.“Iwantyoutobecomfortablewithyourbody,Anastasia.
Youhaveabeautifulbody,andIliketolookatit.Itisajoytobehold.Infact,Icouldgazeatyouallday,andIwantyouunembarrassedandunashamedofyournakedness.Doyouunderstand?”
“Yes.”“Yes,what?”Mytoneissharper.“Yes,Sir.”“Doyoumeanthat?”Iwantyouunashamed,Ana.“Yes,Sir.”“Good.Liftyourarmsupoveryourhead.”Slowly she raises her arms in the air. I grab the hem and gently pull the dress up her body,
revealingitinchbyinch,formyeyesonly.Whenit’soffIstandbacksoIcanhavemyfillofher.Legs,thighs,belly,ass,tits,shoulders,face,mouth…she’sperfect.Foldingherdress,Iplaceiton
thetoychest.Reachingup,Itugherchin.“You’rebitingyourlip.Youknowwhatthatdoestome,”Iscold.“Turnaround.”
Shecomplies and turns to face thedoor. Iunfastenherbraandpull the strapsdownherarms,skimmingherskinwithmyfingertipsasIdoandfeelinghertremblebeneathmytouch.Itakeoffherbra and toss it on top of her dress. I stand close, not quite touching her, listening to her rapidbreathingandsensing thewarmthradiatingoffher skin.She’sexcitedandshe’snot theonlyone. Igatherherhairinbothofmyhandssoitfallsdownherback.It’soh-so-silkytotouch.Iwinditaroundonehandandtug,anglingherheadtoonesideandexposinghernecktomymouth.
Irunmynosefromhereartohershoulderandbackagain,inhalingherheavenlyscent.Fuck,shesmellsgood.“Yousmellasdivineasever,Anastasia.”Iplaceakissbeneathherearjustaboveherpulse.Shemoans.“Quiet.Don’tmakeasound.”Frommy jeans pocket I grab the hair tie, and taking her hair inmy hands, I braid it, slowly,
enjoyingthepullandtwistagainstherbeautiful,flawlessback.DeftlyIfastentheendwiththehairtieandgiveitaquicktug,forcinghertostepbackandpressherbodyintomine.“Ilikeyourhairbraidedinhere,”Iwhisper.“Turnaround.”
Shedoesso,immediately.“When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress. Just in your panties. Do you
understand?”“Yes.”“Yes,what?”“Yes,Sir.”“Goodgirl.”She’slearningfast.Herarmsarebyhersides,hereyestrainedonmine.Waiting.“WhenItellyoutocomeinhere,Iexpectyoutokneeloverthere.”Ipointtothecornerofthe
roombesidethedoor.“Doitnow.”Sheblinksacoupleoftimes,butbeforeIhavetotellheragain,sheturnsandkneels,facingme
andtheroom.Igiveherpermissiontositbackonherheelsandsheobliges.“Placeyourhandsandforearmsflat
onyour thighs.Good.Nowpartyourknees.Wider.”Iwanttoseeyou,baby. “Wider.”Seeyour sex.“Perfect.Lookdownatthefloor.”
Don’t lookatmeortheroom.Youcansit thereandletyourthoughtsrunwildwhileyouimaginewhatI’mgoingtodotoyou.
Iwalkovertoher,andI’mpleasedthatshekeepsherheadbowed.Reachingdown,Itugherbraid,tiltingherheadsothatoureyesmeet.“Willyourememberthisposition,Anastasia?”
“Yes,Sir.”“Good.Stayhere,don’tmove.”Walkingpasther,Iopenthedoorandforamomentlookbackather.Herheadisbowed;hereyes
stayfixedonthefloor.Whatawelcomesight.Goodgirl.Iwanttorun,butIcontainmyeagernessandwalkpurposefullydownstairstomybedroom.Maintainsomefuckingdignity,Grey.InmyclosetIstripoffallmyclothesandfromadrawerpulloutmyfavoritejeans.MyDJs.Dom
jeans.Islipthemonandfastenallthebuttonsexceptthetopone.FromthesamedrawerIretrievethe
newridingcropandagraywafflerobe.AsIleaveIgrabafewcondomsandstuffthemintomypocket.Heregoes.Showtime,Grey.WhenIgetbackshe’sinthesameposition:herheadbowed,herbraidhangingdownherback,her
hands on her knees. I close the door and hang the robe on its hook. I walk past her. “Good girl,Anastasia.Youlooklovelylikethat.Welldone.Standup.”
Shestands,keepingherheaddown.“Youmaylookatme.”Eagerblueeyespeekup.“I’mgoingtochainyounow,Anastasia.Givemeyourrighthand.”Iholdoutmineandsheplaces
herhandinit.WithouttakingmyeyesoffhersIturnherhandpalmup,andfrombehindmybackproduce the riding crop. I quickly flick the end across her palm. She startles and cups her hand,blinkingatmeinsurprise.
“Howdoesthatfeel?”Iask.Herbreathingaccelerates,andsheglancesatmebeforelookingbackatherpalm.“Answerme.”“Okay.”Herbrowsknittogether.“Don’tfrown,”Iwarn.“Didthathurt?”“No.”“Thisisnotgoingtohurt.Doyouunderstand?”“Yes.”Hervoiceisalittleshaky.“Imeanit,”Istress,andIshowherthecrop.Brownplaitedleather.See?Ilisten.Hereyesmeet
mine,astonished.Mylipstwitchinamusement.“Weaimtoplease,MissSteele.Come.”Ileadhertothemiddleoftheroom,beneaththerestrainingsystem.“Thisgridisdesignedsothe
shacklesmoveacrossthegrid.”Shestaresupattheintricatesystem,thenbackatme.“We’regoing to starthere,but Iwant to fuckyoustandingup.Sowe’llendupby thewallover
there.”IpointtotheSaintAndrew’scross.“Putyourhandsaboveyourhead.”Shedoes,immediately.Takingtheleathercuffsthathangonthegrid,Ifastenonetoeachofher
wrists inturn.I’mmethodical,butshe’sdistracting.Beingthisclosetoher,sensingherexcitement,heranxiety,touchingher.Ifindithardtoconcentrate.Onceshe’scuffedIstepbackandtakeadeepbreath,relieved.
FinallyI’vegotyouwhereIwantyou,AnaSteele.SlowlyIwalkaroundher,admiringtheview.Couldshelookhotter?“Youlookmightyfinetrussed
uplikethis,MissSteele.Andyoursmartmouthquietfornow.Ilikethat.”Istop,facingher,curlmyfingersintoherpanties,andohsoslowlydragthemdownherlonglegsuntilI’mkneelingatherfeet.
Worshippingher.She’sglorious.Withmyeyeslockedonhers,Itakeherpanties,crushthemtomynose,andinhaledeeply.Her
mouthpopsopenandhereyeswideninamusedshock.Yes.Ismirk.Perfectreaction.Islipthepantiesintothebackpocketofmyjeansandstand,consideringmynextmove.Holding
outthecrop,Irunitoverherbellyandgentlycirclehernavelwiththekeeper…theleathertongue.Shesucksinherbreathandtremorsatthetouch.
Thiswillbegood,Ana.Trustme.SlowlyIbegintocircleher,drawingthecropacrossherskin,acrossherbelly,herflank,herback.
OnmysecondcircuitIflickthetongueatthebaseofherbehindsoitmakessharpcontactwithhervulva.
“Ah!”shecries,andshetugsagainsttheshackles.“Quiet,”Iwarn,andprowlaroundheroncemore.Iflickthecropagainstherinthesamesweet
spotandshewhinesoncontact,hereyesclosedassheabsorbsthesensation.Withanothertwitchofmywrist,thecropsnapsagainsthernipple.Shethrowsherheadbackandmoans.Iaimagain,andthecroplicksherothernipple,andIwatchithardenandlengthenbeneaththebiteoftheleatherkeeper.
“Doesthatfeelgood?”“Yes,”sherasps,eyesclosed,headback.Ismackheracrossherbehind,harderthistime.“Yes,what?”“Yes,Sir,”shecries.Slowlyandwithcare,Ilavishstrokes,licks,andflicksoverherstomachandherbelly,downher
body, towardmy goal.Withone flick, the leather tonguebitesher clitoris and she shouts out in agargledcry,“Oh,please!”
“Quiet,”Icommand,andreprimandherwithaharderflickacrossherbackside.Iskimtheleathertonguedownthroughherpubichair,againsthervulvatohervagina.Thebrown
leather is glisteningwithher arousalwhen Ipull it back. “Seehowwet youare for this,Anastasia.Openyoureyesandyourmouth.”
She’s breathing hard, but she parts her lips and stares at me, her eyes dazed and lost in thecarnalityofthemoment.AndIslipthekeeperintohermouth.“Seehowyoutaste.Suck.Suckhard,baby.”
Herlipsclosearoundthetipandit’slikethey’rearoundmydick.Fuck.She’ssofuckinghotandIcan’tresisther.Easingthecropfromhermouth,Iwrapmyarmsaroundher.SheopenshermouthformeasI
kissher,mytongueexploringher,revelinginthetasteofherlust.“Oh,baby,youtastemightyfine,”Iwhisper.“ShallImakeyoucome?”“Please,”shepleads.Oneflickofmywristandthecropsmacksherbehind.“Please,what?”“Please,Sir,”shewhimpers.Goodgirl.Istepback.“Withthis?”Iask,holdingupthecropsoshecanseeit.“Yes,Sir,”shesays,surprisingme.“Areyousure?”Icanbarelybelievemyluck.“Yes,please,Sir.”Oh,Ana.Youfuckinggoddess.“Closeyoureyes.”Shedoesasshe’stold.Andwithinfinitecareandnotalittlegratitude,Irainquick,stinginglicks
overherbellyoncemore.Soonshe’spantingagain,herarousalheightened.Movingsouth,Igentlyflicktheleathertongueoverherclitoris.Again.Andagain.Andagain.
She pulls at her restraints, moaning and moaning. Then she’s quiet and I know she’s close.Suddenly she throws her head back and mouth open and she screams her orgasm as it shuddersthroughherentirebody.InstantlyIdropthecropandgrabher,supportingherasherbodydissolves.Shesagsagainstme.
Oh.We’renotdone,Ana.Withmyhandsunderherthighs,Ilifthertremblingbodyandcarryher,stillshackledtothegrid,
toward theSaintAndrew’scross.ThereI releaseher,holdingherupright,pinnedbetween thecrossandmyshoulders.Itugmyjeans,undoingallthebuttons,andfreeingmycock.Yankingacondomfrommypocket,Iripthefoilpacketwithmyteethandwithonehandrollitovermyerection.
GentlyIpickherupagainandwhisper,“Liftyourlegs,baby,wrapthemaroundme.”Supportingher back against the wood, I help her wrap her legs around my hips, her elbows resting on myshoulders.
Youaremine,baby.WithonethrustI’minsideher.Fuck.She’sexquisite.Itakeamomenttosavorher.ThenIstarttomove,relishingeachthrust.Feelingher,onandon,
myownbreathinglaboredasIgaspforairandlosemyselfinthisbeautifulwoman.Mymouthisopenatherneck,tastingher.Herscentfillsmynostrils,fillsme.Ana.Ana.Ana.Idon’twanttostop.
Suddenlyshetenses,andherbodyconvulsesaroundme.Yes.Again.AndIletgo.Fillingher.Holdingher.Reveringher.Yes.Yes.Yes.She’ssobeautiful.Andsweethell,wasthatmind-blowing.Ipulloutofher,andasshecollapsesagainstmeIquicklyunbuckleherwristsfromthegridand
supportheraswebothsinktothefloor.Icradleherbetweenmylegs,wrappingmyarmsaroundher,andshesagsagainstme,hereyesclosed,breathinghard.
“Welldone,baby.Didthathurt?”“No.”Hervoiceisbarelyaudible.“Didyouexpectitto?”Iask,andIpushstraystrandsofherhairoffherfacesoIcanseeherbetter.“Yes.”“Yousee?Mostofyourfearisinyourhead,Anastasia.”Icaressherface.“Wouldyoudoitagain?”
Iask.Shedoesn’tanswerimmediately,andIthinkshe’sfallenasleep.“Yes,”shewhispersamomentlater.Thankyou,sweetLord.Iwrapherinmyarms.“Good.SowouldI.”Againandagain.TenderlyIkissthetopofherhead
andinhale.ShesmellsofAnaandsweatandsex.“AndIhaven’tfinishedwithyouyet,”Iassert.I’msoproudofher.Shedidit.ShedideverythingIwanted.
She’severythingIwant.AndsuddenlyI’moverwhelmedbyanunfamiliaremotionthatrocksthroughme,slicingthrough
sinewandbone,leavinguneaseandfearinitswake.Sheturnsherheadandstartstonuzzlemychest.The darkness swells, startling and familiar, replacing my unease with a sense of dread. Every
muscleinmybodytenses.Anablinksupatmewithclear,unflinchingeyesasIstruggletocontrolmyfear.
“Don’t,”Iwhisper.Please.
Sheleansbackandpeersatmychest.Getcontrol,Grey.“Kneelbythedoor,”Iorder,uncurlingaroundher.Go.Don’ttouchme.Shakily she gets to her feet and stumbles over to the door, where she resumes her kneeling
position.Itakeadeep,centeringbreath.Whatareyoudoingtome,AnaSteele?Istandandstretch,calmernow.Asshekneelsbythedoor,shelookseverybittheidealsubmissive.Hereyesareglazed;she’stired.
I’msureshe’scomingdownfromtheadrenalinehigh.Hereyelidsdroop.Oh,thiswillneverdo.Youwantherasasubmissive,Grey.Showherwhatthatmeans.Frommydrawer of toys I fish out oneof the cable ties I bought fromClayton’s, and a pair of
scissors.“Boringyou,amI,MissSteele?”Iask,maskingmysympathy.Shestartlesawakeandregardsmeguiltily.“Standup,”Iorder.
Slowlyshegetstoherfeet.“You’reshattered,aren’tyou?”Shenodswithabashfulsmile.Oh,baby,you’vedonesowell.“Stamina,MissSteele.Ihaven’thadmyfillofyouyet.Holdoutyourhandsinfront,asifyou’re
praying.”Acreasemarsher forehead for amoment,but shepressesherpalms togetherandholdsupher
hands.Ifastenthecabletiearoundherwrists.Hereyesflashtominewithrecognition.“Look familiar?” I giveher a smile and runmy finger around theplastic, checking that there’s
enoughroomandit’snottootight.“Ihavescissorshere.”Ibringthemintoherview.“Icancutyououtofthisinamoment.”Shelooksreassured.“Come.”Takingherclaspedhands,Ileadhertothefarcornerof the four-posterbed.“Iwantmore—much,muchmore,”Iwhisper inherearas shestaresdownatthebed.“ButI’llmakethisquick.You’retired.Holdontothepost.”
Halting,shegraspsthewoodenpillar.“Lower,”Iorder.Shemovesherhandsdowntothebaseuntilshe’sbendingover.“Good.Don’tlet
go.Ifyoudo,I’llspankyou.Understand?”“Yes,Sir,”shesays.“Good.”Igrabherhipsandlifthertowardmesoshe’sproperlypositioned,herbeautifulbehindin
theair andatmydisposal. “Don’t let go,Anastasia,” Iwarnher. “I’mgoing to fuck youhard frombehind.Holdtheposttosupportyourweight.Understand?”
“Yes.”Ismackherhardacrossherbackside.“Yes,Sir,”shesaysimmediately.“Partyourlegs.”Ipushmyrightfootagainsthers,wideningherstance.“That’sbetter.Afterthis,
I’llletyousleep.”Herbackisaperfectcurve,eachvertebraoutlinedfromhernapetoherfine,fineass.Itracethe
linewithmyfingers.“Youhavesuchbeautifulskin,Anastasia,”Isaytomyself.Bendingoverher,Ifollowthepathmyfingershavetakenwithtenderkissesdownherspine.AsIdo,Ipalmherbreasts,trappinghernipplesbetweenmyfingers,andtug.Shewrithesbeneathme,andIplantasoftkissatherwaist,thensuckandgentlynipherskinwhileworkinghernipples.
She whimpers. I stop and stand back to admire the view, growing harder just looking at her.Reachingforasecondcondomfrommypocket,Iquicklykickmyjeansoffandopenthefoilpacket.Usingbothhands,Iwrapitaroundmycock.
I’dliketoclaimherass.Now.Butit’stoosoonforthat.“You have such a captivating, sexy ass.What I’d like to do to it.” I strokemy hands over each
cheek,fondlingher,thenslidetwofingersinsideher,stretchingher.Shewhimpersagain.She’sready.“Sowet.Youneverdisappoint,MissSteele.Holdtight.Thisisgoingtobequick,baby.”Clutchingherhips,Ipositionmyselfattheentranceofhervagina,thenreachup,grabherbraid,
winditaroundmywrist,andholdittightly.Withonehandonmycockandtheotheraroundherhair,Islideintoher.
She.Is.So.Fucking.Sweet.SlowlyIslideoutofher,thengripherhipwithmyfreehandandtightenmyholdonherhair.Submissive.Islamintoher,forcingherforwardwithacry.“Holdon,Anastasia!”Iremindher.Ifshedoesn’tshemightgethurt.Breathless,shepushesbackagainstme,bracingherlegs.Goodgirl.ThenIstartpoundingintoher,elicitingsmall,strangledcriesfromherassheclingstothepost.
Butshedoesn’tbackdown.Shepushesback.Bravo,Ana.AndthenIfeelit.Slowly.Herinsidescurlingaroundme.Losingcontrol,Islamintoher,andstill.
“Comeon,Ana,giveittome,”Igrowl,asIcome,hard,herreleaseprolongingmineasIholdherup.Gatheringher inmyarms, I lowerus to the floorwithAnaon topofme,bothofus facing the
ceiling.She’s utterly relaxed, exhaustednodoubt; herweight awelcomecomfort. I stareup at thekarabiners,wonderingifshe’lleverletmesuspendher.
Probablynot.AndIdon’tcare.Ourfirsttimetogetherinhere,andshe’sbeenadream.Ikissherear.“Holdupyourhands.”My
voice ishusky.Slowly, she raises themas if they’reweightedwithconcrete, and I slide the scissorsbeneaththecabletie.
“IdeclarethisAnaopen.”Imurmur,andsnip,freeingher.Shegiggles,herbodyjudderingagainst
mine.It’sastrangeandnotunwelcomefeelingthatmakesmegrin.“Thatissuchalovelysound,”Iwhisperassherubsherwrists.Isitupsothatshe’sinmylap.Ilovemakingherlaugh.Shedoesn’tlaughenough.“That’smyfault,”IadmittomyselfasIrubsomelifebackintohershouldersandarms.Sheturns
herfacetomewithaweary,searchinglook.“Thatyoudon’tgigglemoreoften,”Iclarify.“I’mnotagreatgiggler,”shesays,andyawns.“Oh,butwhenithappens,’tisawonderandjoytobehold.”“Veryflowery,Mr.Grey,”shesays,teasingme.Ismile.“I’dsayyou’rethoroughlyfuckedandinneedofsleep.”“Thatwasn’tfloweryatall,”shescoffs,scoldingme.Liftingheroffmy lapsoIcanstandup, I reach formy jeansandslip themon.“Don’twant to
frightenTaylor,orMrs.Jones,forthatmatter.”Itwouldn’tbethefirsttime.Anasitsinasleepydazeonthefloor.Iclaspherupperarms,helphertoherfeet,andtakeherto
thedoor.From thehookon thebackof thedoor I grab thegray robeanddressher.She’snohelpwhatsoever;shereallyisexhausted.
“Bed,”Iannounce,kissingherquickly.Analarmedexpressioncrossesherdrowsyface.“For sleep,” I reassureher.Andbendingdown, I gatherher inmy arms, cradleher againstmy
chest,andcarryher to the sub’s room.There Ipullback thecomforterand layherdown,and inamomentofweaknessclimbintothebedbesideher.Coveringusbothwiththeduvet,Iembraceher.
I’lljustholdheruntilshe’sasleep.“Sleep now, gorgeous girl.” I kiss her hair feeling utterly sated…and grateful.We did it. This
sweet,innocentwomanletmelooseonher.AndIthinksheenjoyedit.IknowIdid…morethaneverbefore.
Mommysitslookingatmeinthemirrorwiththebigcrack.Ibrushherhair.It’ssoftandsmellsofMommyandflowers.Shetakesthebrushandwindsherhairroundandround.Soit’slikeabumpysnakedownherback.There,shesays.Andsheturnsaroundandsmilesatme.Today,she’shappy.IlikewhenMommyishappy.Ilikeitwhenshesmilesatme.Shelooksprettywhenshesmiles.Let’sbakeapie,Maggot.Applepie.IlikewhenMommybakes.
Iwakesuddenlywithasweetscentinvadingmymind.It’sAna.She’sfastasleepbesideme.Iliebackandstareattheceiling.
WhenhaveIeversleptinthisroom?Never.Thethoughtisunnerving,andforsomeunfathomablereasonitmakesmeuneasy.What’sgoingon,Grey?Isitupcarefully,notwantingtodisturbher,andstaredownathersleepingform.Iknowwhatitis
—I’munsettledbecauseI’minherewithher.Iclimboutofbed,leavinghertosleep,andheadbacktotheplayroom.ThereIcollecttheusedcabletieandcondomsandstashtheminmypocket,whereIfindAna’spanties.Withthecrop,herclothes,andhershoesinhand,Ileaveandlockthedoor.Backinherroom,Ihangherdressontheclosetdoor,placehershoesbeneaththechair,andlayherbraontop.Itakeherpantiesfrommypocket—andawickedideacomestomind.
Ihead formybathroom. Ineeda showerbeforewehead todinnerwithmy family. I’ll letAnasleepawhilelonger.
The piping-hot water cascades over me, washing away all the anxiety and unease that I’d feltearlier.Asfirsttimesgo,thatwasnotbad,foreitherofus.AndI’dthoughtthatarelationshipwithAnawas impossible, but now the future now seems full of possibility. I make a mental note to callCarolineActoninthemorningtodressmygirl.
Afteraproductivehourinmystudy,catchinguponmyreadingforwork,IdecidethatAnahashad enough sleep. It’s dusk outside, and we have to leave in forty-five minutes for dinner at myparents’.It’sbeeneasiertoconcentrateonmywork,knowingthatshe’supstairsinherbedroom.
Weird.Well,Iknowshe’ssafeupthere.FromtherefrigeratorItakeacartonofcranberryjuiceandabottleofsparklingwater.Imixthem
inaglassandheadupstairs.She’sstillfastasleep,curledupwhereIlefther.Idon’tthinkshe’smovedatall.Herlipsareparted
asshebreathessoftly.Herhairistousled,tendrilsescapingfromherbraid.Isitontheedgeofthebedbesideher,leandown,andkisshertemple.Shemumblesaprotestinhersleep.
“Anastasia,wakeup.”MyvoiceisgentleasIcoaxherawake.“No,”shegrumbles,huggingherpillow.“Wehavetoleaveinhalfanhourfordinneratmyparents’.”Hereyesflickeropenandfocusonme.“Come on, sleepyhead. Get up.” I kiss her temple again. “I’ve brought you a drink. I’ll be
downstairs.Don’tgobacktosleep,oryou’llbeintrouble,”Iwarnasshestretchesherarms.Ikissheroncemoreandwithaglanceatthechair,whereshewon’tfindherpanties,Isaunterbackdownstairs,unabletosuppressmygrin.
Playtime,Grey.WhileI’mwaitingforMissSteeleIpressabuttonontheiPodremoteandthemusicspringstolife
onrandomshuffle.Restless,Iwanderovertothebalconydoorsandstareoutattheearlyeveningsky,listeningtoTalkingHeads’“AndSheWas.”
Taylorenters.“Mr.Grey.ShallIbringthecararound?”“Giveusfiveminutes.”“Yes,sir,”hesays,anddisappearstowardtheserviceelevator.Anaappearsafewminuteslaterattheentrancetothelivingroom.Shelooksluminous,stunning
even…andamused.What’sshegoingtosayabouthermissingpanties?“Hi,”shesayswithacrypticsmile.“Hi.Howareyoufeeling?”Hersmilebroadens.“Good,thanks.You?”Shefeignsnonchalance.“I feelmighty fine,MissSteele.”The suspense is tantalizingand Ihopemyanticipation isnot
writtenallovermyface.“Frank?IneverfiguredyouforaSinatrafan,”shesays,cockingherheadandgivingmeacurious
look,astherichtonesof“Witchcraft”filltheroom.“Eclectic taste,MissSteele.” I step towardheruntil I’mstanding right in frontofher.Will she
crack?I’msearchingforananswerinherglitteringblueeyes.Askmeforyourpanties,baby.I caress her cheek withmy fingertips. She leans her face intomy touch—and I’m completely
seduced—byhersweetgesture,byherteasingexpression,andbythemusic.Iwantherinmyarms.“Dancewithme,”Iwhisper,asIremovetheremotefrommypocketandturnupthevolumeuntil
Frank’scrooningsurroundsus.Shegivesmeherhand.Icircleherwaistandpullherbeautifulbodyagainstmine,andwestartaslow,simple fox-trot.Shegraspsmyshoulder,butI’mpreparedforhertouch, and togetherwewhirl across the floor,her radiant face lightingup the room…andme.Shefallsintostepwithmylead,andwhenthesongcomestoanend,she’sgiddyandbreathless.
AndsoamI.“There’snonicerwitch than you.” I plant a chaste kiss onher lips. “Well, that’s brought some
colortoyourcheeks.Thankyouforthedance.Shallwegoandmeetmyparents?”“You’rewelcome,andyes,Ican’twaittomeetthem,”shereplies,lookingflushedandlovely.“Doyouhaveeverythingyouneed?”“Ohyes,”shesayswitheasyconfidence.“Areyousure?”Shenods,herlipscarvedinasmirk.God,shehasguts.Igrin.“Okay.”Ican’thidemydelight.“Ifthat’sthewayyouwanttoplayit,MissSteele.”Igrab
myjacketandweheadtotheelevator.Sheneverfailstosurprise,impress,anddisarmme.NowIwillhavetositthroughdinnerwithmy
parents, knowingmygirl isnotwearinganyunderwear. In fact, I’m travelingdown in thiselevatorrightnow,knowingshe’snakedbeneathherskirt.
She’sturnedthetablesonyou,Grey.
SHE’SQUIETASTAYLORdrivesusnorthonI-5.IcatchaglimpseofUnionLake;themoondisappears
behindacloud,andthewaterdarkens,likemymood.WhyamItakinghertoseemyparents?Iftheymeether, they’ll have certain expectations.And sowillAna.And I’mnot sure if the relationship IwantwithAnawillliveuptothoseexpectations.Andtomakemattersworse,IputallthisinmotionwhenIinsistedshemeetGrace.I’mtheonlyonetoblame.Me,andthefactthatElliotisfuckingherroommate.
WhoamIkidding?IfIdidn’twanthertomeetmyfolks,shewouldn’tbehere.IjustwishIwasn’tsoanxiousaboutit.
Yeah.That’stheproblem.“Wheredidyoulearntodance?”sheasks,interruptingmychainofthoughts.Oh,Ana.She’snotgoingtowantmetogothere.
“Christian,holdme.There.Properly.Right.Onestep.Two.Good.Keepintimetothemusic.Sinatraisperfectforthefox-trot.”Elenaisinherelement.
“Yes,Ma’am.”
“Doyoureallywanttoknow?”Ianswer.“Yes,”shereplies,buthertonesaysotherwise.Youasked.Isighinthedarknessbesideher.“Mrs.Robinsonwasfondofdancing.”“Shemusthavebeenagoodteacher.”Herwhisperistingedwithregretandreluctantadmiration.“Shewas.”
“That’sright.Again.One.Two.Three.Four.Baby,you’vegotthis.”ElenaandIglideacrossherbasement.“Again.”Shelaughs,herheadthrownback,andshelookslikeawomanhalfherage.
Ana nods and studies the landscape, no doubt concocting some theory aboutElena.Ormaybeshe’s thinkingaboutmeetingmyparents. Iwish Iknew.Perhaps she’snervous.Likeme. I’venevertakenagirlhome.
WhenAnastartsfidgetingIsensesomethingisworryingher.Issheconcernedaboutwhatwedidtoday?
“Don’t,”Isay,myvoicesofterthanIintend.Sheturnstolookatme,herexpressionunreadableinthedark.“Don’twhat?”“Overthink things,Anastasia.”Whateveryou’re thinkingabout. I reachover, takeherhand,and
kissherknuckles.“Ihadawonderfulafternoon.Thankyou.”Igetabriefflashofwhiteteethandatimidsmile.“Whydidyouuseacabletie?”sheasks.Questionsabout thisafternoon; this isgood. “It’squick, it’s easy, and it’s somethingdifferent for
youtofeelandexperience.Iknowthey’requitebrutal,andIdolikethatinarestrainingdevice.”MyvoiceisdryasItrytoinjectalittlehumorbackintoourconversation.“Veryeffectiveatkeepingyou
inyourplace.”HereyesdarttowardTaylorinthefrontseat.Sweetheart,don’tworryaboutTaylor.Heknowsexactlywhat’sgoingon,andhe’sdonethisforfour
years.“All part ofmyworld, Anastasia.” I give her hand a reassuring squeeze before I release it. Ana
returnstostaringoutofthewindow;we’resurroundedbywateraswecrossLakeWashingtononthe520bridge,myfavoritepartofthisjourney.Shedrawsupherfeetand,curledontheseat,coilsherarmsaroundherlegs.
Somethingisup.Whensheglancesatme,Iask,“Pennyforyourthoughts?”Shesighs.Shit.“Thatbad,huh?”“IwishIknewwhatyouwerethinking,”shesays.Ismirk,relievedtohearthis,andgladshedoesn’tknowwhat’sreallyonmymind.“Ditto,baby,”Ireply.
TAYLOR PULLS UP OUTSIDE my parents’ front door. “Are you ready for this?” I ask. Ana nods and Isqueeze her hand. “First forme, too,” I whisper.WhenTaylor’s out the door I give her a wicked,salaciousgrin.“Betyouwishyouwerewearingyourunderwearrightnow.”
Herbreathhitchesandshescowls,butIclimboutofthecartogreetmymotherandfather,whoarewaitingon thedoorstep.Ana lookscoolandcalmas shewalksaround thecar tous.“Anastasia,you’vemetmymother,Grace.Thisismydad,Carrick.”
“Mr.Grey,whatapleasuretomeetyou.”Shesmilesandshakeshisoutstretchedhand.“Thepleasureisallmine,Anastasia.”“Please,callmeAna.”“Ana,howlovelytoseeyouagain.”Gracehugsher.“Comein,mydear.”TakingAna’sarm,she
leadsherinsideandIfollowinherpantylesswake.“Isshehere?”Miascreamsfromsomewhereinsidethehouse.Anagivesmeastartledlook.“ThatwouldbeMia,mylittlesister.”We both turn in the direction of the high heels clattering through the hall. And there she is.
“Anastasia!I’veheardsomuchaboutyou!”Miawrapsherinabighug.Thoughshe’stallerthanAna,Irememberthey’realmostthesameage.
Mia takes her hand and drags her into the vestibule as my parents and I follow. “He’s neverbroughtagirlhomebefore,”MiatellsAnainashrillvoice.
“Mia,calmdown,”Gracechides.Yes,forfuck’ssake,Mia.Stopmakingsuchascene.Anacatchesmerollingmyeyesandshootsmeawitheringlook.Gracegreetsmewithakissonbothcheeks.“Hello,darling.”She’sglowing,happytohaveallher
childrenhome.Carrickoffershishand.“Hello,son.Longtimenosee.”Weshakehandsandfollow
thewomen into the living room. “Dad, you sawme yesterday,” Imutter. “Dad jokes”—my fatherexcelsatthem.
KavanaghandElliotarecuddlingononeofthesofas.ButKavanaghgetsuptohugAnawhenweenter.
“Christian.”Shegivesmeapolitenod.“Kate.”AndnowElliothashisbigpawsalloverAna.Fuck,whoknewmyfamilywassotouchy-feelyallofasudden?Putherdown.IglareatElliotand
hegrins—anI’m-just-showing-you-how-it’s-doneexpressionplasteredalloverhis face. I slipmyarmaroundAna’swaistandpullhertomyside.Alleyesareonus.
Hell.Thisfeelslikeafreakshow.“Drinks?”Dadoffers.“Prosecco?”“Please,”AnaandIreplytogether.Miabouncesonthespotandclapsherhands.“You’reevensayingthesamethings.I’llgetthem.”
Shedashesoutoftheroom.Whatthehelliswrongwithmyfamily?Anafrowns.She’sprobablyfindingthemweird,too.“Dinner’salmostready,”GracesaysasshefollowsMiaoutoftheroom.“Sit,”ItellAna,andIleadherovertooneofthesofas.Shedoesasshe’stoldandIsitatherside,
carefulnottotouchher.Ineedtosetanexampleformyoverlydemonstrativefamily.Maybethey’vealwaysbeenthisway?Myfatherdivertsme.“Wewerejusttalkingaboutvacations,Ana.ElliothasdecidedtofollowKate
andherfamilytoBarbadosforaweek.”Dude!IstareatElliot.WhatthehellhappenedtoMr.Love’EmandLeave’Em?Kavanaghmustbe
goodinthesack.Shecertainlylookssmugenough.“Areyoutakingabreaknowthatyou’vefinishedyourdegree?”CarrickasksAna.“I’mthinkingaboutgoingtoGeorgiaforafewdays,”sheanswers.“Georgia?”Iexclaim,unabletohidemysurprise.“Mymotherlivesthere,”shesays,hervoicewavering,“andIhaven’tseenherforawhile.”“Whenwereyouthinkingofgoing?”Isnap.“Tomorrow,lateevening.”Tomorrow!Whatthefuck?AndI’monlylearningofthisnow?MiareturnswithpinkproseccoforAnaandme.“Yourgoodhealth!”Dadraiseshisglass.“Forhowlong?”Ipersist,tryingtokeepmyvoicelevel.“Idon’tknowyet.Itwilldependhowmyinterviewsgotomorrow.”Interviews?Tomorrow?“Anadeservesabreak,”Kavanaghinterrupts,staringatmewithill-concealedantagonism.Iwant
totellhertomindherownfuckingbusiness,butforAna’ssakeIholdmytongue.“Youhaveinterviews?”DadasksAna.“Yes,forinternshipsattwopublishers,tomorrow.”Whenwasshegoingtotellmethis?I’mherewithherfortwominutesandI’mfindingoutdetails
ofherlifethatIshouldknow!“Iwishyouthebestofluck,”Carricksaystoherwithakindsmile.“Dinnerisready,”Gracecallsfromacrossthehall.IlettheothersexittheroombutgrabAna’selbowbeforeshecanfollow.“Whenwereyougoingtotellmeyouwereleaving?”Mytemperisrapidlyunraveling.“I’mnotleaving.I’mgoingtoseemymother.AndIwasonlythinkingaboutit.”Anadismissesme,
asifI’machild.“Whataboutourarrangement?”“Wedon’thaveanarrangementyet.”But….I leadus through the living roomdoor and into thehallway. “This conversation isnot over,” I
warnasweenterthediningroom.Momhasgoneallout—bestchina,best crystal—forAna’s andKavanagh’sbenefit. Iholdouta
chairforAna;shesitsdownandItakeaseatbesideher.Miabeamsatbothofusfromacrossthetable.“WheredidyoumeetAna?”Miaasks.
“SheinterviewedmefortheWSUstudentnewspaper.”“WhichKateedits,”Anainterjects.“Iwanttobeajournalist,”KatetellsMia.My father offers Ana some wine while Mia and Kate discuss journalism. Kavanagh has an
internshipattheSeattleTimes,nodoubtsetupforherbyherfather.FromthecornerofmyeyeInoticethatAna’sstudyingme.“What?”Iask.“Pleasedon’tbemadatme,”shesays,solowthatonlyIcanhear.“I’mnotmadatyou,”Ilie.Hereyesnarrow,andit’sobviousshedoesn’tbelieveme.“Yes,Iammadatyou,”Iconfess.AndnowIfeellikeI’moverreacting.Iclosemyeyes.Getagrip,Grey.“Palm-twitchinglymad?”shewhispers.“Whatareyoutwowhisperingabout?”Kavanaghinterrupts.GoodGod!Isshealwayslikethis?Sointrusive?HowthehelldoesElliotputupwithher?Iglower
ather,andshehasthesensetobackoff.“JustaboutmytriptoGeorgia,”Anasays,withsweetnessandcharm.Katesmirks.“HowwasJoséwhenyouwenttothebarwithhimonFriday?”sheasks,withabrash
lookinmydirection.
What.The.Fuck.Is.This?Anatensesbesideme.“Hewasfine,”shesaysquietly.“Palm-twitchinglymad,”Iwhispertoher.“Especiallynow.”SoshewenttoabarwiththeguywhowastryingtoramhistonguedownherthroatthelasttimeI
sawhim.Andshe’dalreadyagreedtobemine.Sneakingofftoabarwithanotherman?Andwithoutmypermission…
Shedeservestobepunished.Aroundme,dinnerisbeingserved.I’veagreednottogotoohardonher…maybeIshoulduseaflogger.OrmaybeIshouldadminister
astraightforwardspanking,harderthanthelastone.Here,tonight.Yes.Thathaspossibilities.Ana’s looking down at her fingers. Kate, Elliot, and Mia are in a conversation about French
cooking,andDadreturnstothetable.Where’shebeen?“Callforyou,darling.It’sthehospital,”hesaystoGrace.“Pleasestart,everyone,”Momsays,passingaplateoffoodtoAna.Smellsgood.Ana licks her lips and the action resonates in my groin. She must be starving. Good. That’s
something.Momhassurpassedherself:chorizo,scallops,peppers.Nice.AndIrealizethatI,too,amhungry.
Thatcan’tbehelpingmymood.ButIbrightenwatchingAnaeat.Gracereturns,lookingworried.“Everythingokay?”Dadasks,andwealllookupather.“Anothermeaslescase.”Gracesighsheavily.“Ohno,”Dadsays.“Yes,achild.Thefourthcasethismonth.Ifonlypeoplewouldgettheirkidsvaccinated.”Grace
shakesherhead.“I’msogladourchildrenneverwentthroughthat.Theynevercaughtanythingworsethan chickenpox, thank goodness. PoorElliot.”We all look atElliot,who stops eating,mid-chew,mouthstuffedfull,bovine.He’suncomfortablebeingthecenterofattention.
KavanaghgivesGraceaquestioninglook.“Christian andMia were lucky,” Grace explains. “They got it so mildly, only a spot to share
betweenthem.”Oh,giveitarest,Mom.“So,didyoucatchtheMarinersgame,Dad?”Elliot’sclearlykeentomovetheconversationon,as
amI.“Ican’tbelievetheybeattheYankees,”Carricksays.“Didyouwatchthegame,hotshot?”Elliotasksme.“No.ButIreadthesportscolumn.”“TheM’saregoingplaces.Ninegameswonoutof the lasteleven,givesmehope.”Dadsounds
excited.
“They’recertainlyhavingabetterseasonthan2010,”Iadd.“Gutierrezincenterfieldwasawesome.Thatcatch!Wow.”Elliotthrowsuphisarms.Kavanagh
fawnsoverhimlikealovesickfool.“Howareyousettlingintoyournewapartment,dear?”GraceasksAna.“We’veonlybeenthereonenight,andIstillhavetounpack,butIlovethatit’ssocentral—anda
shortwalktoPikePlace,andnearthewater.”“Oh,soyou’reclosetoChristian,then,”Graceremarks.Mom’shelperstartstoclearthetable.Istillcan’trememberhername.She’sSwiss,orAustrianor
something,andshedoesn’tstopsimperingandbattingeyelashesatme.“HaveyoubeentoParis,Ana?”Miaasks.“No,butI’dlovetogo.”“Wehoneymooned inParis,”Mom says. She andDad exchange a look across the table,which
franklyI’dprefernottosee.Theyobviouslyhadagoodtime.“It’s a beautiful city, in spite of the Parisians. Christian, you should take Ana to Paris!” Mia
exclaims.“IthinkAnastasiawouldpreferLondon,”Irespondtomysister’sridiculoussuggestion.Placingmy
handonAna’sknee,Iexploreherthighataleisurelypace,herdressridingupasmyfingersfollow.Iwanttotouchher;strokeherwhereherpantiesshouldbe.AsmycockrousesinanticipationIsuppressagroanandshuffleinmyseat.
Shejerksawayfrommeasiftocrossherlegs,andIclosemyhandaroundherthigh.Don’tyoudare!Ana takes a sip of wine, not taking her eyes off mymother’s housekeeper, who is serving our
entrées.“SowhatwaswrongwiththeParisians?Didn’ttheytaketoyourwinsomeways?”ElliotteasesMia.“Ugh, no, they didn’t. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a
domineeringtyrant.”Anachokesonherwine.“Anastasia,areyouokay?”Iask,andreleaseherthigh.Shenods,hercheeksred,andIpatherbackandgentlycaressherneck.Domineeringtyrant?Am
I?Thethoughtamusesme.Miashootsmealookofapprovalatmypublicdisplayofaffection.Momhascookedhersignaturedish,BeefWellington,arecipeshepickedupinLondon.Ihaveto
say it ranksclose toyesterday’sbuttermilk friedchicken. In spiteofherchokingepisode,Ana tucksintohermealand it’s sogood to seehereat.She’sprobablyhungryafterourenergeticafternoon. ItakeasipofmywineasIcontemplateotherwaystomakeherhungry.
MiaandKavanagharediscussingtherelativemeritsofSt.Bart’svs.Barbados,wheretheKavanaghfamilywillbestaying.
“RememberElliotandthejellyfish?”Mia’seyesshinewithmirthasshelooksfromElliottome.Ichuckle.“Screaminglikeagirl?Yeah.”“Hey,thatcouldhavebeenaPortugueseman-of-war!Ihatejellyfish.Theyruineverything.”Elliot
isemphatic.MiaandKateburstintogiggles,noddinginagreement.Anaiseatingheartilyandlisteningtothebanter.Everyoneelsehascalmeddown,andmyfamily
is being less weird. Why am I so tense? This happens every day all across the country, familiesgatheringtoenjoygoodfoodandeachother’scompany.AmItensebecauseIhaveAnahere?AmIworriedtheywon’tlikeher,orthatshewon’tlikethem?Orisitbecauseshe’sfuckingofftoGeorgiatomorrow,andIknewnothingaboutthat?
It’sconfusing.Miatakescenterstageasusual.HertalesofFrenchlifeandFrenchcookingareentertaining.“Oh,
Mom, les pâtisseries sont tout simplement fabuleuses. La tarte aux pommes de M. Floubert estincroyable,”shesays.
“Mia,chérie,tuparlesfrançais,”Iinterrupther.“Nousparlonsanglais ici.Ehbien,à l’exceptionbiensûrd’Elliot.Ilparleidiote,couramment.”
Miathrowsherheadbackwithabellowinglaugh,andit’simpossiblenottojoinher.Butbytheendofdinnerthetensionisreallywearingmedown.Iwanttobealonewithmygirl.
I’veonlysomuchtoleranceforinanechatter,evenifit’swithmyfamily,andI’vereachedmylimit.IpeerdownatAna,thenreachoverandtugherchin.“Don’tbiteyourlip.Iwanttodothat.”
Ialsohavetoestablishafewgroundrules.WeneedtodiscussherimpromptutriptoGeorgiaandgoingoutfordrinkswithmenwhoareinfatuatedwithher.IputmyhandonAna’skneeagain;Ineedtotouchher.Besides,sheshouldacceptmytouch,wheneverIwanttotouchher.Igaugeherreactionasmyfingerstravelupherthightowardherpanty-freezone,teasingherskin.Herbreathcatchesandshesqueezesherthighstogether,blockingmyfingers,stoppingme.
That’sit.Ihavetoexcuseusfromthedinnertable.“ShallIgiveyouatourofthegrounds?”IaskAna,andI
don’tgiveherachancetoanswer.Hereyesareluminousandseriousassheplacesherhandinmine.“Excuseme,”shesaystoCarrick,andIleadheroutofthediningroom.In the kitchenMia andMom are clearing up. “I’m going to show Anastasia the backyard,” I
announcetomymother,pretendingtobecheerful.Outside,mymoodplungessouthasmyangersurfaces.Panties.Thephotographer.Georgia.Wecrosstheterraceandclimbthestepstothelawn.Anapausesforamomenttoadmiretheview.Yeah,yeah.Seattle.Lights.Moon.Water.Icontinueacrossthevastlawntowardmyparents’boathouse.“Stop,please,”Anapleads.Ido,andglareather.“Myheels.Ineedtotakemyshoesoff.”“Don’tbother,”Igrowl,andliftherquicklyovermyshoulder.Shesquealsinsurprise.Hell.Ismackherass,hard.“Keepyourvoicedown!”Isnap,andstrideacrossthelawn.“Wherearewegoing?”shewailsasshebouncesonmyshoulder.“Boathouse.”
“Why?”“Ineedtobealonewithyou.”“Whatfor?”“BecauseI’mgoingtospankandthenfuckyou.”“Why?”shewhines.“Youknowwhy,”Isnap.“Ithoughtyouwereanin-the-momentguy?”“Anastasia,I’minthemoment,trustme.”Throwingopentheboathousedoor,Istepinsideandswitchonthelight.Asthefluorescentsping
tolifeIheadupstairstothesnug.ThereIflipanotherswitch,andhalogensilluminatetheroom.IslideAnadownmybody,gloryinginthefeelofher,andIsetheronherfeet.Herhairisdarkand
untamed,hereyesshiningintheglowofthelights,andIknowshe’snotwearingherpanties.Iwanther.Now.
“Pleasedon’thitme,”shewhispers.Idon’tunderstand.Istaredownatherblankly.“Idon’twantyoutospankme,nothere,notnow.Pleasedon’t.”But…Igapeather,paralyzed.That’swhywe’rehere.Sheliftsherhand,andforamomentIdon’t
knowwhatshe’sgoingtodo.Thedarknessstirsandtwistsaroundmythroat,threateningtochokemeifshetouchesme.Butsheplacesherfingersonmycheekandgentlyskimsthemdowntomychin.ThedarknessmeltsintooblivionandIclosemyeyes, feelinghergentlefingertipsonme.Withherotherhandsherufflesmyhair,runningherfingersthroughit.
“Ah,”Imoan,andIdon’tknowifit’sfromfearorlonging.I’mbreathless,standingonaprecipice.WhenIopenmyeyes,shestepsforwardsoherbodyisflushagainstmine.Shefistsbothhandsinmyhair and tugs gently, raising her lips tomine. And I’mwatching her do this, like a bystander, notpresentinmybody.I’maspectator.OurlipstouchandIclosemyeyesassheforceshertongueintomymouth.Andit’sthesoundofmygroanthatbreaksthespellshe’scast.
Ana.Iwrapmyarmsaroundher,kissingherback,releasingtwohoursofanxietyandtensionintoour
kiss,mytonguepossessingher,reconnectingwithher.MyhandsgripherhairandIsavorhertaste,hertongue,herframeagainstmineasmybodyigniteslikegasoline.
Fuck.When I pull away we’re both dragging air into our lungs, her hands clutching my arms. I’m
confused. Iwanted to spankher.But she’s saidno.Like shedidat thedinner table. “Whatareyoudoingtome?”Iask.
“Kissingyou.”“Yousaidno.”“What?”She’sbewildered,ormaybeshe’sforgottenwhathappened.“Atthedinnertable,withyourlegs.”“Butwewereatyourparents’diningtable.”
“Noone’seversaidnotomebefore.Andit’sso—hot.”Anddifferent.Islidemyhandaroundherbacksideandjoltheragainstme,tryingtoregaincontrol.
“You’remadandturnedonbecauseIsaidno?”Hervoiceisthroaty.“I’mmadbecauseyounevermentionedGeorgiatome.I’mmadbecauseyouwentdrinkingwith
thatguywhotriedtoseduceyouwhenyouweredrunk,andwholeftyouwhenyouwereillwithanalmost complete stranger.What kind of friend does that? And I’mmad and aroused because youclosedyourlegsonme.”
Andyou’renotwearingpanties.Myfingersinchherdressupherlegs.“Iwantyou,andIwantyounow.Andifyou’renotgoingto
letmespankyou—whichyoudeserve—I’mgoingtofuckyouonthecouch,thisminute,quickly—formypleasure,notyours.”
Holdingheragainstme,Iseethatshe’spantingasIslipmyhandthroughherpubichairandslidemymiddlefingerinsideher.Ihearalow,sexyhumofappreciationinherthroat.She’ssoready.
“Thisismine.Allmine.Doyouunderstand?”Islipmyfingerinandoutofher,holdingher,asherlipspartwithshockanddesire.
“Yes,yours,”shewhispers.Yes.Mine.AndIwon’tletyouforgetit,Ana.Ipushherdownontothecouch,unzipmyfly,andliedownontopofher,pinningherbeneath
me.“Handsonyourhead,”Igrowlthroughclenchedteeth.Ikneelupandspreadmyknees,forcingherlegswider.FromtheinsidepocketofmyjacketItakeoutacondom,thendiscardmyjacketonthefloor.WithmyeyesonhersIopenthepacketandrollitdownmyeagerdick.Anaplacesherhandsonherhead,watchingme,hereyesglintingwithneed.AsIcrawloverhershe’ssquirmingbeneathme,herhipsrisingtoteaseandgreetme.
“Wedon’thavelong.Thiswillbequick,andit’sforme,notyou.Doyouunderstand?Don’tcome,or Iwill spank you,” I order, focusing onher dazedwide eyes, andwith a swift, hardmove I burymyself insideher.Shecallsout inawelcomeand familiarcryofpleasure. Iholdherdown so shecan’tmove,andIstarttofuckher,consumingher.Butgreedilyshetiltsherpelvis,meetingmethrustforthrust,spurringmeon.
Oh,Ana.Yes,baby.Shegivesitbacktome,matchingmyferventpace,overandover.Oh,thefeelofher.AndI’mlost.Inher.Inthis.Inherscent.AndIdon’tknowifit’sbecauseI’mmadortenseor…Yessss. Icomequickly, losingall reasonas Iexplode insideher. I still.Fillingher.Owningher.
Remindingherthatshe’smine.Fuck.Thatwas…Ipulloutofherandkneelup.“Don’ttouchyourself.”Myvoiceishoarseandbreathless.“Iwantyoufrustrated.That’swhatyou
dotomebynottalkingtome,bydenyingmewhat’smine.”Shenods,sprawledoutbeneathme,herdressbuncheduparoundherwaistsoIcanseeshe’swide
andwetandwanting,andlookingeverybitthegoddessthatsheis.Istandup,removethewretchedcondomandknotit,thendress,pickingupmyjacketfromthefloor.
Itakeadeepbreath.I’mcalmernow.Muchcalmer.Fuck,thatwasgood.“We’dbettergetbacktothehouse.”Shesitsup,staringatmewithdark,inscrutableeyes.Lord,she’slovely.“Here.Youmayputtheseon.”FrommyjacketpocketIfishoutherlacypantiesandpassthemto
her.Ithinkshe’stryingnottolaugh.Yeah,yeah.Game,set,andmatchtoyou,MissSteele.“Christian!”Miayellsfromthefloorbelow.Shit.“Justintime.Christ,shecanbereallyirritating.”Butthat’smylittlesister.Alarmed,Iglanceat
Anaassheslipsonherunderwear.Shescowlsatmeasshestandstostraightenherdressandfixesherhairwithherfingers.
“Uphere,Mia,”Icall.“Well,MissSteele,Ifeelbetterforthat—butIstillwanttospankyou.”“Idon’tbelieveIdeserveit,Mr.Grey,especiallyaftertoleratingyourunprovokedattack.”Sheis
crispandformal.“Unprovoked?Youkissedme.”“Itwasattackasthebestformofdefense.”“Defenseagainstwhat?”“Youandyourtwitchypalm.”She’stryingtosuppressasmile.Mia’shighheelsrattleupthestairs.“Butitwastolerable?”Iask.Anasmirks.“Barely.”“Oh,thereyouare!”Miaexclaims,beamingatthetwoofus.Twominutesearlierandthiscould
havebeenreallyawkward.“IwasshowingAnastasiaaround.”IholdoutmyhandtoAnaandshetakesit.Iwanttokissher
knuckles,butIsettleforasoftsqueeze.“KateandElliotareabout to leave.Canyoubelieve those two?Theycan’tkeep theirhandsoff
eachother.”Miawrinkleshernoseindistaste.“Whathaveyoubeendoinginhere?”“Showing Anastasiamy rowing trophies.”Withmy free hand I wave toward the faux-precious-
metalstatuettesfrommyscullingdaysatHarvardarrangedonshelvesattheendoftheroom.“Let’sgosaygood-byetoKateandElliot.”
MiaturnstogoandIletAnaprecedeme,butbeforewegettothestairsIsmackherbehind.Shesmothersheryelp.“Iwilldoitagain,Anastasia,andsoon,”Iwhisperinherear,andfoldingherintomyarms,Ikiss
herhair.We walk hand in hand across the lawn back to the house whileMia gabbles beside us. It’s a
beautifulevening;it’sbeenabeautifulday.I’mgladAna’smetmyfamily.Whyhaven’tIdonethisbefore?BecauseI’veneverwantedto.IsqueezeAna’shand,andshegivesmeashylookandanoh-so-sweetsmile.InmyotherhandI
holdhershoes,andatthestonestepsIbenddowntofasteneachofhersandalsinturn.“There,”IannouncewhenI’mdone.“Why,thankyou,Mr.Grey,”shesays.“Thepleasureis,andwas,allmine.”“I’mwellawareofthat,Sir,”sheteases.“Oh,youtwoaresooosweet!”Miacoosasweheadintothekitchen.Anagivesmeasidewayslook.Back in thehallway,KavanaghandElliotareabout to leave.AnahugsKate,but thenpullsher
asidetohaveaheatedprivateconversation.Whatthehellisthatabout?ElliottakesKavanagh’sarmandmyparentswavethemoffastheyclimbintoElliot’spickup.
“We should go, too—you have interviews tomorrow.” We have to drive her back to her newapartmentandit’snearly11:00.
“Weneverthoughthe’dfindanyone!”MiagushesasshehugsAna,hard.Oh,forfuck’ssake…“Takecareofyourself,Anadear,”Gracesays,smilingwarmlyatmygirl.IpullAnatomyside.“Let’snotfrightenherawayorspoilherwithtoomuchaffection.”“Christian,stopteasing,”Gracechastisesmeinherusualmanner.“Mom.”Igiveheraquickpeck.ThankyouforinvitingAna.It’sbeenarevelation.Ana says good-bye to my dad, and we head to the Audi, where Taylor waits, holding the rear
passengerdooropenforher.“Well, it seemsmy family likesyou, too,” IobservewhenI’ve joinedAna in theback.Hereyes
reflectthelightfrommyparents’porch,butIcan’ttellwhatshe’sthinking.ShadowsshroudherfaceasTaylordrivessmoothlyoutontotheroad.
Icatchherstaringatmeundertheflickerofastreetlamp.She’sanxious.Something’swrong.“What?”Iask.Sheisquietatfirst,andwhenshespeaksthere’sanemptinessinhervoice.“Ithinkthatyoufelt
trapped intobringingme tomeet your parents. IfElliot hadn’t askedKate, you’dneverhave askedme.”
Damn.Shedoesn’tunderstand.Itwasafirstforme.Iwasnervous.SurelysheknowsbynowthatifIdidn’twantherhere,shewouldn’tbehere.Aswepassfromlighttoshadowunderthestreetlamps,shelooksdistantandupset.
Grey,thiswillnotdo.“Anastasia, I’mdelighted that you’vemetmy parents.Why are you so filledwith self-doubt? It
never ceases to amazeme. You’re such a strong, self-contained young woman, but you have suchnegativethoughtsaboutyourself.IfIhadn’twantedyoutomeetthem,youwouldn’tbehere.Isthathowyouwerefeelingthewholetimeyouwerethere?”Ishakemyhead,reachforherhand,andgiveit
anotherreassuringsqueeze.SheglancesnervouslyatTaylor.“Don’tworryaboutTaylor.Talktome.”“Yes.Ithoughtthat,”shesaysquietly.“Andanotherthing,IonlymentionedGeorgiabecauseKate
wastalkingaboutBarbados.Ihaven’tmadeupmymind.”“Doyouwanttogoandseeyourmother?”“Yes.”Myanxietysurfaces.Doesshewantout?IfshegoestoGeorgia,hermothermightpersuadeherto
findsomeonemore…suitable,someonewho,likehermother,believesinromance.Ihaveanidea.She’smetmyfolks;I’vemetRay;perhapsIshouldmeethermother,theincurable
romantic.Charmher.“CanIcomewithyou?”Iask,knowingthatshe’llsayno.“Um,Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea,”sheanswers,surprisedbymyquestion.“Whynot?”“Iwashopingforabreakfromallthis…intensity.Totrytothinkthingsthrough.”Shit.Shedoeswanttoleaveme.“I’mtoointense?”Shelaughs.“That’sputtingitmildly!”Damn,Ilovemakingherlaugh,evenifitisatmyexpense;andI’mrelievedshe’skepthersenseof
humor.Perhapsshedoesn’twanttoleavemeafterall.“Areyoulaughingatme,MissSteele?”Itease.“Iwouldn’tdare,Mr.Grey.”“Ithinkyoudare,andIthinkyoudolaughatme,frequently.”“Youarequitefunny.”“Funny?”“Ohyes.”She’smakingfunofme.It’snovel.“Funnypeculiarorfunnyha-ha?”“Oh,alotofoneandsomeoftheother.”“Whichwaymore?”“I’llleaveyoutofigurethatout.”Isigh.“I’mnotsureifIcanfigureanythingoutaroundyou.”Mytoneisdry.“Whatdoyouneed
tothinkaboutinGeorgia?”“Us.”Fuck.“Yousaidyou’dtry,”Igentlyremindher.“Iknow.”“Areyouhavingsecondthoughts?”“Possibly.”It’sworsethanIfeared.“Why?”Shestaresatmeinsilence.“Why,Anastasia?”Ipersist.Sheshrugs,hermouthturneddown,andI
hopeshe’llfindherhandinminereassuring.“Talktome.Idon’twanttoloseyou.Thislastweek—”Hasbeenthebestinmylife.“Istillwantmore,”shebreathes.Ohno,notthisagain.Whatdoessheneedmetosay?“Iknow.I’lltry.”Iclaspherchin.“Foryou,Anastasia,Iwilltry.”I’vejusttakenyoutomeetmyparents,forheaven’ssake.Suddenlysheunbucklesherseatbelt,andbeforeIknowitshe’sscrambledintomylap.Whatthehell?Isitimmobileasherarmssliparoundmyhead,andherlipsfindmine,andcoaxakissfromme
beforethedarknesshasachancetostir.MyhandsslideupherbackuntilI’mcradlingherheadandreturning her passion, exploring her sweet, sweet mouth, trying to find answers…Her unexpectedaffectionisutterlydisarming.Andnew.Andconfusing.Ithoughtshewantedtoleave,andnowshe’sinmylapandturningmeon,again.
I’venever…never…Don’tgo,Ana.“Staywithmetonight.Ifyougoaway,Iwon’tseeyouallweek.Please,”Iwhisper.“Yes,”shemurmurs.“AndI’lltry,too.I’llsignyourcontract.”Oh,baby.“SignafterGeorgia.Thinkaboutit.Thinkaboutithard.”Iwanthertodothiswillingly—Idon’t
wanttoforcethisonher.Well,partofmedoesn’t.Therationalpart.“Iwill,”shesays,andnestlesagainstme.Thiswomanhasmetiedupinknots.Ironic,Grey.AndIwanttolaughbecauseI’mrelievedandhappy,butIholdher,breathinginherredolentand
comfortingscent.“Youreallyshouldwearyourseatbelt,”Iscold,butIdon’twanthertomove.Shestayswrappedin
myembrace,herbodyslowlyrelaxingagainstmine.Thedarknessinsidemeisquiet,contained,andI’mconfusedbymywarringemotions.WhatdoIwantoutofher?WhatdoIneedoutofher?
Thisisnothowweshouldbeprogressing,butIlikeherinmyarms;Ilikecradlingherlikethis.Ikissherhair,andleanbackandenjoytherideintoSeattle.
Taylor stops outside the entrance to Escala. “We’re home,” I whisper to Ana. I’m reluctant toreleaseher,butIliftherontoherseat.Tayloropensherdoorandshejoinsmeattheentrancetothebuilding.
Ashiverrunsthroughher.“Whydon’tyouhaveajacket?”IaskasIslipmineoffanddrapeitoverhershoulders.“It’sinmynewcar,”shesays,yawning.“Tired,MissSteele?”“Yes,Mr.Grey.I’vebeenprevaileduponinwaysIneverthoughtpossibletoday.”“Well,ifyou’rereallyunlucky,Imayprevailuponyousomemore.”IfIgetlucky.Sheleansagainstthewalloftheelevatoraswetraveluptothepenthouse.Undermyjacketshe
looksslimandsmallandsexy.Ifshewasn’twearingherunderwearIcouldtakeherinhere…Ireachupandfreeherlipfromherteeth.“OnedayIwillfuckyouinthiselevator,Anastasia,butrightnowyou’retired—soIthinkweshouldsticktoabed.”Ibenddownandgentlytakeherbottomlipinmyteeth.Herbreathcatchesandshereturnsthegesturewithherteethandmyupperlip.
Ifeelitinmygroin.Iwanttotakehertobedandlosemyselfinher.AfterourconversationinthecarIjustwanttobe
sureshe’smine.WhenweexittheelevatorIofferheradrink,butshedeclines.“Good.Let’sgotobed.”Shelookssurprised.“You’regoingtosettleforplainoldvanilla?”“Nothingplainoroldaboutvanilla.It’saveryintriguingflavor.”“Sincewhen?”“SincelastSaturday.Why?Wereyouhopingforsomethingmoreexotic?”“Ohno.I’vehadenoughexoticforoneday.”“Sure?Wecaterforalltasteshere—atleastthirty-oneflavors.”Igiveheralasciviouslook.“I’venoticed.”Sheraisesonefineeyebrow.“Come on,Miss Steele, you have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll be
fucked,andsooneryoucansleep.”“Mr.Grey,youareabornromantic.”“MissSteele,youhaveasmartmouth.Imayhavetosubdueitsomeway.Come.”Yeah.Icanthinkofoneway.Closingthedoorofmybedroom,IfeellighterthanIdidinthecar.She’sstillhere.“Handsinthe
air,”Iorder,andshedoesasshe’stold.Igripthehemofherdressandinonesmoothmovepullitupandoverherbodytorevealthebeautifulwomanbeneath.
“Ta-da!”I’mamagician.Anagigglesandgivesmearoundofapplause.Ibow,enjoyingthegame,beforeplacingherdressonmychair.
“Andforyournexttrick?”sheasks,eyesglittering.“Oh,mydearMissSteele.Getintomybed,andI’llshowyou.”“DoyouthinkthatforonceIshouldplayhardtoget?”sheteases,tiltingherheadtoonesideso
herhairtumblesoverhershoulder.Anewgame.Thisisinteresting.“Well,thedoor’sclosed.Notsurehowyou’regoingtoavoidme.Ithinkit’sadonedeal.”“ButI’magoodnegotiator,”shesays,hervoicesoftbutdetermined.“SoamI.”Okay,what’sgoingonhere?Isshereluctant?Tootired?What?“Don’tyouwanttofuck?”Iask,
confused.“No,”shewhispers.“Oh.”Well,that’sdisappointing.Sheswallows,thensaysinasmallvoice,“Iwantyoutomakelovetome.”Istareather,bemused.
Whatexactlydoesshemean?Makelove?Wedo.Wehave.It’sjustanothertermforfucking.Shestudiesme,herexpressiongrave.Hell.Isthisherideaofmore?Allthehearts-and-flowersshit,
isthatwhatshemeans?Butwe’rejusttalkingsemantics,surely?Thisissemantics.“Ana,I—”Whatdoesshewantfromme?“Ithoughtwedid.”
“Iwanttotouchyou.”Fuck.No.Istepbackasthedarknessclosesaroundmyribs.“Please,”shewhispers.No.No.Haven’tImadeitclear?Ican’tbeartobetouched.Ican’t.Ever.“Ohno,MissSteele,you’vehadenoughconcessionsfrommethisevening.AndI’msayingno.”“No?”shequeries.“No.”AndforamomentIwanttosendherhome,orupstairs—anywhereawayfromme.Nothere.Don’ttouchme.She’swatchingmewarilyandIthinkaboutthefactthatshe’sleavingtomorrowandIwon’tseeher
forawhile.Isigh.Idon’thavetheenergyforthis.“Look,you’retired,I’mtired.Let’sjustgotobed.”“Sotouchingisahardlimitforyou?”“Yes.Thisisoldnews.”Ican’tkeeptheexasperationoutofmyvoice.“Pleasetellmewhy.”Idon’twant togothere.This isnotaconversationIwant tohave.Ever.“Oh,Anastasia,please.
Justdropitfornow.”Herfacefalls.“It’simportanttome,”shesays,ahesitantpleainhervoice.“Fuckthis,”Imuttertomyself.AtthechestofdrawersIpulloutaT-shirtandthrowittoher.“Put
thatonandget intobed.”WhyamIeven lettingher sleepwithme?But it’s a rhetoricalquestion:deepdownIknowtheanswer.It’sbecauseIsleepbetterwithher.
She’smydreamcatcher.Shekeepsmynightmaresatbay.Sheturnsawayfrommeandremovesherbra,thenslipsontheT-shirt.WhatdidIsaytoherintheplayroomthisafternoon?Sheshouldn’thideherbodyfromme.“Ineedthebathroom,”shesays.“Nowyou’reaskingpermission?”“Er…no.”“Anastasia,youknowwherethebathroomis.Today,atthispointinourstrangearrangement,you
don’tneedmypermissiontouseit.”Iunbuttonmyshirtandslipitoff,andshedashespastmeoutofthebedroomasItrytocontainmytemper.
What’sgottenintoher?
Oneevening atmyparents’ and she’s expecting serenades and sunsets and fuckingwalks in therain.That’snotwhatI’mabout.I’vetoldherthis.Idon’tdoromance.IsighheavilyasIremovemypants.
Butshewantsmore.Shewantsallthatromanticshit.Fuck.InmyclosetIthrowmypantsintothelaundrybasketandpullonmyPJbottoms,andthenwander
backintomybedroom.Thisisn’tgoingtowork,Grey.ButIwantittowork.Youshouldlethergo.No.Icanmakethiswork.Somehow.The radio alarm reads 11:46. Time for bed. I checkmy phone for any urgent e-mails. There’s
nothing.Igivethebathroomdoorabriskknock.“Come in,” Ana garbles. She’s brushing her teeth, literally foaming at the mouth—with my
toothbrush.ShespitsintothesinkasIstandbesideher,andwestareateachotherinthemirror.Hereyesarebrightwithmischiefandhumor.Sherinsesoffthetoothbrushandwithoutawordhandsittome.Iputitinmymouthandshelookspleasedwithherself.
Andjustlikethat,allthetensionfromourpreviousexchangeevaporates.“Dofeelfreetoborrowmytoothbrush,”Isaysardonically.“Thankyou,Sir.”Shebeams,andforamomentIthinkshe’sgoingtocurtsey,butsheleavesmeto
brushmyteeth.When I reenter the bedroom she’s stretched out under the covers. She should be stretched out
underme.“YouknowthisisnothowIsawtonightpanningout.”Isoundsullen.“ImagineifIsaidtoyouthatyoucouldn’ttouchme,”shesays,asargumentativeasever.She’snotgoingtoletthisgo.Isitdownonthebed.“Anastasia,I’vetoldyou.Fiftyshades.Ihada
roughstartinlife—youdon’twantthatshitinyourhead.Whywouldyou?”Nooneshouldhavethisshitintheirhead!“BecauseIwanttoknowyoubetter.”“Youknowmewellenough.”“Howcanyousaythat?”Shesitsupandkneelsfacingme,earnestandeager.Ana.Ana.Ana.Letitgo.Forfuck’ssake.“You’rerollingyoureyes,”shesays.“LasttimeIdidthat,Iendedupoveryourknee.”“Oh,I’dliketoputyouthereagain.”Rightnow.Herfacebrightens.“Tellme,andyoucan.”“What?”“Youheardme.”“You’rebargainingwithme?”Myvoicebetraysmydisbelief.Shenods.“Negotiating.”Ifrown.“Itdoesn’tworkthatway,Anastasia.”
“Okay.Tellme,andI’llrollmyeyesatyou.”Ilaugh.Nowsheisbeingridiculous,andcuteinmyT-shirt.Herfaceshineswithlonging.“Alwayssokeenandeagerforinformation,”Imarvel.Andathoughtoccurstome:Icouldspank
her.I’vewantedtosincedinner,butIcouldmakeitfun.Igetoffthebed.“Don’tgoaway,”Iwarn,andleavetheroom.FrommystudyIpickupthekeyto
theplayroomandheadupstairs.IntheplayroomchestIretrievethetoysIwantandcontemplatelubeaswell,butonreflection,andjudgingfromrecentexperience,Idon’tthinkAnawillneedany.
She’ssittingonthebedwhenIgetback,herexpressionbrightwithcuriosity.“When’syourfirstinterviewtomorrow?”Iask.“Two.”Excellent.Noearlymorning.“Good.Getoffthebed.Standoverhere.”Ipointtoaspotinfrontofme.Anascramblesoffthe
bedwithnohesitation,eagerasever.She’swaiting.“Trustme?”Shenods,andIholdoutmyhand,revealingtwosilverkegelballs.Shefrownsandlooksfromthe
ballstome.“Thesearenew.IamgoingtoputtheseinsideyouandthenI’mgoingtospankyou,notforpunishment,butforyourpleasureandmine.”
MONDAY,MAY30,2011
Hersharpintakeofbreathismusictomydick.“Thenwe’llfuck,”Iwhisper.“Andifyou’restillawake,I’llimpartsomeinformationaboutmyformativeyears.Agreed?”
Shenods.Herbreathinghasaccelerated,herpupilsarelarger,darker,withherneedandherthirstforknowledge.
“Goodgirl.Openyourmouth.”Shehesitatesforamoment,bewildered.Butshedoesasshe’stoldbeforeIcanreprimandher.“Wider.”I insertbothof theballs intohermouth.They’rea littlebigandheavybutwillkeepher smart
mouthoccupiedforamomentortwo.“Theyneedlubrication.Suck.”She blinks and tries to suck, her stance changing subtly as she presses her thighs together and
squirms.Ohyes.“Keepstill,Anastasia,”Icaution,butI’menjoyingtheshow.Enough.“Stop,” I order, and tug them fromhermouth. At the bed I throw the comforter aside and sit
down.“Comehere.”Shesidlesuptome,wantonandsexy.Oh,Ana,mylittlefreak.“Nowturnaround,benddown,andgrabyourankles.”Herexpression tellsme it’snotwhat she
was expecting tohear. “Don’thesitate,” I chideher, and Ipop theballs intomymouth.She turnsaround, andwithno effort bendsover, presentingher long legs andher fine ass tome¸myT-shirtslippingupherbacktowardherheadandhermaneofhair.
Well,IcouldlookatthisglorioussightforawhileandimaginewhatI’dliketodotoit.ButrightnowIwanttospankandfuckher.I laymyhandoverherbackside,enjoyingherwarmthundermypalmasIcaressherthroughherpanties.
Oh,thisassismine,somine.Andit’sgoingtogetwarmer.Islideherpantiestooneside,exposingherlabia,andholdtheminplacewithonehand.Iresist
theurge torunmytongueupanddownthe lengthofhersex;besides,mymouth is full. Instead, Itracethelinedownfromherperineumtoherclitorisandupagain,beforeeasingmyfingerinsideher.
Deep inmy throat Ihumwithapprovaland slowlycirclemy finger, stretchingher.ShemoansandIharden.Instantly.
MissSteeleapproves.Shewantsthis.
With my finger I circle inside her once more, then withdraw and remove the balls from mymouth.Gently,Iinsertthefirstballintoher,thenthesecond,leavingthetagoutside,drapedagainstherclitoris.Ikissherbareassandslideherpantiesbackintoplace.
“Standup,”Icommand,andgraspherhipsuntilIknowshe’ssteadyonherfeet.“Youokay?”“Yes.”Hervoiceisrough.“Turnaround.”Shecompliesimmediately.“Howdoesthatfeel?”Iask.“Strange.”“Strangegoodorstrangebad?”“Strangegood,”sheanswers.“Good.”She’llneedtogetusedtothem.Whatbetterwaythantostretchandreachforsomething?“Iwantaglassofwater.Goandfetchoneforme,please.Andwhenyoucomeback,Ishallputyou
acrossmyknee.Thinkaboutthat,Anastasia.”She’spuzzled,butsheturnsandwalksgingerly,withtentativesteps,outoftheroom.Whileshe’s
goneIcollectacondomfrommydrawer.I’mrunninglow;I’llneedtostockupontheseuntilherpillkicksin.Sittingbackdownonthebed,Iwaitwithimpatience.
Whenshereentersherwalkismoreconfident,andshehasmywater.“Thankyou,”Isay,takingaquicksipandplacingtheglassonmybedsidetable.WhenIlookup
she’swatchingmewithovertdesire.It’sagoodlookonher.“Come.Standbesideme.Likelasttime.”Shedoes,andnowherbreathingisirregular…heavy.Boy,she’sreallyturnedon.Sodifferentfrom
thelasttimeIspankedher.Let’srileherupsomemore,Grey.“Askme.”Myvoiceisfirm.Amystifiedlookcrossesherface.“Askme.”Comeon,Ana.Herbrowfurrows.“Askme,Anastasia.Iwon’tsayitagain.”Myvoiceissharper.Finally,sherealizeswhatI’maskingforandsheblushes.“Spankme,please,Sir,”shesaysquietly.Thosewords…Iclosemyeyesandletthemringthroughmyhead.Graspingherhand,Itugher
overmykneessohertorsolandsonthebed.Whilestrokingherbehindwithonehand,Ismoothherhairoffherfacewiththeother,andtuckitbehindherear.ThenIgraspherhairatthenapeofhernecktoholdherinplace.
“I want to see your face while I spank you.” I caress her behind and push against her vulva,knowingthattheactionwillpushtheballsdeeperinsideher.
Shehumsherapproval.“Thisisforpleasure,Anastasia,mineandyours.”Iliftmyhand,thensmackherrightthere.“Ah!”shemouths,screwingupherface,andIcaresshersweet,sweetasswhilesheadjuststothe
sensation.Whensherelaxes, I smackheragain.Shegroans,andI suppressmyresponse. Ibegin inearnest,rightcheek,leftcheek,thenthejunctionofherthighsandass.BetweeneachsmackIfondleandkneadherbackside,watchingherskinturnadelicateshadeofpinkbeneathherlacyunderwear.
Shemoans,absorbingthepleasure,enjoyingtheexperience.Istop.Iwanttoseeherassinallitsrosyglory.Unhurriedly,teasingher,Itugdownherpanties,
skimmingmyfingertipsdownherthighs,thebacksofherknees,andhercalves.Sheliftsherfeet,andIdiscardherpantiesonthefloor.Shesquirms,butstopswhenIplacemyhandflatagainstherpink,glowingskin.Grabbingherhairagain,Istartanew.Gentlyfirst,thenresumingthepattern.
She’swet;herarousalisonmypalm.Igripherhairharderandshemoans,eyesclosed,mouthopenandslack.Fuck,she’shot.“Goodgirl.”Myvoiceishoarse,mybreathingerratic.IspankheracouplemoretimesuntilIcanbearitnomore.Iwanther.Now.Iwrapmyfingersaroundthetabanddrawtheballsoutofher.Shecriesoutinpleasure.Turningherover,Ipausetoyankmypantsoffandputonawretched
condom,thenliedownbesideher.Igrabherhands,liftthemoverherhead,andslowlyeasemyselfontoherandintoherasshemewlslikeacat.
“Oh,baby.”Shefeelsincredible.“Iwantyoutomakelovetome.”Herwordsringinmyhead.Andgently,ohsogently,Istart tomove, feelingeverypreciousinchofherbeneathandaround
me.Ikissher,appreciatinghermouthandherbodyatonce.Shewrapsherlegsaroundmine,meetingeachgentlethrust,rockingagainstmeuntilshespiralsupandupandupandletsgo.
Herorgasmtipsmeovertheedge.“Ana!”Icall,pouringmyselfintoher.Lettinggo.Awelcomereleasethatleavesme…wantingmore.Needingmore.
Asmyequilibriumreturns,Ipushawaythestrangeswellofemotionthatgnawsatmyinsides.It’snotlikethedarkness,butit’ssomethingtofear.SomethingIdon’tunderstand.
Sheflexesherfingersaroundmine,andIopenmyeyesandlookdownintohersleepy,satedgaze.“Ienjoyedthat,”Iwhisper,andgiveheralingeringkiss.Sherewardsmewithadrowsysmile.Igetup,coverherwiththecomforter,pickupmyPJpants,
andpadintothebathroom,whereIremoveanddisposeofthecondom.Ipullonmypantsandfindthearnicacream.
Backatthebed,Anagivesmeacontentedgrin.“Rollover,”Iorder,andforamomentIthinkshe’sgoingtorollhereyes,butsheindulgesmeand
moves.“Yourassisagloriouscolor,”Iobserve,pleasedwiththeresults.Isquirtsomecreamonmypalmandslowlymassageitintoherbehind.
“Spillthebeans,Grey,”shesayswithayawn.“MissSteele,youknowhowtoruinamoment.”“Wehadadeal,”sheinsists.“Howdoyoufeel?”“Shortchanged.”WithaheavysighIplacethearnicacreamonthebedsidetableandslipintobed,pullingAnainto
myarms.Ikissherear.“Thewomanwhobroughtmeintothisworldwasacrackwhore,Anastasia.Gotosleep.”
Shetensesinmyarms.Istill.Idonotwanthersympathyorherpity.“Was?”shewhispers.“She’sdead.”“Howlong?”“ShediedwhenIwasfour.Idon’treallyrememberher.Carrickhasgivenmesomedetails.Ionly
remembercertainthings.Pleasegotosleep.”Afterawhilesherelaxesagainstme.“Goodnight,Christian.”Hervoiceissleepy.“Good night, Ana.” I kiss her once more, inhaling her soothing scent and fighting off my
memories.
“Don’tjustpicktheapplesandthrowthemaway,asshole!”“Fuckoff,yourighteousdweeb.”Elliotpicksanapple,takesabite,andthrowsitatme.“Maggot,”hetaunts.No!Don’tcallmethat.Ijumphim.Poundingmyfistsintohisface.“Youfuckingpig.Thisisfood.You’rejustwastingit.Grandpasellsthese.Youpig.Pig.Pig.”“ELLIOT.CHRISTIAN.”DaddragsmeoffElliot,whoiscoweringontheground.“Whatisthisabout?”“He’sinsane.”“Elliot!”“He’sdestroyingtheapples.”Angerswellsinmychest,inmythroat.IthinkImightexplode.“He’stakingabiteandthenthrowingthemaway.Throwingthematme.”“Elliot,isthistrue?”ElliotturnsredunderDad’shardstare.“Ithinkyou’dbettercomewithme.Christian,pickuptheapples.YoucanhelpMombake
apie.”
She’sfastasleepwhenIwake,mynoseinherfragranthair,myarmscocooningher.I’vedreamedaboutrompingthroughmygrandfather’sappleorchardwithElliot;thosewerehappy,angrydays.
It’snearlyseven—anotherlie-inwithMissSteele.It’soddwakingupbesideher,butoddinagoodway. I contemplate waking her with a morning fuck; my body is more than willing—but she’spracticallycomatoseandshemightbesore.Ishouldlethersleep.Iclimboutofbed,carefulnottowakeher,grabaT-shirt,gatherherclothesfromthefloor,andwanderintothelivingroom.
“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.”Mrs.Jonesisbusyinthekitchen.“Goodmorning,Gail.”Stretching,Ilookoutthewindowsattheremnantsofavividdawn.“Youhavesomelaundrythere?”sheasks.“Yes.TheseareAnastasia’s.”“Doyouwantmetowashandpressthem?”“Doyouhavetime?”“I’llputthemonthequickcycle.”“Excellent,thankyou.”IpassherAna’sclothes.“Howwasyoursister?”“Verywell,thanks.Thekidsaregrowing.Boyscanberough.”“Iknow.”Shesmilesandofferstomakemesomecoffee.“Please.I’llbeinmystudy.”Asshewatchesmehersmilechangesfrompleasanttoknowing…in
theway that’s feminineandsecretive.Thenshehurriesoutof thekitchen, Iassumeto the laundryroom.
What’sherproblem?Okay,thisisthefirstMonday—thefirsttime—inthefouryearsshe’sworkedformethatthere’s
beenawomanasleepinmybed.Butit’snotthatbigadeal.Breakfastfortwo,Mrs.Jones.Ithinkyoucanmanagethat.
Ishakemyheadandwanderintomystudytostartwork.I’llshowerlater…maybewithAna.I checkmy e-mails and send one to Andrea and Ros, saying I’ll be in this afternoon, not this
morning.ThenItakealookatBarney’slatestschematics.
GAILKNOCKSANDBRINGSmeasecondcupofcoffee,lettingmeknowit’salready8:15.Thatlate?“I’mnotgoingintotheofficethismorning.”“Taylorwasasking.”“I’llgothisafternoon.”“I’lltellhim.I’vehungMissSteele’sclothesinyourcloset.”“Thankyou.Thatwasquick.Shestillasleep?”“I think so.”And there’s that little smile again. I archmybrows andher smilebroadens as she
turnstoleavemystudy.Iputmyworkasideandheadoffwithmycoffeetotakeashowerandhaveashave.
ANAISSTILLOUTforthecountwhenIfinishdressing.You’veexhaustedher,Grey.Anditwaspleasurable,morethanpleasurable.Shelooksserene,asif
shedoesn’thaveacareintheworld.Good.From the chest I takemy watch, and on an impulse open the top drawer and pocket my last
condom.Youneverknow.Iamblebackthroughthelivingroomtowardmystudy.“Doyouwantyourbreakfastyet,sir?”“I’llhavebreakfastwithAna.Thanks.”IpickupthephoneandcallAndreafrommydesk.Afterwe’veexchangedafewwordssheputsme
throughtoRos.“Sowhencanweexpectyou?”Ros’stoneissarcastic.“Goodmorning,Ros.Howareyou?”Isaysweetly.“Pissed.”“Atme?”“Yes,atyou,andyourhands-offworkethic.”“I’llbeinlater.ThereasonI’mcallingisI’vedecidedtoliquidateWoods’scompany.”I’vetoldher
thisalready,butsheandMarcoaretakingtoolong.Iwantthisdone,now.Iremindherthatthiswasgoingtohappenifthecompany’sP&Ldidn’timprove.Andithasn’t.
“Heneedsmoretime.”“I’mnotinterested,Ros.We’renotcarryingdeadweight.”“Areyousure?”“Idon’twantanymorelameexcuses.”Enough,already.I’vemadeupmymind.“Christian—”“HaveMarcocallme,it’sshit-or-busttime.”“Okay.Okay.Ifthat’swhatyoureallywant.Anythingelse?”“Yes.TellBarneythattheprototypelooksgood,thoughI’mnotsureabouttheinterface.”“Ithoughttheinterfaceworkedwell,onceIfigureditout.NotthatI’manexpert.”“No,it’sjustmissingsomething.”“TalktoBarney.”“Iwanttomeethimthisafternoontodiscuss.”“Face-to-face?”Hersarcasmis irritating.ButI ignoreher toneandtellher that Iwanthiswhole teamthere to
brainstorm.
“He’llbepleased.SoI’llseeyouthisafternoon?”Shesoundshopeful.“Okay,”Ireassureher.“TransfermebacktoAndrea.”WhileIwait forher topickup thephoneIgazeoutat thecloudless sky. It’s thesameshadeas
Ana’seyes.Sappy,Grey.“Andrea—”Amovementdistractsme.Lookingup,I’mpleasedtoseeAnastandinginthedoorway,dressedin
nothingbutmyT-shirt.Herlegs,longandshapely,areondisplayformyeyesonly.Shehasgreatlegs.“Mr.Grey,”Andreaanswers.MyeyeslockwithAna’s.Theyarethecolorofasummerskyandjustaswarm.GoodLord,Icould
baskinherwarmthallday—everyday.Don’tbeabsurd,Grey.“Clearmyschedulethismorning,butgetBilltocallme.I’llbeinattwo.IneedtotalktoMarco
thisafternoon,thatwillneedatleasthalfanhour.”AsoftsmiletugsatAna’slipsandIfindmyselfmirroringher.“Yes,sir,”Andreasays.“ScheduleBarneyandhisteaminafterMarcoormaybetomorrow,andfindtimeformetosee
Claudeeverydaythisweek.”“Samwantstotalktoyou,thismorning.”“Tellhimtowait.”“It’saboutDarfur.”“Oh?”“ApparentlyheseestheaidconvoyasagreatpersonalPRopportunity.”Oh,God.Hewould,wouldn’the?“No,Idon’twantpublicityforDarfur.”Myvoiceisgruffwithexasperation.“Hesaysthere’sajournalistfromForbeswhowantstotalktoyouaboutit.”Howthehelldotheyknow?“TellSamtodealwithit,”Isnap.That’swhathe’spaidtodo.“Doyouwanttospeaktohimdirectly?”sheasks.“No.”“Willdo.IalsoneedtoRSVPtotheeventonSaturday.”“Whichevent?”“ChamberofCommerceGala.”“That’snextSaturday?”Iask,asanideapopsintomyhead.“Yes,sir.”“Holdon—” I turn toAna,who’s jigglingher left foot butnot takingher sky-blue eyes offme.
“WhenwillyoubebackfromGeorgia?”“Friday,”shesays.
“I’llneedanextraticket,becauseIhaveadate,”IinformAndrea.“Adate?”Andreasqueakswithincredulity.Isigh.“Yes,Andrea,that’swhatIsaid.Adate.MissAnastasiaSteelewillaccompanyme.”“Yes,Mr.Grey.”ShesoundsasifI’vemadeherday.Forfuck’ssake.Whatisitwithmystaff?“That’sall.”Ihangup.“Goodmorning,MissSteele.”“Mr.Grey,”Anasaysingreeting.IwalkaroundmydeskuntilI’minfrontofher,andcaressher
face.“Ididn’twanttowakeyou,youlookedsopeaceful.Didyousleepwell?”“Iamverywellrested,thankyou.IjustcametosayhibeforeIhadashower.”She’ssmilingand
hereyesareshiningwithdelight.It’sapleasuretoseeherlikethis.BeforeIgetbacktoworkIleandowntogiveheragentlekiss.Suddenlyshewrapsherarmsaroundmyneckandtanglesherfingersinmyhair,andpressesherbodyalongthelengthofmine.
Whoa.Herlipsarepersistent,soIrespond,kissingherback,surprisedbytheintensityofherardor.With
onehandIcupherhead,withtheotherhernaked,recentlyspankedass,andmybodyigniteslikedrytinder.
“Well,sleepseemstoagreewithyou.”Myvoiceislacedwithsuddenlust.“Isuggestyougoandhaveyourshower,orshallIlayyouacrossmydesknow?”
“Ichoosethedesk,”shewhispersatthecornerofmymouth,grindinghersexagainstmyerection.Well,thisisasurprise.Her eyes are dark and greedy with want. “You’ve really got a taste for this, haven’t you,Miss
Steele?You’rebecominginsatiable.”“I’veonlygotatasteforyou.”“Damnright.Onlyme!”Herwordsareasiren’scalltomylibido.Losingallself-restraint,Isweep
everythingoffmydesk,sendingmypapers,phone,andpensallclatteringorfloatingtothefloor,butIdon’tgiveadamn.IliftAnaandlayheracrossmydesksoherhairspillsovertheedgeandontotheseatofmychair.
“You want it, you got it, baby,” I growl, whipping out the condom and unzipping my pants.Makingquickworkofcoveringmycock,IstaredownattheinsatiableMissSteele.“Isurehopeyou’reready,”Iwarnher,grabbingholdofherwristsandkeepingthemathersides.WithoneswiftmoveI’minsideher.
“Ah…Christ,Ana.You’resoready.”Igiveherananosecondtoadjusttomypresence.ThenIstarttopush.Backandforth.Overandover.Harderandharder.Shetipsherheadback,mouthopeninawordless plea, asherbreasts rise and fall in rhythmwith each jolt toherbody.Shewrapsher legsaroundmewhileIstand,drillingintoher.
Thiswhatyouwant,baby?Shemeetseverythrust,rockingagainstmeandmoaningasIpossessher.Takingher—higherand
higherandhigher—untilIfeelherstiffeningaroundme.“Comeon, baby, give it up forme,” I grit throughclenched teeth, and shedoes, spectacularly,
cryingoutandsuckingmeintomyownorgasm.Fuck.Icomeasspectacularlyasshedoes,andIslumpdownontopofherwhileherbodytightens
aroundmewithaftershocks.Damn.Thatwasunexpected.“Whatthehellareyoudoingtome?”I’mbreathless,mylipsskimmingherneck.“Youcompletely
beguileme,Ana.Youweavesomepowerfulmagic.”Andyoujumpedme!Ireleaseherwristsandmovetostand,butshetightensherlegsaroundme,herfingerstanglingin
myhair.“I’mtheonebeguiled,”shewhispers.Oureyesarelocked,herscrutinyintense,asifshe’sseeing
throughme.Seeingthedarknessinmysoul.Shit.Letmego.Thisistoomuch.Icupherfaceinmyhandstokissherquickly,butasIdotheunwelcomethoughtofherbeingin
thispositionwithsomeoneelsepopsintomymind.No.She’snotdoingthiswithanyoneelse.Ever.“You.Are.Mine.”Mywordscrackbetweenus.“Doyouunderstand?”“Yes, yours,” she says, her expression heartfelt, her words full of conviction, andmy irrational
jealousyrecedes.“AreyousureyouhavetogotoGeorgia?”Iask,smoothingherhairfromaroundherface.Shenods.Damn.Ipulloutofherandshewinces.“Areyousore?”“Alittle,”shesayswithatimidsmile.“Ilikeyousore.RemindsyouwhereI’vebeen,andonlyme.”Igiveherarough,possessivekiss.BecauseIdon’twanthertogotoGeorgia.Andnoone’sjumpedmesince…sinceElena.Andeventhen,itwasalwayscalculated,partofascene.Standing, I hold outmy hand and pull her to a sitting position. As I tug off the condom, she
murmurs,“Alwaysprepared.”I give her a confounded look as I fastenmy fly. She holds up the empty foil packet byway of
explanation.“Amancanhope,Anastasia,dreameven,andsometimeshisdreamscometrue.”IhadnoideaI’d
get touse it so soon,andonher terms,notmine.MissSteele, for suchan innocent, youare,as ever,unexpected.
“So…onyourdesk…that’sbeenadream?”sheasks.Sweetheart. I’vehadsexonthisdeskmany,manytimes,butalwaysatmyinstigation,neverata
submissive’s.Thisisnothowitworks.Herfacefallsasshereadsmythoughts.
Shit.WhatcanIsay?Ana,unlikeyou,Ihaveapast.Irunmyhandthroughmyhairinfrustration;thismorningisnotgoingaccordingtoplan.“I’dbettergoandhaveashower,”shesays,subdued.Shestandsandtakesafewstepstowardthe
door.“I’vegotacouplemorecallstomake.I’lljoinyouforbreakfastonceyou’reoutoftheshower.”I
gaze after her, wondering what to say to make this right. “I thinkMrs. Jones has laundered yourclothesfromyesterday.They’reinthecloset.”
Shelookssurprised,andimpressed.“Thankyou,”shesays.“You’remostwelcome.”Herbrowcreasesasshestudiesme,baffled.“What?”Iask.“What’swrong?”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Well,you’rebeingmoreweirdthanusual.”“Youfindmeweird?”Ana,baby,“weird”ismymiddlename.“Sometimes.”Tellher.Tellhernoone’spouncedonyouforalongtime.“Asever,I’msurprisedbyyou,MissSteele.”“Surprisedhow?”“Let’sjustsaythatwasanunexpectedtreat.”“Weaimtoplease,Mr.Grey,”sheteases,stillscrutinizingme.“Andpleasemeyoudo,”Iacknowledge.Butyoudisarmme,too.“Ithoughtyouweregoingtohave
ashower?”Hermouthturnsdown.Shit.“Yes,um,I’llseeyouinamoment.”Sheturnsandscampersoutofmystudy,leavingmestanding
inamazeofconfusion. I shakemyhead toclear it, thenbeginpickingupmyscatteredbelongingsfromthefloorandarrangingthemonmydesk.
Howthehellcanshejustwaltzintomystudyandseduceme?I’msupposedtobeincontrolofthisrelationship.This iswhat Iwas thinking about last night: her unbridled enthusiasm and affection.How thehell am I supposed todealwith that? It’snot something I know. I pause as I pickupmyphone.
Butit’snice.Yeah.Morethannice.Ichuckleatthethoughtandrememberher“nice”e-mail.Damn,there’samissedcallfromBill.
Hemusthavephonedduringmy trystwithMissSteele. I sit down atmydesk,master ofmyownuniverseoncemore—nowthatshe’sintheshower—andcallhimback.IneedBilltotellmeaboutDetroit…andIneedtogetbackonmygame.
Billdoesn’tpickup,soIcallAndrea.“Mr.Grey.”“Isthejetfreetodayandtomorrow?”“It’snotscheduledforuseuntilThursday,sir.”“Great.CanyoutryBillforme?”“Sure.”MyconversationwithBillislengthy.Ruthhasdoneanexcellentjobscoutingalloftheavailable
brownfieldsitesinDetroit.Twoareviableforthetechplantwewanttobuild,andBilliscertainthatDetroithastheavailablelaborforcewerequire.
Myheartsinks.DoesithavetobeDetroit?Ihavevaguememoriesoftheplace:drunks,hobos,andcrackheadsshoutingatusonthestreets;
theseedydivewecalledhome;andayoung,brokenwoman,thecrackwhoreIcalledMommy,staringintospacewhileshesatinadrab,grimyroomfilledwithstaleairanddustmotes.
Andhim.Ishudder.Don’tthinkabouthim…orher.ButIcan’thelpit.Anahassaidnothingaboutmynocturnalconfession.I’venevermentionedthe
crackwhore to anyone. Perhaps that’s whyAna attackedme thismorning: she thinks I need someTLC.
Fuckthat.Baby.I’lltakeyourbodyifyouofferitup.I’mdoingjustfine.Butevenasthethoughtpopsintomy
headIwonderifI’m“justfine.”Iignoremyunease;it’ssomethingtodiscusswithFlynnwhenhe’sback.
Rightnow,I’mhungry.Ihopeshe’sgottenhersweetbuttoutofthatshower,becauseIneedtoeat.
ANAISSTANDINGATthekitchencountertalkingtoMrs.Jones,whohassetplacesforourbreakfast.“Wouldyoulikesomethingtoeat?”asksMrs.Jones.“Nothankyou,”Anasays.Ohnoyoudon’t.“Ofcourseyou’llhavesomethingtoeat,”Igrowlatbothofthem.“Shelikespancakes,bacon,and
eggs,Mrs.Jones.”“Yes,Mr.Grey.Whatwouldyoulike,sir?”shereplies,withoutbattinganeyelid.“Omelet,please,andsomefruit.Sit,”ItellAna,pointingtooneofthebarstools.Shedoes,andI
takeaseatbesideherwhileMrs.Jonesmakesourbreakfast.“Haveyouboughtyourairticket?”Iask.“No,I’llbuyitwhenIgethome,overtheInternet.”“Doyouhavethemoney?”“Yes,”shesays,asifI’mfiveyearsold,andshetossesherhairoverhershoulder,flatteningherlips,
peeved,Ithink.
Iarchaneyebrowincensure.Icouldalwaysspankyouagain,sweetheart.“Yes,Ido,thankyou,”shesaysquickly,inamoresubduedtone.That’sbetter.“Ihaveajet.It’snotscheduledtobeusedforthreedays;it’satyourdisposal.”Thiswillbea“no.”
ButatleastIcanoffer.Herlipspartinshockandherexpressiontransforms,fromstunnedtoimpressedandexasperated
inequalmeasure. “We’vealreadymade seriousmisuseofyourcompany’saviation fleet. Iwouldn’twanttodoitagain,”shesaysnonchalantly.
“It’smycompany,it’smyjet.”Sheshakesherhead.“Thankyoufortheoffer.ButI’dbehappiertakingascheduledflight.”Surelymostwomenwouldjumpat theopportunityof takingaprivatejet,butitseemsmaterial
wealthreallydoesn’timpressthisgirl—orshedoesn’tliketofeelindebtedtome.I’mnotsurewhich.Eitherway,she’sastubborncreature.
“Asyouwish.”Isigh.“Doyouhavemuchpreparationtodoforyourinterview?”“No.”“Good.”Iaskbutshestillwon’ttellmewhichofthepublishinghousesshe’sseeing.Insteadshe
givesmeasphinxlikesmile.There’snowayshe’sdivulgingthissecret.“I’mamanofmeans,MissSteele.”“I’mfullyawareofthat,Mr.Grey.Areyougoingtotrackmyphone?”Trusthertorememberthat.“Actually,I’llbequitebusythisafternoon,soI’llhavetogetsomeone
elsetodoit,”Ianswer,smirking.“Ifyoucansparesomeonetodothat,you’reobviouslyoverstaffed.”Oh,she’ssassytoday.“I’llsendane-mailtotheheadofhumanresourcesandhaveherlookintoourheadcount.”This
iswhatIlike:ourbanter.It’srefreshingandfun,andunlikeanythingI’veknownbefore.Mrs. Jones servesusbreakfast, and I’mpleased to seeAna relishingher food.WhenMrs. Jones
leavesthekitchenAnapeersupatme.“Whatisit,Anastasia?”“Youknow,youneverdidtellmewhyyoudon’tliketobetouched.”Notthisagain!“I’vetoldyoumorethanI’veevertoldanybody.”Myvoiceislowtoconcealmyfrustration.Why
doesshepersistwiththesequestions?Sheeatsanothercoupleofmouthfulsofherpancakes.“Willyouthinkaboutourarrangementwhileyou’reaway?”Iask.“Yes.”She’searnest.“Willyoumissme?”Grey!She turns to faceme, as surprisedas I amby thequestion. “Yes,” she says after amoment,her
expressionopenandhonest.Iwasexpectingasmartremark,yetIgetthetruth.Andstrangely,Ifindheradmissioncomforting.
“I’llmissyou,too,”Imutter.“Morethanyouknow.”Myapartmentwillbealittlequieterwithouther,andalittleemptier.Istrokehercheekandkissher.Shegivesmeasweetsmilebeforereturningtoherbreakfast.
“I’llbrushmyteeth,thenIshouldgo,”sheannounces,onceshe’sfinished.“Sosoon.Ithoughtyoumightstaylonger.”She’stakenaback.DidshethinkI’dkickherout?“I’veprevaileduponyouand takenupyour time for longenough,Mr.Grey.Besides,don’tyou
haveanempiretorun?”“Icanplayhooky.”Hopeswellsinmychestandmyvoice.AndI’vejustclearedmymorning.“Ihavetoprepformyinterviews.Andgetchanged.”Sheeyesmewarily.“Youlookgreat.”“Why, thankyou,Sir,” she saysgraciously.Buthercheeksarecoloring their familiar rosypink,
likeherasslastnight.She’sembarrassed.Whenwillshelearntotakeacompliment?Rising,shetakesherplatetothesink.“Leavethat.Mrs.Joneswilldoit.”“Okay.I’mjustgoingtobrushmyteeth.”“Pleasefeelfreetousemytoothbrush,”Ioffer,withsarcasm.“Ihadevery intentionofdoing so,” she says, and sashaysoutof the room.Thatwomanhas an
answerforeverything.Shereturnsafewmomentslaterwithherpurse.“Don’tforgettotakeyourBlackBerry,yourMac,andyourchargerstoGeorgia.”“Yes,Sir,”shesaysobediently.Goodgirl.“Come.”Ileadhertotheelevatorandstepinwithher.“Youdon’thavetocomedown.Icanseemyselftomycar.”“It’sallpartoftheservice,”Iquipironically.“Besides,Icankissyouallthewaydown.”Ifoldher
intomyarmsanddojustthat,enjoyinghertasteandhertongueandgivingherapropergood-bye.We’re both aroused and breathless by the time the doors open on the garage level. But she’s
leaving.Itakehertohercarandopenthedriver’sdoorforher,ignoringmyneed.“Good-bye,fornow,Sir,”shewhispers,andkissesmeoncemore.“Drivesafely,Anastasia.Andsafetravels.”Icloseherdoor,standback,andwatchherleave.Then
Iheadupstairs.IknockonTaylor’sstudydoorandlethimknowthatI’dliketogototheofficeintenminutes.“I’ll
havethecarwaiting,sir.”
ICALLWELCHFROMthecar.“Mr.Grey,”herasps.“Welch.AnastasiaSteeleisbuyinganairlinetickettoday,leavingSeattletonightforSavannah.I’d
liketoknowwhichflightshe’son.”“Doesshehaveanairlinepreference?”“I’mafraidIdon’tknow.”“I’llseewhatIcando.”Ihangup.Mycunningplanisfallingintoplace.
“MR.GREY!”ANDREAISstartledatmyappearanceseveralhoursearly.IwanttotellherthatIdofuckingworkhere,butIdecidetobehave.
“IthoughtI’dsurpriseyou.”“Coffee?”shechirps.“Please.”“Withorwithoutmilk?”Goodgirl.“With.Steamedmilk.”“Yes,Mr.Grey.”“TryCarolineActon.I’dliketospeaktoherrightaway.”“Ofcourse.”“AndmakeanappointmentformetoseeFlynn,nextweek.”Shenodsandsitsdowntowork.At
mydesk,Iswitchonmycomputer.Thefirste-mailinmyinboxisfromElena.
From:ElenaLincolnSubject:TheWeekend
Date:May302011,10:15
To:ChristianGrey
Christian,whatgives?
Yourmothertoldmeyoutookayoungwomantodinneryesterday.
I’mintrigued.It’ssonotyourstyle.
You’vefoundanewsubmissive?
Callme.
Ex
ELENALINCOLN
ESCLAVAForTheBeautyThatIsYou™
That’sallIneed.Iclosehere-mail,resolvingtoignoreitfornow.OliviaknocksandenterswithmycoffeeasAndreabuzzesmyphone.
“IhaveWelchforyou,andI’veleftamessageforMs.Acton,”Andreaannounces.
“Good.Puthimthrough.”Oliviaplacesthelatteonmydeskandexitsflustered.Idomybesttoignoreher.“Welch.”“No airline tickets purchased as yet,Mr.Grey. But I’llmonitor the situation and inform you,
shouldthatchange.”“Pleasedo.”Hehangsup.ItakeasipofcoffeeanddialRos.
JUSTBEFORELUNCHANDREAputsCarolineActonthrough.“Mr.Grey,howlovely tohear fromyou.WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Hello,Ms.Acton.I’dliketheusual.”“Thecapsulewardrobe?Doyouhaveacolorpaletteinmind?”“Bluesandgreens.Silvermaybe,foraformalevent.”TheChamberofCommercedinnersprings
tomind.“Gemcolors,Ithink.”“Nice,”Ms.Actonrespondswithherusualenthusiasm.“Andsatinandsilkunderwearandnightwear.Somethingglamorous.”“Yes,sir.Doyouhaveabudgetinmind?”“Nobudget.Goall-out.Iwanteverythinghigh-end.”“Shoes,too?”“Please.”“Great.Sizes?”“I’lle-mailyou.Ihaveyouraddressfromlasttime.”“Whenwouldyoulikedelivery?”“ThisFriday.”“I’msureIcandothat.Wouldyouliketoseephotographsofmychoices?”“Please.”“Great.I’llgetonit.”“Thankyou.”IhangupandAndreaputsWelchthrough.“Welch.”“MissSteeleistravelingonDL2610toAtlanta,departingat22:25thisevening.”I jot down all the details of her flights and connection intoSavannah. I summonAndrea,who
entersmomentslater,carryinghernotebook.“Andrea,AnastasiaSteeleistravelingontheseflights.Upgradehertofirstclass,checkherin,and
payforhertoenterthefirst-class lounge.Andbuytheseatbesideheronall flights, thereandback.Usemypersonalcreditcard.”Andrea’spuzzled look tellsme that she thinks I’ve taken leaveofmysenses,butsherecoversquicklyandacceptsmyhand-scribblednote.
“Willdo,Mr.Grey.”She’stryingherbesttokeepitprofessional,butIcatchhersmiling.Thisisnoneofherbusiness.
MYAFTERNOONISSPENTinmeetings.MarcohaspreparedpreliminaryreportsonthefourpublishinghousesbasedinSeattle.Isetthemasidetoreadlater.He’salsoinagreementwithmeaboutWoodsandhiscompany.Thisisgoingtogetugly,buthavinglookedatthesynergies,theonlywayforwardistoabsorbWoods’stechdivisionandliquidatetherestofhiscompany.It’sgoingtobeexpensive,butit’sbestforGEH.
InthelateafternoonImanagetohaveaquickandstrenuousworkoutwithBastille,soI’mcalmandrelaxedwhenIheadhome.
AfteralightsupperIsitdowntoreadatmydesk.FirstorderoftheeveningistoreplytoElena.ButwhenIopenmye-mails,there’sonefromAna.Shehasn’tbeenfarfrommythoughtsallday.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:InterviewsDate:May30201118:49
To:ChristianGrey
DearSir,
Myinterviewswentwelltoday.
Thoughtyoumightbeinterested.
Howwasyourday?
Ana
Itypemyresponseimmediately.
From:ChristianGreySubject:MyDay
Date:May30201119:03
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Everythingyoudointerestsme.YouarethemostfascinatingwomanIknow.
I’mgladyourinterviewswentwell.
Mymorningwasbeyondallexpectations.
Myafternoonwasverydullincomparison.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Isitbackandrubmychin,waiting.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:FineMorning
Date:May30201119:05
To:ChristianGrey
DearSir,
Themorningwasexemplaryforme,too,inspiteofyouweirdingoutonmeaftertheimpeccabledesksex.Don’t
thinkIdidn’tnotice.
Thankyouforbreakfast.OrthankMrs.Jones.
I’dliketoaskyouquestionsabouther—withoutyouweirdingoutonmeagain.
Ana
Weirding?Whatonearthdoesshemeanbythat?IsshesayingI’mweird?Well,Iam,Isuppose.Maybe.Perhapsshe’srealizedhowsurprisedIwaswhenshejumpedme—andnoone’sdonethatforalongtime.
“Impeccable”…I’lltakethat.
From:ChristianGreySubject:PublishingandYou?Date:May30201119:10
To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,
“Weirding”isnotaverbandshouldnotbeusedbyanyonewhowantstogointopublishing.Impeccable?
Comparedtowhat,praytell?AndwhatdoyouneedtoaskaboutMrs.Jones?I’mintrigued.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:YouandMrs.Jones
Date:May30201119:17
To:ChristianGrey
DearSir,
Languageevolvesandmoveson.Itisanorganicthing.Itisnotstuckinanivorytower,hungwithexpensive
worksofartandoverlookingmostofSeattlewithahelipadstuckonitsroof.
Impeccable—comparedtotheothertimeswehave…what’syourword…ohyes…fucked.Actually,thefucking
hasbeenprettyimpeccable,period,inmyhumbleopinion—butthen,asyouknow,Ihaveverylimited
experience.
IsMrs.Jonesanex-subofyours?
Ana
Herresponsemakesmelaughoutloud,thenshocksme.Mrs.Jones!Submissive?Noway.Ana.Areyoujealous?Andspeakingoflanguage…watchyours!
From:ChristianGreySubject:Language.WatchYourMouth!
Date:May30201119:22
To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,
Mrs.Jonesisavaluedemployee.Ihaveneverhadanyrelationshipwithherbeyondourprofessionalone.Ido
notemployanyoneI’vehadanysexualrelationswith.Iamshockedthatyouwouldthinkso.TheonlypersonI
wouldmakeanexceptiontothisruleisyou—becauseyouareabrightyoungwomanwithremarkable
negotiatingskills.Though,ifyoucontinuetousesuchlanguage,Imayhavetoreconsidertakingyouonhere.I
amgladyouhavelimitedexperience.Yourexperiencewillcontinuetobelimited—justtome.Ishalltake
“impeccable”asacompliment—thoughwithyou,I’mneversureifthat’swhatyoumeanorifyoursenseofirony
isgettingthebetterofyou—asusual.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.,fromHisIvoryTower
ThoughperhapsitmightnotbeagoodideaforAnatoworkforme.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:NotforAlltheTeainChinaDate:May30201119:27
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
IthinkIhavealreadyexpressedmyreservationsaboutworkingforyourcompany.Myviewsonthishavenot
changed,arenotchanging,andwillnotchange,ever.Imustleaveyounow,asKatehasreturnedwithfood.My
senseofironyandIbidyougoodnight.
IwillcontactyouonceI’minGeorgia.
Ana
ForsomereasonI’mmildly irritated tohear that shewouldn’twant towork forme.ShehasanimpressiveGPA.She’sbright,charming,funny;she’dbeanassettoanycompany.She’salsowisetosayno.
From:ChristianGreySubject:EvenTwiningsEnglishBreakfastTea?Date:May30201119:29
To:AnastasiaSteele
Goodnight,Anastasia.
Ihopeyouandyoursenseofironyhaveasafeflight.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
IputallthoughtsofMissSteeleasideandstartonaresponsetoElena.
From:ChristianGreySubject:TheWeekend
Date:May302011,19:47
To:ElenaLincoln
Hello,Elena.
Mymotherhasabigmouth.WhatcanIsay?
Imetagirl.Broughthertodinner.
It’snotabigdeal.
Howgoesitwithyou?
Best,
Christian
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:ElenaLincolnSubject:TheWeekend
Date:May302011,19:50
To:ChristianGrey
Christian,that’sbullshit.
Let’sdodinner.
Tomorrow?
Ex
ELENALINCOLN
ESCLAVAForTheBeautyThatIsYou™
Fuck!
From:ChristianGreySubject:TheWeekend
Date:May302011,20:01
To:ElenaLincoln
Sure.
Best,
Christian
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:ElenaLincolnSubject:TheWeekend
Date:May302011,20:05
To:ChristianGrey
DoyouwanttomeetthegirlImentioned?
Ex
ELENALINCOLN
ESCLAVAForTheBeautyThatIsYou™
Notatthemoment.
From:ChristianGreySubject:TheWeekend
Date:May302011,20:11
To:ElenaLincoln
IthinkI’llletthearrangementIhavenowrunitscourse.
Seeyoutomorrow.
C.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
IsitdowntoreadFred’sdraftproposalforEamonKavanagh,thenmoveontoMarco’ssummaryofthepublishinghousesinSeattle.
JUSTBEFORE10:00 I’Mdistractedbyapingfrommycomputer. It’s late. Iassumeit’samessagefromAna.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Over-ExtravagantGesturesDate:May30201121:53
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
WhatreallyalarmsmeishowyouknewwhichflightIwason.
Yourstalkingknowsnobounds.Let’shopethatDr.Flynnisbackfromvacation.
Ihavehadamanicure,abackmassage,andtwoglassesofchampagne—averynicestarttomyvacation.
Thankyou.
Ana
She’sbeenupgraded.Welldone,Andrea.
From:ChristianGreySubject:You’reMostWelcome
Date:May30201121:59
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Dr.Flynnisback,andIhaveanappointmentnextweek.
Whowasmassagingyourback?
ChristianGreyCEOwithfriendsintherightplaces,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Icheckthetimeofhere-mail.Sheshouldbeonboardrightnow,ifherplaneisontime.IquicklyopenGoogleandcheckdeparturesfromSea-Tac.Herflightisonschedule.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:StrongAbleHandsDate:May30201122:22
To:ChristianGrey
DearSir,
Averypleasantyoungmanmassagedmyback.Yes.Verypleasantindeed.Iwouldn’thaveencounteredJean-
Paulintheordinarydeparturelounge—sothankyouagainforthattreat.
Whatthehell?
I’mnotsureifI’llbeallowedtoe-mailoncewetakeoff,andIneedmybeautysleepsinceI’venotbeensleeping
sowellrecently.
Pleasantdreams,Mr.Grey…thinkingofyou.
Ana
Isshetryingtomakemejealous?DoesshehaveanyideahowmadIcanget?She’sbeengoneforafewhours,andshe’sdeliberatelymakingmeangry.Whydoesshedothistome?
From:ChristianGreySubject:EnjoyItWhileYouCan
Date:May30201122:25
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Iknowwhatyou’retryingtodo—andtrustme,you’vesucceeded.Nexttimeyou’llbeinthecargohold,bound
andgaggedinacrate.BelievemewhenIsaythatattendingtoyouinthatstatewillgivemesomuchmore
pleasurethanmerelyupgradingyourticket.
Ilookforwardtoyourreturn.
ChristianGreyPalm-TwitchingCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Herresponseisalmostimmediate.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Joking?Date:May30201122:30
To:ChristianGrey
Yousee—Ihavenoideaifyou’rejoking—andifyou’renot,thenIthinkI’llstayinGeorgia.Cratesareahardlimit
forme.SorryImadeyoumad.Tellmeyouforgiveme.
A
OfcourseI’mjoking…sortof.AtleastsheknowsI’mmad.Herplaneshouldbetakingoff.Howisshee-mailing?
From:ChristianGreySubject:JokingDate:May30201122:31
To:AnastasiaSteele
Howcanyoubee-mailing?Areyouriskingthelifeofeveryoneonboard,includingyourself,byusingyour
BlackBerry?Ithinkthatcontravenesoneoftherules.
ChristianGreyTwo-Palms-TwitchingCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Andweknowwhathappensifyoucontravenetherules,MissSteele.IchecktheSea-Tacwebsiteforflightdepartures;herplanehasleft.Iwon’tbehearingfromherforawhile.Thatthought,aswellasherlittlee-mailstunt,hasputmeinafoulmood.Abandoningmywork,Iheadintothekitchenanddecidetopourmyselfadrink,tonightArmagnac.
Taylorpopshisheadaroundtheentrancetothelivingroom.“Notnow,”Ibark.“Verygood,sir,”hesays,andheadsbacktowhereverhecamefrom.Don’ttakeyourmoodoutonthestaff,Grey.Annoyedatmyself,IwalktowardthewindowsandstareoutattheSeattleskyline.Iwonderhow
she’sgottenundermyskin,andwhyourrelationshipisnotprogressinginthedirectionIwouldlike.I’mhopingthatonceshe’shadachancetoreflectinGeorgia,she’llmaketherightdecision.Won’tshe?
Anxietybloomsinmychest.Itakeanotherslugofmydrinkandsitdownatmypianotoplay.
TUESDAY,MAY31,2011
Mommyisgone.Idon’tknowwhere.He’shere.Ihearhisboots.Theyareloudboots.Theyhavesilverbuckles.Theystomp.Loud.Hestomps.Andheshouts.IaminMommy’scloset.Hiding.Hewon’thearme.Icanbequiet.Veryquiet.QuietbecauseI’mnothere.“Youfuckingbitch!”heshouts.Heshoutsalot.“Youfuckingbitch!”HeshoutsatMommy.Heshoutsatme.HehitsMommy.Hehitsme.Ihearthedoorclose.He’snothereanymore.AndMommyisgone,too.Istayinthecloset.Inthedark.I’mveryquiet.Isitforalongtime.Along,long,longtime.WhereisMommy?
There’sawhisperofdawnintheskywhenIopenmyeyes.Theradioalarmsays5:23.I’vesleptfitfully,plaguedbyunpleasantdreams,andI’mexhausted,butIdecidetogoforaruntowakemyselfup.OnceI’minsweats,Ipickupmyphone.There’satextfromAna.
ArrivedsafelyinSavannah.A:)
Good.She’sthere,andsafe.ThethoughtpleasesmeandIquicklyscanmye-mail.ThesubjectofAna’slatestmessageleapsoutatme:“Doyouliketoscareme?”
Nofuckingway.MyscalppricklesandIsitdownonthebed,scrollingthroughherwords.Shemusthavesentthis
duringherlayoverinAtlanta,beforeshesenthertext.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Doyouliketoscareme?
Date:May31201106:52EST
To:ChristianGrey
YouknowhowmuchIdislikeyouspendingmoneyonme.Yes,you’reveryrich,butstillitmakesme
uncomfortable,likeyou’repayingmeforsex.However,Iliketravelingfirstclass,it’ssomuchmorecivilizedthan
coach.Sothankyou.Imeanit—andIdidenjoythemassagefromJean-Paul.Hewasverygay.Iomittedthatbit
inmye-mailtoyoutowindyouup,becauseIwasannoyedwithyou,andI’msorryaboutthat.
Butasusualyouoverreact.Youcan’twritethingslikethattome—boundandgaggedinacrate.(Wereyou
seriousorwasitajoke?)Thatscaresme…youscareme…Iamcompletelycaughtupinyourspell,consideringa
lifestylewithyouthatIdidn’tevenknowexisteduntillastweek,andthenyouwritesomethinglikethatandIwant
torunscreamingintothehills.Iwon’t,ofcourse,becauseI’dmissyou.Reallymissyou.Iwantustowork,butI
amterrifiedofthedepthoffeelingIhaveforyouandthedarkpathyou’releadingmedown.Whatyouareoffering
iseroticandsexy,andI’mcurious,butI’malsoscaredyou’llhurtme—physicallyandemotionally.Afterthree
monthsyoucouldsaygood-bye,andwherewillthatleavemeifyoudo?ButthenIsupposethatriskistherein
anyrelationship.Thisjustisn’tthesortofrelationshipIeverenvisagedhaving,especiallyasmyfirst.It’sahuge
leapoffaithforme.
YouwererightwhenyousaidIdidn’thaveasubmissiveboneinmybody…andIagreewithyounow.Having
saidthat,Iwanttobewithyou,andifthat’swhatIhavetodo,Iwouldliketotry,butIthinkI’llsuckatitandend
upblackandblue—andIdon’trelishthatideaatall.
Iamsohappythatyouhavesaidthatyouwilltrymore.Ijustneedtothinkaboutwhat“more”meanstome,and
that’soneofthereasonswhyIwantedsomedistance.YoudazzlemesomuchIfinditverydifficulttothink
clearlywhenwe’retogether.
Theyarecallingmyflight.Ihavetogo.
Morelater.
YourAna
She’sreprimandingme.Again.Butshe’sstunnedmewithherhonesty.It’silluminating.Ireadhere-mailagainandagain,andeachtimeIpauseat“YourAna.”
MyAna.Shewantsustowork.Shewantstobewithme.There’shope,Grey.Iplacemyphoneonmybedside,anddecideIneedthatrun,toclearmyheadsoIcanthinkabout
myresponse.ItakemyusualrouteupStewarttoWestlakeAvenuethenaroundDennyParkafewtimes,Four
Tet’s“SheJustLikestoFight”ringinginmyears.Ana’sgivenmeagreatdealtoprocess.Payingherforsex?Likeawhore.
I’veneverthoughtofherthatway.Justtheideamakesmemad.Reallyfuckingmad.Isprintoncemorearoundthepark,myangerspurringmeon.Whydoesshedothistoherself?I’mrich,sowhat?Shejustneedstogetusedtothat.I’mremindedofourconversationyesterdayabouttheGEHjet.Shewouldn’ttakethatoffer.
Atleastshedoesn’twantmeformymoney.Butdoesshewantmeatall?ShesaysIdazzleher.Butboy,hasshegotthatthewrongwayaround.Shedazzlesmeinaway
thatI’veneverexperienced,yetshe’sflownacrossthecountrytogetawayfromme.How’sthatsupposedtomakemefeel?She’s right. It is a dark path I’m leadingher down, but one that is farmore intimate than any
vanillarelationship—orsoI’veseen.IonlyhavetolookatElliotandhisalarminglycasualapproachtodatingtoseethedifference.
AndI’dneverhurtherphysicallyoremotionally—howcanshethinkthat?Ijustwanttopushherlimits,seewhatshewillandwon’tdo.Punishherwhenshecolorsoutsidethelines…yeah,itmighthurt,butnotbeyondanythingshecantake.WecanworkuptowhatI’dliketodo.Wecantakeitslow.
Andhere’stherub.Ifshe’sgoingtodowhatIwanthertodo,I’mgoingtohavetoreassureherandgiveher“more.”
Whatthatmightbe…Idon’tyetknow.I’vetakenhertomeetmyparents.Thatwasmore,surely.Andthatwasn’tsohard.
Itakeaslowerjogaroundtheparktothinkaboutwhatdisturbsmemostabouthere-mail.Itisn’therfear,it’sthatshe’sterrifiedofthedepthoffeelingshehasforme.
Whatdoesthatmean?Thatunfamiliarfeelingsurfacesinmychestasmylungsburnforair.Itscaresme.Scaresmeso
muchthatIpushmyselfharder,sothatallIfeelisthepainofexertioninmylegsandinmychestandthecoldsweatthattricklesdownmyback.
Yeah.Don’tgothere,Grey.Stayincontrol.
BACKINMYAPARTMENTIhaveaquickshowerandshave,andthenIdress.GailisinthekitchenwhenIwalkthroughonthewaytomystudy.
“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.Coffee?”“Please,”Isay,notstopping.I’monamission.AtmydeskIfireupmyiMacandcomposemyresponsetoAna.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Finally!Date:May31201107:30
To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,
Iamannoyedthatassoonasyouputsomedistancebetweenus,youcommunicateopenlyandhonestlywith
me.Whycan’tyoudothatwhenwe’retogether?
Yes,I’mrich.Getusedtoit.Whyshouldn’tIspendmoneyonyou?We’vetoldyourfatherI’myourboyfriend,for
heaven’ssake.Isn’tthatwhatboyfriendsdo?AsyourDom,IwouldexpectyoutoacceptwhateverIspendon
youwithnoargument.Incidentally,tellyourmother,too.
Idon’tknowhowtoansweryourcommentaboutfeelinglikeawhore.Iknowthat’snotwhatyou’vewritten,but
it’swhatyouimply.Idon’tknowwhatIcansayordotoeradicatethesefeelings.I’dlikeyoutohavethebestof
everything.IworkexceptionallyhardsoIcanspendmymoneyasIseefit.Icouldbuyyouyourheart’sdesire,
Anastasia,andIwantto.Callitredistributionofwealth,ifyouwill.OrsimplyknowthatIwouldnot,couldnotever
thinkofyouinthewayyoudescribed,andI’mangrythat’showyouperceiveyourself.Forsuchabright,witty,
beautifulyoungwoman,youhavesomerealself-esteemissues,andIhavehalfamindtomakeanappointment
foryouwithDr.Flynn.
Iapologizeforfrighteningyou.Ifindthethoughtofinstillingfearinyouabhorrent.DoyoureallythinkI’dletyou
travelinthehold?Iofferedyoumyprivatejet,forheaven’ssake.Yes,itwasajoke,apooroneobviously.
However,thefactisthethoughtofyouboundandgaggedturnsmeon(thisisnotajoke—it’strue).Icanlose
thecrate—cratesdonothingforme.Iknowyouhaveissueswithgagging—we’vetalkedaboutthat—andif/when
Idogagyou,we’lldiscussit.WhatIthinkyoufailtorealizeisthatinDom/subrelationshipsitisthesubwhohas
allthepower.That’syou.I’llrepeatthis—youaretheonewithallthepower.NotI.Intheboathouseyousaidno.I
can’ttouchyouifyousayno—that’swhywehaveanagreement—whatyouwillandwon’tdo.Ifwetrythings
andyoudon’tlikethem,wecanrevisetheagreement.It’suptoyou—notme.Andifyoudon’twanttobebound
andgaggedinacrate,thenitwon’thappen.
Iwanttosharemylifestylewithyou.Ihaveneverwantedanythingsomuch.Frankly,I’minaweofyou,thatone
soinnocentwouldbewillingtotry.Thatsaysmoretomethanyoucouldeverknow.YoufailtoseeIamcaught
inyourspell,too,eventhoughIhavetoldyouthiscountlesstimes.Idon’twanttoloseyou.Iamnervousthat
you’veflownthreethousandmilestogetawayfrommeforafewdays,becauseyoucan’tthinkclearlyaround
me.It’sthesameforme,Anastasia.Myreasonvanisheswhenwe’retogether—that’sthedepthofmyfeelingfor
you.
Iunderstandyourtrepidation.Ididtrytostayawayfromyou;Iknewyouwereinexperienced,thoughIwould
neverhavepursuedyouifIhadknownexactlyhowinnocentyouwere—andyetyoustillmanagetodisarmme
completelyinawaythatnobodyhasbefore.Youre-mail,forexample:Ihavereadandrereaditcountlesstimes
tryingtounderstandyourpointofview.Threemonthsisanarbitraryamountoftime.Wecouldmakeitsix
months,ayear?Howlongdoyouwantittobe?Whatwouldmakeyoucomfortable?Tellme.
Iunderstandthatthisisahugeleapoffaithforyou.Ihavetoearnyourtrust,butbythesametoken,youhaveto
communicatewithmewhenIamfailingtodothis.Youseemsostrongandself-contained,andthenIreadwhat
you’vewrittenhere,andIseeanothersidetoyou.Wehavetoguideeachother,Anastasia,andIcanonlytake
mycuesfromyou.Youhavetobehonestwithme,andwehavetobothfindawaytomakethisarrangement
work.
Youworryaboutnotbeingsubmissive.Well,maybethat’strue.Havingsaidthat,theonlytimeyoudoassume
thecorrectdemeanorforasubisintheplayroom.Itseemsthat’stheoneplacewhereyouletmeexercise
propercontroloveryouandtheonlyplaceyoudoasyou’retold.“Exemplary”isthetermthatcomestomind.
AndI’dneverbeatyoublackandblue.Iaimforpink.Outsidetheplayroom,Ilikethatyouchallengeme.It’sa
verynovelandrefreshingexperience,andIwouldn’twanttochangethat.So,yes,tellmewhatyouwantinterms
ofmore.Iwillendeavortokeepanopenmind,andIshalltrytogiveyouthespaceyouneedandstayawayfrom
youwhileyouareinGeorgia.Ilookforwardtoyournexte-mail.
Inthemeantime,enjoyyourself.Butnottoomuch.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ipresssendandtakeasipofmycoldcoffee.Nowyouhavetowait,Grey.Seewhatshesays.IstompintothekitchentoseewhatGailhaspreparedforbreakfast.
TAYLORISWAITINGINthecartowhiskmetowork.“Whatwasityouwantedlastnight?”Iaskhim.“Itwasnothingimportant,sir.”“Good,”Irespond,andgazeoutthewindow,tryingtoputAnaandGeorgiaoutofmymind.Ifail
miserably,butanideastartstotakeshape.IcallAndrea.“Morning.”“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.”“I’monmywayin,butcanyouputmethroughtoBill?”“Yes,sir.”AfewmomentslaterIhaveBillontheline.“Mr.Grey.”“DidyourpeoplelookatGeorgiaasanoptiontositethetechplant?Savannah,inparticular?”“Ibelievewedid,sir.ButI’llneedtocheck.”“Check.Comebacktome.”“Willdo.Isthatall?”“Fornow.Thanks.”
MYDAYISFULLofmeetings.Ilookatmye-mailsporadically,butthere’snothingfromAna.Iwonderifshe’sdauntedbythetoneofmye-mail,orifshe’sbusydoingotherthings.
Whatotherthings?It’simpossibletoavoidthoughtsofher.ThroughoutthedayIexchangetextswithCarolineActon,
approvingandvetoingoutfitsshe’schosenforAna.Ihopeshelikesthem:she’lllookstunninginallofthem.
Bill has come back to me with a potential site near Savannah for our plant. Ruth is makinginquiries.
Atleastit’snotDetroit.Elenacalls,andwedecidetohavedinneratColumbiaTower.“Christian,you’rebeingsocoyaboutthisgirl,”shechides.“I’lltellyoueverythingthisevening.RightnowI’mbusy.”
“You’realwaysbusy.”Shelaughs.“Seeyouateight.”“Seeyouthen.”Whyarethewomeninmylifesonosy?Elena.Mymother.Ana…Iwonderforthehundredthtime
whatshe’sdoing.Andbehold,there’saresponsefromher,atlast.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Verbose?Date:May31201119:08EST
To:ChristianGrey
Sir,youarequitetheloquaciouswriter.IhavetogotodinneratBob’sgolfclub,andjustsoyouknow,Iam
rollingmyeyesatthethought.Butyouandyourtwitchypalmarealongwayfrommesomybehindissafe,for
now.Ilovedyoure-mail.WillrespondwhenIcan.Imissyoualready.
Enjoyyourafternoon.
YourAna
It’snota“no,”andshemissesme.I’mrelievedandamusedathertone.Irespond.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YourBehindDate:May31201116:10
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Iamdistractedbythetitleofthise-mail.Needlesstosayitissafe—fornow.
Enjoyyourdinner,andImissyou,too,especiallyyourbehindandyoursmartmouth.
Myafternoonwillbedull,brightenedonlybythoughtsofyouandyoureyerolling.Ithinkitwasyouwhoso
judiciouslypointedouttomethatI,too,sufferfromthatnastyhabit.
ChristianGreyCEO&EyeRoller,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Afewminuteslaterherreplypingsintomyinbox.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:EyeRollingDate:May31201119:14EST
To:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
Stope-mailingme.Iamtryingtogetreadyfordinner.Youareverydistracting,evenwhenyouareontheother
sideofthecontinent.Andyes—whospanksyouwhenyourollyoureyes?
YourAna
Oh,Ana,youdo.Allthetime.Irememberhertellingmetokeepstillandtuggingmypubichairwhileshewassittingastrideme,
naked.Thethoughtisarousing.
From:ChristianGreySubject:YourBehindDate:May31201116:18
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Istillprefermytitletoyours,insomanydifferentways.ItisluckythatIammasterofmyowndestinyandnoone
castigatesme.Exceptmymother,occasionally,andDr.Flynn,ofcourse.Andyou.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ifindmyselfdrummingmyfingers,waitingforherreply.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Chastising…Me?
Date:May31201119:22EST
To:ChristianGrey
DearSir,
WhenhaveIeverpluckedupthenervetochastiseyou,Mr.Grey?Ithinkyouaremixingmeupwithsomeone
else…whichisveryworrying.Ireallydohavetogetready.
YourAna
You. You chastiseme via e-mail at every opportunity—and how could I evermix you upwithanyoneelse?
From:ChristianGreySubject:YourBehindDate:May31201116:25
To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Youdoitallthetimeinprint.CanIzipupyourdress?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:NC-17Date:May31201119:28EST
To:ChristianGrey
Iwouldratheryouunzippedit.
Herwordstraveldirectlytomydick,passing“Go”ontheway.Fuck.Thiscallsfor—whatdidshecallthem?SHOUTYCAPITALS.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Carefulwhatyouwishfor…Date:May31201116:31
To:AnastasiaSteele
SOWOULDI.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:PantingDate:May31201119:33EST
To:ChristianGrey
Slowly…
From:ChristianGreySubject:GroaningDate:May31201116:35
To:AnastasiaSteele
WishIwerethere.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Moaning
Date:May31201119:37EST
To:ChristianGrey
SODOI.
Whoelsecanturnmeonviae-mail?
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Moaning
Date:May31201119:39EST
To:ChristianGrey
Gottago.
Laters,baby.
Ismirkatherwords.
From:ChristianGreySubject:PlagiarismDate:May31201116:41
To:AnastasiaSteele
Youstolemyline.
Andleftmehanging.
Enjoyyourdinner.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Andrea knocks on the door with new schematics from Barney for the solar-power tablet we’redeveloping.She’sstartledthatI’mpleasedtoseeher.“Thanks,Andrea.”
“You’remostwelcome,Mr.Grey.”Shegivesmeacurioussmile.“Wouldyoulikesomecoffee?”“Please.”“Milk?”“Nothanks.”
MY DAY HAS IMPROVED immensely. I have knocked Bastille on his ass twice in our two rounds ofkickboxing.Thatneverhappens.AsIsliponmyjacketaftermyshower,IfeelreadytofaceElenaandallherquestions.
Taylorappears.“Wouldyoulikemetodrive,sir?”“No.I’lltaketheR8.”“Verygood,sir.”BeforeIleaveIcheckmye-mail.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Whoareyoutocrythief?
Date:May31201122:18EST
To:ChristianGrey
Sir,Ithinkyou’llfinditwasElliot’slineoriginally.
Hanginghow?
YourAna
Issheflirtingwithme?Again?Andshe’smyAna.Again.
From:ChristianGreySubject:UnfinishedBusinessDate:May31201119:22
To:AnastasiaSteele
MissSteele,
You’reback.Youleftsosuddenly—justwhenthingsweregettinginteresting.
Elliot’snotveryoriginal.Hemusthavestolenthatlinefromsomeone.
Howwasdinner?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ipresssend.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:UnfinishedBusiness?Date:May31201122:26EST
To:ChristianGrey
Dinnerwasfilling—you’llbeverypleasedtohearIatefartoomuch.
Gettinginteresting?How?
I’mgladshe’seating…
From:ChristianGreySubject:UnfinishedBusiness—Definitely
Date:May31201119:30
To:AnastasiaSteele
Areyoubeingdeliberatelyobtuse?Ithinkyou’djustaskedmetounzipyourdress.
AndIwaslookingforwardtodoingjustthat.Iamalsogladtohearyouareeating.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Well…There’sAlwaystheWeekend
Date:May31201122:36EST
To:ChristianGrey
OfcourseIeat…It’sonlytheuncertaintyIfeelaroundyouthatputsmeoffmyfood.
AndIwouldneverbeunwittinglyobtuse,Mr.Grey.
Surelyyou’veworkedthatoutbynow.;)
Shelosesappetitearoundme?That’snotgood.Andshe’smakingfunofme.Again.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Can’tWait
Date:May31201119:40
To:AnastasiaSteele
Ishallrememberthat,MissSteele,andnodoubtusetheknowledgetomyadvantage.
I’msorrytohearthatIputyouoffyourfood.IthoughtIhadamoreconcupiscenteffectonyou.Thathasbeen
myexperience,andmostpleasurableithasbeen,too.
Iverymuchlookforwardtothenexttime.
ChristianGrey
CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:GymnasticLinguistics
Date:May31201122:36EST
To:ChristianGrey
Haveyoubeenplayingwiththethesaurusagain?
Ihootwithlaughter.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Rumbled
Date:May31201119:40
To:AnastasiaSteele
Youknowmesowell,MissSteele.
IamhavingdinnerwithanoldfriendnowsoIwillbedriving.
Laters,baby©.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
AsmuchasI’d liketokeepupthebanterwithAna,Idon’twant tobelate fordinner.IfIwere,Elenawouldbedispleased. Ipowerdownmycomputer, collectmywallet andphone,and take theelevatortothegarage.
THEMILEHIGHCLUB is on thepenthouse floor ofColumbiaTower.The sun is sinking toward thepeaks ofOlympicNational Park, coloring the skywith an impressive fusion of oranges, pinks, andopals.It’sstunning.Anawouldlovethisview.Ishouldbringherhere.
Elenaisseatedatacornertable.Shegivesmeasmallwaveandabigsmile.Themaîtred’escortsmetohertable,andsherises,presentinghercheektome.
“Hello,Christian,”shepurrs.“Good evening, Elena. You’re looking great, as usual.” I kiss her cheek. She tosses her sleek
platinumhairtooneside,whichshedoeswhenshe’sfeelingplayful.“Sit,”shesays.“Whatwouldyouliketodrink?”Herfingersandhertrademarkscarletfingernails
arewrappedaroundachampagneflute.“Iseeyou’vestartedontheCristal.”“Well,Ithinkwe’vegotsomethingtocelebrate,don’tyou?”
“Wedo?”“Christian.Thisgirl.Spillthebeans.”“I’ll have a glass of theMendocino sauvignon blanc,” I tell the hovering waiter. He nods and
hurriesoff.“So,notacauseforcelebration?”Elenatakesasipofherchampagne,eyebrowsraised.“Idon’tknowwhyyou’remakingsuchabigdealofthis.”“I’mnotmakingabigdeal.I’mcurious.Howoldisshe?Whatdoesshedo?”“She’sjustgraduated.”“Oh.Alittleyoungforyou?”Iarchabrow.“Really?You’regoingtogothere?”Elenalaughs.“HowisIsaac?”Iaskwithasmirk.Shelaughsagain.“Behaving.”Hereyessparklewithmischief.“Howboringforyou.”Myvoiceisdry.Shesmiles,resigned.“He’sagoodpet.Shallweorder?”
HALFWAYTHROUGHTHECRABchowderIputElenaoutofhermisery.“HernameisAnastasia,shestudiedliteratureatWSU,andImetherwhenshecametointerview
meforthestudentnewspaper.Igavethecommencementaddressthisyear.”“Issheinthelifestyle?”“Notyet.ButI’mhopeful.”“Wow.”“Yeah.She’sescapedtoGeorgiatothinkitthrough.”“That’salongwaytogo.”“I know.” I look down atmy chowder,wondering howAna is andwhat she’s doing; sleeping, I
hope…alone.WhenIraisemyheadElenaisstudyingme.Intently.“Ihaven’tseenyoulikethis,”shesays.“Whatdoyoumean?”“You’redistracted.That’snotlikeyou.”“Isitthatobvious?”Shenods,hereyessoftening.“Obvioustome.Ithinkshe’sturnedyourworldupsidedown.”Iinhalesharplybuthidethefactbyraisingmyglasstomylips.Perceptive,Mrs.Lincoln.“Youthink?”Imurmuraftermysip.“Ithink,”shesays,hereyessearchingmine.“She’sverydisarming.”“I’m sure that’s novel.And I bet you’reworrying aboutwhat she’s doing inGeorgia,what she’s
thinking.Iknowhowyouare.”
“Yes.Iwanthertomaketherightdecision.”“Youshouldgoandseeher.”“What?”“Getonaplane.”“Really?”“Ifshe’sundecided.Gouseyourconsiderablecharm.”Mysnortisderisive.“Christian,”shescolds,“whenyouwantsomethingbadlyenough,yougoafteritandyoualways
win.Youknowthat.You’resonegativeaboutyourself.Drivesmecrazy.”Isigh.“I’mnotsure.”“Thepoorgirlisprobablyboredtotearsdownthere.Go.You’llgetyouranswer.Ifit’sno,youcan
moveon,ifit’syes,youcanenjoybeingyourselfwithher.”“She’sbackFriday.”“Seizetheday,mydear.”“Shedidsayshemissedme.”“Thereyougo.”Hereyesflashwithcertainty.“I’llthinkaboutit.Morechampagne?”“Please,”shesays,andgivesmeagirlishgrin.
DRIVINGBACKTOESCALA, IcontemplateElena’sadvice.Icouldgo to seeAna.Shesaidshe’smissedme…thejet’savailable.
BackhomeIreadherlateste-mail.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:SuitableDinnerCompanions
Date:May31201123:58EST
To:ChristianGrey
Ihopeyouandyourfriendhadaverypleasantdinner.
Ana
P.S.WasitMrs.Robinson?
Shit.Thisistheperfectexcuse.Thisisgoingtoneedananswerinperson.IbuzzTaylorandtellhimI’mgoingtoneedStephanandtheGulfstreaminthemorning.“Verygood,Mr.Grey.Whereareyougoing?”“We’regoingtoSavannah.”“Yes,sir.”Andthere’sahintofamusementinhisvoice.
WEDNESDAY,JUNE1,2011
It’sbeenaninterestingmorning.WeleftBoeingFieldat11:30PST;Stephanis flyingwithhis firstofficer,JillBeighley,andwe’reduetoarriveinGeorgiaat19:30EST.
BillhasmanagedtoarrangeameetingwiththeSavannahBrownfieldRedevelopmentAuthoritytomorrow, and I might be meeting them for a drink this evening. So if Anastasia is otherwiseoccupied,ordoesn’twanttoseeme,thejourneywon’tbeacompletewasteoftime.
Yeah,yeah.Tellyourselfthat,Grey.Taylorhasjoinedmeforalightlunchandisnowsortingthroughsomepaperwork,andIhavea
wholelotofreadingtodo.TheonlypartoftheequationI’veyettosolveisarrangingtoseeAna.I’llseehowthatgoesonceI
arriveinSavannah;I’mhopingsomeinspirationwillcometomeontheflight.Irunmyhandthroughmyhair,andforthefirsttimeinalongwhileIliebackanddozeasthe
G550cruises at thirty thousand feet,bound forSavannah/HiltonHead International.Thedroneoftheenginesissoothing,andI’mtired.Sotired.
Thatwouldbethenightmares,Grey.Idon’tknowwhytheyareworseatthemoment.Iclosemyeyes.
“Thisishowyouwillbewithme.Doyouunderstand?”“Yes,Ma’am.”Sherunsascarletfingernailacrossmychest.Iflinchandpullagainsttherestraintsasthedarknesssurfaces,burningmyskininthewakeofhertouch.ButIdon’tmakeasound.Idon’tdare.“Ifyoubehave,I’llletyoucome.Inmymouth.”Fuck.“Butnotyet.We’vegotalongwaytogobeforethen.”Herfingernailblazesdownmyskin,fromthetopofmysternumtomynavel.Iwanttoscream.Shegrabsmyface,squeezingopenmymouth,andkissesme.Hertonguedemandingandwet.Shebrandishestheleatherflogger.AndIknowthiswillbetoughtoendure.ButIhavemyeyeontheprize.Herfuckingmouth.Asthefirstlashfallsandblistersacrossmyskin,Iwelcomethepainandtheendorphinrush.
“Mr.Grey,we’llbelandingintwentyminutes,”Taylorinformsme,startlingmeawake.“Areyouokay,sir?”
“Yeah.Sure.Thanks.”“Wouldyoulikesomewater?”“Please.”I takeadeepbreathtobringmyheart ratedown,andTaylorpassesmeaglassofcold
Evian.Itakeawelcomesip,gladthatit’sjustTayloronboard.It’snotoftenIdreamaboutmyheadydayswithMrs.Lincoln.
Outofthewindowtheskyisblue,thesparsecloudspinkingwiththeearly-eveningsun.Thelightup here is brilliant. Golden. Tranquil. The sinking sun reflecting off the cumulus clouds. For amomentIwishIwereinmysailplane.Ibetthethermalsarefantasticuphere.
Yes!That’swhatIshoulddo:takeAnasoaring.Thatwouldbemore,wouldn’tit?“Taylor.”“Yes,sir.”“I’dliketotakeAnastasiasoaringinGeorgia—atdawntomorrow,ifwecanfindsomewheretodo
that.Butlaterwouldbefine,too.”Ifit’slaterI’llhavetomovemymeeting.“I’llgetonit.”“Nevermindthecost.”“Okay,sir.”“Thanks.”NowIjusthavetotellAna.
THEREARETWOCARSwaitingforuswhentheG550comestoahaltonthetarmacneartheSignatureFlightSupportterminalattheairport.TaylorandIstepoutoftheplaneandintothesuffocatingheat.
Hell,it’ssticky,evenatthistime.TherephandsthekeysforbothcarstoTaylor.Iraiseabrowathim.“FordMustang?”“It’sallIcouldfindinSavannahatshortnotice.”Taylorlookssheepish.“Atleastit’saredconvertible.ThoughinthisheatIhopeithasAC.”“Itshouldhaveeverything,sir.”“Good.Thanks.”Itakethekeysfromhimand,grabbingmymessengerbag,leavehimtounload
therestoftheluggagefromtheplaneintohisSuburban.IshakehandswithStephanandBeighleyandthankthemforasmoothflight.IntheMustang,I
cruiseoutoftheairportandonwardtodowntownSavannah,listeningtoBruceonmyiPodthroughthecarsoundsystem.
ANDREAHASBOOKEDMEintoasuiteattheBohemianHotel,whichlooksoutovertheSavannahRiver.It’sduskandtheviewfromthebalconyisimpressive:theriverisluminous,reflectingthegraduated
colorsoftheskyandthelightsonthesuspensionbridgeandthedocks.Theskyisincandescent,thecolorsshadedfromdeeppurpletoarosypink.
It’salmostasstrikingastwilightovertheSound.But I don’t have time to stand here and admire the view. I set up my laptop, crank the air-
conditioningtofullblast,andcallRosforanupdate.“WhythesuddeninterestinGeorgia,Christian?”“It’spersonal.”Shehuffsdownthephone.“Sincewhenhaveyouletyourpersonallifeinterferewithbusiness?”SinceImetAnastasiaSteele.“Idon’tlikeDetroit,”Isnap.“Okay.”Shebacksoff.“ImightmeettheSavannahBrownfieldliaisonforadrinklater,”Iadd,attemptingtoplacateher.“Whatever,Christian.Thereareafewotherthingsweneedtotalkabout.Theaidhasarrivedin
Rotterdam.Doyoustillwanttogoahead?”“Yes.Let’sget itdone. Imadeacommitmentat theEndGlobalHunger launch.Thisneeds to
happenbeforeIcanfacethatcommitteeagain.”“Okay.Anyfurtherthoughtsonthepublishingacquisition?”“I’mstillundecided.”“IthinkSIPhassomepotential.”“Yeah.Maybe.Letmethinkaboutitforawhilelonger.”“I’mseeingMarcotodiscusstheLucasWoodssituation.”“Okay,letmeknowhowthatgoes.Callmelater.”“Willdo.Byefornow.”I’mavoidingtheinevitable.Iknowthis.ButIdecideitwouldbebettertotackleMissSteele—via
e-mailorphone, I’veyet todecidewhich—ona full stomach, so Iorderdinner.While I’mwaitingthere’sa text fromAndrealettingmeknowmydrinksappointmentisoff.I’mfinewiththat.I’llseethemtomorrowmorning,providedI’mnotsoaringwithAna.
Beforeroomservicearrives,Taylorcalls.“Mr.Grey.”“Taylor.Areyoucheckedin?”“Yes,sir.Yourluggagewillbeonitswayupinamoment.”“Great.”“TheBrunswickSoaringAssociationhasagliderfree.I’veaskedAndreatofaxthroughyourflying
credentialstothem.Oncethepaperwork’ssigned,we’regoodtogo.”“Great.”“They’lldoanytimefromsixa.m.”“Evenbetter.Havethemreadyfromthen.Sendmetheaddress.”“Willdo.”
There’saknockonthedoor—myluggageandroomservicehavearrivedsimultaneously.Thefoodsmellsdelicious:friedgreentomatoesandshrimpandgrits.Well,I’mintheSouth.
While I eat I contemplatemy strategywithAna. I couldpay a visit tohermom’s tomorrow atbreakfast.Bringbagels.Thentakehersoaring.That’sprobablythebestplan.Shehasn’tbeenintouchallday,soIguessshe’smad.IrereadherlastmessageonceI’vefinisheddinner.
WhatthehellhasshegotagainstElena?Sheknowsnothingaboutourrelationship.Whatwehadhappenedalongtimeagoandnowwe’rejustfriends.WhatrightdoesAnahavetobemad?
Andifitwasn’tforElena,Godknowswhatwouldhavehappenedtome.There’saknockonthedoor.It’sTaylor.“Goodevening,sir.Happywithyourroom?”“Yes,it’sfine.”“IhavethepaperworkfortheBrunswickSoaringAssociationhere.”I scan the hire agreement. It looks fine. I sign it and give it back to him. “I’ll drive myself
tomorrow.I’llseeyouthere?”“Yes,sir.I’llbetherefromsix.”“I’llletyouknowifanythingchanges.”“ShallIunpackforyou,sir?”“Please.Thanks.”Henodsandtakesmysuitcaseintothebedroom.I’mrestless,andIneedtogetwhatI’mgoingtosaytoAnaclearinmymind.Iglanceatmywatch;
it’stwentypastnine.I’veleftthisreallylate.PerhapsIshouldhaveaquickdrinkfirst.IleaveTaylortounpackanddecidetocheckoutthehotelbarbeforeIspeaktoRosagainandwritetoAna.
Therooftopbariscrowded,butIfindaseatattheendofthecounterandorderabeer.It’sahip,contemporaryplace,withmoodylightingandarelaxedvibe.Iscanthebar,avoidingeyecontactwiththetwowomensittingnexttome…andamovementcapturesmyattention:afrustratedflipofglossymahoganyhairthatcatchesandrefractsthelight.
It’sAna.Fuck.She’s facing away from me, seated opposite a woman who could only be her mother. The
resemblanceisstriking.Whatarethefuckingodds?Inalltheginjoints…Jesus.Iwatch them, transfixed.They’re drinking cocktails—Cosmopolitans, by the look of them.Her
motherisstunning:likeAna,butolder;shelookslatethirties,withlong,darkhair,andeyesthatareAna’s shade of blue. Shehas a bohemian vibe about her…not someone I’d automatically associatewith the golf club set. Perhaps she’s dressed that way because she’s out with her young, beautifuldaughter.
Thisispriceless.Seizetheday,Grey.Ifishmyphoneoutofmyjeanspocket.It’stimetoe-mailAna.Thisshouldbeinteresting.I’lltest
hermood…andIgettowatch.
From:ChristianGreySubject:DinnerCompanions
Date:June1201121:40ESTTo:AnastasiaSteele
Yes,IhaddinnerwithMrs.Robinson.Sheisjustanoldfriend,Anastasia.
Lookingforwardtoseeingyouagain.Imissyou.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Hermotherlooksearnest;maybeshe’sconcernedforherdaughter,ormaybeshe’stryingtoextractinformationfromher.
Goodluck,Mrs.Adams.AndforamomentIwonderifthey’rediscussingme.Hermotherstands;itlookslikeshe’svisiting
therestroom.AnachecksherpurseandpullsoutherBlackBerry.Herewego…Shebeginstoread,hershouldershunchedover,her fingers flexinganddrummingonthetable.
Shestartstappingfuriouslyatthekeys.Ican’tseeherface,whichisfrustrating,butIdon’tthinkshe’simpressedwithwhat she’s just read.Amoment later she abandons thephoneon the table inwhatappearstobedisgust.
That’snotgood.Hermotherreturnsandsignalsoneofthewaitersforanotherroundofdrinks.Iwonderhowmany
they’vehad.Icheckmyphone,andsureenough,there’saresponse.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:OLDDinnerCompanions
Date:June1201121:42ESTTo:ChristianGrey
She’snotjustanoldfriend.
Hasshefoundanotheradolescentboytosinkherteethinto?
Didyougettoooldforher?
Isthatthereasonyourrelationshipfinished?
Whatthehell?MytempersimmersasIread.
Isaacisinhislatetwenties.Likeme.Howdareshe?Isitthedrinktalking?Timetodeclareyourself,Grey.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Careful…Date:June1201121:45ESTTo:AnastasiaSteele
ThisisnotsomethingIwishtodiscussviae-mail.
HowmanyCosmopolitansareyougoingtodrink?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Shestudiesherphone,sitsupsuddenly,andlooksaroundtheroom.Showtime,Grey.Ideposittenbucksonthecounterandsaunterovertothem.Oureyesmeet.Sheblanches—shocked,Ithink—andIdon’tknowhowshe’llgreetme,orhowI’ll
containmytemperifshesaysanythingelseaboutElena.Shetucksherhairbehindherearswithrestless fingers.Asuresignthatshe’snervous.“Hi,”she
says,hervoicestrainedandhigh-pitched.“Hi.”Ileandownandkisshercheek.Shesmellsamazing,evenifshedoestenseasmylipsbrush
herskin.Shelookslovely;she’scaughtsomesun,andshe’snotwearingabra.Herbreastsarestrainingagainstthesilkymaterialofhertop,buthiddenbyherlonghair.
Formyeyesonly,Ihope.Andeventhoughshe’smad,I’mgladtoseeher.I’vemissedher.“Christian,thisismymother,Carla.”Anagesturestohermom.“Mrs.Adams,Iamdelightedtomeetyou.”Hermom’seyesarealloverme.Shit!She’scheckingmeout.Bestignoreit,Grey.Afteralonger-than-necessarypause,shereachesouttoshakemyhand.“Christian.”“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Anaasks,hertoneaccusatory.“Icametoseeyou,ofcourse.I’mstayinginthishotel.”“You’restayinghere?”shesqueaks.Yes.Ican’tquitebelieveit,either.“Well,yesterdayyousaidyouwishedIwashere.”I’mtryingto
gaugeherreaction.Sofarthere’sbeen:nervousfidgeting,tensing,anaccusatorytone,andastrained
voice.Thisisnotgoingwell.“Weaimtoplease,MissSteele,”Iadd,deadpan,hopingtoputherinagoodmood.
“Won’tyoujoinusforadrink,Christian?”Mrs.Adamssaysgraciously,andcatchestheeyeofthewaiter.
Ineedsomethingstrongerthanbeer.“I’llhaveaginandtonic,”I tell thewaiter.“Hendrick’s, ifyouhaveit,orBombaySapphire.CucumberwiththeHendrick’s,limewiththeBombay.”
“AndtwomoreCosmos,please,”Anaadds,withananxiouslookatme.She’srighttobeanxious.Ithinkshe’shadenoughtodrinkalready.“Pleasepullupachair,Christian.”“Thankyou,Mrs.Adams.”Idoassheasks,andsitdownbesideAna.“Soyoujusthappentobestayinginthehotelwherewe’redrinking?”Ana’stoneistense.“OryoujusthappentobedrinkinginthehotelwhereI’mstaying.Ijustfinisheddinner,camein
here,andsawyou.Iwasdistracted,thinkingaboutyourmostrecente-mail”—Igiveherapointedlook—“andIglanceupandthereyouare.Quiteacoincidence,eh?”
Ana looks flustered. “My mother and I were shopping this morning and on the beach thisafternoon.We decided on a few cocktails this evening,” she says hurriedly, as if she has to justifydrinkinginabarwithhermother.
“Didyoubuythattop?”Iask.Shereallydoeslookstunning.Hercamisoleisemeraldgreen;I’vemadetherightchoices—gemcolors—fortheclothesCarolineActonhasselectedforher.“Thecolorsuits you.And you’ve caught some sun. You look lovely.”Her cheeks color andher lips lift atmycompliment. “Well, I was going to pay you a visit tomorrow. But here you are.” I take her hand,because I want to touch her, and I give it a gentle squeeze. Slowly I caress her knuckles withmythumb,andherbreathingalters.
Yes,Ana.Feelit.Don’tbemadatme.Hereyesmeetmine,andI’mrewardedwithhercoysmile.“IthoughtI’dsurpriseyou.Butasever,Anastasia,yousurprisemebybeinghere.Idon’twantto
interruptthetimeyouhavewithyourmother.I’llhaveaquickdrinkandthenretire.Ihaveworktodo.”Iresistkissingherknuckles.Idon’tknowwhatshe’ssaidtohermotheraboutus,ifanything.
“Christian, it’s lovelytomeetyoufinally.Anahasspokenveryfondlyofyou,”Mrs.Adamssays,withacharmingsmile.
“Really?”IglanceatAna,who’sblushing.Fondly,eh?Thisisgoodnews.Thewaiterplacesmyginandtonicinfrontofme.“Hendrick’s,sir.”“Thankyou.”HeservesAnaandhermotherfreshCosmopolitans.
“HowlongareyouinGeorgia,Christian?”hermomasks.“UntilFriday,Mrs.Adams.”“Willyouhavedinnerwithustomorrowevening?Andplease,callmeCarla.”“I’dbedelightedto,Carla.”“Excellent,”shesays.“Ifyoutwowillexcuseme,Ineedtovisittherestroom.”Hasn’tshejustbeentotherestroom?Istandassheleaves, thensitdownagainto facethewrathofMissSteele.I takeherhandonce
more.“So,you’remadatmeforhavingdinnerwithanoldfriend.”Ikisseachknuckle.“Yes.”She’scurt.Isshejealous?“Oursexualrelationshipwasoverlongago,Anastasia.Idon’twantanyonebutyou.Haven’tyou
workedthatoutyet?”“Ithinkofherasachildmolester,Christian.”My scalp tingles in shock. “That’s very judgmental. It wasn’t like that.” I release her hand in
frustration.“Oh,howwasit,then?”shesnaps,stickingoutherstubbornlittlechin.Isthisthedrinktalking?Shecontinues,“Shetookadvantageofavulnerablefifteen-year-oldboy.Ifyouhadbeenafifteen-
year-oldgirlandMrs.RobinsonwasaMr.Robinson,temptingyouintoaBDSMlifestyle,thatwouldhavebeenokay?IfitwasMia,say?”
Oh,nowshe’sbeingridiculous.“Ana,itwasn’tlikethat.”Hereyesflash.She’sreallyangry.Why?Thishasnothingtodowithher.ButIdon’twantafull-
blownargumenthereinthebar.Imoderatemyvoice.“Okay,itdidn’tfeellikethattome.Shewasaforce forgood.What Ineeded.”GoodGod, I’dprobablybedeadbynow if itwasn’t forElena. I’mstrugglingtocontrolmytemper.
Herbrowfurrows.“Idon’tunderstand.”Shutherdown,Grey.“Anastasia,yourmotherwillbeback shortly. I’mnotcomfortable talkingabout thisnow.Later,
maybe.Ifyoudon’twantmehere,IhaveaplaneonstandbyatHiltonHead.Icango.”Her expression changes to panic. “No—don’t go. Please. I’m thrilled you’re here,” she adds
quickly.Thrilled?Youcouldhavefooledme.“I’mjusttryingtomakeyouunderstand,”shesays.“I’mangrythatassoonasIleft,youhaddinner
withher.ThinkabouthowyouarewhenIgetanywherenearJosé.Joséisagoodfriend.Ihaveneverhadasexualrelationshipwithhim.Whereasyouandher—”
“You’rejealous?”HowcanImakeherrealizethatElenaandIarefriends?Shehasnothingtobejealousabout.Clearly,MissSteeleispossessive.AndittakesmeamomenttorealizethatIlikethat.
“Yes,andangryaboutwhatshedidtoyou,”shecontinues.“Anastasia,shehelpedme.That’sallI’llsayaboutthat.Andasforyourjealousy,putyourselfin
myshoes.Ihaven’thadtojustifymyactionstoanyoneinthelastsevenyears.Notoneperson.IdoasIwish,Anastasia.Ilikemyautonomy.Ididn’tgoandseeMrs.Robinsontoupsetyou.Iwentbecauseeverynowandthenwehavedinner.She’safriendandabusinesspartner.”
Hereyeswiden.Oh.Didn’tImentionthat?WhywouldImentionthat?It’snothingtodowithher.“Yes,we’rebusinesspartners.Thesexisoverbetweenus.Ithasbeenforyears.”“Whydidyourrelationshipend?”“Herhusbandfoundout.Canwetalkaboutthissomeothertime—somewheremoreprivate?”“Idon’tthinkyou’lleverconvincemethatshe’snotsomekindofpedophile.”Fuckinghell,Ana!Enoughisenough!“Idon’tthinkofherthatway.Ineverhave.Nowthat’senough!”Igrowl.“Didyouloveher?”What?“Howareyoutwogettingon?”Carlaisback.Anaforcesasmilethatmakesmystomachchurn.“Fine,Mom.”DidIloveElena?Itakeasipofmydrink.Ifuckingworshippedher…butdidIloveher?Whataridiculousquestion.
I know nothing about romantic love. That’s the hearts-and-flowers shit shewants. The nineteenth-centurynovelsshe’sreadhavefilledherheadwithnonsense.
I’vehadenough.“Well,ladies,Ishallleaveyoutoyourevening.Please,putthesedrinksonmytab,roomnumber
612.I’llcallyouinthemorning,Anastasia.Untiltomorrow,Carla.”“Oh,it’ssonicetohearsomeoneuseyourfullname.”“Beautifulnameforabeautifulgirl.”IshakeCarla’shand,sincereaboutthecomplimentbutnot
thesmileonmyface.Anaisquiet,imploringmewithalookthatIignore.Ikisshercheek.“Laters,baby,”Imurmurin
herear,thenturnandwalkthroughthebarandbackdowntomyroom.Thatgirlprovokesmelikenoonehasbefore.Andshe’spissedatme;maybeshehasPMS.Shesaidherperiodwasduethisweek.Iburst intomyroom,slamthedoor,andheadstraight for thebalcony.It’swarmoutside,andI
takeadeepbreath,inhalingthepungentsaltyscentoftheriver.Nighthasfallen,andtheriverisinkyblack,likethesky…likemymood.Ididn’tevengettodiscussglidingtomorrow.Irestmyhandsonthebalconyrail.Thelightsontheshoreandthebridgeimprovetheview…butnotmytemperament.
WhyamIdefendingarelationshipthatbeganwhenAnawasstillinfourthgrade?It’snoneofherbusiness.Yes,itwasunconventional.Butthat’sall.
Irunbothhandsthroughmyhair.Thistripisn’tworkingouthowIexpected,atall.Perhapsitwas
amistaketocomedownhere.AndtothinkitwasElenawhoencouragedmetomakethetrip.Myphonebuzzes,andIhopeit’sAna.It’sRos.“Yes,”Isnap.“Jeez,Christian.AmIinterruptingsomething?”“No.Sorry.What’sup?”Calmdown,Grey.“IthoughtI’dupdateyouonmyconversationwithMarco.Butifnowisabadtime,I’llcallback
inthemorning.”“No,it’sfine.”There’s a knock on the door. “Hang on, Ros.” I open it, expecting Taylor or someone from
housekeepingtodoturndown—butit’sAna,standinginthecorridor,lookingbashfulandbeautiful.She’shere.Openingthedoorwider,Imotionherin.“Alltheredundancypackagesconcluded?”IaskRos,withouttakingmyeyesoffAna.“Yes.”Ana walks into the room, watching me warily, her lips parted and moist, her eyes darkening.
What’s this?A change of heart? I know that look. It’s desire. She wantsme. And I want her, too,especiallyafterourspatinthebar.
Whyelsewouldshebehere?“Andthecost?”IquestionRos.“Nearlytwomillion.”Iwhistlethroughmyteeth.“Thatwasoneexpensivemistake.”“GEHgetstoexploitthefiber-opticdivision.”She’sright.Thiswasoneofourgoals.“AndLucas?”Iask.“Hereactedbadly.”IopentheminibarandgesturetoAnatohelpherself.Leavingherthere,Istrollintothebedroom.“Whatdidhedo?”“Hethrewafit.”InthebathroomIturnonthefaucettorunwaterintothehugesunkenmarblebathandaddsome
scentedbathoil.There’sroomforsixpeopleinhere.“Themajorityofthatmoneyisforhim,”IremindRosasIcheckthewatertemperature.“Andhe
hasthebuyoutpriceforthecompany.Hecanalwaysstartagain.”I turn to leave, but as an afterthought I decide to light the various candles that are artfully
arrangedonthestonebench.Litcandlescountas“more,”don’tthey?“Well,he’sthreateninglawyers,thoughIdon’tunderstandwhy.We’rebulletproofonthis.Isthat
waterIhear?”Rosasks.“Yeah,I’mrunningabath.”“Oh?Doyouwantmetogo?”“No.Anythingelse?”
“Yes,Fredwantstotalktoyou.”“Really?”“He’sgoneoverBarney’snewdesign.”AsIwanderbackintothelivingroom,IacknowledgeBarney’sdesignsolutionforthetabletand
askhertohaveAndreasendmetherevisedschematics.Anahasretrievedabottleoforangejuice.“Is this yournewmanagement style:notbeinghere?”Rosasks. I laughout loud,butmainlyat
Ana’schoiceofbeverage.Wisewoman.AndItellRosthatIwon’tbebackintheofficeuntilFriday.“AreyouseriouslygoingtochangeyourmindaboutDetroit?”“There’saplotoflandherethatI’minterestedin.”“IsBillawareofthis?”Rosissnippy.“Yeah,getBilltocall.”“Willdo.DidyougetadrinkwiththeSavannahpeoplethisevening?”ItellherthatI’llbeseeingthemtomorrow.I’mmoreconciliatoryandmindfulofmytone,asthis
isahotbutton forRos.“Iwant to seewhatGeorgiawilloffer ifwemove in.” I takeaglassoff theshelf,handittoAna,andpointtotheicebucket.
“Iftheirincentivesareattractiveenough,”Icontinue,“Ithinkweshouldconsiderit,thoughI’mnotsureaboutthedamnedheathere.”
Anapoursherdrink.“It’s late tobechanging yourmindon this,Christian.But itmight giveus some leveragewith
Detroit,”Rosmuses.“Iagree,Detroithasitsadvantages,too,andit’scooler.”Buttherearetoomanyghoststhereforme.“GetBilltocall.Tomorrow.”It’slatenowandIhaveavisitor.“Nottooearly,”Iwarn.Rossays
goodnightandIhangup.AnaeyesmewithreserveasIdrinkherin.Herlushhairfallsoversmallshoulders,framingher
lovely,pensiveface.“Youdidn’tanswermyquestion,”shemurmurs.“No.Ididn’t.”“No,youdidn’tanswermyquestion,orno,youdidn’tloveher?”She’snot going to let this go. I leanagainst thewall and foldmyarms so Idon’t pullher into
them.“Whatareyoudoinghere,Anastasia?”“I’vejusttoldyou.”Putheroutofhermisery,Grey.“No.Ididn’tloveher.”Hershouldersrelaxandherfacesoftens.It’swhatshewantedtohear.“You’requitethegreen-eyedgoddess,Anastasia.Whowouldhavethought?”Butareyoumygreen-eyedgoddess?“Areyoumakingfunofme,Mr.Grey?”“Iwouldn’tdare,”Iretort.
“Oh,I thinkyouwould,andI thinkyoudo—often.”Shesmirksandsinksperfect teethintoherlip.
She’sdoingthatonpurpose.“Pleasestopbitingyourlip.You’reinmyroom,Ihaven’tseteyesonyoufornearlythreedays,and
I’veflownalongwaytoseeyou.”Ineedtoknowthatwe’reokay,theonlywayIknowhow.Iwanttofuckher,hard.
Myphonebuzzes,butIswitchitoffwithoutcheckingthecaller.Whoeveritiscanwait.Isteptowardher.“Iwantyou,Anastasia.Now.Andyouwantme.That’swhyyou’rehere.”“Ireallydidwanttoknow,”shesays.“Well,nowthatyoudo,areyoucomingorgoing?”Iask,standinginfrontofher.“Coming,”shesays,hereyesonmine.“Oh,Ihopeso.”Istaredownather,marvelingasheririsesdarken.Shewantsme.“Youweresomadatme,”Iwhisper.It’sstillnovel,dealingwithheranger,takingherfeelingsintoaccount.“Yes.”“Idon’trememberanyonebutmyfamilyeverbeingmadatme.Ilikeit.”GentlyItouchherface
withthetipsofmyfingersandrunthemdowntoherchin.Shecloseshereyesandangleshercheektomytouch.Leaningdown,Irunmynosealonghernakedshoulder,uptoherear,inhalinghersweetscentasdesirefloodsmybody.Myfingersmovetohernapeandintoherhair.
“Weshouldtalk,”shewhispers.“Later.”“There’ssomuchIwanttosay.”“Me, too.” Ikiss the spotbeneathherearand tugherhair,pullingbackherhead toexposeher
throat.Myteethandlipsgrazeherchinanddownherneckasmybodyhumswithneed.“Iwantyou,”Iwhisper,asIkissthespotwhereherpulsebeatsbeneathherskin.Shemoansandholdsmyarms.Itenseforamoment,butthedarknessstaysdormant.
“Areyoubleeding?”Iaskbetweenkisses.Shestills.“Yes,”shesays.“Doyouhavecramps?”“No.”Hervoiceisquietyetvehementwithembarrassment.Istopkissingherandlookdownintohereyes.Whyissheembarrassed?It’sherbody.“Didyou
takeyourpill?”“Yes,”sheanswers.Good.“Let’sgohaveabath.”Intheover-the-topbathroomIreleaseAna’shand.Theatmosphereishotandhumid,steamgently
risingabovethefoam.InthisheatI’moverdressed,mylinenshirtandjeansstickingtomyskin.Anawatchesme,herskindewyfromthehumidity.“Doyouhaveahairtie?”Iask.Herhairwillstartclingingtoherface.Shepullsoutahairelastic
fromherjeanspocket.“Putyourhairup,”Itellher,andwatchasshefollowsmycommandwithquick,efficientgrace.Goodgirl.Nomorearguing.Afewstrandsescapefromherponytail,butshelookslovely.Iturnoffthefaucetand,takingher
hand,guideherintotheotherpartofthebathroom,wherealargegildedmirrorhangsovertwosinkssetinmarble.Myeyesonhersinthemirror,Istandbehindherandaskhertotakeoffhersandals.Hastilysheremovesthemandletsthemdroptothefloor.
“Liftupyourarms,”Iwhisper.Graspingthehemofherprettytop,Ipeelitoffandoverherhead,freeingherbreasts.Reachingaround,Iundothetopbuttonandthezipperofherjeans.
“I’mgoingtohaveyouinthebathroom,Anastasia.”Hereyesstraytomymouthandshelicksherlips.Underthesoftlightherpupilsgleamwithexcitement.Bendingdown,Idroptenderkissesonherneck,hookmythumbsintothewaistbandofherjeans,andslowlypeelthemdownoverherfineass,catchingherpantiesinmyhandsonthewaydown.Kneelingbehindher,Ieasethemdownherlegs,toher feet. “Stepout of your jeans,” I order.Grabbing the edgeof the sink, sheobliges;now she’snakedandI’mface-to-facewithherass.Ipopherjeans,panties,andtopontoawhitestoolbeneaththesinkandcontemplateallthethingsIcoulddotothatass.Inoticeabluestringbetweenherlegs;hertamponisstillinplace,soIsettleforkissingandnippingherbehindgentlybeforestandingup.OureyesconnectinthemirroroncemoreandIsplaymyhandoutoverhersmooth,flatbelly.
“Lookatyou.Youaresobeautiful.Seehowyoufeel.”HerbreathingquickensasItakebothherhandsinmineandspreadherfingersonherbellybeneathmyoutstretchedhands.
“Feel how soft your skin is,” I whisper. Gently I guide her hands across her torso in a widesweepingcircle,thentravelthemuptoherbreasts.
“Feel how full your breasts are.” I hold her hands beneath her breasts so she’s cupping them.GentlyIteasehernippleswithmythumbs.Shemoansandbowsherback,pressingherbreastsintoour conjoined hands. Trapping her nipples between her thumbs andmine, I tug gently again andagain,andtakepleasurewatchingthemhardenandlengtheninresponse.
Likeacertainpartofmyanatomy.Shecloseshereyesandwrigglesagainstme,brushingherbehindovermyerection.Shemoans,
herheadagainstmyshoulder.“That’s right, baby,” I murmur against her neck, enjoying her body coming alive beneath her
touch. I guideherhandsdownher front toherhips, then in towardherpubichair. I pushmy legbetweenhersandwithmyfootwidenherstanceasIguideherhandsoverhervulva,onehandatatime,overandover,pressingherfingersoverherclitorisagainandagain.
ShegroansandIwatchherwritheagainstmeinthemirror.Lord,she’sagoddess.“Lookatyouglow,Anastasia.”Ikissandnipherneckandhershoulder,thenIletgo,leavingher
hanging,andsheopenshereyesasIstepback.“Carryon,”Itellher,wonderingwhatshe’lldo.Shefaltersforamoment,thenrubsherselfwithonehand,butnotnearlyasenthusiastically.Oh,thiswillneverdo.
QuicklyIstripoffmystickyshirt,jeans,andunderwear,freeingmyerection.“You’dratherIdothis?”Iask,hereyesblazingatmineinthemirror.“Ohyes,please,”shesays,adesperate,needyedgetohervoice.Iwrapmyarmsaroundher,my
frontagainstherback,mycockrestinginthecleftofherfine,fineass.Itakeherhandsinmineoncemore,guidingthemoverherclitoris,oneatatime,againandagain,pressing,stroking,andarousingher.ShewhimpersasIsuckandnipathernape.Herlegsbegintotremble.AbruptlyIspinheraroundsoshe’sfacingme.Igraspherwristsinoneofmyhands,holdingthembehindherback,whileItugonherponytailwiththeother,bringingherlipsuptomine.Ikissher,consuminghermouth,revelinginthetasteofher:orangejuiceandsweet,sweetAna.Herbreathingisharsh,likemine.
“Whendidyoustartyourperiod,Anastasia?”Iwanttofuckyouwithoutacondom.“Yesterday,”shebreathes.“Good.”Istepbackandspinheraround.“Holdontothesink,”Icommand.Graspingherhips,I
liftherandpullherbackwardsoshe’sbentover.Myhandglidesdownherasstothebluestring,andItugoutthetampon,whichItossinthetoilet.Shegasps,shocked,Ithink,butIgrabmycockandslideintoherquickly.
Mybreathwhistlesbetweenmyteeth.Fuck.Shefeelsgood.Sogood.Skinagainstskin.Iedgeback, then sink intoheroncemore, slowly, feelingeveryprecious, slick inchofher.She
groansandpushesagainstme.Ohyes,Ana.ShetightenshergriponthemarbleasIpickupspeed,andIgraspherhips,building…building,
thenhammeringintoher.Claimingher.Possessingher.Don’tbejealous,Ana.Iwantonlyyou.You.You.MyfingersfindherclitorisandIteaseher,caressher,andstimulatehersothatherlegsbeginto
tremble once more. “That’s right, baby,” I murmur, my voice hoarse as I pound into her with apunishingI-own-yourhythm.
Don’targuewithme.Don’tfightwithme.Her legs stiffen as I grind intoher andherbody starts toquiver. Suddenly she cries out asher
orgasmseizesher,takingmewithher.“Oh,Ana,”IbreatheasIletgo,theworldblurring,andIcomeinsideher.Fuck.“Oh,baby,willIevergetenoughofyou?”IwhisperasIsinkontoher.SlowlyIdescendtothefloor,bringingherwithmeandwrappingmyarmsaroundher.Shesits,
herheadagainstmyshoulder,stillpanting.SweetLord.Wasiteverlikethis?
Ikissherhairandshecalms,hereyesclosed,herbreathingslowlyreturningtonormalasIholdher.We’rebothsweatyandhotinahumidbathroom,butIdon’twanttobeanywhereelse.
Sheshifts.“I’mbleeding,”shesays.“Doesn’tbotherme.”Idon’twanttolethergo.“Inoticed.”Hertoneisdry.“Doesitbotheryou?”It shouldn’t. It’snatural. I’veknownonlyonewomanwhowas squeamish
aboutperiodsex,butIwouldn’ttakeanyofthatcrapfromher.“No,notatall.”Anapeersupatmewithclearblueeyes.“Good.Let’shaveabath.”Ifreeherandherbrowsknitforamomentwhileshestaresatmychest.
Herrosyfacelosessomeofitscolor,andcloudedeyesmeetmine.“Whatisit?”Iask,alarmedbyherexpression.“Yourscars.They’renotfromchickenpox.”“No,they’renot.”Mytoneisarctic.Idonotwanttotalkaboutthis.Standing,Iholdmyhandouttoherandpullhertoherfeet.Hereyesarewidewithhorror.It’llbepitynext.“Don’tlookatmelikethat,”Iwarn,andreleaseherhand.Idon’twantyourfuckingpity,Ana.Don’tgothere.Shestudiesherhand,suitablychastened,Ihope.“Didshedothat?”Hervoiceisalmostinaudible.Iscowlather,sayingnothing,asItrytocontainmysuddenrage.Mysilencecompelshertolook
atme.“She?”Isnarl.“Mrs.Robinson?”Anapalesatmytone.“She’snotananimal,Anastasia.Ofcourseshedidn’t.Idon’tunderstandwhyyoufeelyouhaveto
demonizeher.”Shebowsherheadtoavoideyecontact,walksbrisklypastme,andstepsintothebath,sinkinginto
thefoamsoIcannolongerseeherbody.Lookingupatme,herfacecontriteandopen,shesays,“Ijustwonderwhatyouwouldbelikeifyouhadn’tmether.Ifshehadn’tintroducedyoutoyour,um,lifestyle.”
Damnit.We’rebacktoElena.I stalk toward the tub, slip into thewater,andsiton theunderwater shelfoutofher reach.She
watchesme,waiting for an answer.The silencebetweenus swells until all I canhear is thebloodpumpingthroughmyears.
Fuck.Shedoesn’ttakehereyesoffmine.Standdown,Ana!Nope.It’snotgoingtohappen.Ishakemyhead.Impossiblewoman.
“Iwouldprobablyhavegonethewayofmybirthmother,haditnotbeenforMrs.Robinson.”Shetucksadamptendrilbehindherear,stayingquiet.Whatcan I sayaboutElena? I thinkaboutour relationship:Elenaandme.Thoseheadyyears.
The secrecy.The furtive couplings.Thepain.Thepleasure.The release…Theorder andcalm shebroughttomyworld.“ShelovedmeinawayIfound…acceptable,”Imuse,almosttomyself.
“Acceptable?”Anasaysindisbelief.“Yes.”Ana’sexpressionisexpectant.Shewantsmore.Shit.“ShedistractedmefromthedestructivepathIfoundmyselffollowing.”Myvoiceislow.“It’svery
hardtogrowupinaperfectfamilywhenyou’renotperfect.”Sheinhalessharply.Hell.Ihatetalkingaboutthis.“Doesshestillloveyou?”No! “Idon’t think so,not like that. I keep tellingyou, itwasa long timeago. It’s in thepast. I
couldn’tchangeitevenifIwantedto,whichIdon’t.Shesavedmefrommyself.I’veneverdiscussedthiswithanyone.
“ExceptDr.Flynn,ofcourse.AndtheonlyreasonI’mtalkingaboutthisnow,toyou,isbecauseIwantyoutotrustme.”
“Idotrustyou,”shesays,“butIdowanttoknowyoubetter,andwheneverItrytotalktoyou,youdistractme.There’ssomuchIwanttoknow.”
“Oh,forpity’ssake,Anastasia.Whatdoyouwanttoknow?WhatdoIhavetodo?”Shestaresatherhandsunderthesurfaceofthewater.“I’mjusttryingtounderstand;you’resuch
anenigma.UnlikeanyoneI’vemetbefore.I’mgladyou’retellingmewhatIwanttoknow.”Abruptlyfilledwithresolve,shemovesthroughthewatertositbesideme,leaningagainstmeso
myskinstickstohers.“Pleasedon’tbeangrywithme,”shesays.“Iamnotangrywithyou,Anastasia.I’mjustnotusedtothiskindoftalking—thisprobing.Ionly
havethiswithDr.Flynnandwith—”Damn.“Withher?Mrs.Robinson?Youtalktoher,”shesays,hervoicebreathyandquiet.“Yes,Ido.”“Whatabout?”I turn to faceher so suddenly thatwater sloshesoutof thebathandonto the floor. “Persistent,
aren’t you? Life, the universe—business. Anastasia, Mrs. R and I go way back. We can discussanything.”
“Me?”sheasks.“Yes.”
“Whydoyoutalkaboutme?”sheasks,andnowshesoundssullen.“I’venevermetanyonelikeyou,Anastasia.”“Whatdoesthatmean?Anyonewhodidn’t justautomaticallysignyourpaperwork,noquestions
asked?”Ishakemyhead.No.“Ineedadvice.”“AndyoutakeadvicefromMrs.Pedo?”shesnaps.“Anastasia—enough,” I almost shout. “Or I’ll put you across my knee. I have no sexual or
romanticinterestinherwhatsoever.She’sadear,valuedfriendandabusinesspartner.That’sall.Wehave a past, a sharedhistory,whichwasmonumentally beneficial forme, though it fuckeduphermarriage—butthatsideofourrelationshipisover.”
Shesquareshershoulders.“Andyourparentsneverfoundout?”“No,”Igrowl.“I’vetoldyouthis.”Sheregardsmewarily,andIthinksheknowsshe’spushedmetomylimit.“Areyoudone?”Iask.“Fornow.”ThankGodfor that.Shewasn’t lyingwhenshe toldme therewasmuchshewanted to say.But
we’renottalkingaboutwhatIwanttotalkabout.IneedtoknowwhereIstand.Ifourarrangementhasachance.
Seizetheday,Grey.“Right—myturn.Youhaven’trespondedtomye-mail.”Shetucksherhairbehindherear,thenshakesherhead.“Iwasgoingtorespond.Butnowyou’re
here.”“You’dratherIwasn’t?”Iholdmybreath.“No,I’mpleased,”shesays.“Good.I’mpleasedI’mhere,too—inspiteofyourinterrogation.So,whileit’sacceptabletogrill
me,youthinkyoucanclaimsomekindofdiplomaticimmunityjustbecauseI’veflownallthiswaytoseeyou?I’mnotbuyingit,MissSteele.Iwanttoknowhowyoufeel.”
Herbrowsknittogether.“Itoldyou.Iampleasedyou’rehere.Thankyouforcomingallthisway.”Shesoundssincere.
“It’smy pleasure.” I lean down and kiss her, and she opens like a flower, offering andwantingmore.Ipullback.“No.IthinkIwantsomeanswersfirstbeforewedoanymore.”
Shesighs,herwarylookreturning.“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”“Well,howyoufeelaboutourwould-bearrangement,forstarters.”Shemakesamouewithhermouth,asifherresponsewillbeunpalatable.Ohdear.“Idon’tthinkIcandoitforanextendedperiodoftime.AwholeweekendbeingsomeoneI’mnot.”
Shelooksdown,awayfromme.That’snota“no.”What’smore,Ithinkshe’sright.Graspingherchin,ItiltherheadupsoIcanseehereyes.
“No,Idon’tthinkyoucould,either.”“Areyoulaughingatme?”“Yes,butinagoodway.”Ikissheragain.“You’renotagreatsubmissive.”Hermouthdropsopen.Isshefeigningoffense?Andthenshelaughs,asweet,infectiouslaugh,and
Iknowshe’snotoffended.“MaybeIdon’thaveagoodteacher.”Goodpointwellmade,MissSteele.I laugh, too.“Maybe.Perhaps I shouldbe stricterwithyou.” I searchher face.“Was it thatbad
whenIspankedyouthefirsttime?”“No,notreally,”shesays,hercheeksflushingalittle.“It’smoretheideaofit?”Iask,pressingherfurther.“Isuppose.Feelingpleasurewhenoneisn’tsupposedto.”“Irememberfeelingthesame.Takesawhiletogetyourheadaroundit.”Weare finallyhaving thediscussion.“Youcanalwaysuse thesafeword,Anastasia.Don’t forget
that.And,aslongasyoufollowtherules,whichfulfilladeepneedinmeforcontrolandtokeepyousafe,thenperhapswecanfindawayforward.”
“Whydoyouneedtocontrolme?”“Becauseitsatisfiesaneedinmethatwasn’tmetinmyformativeyears.”“Soit’saformoftherapy?”“I’venotthoughtofitlikethat,butyes,Isupposeitis.”Shenods.“But,here’sthething—onemomentyousay‘don’tdefyme,’thenextyousayyouliketo
bechallenged.That’saveryfinelinetotreadsuccessfully.”“Icanseethat.Butyouseemtobedoingfinesofar.”“Butatwhatpersonalcost?I’mtiedupinknotshere.”“Ilikeyoutiedupinknots.”“That’snotwhatImeant!”Shedashesherhandthroughthewater,soakingme.“Didyoujustsplashme?”“Yes,”shesays.“Oh,MissSteele.”Iwrapmyarmaroundherwaistandtugherontomylap,sloppingwateronto
theflooronceagain.“Ithinkwe’vedoneenoughtalkingfornow.”Iholdherheadbetweenmyhandsandkissher,mytongueteasingherlipsapart,thendelvinginto
hermouth, dominating her. She runs her fingers throughmyhair, returningmy kiss, twisting hertonguearoundmine.Anglingherheadwithonehand,Ishiftherwiththeothersoshe’sastrideme.
Ipullbackto takeabreath.Hereyesaredarkandcarnal,her lustplaintosee.Ipullherwristsbehindherbackandgrasptheminonehand.“I’mgoingtohaveyounow,”Ideclare,andIlifthersothatmyerectionispoisedbeneathher.“Ready?”
“Yes,” she breathes, and slowly I lower her ontome,watching her expression as I fill her. Shemoansandcloseshereyes,thrustingherbreastsforwardintomyface.
Oh,sweetJesus.
I flex my hips, lifting her, burying myself even deeper inside her, and lean forward so ourforeheadsaretouching.
Shefeelssogood.“Please,letmyhandsgo,”shewhispers.Iopenmyeyesandseehermouthopenasshedragsairintoherlungs.“Don’ttouchme,”Iplead,andreleaseherhandsandgraspherhips.Shegrabstheedgeofthebath
andslowlystartstotakeme.Up.Thendown.Ohsoslowly.Sheopenshereyestofindmineonherface.Watchingher.Ridingme.Leaningdown,shekissesme,hertongueinvadingmymouth.Iclosemyeyes,revelinginthesensation.
Ohyes,Ana.Herfingersareinmyhair, tuggingandpullingasshekissesme,herwettongueentwiningwith
mineasshemoves.Iholdherhipsandstartliftingherhigherandfaster,vaguelyawarethatwateriscascadingoutofthebath.
ButIdon’tcare.Iwanther.Likethis.Thisbeautifulwomanwhomoansintomymouth.Up.Down.Up.Down.Overandover.Givingherselftome.Takingme.“Ah.”Thepleasurecatchesinherthroat.“That’sright,baby,”Iwhisper,asshequickensaroundme,thencriesoutassheexplodesintoher
orgasm.Iwrapmyarmsaroundher,embracingher,holdinghertightlyasIlosemyselfandcomeinside
her.“Ana,baby!”Icry,andIknowIneverwanttolethergo.Shekissesmyear.“Thatwas—”shebreathes.“Yeah.”Holdingherarms, Iurgeherbackso Icanstudyher.She looks sleepyandsated,andI
imagineImustlookthesame.“Thankyou,”Iwhisper.Shelooksconfused.“Fornottouchingme,”Iclarify.Herfacesoftensandsheraisesherhand.Itense.Butsheshakesherheadandtracesmylipswith
herfinger.“You said it’s ahard limit. Iunderstand.”And she leans forwardandkissesme.Theunfamiliar
feelingsurfaces,swellinginmychest,unnamedanddangerous.“Let’sgetyoutobed.Unlessyouhavetogohome?”I’malarmedatwheremyemotionsaregoing.“No.Idon’thavetogo.”“Good.Stay.”I stand her up and climb out of the bath to fetch us both towels, and dismiss my unsettling
feelings.Iwrapherinatowel,drapeonearoundmywaist,anddropanotheronthefloorinavainattempt
tocleanupthewatersloshedonthefloor.AnawandersovertothesinksasIdrainthebath.
Well.Thatwasaninterestingevening.Andshewasright.Itwasgoodtotalk,thoughI’mnotsurewe’veresolvedanything.She’sbrushingherteethwithmytoothbrushwhenIwalkthroughthebathroomtothebedroom.It
makesmesmile.IpickupmyphoneandseethatthemissedcallwasfromTaylor.Itexthim.
Everythingokay?
I’llbeleavingtogoglidingat6a.m.
Herespondsimmediately.
That’swhyIwascalling.Weatherlooksgood.
I’llseeyouthere.Goodnight,sir.
I’m takingMiss Steele soaring!My delight bubbles up into a broad grin thatwidenswhen shecomesoutofthebathroomwrappedinthetowel.
“Ineedmypurse,”shesays,lookingalittleshy.“Ithinkyouleftitinthelivingroom.”Shescampersofftofetchit,andIbrushmyteeth,knowingthatthetoothbrushhasjustbeenin
hermouth.In the bedroom I discard the towel, pull back the sheets, and lie down, waiting for Ana. She’s
disappearedintothebathroomagainandclosedthedoor.Momentslatershereturns.Shedropshertowelandliesdownbesideme,nakedexceptforashy
smile.Welieinbedfacingeachother,huggingourpillows.“Doyouwanttosleep?”Iask.Iknowwehavetogetupearly,andit’snearlyeleven.
“No.I’mnottired,”shesays,hereyesshining.“Whatdoyouwanttodo?”Moresex?“Talk.”Moretalking.OhLord.Ismile,resigned.“Aboutwhat?”“Stuff.”“Whatstuff?”“You.”“Whataboutme?”“What’syourfavoritefilm?”Ilikeherquick-firequestions.“Today,it’sThePiano.”Shebeamsbackatme.“Ofcourse.Sillyme.Suchasad,excitingscore,whichnodoubtyoucan
play.Somanyaccomplishments,Mr.Grey.”“Andthegreatestoneisyou,MissSteele.”Hergrinbroadens.“SoIamnumberseventeen.”“Seventeen?”
“Numberofwomenyou’ve,um…hadsexwith.”Oh,shit.“Notexactly.”Hersmilevanishes.“Yousaidfifteen.”“Iwasreferringtothenumberofwomeninmyplayroom.Ithoughtthat’swhatyoumeant.You
didn’taskmehowmanywomenI’dhadsexwith.”“Oh.”Hereyeswiden.“Vanilla?”sheasks.“No.Youaremyonevanillaconquest.”Andforsomestrangereason,Ifeelinsanelypleasedwith
myself.“Ican’tgiveyouanumber.Ididn’tputnotchesinthebedpostoranything.”“Whatarewetalking—tens,hundreds…thousands?”“Tens.We’reinthetens,forpity’ssake.”Ifeignoutrage.“Allsubmissives?”“Yes.”“Stopgrinningatme,”shesayshaughtily,tryingandfailingtostiflehers.“Ican’t.You’refunny.”AndIfeelalittlelight-headedaswebeamateachother.“Funnypeculiarorfunnyha-ha?”“Abitofboth,Ithink.”“That’sdamnedcheeky,comingfromyou,”shesays.Ikisshernosetoprepareher.“Thiswillshockyou,Anastasia.Ready?”Hereyesarewideandeager,fullofdelight.Tellher.“Allsubmissivesintraining,whenIwastraining.ThereareplacesinandaroundSeattlethatone
cangoandpractice.LearntodowhatIdo.”“Oh,”sheexclaims.“Yep,I’vepaidforsex,Anastasia.”“That’snothingtobeproudof,”shescoldsme.“Andyou’reright,Iamdeeplyshocked.Andcross
thatIcan’tshockyou.”“Youworemyunderwear.”“Didthatshockyou?”“Yes.Youdidn’twearyourpantiestomeetmyparents.”Herdelightisrestored.“Didthatshockyou?”“Yes.”“ItseemsIcanonlyshockyouintheunderweardepartment.”“Youtoldmeyouwereavirgin.That’sthebiggestshockI’veeverhad.”“Yes,yourfacewasapicture,aKodakmoment.”Shegiggles,andherfacelightsup.“Youletmeworkyouoverwitharidingcrop.”I’mgrinninglikethefuckingCheshirecat.When
haveIeverstretchedoutnakedbesideawomanandjusttalked?“Didthatshockyou?”“Yep.”
“Well,Imayletyoudoitagain.”“Oh,Idohopeso,MissSteele.Thisweekend?”“Okay,”shesays.“Okay?”“Yes.I’llgototheRedRoomofPainagain.”“Yousaymyname.”“Thatshocksyou?”“ThefactthatIlikeitshocksme.”“Christian,”shewhispers,andthesoundofmynamefromher lipsspreadswarmththroughmy
body.Ana.“Iwanttodosomethingtomorrow.”“What?”“Asurprise.Foryou.”Sheyawns.Enough.She’stired.“AmIboringyou,MissSteele?”“Never,”sheconfesses.Ileanacrossandgiveheraquickkiss.“Sleep,”Iorder,andswitchoffthebedsidelight.AndafewmomentslaterIhearherevenbreathing;she’sfastasleep.Ipullasheetoverher,roll
ontomyback,andstareupatthewhirringceilingfan.Well,talkingisn’tsobad.Todayworkedoutafterall.Thankyou,Elena…Andwithasatedsmile,Iclosemyeyes.
THURSDAY,JUNE2,2011
“No.Don’tleaveme.”Thewhisperedwordspenetratemyslumber,andIstirandwake.Whatwasthat?Ilookaroundtheroom.WherethehellamI?Ohyes,Savannah.“No.Please.Don’tleaveme.”What?It’sAna.“I’mnotgoinganywhere,”Imutter,bemused.Turning,Ipropmyselfuponmy
elbow.She’shuddledbesidemeandshelookslikeshe’sasleep.“Iwon’tleaveyou,”shemumbles.Myscalpprickles.“I’mverygladtohearthat.”Shesighs.“Ana?” I whisper. But she doesn’t react. Her eyes are closed. She’s fast asleep. She must be
dreaming…whatisshedreamingabout?“Christian,”shesays.“Yes,”Irespondautomatically.Butshesaysnothing;she’sdefinitelyasleep,butI’veneverheardhertalkinhersleepbefore.Iwatchher, fascinated.Herfaceis illuminatedbyambientlightfromthelivingarea.Herbrow
crinklesforamoment,asifanunpleasantthoughtisplaguingher,thenit’ssmoothoncemore.Withherlipspartedasshebreathes,herfacesoftinsleep,she’sbeautiful.
Andshedoesn’twantmetogo,andshewon’tleaveme.Thecandorofhersubconsciousadmissionsweepsthroughmelikeasummerbreeze,leavingwarmthandhopeinitswake.
She’snotgoingtoleaveme.Well,youhaveyouranswer,Grey.Ismiledownather.Sheseemstohavesettledandstoppedtalking.Icheckthetimeontheradio
alarm:4:57.It’stimetogetupanyway,andI’melated.I’mgoingsoaring.WithAna. I lovesoaring.Iplacea
quickkissonhertemple,rise,andheadintothemainroomofthesuite,whereIorderbreakfastandcheckthelocalweatherreport.
Anotherhotdaywithhighhumidity.Norain.Ishowerquickly,drymyself,thengatherAna’sclothesfromthebathroomandlaythemoutona
chair near the bed. As I pick up her panties I remember howmy devious plan to confiscate herunderwearbackfired.
Oh,MissSteele.Andafterourfirstnighttogether…
“Oh,by theway, I’mwearingyourunderwear.”Andsheyanks thewaistbandup, so Icansee thewords“Polo”and“Ralph”peekingoverherjeans.
Ishakemyhead,andfromthearmoireItakeapairofmyboxerbriefsanddepositthemonthechair.Ilikeitwhenshewearsmyclothes.
Shemumblesagain,andIthinkshesaid“cage,”butI’mnotsure.Whatthehellisthatabout?Shedoesn’tstir,butremainsblissfullyasleepwhileIdress.AsIpullonmyT-shirtthere’saknock
on thedoor.Breakfasthasarrived:pastries,acoffee forme,andTwiningsEnglishBreakfast tea forAna.Fortunatelythehotelstocksherfavoriteblend.
It’stimetowakeMissSteele.“Strawberry,”shemutters,asIsitdownbesideheronthebed.What’swiththefruit?“Anastasia,”Isummonhergently.“Iwantmore.”Iknowyoudo,andsodoI.“Comeon,baby.”Icontinuetocoaxherawake.Shegripes.“No.Iwanttotouchyou.”Shit.“Wakeup.”Ileandownandgentlytugherearlobewithmyteeth.“No.”Shescrewshereyestight.“Wakeup,baby.”“Ohno,”sheprotests.“Time to get up, baby. I’m going to switch on the side light.” I reach across and switch it on,
bathingherinapoolofdimlight.Shesquints.“No,”shewhines.Herreluctancetowakeisamusinganddifferent.Inmypreviousrelationshipsa
sleepysubmissivecouldexpecttobedisciplined.Inuzzleherearandwhisper,“Iwanttochasethedawnwithyou.”Ikisshercheek,kisseacheyelid
inturn,kissthetipofhernose,andkissherlips.Hereyesflickeropen.“Goodmorning,beautiful.”Andtheycloseagain.Shegrumbles,andIgrindownather.“Youarenotamorningperson.”She opens one unfocused eye, studying me. “I thought you wanted sex,” she says, her relief
obvious.I suppressmylaugh.“Anastasia, Ialwayswantsexwithyou. It’sheartwarming toknowthatyou
feelthesame.”“OfcourseIdo,justnotwhenit’ssolate.”Shehugsherpillow.“It’snotlate,it’searly.Comeon—upyougo.We’regoingout.I’lltakearaincheckonthesex.”“Iwashavingsuchanicedream.”Shesighs,peeringupatme.“Dreamaboutwhat?”“You.”Herfacewarms.
“WhatwasIdoingthistime?”“Tryingtofeedmestrawberries,”shesayswithasmallvoice.That accounts for her babbling. “Dr. Flynn could have a field daywith that.Up—get dressed.
Don’tbothertoshower,wecandothatlater.”Sheprotestsbutsitsup,ignoringthesheetthatslipsdowntoherwaistandexposesherbody.My
cockstirs.Withherhairmussed,cascadingoverhershouldersandcurlingaroundhernakedbreasts,shelooksgorgeous.Ignoringmyarousal,Istanduptogivehersomeroom.
“Whattimeisit?”sheasks,hervoicesleepy.“Fivethirtyinthemorning.”“Feelslikethreea.m.”“Wedon’thavemuchtime.Iletyousleepaslongaspossible.Come.”Iwanttodragheroutof
bedanddresshermyself.Ican’twaittogetherairborne.“Can’tIhaveashower?”“Ifyouhaveashower,I’llwantonewithyou,andyouandIknowwhatwillhappenthen—theday
willjustgo.Come.”Shegivesmeapatientlook.“Whatarewedoing?”“It’sasurprise.Itoldyou.”Sheshakesherheadandbeams,verymuchamused.“Okay.”Sheclimbsoutofbed,obliviousto
hernudity,andnoticesherclothesonthechair.I’mdelightedthatshe’snotherusualshyself;maybeit’sbecauseshe’ssleepy.Sheslidesonmyunderwearandgivesmeabroadsmile.
“I’llgiveyousomeroomnowthatyou’reup.”Leavinghertodress,Iwanderbackintothemainroom,sitdownatthesmalldiningtable,andhelpmyselftosomecoffee.
Shejoinsmeafewminuteslater.“Eat,” I order, motioning for her to take a seat. She stares at me, transfixed, her eyes glazed.
“Anastasia,”Isay,interruptingherdaydream.Hereyelashesflutterasshecomesbackfromwherevershe’sbeen.
“I’llhavesometea.CanItakeacroissantforlater?”sheaskshopefully.She’snotgoingtoeat.“Don’trainonmyparade,Anastasia.”“I’lleatlater,whenmystomach’swokenup.Aboutseventhirty,okay?”“Okay.”Ican’tforceher.Shelooksdefiantandstubborn.“Iwanttorollmyeyesatyou,”shesays.Oh,Ana,bringiton.“Byallmeans,do,andyouwillmakemyday.”Shelooksupatthefiresprinklerontheceiling.“Well,aspankingwouldwakemeup,Isuppose,”
shesays,asifshe’sweighingtheoption.She’sconsideringit?Itdoesn’tworkthatway,Anastasia!“On the other hand, I don’t want you to be all hot and bothered; the climate here is warm
enough.”Shegivesmeasaccharinesmile.
“Youare,asever,challenging,MissSteele.”Myvoiceisdroll.“Drinkyourtea.”Shesitsdownandtakesacoupleofsips.“Drinkup.Weshouldgo.”I’mkeentogetontheroad—it’squiteadrive.“Wherearewegoing?”“You’llsee.”Stopwiththegrinning,Grey.Shepoutswith frustration.MissSteele,asever, iscurious.Butall she’swearingishercamisole
and jeans; she’llbecoldoncewe’reairborne. “Finishyour tea,” Iorder, and leave the table. In thebedroomIriflethroughthearmoireandpulloutasweatshirt.Thisshoulddo.Icallthevaletandtellhimtobringthecaroutfront.
“I’mready,”shesaysasIreturntothemainroom.“You’llneedthis.”Itossthesweatshirttoherasshegivesmeabewilderedlook.“Trustme.”Iplantaswiftkissonherlips.Takingherhand,Iopenthedoortothesuiteandwe
headfortheelevators.There’sahotelemployeestandingthere—Brian,accordingtohisnametag—alsowaitingfortheelevator.
“Goodmorning,”hesays,givingusbothacheerfulsaluteasthedoorsopen.IglanceatAnaandsmirkasweenter.
Noshenanigansinelevatorsthismorning.Shehidesher smileandpeersat the floor,hercheekscoloring.Sheknowsexactlywhat’s going
throughmymind.Brianwishesusagooddayasweexit.Outside,thevaletiswaitingwiththeMustang.Anaarchesabrow,impressedbytheGT500.Yeah,
it’safundrive,evenifit’sonlyaMustang.“Youknow,sometimesit’sgreatbeingme,”Iteaseher,andwithapolitebowIopenherdoor.
“Wherearewegoing?”“You’llsee.”Igetbehindthewheelandeasethecarintodrive.AtthestoplightIquicklyprogram
theaddressoftheairfieldintotheGPS.ItdirectsusoutofSavannahtowardI-95.IswitchonmyiPodviathesteeringwheel,andthecarisfilledwithasublimemelody.
“What’sthis?”Anaasks.“It’sfromLaTraviata.AnoperabyVerdi.”“LaTraviata?I’veheardofthat.Ican’tthinkwhere.Whatdoesitmean?”Igiveheraknowinglook.“Well,literally,‘thewomanledastray.’It’sbasedonAlexandreDumas’s
bookLaDameauxCamélias.”“Ah.I’vereadit.”“Ithoughtyoumighthave.”“Thedoomedcourtesan,”sherecounts,hervoicetingedwithmelancholy.“Hmm,it’sadepressing
story,”shesays.“Toodepressing?”Wecan’thavethat,MissSteele,especiallywhenI’minsuchagoodmood.“Do
youwanttochoosesomemusic?ThisisonmyiPod.”Itapthenavigationscreenandbringuptheplaylist.
“Youchoose,”Ioffer,wonderingifshe’lllikeanythingIhaveiniTunes.Shestudiesthelistandscrollsthroughit,concentratinghard.Shetapsonasong,andVerdi’sdulcetstringsarereplacedbyapoundingbeatandBritneySpears.
“ ‘Toxic,’eh?”Iobserve,withwryhumor.Isshetryingtotellmesomething?Isshereferringtome?“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,”shesaysinnocently.DoesshethinkIshouldwearawarning?MissSteelewantstoplaygames.Sobeit.Iturnthemusicdownatad.It’salittleearlyforthisremix,andforthereminder.
“Sir,thissubmissiverespectfullyrequestsMaster’siPod.”IglanceawayfromthespreadsheetI’mreadingandstudyherasshekneelsbesideme,hereyescast
down.She’sbeenexceptionalthisweekend.HowcanIrefuse?“Sure,Leila,takeit.Ithinkit’sinthedock.”“Thankyou,Master,”shesays,andstandswithherusualgrace,withoutlookingatme.Goodgirl.Andwearingonlyredhighheels,sheteetersovertotheiPoddockandcollectsherreward.
“Ididn’tputthatsongonmyiPod,”Itellherbreezily,andfloorthegas,throwingusbothintothebackofourseats,butIhearAna’ssmall,exasperatedhuffabovetheroaroftheengine.
AsBritneycontinuesathersultrybest,Anadrumsherfingersonherthigh,radiatingdisquietasshestaresoutthecarwindow.TheMustangeatsupthemilesonthefreeway;there’snotraffic,anddawn’sfirstlightischasingusdownI-95.
AnasighsasDamienRicebegins.Putheroutofhermisery,Grey.AndIdon’tknowifit’smygoodmood,ourtalklastnight,orthefactthatI’mabouttogosoaring
—butIwanttotellherwhoputthesongontheiPod.“ItwasLeila.”“Leila?”“Anex,whoputthesongonmyiPod.”“Oneofthefifteen?”Sheturnsherfullattentiontome,hungryforinformation.“Yes.”“Whathappenedtoher?”“Wefinished.”“Why?”“Shewantedmore.”“Andyoudidn’t?”
Iglanceatherand shakemyhead. “I’veneverwantedmore,until Imetyou.”She rewardsmewithherbashfulsmile.
Yes,Ana.It’snotjustyouwhowantsmore.“Whathappenedtotheotherfourteen?”sheasks.“Youwantalist?Divorced,beheaded,died?”“You’renotHenrytheEighth,”shescoldsme.“Okay.Innoparticularorder,I’veonlyhadlong-termrelationshipswithfourwomen,apartfrom
Elena.”“Elena?”“Mrs.Robinsontoyou.”Shepausesforamoment,andIknowshe’sscrutinizingme.Ikeepmyeyesontheroad.“Whathappenedtothefour?”sheasks.“Soinquisitive,soeagerforinformation,MissSteele,”Itease.“Oh,Mr.WhenIsYourPeriodDue?”“Anastasia,amanneedstoknowthesethings.”“Doeshe?”“Ido.”“Why?”“BecauseIdon’twantyoutogetpregnant.”“NeitherdoI.Well,notforafewyearsyet,”shesaysalittlewistfully.Ofcourse,thatwouldbewithsomeoneelse…thethoughtisdisquieting…She’smine.“Sotheotherfour,whathappened?”shepersists.“Onemetsomeoneelse.Theother threewanted—more. Iwasn’t in themarket formore then.”
WhydidIopenthiscanofworms?“Andtheothers?”“Justdidn’tworkout.”ShenodsandstaresoutthewindowasAaronNevillesings“TellItLikeItIs.”“Whereareweheaded?”sheasksagain.We’reclosenow.“Anairfield.”“We’renotgoingbacktoSeattle,arewe?”Shesoundspanicked.“No,Anastasia.”Ichuckleatherreaction.“We’regoingtoindulgeinmysecondfavoritepastime.”“Second?”“Yep. I toldyoumy favorite thismorning.”Herexpression tellsme she’s completelyperplexed.
“Indulginginyou,MissSteele.That’sgottobetopofmylist.AnywayIcangetyou.”Shelooksdownatherlap,herlipstwitching.“Well,that’squitehighuponmylistofdiverting,
kinkypriorities,too,”shesays.“I’mpleasedtohearit.”“So,airfield?”
Ibeamather.“Soaring.We’regoingtochasethedawn,Anastasia.”ItakealeftintotheairfieldanddriveuptotheBrunswickSoaringAssociationhangar,whereIstopthecar.
“Youupforthis?”Iask.“You’reflying?”“Yes.”Herfaceglowswithexcitement.“Yes,please!”Ilovehowfearlessandenthusiasticsheiswithany
newexperience.Leaningover,Ikissherquickly.“Anotherfirst,MissSteele.”Outsideit’scoolbutnotcold,andtheskyis lighternow,pearlandbrightat thehorizon.Iwalk
around the car and openAna’s door.Withher hand inminewemake ourway to the front of thehangar.
Tayloriswaitingtherewithayoungbeardedmaninshortsandsandals.“Mr.Grey, this is your towpilot,Mr.MarkBenson,” saysTaylor. I releaseAna so I can shake
handswithBenson,whohasawildglintinhiseye.“You’vegot a greatmorning for it,Mr.Grey,”Benson says. “Thewind is at tenknots from the
northeast,whichmeanstheconvergencealongtheshoreshouldkeepyouupforaweewhile.”BensonisBritish,withafirmhandshake.“Sounds great,” I answer, and watch Ana as she shares a private joke with Taylor. “Anastasia.
Come.”“Seeyoulater,”shesaystoTaylor.Ignoringherfamiliaritywithmystaff,IintroducehertoBenson.“Mr.Benson,thisismygirlfriend,AnastasiaSteele.”“Pleasedtomeetyou,”shesays,andBensongivesherabrightsmileastheyshakehands.“Likewise,”hesays.“Ifyou’dliketofollowme.”“Leadtheway.”ItakeAna’shandaswefallintostepbesideBenson.“IhaveaBlaníkL23setupandready.She’soldschool.Butshehandleswell.”“Great.IlearnedtoflyinaBlaník.AnL13,”ItellBenson.“Can’tgowrongwithaBlaník.I’mabigfan.”Hegivesmeathumbs-up.“ThoughIprefertheL23
fortheaerobatics.”Inodinagreement.“You’rehookedup tomyPiperPawnee,”he continues. “I’ll takeherup to three thousand feet,
thensetyouguysfree.Thatshouldgiveyousomeflyingtime.”“Ihopeso.Thecloudcoverlookspromising.”“It’sabitearlyinthedayformuchlift.Butyouneverknow.Dave,mymate,willspotthewing.
He’sinthejakes.”“Okay.”Ithink“jakes”meansrestroom.“You’vebeenflyinglong?”“Sincemydays in theRAF.ButI’vebeenflying these tail-draggers for fiveyearsnow.We’reon
CTAF122.3,soyouknow.”“Gotit.”TheL23looks tobe in fineshape,andImakeanoteofherFAAregistration:November.Papa.
Three.Alpha.“First we need to strap on your parachute.” Benson reaches into the cockpit and pulls out a
parachuteforAna.“I’lldothat,”Ioffer,takingthebundlefromBensonbeforehehasachancetoputitorhishands
onAna.“I’llfetchsomeballast,”Bensonsayswithacheerysmile,andheheadstowardtheplane.“Youlikestrappingmeintothings,”Anasayswitharaisedbrow.“MissSteele,youhavenoidea.Here,stepintothestraps.”Iholdopenthelegfasteningsforher.
Leaningover,sheputsherhandonmyshoulder.Istiffeninstinctively,expectingthedarknesstowakeand chokeme, but it doesn’t. It’s weird. I don’t know how I’m going to react where her touch isconcerned.Sheletsgooncetheloopsarearoundherthighs,andIhoisttheshoulderstrapsupoverherarmsandfastentheparachute.
Boy,shelooksgoodinaharness.Briefly,Iwonderhowshe’dlookspread-eagledandhangingfromthekarabinersintheplayroom,
hermouthandhersexatmydisposal.Butalas,she’ssetsuspensionasahardlimit.“There,you’lldo,”Imutter,tryingtobanishtheimagefrommymind.“Doyouhaveyourhairtiefromyesterday?”
“Youwantmetoputmyhairup?”sheasks.“Yes.”Shedoesasshe’stold.Forachange.“Inyougo.”Isteadyherwithmyhandandshestartstoclimbintotheback.“No,front.Thepilotsitsintheback.”“Butyouwon’tbeabletosee.”“I’llseeplenty.”I’llseeherenjoyingherself,Ihope.SheclimbsinandIbendoverintothecockpittofastenherintoherseat,lockingtheharnessand
tighteningthestraps.“Hmm,twiceinonemorning.Iamaluckyman,”Iwhisper,andkissher.Shebeamsupatme,heranticipationpalpable.
“This won’t take long—twenty, thirty minutes at most. Thermals aren’t great this time of themorning,butit’ssobreathtakingupthereatthishour.Ihopeyou’renotnervous.”
“Excited,”shesays,stillgrinning.“Good.”Istrokehercheekwithmyindexfinger,thenputonmyownparachuteandclimbinto
thepilotseat.BensoncomesbackcarryingballastforAna,andhechecksherstraps.“Yep,that’ssecure.Firsttime?”heasksher.“Yes.”“You’llloveit.”“Thanks,Mr.Benson,”Anasays.“CallmeMark,”hereplies, fucking twinklingather. Inarrowmyeyesathim.“Okay?”heasks
me.“Yep.Let’sgo,” I say, impatient tobeairborneandtogethimaway frommygirl.Bensonnods,
shuts thecanopy, andamblesover to thePiper.Off to the right InoticeDave,Benson’smate,hasappeared, propping up the wingtip. Quickly I test the equipment: pedals (I hear the ruddermovebehind me); control stick—side to side (a quick glance at the wings and I can see the aileronsmoving);andcontrolstick—fronttoback(Iheartheelevatorrespond).
Right.We’reready.Benson climbs into the Piper and almost immediately the single propeller starts up, loud and
throatyinthemorningquiet.Afewmomentslaterhisplaneisrollingforward,takinguptheslackofthetowrope,andwe’reoff.Ibalancetheaileronsandtherudderas thePiperpicksupspeed, thenIeasebackonthecontrolstick,andwesailintotheairbeforeBensondoes.
“Herewego,baby,”IshouttoAnaaswegainheight.“BrunswickTraffic,DeltaVictor,headingtwo-seven-zero.”It’sBensonontheradio.Iignorehim
asweclimbhigherandhigher.TheL23handleswell,andIwatchAna;herheadwhipsfromsidetosideasshetriestotakeintheview.IwishIcouldseehersmile.
Weheadwest,thenewbornsunbehindus,andInotewhenwecrossI-95.Ilovetheserenityuphere, away fromeverythingandeveryone, justmeand theglider looking for lift…and to think I’venever shared thisexperiencewithanyonebefore.The light isbeautiful, lambent,all Ihadhoped itwouldbe…forAnaandforme.
WhenIcheckthealtimeterwe’renearingthreethousandfeetandcoastingat105knots.Benson’svoicecracklesovertheradio,informingmethatwe’reatthreethousandfeetandwecanrelease.
“Affirmative.Release,”Iradioback,andpullthereleaseknob.ThePiperdisappearsandIrollusintoaslowdip,untilwe’reheadingsouthwestandridingthewind.Analaughsoutloud.Encouragedbyherreaction,Icontinuetospiral,hopingwemightfindsomeconvergenceliftnearthecoastlineorthermalsbeneathpalepinkclouds—theshallowcumulusmightmeanlift,eventhisearly.
Suddenly filledwithaheadycombinationofmischiefand joy, I shoutatAna,“Holdon tight!”And I take us into a full roll. She squeals, her hands shooting up and bracing against the canopy.WhenIrightusoncemoreshe’slaughing.Itisthemostgratifyingresponseamancouldwant,anditmakesmelaugh,too.
“I’mgladIdidn’thavebreakfast!”sheshouts.“Yes,inhindsightit’sgoodyoudidn’t,becauseI’mgoingtodothatagain.”This timesheholdson to theharnessandstaresdirectlydownat thegroundas she’s suspended
overit.Shegiggles,thenoisemixingwiththewhistleofthewind.“Beautiful,isn’tit?”Ishout.“Yes.”Iknowwehaven’tgot long,as there’snotmuch liftouthere—but Idon’tcare.Ana isenjoying
herself…andsoamI.“Seethejoystickinfrontofyou?Grabhold.”Shetriestoturnherhead,butshe’sbuckledintootight.“Goon,Anastasia.Grabit,”Iurgeher.Myjoystickmovesinmyhands,andIknowshe’sholdinghers.“Holdtight.Keepitsteady.Seethemiddledialinfront?Keeptheneedledeadcenter.”
Wecontinuetoflyinastraightline,theyawstringstayingperpendiculartothecanopy.“Goodgirl.”MyAna.Neverbacksdownfromachallenge.AndforsomebizarrereasonIfeelimmenselyproud
ofher.“Iamamazedyouletmetakecontrol,”sheshouts.“You’dbeamazedwhatI’dletyoudo,MissSteele.Backtomenow.”Incommandofthejoystickoncemore,Iturnusinthedirectionoftheairfieldaswebegintolose
altitude. I think I can landus there. I call over the radio to informBensonandwhoevermightbelisteningthatwe’regoingtoland,andthenIexecuteanothercircletobringusclosertotheground.
“Hangon,baby.Thiscangetbumpy.”IdipagainandbringtheL23intolinewiththerunwayaswedescendtowardthegrass.Weland
withabump,andImanagetokeepbothwingsupuntilwereachateeth-jarringstopneartheendoftherunway.Iunclipthecanopy,openit,releasemyharness,andclamberout.
I stretchmy limbs,undomyparachute,and smiledownat the rosy-cheekedMissSteele. “Howwasthat?”Iask,reachingdowntounbuckleherfromtheseatandtheparachute.
“Thatwasextraordinary.Thankyou,”shesays,hereyessparklingwithjoy.“Wasitmore?”Iprayshecan’thearthehopeinmyvoice.“Muchmore.”Shebeams,andIfeeltenfeettall.“Come.”Iholdoutmyhandandhelpheroutofthecockpit.AsshejumpsdownIfoldherinto
my arms, pulling her against me. Filled with adrenaline, my body responds immediately to hersoftness.Inananosecondmyhandsareinherhair,andI’mtippingherheadbacksoIcankissher.My hand skims down to the base of her spine, pressing her againstmy growing erection, andmymouthtakeshersinalong,lingering,possessivekiss.
Iwanther.Here.Now.Onthegrass.Sherespondsinkind,herfingerstwistinginmyhair,tugging,beggingformore,assheopensup
formelikeamorningglory.Ibreakawayforairandrationality.Notinafield!BensonandTaylorarenearby.Hereyesareluminous,pleadingformore.Don’tlookatmelikethat,Ana.“Breakfast,”Iwhisper,beforeIdosomethingI’llregret.Turning,Iclaspherhandandwalkback
towardthecar.“Whatabouttheglider?”sheasksasshetriestokeepupwithme.“Someonewilltakecareofthat.”It’swhatIpayTaylortodo.“We’lleatnow.Come.”She bounces along besideme, brimmingwith happiness; I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her so
buoyant.HermoodisinfectiousandIdon’trememberifI’veeverfeltthisupbeat,either.Ican’thelpmybig,fatgrinasIholdopenthecardoorforher.
WithKingsofLeonbeltingfromthesoundsystemIeasetheMustangoutoftheairfieldtowardI-95.
Aswecruisealongthefreeway,Ana’sBlackBerrystartsbeeping.“What’sthat?”Iask.“Alarmformypill,”shemutters.“Good,welldone.Ihatecondoms.”FromthesidewayslookIgiveher,Ithinkshe’srollinghereyes,butI’mnotsure.“IlikethatyouintroducedmetoMarkasyourgirlfriend,”shesays,changingthesubject.“Isn’tthatwhatyouare?”“AmI?Ithoughtyouwantedasubmissive.”“SodidI,Anastasia,andIdo.ButI’vetoldyou,Iwantmore,too.”“I’mveryhappythatyouwantmore,”shesays.“Weaimtoplease,MissSteele,”IteaseasIpullintotheInternationalHouseofPancakes—my
father’sguiltypleasure.“IHOP?”shesaysindisbelief.TheMustangrumblestoastop.“Ihopeyou’rehungry.”“Iwouldneverhavepicturedyouhere.”“Mydadusedtobringustooneofthesewhenevermymomwentawaytoamedicalconference.”
Weshuffleintoabooth,facingeachother.“Itwasoursecret.”Ipickupamenu,watchingAnaasshetucksherhairbehindherearsandexamineswhatIHOPhastoofferforbreakfast.Shelicksherlipsinanticipation.AndI’mforcedtosuppressmyphysicalreaction.“IknowwhatIwant,”Iwhisper,andwonder how she would feel visiting the restroom with me. Her eyes meet mine, and her pupilsexpand.
“Iwantwhatyouwant,”shemurmurs.Asever,MissSteeledoesnotbackawayfromachallenge.“Here?”Areyousure,Ana?Hereyesdartaround thequiet restaurant, thencometorestonme,
darkeningandfullofcarnalpromise.“Don’tbiteyourlip,”Iwarn.MuchasI’dliketo,I’mnotgoingtofuckherintherestroomatIHOP.Shedeservesbetterthanthat,andfrankly,sodoI.“Nothere,notnow.IfIcan’thaveyouhere,don’ttemptme.”
We’reinterrupted.“Hi,myname’sLeandra.WhatcanIgetforyou…er…folks…er…today,thismornin’?”Oh,God.Iignoretheredheadedserver.“Anastasia?”Iprompther.“Itoldyou,Iwantwhatyouwant.”Hell.Shemightaswellbeaddressingmygroin.“ShallIgiveyoufolksanotherminutetodecide?”thewaitressasks.“No.Weknowwhatwewant.”IcannottearmygazefromAna’s.“We’llhavetwoportionsofthe
originalbuttermilkpancakeswithmaplesyrupandbaconontheside,twoglassesoforangejuice,one
blackcoffeewithskimmilk,andoneEnglishBreakfasttea,ifyouhaveit.”Anasmiles.“Thankyou,sir.Willthatbeall?”thewaitressexclaims,allbreathyandembarrassed.Tearingmy
attentionawayfromAna,Idismissthewaitresswithalookandshescurriesaway.“Youknow,it’sreallynotfair,”Anasays,hervoicequietasherfingertracesafigureeightonthe
table.“What’snotfair?”“Howyoudisarmpeople.Women.Me.”“DoIdisarmyou?”I’mstunned.“Allthetime.”“It’sjustlooks,Anastasia.”“No,Christian,it’smuchmorethanthat.”Shehasthisthewrongwayaround,andonceagainItellherhowdisarmingIfindher.Herbrowfurrows.“Isthatwhyyou’vechangedyourmind?”“Changedmymind?”“Yes—about…er…us?”HaveIchangedmymind?IthinkI’vejustrelaxedmyboundariesalittle,that’sall.“Idon’tthink
I’vechangedmymindperse.Wejustneedtoredefineourparameters,redrawourbattlelines,ifyouwill.Wecanmakethiswork,I’msure.Iwantyousubmissiveinmyplayroom.Iwillpunishyouifyoudigress from the rules. Other than that…well, I think it’s all up for discussion. Those are myrequirements,MissSteele.Whatsayyoutothat?”
“SoIgettosleepwithyou?Inyourbed?”“Isthatwhatyouwant?”“Yes.”“Iagree,then.Besides,Isleepverywellwhenyou’reinmybed.Ihadnoidea.”“Iwasfrightenedyou’dleavemeifIdidn’tagreetoallofit,”shesays,herfacealittlepale.“I’mnotgoinganywhere,Anastasia.Besides—”Howcanshe think that? Ineed to reassureher.
“We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You e-mailed it tome. And so far, it’sworkingforme.”
“Ilovethatyouwantmore.”“Iknow.”Mytoneiswarm.“Howdoyouknow?”“Trustme.Ijustdo.”Youtoldmeinyoursleep.ThewaitressreturnswithourbreakfastandIwatchAnadevourit.“More”seemstobeworkingfor
her.“Thisisdelicious,”shesays.“Ilikethatyou’rehungry.”“Musthavebeenalltheexerciselastnightandthethrillthismorning.”
“Itwasathrill,wasn’tit?”“Itwasmighty fine,Mr.Grey,” she saysas shepops the finalpieceofpancake intohermouth.
“CanItreatyou?”sheadds.“Treatmehow?”“Payforthismeal.”Isnort.“Idon’tthinkso.”“Please.Iwantto.”“Areyoutryingtocompletelyemasculateme?”Iraiseaneyebrowinwarning.“ThisisprobablytheonlyplacethatI’llbeabletoaffordtopay.”“Anastasia,Iappreciatethethought.Ido.Butno.”ShepursesherlipswithirritationwhenIasktheredheadforthecheck.“Don’tscowl,”Iwarn,and
check the time: it’s 8:30. I have ameeting at 11:15with theSavannahBrownfieldRedevelopmentAuthority, so unfortunately we have to get back to the city. I contemplate canceling themeeting,becauseI’dliketospendthedaywithAna,butno,that’stoomuch.I’mrunningafterthisgirlwhenIshouldbeconcentratingonmybusiness.
Priorities,Grey.Withherhandinmine,weheadtothecarlookinglikeanyothercouple.She’sswampedinmy
sweatshirt,lookingcasual,relaxed,beautiful—andyes,she’swithme.ThreeguysstrollingintoIHOPcheckherout;she’sobliviousevenwhenIputmyarmaroundhertostakemyclaim.Shereallyhasnoideahowlovelysheis.Iopenhercardoorandshegivesmeasunnysmile.
Icouldgetusedtothis.Iprogramhermother’s address into theGPSandwe setoffnorthon I-95, listening to theFoo
Fighters.Ana’sfeettaptothebeat.Thisisthesortofmusicshelikes—all-Americanrock.Thetrafficon the freeway isheaviernow,withcommutersheading into thecity.But Idon’tcare: I likebeingherewithher,spendingtime.Holdingherhand,touchingherknee,watchinghersmile.ShetellsmeaboutpreviousvisitstoSavannah;she’snotkeenontheheat,either,buthereyeslightupwhenshetalksabouthermother.It’llbeinterestingtoseeherinteractingwithhermotherandstepfatherthisevening.
Ipullupoutsidehermother’shomewithsomeregret.Iwishwecouldplayhookyallday;thelasttwelvehourshavebeen…nice.
Morethannice,Grey.Sublime.“Doyouwanttocomein?”sheasks.“Ineedtowork,Anastasia,butI’llbebackthisevening.Whattime?”Shesuggestsseven,thenlooksfromherhandstome,hereyesbrightandjoyful.“Thankyou…for
themore.”“Mypleasure,Anastasia.”Ileanoverandkissher,inhalinghersweet,sweetscent.“I’llseeyoulater.”“Trytostopme,”Iwhisper.She climbsout of the car, still inmy sweatshirt, andwaves good-bye. Iheadback to thehotel,
feelingalittleemptiernowthatshe’snotwithme.
INMYROOM,IcallTaylor.“Mr.Grey.”“Yeah…thanksfororganizingthismorning.”“You’remostwelcome,sir.”Hesoundssurprised.“I’llbereadytoleaveattenforty-fiveforthemeeting.”“I’llhavetheSuburbanwaitingoutside.”“Thanks.”IchangeoutofmyjeansandintomysuitbutleavemyfavoritetiebesidemylaptopasIorderup
coffeefromroomservice.Iworkthroughmye-mails,drinkcoffee,andconsidercallingRos;however,it’stooearlyforher.I
readthroughallthepaperworkthatBillhassent:Savannahdoesmakeagoodcaseforsitingtheplanthere.Icheckmyinbox,andthere’sanewmessagefromAna.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:SoaringasOpposedtoSore-ingDate:June2201110:20ESTTo:ChristianGrey
Sometimes,youreallyknowhowtoshowagirlagoodtime.
Thankyou
Anax
Thetitlemakesmelaughandthekissmakesmefeeltenfeettall.Itypeupmyresponse.
From:ChristianGreySubject:SoaringvsSore-ingDate:June2201110:24ESTTo:AnastasiaSteele
I’lltakeeitherofthoseoveryoursnoring.Ihadagoodtime,too.
ButIalwaysdowhenI’mwithyou.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Heranswerisalmostimmediate.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:SNORINGDate:June2201110:26ESTTo:ChristianGrey
IDONOTSNORE.AndifIdo,it’sveryungallantofyoutopointitout.
Youarenogentleman,Mr.Grey!AndyouareintheDeepSouth,too!
Ana
Ichuckle.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Somniloquy
Date:June2201110:28ESTTo:AnastasiaSteele
Ihaveneverclaimedtobeagentleman,Anastasia,andIthinkIhavedemonstratedthatpointtoyouon
numerousoccasions.IamnotintimidatedbyyourSHOUTYcapitals.ButIwillconfesstoasmallwhitelie:no—
youdon’tsnore,butyoudotalk.Andit’sfascinating.
Whathappenedtomykiss?
ChristianGreyCad&CEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Thiswilldrivehercrazy.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:SpilltheBeansDate:June2201110:32ESTTo:ChristianGrey
Youareacadandascoundrel—definitelynogentleman.
So,whatdidIsay?Nokissesforyouuntilyoutalk!
Oh,thiscouldrunandrun…
From:ChristianGreySubject:SleepingTalkingBeautyDate:June2201110:35ESTTo:AnastasiaSteele
Itwouldbemostungallantofmetosay,andIhavealreadybeenchastisedforthat.
Butifyoubehaveyourself,Imaytellyouthisevening.Idohavetogointoameetingnow.
Laters,baby.
ChristianGreyCEO,Cad&Scoundrel,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
WithabroadgrinIsliponmytie,grabmyjacket,andheaddownstairstofindTaylor.
JUSTOVERANHOURlater,I’mwindingupmymeetingwiththeSavannahBrownfieldRedevelopmentAuthority. Georgia has a great deal to offer, and the team has promised GEH some serious taxincentives.There’saknockatthedoorandTaylorentersthesmallconferenceroom.Hisfacelooksgrim,butwhat’smoreworryingisthathenever,everinterruptsmymeetings.Myscalpprickles.
Ana?Issheokay?“Excuseme,ladiesandgentlemen,”hesaystoallofus.“Yes,Taylor,”Iask,andheapproachesandspeaksdiscreetlyinmyear.“WehaveasituationathomeconcerningMissLeilaWilliams.”Leila?Whatthehell?Andpartofmeisrelievedthatit’snotAna.“Wouldyouexcuseme,please?”IaskthetwomenandtwowomenfromtheSBRA.Inthehallway,Taylor’stoneisgraveasheapologizesoncemoreforinterruptingmymeeting.“Don’tworry.Tellmewhat’shappened.”“MissWilliamsisinanambulanceonthewaytotheERatSeattleFreeHope.”“Ambulance?”“Yes,sir.ShebrokeintotheapartmentandmadeasuicideattemptinfrontofMrs.Jones.”Fuck.“Suicide?”Leila?Inmyapartment?“Sheslashedherwrist.Gailwentwithherintheambulance.She’sinformedmethattheEMTs
arrivedintimeandMissWilliamsisnotinanyimmediatedanger.”“WhyEscala?WhyinfrontofGail?”I’mshocked.Taylorshakeshishead.“Idon’tknow,sir.NeitherdoesGail.Shecan’tgetanysenseoutofMiss
Williams.Apparently,sheonlywantstotalktoyou.”“Fuck.”“Exactly,sir,”Taylorsayswithoutjudgment.Iscrapemyhandsthroughmyhair,tryingtograsp
themagnitudeofwhatLeilahasdone.WhatthehellamIsupposedtodo?Whydidshecometome?Wassheexpectingtoseeme?Where’sherhusband?What’shappenedtohim?
“How’sGail?”“Alittleshaken.”“I’mnotsurprised.”“Ithoughtyoushouldknow,sir.”
“Yes.Sure.Thanks,”Imumble,distracted.Ican’tbelieveit;Leilaseemedhappywhenshelaste-mailed,what,sixorsevenmonthsago.ButtherearenoanswersformehereinGeorgia—Ihavetogobackandtalktoher.Findoutwhy.“TellStephantoreadythejet.Ineedtogohome.”
“Willdo.”“Let’sleaveassoonaswecan.”“I’llbeinthecar.”“Thankyou.”Taylorheadstowardtheexit,raisingthephonetohisear.I’mreeling.Leila.Whatthehell?She’s been out of my life for a couple of years. We’ve shared the occasional e-mail. She got
married.Sheseemedhappy.What’shappened?Iheadback into theboardroomandmakemyapologiesbeforesteppingoutside into thestifling
heat,whereTayloriswaitingintheSuburban.“Theplanewillbereadyinforty-fiveminutes.Wecanheadbacktothehotel,pack,andgo,”he
informsme.“Good,”Irespond,gratefulforthecar’sair-conditioning.“IshouldcallGail.”“I’vetried,butherphonegoestovoicemail.Ithinkshe’sstillatthehospital.”“Okay,I’llcallherlater.”ThisisnotwhatGailneedsonaThursdaymorning.“HowdidLeilaget
intotheapartment?”“Idon’tknow,sir.”Taylormakeseyecontactwithmeintherearviewmirror,hisfaceapologetic
andgrimatonce.“I’llmakeitaprioritytofindout.”
OURBAGSAREPACKEDandwe’reonourwaytoSavannah/HiltonHeadInternationalwhenIcallAna,butfrustratingly,shedoesn’tanswer.Ibrood,staringoutthewindowaswecruisetowardtheairport.Idon’thavetowaitlongforhertoreturnmycall.
“Anastasia.”“Hi,”shesays,hervoicebreathy,andit’ssuchapleasuretohearher.“I have to return to Seattle. Something’s comeup. I amonmyway to the airport now. Please
apologizetoyourmother—Ican’tmakedinner.”“Nothingserious,Ihope?”“IhaveasituationthatIhavetodealwith.I’llseeyoutomorrow.I’llsendTaylortomeetyouat
Sea-TacifIcan’tcomemyself.”“Okay.”Shesighs.“Ihopeyousortoutyoursituation.Haveasafeflight.”IwishIdidn’thavetogo.“You,too,baby,”Iwhisper,andhangupbeforeIchangemymindandstay.
ICALLROSASwetaxitowardtherunway.
“Christian,how’sSavannah?”“I’montheplanecominghome.IhaveaproblemIhavetodealwith.”“SomethingatGEH?”Rosasks,alarmed.“No.It’spersonal.”“AnythingIcando?”“No.I’llseeyoutomorrow.”“Howdidyourmeetinggo?”“Positive.ButIhadtocutitshort.Let’sseewhattheyputinwriting.ImightpreferDetroitjust
becauseit’scooler.”“Theheat’sthatbad?”“Suffocating.I’vegottogo.I’llcallforanupdatelater.”“Safetravels,Christian.”
ONTHEFLIGHTIthrowmyselfintoworktodistractmefromtheproblemwaitingathome.Bythetimewe’vetoucheddownI’vereadthreereportsandwrittenfifteene-mails.Ourcariswaiting,andTaylordrivesthroughthepouringrainstraighttoSeattleFreeHope.IhavetoseeLeilaandfindoutwhatthehellisgoingon.Aswenearthehospitalmyangersurfaces.
Whywouldshedothistome?TherainislashingdownasIclimboutofthecar;thedayisasbleakasmymood.Itakeadeep
breathtocontrolmyfuryandheadthroughthefrontdoors.AtthereceptiondeskIaskforLeilaReed.“Areyoufamily?”Thenurseondutyglowersatme,hermouthpinchedandsour.“No.”Isigh.Thisisgoingtobedifficult.“Well,I’msorry,Ican’thelpyou.”“Shetriedtoopenaveininmyapartment.IthinkI’mentitledtoknowwherethehellsheis,”I
hissthroughmyteeth.“Don’ttakethattonewithme!”shesnaps.Iglareather.I’mnotgoingtogetanywherewiththis
woman.“WhereisyourERdepartment?”“Sir,there’snothingwecandoifyou’renotfamily.”“Don’tworry,I’llfinditmyself,”Igrowl,andstormovertothedoubledoors.IknowIcouldcall
mymother,whowouldexpeditethisforme,butthenI’dhavetoexplainwhat’shappened.TheERisbustlingwithdoctorsandnurses,andtriageis fullofpatients.Iaccostayoungnurse
andgivehermybrightestsmile.“Hello,I’mlookingforLeilaReed—shewasadmittedearliertoday.Canyoutellmewhereshemightbe?”
“Andyouare?”sheasks,aflushcreepingoverherface.“I’mherbrother,”Iliesmoothly,ignoringherreaction.“Thisway,Mr.Reed.”Shebustlesovertothenurses’stationandcheckshercomputer.“She’son
thesecondfloor;BehavioralHealthward.Taketheelevatorsattheendofthecorridor.”“Thanks.” I reward her with a wink and she pushes a stray lock behind her ear, giving me a
flirtatioussmilethatremindsmeofacertaingirlIleftinGeorgia.AsIstepoutoftheelevatoronthesecondfloorIknowsomethingiswrong.Ontheothersideof
whatlooklikelockeddoors,twosecurityguardsandanursearecombingthecorridor,checkingeachroom. My scalp prickles, but I walk over to the reception area, pretending not to notice thecommotion.
“CanIhelpyou?”asksayoungmanwitharingthroughhisnose.“I’mlookingforLeilaReed.I’mherbrother.”Hepales.“Oh.Mr.Reed.Canyoucomewithme?”Ifollowhimtoawaitingroomandsitdownontheplasticchairthathepointsto;Inoteit’sbolted
tothefloor.“Thedoctorwillbewithyoushortly.”“Whycan’tIseeher?”Iask.“Thedoctorwillexplain,”hesays,hisexpressionguarded,andheexitsbeforeIcanaskanyfurther
questions.Shit.PerhapsI’mtoolate.Thethoughtnauseatesme.Igetupandpacethesmallroom,contemplatingacalltoGail,butI
don’thave towait long.A youngmanwith shortdreads anddark, intelligent eyes enters. Isheherdoctor?
“Mr.Reed?”heasks.“Where’sLeila?”Heassessesme for amoment, then sighsand steelshimself. “I’mafraid Idon’t know,”he says.
“She’smanagedtogiveustheslip.”“What?”“She’sgone.HowshegotoutIdon’tknow.”“Gotout?”Iexclaimindisbelief,andsinkontooneofthechairs.Hesitsdownoppositeme.“Yes.She’sdisappeared.We’redoingasearchforhernow.”“She’sstillhere?”“Wedon’tknow.”“Andwhoareyou?”Iask.“I’mDr.Azikiwe,theon-callpsychiatrist.”Helookstooyoungtobeapsychiatrist.“WhatcanyoutellmeaboutLeila?”Iask.“Well,shewasadmittedafterafailedsuicideattempt.Shetriedtoslashoneofherwristsatanex-
boyfriend’shouse.Hishousekeeperbroughtherhere.”Ifeeltheblooddrainingfrommyface.“And?”Iask.Ineedmoreinformation.“That’saboutasmuchasweknow.Shesaiditwasanerrorofjudgment,thatshewasfine,butwe
wantedtokeepherhereunderobservationandaskherfurtherquestions.”“Didyoutalktoher?”“Idid.”“Whydidshedothis?”“Shesaiditwasacryforhelp.Nothingmore.And,havingmadesuchaspectacleofherself,she
was embarrassed andwanted to gohome. She said she didn’twant to kill herself. I believedher. Isuspectitwasjustsuicidalideationonherpart.”
“Howcouldyouletherescape?”Irunmyhandthroughmyhair,tryingtocontainmyfrustration.“Idon’tknowhowshe’sgottenaway.There’llbean internal investigation. If shecontactsyou, I
suggestyouurgehertocomeback.Sheneedshelp.CanIaskyousomequestions?”“Sure,”Iagree,distracted.“Is thereanyhistoryofmental illness inyourfamily?”I frown,thenrememberthathe’s talking
aboutLeila’sfamily.“Idon’tknow.Myfamilyisveryprivateaboutsuchmatters.”Helooksconcerned.“Doyouknowanythingaboutthisex-boyfriend?”“No,”Istate,alittletooquickly.“Haveyoucontactedherhusband?”Thedoctor’seyeswiden.“She’smarried?”“Yes.”“That’snotwhatshetoldus.”“Oh.Well,I’llcallhim.Iwon’twasteanymoreofyourtime.”“ButIhavemorequestionsforyou—”“I’dratherspendmytimelookingforher.She’sobviouslyinabadway.”Irise.“But,thishusband—”“I’llgetintouchwithhim.”Thisisgettingmenowhere.“Butweshoulddothat—”Dr.Azikiwestands.“Ican’thelpyou.Ineedtofindher.”Iheadtothedoor.“Mr.Reed—”“Good-bye,”Imutter,hurryingoutofthewaitingroomandnotbotheringwiththeelevator.Itake
the fire escape stairs two at a time. I loathehospitals.Amemory frommychildhood surfaces: I’msmallandscaredandmute,andthesmellofdisinfectantandbloodcloudsmynostrils.
Ishudder.As I stepoutof thehospital I stand foramomentand let the torrential rainwash thatmemory
away. It’s been a stressful afternoon, but at least the rain is a refreshing relief from the heat inSavannah.TaylorswingsaroundtopickmeupintheSUV.
“Home,”Idirecthim,asIgetbackinthecar.OnceI’vebuckledmyseatbeltIcallWelchfrommycell.
“Mr.Grey,”hegrowls.“Welch,Ihaveaproblem.IneedyoutolocateLeilaReed,néeWilliams.”
GAILISPALEANDquietasshestudiesmewithconcern.“You’renotgoingtofinish,sir?”sheasks.Ishakemyhead.“Wasthefoodokay?”“Yes, of course.” I give her a small smile. “After today’s events, I’m not hungry. How are you
bearingup?”“I’mgood,Mr.Grey.Itwasatotalshock.Ijustwanttokeepbusy.”“Ihearyou.Thanksformakingdinner.Ifyourememberanything,letmeknow.”“Ofcourse.ButlikeIsaid,sheonlywantedtospeaktoyou.”Why?Whatissheexpectingmetodo?“Thanksfornotinvolvingthepolice.”“Thepolicearenotwhatthatgirlneeds.Sheneedshelp.”“Shedoes.IwishIknewwhereshewas.”“You’llfindher,”shesayswithquietconfidence,surprisingme.“Doyouneedanything?”Iask.“No,Mr.Grey.I’mfine.”Shetakestheplatewithmyhalf-eatenmealtothesink.ThenewsfromWelchaboutLeilaisfrustrating.Thetrailhasgonecold.She’snotatthehospital,
and they’re stillmystified as to how she escaped. A small part ofme admires that; shewas alwaysresourceful.Butwhatcouldhavemadehersounhappy?Irestmyheadinmyhands.Whataday—fromthesublimetotheridiculous.SoaringwithAna,andnowthismesstodealwith.TaylorisatalossastohowLeilagotintotheapartment,andGailhasnoidea,either.Apparently,Leilamarchedinto thekitchendemanding toknowwhere Iwas.AndwhenGail said Iwasn’t there, shecriedout“He’sgone,”thenslashedherwristwithaboxcutter.Fortunately,thecutwasn’tdeep.
I glance at Gail cleaning up in the kitchen. My blood runs cold. Leila could have hurt her.PerhapsLeila’sobjectivewastohurtme.Butwhy?Iscrunchmyeyes,tryingtorememberifanythinginour last correspondencemight givemea clue as towhy she’s goneoff the rails. I drawablank,exasperated,andwithasighIheadintomystudy.
AsIsitdownmyphonebuzzeswithatext.Ana?It’sElliot.
HeyHotshot.Wannashootsomepool?
ShootingpoolwithElliotmeanshimcominghereanddrinkingallmybeer.Frankly,I’mnotinthemood.
Working.Nextweek?
Sure.BeforeIhitthebeach.
I’llthrashyou.
Laters.
ItossmyphoneontothedeskandporeoverLeila’sfile,lookingforanythingthatmightgivemeaclueastowheresheis.Ifindherparents’addressandphonenumber,butnothingforherhusband.Whereishe?Whyisn’tshewithhim?
Idon’twanttocallherparentsandalarmthem.IcallWelchandgivehimtheirnumber;hecanfindoutifshe’sbeenintouchwiththem.
WhenIswitchonmyiMacthere’sane-mailfromAna.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:SafeArrival?Date:June2201122:32ESTTo:ChristianGrey
DearSir,
Pleaseletmeknowthatyouhavearrivedsafely.Iamstartingtoworry.Thinkingofyou.
YourAnax
BeforeIknowit,myfingerisonthelittlekissshe’ssentme.Ana.Sappy,Grey.Sappy.Getagrip.
From:ChristianGreySubject:SorryDate:June2201119:36To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Ihavearrivedsafely,andpleaseacceptmyapologiesfornotlettingyouknow.Idon’twanttocauseyouany
worry.It’sheartwarmingtoknowthatyoucareforme.Iamthinkingofyou,too,andaseverlookingforwardto
seeingyoutomorrow.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Ipresssendandwishthatshewasherewithme.Shebrightensupmyhome,mylife…me.Ishakemyheadatmyfancifulthoughtsandlookthroughtherestofmye-mails.
Apingtellsmethere’sanewonefromAna.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:TheSituationDate:June2201122:40ESTTo:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
IthinkitisveryevidentthatIcareforyoudeeply.Howcouldyoudoubtthat?
Ihopeyour“situation”isundercontrol.
YourAnax
P.S.:AreyougoingtotellmewhatIsaidinmysleep?
She cares forme deeply? That’s nice. All at once that foreign feeling, absent all day, stirs andexpandsinmychest.BeneathitisawellofpainIdon’twanttoacknowledgeordealwith.Ittugsatalostmemoryofayoungwomanbrushingoutherlong,darkhair…
Fuck.Don’tgothere,Grey.IrespondtoAna’se-mail—andasadistractiondecidetoteaseher.
From:ChristianGreySubject:PleadingtheFifthDate:June2201119:45To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Ilikeverymuchthatyoucareforme.The“situation”hereisnotyetresolved.
WithregardtoyourP.S.,theanswerisno.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:PleadingInsanityDate:June2201122:48ESTTo:ChristianGrey
Ihopeitwasamusing.ButyoushouldknowIcannotacceptanyresponsibilityforwhatcomesoutofmymouth
whenIamunconscious.Infact—youprobablymisheardme.
Amanofyouradvancedyearsissurelyalittledeaf.
ForthefirsttimesinceIgotbacktoSeattle,Ilaugh.Whatawelcomedistractionsheis.
From:ChristianGreySubject:PleadingGuiltyDate:June2201119:52To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
Sorry,couldyouspeakup?Ican’thearyou.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Herresponseisswift.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:PleadingInsanityAgainDate:June2201122:54ESTTo:ChristianGrey
Youaredrivingmecrazy.
From:ChristianGreySubject:IHopeSo…Date:June2201119:59To:AnastasiaSteele
DearMissSteele,
IintendtodoexactlythatonFridayevening.Lookingforwardtoit.
;)
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
I’llhavetothinkofsomethingextra-specialformylittlefreak.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:GrrrrrrDate:June2201123:02ESTTo:ChristianGrey
Iamofficiallypissedatyou.
Goodnight.
MissA.R.Steele
Whoa.WouldItoleratethisfromanyoneelse?
From:ChristianGreySubject:WildCat
Date:June2201120:05To:AnastasiaSteele
Areyougrowlingatme,MissSteele?
Ipossessacatofmyownforgrowlers.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Shedoesn’trespond.Fiveminutesgobyandnothing.Six…Seven.Damn.Shemeansit.HowcanItellherthatwhileshesleptshesaidshewouldn’tleaveme?She’ll
thinkI’mcrazy.
From:ChristianGreySubject:WhatYouSaidinYourSleep
Date:June2201120:20To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,
I’dratherhearyousaythewordsthatyouutteredinyoursleepwhenyou’reconscious,that’swhyIwon’ttell
you.Gotosleep.You’llneedtoberested,withwhatIhaveinmindforyoutomorrow.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Shedoesn’trespond;Ihopeforonceshe’sdoingwhatshe’stoldandshe’sasleep.BrieflyIthinkofwhatwecoulddotomorrow,butit’stooarousing,soIpushthethoughtasideandconcentrateonmye-mails.
ButIhavetoconfessIfeelalittlelighteraftersomee-mailbanterwithMissSteele.She’sgoodformydark,darksoul.
FRIDAY,JUNE3,2011
Ican’tsleep.It’saftertwoandI’vebeenstaringattheceilingforanhour.Tonightit’snotmysleepingnightmaresthatarekeepingmeawake.It’sawakingone.
LeilaWilliams.Thesmokedetectoronmyceilingiswinkingatme,itsflashinggreenlightmockingme.Hell!Iclosemyeyesandletmythoughtsrunfree.WhywasLeilasuicidal?Whatpossessedher?Herdesperateunhappinessresonateswithayounger,
miserableme. I’m trying to quashmymemories, but the anger and desolation ofmy solitary teenyearsresurfacesanditwon’tgoaway.ItremindsmeofmypainandofhowIlashedoutateveryoneduringmyyouth.Suicidecrossedmymindoften,butIalwaysheldback.IresistedforGrace.Iknewshe’dbedevastated.IknewshewouldblameherselfifItookmylife,andshe’ddonesomuchforme—howcouldIhurtherlikethat?AndafterImetElena…everythingchanged.
Risingfromthebed,Ipushthesedisquietingthoughtstothebackofmymind.Ineedthepiano.IneedAna.If she’d signed the contract and everythinghad gone according to plan, shewould bewithme,
upstairs,asleep.Icouldwakeher,andlosemyselfinher…or,underournewarrangement,shewouldbebesideme,andIcouldfuckherandthenwatchhersleep.
WhatwouldshemakeofLeila?AsIsitdownonthepianobenchIknowthatAnawillnevermeetLeila,whichisagoodthing.I
knowhowshefeelsaboutElena.Lordknowshowshe’dfeelaboutanex…awaywardex.ThisiswhatIcan’treconcile:Leilawashappy,mischievous,andbrightwhenIknewher.Shewas
an excellent submissive; I thought she’d settled down andwas happilymarried.Her e-mails neverindicatedthatanythingwasawry.Whatwentwrong?
Istarttoplay…andmytroubledthoughtsrecedeuntilit’sjustthemusicandme.
Leilaisservicingmycockwithhermouth.Herskilledmouth.Herhandsaretiedbehindherback.Herhairbraided.She’sonherknees.Eyescastdown.Modest.Alluring.Notseeingme.Andsuddenlyshe’sAna.
Anaonherkneesbeforeme.Naked.Beautiful.Mycockinhermouth.ButAna’seyesareonmine.Herblazingblueeyesseeeverything.Seeme.Mysoul.Sheseesthedarknessandthemonsterbeneath.Hereyeswideninhorrorandsuddenlyshedisappears.
Shit!Iwakewithastart,andapainfulerectionthatwanesassoonasIrecallAna’swoundedlookinmydream.
Whatthehell?I rarelyhaveeroticdreams.Whynow? I checkmy alarm; I’vebeaten it by a fewminutes.The
morningsunlightiscreepingbetweenthebuildingsasIrise.AlreadyI’mrestless,nodoubtasaresultofmydisturbingdream,soIdecidetogoforaruntoburnoffsomeenergy.Therearenonewe-mails,nomessages,noupdatesonLeila.TheapartmentisquietasIleave.There’snosignofGailyet.Ihopeshe’srecoveredfromyesterday’sordeal.
Iopentheglassdoorsinthelobby,stepoutsideintoabalmy,sunnymorning,andcarefullyscanthestreet.AsIstartmyrunIcheckdownthealleysandinthedoorwaysIpass,andbehindtheparkedcars,toseeifLeilaisthere.
Whereareyou,LeilaWilliams?IturnthevolumeupontheFooFightersandmyfeetpoundthesidewalk.
OLIVIA IS EXCEPTIONALLY IRRITATING today.She’s spilledmycoffee, dropped an important call, andkeepsmooningatmewithherbigbrowneyes.
“GetRosbackontheline,”Ibarkather.“Betterstill,getheruphere.”Ishutmyofficedoorandgobacktomydesk;Imusttrynottotakemytemperoutonmystaff.
Welchhasnonews,except thatLeila’sparents think theirdaughter is still inPortlandwithherhusband.There’saknockonmydoor.
“Comein.”IhopetoGodit’snotOlivia.Rospokesherheadaround.“Youwantedtoseeme?”“Yes.Sure.Comein.WherearewewithWoods?”
ROS EXITS JUST BEFORE ten. All is on track:Woods has decided to accept the deal, and the aid forDarfurwill soonbeon the road toMunich inpreparation for theairlift.There’snonewsyet fromSavannahabouttheiroffer.
Icheckmyinboxandfindawelcomee-mailfromAna.
From:AnastasiaSteele
Subject:HomewardBound
Date:June3201112:53ESTTo:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grey,
Iamonceagainensconcedinfirstclass,forwhichIthankyou.IamcountingtheminutesuntilIseeyouthis
eveningandperhapstorturingthetruthoutofyouaboutmynocturnaladmissions.
YourAnax
Torturingme?Oh,MissSteele,Ithinkitwillbetheotherwayaround.AsIhaveagreatdealtodo,Ikeepmyreplyshort.
From:ChristianGreySubject:HomewardBound
Date:June3201109:58To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,Ilookforwardtoseeingyou.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
ButAnaisnotsatisfied.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:HomewardBound
Date:June3201113:01ESTTo:ChristianGrey
DearestMr.Grey,
Ihopeeverythingisokayre“thesituation.”Thetoneofyoure-mailisworrying.
Anax
AtleastIstillearnedakiss.Surelysheshouldbeairbornebynow?
From:ChristianGreySubject:HomewardBound
Date:June3201110:04To:AnastasiaSteele
Anastasia,
Thesituationcouldbebetter.Haveyoutakenoffyet?Ifso,youshouldnotbee-mailing.Youareputtingyourself
atrisk,indirectcontraventionoftheruleregardingyourpersonalsafety.ImeantwhatIsaidaboutpunishments.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
I’mabouttocallWelchforanupdate,butthere’saping—Anaagain.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:OverreactionDate:June3201113:06ESTTo:ChristianGrey
DearMr.Grumpy,
Theaircraftdoorsarestillopen.Wearedelayedbutonlybytenminutes.Mywelfareandthatofthepassengers
aroundmeisvouchsafed.Youmaystowyourtwitchypalmfornow.
MissSteele
Areluctantsmiletugsatmylips.Mr.Grumpy,eh?Andnokiss.Ohdear.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Apologies—TwitchyPalmStowed
Date:June3201110:08To:AnastasiaSteele
Imissyouandyoursmartmouth,MissSteele.
Iwantyousafelyhome.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:ApologyAcceptedDate:June3201113:10ESTTo:ChristianGrey
Theyareshuttingthedoors.Youwon’thearanotherpeepfromme,especiallygivenyourdeafness.
Laters.
Anax
Mykissisback.Well,that’sarelief.Grudgingly,IdragmyselfawayfromthecomputerscreenandpickupmyphonetocallWelch.
ATONEO’CLOCKIdeclineAndrea’sofferoflunchatmydesk.Ineedtogetout.Thewallsofmyofficeareclosinginonme,andIthinkit’sbecausethere’sbeennonewsaboutLeila.
I’mworriedabouther.Hell,shecametoseeme.Shedecidedtousemyhomeasherstage.HowcouldInot take thispersonally?Whydidn’t shee-mailmeorphone?If shewas in trouble, Icouldhavehelped.Iwouldhavehelped—I’vedoneitbefore.
I need some fresh air. I march past Olivia and Andrea, who both look busy, though I catchAndrea’spuzzledlookasIstepintotheelevator.
Outside,it’sabright,bustlingafternoon.ItakeadeepbreathanddetectthesoothingtangofsaltwaterfromtheSound.PerhapsIshouldtaketherestofthedayoff?ButIcan’t.Ihaveameetingwiththemayor this afternoon. It’s irritating—I’m seeing him tomorrow at theChamber ofCommercegala.
Thegala!SuddenlyIhaveanidea,andwitharenewedsenseofpurposeIheadtowardasmallstoreIknow.
AFTERMYMEETINGATthemayor’soffice,IwalkthetenorsoblocksbacktoEscala;TaylorhasgonetocollectAnafromtheairport.GailisinthekitchenwhenIenterthelivingroom.
“Goodevening,Mr.Grey.”“Hi,Gail.Howwasyourday?”“Good,thankyou,sir.”“Feelingbetter?”“Yes, sir.Theclothesarrived forMissSteele—Iunpackedthemandhungthemin thecloset in
herroom.”“Great.NosignofLeila?”Dumbquestion:Gailwouldhavecalledme.“No,sir.Thisalsoarrived.”Sheholdsupasmallredstorebag.“Good.”Itakethebagfromher,ignoringthedelightedtwinkleinhereye.“Howmanyforsupperthisevening?”“Two,thanks.AndGail—”“Sir?”“Canyouputthesatinsheetsontheplayroombed?”IreallyhopetogetAnainthereatsomepointovertheweekend.“Yes,Mr.Grey,”shesays,her
tonealittlesurprised.Sheturnsbacktowhatevershe’sconjuringinthekitchen,leavingmealittlebaffledbyherbehavior.
MaybeGaildoesn’tapprove,butit’swhatIwantfromAna.In my study I take the Cartier box from its bag. It’s a present for Ana, which I’ll give to her
tomorrow in time for thegala: apairofearrings.Simple.Elegant.Beautiful. Just likeher. I smile;eveninherchucksandjeansshehasacertaingaminecharm.
I hope she acceptsmy gift. Asmy submissive, she’d have no choice, but under our alternativearrangement,Idon’tknowwhatherreactionwillbe.Whatevertheoutcome,itwillbeinteresting.Shealwayssurprisesme.AsIputtheboxinmydeskdrawerapingonmycomputerdistractsme.Barney’slatesttabletdesignsareinmyinbox,andI’meagertoseethem.
Fiveminuteslater,Welchcalls.“Mr.Grey,”hewheezes.“Yes.Whatnews?”“IspokewithRussellReed,Mrs.Reed’shusband.”“And?” Immediately I’m agitated. I storm out of my study and across the living room to the
windows.“Hesayshiswifeisawayvisitingherparents,”Welchreports.“What?”“Precisely.”WelchsoundsaspissedasIam.Seeing Seattle at my feet, knowing Mrs. Reed aka Leila Williams is out there somewhere,
increasesmyirritation.Irakemyfingersthroughmyhair.“Maybethat’swhatshetoldhim.”“Maybe,”hesays.“Butwe’vefoundnothingsofar.”“Notrace?”Ican’tbelieveshecouldjustdisappear.“Nothing.ButifshesomuchasusesanATM,cashesacheck,orlogsintohersocialmedia,we’ll
findher.”“Okay.”“We’dliketoscourtheCCTVfootagefromaroundthehospital.It’sgoingtocostmoneyandtake
alittlelonger.Isthatacceptable?”“Yes.”Atinglepricklesmyscalp—notfromthecall.ForsomeunknownreasonIsenseI’mbeing
watched. Turning, I see Ana standing on the threshold of the room, scrutinizing me, her browfurrowedandherlipspensive,andshe’swearingashort,shortskirt.She’salleyesandlegs…especiallylegs.Iimaginethemwrappedaroundmywaist.
Desire,rawandreal,firesmybloodasIstare.“We’llgetrightonit,”Welchsays.Ifinishupwithhim,myeyesfixedonAna’s,andIprowltowardher,strippingoffmyjacketand
tieandtossingthemontothesofa.Ana.Iwrapmyarmsaroundher, tuggingatherponytail, liftinghereager lips tomine.She tastesof
heavenandhomeandfallandAna.HerscentinvadesmynostrilsasItakeeverythingherwarm,sweetmouthhastooffer.Mybodyhardenswithexpectationandhungerasourtonguesentwine.Iwanttolosemyselfinher,toforgetabouttheshittyendtomyweek,forgetabouteverythingbuther.
Mylipsfeverishagainsthers,Itugthehairtiefromherponytailasherfingersknotinmine.I’msuddenlyoverwhelmedbymyneed,desperateforher.AndIpullaway,staringdownintoafacethat’sdazedwithpassion.
Ifeelthesameway.Whatisshedoingtome?“What’swrong?”shewhispers.Andtheanswerisclear,ringinginmyhead.I’vemissedyou.“I’msogladyou’reback.Showerwithme.Now.”“Yes,”sheresponds,hervoicehoarse.Itakeherhandandweheadtomybathroom.Iturnonthe
shower,thenfaceher.She’sgorgeous,hereyesbrightandgleamingwithanticipation,asshewatchesme.Mygazerakesdownherbodytohernakedlegs.I’veneverseenherinsuchashortskirt,withsomuchofherfleshondisplay,andI’mnotsureIapprove.She’sformyeyesonly.
“Ilikeyourskirt.It’sveryshort.”Tooshort.“Youhavegreatlegs.”Steppingoutofmyshoes,Itakeoffmysocks,andwithoutbreakingeyecontact,she,too,slipsoffhershoes.
Fucktheshower.Iwanthernow.Stepping towardher, I claspherhead, andwe stepback so she’s against the tiledwall, her lips
partingassheinhales.Holdingherfaceandlacingmyfingersintoherhair,Ikissher:hercheek,herthroat,hermouth.She’snectarandIcan’tgetenough.Herbreathcatchesinherthroatandshegraspsmy arms, but ather touch there’snoprotest from thedarknesswithin.There’s justAna, in allherbeautyandinnocence,kissingmebackwithafervorthatmatchesmine.
Mybloodisthickwithdesire,myerectionpainful.“Iwantyounow.Here…fast,hard,”Imurmur,asmyhandrunsuphernakedthighbeneathherskirt.“Areyoustillbleeding?”
“No.”“Good.”Ipushherskirtupoverherhips,hookboththumbsintohercottonpantiesanddropto
thefloor,kneeling,slippingthepantiesdownherlegs.ShegaspswhenIgrabherhipsandkiss the sweet junctionbeneathherpubichair.Movingmy
handstothebacksofherthighs,Ipartherlegs,exposingherclitoristomytongue.WhenIstartmysensualassaulther fingersdive intomyhair.My tongue tormentsher,and shemoansand tipsherheadbackagainstthewall.
Shesmellsexquisite.Shetastesbetter.As she purrs she tilts her pelvis toward my invading, insistent tongue, and her legs begin to
tremble.Enough.Iwanttocomeinsideher.Itwillbemyskinagainsther skinagain, like inSavannah.Releasingher, I standandgraspher
face,capturinghersurprisedanddisappointedmouthwithmine,kissingherhard.Iunzipmyflyandlifther,clutchingherunderher thighs. “Wrapyour legsaroundme,baby.”Myvoice is roughandurgent.Assoonasshedoes,Ithrustforward,slidingintoher.
She’smine.She’sheaven.Clingingtome,shewhimpersasIplungeintoher—slowlyatfirst,thenbuildingasmybodytakes
control,drivingmeforward,drivingmeintoher,fasterandfaster,harderandharder,myfaceatherthroat. Shemoans and I feel her quicken aroundme, and I’m lost, in her, in us, as she climaxes,cryingoutherrelease.ThefeelofherpulsingaroundmetipsmeovertheedgeandIcomedeepandhardinsideher,growlingoutagarbledversionofhername.
Ikissherthroat,notwantingtowithdraw,waitingforhertocalm.We’reinacloudofsteamfromtheshower,andmyshirtandpantsarestickingtomybody,butIdon’tcare.Ana’sbreathingslows,andshefeelsweightierinmyarmsassherelaxes.HerexpressioniswantonanddazedasIpulloutofher,soIholdherfastwhileshefindsherfeet.Herlipsriseinawinsomesmile.“Youseempleasedtoseeme,”shesays.
“Yes,MissSteele,Ithinkmypleasureisprettyself-evident.Come—letmegetyouintheshower.”I undress quickly, andwhen I’m naked I begin undoing the buttons on Ana’s blouse.Her eyes
movefrommyfingerstomyface.“Howwasyourjourney?”Iask.“Fine,thankyou,”shesays,hervoicealittlethroaty.“Thanksonceagainforfirstclass.Itreallyis
amuchnicerwaytotravel.”Shetakesaquickbreath,asifshe’ssteelingherself.“Ihavesomenews,”shesays.
“Oh?”Whatnow?Iremoveherblouseanddeposititontopofmyclothes.“Ihaveajob.”Shesoundsreticent.Why? Did she think I’d be angry? Of course she’s found a job. Pride swells in my chest.
“Congratulations,MissSteele.Nowwillyoutellmewhere?”Iaskwithasmile.“Youdon’tknow?”“WhywouldIknow?”“Withyourstalkingcapabilities,Ithoughtyoumighthave—”Shestopstostudymyface.“Anastasia,Iwouldn’tdreamofinterferinginyourcareer.Unlessyouaskmeto,ofcourse.”“Soyouhavenoideawhichcompany?”“No.IknowtherearefourpublishingcompaniesinSeattle—soIamassumingit’soneofthem.”“SIP,”sheannounces.“Oh, the smallone,good.Welldone.” It’s thecompany thatRos identifiedas ripe for takeover.
Thiswillbeeasy.IkissAna’sforehead.“Clevergirl.Whendoyoustart?”“Monday.”“Thatsoon,eh?I’dbettertakeadvantageofyouwhileIstillcan.Turnaround.”Sheobeys immediately. I removeherbraand skirt, thencupherbehindandkissher shoulder.
Leaning against her, I nuzzle her hair. Her scent lingers in my nostrils, soothing, familiar, anduniquelyAna.Thefeelofherbodyagainstmineisbothcalmingandenticing.Shereallyisthewholepackage.
“You intoxicateme,Miss Steele, and you calmme. Such a heady combination.”Grateful thatshe’shere,Ikissherhair,thentakeherhandandpullherintothehotshower.
“Ow,”shesqueaksandcloseshereyes,flinchingunderthesteamycascade.“It’sonlya littlehotwater.” I grindownather.Openingoneeye, she liftsherchinand slowly
surrenderstotheheat.“Turnaround,”Iorder.“Iwanttowashyou.”Shecomplies,andIsqueezesomeshowergelonmy
hand,workupalather,andbegintomassagehershoulders.
“Ihavesomethingelsetotellyou,”shesays,hershoulderstensing.“Ohyes?”Ikeepmyvoicemild.Whyisshetense?Myhandsglideoverherchesttoherbeautiful
breasts.“MyfriendJosé’sphotographyshowisopeningThursdayinPortland.”“Yes,whataboutit?”Thephotographeragain?“IsaidIwouldgo.Doyouwanttocomewithme?”Thewordscomeinarush,asifshe’sanxious
togetthemout.Aninvitation?I’mstunned.Ionlygetinvitationsfrommyfamily,fromwork,andfromElena.“Whattime?”“Theopeningisatseventhirty.”Thiswill countasmore, surely. I kissher ear andwhisper, “Okay.”Her shoulders soften as she
leansbackagainstme.SheseemsrelievedandI’mnotsurewhethertobeamusedorannoyed.AmIreallythatunapproachable?
“Wereyounervousaboutaskingme?”“Yes.Howcanyoutell?”“Anastasia,yourwholebody’sjustrelaxed.”Imaskmyirritation.“Well,youjustseemtobe,um…onthejealousside.”Yes.I’mjealous.ThethoughtofAnawithanyoneelseis…unsettling.Veryunsettling.“Yes,Iam.
Andyou’ddowelltorememberthat.Butthankyouforasking.We’lltakeCharlieTango.”Sheflashesmeaquickgrinasmyhandsslidedownherbody,thebodyshe’sgiventomeandno
oneelse.“CanIwashyou?”sheasks,divertingme.“Idon’tthinkso.”IkissherneckasIrinseherback.“Willyoueverletmetouchyou?”Hervoiceisagentleentreaty,butitdoesn’tstopthedarkness
that’sswirlingsuddenlyfromnowhereandtighteningaroundmythroat.No.I will it away, cupping and concentrating on Ana’s ass, her fucking glorious behind.My body
respondsonaprimallevel—atwarwiththedarkness.Ineedher.Ineedhertochasemyfearaway.“Putyourhandsonthewall,Anastasia.I’mgoingtotakeyouagain,”Iwhisper,andwithastartled
glanceatme,shesplaysherhandsonthetiles.Igrabherhips,pullingherbackfromthewall.“Holdfast,Anastasia,”Iwarn,asthewaterstreamsoverherback.
Shebendsherheadandbracesherselfasmyhandssweepthroughherpubichair.Shesquirms,herbehindbrushingmyarousal.
Fuck!Andlikethat,myresidualfearmeltsaway.“Do you want this?” I ask as my fingers tease her. In answer she wiggles her butt against my
erection,makingmesmile.“Tellme,”Idemand,myvoicestrained.“Yes.”Heragreementslicesthroughthepouringwater,keepingthedarknessatbay.Oh,baby.She’sstillwetfromearlier—fromme,fromher—Idon’tknow.InthemomentIgiveasilentword
ofthankstoDr.Greene:nomorecondoms.IeaseintoAnaandslowly,deliberatelymakehermineagain.
IWRAPHER IN abathrobeandkissher soundly. “Dryyourhair,” Iorder,handingherahairdryer Ineveruse.“Areyouhungry?”
“Famished,”sheadmits,andIdon’tknowifshemeansitorifshe’ssaiditmerelytopleaseme.ButpleasedIam.
“Great.Me, too. I’ll check whereMrs. Jones is with dinner. You have tenminutes. Don’t getdressed.”Ikissheroncemoreandpadouttothekitchen.
Gailiswashingsomethingatthesink.ShelooksupasIpeeroverhershoulder.“Clams,Mr.Grey,”shesays.Delicious.PastaalleVongole,oneofmyfavorites.“Tenminutes?”Iask.“Twelve,”shesays.“Great.”ShegivesmealookasIheadintomystudy.Iignoreit.She’sseenmeinlessthanmybathrobe
before—whatthehellisherproblem?Icheckthroughsomee-mailsandmyphonetoseeifthere’sanynewsaboutLeila.Nothing—but
sinceAna’sarrival,Idon’tfeelashopelessasIdidearlier.AnaentersthekitchenatthesametimethatIdo,lurednodoubtbythetantalizingsmellofour
dinner.WhensheseesMrs.Jonessheclutchestheneckofherbathrobe.“Justintime,”Gailsays,servingourmealintwolargebowlsattheplacesettingsonthecounter.“Sit.”Ipointtooneofthebarstools.Ana’sanxiouseyespassfrommetoMrs.Jones.She’sself-conscious.Baby,Ihavestaff.Getoverit.“Wine?”Ioffer,todistracther.“Please,”shesays,soundingreservedasshetakesherseat.IopenabottleofSancerreandpourtwosmallglasses.“There’scheeseinthefridgeifyou’dlike,sir,”Gailsays.Inod,andsheexitstheroom,muchto
Ana’srelief.Itakemyseat.“Cheers.”Iraisemyglass.“Cheers,”Ana replies, and the crystal glasses sing aswe clink.She takes a bite ofher food and
makesanappreciativenoiseinthebackofherthroat.Perhapssheisfamished.“Areyougoingtotellme?”sheasks.“Tellyouwhat?”Mrs.Joneshasoutdoneherself;thepastatastesdelicious.“WhatIsaidinmysleep.”Ishakemyhead.“Eatup.YouknowIlikewatchingyoueat.”Shepoutswithmockexasperation.“Youaresopervy,”sheexclaimsunderherbreath.
Oh,baby,youhavenoidea.Andathoughtspringstomind:maybeweshouldexploresomethingnewintheplayroomtonight.Somethingfun.
“Tellmeaboutthisfriendofyours,”Iask.“Myfriend?”“Thephotographer.”Ikeepmyvoicelight,butsheregardsmewithafleetingfrown.“Well,wemetthefirstdayofcollege.He’sanengineeringmajor,buthispassionisphotography.”“And?”“That’sit.”Herevasiveanswersareirritating.“Nothingelse?”Shetossesherhairoverhershoulder.“We’vebecomegoodfriends.ItturnsoutmydadandJosé’s
dadservedtogetherinthemilitarybeforeIwasborn.They’vegottenbackintouch,andthey’renowbestbuds.”
Oh.“Yourdadandhisdad?”“Yeah.”Shetwirlsmorepastaaroundherfork.“Isee.”“Thistastesdelicious.”Shegivesmeacontentedsmile,andherrobegapesalittle,revealingthe
swellofherbreast.Thesightstirsmycock.“Howareyoufeeling?”Iask.“Fine,”shesays.“Upformore?”“More?”“Morewine?”Moresex?Intheplayroom?“Asmallglass,please.”IpourheralittlemoreSancerre.Idon’twanteitherofustodrinktoomuchifwe’regoingtoplay.“How’sthe,um…situationthatbroughtyoutoSeattle?”Leila. Shit. This I do not want to discuss. “Out of hand. But nothing for you to worry about,
Anastasia.Ihaveplansforyouthisevening.”Iwanttoseeifwecanplaythisso-calledarrangementofoursbothways.“Oh?”“Yes.Iwantyoureadyandwaitinginmyplayroominfifteenminutes.”Istandup,watchingher
closely to gaugeher reaction.She takes aquick sipofherwine,herpupilswidening. “Youcangetready inyour room. Incidentally, thewalk-incloset isnow fullofclothes foryou. Idon’twantanyargumentsaboutthem.”
Her mouth sets in a surprised o. And I give her a stern look, daring her to argue with me.Remarkably,shesaysnothing,andIheadofftomystudytosendaquicke-mailtoRostellingherIwanttostarttheprocesstoacquireSIPassoonaspossible.
Iscanacoupleofworke-mails,butseenothinginmyinboxaboutMrs.Reed.IputthoughtsofLeilaoutofmymind;she’spreoccupiedmeforthelasttwenty-fourhours.TonightI’mgoingtofocusonAna—andhavesomefun.
WhenIreturntothekitchenAna’sdisappeared;Ipresumeshe’sgettingreadyupstairs.In my closet I removemy robe and slip onmy favorite jeans. As I do, images of Ana in my
bathroomcometomind—her flawlessback, thenherhandspressedagainst the tileswhile I fuckedher.
Boy,thegirlhasstamina.Let’sseehowmuch.With a sense of exhilaration I collect my iPod from the living room and bolt upstairs to the
playroom.When I find Ana kneeling as she should be at the entrance facing the room—eyes down, legs
parted,andwearingonlyherpanties—myfirstfeelingisoneofrelief.She’sstillhere;she’sgame.Mysecondispride:shehasfollowedmyinstructionstotheletter.Mysmileishardtohide.MissSteeledoesnotbackdownfromachallenge.Closingthedoorbehindme,Inotethatherbathrobehasbeenhunguponthepeg.Iwalkpasther
barefootanddepositmyiPodonthechest.I’vedecidedthatI’mgoingtodepriveherofallhersensesbuttouch,andseehowshefareswiththat.Thebedhasbeenmadeupwithsatinsheets.
Andtheleathershacklesareinplace.AtthechestItakeoutahairtie,ablindfold,afurglove,earbuds,andthehandytransmitterthat
BarneydesignedformyiPod.Ilayouttheitemsinaneatrow,pluggingthetransmitterintothetopofthe iPod, lettingAnawait.Anticipation is half the buildup to a scene.Once I’m satisfied I go andstand over her. Ana’s head is bowed, the ambient light burnishing her hair. She looksmodest andbeautiful,theepitomeofasubmissive.
“You look lovely.” I cupher face and tilt her headupuntil blue eyesmeet gray. “You are onebeautifulwoman,Anastasia.Andyou’reallmine,”Iwhisper.“Standup.”
She’salittlestiffasshegetstoherfeet.“Lookatme,”Iorder,andwhenIlookintohereyesIknowI could drown in her serious, rapt expression. I’ve got her full attention. “We don’t have a signedcontract,Anastasia.Butwe’vediscussedlimits.AndIwanttoreiteratewehavesafewords,okay?”
Sheblinksacoupleoftimes,butremainsmute.“Whatarethey?”Idemand.Shehesitates.Oh,thiswillneverdo.“Whatarethesafewords,Anastasia?”“Yellow.”“And?”“Red.”“Rememberthose.”Sheraisesaneyebrowinobviousscorn,andisabouttosaysomething.Ohno.Notinmyplayroom.“Don’tstartwithyoursmartmouthinhere,MissSteele.OrIwillfuckitwithyouonyourknees.
Doyouunderstand?”Aspleasingasthatthoughtis,herobedienceiswhatIwantrightnow.Sheswallowsherchagrin.“Well?”“Yes,Sir,”shesaysquickly.“Goodgirl.Myintentionisnotthatyoushouldusethesafewordbecauseyou’reinpain.WhatI
intendtodotoyouwillbeintense.Veryintense,andyouhavetoguideme.Doyouunderstand?”Herfaceremainsimpassive,givingnothingaway.“Thisisabouttouch,Anastasia.Youwillnotbeabletoseemeorhearme.Butyou’llbeableto
feelme.” Ignoringherconfounded look, I turn to theaudioplayerabove thechestandswitch it toauxiliarymode.
Ijusthavetochooseasong;andinthatmomentIrecallourconversationinthecaraftershe’dsleptinmybedatTheHeathman.Let’sseeifshelikessomeTudorchoralmusic.
“Iamgoingtotieyoutothatbed,Anastasia.ButI’mgoingtoblindfoldyoufirstand”—IshowhertheiPod—“youwillnotbeabletohearme.AllyouwillhearisthemusicI’mgoingtoplayforyou.”
Ithinkit’ssurpriseIseeregisteringonherface,butI’mnotsure.“Come.”Ileadhertothefootofthebed.“Standhere.”Leaningdown,Ibreatheinhersweetscent
andwhisperinherear,“Waithere.Keepyoureyesonthebed.Pictureyourselflyinghere,boundandtotallyatmymercy.”
Shesucksinherbreath.Yes,baby.Thinkaboutit.Iresistthetemptationtoplantasoftkissonhershoulder.Ineedtobraid
herhair firstand fetcha flogger.Fromthe topof thechest Igrab thehair tie,and fromthe rack Iselectmyfavoriteflogger,whichIstuffintothebackpocketofmyjeans.
WhenIreturntostandbehindher,Igentlytakeherhairandbraidit.“WhileIlikeyourpigtails,Anastasia,Iamimpatienttohaveyourightnow.Soonewillhavetodo.”Ifastenandtugonthebraidsoshe’sforcedtostepbackagainstme.Windingtheendaroundmywrist,Ipulltotheright,bendingher head to expose her neck. I runmy nose from her earlobe to her shoulder, sucking and bitinggently.
Hmm…Shesmellssogood.Sheshiversandhumsdeepinherthroat.“Hush, now,” I caution, and taking the flogger frommy pocket, I reach around her,my arms
brushinghers,andshowittoher.Ihearhercatchherbreathandseeherfingerstwitch.“Touchit,”Iwhisper,knowingthat’swhatshewants.Sheraisesherhand,pauses, thenrunsher
fingersthroughthesoftsuedetails.It’sarousing.“Iwillusethis.Itwillnothurt,butitwillbringyourbloodtothesurfaceofyourskinandmakeyouverysensitive.Whatarethesafewords,Anastasia?”
“Um…‘yellow’and‘red,’Sir,”shemurmurs,transfixedbytheflogger.“Goodgirl.Remember,mostofyourfearisinyourmind.”Idropthefloggeronthebedandbrush
myfingersdownhersides,pastthesoftswellofherhips,andslipthemintoherpanties.“Youwon’tbeneedingthese.”Idragthemdownherlegsandkneelbehindher.Shegrabsholdofthepillartoshuffle
awkwardlyoutofherunderwear.“Stand still,” I command, and kiss her behind, gently nipping each cheek. “Now lie down.
Faceup.”Ispankheronce,andshejumps, startled,andscurriesonto thebed.She liesdownfacingme,hereyesonmine,glowingwithexcitement—andalittletrepidation,Ithink.
“Handsaboveyourhead.”Shedoesasshe’stold.Iretrievetheearbuds,blindfold,iPod,andtheremotefromatopthechestof
drawers.Sittingbesideheronthebed,IshowhertheiPodwiththetransmitter.Herlookdartsfrommyfacetothedevicesandbackagain.
“Thissendswhat’splayingontheiPodtothesystemintheroom.Icanhearwhatyou’rehearing,andIhavearemotecontrolunitforit.”
Once she’s seeneverything, I insert theearbuds intoherearsandplace the iPodon thepillow.“Liftyourhead.”Sheobeys,andIsliptheblindfoldoverhereyes.Rising,Itakeherlefthandandcuffher wrist to the leather shackle at the top corner of the bed. I let my fingers linger down heroutstretchedarmandshewrigglesinresponse.AsIwalkslowlyaroundthebed,herheadfollowsthesoundofmyfootsteps;Irepeattheprocesswithherrighthand,cuffingherwrist.
Ana’sbreathingalters,becomingerraticandfastthroughpartedlips.Aflushcreepsupherchest,andshesquirmsandliftsherhipsinanticipation.
Good.At the bottom of the bed I grab both her ankles. “Lift your head again,” I order. She does so
immediately,andIdragherdownthebedsothatherarmsarefullyextended.Sheletsoutaquietmoanandliftsherhipsoncemore.Icuffeachofheranklestothecorrespondingcornerofthebedsothatshe’sspread-eagledbefore
meandIstepbacktoadmiretheview.Fuck.Hassheeverlookedthishot?She’stotallyandwillinglyatmymercy.Theknowledgeisintoxicating,andIstandforamoment
tomarvelathergenerosityandcourage.Idragmyselfawayfromthespellbindingsightandfromthechestofdrawerscollecttherabbit-fur
glove.BeforeIputitonIpressplayontheremote;there’sabriefhiss,andthentheforty-partmotetbegins,thesinger’sangelicvoiceringingthroughtheplayroomandoverthedelectableMissSteele.
Shestillsasshelistens.AndIwalkaroundthebed,drinkingherin.Reachingout,Icaressherneckwiththeglove.Sheinhalessharplyandpullsathershackles,but
shedoesn’tcryoutortellmetostop.SlowlyIrunmyglovedhanddownherthroat,overhersternum,thenoverherbreasts,enjoyingherrestrainedsquirm.Circlingherbreasts,Igentlytugoneachofhernipples,andhermoanofappreciationencouragesmetoheadsouth.Ataleisurely,deliberatepaceIexploreherbody:herbelly,herhips, theapexofher thighs,anddowneach leg.Themusic swells,more voices joining the choir in perfect counterpoint tomymoving hand. I watch hermouth todeterminehowshe’sfeeling;nowshegapesinpleasure,nowshebitesherlip.WhenIrunmyhandoverhersexsheclenchesherbehind,pushingherselfintomyhand.
ThoughInormallylikehertokeepstill,themovementpleasesme.MissSteeleisenjoyingthis.She’sgreedy.WhenIbrushherbreastsagainhernippleshardeninthewakeoftheglove.Yes.NowthatherskinissensitizedIremovethegloveandpickuptheflogger.WithgreatcareItrail
the beaded ends over her skin, following the same pattern: over her chest, her breasts, her belly,throughherpubichair,anddownherlegs.AsmorechoristerslendtheirvoicestothemotetIliftthehandleofthefloggerandflickthetressesacrossherbelly.Shecriesout,Ithinkinsurprise,butshedoesn’tsafe-word.Igiveheramomenttoabsorbthesensation,thendoitagain—alittleharderthistime.
Shepullsathershacklesandcallsoutoncemore,agarbledcry—butit’snotthesafeword.Ilashthefloggeroverherbreasts,andshetiltsherheadbackandletsoutasoundlesscry,hermouthslackasshewrithesontheredsatin.
Stillnosafeword.Anaisembracingherinnerfreak.IfeelgiddywithdelightasIrainthetailsupanddownherbody,watchingherskinwarmunder
theirbite.Whenthechoristerspause,sodoI.Christ.Shelooksstunning.Ibeginagainasthemusiccrescendoes,allthevoicessingingtogether;Iflickthefloggeroverher,
againandagain,andshewrithesbeneatheachblow.WhenthelastnoteringsthroughtheroomIstop,droppingthefloggeronthefloor.I’mbreathless,
pantingwithwantandneed.Fuck.Shelaysonthebed,helpless,herskinprettyinpink,andshe’spanting,too.Oh,baby.Iclimbonto thebedbetweenher legsandcrawloverher,holdingmyselfaboveher.When the
musicstartsagain,thelonevoicesingingasweetseraphicnote,Ifollowthesamepatternasthegloveandtheflogger—butthistimewithmymouth,kissingandsuckingandworshippingeveryinchofherbody.Iteaseeachofhernipplesuntiltheyareglisteningwithmysalivaandstandingatattention.Shewrithesasmuchas therestraintsallowandgroansbeneathme.Mytonguetrailsdowntoherbelly,aroundhernavel, lavingher.Tastingher.Veneratingher.Movingdown, throughherpubichair toher sweet, exposed clitoris that’s begging for the touch ofmy tongue. Around and around I swirl,drinkinginherscent,drinkinginherreaction,untilIfeelhertremblebeneathme.
Ohno.Notyet,Ana.Notyet.Istopandshehuffshervoicelessdisappointment.Ikneelupbetweenherlegsandpullopenmyfly,freeingmyerection.Then,leaningover,Igently
undotheleftshacklearoundherankle.Shecurlsherlegaroundmeinalong-limbedcaresswhileIrelease her other ankle.Once she’s free Imassage and knead the life back into her legs, from hercalves up to her thighs. Shewriggles beneathme, raising her hips in perfect rhythm to theTallismotet,asmythumbsworktheirwayupherinnerthighs,whicharedewyfromherarousal.
Istifleagrowlandgraspherhips,liftingherfromthebed,andinoneswift,roughmoveIbury
myselfinsideher.Fuck.She’sslickandhotandwetandherbodypulsesaroundme,ontheedge.No.Toosoon.Waytoosoon.Istop,holdingmyselfstilloverherandinher,whilesweatbeadsonmybrow.“Please,”shecallsout,andItightenmyholdonherasIquelltheurgetomoveandlosemyselfin
her.ClosingmyeyessoIcan’tseeherlaidoutbeneathmeinallherwonder,Iconcentrateonthemusic;andonceI’mincontrolagain,slowlyIstarttomove.AstheintensityofthechoralpiecebuildsIslowlyincreasemypace,matchingthepowerandrhythmofthemusic,cherishingeverytightinchinsideher.
Shefistsherhandsandtiltsherheadbackandmoans.Yes.“Please,”shepleadsbetweengrittedteeth.Ihearyou,baby.Layingherbackdownonthebed,Istretchoutoverher,supportingmyweightonmyelbows,and
Ifollowtherhythm,thrustingintoherandlosingmyselfinherandthemusic.Sweet,braveAna.Sweatglidesdownmyback.Comeon,baby.Please.And finally she explodes aroundme, shouting out her release andpushingme into an intense,
drainingclimaxwhereIloseallsenseofself.Icollapseontopofherasmyworldshiftsandrealigns,leavingthatunfamiliaremotionswirlinginmychest,consumingme.
Ishakemyhead,tryingtochaseawaytheominousandconfusingfeeling.Reachingup,Igrabtheremoteandswitchoffthemusic.
NomoreTallis.Themusicdefinitelycontributed towhatwasalmostareligiousexperience. I frown,attempting
butfailingtogetahandleonmyfeelings.IslideoutofAnaandstretchtoreleaseherfromeachcuff.Shesighsassheflexesherfingers,andgentlyIremovetheblindfoldandtheearbuds.Bigblueeyesblinkupatme.“Hi,”Iwhisper.“Hi,yourself,”shesays,playfulandbashful.Herresponseisdelightfuland,leaningdown,Iplant
atenderkissonherlips.“Welldone,you.”Myvoiceisfilledwithpride.Shedidit.Shetookit.Shetookitall.“Turnover.”Hereyeswideninalarm.“I’mjustgoingtorubyourshoulders.”“Oh,okay.”
Sherollsoverandflopsdownonthebedwithhereyesclosed.I sitastrideherandmassagehershoulders.
Apleasurablerumbleresonatesdeepinherthroat.“Whatwasthatmusic?”sheasks.“It’scalledSpeminAlium,aforty-partmotetbyThomasTallis.”“Itwas…overwhelming.”“I’vealwayswantedtofucktoit.”“Notanotherfirst,Mr.Grey?”Igrin.“Indeed,MissSteele.”“Well,it’sthefirsttimeI’vefuckedtoit,too,”shesays,hervoicebetrayingherfatigue.“YouandI,we’regivingeachothermanyfirsts.”“WhatdidIsaytoyouinmysleep,Chris—er,Sir?”Notthisagain.Putheroutofhermisery,Grey.“Yousaidlotsofthings,Anastasia.Youtalkedaboutcagesandstrawberries.Thatyouwantedmore,
andthatyoumissedme.”“Isthatall?”Shesoundsrelieved.Whywouldsheberelieved?IstretchoutbesidehersoIcanseeherface.“Whatdidyouthinkyou’dsaid?”Sheopenshereyesforabriefmoment,andshutsthemagainquickly.“ThatIthoughtyouwereugly,conceited,andthatyouwerehopelessinbed.”Oneblueeyepeeks
openandwatchesmewarily.Oh…she’slying.“Well, naturally I am all those things, and now you’ve gotme really intrigued.What are you
hidingfromme,MissSteele?”“I’mnothidinganything.”“Anastasia,you’reahopelessliar.”“Ithoughtyouweregoingtomakemegiggleaftersex;thisisn’tdoingitforme.”Heranswerisunexpected,andIgiveherareluctantsmile.“Ican’ttelljokes,”Iconfess.“Mr.Grey!Somethingyoucan’tdo?”Sherewardsmewithabroad,infectiousgrin.“No,hopelessjoketeller,”Isay,asifit’sabadgeofhonor.Shegiggles.“I’mahopelessjoketeller,too.”“Thatissuchalovelysound,”Iwhisper,andkissher.ButIstillwanttoknowwhyshe’srelieved.
“Andyouarehidingsomething,Anastasia.Imayhavetotortureitoutofyou.”“Ha!”Thespacebetweenusisfilledwithherlaughter.“Ithinkyou’vedoneenoughtorturing.”Herresponsewipesthesmileoffmyface,andherexpressionsoftensimmediately.“MaybeI’lllet
youtorturemelikethatagain,”shesayscoyly.Reliefsweepsthroughme.“I’dlikethatverymuch,MissSteele.”
“Weaimtoplease,Mr.Grey.”“You’reokay?”Iask,humbledandanxiousatonce.“Morethanokay.”Shegivesmehertimidsmile.“You’re amazing.” I kiss her forehead, then climb off the bed as that ominous feeling ripples
throughmeoncemore.Shakingitoff,Ibuttonmyflyandholdoutmyhandtohelpheroffthebed.Whenshe’sstandingIpullherintomyarmsandkissher,savoringhertaste.
“Bed,”Imutter,andleadhertothedoor.ThereIwrapherinthebathrobeshe’slefthangingonthepeg,andbeforeshecanprotestIpickherupandcarryherdownstairstomybedroom.
“I’msotired,”shemumblesonceshe’sinmybed.“Sleep now,” I whisper, and wrap her in my arms. I close my eyes, fighting the disquieting
sensationthatsurgesandfillsmychestoncemore.It’s likehomesicknessandahomecomingrolledintoone…andit’sterrifying.
SATURDAY,JUNE4,2011
Thesummerbreezeteasesmyhair,itscaressthenimblefingersofalover.Mylover.Ana.Iwakesuddenly,confused.Mybedroomis shroudedindarkness,andbesidemeAnasleeps,her
breathinggentleandeven.Ipropmyselfupononeelbowandrunmyhandthroughmyhair,withtheuncannyfeelingthatsomeonehasjustdoneexactlythat.Iglancearoundtheroom,peeringintotheshadowycorners,butAnaandIarealone.
Strange.Icouldswearsomeonewashere.Someonetouchedme.Itwasjustadream.Ishakeoffthedisturbingthoughtandcheckthetime.It’safter4:30inthemorning.AsIflopback
downontomypillow,Anamumblesanincoherentwordandturnsovertofaceme,still fastasleep.Shelookssereneandbeautiful.
Istareattheceiling,theflashinglightofthesmokealarmtauntingmeoncemore.Wehavenocontract.YetAna’shere.Besideme.Whatdoesthismean?HowamIsupposedtodealwithher?Willsheabidebymyrules?Ineedtoknowthatshe’ssafe.Irubmyface.Thisisunchartedterritoryforme;it’soutofmycontrol,andit’sunsettling.
Leilapopsintomymind.Shit.Mymindraces:Leila,work,Ana…andIknowIwon’tgetbacktosleep.Gettingup,Ipullonsome
PJpants,closethebedroomdoor,andheadintothelivingroomtomypiano.Chopinismysolace;thesombernotesmatchmymoodandIplaythemoverandover.Asmall
movementattheedgeofmyvisioncatchesmyattention,andlookingup,Iseeit’sAnacomingtowardme,herfootstepshesitant.“Youshouldbeasleep,”Imutter,butcontinueplaying.
“Soshouldyou,”shevolleysback.Herfaceisfirmwithresolve,yetshelookssmallandvulnerabledressedonlyinmyoversizedbathrobe.Ihidemysmile.
“Areyouscoldingme,MissSteele?”“Yes,Mr.Grey,Iam.”“Well,Ican’tsleep.”Ihavetoomuchweighingonmymind,andI’drathershewentbacktobedandslept.Shemustbe
tiredfromyesterday.Shedisregardsmymoodandsitsdownbesidemeonthepianobench,leaningherheadonmyshoulder.
It’s sucha tenderand intimategesture that for amoment I losemyplace in theprelude,but Icontinueplaying,feelingmoreatpeacebecauseshe’swithme.
“Whatwasthat?”sheaskswhenIfinish.
“Chopin.Aprelude.Opustwenty-eight,numberfour.InEminor,ifyou’reinterested.”“I’malwaysinterestedinwhatyoudo.”SweetAna.Ikissherhair.“Ididn’tmeantowakeyou.”“Youdidn’t,”shesays,notmovingherhead.“Playtheotherone.”“Otherone?”“TheBachpiecethatyouplayedthefirstnightIstayed.”“Oh,theMarcello.”I can’t rememberwhen I last played for someoneupon request. Forme the piano is a solitary
instrument,formyearsonly.Myfamilyhasn’theardmeplayforyears.Butsinceshe’sasked,I’llplayformy sweet Ana.My fingers caress the keys and the hauntingmelody echoes through the livingroom.
“Whydoyouonlyplaysuchsadmusic?”sheasks.Isitsad?“Soyouwerejustsixwhenyoustartedtoplay?”Shecontinuesherquestions,liftingherheadand
studyingme.Herfaceisopenandeagerforinformation,asusual;andafterlastnight,whoamItodenyheranything?
“Ithrewmyselfintolearningthepianotopleasemynewmother.”“To fit into theperfect family?”Mywords fromourcandidnight inSavannahecho inher soft
voice.“Yes, so to speak.” I don’t want to talk about this and I’m surprised howmuch ofmy personal
information she’s retained. “Why are you awake? Don’t you need to recover from yesterday’sexertions?”
“It’seightinthemorningforme.AndIneedtotakemypill.”“Wellremembered,”Imuse.“Onlyyouwouldstartacourseoftime-specificbirthcontrolpillsin
adifferent timezone.Perhapsyou shouldwaithalf anhour,and thenanotherhalfhour tomorrowmorning.Soeventuallyyoucantakethematareasonabletime.”
“Goodplan,”shesays.“Sowhatshallwedoforhalfanhour?”Well,Icouldfuckyouoverthispiano.“Icanthinkofafewthings.”Myvoiceisseductive.“Ontheotherhand,wecouldtalk.”Shesmiles,provocative.I’mnotinthemoodfortalking.“IpreferwhatIhaveinmind.”Isnakemyarmaroundherwaist,
pullherintomylap,andnuzzleherhair.“You’dalwaysratherhavesexthantalk.”Shelaughs.“True. Especially with you.”Her hands curl aroundmy biceps, yet the darkness stays still and
quiet. I trailkisses from thebaseofherear toher throat. “Maybeonmypiano,” Imurmur,asmybodyresponds toamental imageofher sprawlednakedon the top,herhair spillingdownover theside.
“Iwanttogetsomethingstraight.”Shespeaksquietlyinmyear.“Alwayssoeagerforinformation,MissSteele.Whatneedsstraighteningout?”Herskinissoftand
warmagainstmylipsasInudgeherbathrobeoffhershoulderwithmynose.“Us,”shesays,andthesimplewordsoundslikeaprayer.“Hmm.Whataboutus?”Ipause.Whereisshegoingwiththis?“Thecontract.”Istopandstaredownintohershrewdgaze.Whyisshedoingthisnow?Myfingersglidedownher
cheek.“Well,Ithinkthecontractismoot,don’tyou?”“Moot?”shesays,andherlipssoftenwiththehintofasmile.“Moot.”Imirrorherexpression.“Butyouweresokeen.”UncertaintycloudsAna’seyes.“Well,thatwasbefore.Anyway,therulesaren’tmoot,theystillstand.”Ineedtoknowyou’resafe.“Before?Beforewhat?”“Before—”Beforeallthis.Beforeyouturnedmyworldupsidedown,beforeyousleepingwithme.
Beforeyoulaidyourheadonmyshoulderatthepiano.It’sall...“More,”Imurmur,drivingawaythenow-familiaruneaseinmygut.
“Oh,”shesays,andIthinkshe’spleased.“Besides,we’vebeenintheplayroomtwicenow,andyouhaven’trunscreamingforthehills.”“Doyouexpectmeto?”“Nothingyoudoisexpected,Anastasia.”The v between her brows is back. “So, let me be clear. You just want me to follow the rules
elementofthecontractallthetime,butnottherestofthecontract?”“Exceptintheplayroom.Iwantyoutofollowthespiritofthecontractintheplayroom,andyes,I
wantyou to follow the rules—all the time.ThenI’llknowyou’re safe.AndI’llbeable tohaveyouanytimeIwish,”Iaddflippantly.
“AndifIbreakoneoftherules?”sheasks.“ThenI’llpunishyou.”“Butwon’tyouneedmypermission?”“Yes,Iwill.”“AndifIsayno?”shepersists.Whyisshebeingsowillful?“Ifyousayno,you’llsayno.I’llhavetofindawaytopersuadeyou.”Sheshouldknowthis.She
didn’tletmespankherintheboathouse,andIwantedto.ButIgottodoitlaterthatevening…withherapproval.
She stands and walks toward the entrance of the living room, and for amoment I think she’sstormingoff,butsheturns,herexpressionperplexed.“Sothepunishmentaspectremains.”
“Yes,butonlyifyoubreaktherules.”Thisiscleartome.Whynottoher?“I’llneedtorereadthem,”shesays,suddenlyallbusinesslike.Shewantstodothisnow?
“I’llfetchthemforyou.”InmystudyIfireupmycomputerandprintouttherules,wonderingwhywearediscussingthisat
fiveinthemorning.She’satthesink,drinkingaglassofwater,whenIreturnwiththeprintout.Isitdownonastool
andwait,watchingher.Herbackisstiffandtense;thisdoesnotbodewell.WhensheturnsaroundIslidethesheetofpapertowardheracrossthekitchenisland.
“Hereyougo.”Shescanstherulesquickly.“Sotheobediencethingstillstands?”“Ohyes.”Sheshakesherhead,andanironicsmiletugsatthecornerofhermouthashereyesdarttothe
heavens.Ohjoy.Myspiritssuddenlylift.“Didyoujustrollyoureyesatme,Anastasia?”“Possibly.Dependswhatyourreactionis.”Shelookswaryandamusedatonce.“Sameasalways.”Ifshe’llletme…Sheswallowsandhereyeswidenwithanticipation.“So…”“Yes?”“Youwanttospankmenow?”“Yes.AndIwill.”“Oh,really,Mr.Grey?”Shefoldsherarms,herchinthrustupwardinachallenge.“Areyougoingtostopme?”“You’regoing tohave tocatchmefirst.”Shewearsacoquettishsmile,whichaddressesmydick
directly.Shewantstoplay.I ease myself off the stool, watching her carefully. “Oh, really, Miss Steele?” The air almost
cracklesbetweenus.Whichwaywillsherun?Hereyesareonmine,brimmingwithexcitement.Herteethteaseherlowerlip.“Andyou’rebitingyourlip.”Isshedoingitonpurpose?Imoveslowlytomyleft.“Youwouldn’t,” she taunts. “After all, you roll youreyes.”Withher eyes fixedonme, she, too,
movestoherleft.“Yes,butyou’vejustraisedthebarontheexcitementstakeswiththisgame.”“I’mquitefast,youknow,”sheteases.“SoamI.”Howdoesshemakeeverythingsothrilling?“Areyougoingtocomequietly?”“DoIever?”Shegrins,takingthebait.
“MissSteele,whatdoyoumean?”Istalkheraroundthekitchenisland.“It’llbeworseforyouifIhavetocomeandgetyou.”
“That’sonly ifyoucatchme,Christian.Andrightnow,Ihavenointentionof lettingyoucatchme.”
Issheserious?“Anastasia, youmay fall and hurt yourself.Whichwill put you in direct contravention of rule
numberseven,nowsix.”“IhavebeenindangersinceImetyou,Mr.Grey,rulesornorules.”“Yes,youhave.”Perhapsthisisnotagame.Isshetryingtotellmesomething?Shehesitates,andImakeasudden
lungetograbher.Shesquealsanddashesaroundtheisland,totherelativesafetyoftheoppositesideof thediningtable.Withher lipsparted,herexpressionbothwaryanddaringatonce, thebathrobeslipsoffoneshoulder.Shelookshot.Reallyfuckinghot.
SlowlyIprowltowardher,andshebacksaway.“Youcertainlyknowhowtodistractaman,Anastasia.”“Weaimtoplease,Mr.Grey.Distractyoufromwhat?”“Life.Theuniverse.”Ex-subswho’vegonemissing.Work.Ourarrangement.Everything.“Youdidseemverypreoccupiedasyouwereplaying.”She’snotbackingdown.Istopandfoldmyarms,reassessingmystrategy.“Wecandothisallday,
baby,butIwillgetyou,anditwilljustbeworseforyouwhenIdo.”“No,youwon’t,”shesays,withabsolutecertainty.Ifrown.“Anyonewouldthinkyoudidn’twantmetocatchyou.”“Idon’t.That’sthepoint.Ifeelaboutpunishmentthewayyoufeelaboutmetouchingyou.”Andfromnowherethedarknesscrawlsoverme,shroudingmyskin,leavinganicytrailofdespair
initswake.No.No.Ican’tbeartobetouched.Ever.“That’showyoufeel?”It’slikeshe’stouchedme,hernailsleavingwhitetracksovermychest.Sheblinksseveral times,assessingmyreaction,andwhenshespeakshervoiceisgentle.“No.It
doesn’taffectmequiteasmuchasthat,butitgivesyouanidea.”Herexpressionisanxious.Well,hell!Thisshinesawholedifferentlightonourrelationship.“Oh,”Imutter,becauseIcan’t
thinkofanythingelsetosay.Shetakesadeepbreathandapproachesme,andwhenshe’sstandinginfrontofmeshelooksup,
hereyesburningwithapprehension.“Youhateitthatmuch?”Iwhisper.Thisisit.Wearereallyincompatible.No.Idon’twanttobelievethat.“Well…no,”shesays,andreliefwashesthroughme.“No,”shecontinues.“Ifeelambivalentabout
it.Idon’tlikeit,butIdon’thateit.”“Butlastnight,intheplayroom,you—”
“Idoitforyou,Christian,becauseyouneedit.Idon’t.Youdidn’thurtmelastnight.Thatwasinadifferentcontext,andIcanrationalizethatinternally,andItrustyou.Butwhenyouwanttopunishme,Iworrythatyou’llhurtme.”
Fuck.Tellher.It’struth-or-daretime,Grey.“Iwanttohurtyou.Butnotbeyondanythingthatyoucouldn’ttake.”I’dnevergotoofar.“Why?”“Ijustneedit,”Iwhisper.“Ican’ttellyou.”“Can’torwon’t?”“Won’t.”“Soyouknowwhy?”“Yes.”“Butyouwon’ttellme.”“IfIdo,youwillrunscreamingfromthisroom,andyou’llneverwanttoreturn.Ican’triskthat,
Anastasia.”“Youwantmetostay.”“Morethanyouknow.Icouldn’tbeartoloseyou.”Icannolongerstomachthedistancebetweenus.Igrabhertostopherfromrunning,andIpull
herintomyarms,mylipsseekinghers.Sheanswersmyneed,hermouthmoldingtomine,kissingmeback with the same passion and hope and longing. The hovering darkness recedes and I find mysolace.
“Don’tleaveme,”Iwhisperagainstherlips.“Yousaidyouwouldn’tleaveme,andyoubeggedmenottoleaveyou,inyoursleep.”
“I don’t want to go,” she says, but her eyes are searching mine, looking for answers. And I’mexposed—myugly,tornsoulondisplay.
“Showme,”shesays.AndIdon’tknowwhatshemeans.“Showyou?”“Showmehowmuchitcanhurt.”“What?”Ileanbackandstareatherindisbelief.“Punishme.Iwanttoknowhowbaditcanget.”Ohno.Ireleaseherandstepoutofherreach.She gazes at me: open, honest, serious. She’s offering herself to me once more; mine for the
taking,todowithasIwish.I’mstunned.She’dfulfillthisneedforme?Ican’tbelieveit.“Youwouldtry?”
“Yes.IsaidIwould.”Herexpressionisfullofresolve.“Ana,you’resoconfusing.”“I’mconfused,too.I’mtryingtoworkthisout.AndyouandIwillknow,onceandforall,ifIcan
dothis.IfIcanhandlethis,thenmaybeyou—”
Shestops,andItakeafurtherstepback.Shewantstotouchme.No.Butifwedothis,thenI’llknow.She’llknow.We’reheremuchsoonerthanIthoughtwe’dbe.CanIdothis?And in thatmoment I know there’s nothing Iwantmore…There’s nothing thatwill satisfy the
monsterwithinmemore.BeforeIcanchangemymindIgraspherarmandleadherupstairstotheplayroom.AtthedoorI
stop.“I’llshowyouhowbaditcanbe,andyoucanmakeyourownmindup.Areyoureadyforthis?”Shenods,herfacesetwiththestubborndeterminationthatI’vecometoknowsowell.Sobeit.Iopenthedoor,quicklygrababeltfromtherackbeforeshechangeshermind,andleadhertothe
benchinthecorneroftheroom.“Bendoverthebench,”Iorderquietly.Shedoesasshe’stold,sayingnothing.“We’reherebecauseyousaidyes,Anastasia.Andyouranfromme.Iamgoingtohityousixtimes,
andyouwillcountwithme.”Stillshesaysnothing.Ifoldthehemofherbathrobeoverherback,revealingherbeautifulnakedbehind.Irunmypalm
overherbuttocksandthetopofherthighs,andafrissonrunsthroughme.Thisisit.WhatIwant.WhatI’vebeenworkingtoward.“Iamdoingthissothatyouremembernottorunfromme,andasexcitingasitis,Ineverwant
youtorunfromme.Andyourolledyoureyesatme.YouknowhowIfeelaboutthat.”Itakeadeepbreath,savoringthismoment,tryingtosteadymythunderingheartbeat.
Ineedthis.ThisiswhatIdo.Andwe’refinallyhere.Shecandoit.She’sneverletmedownyet.Holdingherinplacewithonehandatthesmallofherback,Ishakeoutthebelt.Itakeanother
deepbreath,focusingonthetaskinhand.Shewon’trun.She’saskedme.ThenIwieldit,strikingheracrossbothcheeks,hard.Shecriesout,inshock.Butshe’snotcalledoutthenumber…orthesafeword.“Count,Anastasia!”Idemand.“One!”sheshouts.Okay…nosafeword.Ihitheragain.“Two!”shescreams.
That’sright,letitout,baby.Ihitheroncemore.“Three!”Shewinces.Therearethreestripesacrossherbackside.Imakeitfour.Sheshoutsthenumber,loudandclear.There’snoonetohearyou,baby.Shoutallyouneed.Ibeltheragain.“Five,”shesobs,andIpause,waitingforhertosafe-word.Shedoesn’t.Andoneforluck.“Six,”Anawhispers,hervoiceforcedandhoarse.I drop the belt, savoring my sweet, euphoric release. I’m punch-drunk, breathless, and finally
replete.Oh, thisbeautifulgirl,mybeautifulgirl. Iwant tokissevery inchofherbody.We’rehere.WhereIwanttobe.Ireachforher,pullingherintomyarms.
“Letgo.No—”Shestrugglesoutofmygrasp,scramblingawayfromme,pushingandshovingandfinallyturningonmelikeaseethingwildcat.“Don’ttouchme!”shehisses.Herfaceisblotchyandsmearedwithtears,hernoseisrunning,andherhairisadark,tangledmess,butshehasneverlookedsomagnificent…andatthesametimesoangry.
Herangercrashesovermelikeatidalwave.She’smad.Reallymad.Okay,Ihadn’tfiguredonanger.Giveheramoment.Waitfortheendorphinstokickin.Shedashesawayhertearswiththebackofherhand.“Thisiswhatyoureallylike?Me,likethis?”
Shewipeshernosewiththesleeveofthebathrobe.Myeuphoriavanishes.I’mstunned,completelyhelplessandparalyzedbyheranger.ThecryingI
knowandunderstand,butthisrage…somewheredeepinsideitresonateswithmeandIdon’twanttothinkaboutthat.
Don’tgothere,Grey.Whydidn’tsheaskmetostop?Shedidn’tsafe-word.Shedeservedtobepunished.Sheranfrom
me.Sherolledhereyes.Thisiswhathappenswhenyoudefyme,baby.Shescowls.Blueeyeswideandbright,filledwithhurtandrageandsudden,chillinginsight.Shit.WhathaveIdone?It’ssobering.I’munbalanced,teeteringattheedgeofadangerousprecipice,desperatelysearchingforthewords
tomakethisright,butmymindisblank.“Well,youareonefucked-upsonofabitch,”shesnarls.Allthebreathleavesmybody,andit’slikeshe’swhippedmewithabelt…Fuck!She’srecognizedmeforwhatIam.
She’sseenthemonster.“Ana,”Iwhisper,pleadingwithher.Iwanthertostop.Iwanttoholdherandmakethepaingo
away.Iwanthertosobinmyarms.“Don’tyoudareAname!Youneedtosortyourshitout,Grey!”shesnaps,andwalksoutof the
playroom,quietlyshuttingthedoorbehindher.Stunned,Istareatthecloseddoor,herwordsringinginmyears.
Youareonefucked-upsonofabitch.Noonehaseverwalkedoutonme.Whatthehell?Mechanically,Irunmyhandthroughmyhair,
tryingtorationalizeherreaction,andmine.Ijustlethergo.I’mnotmad…I’m…what?Istooptopickup the belt, walk to the wall, and hang it on its peg. That was, without doubt, one of the mostsatisfyingmomentsofmylife.AmomentagoIfeltlighter,theweightofuncertaintybetweenusgone.
It’sdone.We’rethere.Nowthatsheknowswhat’sinvolved,wecanmoveon.Itoldher.Peoplelikemelikeinflictingpain.Butonlyonwomenwholikeit.Mysenseofuneasegrows.Herreaction—theimageofherinjured,hauntedlookisback,unwelcome,inmymind’seye.It’s
unsettling.Iamusedtomakingwomencry—it’swhatIdo.ButAna?Isinktothefloorandleanmyheadagainstthewall,myarmsonmybentknees.Justlethercry.
She’llfeelbetterforcrying.Womendo,inmyexperience.Giveheramoment,thengoandofferheraftercare.Shedidn’t safe-word.Sheaskedme.Shewanted toknow,curiousasever. It’s justbeenarudeawakening,that’sall.
Youareonefucked-upsonofabitch.Closingmyeyes,Ismilewithouthumor.Yes,Ana,yesIam,andnowyouknow.Nowwecanmove
forwardwithourrelationship…arrangement.Whateverthisis.Mythoughtsdon’tcomfortmeandmysenseofuneasegrows.Herwoundedeyesglaringatme,
outraged,accusatory,pitying…shecanseemeforwhatIam.Amonster.Flynnspringstomind:Don’tdwellonthenegative,Christian.IclosemyeyesoncemoreandseeAna’sanguishedface.WhatafoolIam.Thiswastoosoon.Way,waytoosoon.Fuck.I’llreassureher.Yes—lethercry,thenreassureher.Iwasangrywithherforrunningfromme.Whydidshedothat?Hell. She’s sodifferent fromanyotherwoman I’ve known.Of course shewouldn’t react in the
sameway.
Ineedtofaceher,holdher.We’llgetthroughthis.Iwonderwheresheis.Shit!Panic seizesme.Suppose she’s gone?No, shewouldn’t do that.Notwithout saying good-bye. I
standandraceoutoftheroomanddownthestairs.She’snotinthelivingroom—shemustbeinbed.Idashtomybedroom.
Thebedisempty.Full-blownanxietyeruptsinthepitofmybelly.No,shecan’thavegone!Upstairs—shemustbe
inherroom.Itakethestairsthreeatatimeandpause,breathless,outsideherbedroomdoor.She’sinthere,crying.
Oh,thankGod.Ileanmyheadagainstthedoor,overwhelmedbymyrelief.Don’tleave.Thethoughtisawful.Ofcourseshejustneedstocry.Taking a steadying breath, I head to the bathroom beside the playroom to fetch some arnica
cream,Advil,andaglassofwater,andIreturntoherroom.Insideit’sstilldark,thoughdawnisapalestreakonthehorizon,andittakesmeamomenttofind
mybeautifulgirl.She’scurledupinthemiddleofthebed,smallandvulnerable,sobbingquietly.Thesoundofhergrief rips throughme, leavingmewinded.My subsneveraffectedme like this—evenwhen theywere bawling. I don’t get it.Whydo I feel so lost? Putting down the arnica,water, andtablets, I lift the comforter, slide in beside her, and reach for her. She stiffens, her whole bodyscreaming,Don’ttouchme!Theironyisnotlostonme.
“Hush,” I whisper, in a vain attempt to halt her tears and calm her. She doesn’t respond. Sheremainsfrozen,unyielding.
“Don’tfightme,Ana,please.”Sherelaxesafraction,allowingmetopullherintomyarms,andIburymynoseinherwonderfullyfragranthair.Shesmellsassweetasever,herscentasoothingbalmtomynerves.AndIplantatenderkissonherneck.
“Don’thateme,” Imurmur, as I pressmy lips toher throat, tastingher.She saysnothing, butslowlyhercryingdissipates intosoft snifflingsobs.At last she’squiet. I thinkshemighthave fallenasleep,butIcannotbringmyselftocheck,incaseIdisturbher.Atleastshe’scalmernow.
Dawncomesandgoes,and theambient lightgetsbrighter, intruding into theroomasmorningmoveson.Andstillwe liequietly.Myminddriftsas Iholdmygirl inmyarms,andIobserve thechangingqualityofthelight.Ican’trememberaninstancewhenIjustlaydownandlettimecreepbyandmythoughtswander.It’s relaxing, imaginingwhatwecoulddofor therestof theday.MaybeIshouldtakehertoseeTheGrace.
Yes.Wecouldgosailingthisafternoon.Ifshe’sstilltalkingtoyou,Grey.Shemoves,aslighttwitchinherfoot,andIknowshe’sawake.“IbroughtyousomeAdvilandsomearnicacream.”Finally sheresponds, slowly turning inmyarms to faceme.Pain-riveneyes focusonmine,her
lookintense,questioning.Shetakeshertimetoscrutinizeme,asifseeingmeforthefirsttime.It’s
unnervingbecause,asusual,Ihavenoideawhatshe’sthinking,whatshe’sseeing.Butshe’sdefinitelycalmer,andIwelcomethesmallsparkofreliefthisbrings.Todaymightbeagooddayafterall.
Shecaressesmycheekandrunsher fingersalongmy jaw, ticklingmystubble. Iclosemyeyes,savoringhertouch.It’sstillsonew,thissensation,beingtouchedandenjoyingherinnocentfingersgentlystrokingmyface,thedarknessquiet.Idon’tmindhertouchingmyface…orherfingersinmyhair.
“I’msorry,”shesays.Hersoft-spokenwordsareasurprise.She’sapologizingtome?“Whatfor?”“WhatIsaid.”Reliefcoursesuncheckedthroughmybody.She’sforgivenme.Besides,whatshesaidinangerwas
right—Iamafucked-upsonofabitch.“Youdidn’ttellmeanythingIdidn’tknow.”AndforthefirsttimeinsomanyyearsIfindmyself
apologizing.“I’msorryIhurtyou.”Hershoulders lifta littleandshegivesmeaslightsmile.I’vewonareprieve.We’resafe.We’re
okay.I’mrelieved.“Iaskedforit,”shesays.Yousuredid,baby.Sheswallowsnervously.“Idon’tthinkIcanbeeverythingyouwantmetobe,”sheconcedes,her
eyeswidewithheartfeltsincerity.Theworldstops.Fuck.We’renotsafeatall.Grey,makethisright.“YouareeverythingIwantyoutobe.”She frowns.Her eyes are red-rimmed and she’s so pale, the palest I’ve ever seenher. It’s oddly
stirring.“Idon’tunderstand,”shesays.“I’mnotobedient,andyoucanbeassureashellI’mnotgoingtoletyoudothattomeagain.Andthat’swhatyouneed—yousaidso.”
Andthereitis—hercoupdegrace.Ipushedtoofar.Nowsheknows—andalltheargumentsIhadwithmyselfbeforeIembarkedonthepursuitofthisgirlfloodbacktome.She’snotintothelifestyle.HowcanIcorruptherthisway?She’stooyoung,tooinnocent—too…Ana.
Mydreamsarejustthat…dreams.Thisisn’tgoingtowork.Iclosemyeyes;Ican’tbeartolookather.It’strue,shewouldbebetteroffwithoutme.Nowthat
she’sseenthemonster,sheknowsshecan’tcontendwithhim.Ihavetofreeher—lethergoherownway.Thiswon’tworkbetweenus.
Focus,Grey.“You’reright.Ishouldletyougo.I’mnogoodforyou.”Hereyeswiden.“Idon’twanttogo,”shewhispers.Tearspoolinhereyes,glisteningonlongdark
lashes.
“Idon’twantyoutogo,either,”Ianswer,becauseit’sthetruth,andthatfeeling—thatominous,frighteningfeeling—isback,overwhelmingme.Thetearstrickledownhercheeksoncemore.GentlyIwipeawayafallingtearwithmythumb,andbeforeIknowitthewordstumbleout.“I’vecomealivesinceImetyou.”I tracemythumbalongherbottomlip.Iwanttokissher,hard.Makeherforget.Dazzleher.Arouseher—IknowIcan.Butsomethingholdsmeback—herwary,injuredlook.Whywouldshewanttobekissedbyamonster?Shemightpushmeaway,andIdon’tknowifIcoulddealwithanymorerejection.Herwordshauntme,pullingatsomedarkandrepressedmemory.
Youareonefucked-upsonofabitch.“Me,too,”shewhispers.“I’vefalleninlovewithyou,Christian.”IrememberCarrickteachingmetodive.MytoesgrippingthepooledgeasIfellarchingintothe
water—andnowI’mfallingoncemore,intotheabyss,inslowmotion.There’snowayshecanfeelthataboutme.Notme.No!AndI’mchokingforair,strangledbyherwordspressingtheirmomentousweightonmychest.I
plungedownanddown,thedarknesswelcomingme.Ican’thear them.Ican’tdealwiththem.Shedoesn’tknowwhatshe’ssaying,whoshe’sdealingwith—whatshe’sdealingwith.
“No.”Myvoiceisrawwithpaineddisbelief.“Youcan’tloveme,Ana.No.That’swrong.”Ineedtosetherrightonthis.Shecannotloveamonster.Shecannotloveafucked-upsonofa
bitch.Sheneedstogo.Sheneedsout—andinaninstant,everythingbecomescrystalclear.Thisismyeurekamoment;Ican’tmakeherhappy.Ican’tbewhatsheneeds.Ican’tletthisgoon.Thishastofinish.Itshouldneverhavestarted.
“Wrong?Why’sitwrong?”“Well,lookatyou.Ican’tmakeyouhappy.”TheanguishisplaininmyvoiceasIsinkdeeperand
deeperintotheabyss,shroudedindespair.Noonecanloveme.“Butyoudomakemehappy,”shesays,notcomprehending.AnastasiaSteele, lookatyourself. Ihave tobehonestwithher. “Notat themoment.Notdoing
whatIwanttodo.”Sheblinks,herlashesflutteringoverherlarge,woundedeyes,studyingmeintentlyasshesearches
forthetruth.“We’llnevergetpastthat,willwe?”Ishakemyhead,becauseIcan’tthinkofanythingtosay.Itcomesdowntoincompatibility,again.
Shecloseshereyes,asifinpain,andwhensheopensthemagain,theyareclearer,fullofresolve.Hertears have stopped.And the blood starts pounding throughmyhead asmyheart hammers. I knowwhatshe’sgoingtosay.Idreadwhatshe’sgoingtosay.
“Well,I’dbettergo,then.”Shewincesasshesitsup.Now?Shecan’tgonow.“No,don’tgo.”I’mfree-falling,deeperanddeeper.Herleavingfeelslikeamonumentalmistake.
Mymistake.Butshecan’tstayifshefeelsthiswayaboutme,shejustcan’t.“There’snopointinmestaying,”shesays,andgingerlyclimbsoutofthebedstillwrappedinher
bathrobe.She’sreallyleaving.Ican’tbelieveit.Iscrambleoutofbedtostopher,butherlookpinsme
tothefloor—herexpressionsobleak,socold,sodistant—notmyAnaatall.“I’mgoingtogetdressed.I’dlikesomeprivacy,”shesays.Howflatandemptyhervoicesoundsas
sheturnsandleaves,closingthedoorbehindher.Istareatthecloseddoor.Thisisthesecondtimeinonedaythatshe’swalkedoutonme.Isitupandcradlemyheadinmyhands,tryingtocalmdown,tryingtorationalizemyfeelings.Shelovesme?Howdidthishappen?How?Grey,youfuckingfool.Wasn’tthisalwaysarisk,withsomeonelikeher?Someonegoodandinnocentandcourageous.A
riskthatshe’dnotseetherealmeuntilitwastoolate.ThatIwouldmakehersufferlikethis?Whyisthissopainful?IfeellikeI’vepuncturedalung.Ifollowheroutoftheroom.Shemight
wantprivacy,butifshe’sleavingmeIneedclothes.When I reachmy bedroom, she’s showering, so I quickly change into jeans and a T-shirt, I’ve
chosenblack—suitableformymood.Grabbingmyphone,Iwanderthroughtheapartment,temptedto sit at the piano andhammer out somewoeful lament.But instead I stand in themiddle of theroom,feelingnothing.
Vacant.Focus,Grey!Thisistherightdecision.Lethergo.Myphonebuzzes.It’sWelch.HashefoundLeila?“Welch.”“Mr. Grey, I have news.” His voice grates over the phone. This guy should stop smoking. He
soundslikeDeepThroat.“Youfoundher?”Myspiritsliftalittle.“No,sir.”“Whatisit,then?”Whythehellhaveyoucalled?“Leilaleftherhusband.Hefinallyadmittedittome.He’swashedhishandsofher.”Thisisnews.“Isee.”“He has an idea where shemight be, but he wants his palm greased.Wants to knowwho’s so
interestedinhiswife.Thoughthat’snotwhathecalledher.”Ifightmysurginganger.“Howmuchdoeshewant?”“Hesaidtwothousand.”“Hesaidwhat?”Ishout,losingit.Whydidn’thejustadmitearlierthatLeilahadwalkedouton
him?“Well,hecouldhavetoldusthefuckingtruth.What’shisnumber?Ineedtocallhim.Welch,thisisarealfuckup.”
Iglanceup,andAnaisstandingawkwardlyattheentrancetothelivingroom,dressedinjeansandanuglysweatshirt.She’sallbigeyesandtight,pinchedface,hersuitcasebesideher.
“Findher,”Isnap,hangingup.I’lldealwithWelchlater.Anawalksovertothesofa,andfromherbackpackremovestheMac,herphone,andthekeytoher
car.Takingadeepbreath,shemarchestothekitchenandlaysallthreeitemsonthecounter.Whatthehell?She’sreturningherthings?Sheturnstofaceme,determinationclearonhersmallashenface.It’sherstubbornlook,theoneI
knowsowell.“IneedthemoneythatTaylorgotformyBeetle.”Hervoiceiscalmbutmonotone.“Ana,Idon’twantthosethings—they’reyours.”Shecan’tdothistome.“Please,takethem.”“No,Christian.Ionlyacceptedthemundersufferance,andIdon’twantthemanymore.”“Ana,bereasonable!”“Idon’twantanythingthatwillremindmeofyou.IjustneedthemoneythatTaylorgotformy
car.”Hervoiceisdevoidofemotion.Shewantstoforgetme.“Areyoureallytryingtowoundme?”“No,I’mnot.I’mtryingtoprotectmyself.”Ofcourse—she’stryingtoprotectherselffromthemonster.“PleaseAna,takethatstuff.”Herlipsaresopale.“Christian,Idon’twanttofight—Ijustneedthatmoney.”Money.Italwayscomesdowntothefuckingmoney.“Willyoutakeacheck?”Isnarl.“Yes.Ithinkyou’regoodforit.”Shewantsmoney, I’ll givehermoney. I storm intomy study,barelyholdingon tomy temper.
SittingatmydeskIcallTaylor.“Goodmorning,Mr.Grey.”Iignorehisgreeting.“HowmuchdidyougetforAna’sVW?”“Twelvethousanddollars,sir.”“Thatmuch?”Inspiteofmybleakmood,I’msurprised.“It’saclassic,”hesaysbywayofexplanation.“Thanks.CanyoutakeMissSteelehomenow?”“Ofcourse.I’llberightdown.”Ihangupandtakeoutmycheckbookfrommydeskdrawer.AsIdo,Iremembermyconversation
withWelchaboutLeila’sfuckingassholeofahusband.It’salwaysaboutfuckingmoney!Inmyanger Idouble theamount thatTaylorgot for thedeath trapandstuff thecheck intoan
envelope.When I return she’s still standing by the kitchen island, lost, almost childlike. I hand her the
envelope,myangerevaporatingatthesightofher.“Taylorgotagoodprice…it’saclassiccar,” Imumble inapology.“Youcanaskhim.He’ll take
youhome.”InodtowhereTayloriswaitingattheentranceofthelivingroom.
“That’sfine,Icangetmyselfhome,thankyou.”No!Accepttheride,Ana.Whydoesshedothis?“Areyougoingtodefymeateveryturn?”“Whychangeahabitofalifetime?”Shegivesmeablanklook.That’sitinanutshell—whyourarrangementwasdoomedfromthestart.She’sjustnotcutoutfor
this,anddeepdown,Ialwaysknewit.Iclosemyeyes.Iamsuchafool.Itryasofterapproach,pleadingwithher.“Please,Ana.LetTaylortakeyouhome.”“I’ll get the car,Miss Steele,” Taylor announces with quiet authority and leaves.Maybe she’ll
listentohim.Sheglancesaround,buthe’salreadygonedowntothebasementtofetchthecar.Sheturnsbacktome,hereyeswiderallofasudden.AndIholdmybreath.Ireallycan’tbelieve
she’s going. This is the last time I’ll see her, and she looks so sad. It cuts deep that I’m the oneresponsibleforthatlook.Itakeahesitantstepforward;Iwanttoholdheronemoretimeandbeghertostay.
Shestepsback,andit’samovethatsignalsalltooclearlythatshedoesn’twantme.I’vedrivenheraway.
Ifreeze.“Idon’twantyoutogo.”“Ican’tstay.IknowwhatIwant,andyoucan’tgiveittome,andIcan’tgiveyouwhatyouneed.”Oh,please,Ana—letmeholdyouonemoretime.Smellyoursweet,sweetscent.Feelyouinmy
arms.Isteptowardheragain,butsheholdsupherhands,haltingme.“Don’t—please.”Sherecoils,panicetchedonherface.“Ican’tdothis.”Andshegrabshersuitcase
andbackpackandheadsforthefoyer.Ifollow,meekandhelplessinherwake,myeyesfixedonhersmallframe.
InthefoyerIcalltheelevator.Ican’ttakemyeyesoffher…herdelicate,elfinface,thoselips,thewayherdark lashes fanoutandcasta shadowoverherpale,palecheeks.Words failmeas I try tomemorizeeverydetail.Ihavenodazzlinglines,noquickwit,noarrogantcommands.Ihavenothing—nothingbutayawningvoidinsidemychest.
TheelevatordoorsopenandAnaheadsstraight in.Shelooksaroundatme—andforamomenthermaskslips,andthereitis:mypainreflectedonherbeautifulface.
No….Ana.Don’tgo.“Good-bye,Christian.”“Ana…good-bye.”Thedoorsclose,andshe’sgone.Isinkslowlytothefloorandputmyheadinmyhands.Thevoidisnowcavernousandaching,
overwhelmingme.Grey,whatthehellhaveyoudone?
WHENILOOKUPagain,thepaintingsinmyfoyer,myMadonnas,bringamirthlesssmiletomylips.
Theidealizationofmotherhood.Allofthemgazingattheirinfants,orstaringinauspiciouslydownatme.
They’re right to look at me that way. She’s gone. She’s really gone. The best thing that everhappenedtome.Aftershesaidshe’dneverleave.Shepromisedmeshe’dneverleave.Iclosemyeyes,shuttingoutthoselifeless,pityingstares,andtipmyheadbackagainstthewall.Okay,shesaiditinhersleep—andlikethefoolIam,Ibelievedher.I’vealwaysknowndeepdownIwasnogoodforher,andshewastoogoodforme.Thisishowitshouldbe.
ThenwhydoIfeellikeshit?Whyisthissopainful?Thechimeannouncingthearrivaloftheelevatorforcesmyeyesopenagain,andmyheartleaps
intomymouth.She’sback.Isitparalyzed,waiting,andthedoorspullback—andTaylorstepsoutandmomentarilyfreezes.
Hell.HowlonghaveIbeensittinghere?“MissSteele ishome,Mr.Grey,”hesays,as ifheaddressesmewhileI’mprostrateonthefloor
everyday.“Howwasshe?”Iask,asdispassionatelyasIcan,thoughIreallywanttoknow.“Upset,sir,”hesays,showingnoemotionwhatsoever.Inod,dismissinghim.Buthedoesn’tleave.“CanIgetyouanything,sir?”heasks,muchtookindlyformyliking.“No.”Go.Leavemealone.“Sir,”hesays,andheexits,leavingmeslouchedonthefoyerfloor.MuchasI’dliketositherealldayandwallowinmydespair,Ican’t.IwantanupdatefromWelch,
andIneedtocallLeila’spoorexcuseforahusband.AndIneedashower.Perhapsthisagonywillwashawayintheshower.AsIstandItouchthewoodentablethatdominatesthefoyer,myfingersabsentmindedlytracing
its delicatemarquetry. I’d have liked to fuckMiss Steele over this. I closemy eyes, imagininghersprawledacrossthistable,herheadheldback,chinup,mouthopeninecstasy,andherluscioushairpoolingovertheedge.Shit,itmakesmehardjustthinkingaboutit.
Fuck.Thepaininmyguttwistsandtightens.She’sgone,Grey.Getusedtoit.Anddrawingonyearsofenforcedcontrol,Ibringmybodytoheel.
THE SHOWER IS BLISTERING, the temperature just a notch below painful, the way I like it. I standbeneaththecascade,tryingtoforgether,hopingthisheatwillscorchheroutofmyheadandwashherscentoffmybody.
Ifshe’sgoingtoleave,there’snocomingback.Never.Iscrubmyhairwithgrimdetermination.Goodriddance.
AndIsuckinabreath.No.Notgoodriddance.Iraisemyfacetothestreamingwater.It’snotgoodriddanceatall—Iamgoingtomissher.Ilean
myforeheadagainstthetiles.Justlastnightshewasinherewithme.Istareatmyhands,myfingerscaressingthelineofgroutinthetileswhereonlyyesterdayherhandswerebracedagainstthewall.
Fuckthis.Switchingoff thewater, I stepoutof the showercubicle.As Iwrapa towelaroundmywaist, it
sinksin:eachdaywillbedarkerandemptier,becauseshe’snolongerinit.Nomorefacetious,wittye-mails.Nomoreofhersmartmouth.Nomorecuriosity.Herbrightblueeyeswillnolongerregardmeinthinlyveiledamusement…orshock…orlust.I
stareatthebroodingmorosejerkstaringbackatmeinthebathroommirror.“What thehellhaveyoudone,asshole?” I sneerathim.Hemouths thewordsbackatmewith
vitrioliccontempt.Andthebastardblinksatme,biggrayeyesrawwithmisery.“She’sbetteroffwithoutyou.Youcan’tbewhatshewants.Youcan’tgiveherwhatsheneeds.She
wantsheartsandflowers.Shedeservesbetterthanyou,youfucked-upprick.”Repulsedbytheimagegloweringbackatme,Iturnawayfromthemirror.
Tohellwithshavingfortoday.IdryoffatmychestofdrawersandgrabsomeunderwearandacleanT-shirt.AsIturnInoticea
small box onmy pillow. The rug is pulled from under me again, revealing once more the abyssbeneath,itsjawsopen,waitingforme,andmyangerturnstofear.
It’ssomethingfromher.Whatwouldshegiveme?Idropmyclothesand,takingadeepbreath,sitonthebedandpickupthebox.
It’saglider.Amodel-makingkit foraBlaníkL23.Ascribblednotefalls fromthetopoftheboxandwaftsontothebed.
Thisremindedmeofahappytime.Thankyou.
Ana
It’stheperfectpresentfromtheperfectgirl.Painlancesthroughme.Whyisthissopainful?Why?Somelong-lost,uglymemorystirs,tryingtosinkitsteethintothehereandnow.No.Thatisnota
placeIwantmymindtoreturnto.Igetup,tossingtheboxontothebed,anddresshurriedly.WhenI’mfinishedIgrabtheboxandthenoteandheadformystudy.Iwillhandlethisbetterfrommyseatofpower.
MY CONVERSATION WITH WELCH is brief.My conversation with Russell Reed—themiserable lyingbastardwhomarriedLeila—isbriefer.Ididn’tknowthatthey’dwedduringonedrunkenweekendinVegas.Nowondertheirmarriagefailedafterjusteighteenmonths.Shelefthimtwelveweeksago.Sowhereareyounow,LeilaWilliams?Whathaveyoubeendoing?
IfocusmymindonLeila,tryingtothinkofsomecluefromourpastthatmighttellmewheresheis.Ineedtoknow.Ineedtoknowshe’ssafe.Andwhyshecamehere.Whyme?
Shewantedmore,andIdidn’t,butthatwaslongago.Itwaseasywhensheleft—ourarrangementwasterminatedbymutualconsent.Infact,ourwholearrangementhadbeenexemplary: justhowitshouldbe.Shewasmischievouswhenshewaswithme,deliberatelyso,andnotthebrokencreaturethatGaildescribed.
I recall howmuch she enjoyed our sessions in the playroom. Leila loved the kink. Amemorysurfaces—I’m tying her big toes together, turning her feet in so she can’t clench her backside andavoidthepain.Yeah,shelovedallthatshit,andsodidI.Shewasagreatsubmissive.ButshenevercapturedmyattentionlikeAnastasiaSteele.
SheneverdrovemetodistractionlikeAna.Igazeat thegliderkitonmydeskand trace theedgesof theboxwithmy finger, knowing that
Ana’sfingershavetouchedit.MysweetAnastasia.WhatacontrastyouaretoallthewomenI’veknown.TheonlywomanI’veeverchased,andthe
onewomanwhocan’tgivemewhatIwant.Idon’tunderstand.I’vecomealivesinceI’veknownher.Theselastfewweekshavebeenthemostexciting,themost
unpredictable, themost fascinating inmy life. I’vebeenenticed frommymonochromeworld intoonerichwithcolor—andyetshecan’tbewhatIneed.
Iputmyheadinmyhands.ShewillneverlikewhatIdo.Itriedtoconvincemyselfthatwecouldworkupto theroughershit,but that’snotgoingtohappen,ever.She’sbetteroffwithoutme.Whatwouldshewantwithafucked-upmonsterwhocan’tbeartobetouched?
Andyetsheboughtmethisthoughtfulgift.Whodoesthatforme,apartfrommyfamily?Istudythe box oncemore and open it. All the plastic parts of the craft are stuck on one grid, swathed incellophane.Memoriesofhersquealinginthegliderduringthewingovercometomind—herhandsup,bracedagainstthePerspexcanopy.Ican’thelpbutsmile.
Lord, that was somuch fun—the equivalent of pulling her pigtails in the playground. Ana inpigtails…Ishutdownthatthoughtimmediately.Idon’twanttogothere,ourfirstbath.AndallI’mleftwithisthethoughtthatIwon’tseeheragain.
Theabyssyawnsopen.No.Notagain.I need to make this plane. It will be a distraction. Ripping open the cellophane, I scan the
instructions.Ineedglue,modelingglue.Isearchthroughmydeskdrawers.Shit.NestledatthebackofonedrawerIfindtheredleatherboxcontainingtheCartierearrings.I
nevergotthechancetogivethemtoher—andnowIneverwill.
IcallAndreaandleaveamessageonhercell,askinghertocanceltonight.Ican’tfacethegala,notwithoutmydate.
Iopentheredleatherboxandexaminetheearrings.Theyarebeautiful:simpleyetelegant,justlike the enchanting Miss Steele…who left me this morning because I punished her…because Ipushedher toohard. Icradlemyheadonceagain.But she letme.Shedidn’t stopme.She letmebecauseshelovesme.Thethoughtishorrifying,andIdismissitimmediately.Shecan’t.It’ssimple:noonecanfeellikethataboutme.Notiftheyknowme.
Moveon,Grey.Focus.Where’s the damned glue? I stash the earrings back in the drawer and continue my search.
Nothing.IbuzzTaylor.“Mr.Grey?”“Ineedsomemodelingglue.”Hepausesforamoment.“Forwhatsortofmodel,sir?”“Amodelglider.”“Balsawoodorplastic?”“Plastic.”“Ihavesome.I’llbringitdownnow,sir.”Ithankhim,alittlestunnedthathehasmodelingglue.Momentslaterheknocksonthedoor.“Comein.”Hepacesintomystudyandplacesthesmallplasticcontaineronmydesk.Hedoesn’tleaveandI
havetoask.“Whydoyouhavethis?”“Ibuildtheoddplane.”Hisfacereddens.“Oh?”Mycuriosityispiqued.“Flyingwasmyfirstlove,sir.”Idon’tunderstand.“Colorblind,”heexplainsflatly.“SoyoubecameaMarine?”“Yes,sir.”“Thankyouforthis.”“Noproblem,Mr.Grey.Haveyoueaten?”Hisquestiontakesmebysurprise.“I’m not hungry, Taylor. Please, go, enjoy the afternoon with your daughter, and I’ll see you
tomorrow.Iwon’tbotheryouagain.”Hepausesforamoment,andmyirritationbuilds.Go.“I’mgood.”Hell,myvoiceischoked.“Sir.”Henods.“I’llreturntomorrowevening.”
Igivehimaquickdismissivenod,andhe’sgone.Whenwas the last timeTaylorofferedmeanything to eat? Imust lookmore fuckedup than I
thought.Sulking,Igrabtheglue.
THEGLIDERISINthepalmofmyhand.Imarvelatitwithasenseofachievement,memoriesofthatflightnudgingmyconsciousness.Anastasiawasimpossibletowake—IsmileasIrecall—andonceupshewasdifficult,disarmingandbeautiful,andfunny.
Christ, thatwas fun: her girlish excitement during the flight, the squealing, and afterward, ourkiss.
Itwasmyfirstattemptatmore. It’sextraordinary thatoversuchashort timeIhavecollectedsomanyhappymemories.
Thepainsurfacesoncemore—nagging,aching,remindingmeofallthatI’velost.Focusontheglider,Grey.NowIhavetostickthetransfersinplace;they’refiddlylittlesuckers.
FINALLY THE LASTONE is on and drying.My glider has its ownFAA registration.November.Nine.Five.Two.Echo.Charlie.
EchoCharlie.Ilookupandthelightisfading.It’slate.MyfirstthoughtisthatIcanshowthistoAna.NomoreAna.Iclenchmyteethandstretchmystiffshoulders.Standingslowly,IrealizeIhaven’teatenallday
orhadanythingtodrink,andmyheadisthrobbing.Ifeellikeshit.Icheckmyphoneinthehopethatshe’scalled,butthere’sonlyatextfromAndrea.
CCGalacanx.
Hopeallwell.
A
While I’m readingAndrea’smessage thephonebuzzes.Myheart rate immediately spikes, thenfallswhenIrecognizeit’sElena.
“Hello.”Idon’tbothertodisguisemydisappointment.“Christian,isthatanywaytosayhi?What’seatingyou?”shescolds,buthervoiceisfullofhumor.Istareoutthewindow.It’sduskoverSeattle.IwonderbrieflywhatAnaisdoing.Idon’twantto
tellElenawhat’shappened;Idon’twanttosaythewordsoutloudandmakethemareality.“Christian?Whatgives?Tellme.”Hertoneshiftstobrusqueandannoyed.“Sheleftme,”Imutter,soundingmorose.“Oh.”Elenasoundssurprised.“Wantmetocomeover?”“No.”Shetakesadeepbreath.“Thislifeisn’tforeveryone.”
“Iknow.”“Hell,Christian,yousoundlikeshit.Doyouwanttogoouttodinner?”“No.”“I’mcomingover.”“No,Elena.I’mnotgoodcompany.I’mtiredandIwanttobealone.I’llcallyouduringtheweek.”“Christian…it’sforthebest.”“Iknow.Good-bye.”Ihangup. Idon’twant to talk toher; sheencouragedmeto flydowntoSavannah.Perhapsshe
knewthisdaywouldcome.Iscowlatthephone,tossitontomydesk,andgoinsearchofsomethingtodrinkandeat.
IEXAMINETHECONTENTSofmyfridge.Nothingappeals.InthecupboardIfindabagofpretzels.IopenthemandeatoneaftertheotherasIwalktothe
window.Outside,nighthasfallen;lightstwinkleandwinkthroughthepouringrain.Theworldmoveson.
Moveon,Grey.Moveon.
SUNDAY,JUNE5,2011
I gaze up at the bedroom ceiling. Sleep eludesme. I’m tormented by Ana’s fragrance, which stillclingstomybedsheets.Ipullherpillowovermyfacetobreatheinherscent.It’storture,it’sheaven,andforamomentIcontemplatedeathbysuffocation.
Getagrip,Grey.I rerun themorning’sevents inmyhead.Could theyhaveunfoldedanydifferently?Asa rule I
neverdothis,becauseit’sawasteofenergy,buttodayI’mlookingforcluesastowhereIwentwrong.AndnomatterhowIplayitout,Iknowinmyboneswewouldhavereachedthisimpasse,whetheritwasthismorning,orinaweek,oramonth,orayear.Betterthatithappenednow,beforeIinflictedanyfurtherpainonAnastasia.
Ithinkofherhuddledinherlittlewhitebed.Ican’tpictureherinthenewapartment—I’venotbeen there—but I imagineher in that roominVancouverwhere Ionce sleptwithher. I shakemyhead;thatwasthebestnight’ssleepI’dhadinyears.Theradioalarmreads2:00inthemorning.Ihavelainherefortwohours,mymindchurning.Itakeadeepbreath,inhalingherscentoncemore,andIclosemyeyes.
Mommycan’tseeme.Istandinfrontofher.Shecan’tseeme.She’sasleepwithhereyesopen.Orsick.Iheararattle.Hiskeys.He’sback.Irunandhideandmakemyselfsmallunderthetableinthekitchen.Mycarsareherewithme.Bang.Thedoorslamsshut,makingmejump.ThroughmyfingersIseeMommy.Sheturnsherheadtoseehim.Thenshe’sasleeponthecouch.He’swearinghisbigbootswiththeshinybucklesandstandingoverMommyshouting.HehitsMommywithabelt.GetUp!GetUp!Youareonefucked-upbitch.Youareonefucked-upbitch.Mommymakesanoise.Awailingnoise.Stop.StophittingMommy.StophittingMommy.IrunathimandhithimandIhithimandIhithim.Buthelaughsandsmacksmeacrosstheface.No!Mommyshouts.Youareonefucked-upbitch.Mommymakesherselfsmall.Smalllikeme.Andthenshe’squiet.Youareonefucked-upbitch.Youareonefucked-upbitch.Youareonefucked-upbitch.Iamunderthetable.IhavemyfingersinmyearsandIclosemyeyes.Thesoundstops.HeturnsandIcanseehisbootsashestompsintothekitchen.Hecarriesthebelt,slapping
itagainsthisleg.Heistryingtofindme.Hestoopsdownandgrins.Hesmellsnasty.Ofsmokinganddrinkingandbadsmells.Thereyouare,youlittleshit.
Achillingwailwakesme.I’mdrenchedinsweatandmyheart ispounding.I sitboltupright inbed.
Fuck.Theeerienoisewasfromme.I take a deep steadying breath, trying to ridmymemory of the smell of body odor and cheap
bourbonandstaleCamelcigarettes.Youareonefucked-upsonofabitch.Ana’swordsringinmyhead.Likehis.Fuck.Icouldn’thelpthecrackwhore.Itried.GoodGod,Itried.Thereyouare,youlittleshit.ButIcouldhelpAna.Ilethergo.Ihadtolethergo.Shedidn’tneedallthisshit.Iglanceat theclock: it’s3:30. Iheadinto thekitchenandafterdrinkinga largeglassofwaterI
makemywaytothepiano.
IWAKEAGAINWITHajoltandit’slight—early-morningsunshinefillstheroom.IwasdreamingofAna:Anakissingme,hertongueinmymouth,myfingersinherhair;pressingherdelectablebodyagainstme,herhandstetheredaboveherhead.
Whereisshe?ForonesweetmomentIforgetallthattranspiredyesterday—thenitfloodsback.She’sgone.Fuck.Theevidenceofmydesirepressesintothemattress—butthememoryofherbrighteyes,clouded
withhurtandhumiliationassheleft,soonsolvesthatproblem.Feelinglikeshit,Ilieonmybackandstareattheceiling,armsbehindmyhead.Thedaystretches
outbeforeme,andforthefirsttimeinyears,Idon’tknowwhattodowithmyself.Icheckthetimeagain:5:58.
Hell,Imightaswellgoforarun.
PROKOFIEV’S “ARRIVAL OF THEMontagues andCapulets” blares inmy ears as I pound the sidewalk
through theearlymorningquietofFourthAvenue. I acheeverywhere—my lungs arebursting,myheadisthrobbing,andtheyawning,dullacheoflosseatsawayatmyinsides.Icannotrunfromthispain, though I’m trying. I stop to change the music and drag precious air into my lungs. I wantsomething…violent.“PumpIt,”bytheBlackEyedPeas,yeah.Ipickupthepace.
IfindmyselfrunningdownVineStreet,andIknowit’sinsane,butIhopetoseeher.AsInearherstreetmyheartracesstillharderandmyanxietyescalates.I’mnotdesperatetoseeher—Ijustwanttocheck that she’s okay.No, that’s not true. I want to see her. Finally on her street, I pace past herapartmentbuilding.
Allisquiet—anOldsmobiletrundlesuptheroad,twodogwalkersareout—butthere’snosignoflifefrominsideherapartment.Crossingthestreet,Ipauseonthesidewalkopposite,thenduckintothedoorwayofanapartmentbuildingtocatchmybreath.
Thecurtainsofoneroomareclosed,theothersopen.Perhapsthat’sherroom.Maybeshe’sstillasleep—if she’s there at all. A nightmare scenario forms inmymind: shewent out last night, gotdrunk,metsomeone…
No.Bilerisesinmythroat.Thethoughtofherbodyinsomeoneelse’shands,someassholebaskingin
thewarmthofhersmile,makinghergiggle,makingherlaugh—makinghercome.Ittakesallmyself-controlnottogobargingthroughthefrontdoorofherapartmenttocheckthatshe’sthereandonherown.
Youbroughtthisonyourself,Grey.Forgether.She’snotforyou.ItugmySeahawkscaplowovermyfaceandsprintondownWesternAvenue.My jealousy is raw and angry; it fills the gapinghole. I hate it—it stirs something deep inmy
psychethatIreallydon’twanttoexamine.Irunharder,awayfromthatmemory,awayfromthepain,awayfromAnastasiaSteele.
IT’SDUSKOVERSEATTLE.Istandupandstretch.I’vebeenatmydeskinmystudyallday,andit’sbeenproductive.Roshasworkedhard,too.She’spreparedandsentmeafirstdraftbusinessplanandletterofintentforSIP.
AtleastI’llbeabletokeepaneyeonAna.Thethoughtispainfulandappealinginequalmeasure.I’vereadandcommentedontwopatentapplications,afewcontracts,andanewdesignspec,and
while lost in thedetailof those, Ihavenot thoughtabouther.The littleglider is stillonmydesk,tauntingme,remindingmeofhappiertimes,likeshesaid.Ipictureherstandinginthedoorwayofmystudy,wearingoneofmyT-shirts,alllonglegsandblueeyes,justbeforesheseducedme.
Anotherfirst.Imissher.There—Iadmitit.Icheckmyphone,hopinginvain,andthere’satextfromElliot.
Beer,hotshot?
Irespond:
No.Busy.
Elliot’sresponseisimmediate.
Fuckyou,then.
Yeah.Fuckme.NothingfromAna:nomissedcall.Noe-mail.Thenaggingpaininmygutintensifies.She’snot
goingtocall.Shewantedout.Shewantedtogetawayfromme,andIcan’tblameher.It’sforthebest.Iheadtothekitchenforachangeofscenery.Gailisback.Thekitchenhasbeencleaned,andthere’sapotbubblingonthestove.Smellsgood…
butI’mnothungry.ShewalksinwhileI’meyeingwhat’scooking.“Goodevening,sir.”“Gail.”Shepauses—surprisedbysomething.Surprisedbyme?Shit,Imustlookbad.“ChickenChasseur?”sheasks,hervoiceuncertain.“Sure,”Imutter.“Fortwo?”sheasks.Istareather,andshelooksembarrassed.“Forone.”“Tenminutes?”shesays,hervoicewavering.“Fine.”Myvoiceisfrigid.Iturntoleave.“Mr.Grey?”Shestopsme.“What,Gail?”“It’snothing.Sorrytodisturbyou.”Sheturnstothestovetostirthechicken,andIheadofftohave
anothershower.Christ,evenmystaffhavenoticedthatsomething’srotteninthestateoffuckingDenmark.
MONDAY,JUNE6,2011
I dread going to bed. It’s after midnight, and I’m tired, but I sit at my piano, playing the BachMarcello piece over and over again.Remembering her head resting onmy shoulder, I can almostsmellhersweetfragrance.
Forfuck’ssake,shesaidshe’dtry!Istopplayingandclutchmyheadinbothhands,myelbowshammeringouttwodiscordantchords
asIleanonthekeys.Shesaidshe’dtry,butshefellatthefirsthurdle.Thensheran.WhydidIhithersohard?DeepinsideIknowtheanswer—becausesheaskedmeto,andIwastooimpetuousandselfishto
resist the temptation.Seducedbyherchallenge, I seized theopportunity tomoveuson towhere Iwantedustobe.Andshedidn’tsafe-word,andIhurthermorethanshecouldtake—whenIpromisedherI’dneverdothat.
WhatafuckingfoolIam.Howcouldshetrustmeafterthat?It’srightthatshe’sgone.Whythehellwouldshewanttobewithme,anyway?Icontemplategettingdrunk. Ihavenotbeendrunk since Iwas fifteen—well,once,when Iwas
twenty-one.Iloathethelossofcontrol:Iknowwhatalcoholcandotoaman.Ishudderandsnapmymindshuttothosememories,anddecidetocallitanight.
Lyinginmybed,Iprayforadreamlesssleep…butifIamtodream,Iwanttodreamofher.
Mommyisprettytoday.Shesitsdownandletsmebrushherhair.Shelooksatmeinthemirrorandshesmilesherspecialsmile.Herspecialsmileforme.Thereisaloudnoise.Acrash.He’sback.No!Wherethefuckareyou,bitch?Gotafriendinneedhere.Afriendwithdough.Mommystandsandtakesmyhandandpushesmeintohercloset.Isitonhershoesandtrytobequietandcovermyearsandclosemyeyestight.TheclothessmellofMommy.Ilikethesmell.Ilikebeinghere.Awayfromhim.Heisshouting.Whereisthelittlefuckingrunt?Hehasmyhairandhepullsmeoutofthecloset.Don’twantyouspoilingtheparty,youlittleshit.HeslapsMommyhardonherface.Makeitgoodformyfriendandyougetyourfix,bitch.Mommylooksatmeandshehastears.Don’tcry,Mommy.Anothermancomesintotheroom.Abigmanwithdirtyhair.ThebigmansmilesatMommy.Iampulledintotheotherroom.HepushesmeontothefloorandIhurtmyknees.Now,whatamIgoingtodowithyou,youpieceofshit?Hesmellsnasty.Hesmellsofbeerandheissmokingacigarette.
Iwake.MyheartishammeringlikeI’verunfortyblockschasedbythehoundsofhell.Ivaultoutofbed,pushingthenightmarebackintotherecessesofmyconsciousness,andhurrytothekitchentofetchaglassofwater.
Ineed to seeFlynn.Thenightmaresareworse thanever. Ididn’thavenightmareswhenI sleptwithAnabesideme.
Hell.Itnever occurred tome to sleepwith anyofmy subs.Well, Inever felt the inclination.Was I
worriedthattheymighttouchmeinthenight?Idon’tknow.Ittookaninebriatedinnocenttoshowmehowrestfulitcouldbe.
I’dwatchedmysubssleepbefore,butitwasalwaysasapreludetowakingthemforsomesexualrelief.
IremembergazingatAnaforhourswhenshesleptatTheHeathman.ThelongerIwatchedherthemorebeautifulshebecame:herflawlessskinluminousinthesoftlight,herdarkhairfanningoutonthewhitepillow,andhereyelashesflutteringwhilesheslept.Herlipswereparted,andIcouldseeherteeth,andhertonguewhenshelickedherlips.Itwasamostarousingexperience—justwatchingher.AndwhenIfinallywenttosleepbesideher,listeningtoherevenbreathing,watchingherbreastsriseandfallwitheachbreath,Isleptwell…sowell.
Iwanderintomystudyandpickuptheglider.Thesightofitelicitsafondsmileandcomfortsme.IfeelbothproudtohavemadeitandridiculousforwhatIamabouttodo.Itwasherlastgifttome.Herfirstgiftbeing…what?
Ofcourse.Herself.Shesacrificedherselftomyneed.Mygreed.Mylust.Myego…myfuckingdamagedego.Damn,willthispaineverjuststop?Feelingalittlefoolish,Itakethegliderwithmetobed.
“WHATWOULDYOULIKEforbreakfast,sir?”“Justcoffee,Gail.”Shehesitates.“Sir,youdidn’teatyourdinner.”“And?”“Maybeyou’recomingdownwithsomething.”“Gail, justcoffee.Please.” I shutherdown—this isnoneofherbusiness.Her lips thin,but she
nodsandturnstotheGaggia.Iheadintothestudytocollectmypapersfortheofficeandlookforapaddedenvelope.
ICALLROSFROMthecar.“GreatworkontheSIPmaterial,butthebusinessplanneedssomerevision.Let’soffer.”“Christian,thisisfast.”“Iwanttomovequickly.I’vee-mailedyoumythoughtsontheofferingprice.I’llbeintheoffice
fromseventhirty.Let’smeet.”
“Ifyou’resure.”“I’msure.”“Okay.I’llcallAndreatoschedule.IhavethestatsonDetroitv.Savannah.”“Bottomline?”“Detroit.”“Isee.”Shit…notSavannah.“Let’stalklater.”Ihangup.Isit,broodinginthebackoftheAudi,asTaylorspeedsthroughthetraffic.IwonderhowAnastasia
willbegettingtoworkthismorning.Perhapssheboughtacaryesterday,thoughsomehowIdoubtit.Iwonder if she feels asmiserable as I do…I hope not.Maybe she’s realized that I was a ridiculousinfatuation.
Shecan’tloveme.Andcertainlynotnow—notafterall I’vedone toher.Noone’sever said they lovedme,except
MomandDad,ofcourse,buteventhenitwasoutoftheirsenseofduty.Flynn’snaggingwordsaboutunconditionalparental love—even forkidswhoareadopted—ring inmyhead.But I’veneverbeenconvinced;I’vebeennothingbutadisappointmenttothem.
“Mr.Grey?”“Sorry,whatisit?”Taylorhascaughtmeunawares.He’sholdingthecardooropen,waitingforme
withalookofconcern.“We’rehere,sir.”Shit…howlonghavewebeenhere?“Thanks.I’llletyouknowwhattimethisevening.”Focus,Grey.
ANDREAANDOLIVIABOTHlookupasIcomeoutoftheelevator.Oliviafluttershereyelashesandtucksastrandofhairbehindherear.Christ—I’mdonewiththissillygirl.IneedHRtomovehertoanotherdepartment.
“Coffee,please,Olivia—andgetmeacroissant.”Sheleapsuptofollowmyorders.“Andrea—getmeWelch,Barney,thenFlynn,thenClaudeBastilleonthephone.Idon’twantto
bedisturbedatall,notevenbymymother…unless…unlessAnastasiaSteelecalls.Okay?”“Yes,sir.Doyouwanttogothroughyourschedulenow?”“No.Ineedcoffeeandsomethingtoeatfirst.”IscowlatOlivia,whoismovingatasnail’space
towardtheelevator.“Yes,Mr.Grey,”AndreacallsaftermeasIopenthedoortomyoffice.FrommybriefcaseItakethepaddedenvelopethatholdsmymostpreciouspossession—theglider.
Iplaceitonmydesk,andmyminddriftstoMissSteele.She’ll be starting her new job this morning, meeting new people…new men. The thought is
depressing.She’llforgetme.No, she won’t forgetme.Women always remember the first man they fucked, don’t they? I’ll
alwaysholdaplaceinhermemory,forthatalone.ButIdon’twanttobeamemory:Iwanttostayinhermind.Ineedtostayinhermind.WhatcanIdo?
There’saknockatthedoorandAndreaappears.“Coffeeandcroissantsforyou,Mr.Grey.”“Comein.”Asshescurriesover tomydeskhereyesdart to theglider,butwiselysheholdsher tongue.She
placesbreakfastonmydesk.Blackcoffee.Welldone,Andrea.“Thanks.”“I’veleftmessagesforWelch,Barney,andBastille.Flynniscallingbackinfive.”“Good.IwantyoutocancelanysocialengagementsIhavethisweek.Nolunches,nothinginthe
evening.GetBarneyonthephoneandfindmethenumberofagoodflorist.”Shescribblesfuriouslyonhernotepad.“Sir,weuseArcadia’sRoses.Wouldyoulikemetosendflowersforyou?”“No,givemethenumber.I’lldoitmyself.That’sall.”Shenodsandleavespromptly,asifshecan’tgetoutofmyofficefastenough.Afewmomentslater
thephonebuzzes.It’sBarney.“Barney,Ineedyoutomakemeastandforamodelglider.”
BETWEENMEETINGSICALLthefloristandordertwodozenwhiterosesforAna,tobedeliveredtoherhomethisevening.Thatwayshewon’tbeembarrassedorinconveniencedatwork.
Andshewon’tbeabletoforgetme.“Wouldyoulikeamessagewiththeflowers,sir?”thefloristasks.AmessageforAna?Whattosay?Comeback.I’msorry.Iwon’thityouagain.Thewordspopunbiddenintomyhead,makingmefrown.“Um…somethinglike,‘Congratulationsonyourfirstdayatwork.Ihopeitwentwell.’ ”Ispythe
glideronmydesk.“ ‘Andthankyoufortheglider.Thatwasverythoughtful.Ithasprideofplaceonmydesk.Christian.’ ”
Thefloristreadsitbacktome.Damn,itdoesn’texpresswhatIwanttosaytoheratall.“Willthatbeall,Mr.Grey?”“Yes.Thankyou.”“You’rewelcome,sir,andhaveaniceday.”Ilookdaggersatthephone.Nicedaymyass.
“HEY,MAN,WHAT’SEATINGyou?”Claudegetsupfromthefloor,whereI’vejustknockedhimflatonhislean,meanrearend.“You’reonfirethisafternoon,Grey.”Herisesslowly,withthegraceofabigcatreassessingitsprey.WearesparringaloneinthebasementgymatGreyHouse.
“I’mpissedoff,”Ihiss.Hisexpressioniscoolaswecircleeachother.“Notagoodideatoentertheringifyourthoughtsareelsewhere,”Claudesays,amused,butnot
takinghiseyesoffme.“I’mfindingithelps.”“Moreonyourleft.Protectyourright.Handup,Grey.”Heswingsandhitsmeonmyshoulder,almostknockingmeoffbalance.“Concentrate,Grey.Noneofyourboardroombullshitinhere.Orisitagirl?Somefinepieceof
assfinallycrampingyourcool.”Hesneers,goadingme.Itworks:Imiddle-kicktohissideanddrop-punchonce,thentwice,andhestaggersback,dreadlocksflying.
“Mindyourownfuckingbusiness,Bastille.”“Whoa,wehavefoundthesourceofthepain,”Claudecrowsintriumph.Heswingssuddenly,but
Ianticipatehisactionandblockhim,thrustingupwithapunchandaswiftkick.Hejumpsbackthistime,impressed.
“Whatevershit’shappeninginyourprivilegedlittleworld,Grey,it’sworking.Bringiton.”Oh,heisgoingdown.Ilungeathim.
THETRAFFICISLIGHTonthewayhome.“Taylor,canwemakeadetour?”“Whereto,sir?”“CanyoudrivepastMissSteele’sapartment?”“Yes,sir.”I’vegotusedtothisache.Itseemstobeever-present,liketinnitus.Inmeetingsit’smutedandless
obtrusive;it’sonlywhenI’malonewithmythoughtsthatitflaresupandragesinsideme.Howlongdoesthislast?
Asweapproachherapartment,myheartbeatspikes.PerhapsI’llseeher.Thepossibility is thrilling andunsettling.And I realize that I have thought of nothingbut her
sincesheleft.Herabsenceismyconstantcompanion.“Driveslow,”IinstructTayloraswenearherbuilding.Thelightsareon.She’shome!Ihopeshe’salone,andmissingme.Hasshereceivedmyflowers?Iwanttocheckmyphonetoseeifshe’ssentmeamessage,butIcan’tdragmygazeawayfromher
apartment;Idon’twanttomissseeingher.Isshewell?Isshethinkingaboutme?Iwonderhowherfirstdayatworkwent.
“Again,sir?”Taylorasks,asweslowlycruisepast,andtheapartmentdisappearsfromview.
“No.”Iexhale;Ihadn’trealizedI’dstoppedbreathing.AsweheadbacktoEscalaIsiftthroughmye-mailsandtexts,hopingforsomethingfromher…butthere’snothing.There’satextfromElena.
Youokay?
Iignoreit.
IT’S QUIET IN MY apartment; I’d not really noticed before. Anastasia’s absence has accentuated thesilence.
Takingasipofcognac,Iwanderlistlesslyintomylibrary.It’sironicInevershowedherthisroom,givenherloveofliterature.Iexpecttofindsomesolaceinherebecausetheroomholdsnomemoriesofus.Isurveyallmybooks,neatlyshelvedandcataloged,andmyeyesstraytothebilliardtable.Doessheplaybilliards?Idon’tsupposeshedoes.
An imageofher spread-eagledover thegreenbaize springs tomymind.Theremaynotbeanymemoriesinhere,butmymindismorethancapable,andmorethanwilling, tocreatevivideroticimagesofthelovelyMissSteele.
Ican’tbearit.Itakeanotherswigofcognacandheadoutoftheroom.
TUESDAY,JUNE7,2011
We’refucking.Fuckinghard.Againstthebathroomdoor.She’smine.Iburymyselfinher,againandagain.Gloryinginher:thefeelofher,hersmell,hertaste.Fistingmyhandinherhair,holdingherinplace.Holdingherass.Herlegswrappedaroundmywaist.Shecannotmove;she’spinionedbyme.Wrappedaroundmelikesilk.Herhandspullingmyhair.Ohyes.I’mhome,she’shome.ThisistheplaceIwanttobe…insideher…She.Is.Mine.Hermusclesaretighteningasshecomes,clenchingaroundme,herheadback.Comeforme!ShecriesoutandIfollow…ohyes,mysweet,sweetAnastasia.Shesmiles,sleepy,sated—andohsosexy.Shestandsandgazesatme,thatplayfulsmileonherlips,thenpushesmeawayandwalksbackward,sayingnothing.Igrabherandwe’reintheplayroom.I’mholdingherdownoverthebench.Iraisemyarmtopunishher,beltinhand…andshedisappears.She’sbythedoor.Herfacewhite,shockedandsad,andshe’ssilentlydriftingaway…Thedoorhasdisappeared,andshewon’tstop.Sheholdsoutherhandsinentreaty.Joinme,shewhispers,butshe’smovingbackward,gettingfainter…disappearingbeforemyeyes…vanishing…she’sgone.No!Ishout.No!ButIhavenovoice.Ihavenothing.I’mmute.Mute…again.
Iwake,confused.Shit—it’sadream.Anothervividdream.Different,though.Hell!I’mastickymess.BrieflyIfeelthatlong-forgottenbutfamiliarsenseoffearandexhilaration
—butElenadoesn’townmenow.JesusH.Christ,I’vecomeforTeamUSA.Thishasn’thappenedtomesinceIwas,what?Fifteen,
sixteen?I lie back in the darkness, disgusted withmyself. I dragmyT-shirt off and wipemyself down.
There’ssemeneverywhere.Ifindmyselfsmirkinginthedarkness,despitethedullacheofloss.Theeroticdreamwasworthit.Therestofit…fuckinghell.Iturnoverandgobacktosleep.
Heisgone.Mommyissittingonthecouch.Sheisquiet.Shelooksatthewallandblinkssometimes.Istandinfrontofher,butshedoesn’tseeme.Iwaveandsheseesme,butshewavesmeaway.No,Maggot,notnow.HehurtsMommy.Hehurtsme.Ihatehim.Hemakesmesomad.It’sbestwhenit’sjustMommyandme.Sheisminethen.MyMommy.Mytummyhurts.Itishungryagain.Iaminthekitchen,lookingforcookies.Ipullthechairtothecupboardandclimbup.Ifindaboxofcrackers.Itistheonlythinginthe
cupboard.Isitdownonthechairandopenthebox.Therearetwoleft.Ieatthem.Theytastegood.Ihearhim.He’sback.IjumpdownandIruntomybedroomandclimbintobed.Ipretendtobeasleep.Hepokesmewithhisfinger.Stayhere,youlittleshit.I’mgoingtofuckyourbitchofamother.Idon’twanttoseeyourfuck-uglyfacefortherestoftheevening.Understand?HeslapsmyfacewhenIdon’treply.Oryougettheburn,youlittleprick.No.No.Idon’tlikethat.Idon’tliketheburn.Ithurts.Gotit,retard?Iknowhewantsmetocry.Butit’shard.Ican’tmakethenoise.Hehitsmewithhisfist—
Startledawakeagain,Iliepantinginthepaledawnlight,waitingformyheartratetoslow,tryingtolosetheacridtasteoffearinmymouth.
Shesavedyoufromthisshit,Grey.Youdidn’trelivethepainofthesememorieswhenshewaswithyou.Whydidyouletherleave?Iglanceattheclock:5:15.Timeforarun.
HER BUILDING LOOKSGLOOMY; it’s still in shadow, untouched by the early-morning sun. Fitting. Itreflectsmymood.Her apartment is dark inside, yet the curtains to the room Iwatchedbefore aredrawn.Itmustbeherroom.
IhopetoGodthatshe’ssleepingaloneupthere.Ienvisagehercurleduponherwhiteironbed,asmallballofAna.Isshedreamingofme?DoIgivehernightmares?Hassheforgottenme?
I’venever felt thismiserable,not evenas a teenager.Maybebefore Iwas aGrey…mymemoryspiralsback.No,no—notawakeaswell.Thisis toomuch.Pullingmyhoodupandleaningagainstthegranitewall, I’mhiddenin thedoorwayof thebuildingopposite.Theawful thoughtcrossesmymindthat Imightbestandinghere inaweek,amonth…ayear?Watching,waiting, just tocatchaglimpseof thegirlwhoused tobemine. It’spainful. I’vebecomewhat she’s alwaysaccusedmeofbeing—herstalker.
Ican’tgoonlikethis.Ihavetoseeher.Seethatshe’sokay.IneedtoerasethelastimageIhaveofher:hurt,humiliated,defeated…andleavingme.
Ihavetothinkofaway.
BACKATESCALA,GAILwatchesmeimpassively.“Ididn’taskforthis.”Istareattheomeletshe’splacedinfrontofme.“I’llthrowitaway,then,Mr.Grey,”shesays,andreachesfortheplate.SheknowsIhatewaste,but
shedoesn’tquailatmyhardstare.“Youdidthisonpurpose,Mrs.Jones.”Interferingwoman.Andshesmiles,asmallvictorioussmile.Iscowl,butshe’sunfazed,andwiththememoryoflast
night’snightmarelingering,Idevourmybreakfast.
COULDIJUSTCALLAnaandsayhi?Wouldshetakemycall?Myeyeswandertotheglideronmydesk.Sheaskedforacleanbreak.Ishouldhonorthatandleaveheralone.ButIwanttohearhervoice.For
amomentIcontemplatecallingherandhangingup,justtohearherspeak.“Christian?Christian,areyouokay?”“Sorry,Ros,whatwasthat?”“You’resodistracted.I’veneverseenyoulikethis.”“I’mfine,”Isnap.Shit—concentrate,Grey.“Whatwereyousaying?”Roseyesmesuspiciously.“IwassayingthatSIPisinmorefinancialdifficultythanwethought.
Areyousureyouwanttogoahead?”“Yes.”Myvoiceisvehement.“Iam.”“Theirteamwillbeherethisafternoontosigntheheadsofagreement.”“Good.Now,what’sthelatestonourproposalforEamonKavanagh?”
ISTANDBROODING,STARINGdownthroughtheslattedwoodenblindsatTaylor,whoisparkedoutsideFlynn’soffice.It’slateafternoonandI’mstillthinkingaboutAna.
“Christian,I’mmorethanhappytotakeyourmoneyandwatchyoustareoutthewindow,butIdon’tthinktheviewisthereasonyou’rehere,”Flynnsays.
WhenIturntofacehimhe’sregardingmewithanairofpoliteanticipation.Isighandmakemywaytohiscouch.
“Thenightmaresareback.Likeneverbefore.”Flynnliftsabrow.“Thesameones?”“Yes.”“What’schanged?”Hecockshisheadtooneside,waitingformyresponse.WhenIremainmute,
headds,“Christian,youlookasmiserableassin.Something’shappened.”IfeellikeIdidwithElena;partofmedoesn’twanttotellhim,becausethenit’sreal.“Imetagirl.”“And?”“Sheleftme.”Helookssurprised.“Womenhaveleftyoubefore.Whyisthisdifferent?”Istareathimblankly.Whyisitdifferent?BecauseAnawasdifferent.My thoughts blur together in a colorful tangled tapestry: she wasn’t a submissive.We had no
contract.Shewassexuallyinexperienced.ShewasthefirstwomanIwantedmorefromthanjustsex.Christ—allthefirstsIexperiencedwithher:thefirstgirlI’dsleptbeside,thefirstvirgin,thefirsttomeetmyfamily,thefirsttoflyinCharlieTango,thefirstItooksoaring.
Yeah…Different.Flynninterruptsmythoughts.“It’sasimplequestion,Christian.”“Imissher.”Hisfaceremainskindandconcerned,buthegivesnothingaway.
“You’venevermissedanyofthewomenyouwereinvolvedwithpreviously?”“No.”“Sotherewassomethingdifferentabouther,”heprompts.Ishrug,buthepersists.“Didyouhaveacontractualrelationshipwithher?Wassheasubmissive?”“I’dhopedshewouldbe.Butitwasn’tforher.”Flynnfrowns.“Idon’tunderstand.”“Ibrokeoneofmyrules.Ichasedthisgirl,thinkingthatshe’dbeinterested,anditturnedoutit
wasn’tforher.”“Tellmewhathappened.”The floodgatesopenand I recount thepastmonth’s events, from themomentAna fell intomy
officetowhensheleftlastSaturdaymorning.“I see.You’vecertainlypackeda lot in sincewe last spoke.”He rubshischinashe studiesme.
“Therearemanyissueshere,Christian.ButrightnowtheoneIwanttofocusonishowyoufeltwhenshesaidshelovedyou.”
Iinhalesharply,myguttighteningwithfear.“Horrified,”Iwhisper.“Ofcourseyoudid.”Heshakeshishead.“You’renotthemonsteryouthinkyouare.You’remore
thanworthyofaffection,Christian.Youknowthat.I’vetoldyouoftenenough.It’sonlyinyourmindthatyou’renot.”
Igivehimalevelgaze,ignoringhisplatitude.“Andhowdoyoufeelnow?”heasks.Lost.Ifeellost.“Imissher.Iwanttoseeher.”I’mintheconfessionaloncemore,owninguptomysins:thedark,
darkneedthatIhaveforher,asifshewereanaddiction.“Soinspiteofthefactthat,asyouperceiveit,shecouldn’tfulfillyourneeds,youmissher?”“Yes.It’snotjustmyperception,John.Shecan’tbewhatIwanthertobe,andIcan’tbewhatshe
wantsmetobe.”“Areyousure?”“Shewalkedout.”“Shewalkedoutbecauseyoubeltedher.Ifshedoesn’tshareyourtastes,canyoublameher?”“No.”“Haveyouthoughtabouttryingarelationshipherway?”What?Istareathim,shocked.Hecontinues,“Didyoufindsexualrelationswithhersatisfying?”“Yes,ofcourse,”Isnap,irritated.Heignoresmytone.“Didyoufindbeatinghersatisfying?”“Very.”“Wouldyouliketodoitagain?”
Dothattoheragain?Andwatchherwalkout—again?“No.”“Andwhy’sthat?”“Becauseit’snotherscene.Ihurther.Reallyhurther…andshecan’t…shewon’t…”Ipause.“She
doesn’tenjoyit.Shewasangry.Reallyfuckingangry.”Herexpression,herwoundedeyes,willhauntmeforalongtime…andIneverwanttobethecauseofthatlookagain.
“Areyousurprised?”Ishakemyhead.“Shewasmad,”Iwhisper.“I’dneverseenhersoangry.”“Howdidthatmakeyoufeel?”“Helpless.”“Andthat’safamiliarfeeling,”heprompts.“Familiar,how?”Whatdoeshemean?“Don’tyourecognizeyourselfatall?Yourpast?”Hisquestionknocksmeoffbalance.Fuck,we’vebeenoverandoverthis.“No,Idon’t.It’sdifferent.TherelationshipIhadwithMrs.Lincolnwascompletelydifferent.”“Iwasn’treferringtoMrs.Lincoln.”“Whatwereyoureferringto?”Myvoiceispin-dropquiet,becausesuddenlyIseewherehe’sgoing
withthis.“Youknow.”Igulpforair,swampedbytheimpotenceandrageofadefenselesschild.Yes.Therage.Thedeep
infuriatingrage…andfear.Thedarknessswirlsangrilyinsideme.“It’snotthesame,”Ihissthroughgrittedteeth,asIstraintoholdmytemper.“No,it’snot,”Flynnconcedes.Buttheimageofherragecomesunwelcometomymind.“Thisiswhatyoureallylike?Me,likethis?”Itdampensmyanger.“Iknowwhatyou’retryingtodohere,Doctor,butit’sanunfaircomparison.Sheaskedmetoshow
her.She’saconsentingadult,forfuck’ssake.Shecouldhavesafe-worded.Shecouldhavetoldmetostop.Shedidn’t.”
“Iknow.Iknow.”Heholdshishandup.“I’mjustcallouslyillustratingapoint,Christian.You’reanangryman,andyouhaveevery reason tobe. I’mnotgoing to rehashall that rightnow—you’reobviously suffering, and thewholepoint of these sessions is tomove you to aplacewhere you aremoreacceptingandcomfortablewithyourself.”Hepauses.“Thisgirl…”
“Anastasia,”Imutterpetulantly.“Anastasia. She’s obviously had a profound effect on you. Her leaving has triggered your
abandonment issues and your PTSD. She clearlymeansmuchmore to you than you’rewilling toadmittoyourself.”
Itakeasharpbreath.Isthatwhythisissopainful?Becauseshemeansmore,somuchmore?“Youneedtofocusonwhereyouwanttobe,”Flynncontinues.“Anditsoundstomelikeyouwant
tobewiththisgirl.Youmissher.Doyouwanttobewithher?”BewithAna?“Yes,”Iwhisper.“Thenyouhavetofocusonthatgoal.ThisgoesbacktowhatI’vebeenbangingonaboutforour
last fewsessions—theSFBT.Ifshe’s inlovewithyou,asshetoldyousheis,shemustbesuffering,too.SoIrepeatmyquestion:haveyouconsideredamoreconventionalrelationshipwiththisgirl?”
“No,Ihaven’t.”“Whynot?”“Becauseit’sneveroccurredtomethatIcould.”“Wellifshe’snotpreparedtobeyoursubmissive,youcan’tplaytheroleofdominant.”I glare at him. It’s not a role—it’s who I am. And from nowhere, I recall an earlier e-mail to
Anastasia.Mywords:WhatIthinkyoufailtorealizeisthatinDom/subrelationshipsitisthesubwhohasallthepower.That’syou.I’llrepeatthis—youaretheonewithallthepower.NotI.Ifshedoesn’twanttodothis…thenneithercanI.
Hopestirsinmychest.CouldI?CouldIhaveavanillarelationshipwithAnastasia?Myscalpprickles.Fuck.Possibly.IfIcould,wouldshewantmeback?“Christian,youhavedemonstratedthatyouareanextraordinarilycapableperson,inspiteofyour
problems.You’rearareindividual.Onceyoufocusonagoal,youdriveaheadandachieveit—usuallysurpassingall yourownexpectations.Listening to you today, it’s clear youwere focusedon gettingAnastasia towhere youwantedher to be, but youdidn’t take into accounther inexperience orherfeelings.Itseemstomethatyou’vebeensofocusedonreachingyourgoalthatyoumissedthejourneythatyouweretakingtogether.”
The last month flashes before me: her tripping into my office, her acute embarrassment atClayton’s,herwitty,snarkye-mails,hersmartmouth…hergiggle…herquietfortitudeanddefiance,her courage—and it occurs to me that I have enjoyed every single minute. Every infuriating,distracting, humorous, sensual, carnal second of her—yes, I have.We’ve been on an extraordinaryjourney,bothofus—well,Icertainlyhave.
Mythoughtstakeadarkerturn.She doesn’t know the depths ofmy depravity, the darkness inmy soul, themonster beneath—
maybeIshouldleaveheralone.I’mnotworthyofher.Shecan’tloveme.ButevenasIthinkthewords,IknowthatIdon’thavethestrengthtostayawayfromher…ifshe’ll
haveme.Flynnsummonsmyattention.“Christian,thinkaboutit.Ourtimeisupnow.Iwanttoseeyouin
afewdaysandtalkthroughsomeoftheotherissuesyoumentioned.I’llhaveJanetcallAndreaandarrangeanappointment.”Hestands,andIknowit’stimetoleave.
“You’vegivenmealottothinkabout,”Itellhim.“Iwouldn’tbedoingmyjobifIdidn’t.Justafewdays,Christian.Wehavesomuchmoretotalk
about.”Heshakesmyhandandgivesmeareassuringsmile,andIleavewithasmallblossomofhope.
STANDINGONTHEBALCONY, I surveySeattleatnight.Uphere I’matone remove,away from it all.Whatdidshecallit?
Myivorytower.Normally I find itpeaceful—but latelymypeaceofmindhasbeen shatteredbyacertainblue-
eyedyoungwoman.“Have you thought about trying a relationship herway?” Flynn’s words tauntme, suggesting so
manypossibilities.CouldIwinherback?Thethoughtterrifiesme.Itakeasipofmycognac.Whywouldshewantmeback?CouldIeverbewhatshewantsmetobe?
Iwon’tletgoofmyhope.Ineedtofindaway.Ineedher.Something startles me—a movement, a shadow at the periphery of my vision. I frown.What
the…?Iturntowardtheshadow,butfindnothing.I’mseeingthingsnow.Islugthecognacandheadbackintothelivingroom.
WEDNESDAY,JUNE8,2011
Mommy!Mommy!Mommyisasleeponthefloor.Shehasbeenasleepforalongtime.Ishakeher.Shedoesn’twakeup.Icallher.Shedoesn’twakeup.Heisn’thereandstillMommydoesn’twakeup.Iamthirsty.InthekitchenIpullachairtothesinkandIhaveadrink.Thewatersplashesovermysweater.Mysweaterisdirty.Mommyisstillasleep.Mommy,wakeup!Sheliesstill.Sheiscold.IfetchmyblankieandIcoverMommyandIliedownonthestickygreenrugbesideher.Mytummyhurts.Itishungry,butMommyisstillasleep.Ihavetwotoycars.Onered.Oneyellow.Mygreencarisgone.TheyracebythefloorwhereMommyissleeping.IthinkMommyissick.Isearchforsomethingtoeat.IntheiceboxIfindpeas.Theyarecold.Ieatthemslowly.Theymakemytummyhurt.IsleepbesideMommy.Thepeasaregone.Intheiceboxissomething.Itsmellsfunny.Ilickitandmytonguesticks.Ieatitslowly.Ittastesnasty.Idrinksomewater.IplaywithmycarsandIsleepbesideMommy.Mommyissocoldandshewon’twakeup.Thedoorcrashesopen.IcoverMommywithmyblankie.Fuck.Whatthefuckhappenedhere?Oh,thecrazyfucked-upbitch.Shit.Fuck.Getoutofmyway,youlittleshit.HekicksmeandIhitmyheadonthefloor.Myheadhurts.Hecallssomebodyandhegoes.Helocksthedoor.IlaydownbesideMommy.Myheadhurts.Theladypolicemanishere.No.No.No.Don’ttouchme.Don’ttouchme.Don’ttouchme.IstaybyMommy.No.Stayawayfromme.Theladypolicemanhasmyblankieandshegrabsme.Iscream.Mommy.Mommy.Thewordsaregone.Ican’tsaythewords.Mommycan’thearme.Ihavenowords.
Iwakebreathinghard,takinghugegulpsofair,checkingmysurroundings.Oh,thankGod—I’minmybed.Slowlythefearrecedes.I’mtwenty-seven,notfour.Thisshithastostop.
Iusedtohavemynightmaresundercontrol.Maybeoneeverycoupleofweeks,butnothinglikethis—nightafternight.
Sincesheleft.Iturnoverandlieflatonmyback,staringattheceiling.Whenshesleptbesideme,Isleptwell.I
needherinmylife,inmybed.Shewasthedaytomynight.I’mgoingtogetherback.How?“Haveyouthoughtabouttryingarelationshipherway?”Shewantsheartsandflowers.CanIgiveherthat?Ifrown,tryingtorecalltheromanticmoments
inmylife…Andthere’snothing…exceptwithAna.The“more.”Thegliding,andIHOP,andtakingherupinCharlieTango.
MaybeIcandothis.Idriftbacktosleep,themantrainmyhead:She’smine.She’smine…andIsmellher,feelhersoftskin,tasteherlips,andhearhermoans.Exhausted,Ifallintoanerotic,Ana-filleddream.
Iwakesuddenly.Myscalptingles,andforamomentIthinkwhatever’sdisturbedmeisexternalratherthaninternal.Isitupandrubmyheadandslowlyscantheroom.
Inspiteofthecarnaldream,mybodyhasbehaved.Elenawouldbepleased.Shetextedyesterday,butElena’sthelastpersonIwanttotalkto—there’sonlyonethingIwanttodorightnow.Igetupandpullonmyrunninggear.
I’mgoingtocheckonAna.
HER STREET IS QUIET except for the rumble of a delivery truck and the out-of-tune whistling of asolitarydogwalker.Herapartmentisindarkness,thecurtainstoherroomclosed.Ikeepasilentvigilfrommystalker’shide,staringupatthewindowsandthinking.Ineedaplan—aplantowinherback.
Asdawn’slightbrightensherwindow,IturnmyiPoduploud,andwithMobyblaringinmyearsIrunbacktoEscala.
“I’LLHAVEACROISSANT,Mrs.Jones.”ShestillsinsurpriseandIraiseabrow.“Apricotpreserves?”sheasks,recovering.“Please.”“I’llheatupacoupleforyou,Mr.Grey.Here’syourcoffee.”“Thankyou,Gail.”Shesmiles.IsitjustbecauseI’mhavingcroissants?Ifitmakesherthathappy,Ishouldhavethem
moreoften.
INTHEBACKOF theAudi, I plot. Ineed to getupclose andpersonalwithAnaSteele, tobeginmycampaigntowinherback.IcallAndrea,knowingthatat7:15shewon’tbeatherdeskyet,andIleaveavoicemail.“Andrea,assoonasyou’rein,Iwanttorunthroughmyscheduleforthenextfewdays.”There—step one in my offensive is to make time in my schedule for Ana. What the hell am Isupposedtobedoingthisweek?Currently,Idon’thaveaclue.NormallyI’monthisshit,butlatelyI’vebeenallovertheplace.NowIhaveamissiontofocuson.Youcandothis,Grey.
But deep down I wish I had the courage ofmy convictions. Anxiety unfurls inmy gut.Can IconvinceAnatotakemeback?Willshelisten?Ihopeso.Thishastowork.Imissher.
“MR. GREY, I CANCELED all your social events this week, apart from the one for tomorrow—I don’tknowwhattheoccasionis.YourcalendarsaysPortland,that’sit.”
Yes!Thefuckingphotographer!I beam at Andrea, and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Thanks, Andrea.That’s all for now.
SendinSam.”
“Sure,Mr.Grey.Wouldyoulikesomemorecoffee?”“Please.”“Withmilk?”“Yes.Latte.Thankyou.”Shesmilespolitelyandleaves.Thisisit!Myin!Thephotographer!Now…whattodo?
MYMORNINGHASBEENback-to-backmeetings,andmystaffhavebeenwatchingmenervously,waitingformetoexplode.Okay,that’sbeenmymodusoperandiforthelastfewdays—buttodayIfeelclearer,calmer,andpresent;abletodealwitheverything.
It’snowlunchtime;myworkoutwithClaudehasgonewell.Theonlyflyintheointmentisthatthere’snomorenewsaboutLeila.Allweknowisthatshe’ssplitupwithherhusbandandshecouldbeanywhere.Ifshesurfaces,Welchwillfindher.
I’mfamished.Oliviasetsaplatedownonmydesk.“Yoursandwich,Mr.Grey.”“Chickenandmayonnaise?”“Um…”Istareather.Shejustdoesn’tgetit.Oliviaoffersanineptapology.“Isaidchickenwithmayonnaise,Olivia.It’snotthathard.”“I’msorry,Mr.Grey.”“It’sfine.Justgo.”Shelooksrelievedbutscramblestoleavetheroom.IbuzzAndrea.“Sir?”“Comeinhere.”Andreaappearsatthedoorway,lookingcalmandefficient.“Getridofthatgirl.”Andreapullsherselfupstraight.“Sir,OliviaisSenatorBlandino’sdaughter.”“Idon’tcareifshe’stheQueenoffuckingEngland.Getheroutofmyoffice.”“Yes,sir.”Andreaflushes.“Getsomeoneelsetohelpyou,”Iofferinagentlertone.Idon’twanttoalienateAndrea.“Yes,Mr.Grey.”“Thankyou.That’sall.”ShesmilesandIknowshe’sbackonboard.She’sagoodPA;Idon’twanthertoquitbecauseI’m
beinganasshole.Sheexits,leavingmetomychickensandwich—nomayo—andmycampaignplan.Portland.Iknowthe formofe-mailaddress foremployeesatSIP. I thinkAnastasiawill respondbetter in
writing;shealwayshas.Howtobegin?
DearAna
No.
DearAnastasia
No.
DearMissSteele
Shit!
HALFANHOURLATERI’mstillstaringatablankcomputerscreen.WhatthehelldoIsay?Comeback…please?Forgiveme.Imissyou.Let’stryityourway.Iputmyheadinmyhands.Whyisthissodifficult?Keepitsimple,Grey.Justcutthecrap.Itakeadeepbreathandtapoutane-mail.Yes…thiswilldo.Andreabuzzesme.“Ms.Baileyisheretoseeyou,sir.”“Tellhertowait.”Ihangupandtakeamoment,andwithmyheartpounding,Ipresssend.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Tomorrow
Date:June8201114:05To:AnastasiaSteele
DearAnastasia
Forgivethisintrusionatwork.Ihopethatit’sgoingwell.Didyougetmyflowers?
Inotethattomorrowisthegalleryopeningforyourfriend’sshow,andI’msureyou’venothadtimetopurchase
acar,andit’salongdrive.Iwouldbemorethanhappytotakeyou—shouldyouwish.
Letmeknow.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Iwatchmyinbox.Andwatch.
Andwatch…myanxietygrowingwitheverysecondthatcrawlsby.Gettingup,Ipacetheoffice—butthattakesmeawayfrommycomputer.Backatmydesk,Icheck
mye-mailyetagain.Nothing.Todistractmyself,Itracemyfingeralongthewingsofmyglider.Forfuck’ssake,Grey,getagrip.Comeon,Anastasia,answerme.She’salwaysbeensoprompt.Icheckmywatch…14:09.Fourminutes!Stillnothing.Gettingup,Ipacearoundmyofficeoncemore,peeringatmywatcheverythreeseconds,orsoit
feels.By2:20I’mindespair.She’snotgoingtoreply.Shereallydoeshateme…whocouldblameher?ThenIhearthepingofane-mail.Myheartleapsintomythroat.Hell!It’sfromRos,tellingmeshe’sgonebacktoheroffice.Andthenit’sthere,inmyinbox,themagicalline:From:AnastasiaSteele.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Tomorrow
Date:June8201114:25To:ChristianGrey
HiChristian
Thankyoufortheflowers;theyarelovely.
Yes,Iwouldappreciatealift.
Thankyou.
AnastasiaSteeleAssistanttoJackHyde,Editor,SIP
Relieffloodsthroughme;Iclosemyeyes,savoringthefeeling.YES!Iporeoverhere-maillookingforclues,butasusualIhavenoideawhatthethoughtsarebehind
herwords.Thetoneisfriendlyenough,butthat’sit.Justfriendly.CarpeDiem,Grey.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Tomorrow
Date:June8201114:27To:AnastasiaSteele
DearAnastasia
WhattimeshallIpickyouup?
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
Idon’thavetowaitquitesolong.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Tomorrow
Date:June8201114:32To:ChristianGrey
José’sshowstartsat7:30.Whattimewouldyousuggest?
AnastasiaSteeleAssistanttoJackHyde,Editor,SIP
WecantakeCharlieTango.
From:ChristianGreySubject:Tomorrow
Date:June8201114:34To:AnastasiaSteele
DearAnastasia
Portlandissomedistanceaway.Ishallpickyouupat5:45.
Ilookforwardtoseeingyou.
ChristianGreyCEO,GreyEnterprisesHoldings,Inc.
From:AnastasiaSteeleSubject:Tomorrow
Date:June8201114:38To:ChristianGrey
Seeyouthen.
AnastasiaSteele
AssistanttoJackHyde,Editor,SIP
My campaign towin her back is underway. I feel elated; the small blossom of hope is now aJapanesefloweringcherry.
IbuzzAndrea.“MissBaileywentbacktoheroffice,Mr.Grey.”“Iknow,shee-mailedme.IneedTaylorhereinanhour.”“Yes,sir.”Ihangup.AnastasiaisworkingforaguynamedJackHyde.Iwanttoknowmoreabouthim.Icall
Ros.“Christian.”Shesoundspissed.Tough.“DowehaveaccesstotheemployeefilesfromSIP?”“Notyet.ButIcangetthem.”“Please.Todayifyoucan.IwanteverythingtheyhaveonJackHyde,andanyonewho’sworkedfor
him.”“CanIaskwhy?”“No.”She’ssilentforamoment.“Christian,Idon’tknowwhat’sgotintoyourecently.”“Ros,justdoit,okay?”Shesighs.“Okay.NowcanwehaveourmeetingabouttheTaiwanshipyardproposal?”“Yes.Ihadanimportantcalltomake.IttooklongerthanIthought.”“I’llberightup.”
WHENROSLEAVESIfollowheroutoftheoffice.“WSUnextFriday,”ItellAndrea,whoscribblesareminderinhernotebook.“AndIgettoflyinthecompanychopper?”Rosbubbleswithenthusiasm.“Helicopter,”Icorrecther.“Whatever,Christian.”Sherollshereyesassheenterstheelevator,anditmakesmesmile.AndreawatchesRosleave,thengivesmeanexpectantlook.“CallStephan—I’llbeflyingCharlieTangotoPortlandtomorrowevening,andI’llneedhimtofly
herbacktoBoeingField,”ItellAndrea.“Yes,Mr.Grey.”IseenosignofOlivia.“Hasshegone?”“Olivia?”Andreaasks.Inod.“Yes.”Sheseemsrelieved.“Whereto?”
“Finance.”“Goodthinking.It’llkeepSenatorBlandinooffmyback.”Andrealookspleasedatthecompliment.“You’regettingsomeoneelsetohelpouthere?”Iask.“Yes,sir.I’mseeingthreecandidatestomorrowmorning.”“Good.IsTaylorhere?”“Yes,sir.”“Canceltherestofmymeetingstoday.I’mgoingout.”“Out?”shesqueaksinsurprise.“Yes.”Igrin.“Out.”
“WHERETO,SIR?”TAYLORasks,asIstretchoutinthebackoftheSUV.“TheMacstore.”“OnNortheastForty-Fifth?”“Yes.”I’mgoingtobuyAnaaniPad.Leaningbackinmyseat, Iclosemyeyesandcontemplate
whichappsandsongsI’mgoingtodownloadandinstallforher.Icouldchoose“Toxic.”Ismirkatthethought.No,Idon’tthinkthatwouldbepopularwithher.She’dbemadashell—andforthefirsttimein a while the thought of her mad makes me smile. Mad like she was in Georgia, not like lastSaturday.Ishiftinmyseat;Idon’twanttoberemindedofthat.Iturnmythoughtsbacktopotentialsongchoices,feelingmorebuoyantthanIhaveindays.Myphonebuzzes,andmyheartratespikes.
DareIhope?
Hey.Asshole.Beer?
Hell.Atextfrommybrother.
No.Busy.
You’realwaysbusy.
GoingtoBarbadostomorrow.
To,youknow,RELAX.
SeeyouwhenIgetback.
Andwewillhavethatbeer!!!
Laters,Lelliot.SafeTravels.
IT’SBEENADIVERTINGevening,filledwithmusic—anostalgicjourneythroughmyiTunes,makingaplaylistforAnastasia.Irememberherdancinginmykitchen;IwishIknewwhatshe’dbeenlisteningto.Shelookedtotallyridiculous,andutterlyadorable.ThatwasafterIfuckedherforthefirsttime.
No.AfterImadelovetoherthefirsttime?Neithertermfeelsright.IrecallherimpassionedpleathenightIintroducedhertomyparents.“Iwantyoutomakeloveto
me.”HowshockedIwasbyhersimplestatement—andyetallshewantedwastotouchme.Ishudder
atthethought.Ihavetomakeherunderstandthatthisisahardlimitforme—Icannottoleratebeingtouched.
I shakemyhead.You’re gettingwayaheadof yourself,Grey—youhave to close thisdeal first. IchecktheinscriptionontheiPad.
Anastasia—thisisforyou.Iknowwhatyouwanttohear.
Thismusiconheresaysitforme.Christian
Perhapsthiswilldoit.Shewantsheartsandflowers;perhapsthiswillcomeclose.ButIshakemyhead,becauseIhavenoidea.There’ssomuchIwanttosaytoher,ifshe’lllisten.Andifshewon’t,thesongswillsayitforme.Ijusthopesheallowsmetheopportunitytogivethemtoher.
Butifshedoesn’tlikemyproposition,ifshedoesn’tlikethethoughtofbeingwithme—whatwillIdo? Imight just be a convenient ride toPortland.The thoughtdepressesme, as Ihead towardmybedroomforsomemuch-neededsleep.
DoIdaretohope?Damnit.Yes,Ido.
THURSDAY,JUNE9,2011
Thedoctorholdsupherhands.I’mnotgoingtohurtyou.Ineedtocheckyourtummy.Here.Shegivesmeacold,roundsuckythingandsheletsmeplaywithit.Youputitonyourtummy,andIwon’ttouchyouandIcanhearyourtummy.Thedoctorisgood…thedoctorisMommy.Mynewmommyispretty.She’slikeanangel.Adoctorangel.Shestrokesmyhair.Ilikeitwhenshestrokesmyhair.Sheletsmeeaticecreamandcake.Shedoesn’tshoutwhenshefindsthebreadandappleshiddeninmyshoes.Orundermybed.Orundermypillow.Darling,thefoodisinthekitchen.JustfindmeorDaddywhenyou’rehungry.Pointwithyourfinger.Canyoudothat?Thereisanotherboy.Lelliot.Heismean.SoIpunchhim.Butmynewmommydoesn’tlikethefighting.Thereisapiano.Ilikethenoise.Istandatthepianoandpressthewhiteandtheblack.Thenoisefromtheblackisstrange.MissKathiesitsatthepianowithme.Sheteachestheblackandthewhitenotes.ShehaslongbrownhairandshelookslikesomeoneIknow.Shesmellsofflowersandapplepiebaking.Shesmellsofgood.Shemakesthepianosoundpretty.Sheiskindtome.ShesmilesandIplay.ShesmilesandIamhappy.Shesmilesandshe’sAna.BeautifulAna,sittingwithmeasIplayafugue,aprelude,anadagio,asonata.Shesighs,restingherheadonmyshoulder,andshesmiles.Ilovelisteningtoyouplay,Christian.Iloveyou,Christian.Ana.Staywithme.You’remine.Iloveyou,too.
Iwake,withastart.Today,Iwinherback.
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