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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