Disclaimer: The Fifty Shades of Grey characters involved in this story belong to the author EL James.

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The Garden of Eden

Chapter One

Elena's POV

Exhausted, I crawl out of bed and slip on my black silk kimono robe.

Christian's birthday party ran late. Of course, he didn't show up until it was almost over. I smile, pleased at myself, knowing I taught him that.

I didn't get much sleep with Linc snoring beside me. His short salt and pepper head is resting hard on his pillow, a puddle of drool at his mouth.

I don't remember hearing him come in last night. Its not like I was expecting him. Dottie or Rebecca, whatever his latest whore's name is, must have been too busy to entertain him all night.

What she sees in him is a mystery to me. He is not half the man he used to be when I first met him.

His disgusting eating habits and heavy drinking have not aged him well. I'm certain its the money she's after. The poor thing is shit out of luck because no one is getting any of that but me. I've done my time in earning it.

I frown in disgusts at him when he rolls over and farts in his sleep. His pot belly flaps to the opposite side of the bed as he scratches his ass in my face. Its only a matter of time before he drops dead of something. The thought of that makes me laugh as I leave him to take a shower.

The bathroom tile is cold under my feet. Linc refuses to turn on the heat at night, saying it costs too much to heat the house. The man owns the most successful lumbar company on the west coast and he'd rather we catch Pneumonia than spend a few extra dollars on heat.

He does it out of spite. To punish me for the affair he found out about eight years ago.

Its been almost a decade and he is still punishing me for the indiscretion. Its not like there haven't been others. Its not like he is exactly faithful to me. Never has he been faithful. On our honeymoon, I caught him down at the bar with his tongue down the waitresses throat and that was a week after I found out he'd been fucking our wedding planner. Lord only knows why I still married him.

He was quite simply the best of a lot of lousy options.

I stand at the sink to inspect my face. The outline of Grace's hand is still red and hot on my skin. I place a cool washcloth to soothe it.

Linc was livid when he saw it. I suppose in his mind, he is the only one that can lay claim in beating me.

He beats me for daring to disapprove of his many affairs.

The first time was when he got me back up to our honeymoon suite. It was my fault that waitress threw a drink in his face for having the audacity to be married and on his honeymoon. For weeks, I sported a bruised eye I had to hide under makeup.

That set the tone for our marriage and it was the beginning of the most disgustingly volatile thirty years of my life.

That is, until we moved to Bellevue and next door to the Greys.

That is, until I met him. The boy that would change my life. The boy that would save me from myself.

I first met him when he was thirteen.

Christian Grey. No doubt, he was handsome, even then. His copper hair was as thick and unruly as he was. His gray eyes would look right through you if they weren't burning angry holes in you if you dared say a word to him. He was tall and lanky for his age, but not in any way awkward.

Even at thirteen, he had total command over his body.

He was standoffish. Nothing like his obnoxiously chatty siblings, Mia and Elliot.

Through those first few years, Grace and I became close. I confided in her of the pain I was in for having lost custody of my daughter, who was about the same age as Mia. I knew I wouldn't have been a good mother. She is better off with her father, but back then, it was a devastating blow to my ego.

Grace had confided in me about the difficulties she and her husband Carrick were having with Christian. His birthmother, Ella was a drug addict who sold herself for money. Christian was badly neglected in her care and was all but starved when he was discovered at four years old sitting next to her dead body, eating on nothing but frozen peas and moldy bread. She spoke of his fear of touch. Not being able to comfort him when he was a child broke her heart.

I was nothing if not sympathetic to her pain. She often said having someone to talk to about her troubles eased them for her. I was happy to help out my dear friend and lend her an ear.

By the time Christian was fifteen, she and Carrick were at the end of their rope with him. He had been suspended from four schools for fighting and he was on his third Psychologist in the same amount of years.

The day I suggested he come over and help clear my garden was the day I witnessed his behavior first hand.

"Grace, can I borrow the car," he came storming in the kitchen where she and I sat having coffee.

I had been away for a few months helping Linc start a new business in California. I couldn't help but notice how much Christian had grown in such a short time.

"Christian, where are your manners? Will you please say hello to Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Hey," he said to me, not even glancing in my direction. "Now can I borrow the car?"

"Absolutely not, young man. You aren't even old enough to drive. Never mind the fact that you are grounded while we look for you another school this summer. Right now, your father is waiting to speak to you in his study. Say goodbye to Mrs. Lincoln."

"Whatever," he said, walking away.

To say Grace was embarrassed by his behavior would be a gross misrepresentation of her feelings.

"I had no idea it had gotten so bad," I told her, watching him go right out the front door instead of to speak to his father, like he was told.

"I just don't know what else to do, Elena. I know he is testing us. He's lashing out because he's hurting. He has so much unresolved anger where his childhood is concerned. At the same time, I don't know how to make him see that his behavior is completely unacceptable. Carrick is at his limit. I was in fear last night. I thought he might strike Christian when he came in three hours past his curfew. He was so disrespectful in the things he said. He wasn't even allowed out."

"Grace, you have got to get a handle on him," I told her.

"I know. I know, you're right but it isn't that easy. He is already so distant. I don't want to push him away in farther."

"Not that I know anything about raising kids, but I think he needs responsibility and he needs discipline."

"How am I to manage that when he won't listen to any form of reason."

"Maybe if it came from someone else. Now listen, Linc is still in San Francisco for a few more days. I still have the Magnolia tree turned over in my garden from last week's storm. I was waiting for him to clear it. I want to start planting again. Maybe Christian can help. Perhaps work off some of that pent-up aggression he has. Maybe he'll enjoy planting pretty things."

"I don't want to burden you with this, Elena."

"I don't mind. I can use the help. He can start first thing in the morning."

That was my first mistake, thinking that I could help my friend with her son.

He was breaking her heart and I hated seeing her so upset. She had been nothing but kind to me. Not everyone in town made that kind of effort where I was concerned. None of our neighbors where friendly. The wives avoided me in particular, still do. Linc jokes its because I look like a harlot with my blonde hair and Marilyn Monroe figure.

If it wasn't for Grace, I wouldn't have any friends at all. Not that I've ever needed them. I was always a loner. Growing up in a trailer park in Lexington, Kentucky, the odds were already stacked against me.

My father was the town drunk and my mother worked day and night as a waitress at the Corner Café on the other end of town. Dad would come home stinking of liquor, crawling into my bed at night. I got the hell out of there as soon as I could.

To this day, I can't stand the smell of whiskey.

Christian was doing well at first. He was making quick work of clearing the garden and cutting down all the branches. I had agreed to pay him ten dollars a branch, so it was a good incentive for him.

The day was stifling hot. I'd spent most of the morning lounging out at the pool in my bikini. I was never one for reading and I was bored with television. Linc wasn't answering my calls, so I had no one to talk to.

That was my second mistake, being lonely and not recognizing the danger it brought- not recognizing the danger Christian brought.

I was sipping lemonade with my sunglasses on. My staring was going unnoticed, or so I thought. But more than once, I caught him starring right back at me with a smug smirk on his face. I didn't even realize I was checking him out until he took of his T-shirt and I found I couldn't look away.

Gone was the lanky thirteen-year-old he was just two years prior. He was halfway through puberty and it certainly agreed with him.

Every muscle was defined. He was Adonis personified. A very hot and sexy Adonis that had me licking my lips at the beads of sweat running down his torso.

I found myself running the tip of my index finger around the rim of my glass, imagining I was touching the most intimate parts of him. I brought the glass up to my lips to taste him. The sweetened light yellow liquid cooled my throat, but did little to ease the heat radiating from my core. His imaginary moans of pleasure had me squirming too much in my seat. I was a sopping wet mess and it had nothing to do with the sweltering sun.

Slipping on my coverup to hide my embarrassment, I quickly went inside to refill my glass.

I watched him, unabashed from the large picture frame of my kitchen window. I knew what I was thinking was wrong. He was my best friend's teenage son.

More than that, he was a fifteen-year-old boy. But to his credit, he didn't look like a boy. He was young, yes. But he was no boy. Nothing about him gave any indication that he was anything other than a well-developed young man. But still, he was young. Much too young for me. Forget about the fact that I was still newly married. I hadn't even thought to cheat on Linc back then.

Linc and I were many things to one another but lovers were not one of them. At least not on a regular basis by that point. He would fuck me for his pleasure when he was horny. Otherwise, he barely ever looked at me.

His interest in me ended the day he made me his wife. I was only kept for show. He paraded me in front of his business associates. He loved pretending to be the big family man. After that was done, he left me alone to be ignored.

All the hard work I'd gone through to keep my body right for him. He never noticed. Nothing I ever did turned him on. He was getting what I had to offer elsewhere. It hurt, but I wasn't about to give him up. I had put in too much work. I had sacrificed too much of myself in being his wife and it had taken a toll on my self-esteem.

What I wouldn't have given for someone like Christian to give me some attention. He was young and vibrant- everything that Linc wasn't.

Unable to stop them, my thoughts about him became filthy.

Just his name on the tip of my tongue made me want to touch myself. My hand creeped up my short coverup. I fantasied they were his hands-strong and rough, sliding between my wet legs.

I never took my eyes off him as he purposefully moved about my garden, picking up the large branches with ease, throwing them into a messy pile.

My fingers worked at my clit, picturing his mouth there instead, bringing me closer to my orgasm. I pictured his taut muscles underneath my hands. His skin marked by the red scratches of my fingernails running down his back. His name escapes my tongue in a whisper as I cum.

I lean against the wall, sated by my own hand and disgusted with myself.

This was beyond wrong, he was my best friend's son.

He was a child, only two years into puberty.

There is no way to justify my attraction to him. It both shocked and scared me, but more than that, it excited me. It was a feeling I had forgotten. It felt good. It felt forbidden. I clung to those feelings. It had been so long since I felt so alive.

And as wrong as I knew it was, I was about to make my final and biggest mistake.

My only defense is, at the time, I couldn't imagine that my actions would devastate so many lives and if I did, I was too far gone to care.

Author's Note:

This story will be in two parts.

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