Prologue

"Right," she slides yet another sheet of notes to the side, her fountain pen poised above the blank page. "Sexual history. As detailed as possible please."

I squirm in my seat. Do I lie? Do I run? This isn't for me. I don't have a sexual history at all, let alone a detailed one! This was a terrible idea… Wait, why does she need to know that? I'm-

"Ana?" A look of concern washes over her immaculate face. She's beautiful. The crinkles give away her age, but her soft skin and pillowy lips are captivating. Her eyebrows are thin and arched and perfectly plucked. She's almost intimidating.

Ms. Lincoln puts down the pen. "Ana, it's perfectly normal to have second thoughts. This isn't something that every girl can walk straight into-"

"No," I interrupt her, my voice softening in apology at the end of the word. "It's just…" I'm red as the leather cover on this chair, I can tell. "I'm a virgin." I whisper.

Her lips form a soft 'O' and I can feel tears of shame pricking in the back of my eyes. I'm so mortified. If only Kate had done more research. It's so unlike her, she really must be sick, so terribly unlike her not to search for every single background detail and now… I'm paying for her mistake.

"Please Ana, pleeease" Kate is staring at me, hands clasped and eyes wide and red-rimmed from the flu. "It'll be exciting!"

"Exciting?! Kate, I'm not a reporter. I'm definitely not an undercover reporter. I'm not sneaking into some seedy old strip club and pretending to be a waitress". I'm fighting with the zipper on my old brown boots. There's a hole in the side of one, but they'll have to do.

"Ana! It's not a strip club. It's a gentlemen's club." She emphasizes the word clearly, despite having a croaky throat. She sounds husky and sexy with this cough, maybe she should go instead… "And it's run by the enigmatic Mr. Grey. No one knows what goes on in there and now they're looking for 'servers' - whatever that means, and-"

I fiddle with the car keys of my beloved old Beetle. Kate should go instead. This fancy pants Mr. Grey is looking for waitresses at his club; there's no way he'd want to interview me! Kate would be a shoo-in, all strawberry blonde tendrils and push up bra. I love her, I really do, and I'd do most things for her. Not this though…

"Look, Ana, all I'm asking is that you go for the interview and get the deets. I've already called and they're expecting me, but you're such a total babe they'll probably prefer you anyway. Please Ana, just this once. It'll make a great story."

I already know I'll give in to her. She's my best friend and my roommate. Resigned, I nod, and Kate squeals and jumps up to hug me, scattering used tissues and papers everywhere. "Kate!" I hold her at arm's length.

"You can't wear those shoes." She looks aghast at my old boots. "Here," And she's disappeared off into her closet. The pair of pumps she returns with are terrifying - five inches high, stiletto heel, black patent leather. I'm about to protest when she's already unzipping my boots.

"There! Much better. Au revoir, Ana! Love youu!" Kate practically shoves me out the door, and I'm surprised I don't fall flat on my face. I can barely walk! I hobble out to the sidewalk and see the taxi waiting. Did Kate call this?

As if reading my mind, the window slides down and a man with a hard face and dark glasses turns to me. "Miss Kavanagh?"

"Um, Miss Steele, actually, Miss Kavanagh is unwell." There's a brief pause, and then the pop of the doors unlocking. "I see, well, you better get in."

"Ana," Ms. Lincoln resumes her note taking. "It's a rather unorthodox situation for one of our girls, yes, but perhaps Mr. Grey will like it."

Alarm bells flood my brain. Just what have I got myself into?

From the moment I walk in I know that this isn't any old waitressing job. The club is magnificent, sprawling, and I've only seen the reception room and Ms. Lincoln's office. She assesses me with a cool eye at first and then sits me down in a waiting room. There are several other girls in there. Every single one is a goddess. Some tall, some petite, but all with flawless skin and cascading, glossy hair. They're in dresses and pencil skirts, clinging to their luscious curves. I'm so relieved that Kate made me wear her pumps, even though the blouse I've chosen isn't really appropriate. The little blue flowers are lost in a sea of shimmering satin and silk.

I discreetly pull a handheld mirror out of my bag. I wouldn't normally carry this, but Kate had insisted. There are bags under my bright blue eyes, which look even bigger than normal against my pale skin. I ruffle my hair a little, trying to fluff it out, then decide to braid it quickly instead. I'll have to do.

I have the distinct feeling I'm being watched. Not just by the other girls, but someone else… One by one the girls are called. They all pass through one of two doors. What does that mean, I wonder? I'm left waiting right until the end, when it's just me and my battered copy of Tess.

"Anastasia Steele?" I recognize the woman immediately as the one who had greeted me at reception. She stands out amongst all the furniture, which is dark polished wood and oxblood leather. So decadent! Ms. Lincoln has a halo of bright, silvery blonde hair that makes her shine like an angel. She gives me a small smile. "We're ready for you now."

"I'll have to review your file with Mr. Grey, Ana, but I think you're an excellent candidate for the job. Do you have any questions?"

My mind is reeling. Ms. Lincoln has asked me a variety of questions, some far more personal than I'd like. She's also weighed and measured me, run her fingers through my loose hair and assessed my mousy outfit. She gave an approving nod to the pumps.

I can't tell whether to trust this woman or not. She seems to want to help me, like a mentor… She seems to care. I'm a little threatened by her beauty though. She might be perfect.

"Wh-what," I stutter. Damn! I'm so embarrassed, and she can tell. There's a small smirk across her lips. "What exactly will I have to do for Mr. Grey?"

Ms. Lincoln walks over to the filing cabinet and pulls out a thick, sealed envelope. "You're here to wait on Mr. Grey and his guests. Look after them, show them a good time." She purrs. "The details are all in here Ana. I look forward to hearing your decision."

Wow, this thing is heavy. I turn the envelope over and notice the wax seal. It's the same oxblood red as all the leather furniture. It's Mr. Grey's personal seal.

I somehow make it out the door before slumping down on the street. There's no taxi service home. I'd sipped champagne on the way here! I listened to a beautiful choral soundtrack and stretched my sore toes out in the fluffy black carpets of the car. The envelope is burning a hole in my hands, but I know that I shouldn't open it here. No, I would need a whole bottle of the cheap red wine Kate and I favoured to read this…

As I'm walking home I have a wicked idea. What if I don't tell Kate? What if I just say that I didn't get the job? There's no evidence anyway - Ms. Lincoln had strictly forbidden the use of any recording devices. If I tell Kate, she'll never let me take this job, and I have the feeling that I wouldn't be able to turn it down once I read the 'details'. A small voice in my head chastises me, Anastasia Steele, when did you get so greedy?

The truth is, I just need the money. One look at Mr. Grey's club and I knew he would pay his staff a fortune. I've never been that interested in having a lot of money, but I graduated three months ago now, and while Kate would never admit it, she really needs some rent off me soon. Her job as junior reporter at the local paper doesn't pay enough to sustain her lifestyle. A lifestyle that soon will be yours, Anastasia. I ignore the niggling voice and carry on home.

I'd fought her off, with my actual hands, because I wanted to protect my bag where the papers had been stuffed, and faking some story about how I'd bombed the interview, rushed into my room and locked the door.

My hands are shaking as I prize open the envelope. There is a heavy, leather bound booklet of sorts in there. I gasp. There's a silver inscription on the front cover.

Anastasia Steele

Handbook

La Maison Grey

It's already personalized! Another thick, stapled document falls from the envelope and flutters into my lap. It's a contract.

I open the first page.

"So take me through this again, you're a nighttime secretary?" Kate doesn't believe a word of it.

"Yes." I pull my trench coat tighter across my body.

"What do you do? At night?" She furrows her thick, straight eyebrows.

"Admin. Photocopying, filing, a little bit of proof-reading. Anything they need really." I'm wearing Kate's pumps again. She handed them over to me a week ago, claiming they were suddenly too tight for her.

"But why at night?" I swallow. I've never been a good liar. I'm losing her… "Oh, well, who knows. I'm glad you found something Ana." I let out a silent breath. She means it, not because of the money, but because she genuinely wants to see me happy and successful. I hate lying to her. It's unlike her to give up this easily when she smells a rat though…

"Don't wait up!" I smile and give her a quick hug. I try to stride purposefully out the door, but I'm not used to high heels yet. It's proving a challenge.

Outside, my taxi is waiting.