Finally. I sigh wearily as I finish the editing on my latest assignment. I look at the time on my lap top and can't believe its 1:37 am. I am an on line editor for Seattle Independent Publishing. I work from home. My assignments and clients are all dealt with electronically. I am uncomfortable meeting with people face to face, mostly because I can't stand to be touched. I did most of my schooling on line as well. Thank God for computers. I hear Kate's toilet flush again for like the fifth time in the last hour. Concerned, I decide to check on her.

My roommate, Kate Kavenaugh is the complete opposite of me. She is wealthy, put together, attractive and slept with most of Portland. I, on the other hand, am awkward, average looking and barely make it from paycheck to paycheck. I don't date and I am still a virgin. Kate graduates this June. She is a journalism major. Her dad owns and operates Kavenaugh Media, one of the biggest players in the game. I took most of my courses on line and studied 24/7. I kept a 4.0 average and was able to graduate six months ahead of Kate.

We met her second freshman semester. We were both living off campus and having major roommate problems. I was having financial problems and forced to share a 2 bedroom apt with three other girls. Since I studied at home, this left me with picking up after the three lazy sluts, not to mention cooking and all the other shit that comes with three young girls living away from home for the first time. One of the girls living with me had interviewed with Kate to be her roommate, but after hearing Kate's demands, quickly left in disgust.

Kate has a beautiful, luxurious 3 bedroom condo her parents had bought her. Her parents insisted she have at least one roommate, but Kate was having trouble keeping a roommate. They all left, unable to tolerate Kate and her demanding ways, and flat out refusal to clean house or cook. I like cooking and cleaning and I decided to see if I could maybe negotiate a deal.

Needless to say, I did. We just hit it off right away. I bought the food, cooked and cleaned and Kate took care of the utilities, liquor and all the extras. Her parents were thrilled. It was a little awkward trying to explain why I don't like to be touched, but it awoke some protective maternal instinct in Kate and she became a master at controlling conversations and changing the subject.

Kate never asked why I didn't like being touched. She simply never touched me or let anyone else touch me. It was a gift that was priceless. Our friendship deepened and she is probably the only person I have even tried to tell what happened, aside from John Flynn, my shrink. As loyal as she was to me, I am loyal to her. I would do ANYTHING for Kate.

I stop outside her bathroom door and call out to see if she's okay. The only reply is the sound of her vomiting. When it stops I open the door and there is poor Katie, flushed with fever, sitting on the floor waiting for the next round to begin with tears pouring down her face. the tears start falling faster and she starts sobbing.

I try to calm her with my voice but it is useless. Tomorrow was her big interview in Seattle. There is no way she is going to make it and she has no one to go in her place.

"Ana, you could do it!"

"Sorry, Kate. You know I could never do that."

"All you have to do is ask my fifteen questions and use my recorder to get the answers. Then leave, if they even let you have fifteen minutes. Just ask as many questions as you can. It's easy."

"Right. Easy for you maybe, for me not so much. You said he was a billionaire. What if they want to frisk me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. No one is going to frisk you and if they try, explain you have haphephobia and they should call Flynn. Show them your alert bracelet. Security can always wand you."

"I don't know, Kate," I reply doubtfully.

"Please, Ana, please! There is no one else. Please, please!" She begged.

I look at the huge tears sliding down her cheeks and know I have to try.

"Okay," I concede just before Kate leans over the bowl and up chucks again.

Two hours later an exhausted Kate has finally managed to keep down a few sips of tea. I managed a shower and got dressed. Starting with thermal underwear. My car doesn't have heat. Its normally a 3 to 3-1/2 hour trip by car if I was going in a normal car. I am not. I can't drive Kate's car, even though she offered it for the trip. Its a Mercedes Benz her parents got her for her 21st birthday. The few times I have driven it just freaked me out. I am so terrified I will have an accident and damage it, that my good driving habits go out the window. Driving my ancient VW beetle means the trip to Seattle will take at least 4 to 4 1/2 hours. I grab my thermos of hot tea, an apple and my tote bag with Kate's notes, questions and her recorder. I look in the mirror one last time before putting on my coat. I sure hope Mr Bigshot Billionaire doesn't mind casual. I have black jeans on, baggy enough to be comfortable and a heavy white sweater with a turtleneck top. I also have a spare set of clothes in a shopping bag, just in case, God forbid, something happens to Wanda, my car. It will be a miracle if something doesn't happen with Wanda, as lately, all she does is break down.

I know what it's like to feel worn out and be breaking down all the time. I won't give up on Wanda, she just needs some TLC. Hopefully, my friend Jose can give her what she needs when he gets back from LA next week. I head out into the night at 3:45 am.

at 8:10 am, I follow Kate's instructions and enter an underground parking garage where I am directed to a VIP visitors space. I sigh with relief, shocked that I made it here on time. I open my door and kick off my boots and slip on a pair of simple black heels I haven't worn in ages. I take off my coat, grab my black business jacket and my tote bag and I am off. I desperately need to pee, so I will head first to the restroom and then to the visitors desk; at least that was my plan.

I step off the elevator, look around and start heading to a sign that says restrooms when I am immediately intercepted by security.

He points at a sign and politely informs me I need to sign in at the visitors desk and get a security pass. The sign was quite large and boldly declared all visitors from the parking garage must sign in at the visitors desk before proceeding to their destinations. As I wonder how the heck I missed the sign, the security guard again directs me to the visitors desk, taking another step closer to me. I don't know if it was his size that was so intimidating, he must have been 6'4, or if it was his no nonsense, almost grim attitude, but something about him scared the shit out of me. I quickly backed away and almost ran to the visitors desk.

The dumb blond behind the desk seemed incapable of understanding that I was filling in for Kate Kavanaugh. Since the interview was scheduled with Kate Kavanaugh, and I was not Kate Kavanaugh, the blond bitch wouldn't budge and flat out refused to grant me a security pass.

The lack of sleep, the need to pee and just having to deal with a beautiful woman who had shit for brains, suddenly caught up to me. My voice was getting quite loud when that big security guard came over and threatened to escort me out of the building. Then, I really went off. I don't remember exactly what I said, but this time, he was the one who backed away.

The next thing I knew, I was looking up to green eyes and a blond buzz cut. He was big too, but instead of being scared, I felt safe. Somehow I knew this man, who introduced himself as Taylor, Mr Greys head of security, wouldn't hurt me. He suggested we go to his office and led me to the elevator. I wanted desperately to warn him about not touching me, but he hadn't even tried to shake hands and warning people about not touching always makes me feel like the outcast I am, so I held off. If Flynn knew, he would have a fit.

Once seated inside Taylors office, he sat down opposite me and calmly asked what happened downstairs.

I blushed as I remembered my behavior and apologized immediately. The poor girl was just doing her job. I explained what had happened to Kate, how there was no time to call and ask if I could take her place. I explained how important the interview was to Kate and her final grade, and threw myself on his mercy. Then I explained I had been driving since 4 a.m. and really needed to use the restroom.

Taylor explained first he needed to wand me. I stood and went where he directed. The wand went all around me but never touched me. He asked me to leave my purse behind, and showed me a locker where I could put it. The key was on an elastic bracelet and already in the keyhole. I grabbed a hairbrush and stowed my purse, locked the locker and put the key on my wrist and finally headed to the ladies room. After relieving myself, I washed my hands, pull out the hair tie and try to do something with my hair, but its not happening. My hair is just being impossible, so I decide to just leave it down. I brush it firmly, then throw it over my shoulder and hope for the best.

I return to security and retrieve my bag, placing my hairbrush back inside. I find my lip gloss and dab on a little bit. Taylor seems preoccupied with whatever he is reading. My leather purse is oversized. Aside from Kate's questions, notes and recorder, I have all kinds of things in my bag so when Taylor asked me to empty it, I thought I would die. My bag is like a bottomless pit, even I don't know everything that is in there. Slowly, I start removing things.

First, Kate's recorder and the file that contained her notes and questions that I have not yet had time to even get a glimpse of and really need a moment to look at, but not right now. Makeup, hairbrush, wallet, checkbook, nail polish, nail file, lip balm, lip gloss, sunglasses, duct tape, a book of stamps, a thousand little register receipts, my phone, a spare charging cord, a mini USB drive, M&M's, a box of tic tacs, Tylenol, a scissor, a plastic bag of Twinnings English Breakfast tea bags, a flathead screwdriver, tampons, a package of tissues, a comb, hair ties and bobby pins, a safety pin, needle and thread, salt and pepper packets, ketsup and soy sauce packets, a menu from Chinese take-out, and finally a roll of electrical tape, three worn paperback books by Thomas Hardy and lastly, three different cable ties of varying length. At last, its empty. I turn it upside down and shake it to show Taylor there is nothing left and blush in horror at the crumbs, dust and dirt that comes raining down on his desk. I look over at him expecting to see a small smile, but he is not smiling.

Straight to the point, he asks why am I carrying duct tape. I want to roll my eyes but restrain myself and explain about Wanda, how the rear bumper is hanging and I am using duct tape to keep it in place until my friend Jose can do something with it. I also use it on the convertible top that is forever leaking. It seems as fast as I tape up one leak, another one springs up.

I look at the clock and its almost nine. I am starting to feel really nervous. The interview is scheduled for nine a.m. I watch as Taylor keys in data to his IPad. Then he looks up at three monitors that suddenly fill with images of Wanda. One monitor pans over the roof and zooms in showing my duct tape patches. Another camera zooms in on the rear bumper, again showing my duct tape fix. The third camera moves all around my car, then slowly zooms in on each tire, making it very apparent to anyone watching, my rear tires are almost as bald as a bowling ball.

Taylor grunts then looks at me and shakes his head in disbelief, "Either you are incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Does your father know you drove all the way here on those tires?"

I am appalled and pissed off at the same time. I want to tell him to mind his own business but I can't risk losing the interview. I can't think of anything placating to say, so I hang my head in shame and say nothing.

He keeps the screwdriver, the scissors and my duct tape, then sweeps everything back into my bag, neatly and efficiently. With a slight smirk, he slides my bag across the desk to me and explains my contraband will be returned later. I roll my eyes in exasperation.

He grunts again in displeasure, then directs me to stand up and promptly takes my picture. Like a mug shot, I have to turn sideways for a profile shot. I ought to feel like a prisoner but instead I feel safe. Its a strange feeling, I never feel safe.

Taylor plays some more on his IPad and then walks across the room to some sort of digital printer and waits while my laminated security badge with my photo slowly inches out. Once out, he adds a beaded chain, lays it on the desk and pushes it to me. "You will need to wear this." He adds, matter of a factly.

I put it on over my head, surprised he didn't try and do it himself. Maybe he doesn't like touching people either. I look at the clock, its 8:59 a.m. He stands and says "Please follow me."

We walk a short distance and an elegant blond behind the reception desk, nods for us to go right in.

"Fifteen minutes is all he can spare," she reminds me as I pass her desk.

I smile and try to be gracious. "Thank you. I appreciate it." I mentally groan knowing I still haven't had a chance to read Kate's notes or questions. She's talked about him the last few months, but all I can remember is he is a self made billionaire. Hopefully, he is not a grumpy old man, but that is the image I am preparing for.

Taylor holds the door open for me and I get two steps past him when I catch my heel in the carpet and go plunging forward. I just manage to not fall by staggering to his massive desk and clutching it for dear life.

The man behind the desk asks politely if I am okay. Beet red with embarrassment I force my eyes up to meet the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. Unruly copper hair and piercing gray eyes that don't miss anything. This man is nobody's fool. Our eyes meet and I feel like he can see inside my soul. I'm confused as I see a glimpse of wistfulness and then sadness. He reaches out his hand and introduces himself, "Christian Gray,"

I blush. This Adonis is Christian Grey? Oh my god. I swallow nervously and stare at his outstretched hand in horror. Finally, I find my voice, if a bit trembly, and explain apologetically, "I'm sorry, I don't shake hands. Please don't be offended.

" No offense taken, Miss?"

"I'm sorry, Steele, Anastasia Steele, but please call me Ana."

"Can I ask why you decline to shake hands, just out of curiosity?"

I sigh and take a seat in front of his desk. I notice Taylor has moved about six feet to my right and stands like a soldier at ease with feet spread and hands clasped behind him. I sigh again and start my spiel, "I have haphephobia, its a..."

He interrupts me. "I know what it is. Someone very close to me suffers from it." Those gray eyes now look tormented and a little lost. He slowly sits back down and looks at me thoughtfully. "Adult onset?" He asks, almost hopefully.

I shake my head no and say simply, "I was thirteen." I see the quick burst of anger in his eyes and suddenly understand. He knows and he's angry for me because he has haphephobia too.

"Do you have a specific no-go area?" He asks kindly.

"I do but it's a wide area, from my chest to my knees in front and my waist to my knees in back. How about you?"

He blinks and starts to answer, then stops. He meets my eyes head on. Simultaneously, we both realize that lying to each other is not an option. Somehow, we can both tell when the other is not truthful.

"I was four years old. Cigarette burns to my chest and back. I can't bear to be touched in either place." He finally answers, his eyes looking away so I can't read him.

My eyes fill with tears. I have never wanted to hold someone and offer them comfort as I do now. I have those same scars and I know how much they hurt. How could anyone do such a cruel deed to a baby! Only four years old! My heart is breaking for him. I can't remember the last time I was so overwhelmed with emotion.

He gives me a half-hearted smile, "You'd think after all these years, I would be used to the scars, that they wouldn't bother me anymore, but it doesn't work like that. I can't even hug my own mother."

Tears fall silently down my cheeks. He says nothing but slides a monogrammed hankerchief across the desk, making sure our hands don't touch. His thoughtfulness is my undoing and I cry openly behind it.

After regaining control of myself, I look up at his knowing gray eyes and confess that I too have scars.

"Are you comfortable having Taylor in the room with us?" He asks, ever so gently. Then he adds, "I can have a female replace him if it would make you feel safer?"

"No." I state clearly, "I have never felt safer or more protected than I do right now. Please let Taylor stay."

At that moment, there is a knock on the door and the blond is there, looking at Grey and reminding him, "Two minutes. Your 9:15 is here."

I gasp in horror to realize I haven't asked one question. Grey just snarls at the blond and orders her to cancel it. When she starts to protest, he becomes furious and demands arbitrarily she cancel everything for the rest of the day. There is no mistaking the finality of his decision. His tone of voice is emphatic. The blond calmly agrees and returns to her desk.

I am speechless. This is all my fault. He is angry at his staff because of me. "Please," I begin, "I am sorry I took up so much of your time with personal stuff. Please don't be angry with your staff. I hurriedly try to collect my belongings and avoid those knowing gray eyes. I am filled with guilt and don't know how I am ever going to be able to explain this to Kate.

" Anastasia!"

I look up slowly. Its uncanny how much his voice saying my name, reminded me of my dad, Ray. Another wave of tears start as I think of Ray.

"Anastasia," he calls in a softer voice. "I am not angry with Andrea, just a bit annoyed that she questioned me. I want to get to know you. I want to do your interview and I don't want to feel rushed. Andrea is used to me, she has worked for me for years. Don't worry about it."

I take a deep breath and try to relax and blow my nose. I am drawn to him, to his eyes, to his voice in a way I have never experienced before. I find myself wondering what it would be like to run my fingers through his beautiful copper hair. What is happening to me? I need Flynn. As soon as I leave here, I will call him.

"Why don't we sit over there on the couches where we can be more comfortable?" He suggests with a reassuring smile.

My heart starts to race at his words, but then the panic fades as I see his smile. I am safe with him. I know it, like I know my own name. Christian Grey won't hurt me. I start to stand and everything spins, I wobble and then plop back down into my seat again.

"Anastasia!" He calls in an alarmed voice and before I know it he is kneeling in front of me.

I try to reassure him I am okay and explain I just felt a little dizzy. He asks me when was the last time I ate. I try and remember but I am honestly not sure. Then I remember my apple and happily tell him I had half an apple on my drive in, but I dropped it and it rolled in the back. He wants to know what I ate yesterday. I try to avoid answering, but he is like a bull dog. Finally, I throw my hands up in surrender and admit I had tea for breakfast, yogurt for lunch and worked through dinner and forgot to eat.

He is beyond horrified. I can tell its taking all of his self control to not yell at me. I shrink in my seat. He starts apologizing, then picks up his phone and tells Andrea, he wants breakfast for four, with a separate platter of sausages and bacon. He looks back at me and asks coffee or tea. I tell him tea, hot water is all I need; I have my own tea bags.

He stands and moves to my side. Taylor approaches and moves to my other side. Grey holds out his hand to help me up from the chair, and I can't resist taking it. I must have lost my mind.

As soon as our hands touch, I feel a momentary shock, but not the terrible, burning pain I normally would feel at someone's touch. I can't believe I let him touch me. I gasp, but hold on tighter to his hand. I feel safe, maybe for the first time in my whole life, I feel safe and protected. For the short time I am here, I don't need to look over my shoulder. Best of all I am breathing normally. Flynn is going to flip.

We move over to the two white leather couches that face each other but end up sitting on the same couch. Taylor positions himself by the wall. I look down at our hands that are still clasped and smile in amazement. He looks and smiles, then orders Taylor to snap some pictures on his phone. I squeel in mock horror but Taylor is grinning and happily snapping off pictures of us on his phone, ignoring my halfhearted protests. The truth is, I really do want a picture of us holding hands, if only to prove to Flynn it really happened. I am happy, happier than I have ever felt before. He looks at me with his silly grin and he is just adorable. Without thinking, my free hand reaches up to touch his hair and freezes just beside his head.

"Go ahead, be brave, you can do it!" He encourages me, so I do. His hair is wavy and soft. I lean close and sniff. The scent is intoxicating. I am feeling things I have never felt before and never imagined I would feel in my lifetime.

"Tell me about yourself." He commands softly. Just like the rest of the world, I humbly obey.

"I am 22 and graduated last semester with a 4.0 average. I majored in English and literature and took most of my classes on line, except for the science labs. I was able to get permission to do them one-on-one with my professor. Kate tagged along for moral support. I don't think I could have done it without her support. Flynn wanted to come too. Actually, Flynn wanted to come regardless, but I shot that down."

I couldn't help but notice Taylor's head jerk up at the mention of Flynn.

" Flynn?" Grey asks.

"He's my shrink. He heard about my case and offered to take me on as a patient pro bono. We Skype twice a week and meet in person when we can."

"You would come to Seattle?"

I sigh. "I don't get to Seattle that often. Usually, there's a knock on the door and there is Flynn. Whenever I would be going through a bad time, he would always mysteriously show up. I don't know if Kate called him or he picked up on something in our Skype sessions, but he is a wonderful therapist, even if he is a pain in the ass."

Grey is staring at me with this weird expression on his face. He looks at me and then looks at Taylor who has allowed the tiniest of smirks to grace his face. Grey shakes his head in disbelief and confides, "Flynn is my shrink too!"

I burst into laughter. Who would ever believe that poor, plain Ana could have so much in common with a billionaire. It's unbelievable. Slowly, my smile fades as I realize I must tell him and he isn't going to be happy. Will he even still want to do the interview? I better not say anything.

"Anastasia, what is it?"

"It's nothing, Mr Grey."

"Call me Christian, Ana. It is something. It was like a huge dark shadow crossed your face."

I sit and stare out into the gloomy Seattle skyline, debating whether or not to tell him."

"Anastasia, tell me." He commands.

I decide to comply. "Sometimes, if I am touched unexpectedly, I have breathing problems."

His keen eyes know I am leaving out something important.

"Explain, Anastasia. You can trust me."

I hang my head, not wanting to see the look on his face when I tell him.

"Look at me, Anastasia. I need to see your eyes."

My shame filled eyes look up at him. "No one can explain it. Breathing is an involuntary reflex. You can hold your breath until you pass out but eventually your brain commands your body to breathe. Except, I don't."

His beautiful gray eyes are concerned and puzzled."What happened?" He asked gently.

"Last year I went to a small Christmas party with Kate and some of our friends. There was a guy there who kept bugging me to dance. I explained, I don't dance. Period. Kate told him to go bother someone else and chased him off. A little later, Kate and I were getting ready to go and decided to hit the ladies room. On our way there, she met up with an old flame and stopped to chat. I went ahead alone. I was scared, but it was so close and there was hardly anyone around. He came out of the Men's Room as I was about to enter the Ladies Room.

He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me hard against his chest. Then he started to shove his tongue down my throat. I don't remember anything else. Apparently, I stopped breathing. Someone started CPR, paramedics came and the next thing I knew I was in ICU, intubated and unable to breathe on my own. Kate got Flynn involved on my second day in ICU.

The doctors could find no medical reason for my failure to breathe, but every time they removed the tube, they had to reinsert it. Flynn showed up with some theory they all bought into and allowed him to try something different. He had me brought to a private room and told me what was going to happen. Then he injected me with a tranquilizer and had another doctor pull out the tube. It took three minutes of Flynn's constant reassuring voice before my body finally gave in and started to breathe. In our next session I found out Flynn was furious with me because I put myself in a dangerous situation just to please Kate. I still don't think that is entirely true. I wanted to be normal, for just a little while. If I had known what was going to happen, I never would have gone.

Anyway, now I have to wear a medic alert and carry a syringe with a tranquilizer."

He squeezes my hand and it feels so good. We both look down at our clasped hands simultaneously and smile, if a little nervously. He stares into my eyes while gently massaging the back of my hand with his thumb. "I am glad you didn't stop breathing." He whispers softly.

"So am I," I reply happily.

Just then there is a knock on the door announcing breakfast.