A/N: I guess I should say I am not E.L. James – she owns the character names like Ana, and Christian; everything else, the rest, in this story is mine.
A/N: We have a beta, the fabulous Toni
Thank you Toni!
-X0 from all of us!
Stranger at my door
CH02: Ana
As I frantically search the kitchen for batteries, I notice it is only four minutes past eight; the whole exchange took less than five minutes and has turned my relaxing morning routine into a frantic quest. Yes, I am searching, hunting, foraging for that which fuels the Energizer Bunny; in the process hitting my left knee on the side of one the open pink drawers. Yet I find nothing, zip, zilch, zero, nada.
I waddle upstairs feeling the cool hardwood floors under foot, climbing the stairs favoring my left knee, and I limp until I reach my bathroom. I love my bathroom; it has large gray slate floor tiles that are smooth under foot and cold to the touch. There are white subway tiles surrounding the bathtub and separate shower from which the light bounces in just the right way to form small rainbows here and there.
I had a skylight installed to allow natural light that brightens the room and gives a serene feeling to the space. As usual, I look up to the sky and give a quick morning prayer - for love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. There is no law against these things!
I take a quick shower as my mind keeps swirling around images of the stranger at my door; he was so handsome with grey eyes and reddish messy hair. I cannot recall his name, Grey was it? Chris, Christopher… Christy was the little girl… shit what was his name? Well Adonis the stranger has to be it from now on I suppose.
My hair is certainly unruly today; there is no time left, so, I do the sensible thing and braid it to the side. Hurriedly I slip on my favorite easy to wear but yet nice-enough-to-go-to-work outfit. It is fitted and makes me look dressed up.
I have a meeting and I want to look professional but at the same time not look as if I am trying too hard to impress. My outfit consists of a dark charcoal 'A' line skirt, the fabric has some give to it and is quite comfortable. The three quarter length button up silk blouse is a matching charcoal, which has large five silver buttons on the front and at the end of the sleeves. I finish up with eye liner and lip gloss.
I think I look pretty good and wink at myself as I hurry about my apartment collecting all the manuscripts I have been reading during the weekend. All of them have some sort of romance and erotica themes, and I have to decide if SIP should jump into the erotica band wagon – I have a speech prepared along with facts and examples of why it is a good idea, even the target market is growing among mainstream readers.
Right at ten to nine, I stumble out the door, and I see no other than Adonis walking down the street; his little girl is still protectively perched on his hip. She is clutching a pink balloon and looks like she has been crying. There are a few men in suits around, and I recognized them as the same men I saw earlier and thought were passersby, now I think they are probably all together – odd.
I smile, wave and cross the street – don't look back, maybe he is checking out my ass. I should probably sway my hips but I am so clumsy I'll be happy if I do not stumble. I need some girl power to give me inspiration here.
As I turn the corner to enter SIP, I look back and there he is, looking at me and with a smirk and a wave he goes into the very expensive looking black car he is standing next to. I cannot help my smile, Adonis the stranger was checking me out. How about that; girl power rules!
"Morning, Ana!" Claire the-ever-cheerful receptionist greats me "Looking good!"
"Thanks Claire, how was your weekend?" wait for it, wait for it, and there she goes.
She starts talking about the latest movie, club, concert, game or whatever she went to with her friends. I wait for a little bit, agreeing at the right times and eventually interrupting her with a "Sounds like fun!" and leave for the sanctuary that is my office.
Time flies at work but the images of Adonis the stranger keep popping up in my mind. It does not help that the manuscript I am currently reading describes in detail the luscious, and delectable sex-escapades of a couple on their honeymoon. By midmorning, the images have transformed from Adonis the stranger to Adonis the lover stranded at a love-nest Swiss Chalet in the Alps.
I finally breakdown and hit Google – in this age, everyone is online and at the very least may have a Facebook account or blog – or so goes my train of thought, I really would like to see his relationship status: single, divorced, unattached are all good, I think.
As I start to type Grey Chris Google ever so helpfully suggests 'Grey Christian' and there he is. The pictures staring at me are of my handsome stranger. I click on the first link which is a biography. There are two pictures of him. In one he is in an impressive tux, in the other he is shirtless on a sailboat.
OMG – he is even more impressive of a male specimen than I had previously thought. His muscles are ripped and look like an old fashion washboard. I ogle and drool over that picture for minutes on end. The article goes on about how he is one of Washington's most eligible bachelors – not surprising at all. He started his own company that is now worth billions – yes with a 'B'. Wow impressive!
Mr. Christian Grey, the CEO is very private; a philanthropist who was adopted as a child, has a reputation of a bad temper and being a ruthless businessman. There are several pictures of him at different galas, appearances and business meetings.
My investigation of Mr. hard-abs is interrupted by the ring on my laptop that reminds me of the meeting with the senior panel.
I go to my meeting with the proposal that SIP represent and publish erotica and give some new authors a try. I present my arguments and provide examples from the scripts I have read over the weekend; I even remember to present the facts of a growing readership base.
The senior panel listens attentively and I am overly enthusiastic about the whole issue, no doubt due to pining away over a handsome stranger for the last few hours. The panel takes my proposal under advisement and I will know for sure in a few days or maybe a week.
Once I am done, I grab two of the cupcakes on the counter and head to my office. Today's cupcakes have little books made of icing on top and are adorable. They look too pretty to eat so I put them on my desk and continue my research regarding one Mr. Christian Grey.
The next entries are from newspapers and tabloid magazines – oh!
Stupefied, with my mouth hanging open, I continue to read articles, stories and speculation over what went on a little bit less than a year ago.
News World reports a night of 'Terror' at Escala as an unstable woman holds a child hostage; the woman is dead by the end of the ordeal. Christian Grey's PR office blocks all attempts to figure out if the child is a boy or a girl and what type of relationship the child has to Grey – obviously that is his daughter Christy; how horrible, poor baby.
From what I am able to put together from all the tabloids, such as the Seattle Nooze, Mirror, Enquirer, and US Weekly, which reported on the incident; the woman was a past girlfriend, Ms. Leila Williams. She broke into the upscale apartment holding the child, claiming that the baby was Christian's. Soon the situation escalated and the FBI and hostage negotiators got involved; but Williams committed suicide as the child was rescued – totally disturbing.
By this time I am on the edge of my seat, I cannot read fast enough and my brain is trying to catch up with the images I am seeing, the emotions I am feeling, and the anxiety of wanting to learn more.
Up until then nobody knew Christian Grey had a love child, apparently not even him.
A later paternity test demonstrated he is the child's father and that information was leaked to the press. Christian Grey sued the magazine that leaked the paternity test results and they are now out of business; as well as the technician that sold the information. From then on, there are no mentions of the child in any publication.
Some of the tabloids claim that the woman was 'crazy in love' with Christian and even claim that the couple was into BDSM. Some of the magazines investigated Ms. Williams and they found rumors of her only ever having BDSM relationships, and belonging to different underground clubs that are frequented by high rollers; no more details have been published since then.
From the office of Christian Grey, in some PR releases, he admits that indeed he has a child from a long-term relationship with Ms. Williams, there were some aspects of 'kink' in their relationship, as many mature and consenting adults do all over the world. He requested the media to please leave them alone so that he may build a future with his child and leave his private life private – wonder what kind of 'kink' he really is into.
Several women then came out as past submissives of one 'Master Grey;' however, there is no evidence at all for their claims and the rumors die as fast as they surface. Some reports claim that Williams was using the child to trap the young entrepreneur; others that she was blackmailing him.
Up until then, there was speculation that Grey was gay, and Out Magazine has a whole spread about Grey Gay/Post-Gay/Not Gay speculation. Esquire magazine had a 'Grey Fatherhood' on the cover. As time passes, the stories dwindled down; now there is scarcely even a mention of the whole mess; recently, the only stories are about his business and professional life.
I look at the dates and recognize that all this happened when I was breaking up with Jose, and so it seems I missed one of the biggest tabloid stories around here. Not that I read tabloids that often but still, it seems hard that I missed the entire saga.
I jump as I hear a knock at my office door. I look over to my clock and it is already noon, I was so enthralled reading about my newly found obsession that I had forgotten I was at work.
"Come in!" I answer with a higher than normal voice and closing my browser.
As the door opens, I see him and an embarrassed flush spreads all the way over my body and across my face; I'm surprised to say the least - is this real, am I dreaming? Is the object of my on line stalking standing before me looking like he just stepped out of a magazine?
"Miss Steele –" It is a statement rather than a question. His low voice rattles my senses, my blood seems to have rushed south, and once again my core liquefies...
~0~0~ TBC
… until next time… Thanks for reading!
