CPOV

It's 1:37 am. I'm home but still at my desk and even though I've already been working for hours, I know I won't sleep so instead, I grab the list of directors I asked Andrea to compile for me. There's eight names here but I remember when she handed the list to me, her saying she really liked the first one. I didn't fucking ask her but I suppose it's possible she could know more about film than I do. The first name on the list is Anastasia Steele. I've never heard of her, which isn't all that surprising, but as I scan the list, the others do all seem vaguely familiar. I type her name into Google and a few images appear that quickly catch my eye. She looks quite young to be a successful director. I scroll down through more pictures of her and begin taking note of even the smallest details of her face. I notice her long silky brunette hair and fair porcelain skin. I notice that her eyes are a striking color of blue and her lips have a unique shape and fullness that I actually very arousing. I reposition myself in my office chair and continue looking through the pictures of her. In every one, she looks more and more beautiful. Never overly done up, just naturally beautiful. I wasn't expecting to see such an attractive young woman and I realize now that I've become completely captivated with her.

Jesus, she is... fucking gorgeous!

It suddenly dawns on me that I can't work with this woman. I have a strict rule about mixing business with pleasure, and the full hard on I have now makes it pretty obvious there would be a problem. Not to mention that because I don't do relationships, and definitely don't do emotions, I could only fuck her a couple of times at most. That seems to be the limit before I start seeing women looking into my eyes, pleading for me to feel the same for them as they feel for me. Looking at these pictures of Ms. Anastasia Steele right now, I truly don't think a couple of times would be enough for me.

I want to move on to the next name on the list, like I know I should, but I can't stop myself from continuing to research her and her works. She's been rather successful to be only 29. Her films The Virgin Suicides and Lost in Translation are quite acclaimed. The more I learn about her, the more I realize why Andrea favored her. In the few interviews I've found with her, she's come across as intelligent and insightful, ambitious but also very gracious. As I well know, this could all be fabricated PR bullshit but her films seem to speak for themselves. It appears she has a gift for expressing the human condition, for "capturing the small nuances of moments that provoke true assimilation to her characters" as stated in one of her most recent editorial write ups. It's obvious she really would be perfect to make this documentary on Darfur, because that's exactly what I'm trying to do. Help assimilate rich spoiled assholes with a feeling, I'm sure, they've never come close to experiencing themselves. I know she could do that and I'm certain she'll be the first I interview for the project. But if I'm honest, despite my usual control over my desires, I'm not certain that once she's actually in front of me, I won't decline her for the sheer sake of allowing myself to fuck her. Either way at the point, I'm far too intrigued by this young woman and need to meet with her. Soon.

"Andrea, contact Anastasia Steele to set up an interview. Here in Seattle. Tomorrow." I snap as I walk past the reception desk and into my office. Over the course of last night, I jacked off twice while thinking of Anastasia before being able to fall asleep. Unfortunately, it did nothing but fuel my desire for her even further. Regardless though, it may have been the clear light of day that allowed me to see past my thick arousal but while Taylor drove us to Grey House this morning, I decided there was no way I was going to let my attraction for her affect her doing this project. Never, have I let a woman or sex interfere with business. Though this is technically charity, not "business" proper, which I did toss around for a while as a possible, but thinly veiled, rationalization for breaking my own rules. But no, she's perfect for the project and I won't fuck that up by crossing any lines. I'll make sure of it.

And I do mean that, but even now that I'm here in my office, when I would normally be completely engulfed in work by this time, I just stand here, hands in my suit pockets as I gaze out over Seattle. I simply can't get her face out of my mind. Those eyes, her perfect skin, and those fucking lips. Fuck! The thing that strikes me as the most odd about all this is that I don't even know this girl, never actually laid eyes on her or heard her speak, and know nothing of her personality. I can't recall ever feeling attracted to just the idea of a person. Of course I'm human and have my own sexual needs and desires but my mind has always tended to center entirely on the physical release, never on the person through which I'm finding the release. Basically, I'm a soulless asshole who provides no emotions what so ever to the women in my life. Besides the Elena shit, every woman I've slept with was attractive enough but mostly they were just victims of circumstance. They just happened to be around when I decided jacking off wouldn't cut it that night. I can say with full certainty that Anastasia would be no mere circumstantial choice...

APOV

"Ana, are you familiar with Grey Enterprises Holdings?" I hear my assistant, Kristen ask from my doorway.

"Not in the slightest. Why?" I ask as I continue typing furiously on a new script.

"Because I was just contacted by them, asking to set a meeting with you. I did a quick search, it seems it's a billion dollar company that does primarily mergers and acquisitions, but also some sustainability work. It's owned by a Mr. Christian Grey. Anyway, I looked around for some connection to the industry but I don't see anything." With that, I look up from my computer and turn towards Kristen with a skeptical look.

"Well, did they say what the meeting would be about?"

"Not specifically. The woman I spoke to, Andrea, just said it was regarding a personal project of Mr. Grey's. She wouldn't explain more than that. I'm not sure she knew herself."

"A personal project? Who exactly is this guy again?"

"I don't know, just some big-time business guy. I really couldn't find too much about him online besides the information regarding his company. But actually, you should pull him up. He's very… good looking," Kristen says, with an embarrassed but knowing grin. So I do.

Whoa… umm. She's certainly not kidding!

My eyes widen and my mouth parts ever so slightly. I hear Kristen giggle from the doorway.

"Okay, I guess set something up for the next evening I have open. Maybe make reservations at Chateau."

"Oh, no umm, he wants the meeting to take place in Seattle… tomorrow."

"What!? Is he kidding? I don't even know what this is about. Why would I drop everything and run to the airport for him tomorrow?"

"He would like to send his jet... actually."

"Is that right?" I say rhetorically as I worry my lip trough my teeth. I am a little curious, there's no doubt about that… "Okay, tell him yes I suppose. Email me the schedule."

The next morning, I'm at Santa Monica Airport and being escorted by a man named Sawyer over the tarmac and onto a jet marked with the large letters 'GEH.' Once on board, we both take our seats and are offered beverages. Sawyer declines but I accept a mimosa. Normally, I would never have a drink before a meeting but I just have a feeling… an instinct really, that this day will be anything but normal. Quietly, Sawyer sits next to me, giving off no sign that's he's interested in talking. He's a big guy, tall with broad shoulders, probably ex-military if I had to guess. I can understand Mr. Grey sending a chaperone I suppose but this feels more like sending security. Why would he need to send security with me? For what feels like the entire two hours of the flight, I gaze out the window and wonder what this is all about. Why am I being flown to Seattle on a private jet with a security guard to meet a man I don't know to discuss something he hasn't disclosed to me? Maybe he's looking for new places to invest… or maybe he's buying a film studio. No, Kristen said it was a personal project. Surly this guy isn't gonna try and pitch me some stupid script he wrote and thinks is pure fucking gold. At least a dozen times, I go back and fourth, starting to wonder if I shouldn't have agreed to this…

Once we arrive in Seattle, Sawyer drives us to our destination in a black Audi SUV, while I sit in the back with the privacy glass between the front and rear seats rolled up. This is all so odd. When we park, Sawyer opens the door for me and instructs me to follow him. We walk over to an elevator in the parking garage and he enters a code once we're inside. We exit at the 28th floor and Sawyer leads us to a large and empty glass conference room. He shows me a private bathroom and tells me he will let Mr. Grey know I've arrived. I enter the restroom and walk directly over to the mirror. I use the time to mentally go over strategies for handling any hypothetical situation that may occur right now. Oddly though, I get a familiar feeling of being a submissive. Here I am, waiting and wondering what's about to happen. I have no knowledge of what this man is planing for us and so far, I've been stripped of any decision making. As much as I enjoy it, I take a deep breath and dismiss my submissive mind. This isn't the time or place. I leave the bathroom and take a seat at the large table. And I wait.

Fifteen minutes later, the large glass door swings open and a young dark-haired man walks in. He's dressed well but the way he carries himself tells me right away that he's not even close to a 'higher-up' around here. I've spent enough time around the business men of film to know what the ones with power look like. This guy, he's not serious enough, he has a genuine smile on his face, fuck, he might actually even be happy.

"Ms. Steele, I'm Eric Johnson, I'm with Mr. Grey's PR team. It's so nice to meet you. I love your work." He strides over to me, all too eager.

"Hello Mr. Johnson, Anastasia Steele. It's my pleasure." I shake his extended hand and give him a closed-mouth smile. "Tell me, when will Mr. Grey be joining us?"

"Oh he won't be making it today Ms. Steele, he had a sudden change of plans, he requested that I meet with you." He looks at me like this is perfectly acceptable. Like I haven't flown here on 12 hours notice for a meeting I didn't request! Like Grey didn't send a kid from PR to talk to me about his personal project.

Mmm, no I don't think so Mr. Grey.

"Is he in this building?"

"Uh, yes Ma'am, I believe so."

"Is he fucking kidding me?! Is this a joke?" I stand up and lean over the table on both hands. "Get Grey in here now or I'm walking out the door. I don't know who this boss of yours is and I don't care. What I do care about is that he's wasting my fucking time!" I suppose that was a little harsh, but now I'm just mad. If I let every man with overflowing money bags I've dealt with get away with this shit, I'd never be where I am today. I've had to stand and fight in every moment like this in order to keep my footing.

"I'll try Ms. Steele, umm, please don't leave, umm, just give me one moment…" he struggles to say as he walks backward towards the door and then quickly darts out of the room. His behavior intrigues me. Even though I was the one who just took the harsh tone with him, it's not me he's afraid of. The boss must be a real asshole.

I pace the room for a few minutes, before stopping in front of the glass wall to look out at the city. It's an amazing view, but I can't thinking about how isolated it makes you feel from the rest of the world.

"Mr. Grey will see you now," I hear a stern but polite voice say from behind me. When I turn around, I see a tall and exquisitely groomed blonde woman. She's giving me the same closed mouth smile I was giving Eric a moment ago. I must be getting closer to the power. She leads me to an expansive oak door and extends her hand towards it, offering me to enter. So I do.

And holy hell…

There he is, standing in front of his very large desk, legs slightly apart, with one arm wrapped across his chest and the other reaching up so that a finger covers his lips. He's looking at me from under his brow with the stare of a predator. I stop my approach but keep my eyes fixed with his, challenging his glare. He doesn't flinch. I start to wonder how long we'll square off like this when he finally growls a statement at me.

"Ms. Steele, welcome."

"Thank you," I respond with a dryness that expresses how unwelcome I actually feel. He drops his hand from his mouth, takes a deep breath, and lifts his head slightly to lessen his scowl. For a moment, I'm able to see just how handsome he really is. The pictures I'd seen of him didn't even come close to capturing how striking, how alluring he actually is in person. Just how captivating his dark stormy eyes are, how silky and masculine his voice is...

"I'm Christian Grey. Thank you for coming." He turns on his heel and walks behind his desk. "Sit… please," he says sternly while his back is to me. Even though Mr. Grey has regained his composure, I'm still standing where I was, trying to read this fucking weird situation. He turns to sit and notices I haven't moved. His eyes leave mine and travel down to my lips. His impassive expression falters as I see one corner of his mouth turn up ever so slightly.

Mmm, so he likes what he sees?

"Have a seat," he says again. So I do. His eyes move back up to meet my gaze. "I understand you were unhappy about meeting with Mr. Johnson."

What the hell Grey. I know this young billionaire has to be smarter than this.

"Mr. Grey, I was under the impression this was regarding a personal project, so yes, I'd like to meet with the person to whom it's personal."

"Yes, well… here we are." Again, I notice his eyes are on my lips and his mind is somewhere else entirely.

"And what are we here for... Mr. Grey?" I want him to get to the point, but certainly not because I'm in a hurry to get out of his hungry stare. I'm actually quite intrigued with the interaction happening here, even though I don't fully understand it yet. I do know that whatever business we might have together, it's definitely not what's fueling this odd tension in our conversation.

"For you to direct a short documentary for me. I do relief work in Africa, right now primarily in the Darfur region. Our methods there have been a success and I'd like to greatly expand the project. I want you to accompany me to Darfur and document how and what we're doing over there, but more importantly, I need you to capture why we're doing it. The film will be used to help attract donors and volunteers so I need the message to be compelling and real. From what I know of your work, you're quite good at capturing that."

My my, Mr. Grey. Nowhere in that response was a question.

And now I understand. No wonder this man had me slipping into submission in the bathroom… if he's not a dominant, then it's only because he just doesn't know it yet. But now... I know. I know he got where he is because of it, he beckoned me here without regard because of it, and now I'm interested in something besides business with him because of it. It's funny I didn't realize the moment I saw him because, even though his looks are more than striking, they pale in comparison to his overt dominant nature. I suppose I just wasn't expecting it but what a nice surprise to stumble onto. Truly dominant men are more rare than one would think.

"Mr. Grey, I'm flattered. And congratulations on your successful humanitarianism. I'm sure it's wonderful what you're doing. Unfortunately I can't do the project. I would love to be a part of it but my schedule's booked two years out. There's now way I could fit this in and do it any justice." I'm expecting a little push back because I'm sure he hears the word 'no,' well... fucking never. But instead, the corner of his mouth curls up again.

"Are you certain I can't change your mind?"

"Yes sir, I am," I say with a sweet smile.

"That's most unfortunate." But he's not actually disappointed. He's back to staring at my lips and I notice the minuscule adjustment he just made in his seat. I can't read his thoughts but I would stake my life that if I could see the images he's playing out in his mind, the essence of dominance and submission would be present throughout them. I'm very curious to know if I'm right. One quick question to my assistant over the phone about my schedule would've made this meeting unnecessary, but now I'm so glad I came. Three minutes of interacting with him face to face and I'm willing to adjust that schedule… a little.

"It is. But tell me, are you free tonight Mr. Grey? There's actually something I'd like to discuss with you." He stares at me contemplatively for several moments. He must be trying to read if this request of mine is one of business or pleasure. Either way, I suppose he's okay with it because he doesn't ask.

"I am… Mile High, 8 pm. Mr. Sawyer can take you anywhere you need to go until then."

"Thank you, that's very kind" We both stand to leave and as I make my way to the elevator, he follows along behind me. As soon as I push the call button, the door opens so I step in and turn to face him.

"It was nice meeting you. I'll see you at eight," I say, trying to break our silence. But he's staring again, and this time he looks almost scared. I smile back at him and laugh to myself inside.

Don't be afraid Mr. Grey. I'm not going to hurt you.

"Anastasia" he says with a slight nod as the door begins to close.

"Christian."

Once I'm back in the Audi, I ask Sawyer to drive me to Bloomingdales. I have time to kill and I don't feel like wearing the white silk button down and black slacks I wore to the meeting. When we arrive, Sawyer follows me in without a word, but I don't fight him on it.

He must be security because he certainly isn't good company.

For about twenty minutes, I stroll around looking for a new 'little black dress' but the one that finally calls to me is plum. It'll still work well with the black heels and beige trench coat I'm wearing so I purchase it and head back to the car. I then ask Sawyer to take me to a hotel near the restaurant and for him to please let the pilot at SeaTac know that I won't be leaving tonight. I'm not making plans to spend the night with Christian, but I am creating enough time for me to have a proper conversation with him. If he's totally naive to this topic, it could take some time for me to explain why I'm approaching him with this. But I know he would be a natural, so if it's something he would like to explore, I'd be more than happy to be the one to show him.

At the hotel, I relax for a bit and then get myself ready for dinner. I love the dress but I probably should've tried it on. It's very form fitting and making quite a display of my chest. It's certainly not helping my claim that for tonight, I'm only interested in talking to him. I stand and turn in the mirror, wondering if I should change, but I'm interrupted when the room phone rings. It's the reception desk telling me my driver is waiting. The dress will have to do so I grab my coat and head down to the lobby.

Mmm... And so goes the lamb into the lion's den…