I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next time I open my eyes sunlight is softly filtering through the shark enclosure surrounding me. Sharks drift lazily about the depths, somehow confident despite being, you know, animals. I have to admit - there might be something to this whole shark obsession. Christian is nowhere to be seen.

I clad myself in the discarded vestments laying around the room, wondering where Christian was. It seems out of character for him to be somewhere other than the room where sharks are. Unless there's more shark rooms somewhere else, I reason.

"Christian?" I hesitantly scream.

The door to the room opens several minutes later. It's Christian. He stares at me in silence for a solid 3 or 4 minutes. My heart begins to pound. My blood's pumping around my body. My sweat glands are operating at full capacity. Desire, thick and hot, pools in my belly. Desire's really not that nourishing, I notice.

"Is there any breakfast?" I ask. "I'm awfully hungry after all that blood loss yesterday."

"Yes, of course there's breakfast. Come with me."

He turns around and leads me up a flight a stairs. I just can't help but stare at his en-sweatpants-ed ass. You know what they say - I hate to see him leave but I love to see his butt. Do sharks have butts? Like does a fin count as a butt or is it the legs? They've got front bits for sure - and a front implies a back, right? They've probably got wacky nonsense junk too. I almost ask Christian but stop myself - I'm pretty sure if I get him started on shark genitals I'd regret it almost immediately. We finally arrive in a cozy, yet spacious breakfast nook. Good thing he's not asking what I'm thinking about, right?

"You look pretty lost in your thoughts, Ana. What are you thinking about?"

Shit. Think fast, girl! "The portrayal of animated skeletons in popular culture has always bugged me - bones aren't just for structure, they also make all of the body's blood. Skeletons should just be dripping red messes all the time - objectively far more terrifying and yet no one's even tried to do it justice. And if it's just a matter of animating dead bones - any object will -"

Christian's chuckle pulls me out of my rant. "I guess this is how it's like to be on the receiving end of one of my shark rants," he laughs.

"Except I don't have a sex room full of bleeding skeletons," I counter.

"Oh. Yeah, you got me there. Anyway, before we get to breakfast I'm going to need you to sign this."

Christian slides a thin sheaf of papers towards me on the counter.

"This is a non-disclosure agreement." He shrugs and has the grace to look a little embarassed. "My lawyer insists on it."

"Non-disclosure on what, exactly?"

"Oh, you know - taking an injured young woman to my private residence instead of the hospital, a bunch of intimate sex stuff, the address of my private house-"

"Your shark dungeon?"

"Oh, for sure. I am keeping far more sharks in my house than any law allows."

"Well I hate to break it to you, hunky-boy, but you've got a shit lawyer. NDAs only work for things disclosed after signing." I hope I'm not talking out of my ass here, but I really can't be bothered to google this before confronting him. "Plus, I'm not signing anything like that without getting something else out of it."

"I do still like you though," I smile. "Don't mistake this for a lack of interest in pursuing you."

Christian looks hopeful at this. "Would you then be interested in looking at the other paperwork too?"

"Other paperwork?"

"Yeah, the sex contract."

"Sex. Contract."

"Yeah, you know - a contract saying what we will and won't do, vis a vis all the sex acts. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. We need to make our stance on fisting very clear from the start. This is consensual, Anastasia."

"That is one hundred percent not how consent works, buddy."

Christian thwacks a thick folio down on the counter in front of me. It's got to be like sixty pages long, at least.

"This has got to be like sixty pages long, at least," I say. "Did that same lawyer help you draft this up?"

"Yes, he said this was the standard sex contract package."

"First, stop saying sex contract. It's never been and never will be a thing. Second, your lawyer is fucking with you. There is no way this is enforceable - this is honestly like something a sex trafficking ring would use."

I flip through the contract, reading bits and pieces. "Giving me a list of foods I have to eat off of, dictating what clothes I wear, mandatory exercise? Hell to the noooo. Please tell me a woman's never read this thing and voluntarily signed it."

Christian looks like his world is shattering around him. I think I need to give him a lifeline or I might lose him and his nice butt forever. I grab a pen and flip over the NDA and write on the back:

ANA AND CHRISTIAN'S RELATIONSHIP TERMS

This here doc certifies that we like each other and would like to bang on occasion (provided both parties consent at the time). Ana will keep Christian's shark stuff to herself provided Christian makes an attempt at learning how normal people behave.

The end

Christian reads it and smiles. "I'm going outside my comfort zone here," he says. "But I'm willing to take a risky move for you."