Wow, such wonderful reviews, I am deeply moved! Luna, augiesanne, daytonalay, thank you! I am glad you are enjoying it, I´m glad I seem to be doing a good job. I hope to keep up the good work!

This is another very, very long chapter that I had to split in two parts. The second part will be published before the end of the week, since I´m practically done with it. It´s the beginning of the end of a very busy day for Ana and Christian. He is mentally tired, and it shows. Sorry about any typos, if there are any still there - I did my best to remove them all, but you never know.

See first chapter for the disclaimer.

Thank you for reading!

Now have fun with it - and I hope you will!

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Chapter 07

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"I want to love you but I better not touch,

I want to hold you, but my senses tell me to stop,

I want to kiss you but I want it too much,

I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison.

You're poison, running through my veins,

You're poison.

I don't want to break these chains..."

Alice Cooper, Poison

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As I navigate the roads of suburban Portland towards Clayton´s Hardware Store, Anastasia entertains me with tales about her favorite professor, while Scriabin´s Poème de L´Extase plays on the radio. My girl looks incredible – she is happy, and I love to see her happy. Her eyes are sparking, she is gesticulating as she talks – always a good sign. It takes all of my self-discipline to pay attention to the traffic while I drive, instead of just gaping at her like an idiot.

"She was not what I expected," I admit, eyes glued to a particularly busy road, as I remember Alexandra Frazier in her colorful flowing dress and her natural silver hair. "She´s not your stereotypical scholar, is she?"

Most definitely not! The woman looked like she had just jumped from an audition for a part in Hair. Not the stereotypical college professor – not the stereotypical sexual submissive either. Or dominant.

But let us leave all that for later…

"I know, she´s incredible. I was so lucky she agreed to be my mentor. Did you know she was a hippie?"

Now why doesn´t that surprise me?

She giggles - her voice is music to my ears, a balm to my overworked brain cells, and I gladly let her ramble away.

"Yeah, but don´t let that fool you. She knows her stuff."

"You mean, the Brontës, Miss Austen and… let us not forget Hardy."

"Oh yes. Thomas Hardy. Especially him. No one understands him like she does."

I bet!

Sex, murder, illegitimate children, unmarried living together… yes, the man definitely ruffled the Victorian feathers with his novels. I can see how it would appeal to someone as unusual as Ana´s professor. What surprised me when I first heard it is that they had drawn Ana as well – but only for a second or two. When I heard her shy admission that first day in my office that she fell in love with English literature when she read Thomas Hardy, I knew I there was so much more behind Anastasia Steele´s initial clumsiness and frumpy looks.

I am more than a little relieved, actually by the direction of our conversation. I was expecting Ana would start bombarding me with questions about the strange mood back in the tea room as soon as we were alone. Yes, I know she sensed it, judging by the puzzled looks she threw at me. Knowing her, I can guess the questions will be unavoidable, but at least I will be better prepared for them, when and if they ever come.

"It´s all very romantic, she had such an amazing life…" She still rambles about her favorite college professor. "Not that she talks a lot about it to her students, but one hears things. You know. Campus gossip."

Campus gossip? Romantic?

Oh Anastasia, you´re incorrigible!

"Is she married?"

"Oh yes. When I said I would be moving to Seattle after graduation, she told me she spends half the week there because of her husband´s job. He is a professor at the WSU medical school."

"English lit?"

"Nope. Medicine. He is a doctor, and a relatively famous one. This according to Kate – I´ve never met him. She says they are a very unlikely couple."

Oh baby, you have no idea!

"And why does Miss Kavanaugh say that?"

"Allie is a former flower child, he is… not… I mean, he is more like you, you know."

That deserves a raised eyebrow.

Anastasia, what marvelous instincts you have!

"Although Allie told us once that he did have his wild days in the past when they first met. It seems they have a very complicated history, but I don´t know much about it."

"Define complicated."

Fifty shades of fucked up? I highly doubt it.

"You are unusually curious today, Mr. Grey. It´s just old campus gossip…"

"I´m unusually overwrought, Miss Steele. I love the sound of your voice, it soothes me. I love your way with words. I would be happy even if you began reciting Emerson´s Essays to me, but this sounds more fun."

"She is fun, isn´t she? We could come down one day and sit though one of her lectures, you´d love it. She has some very unique views about literature."

"I bet she does! Do you know the name of her husband? If he is based in Seattle, my mother might know him." I try to sound casual.

"Dr. Nicholas Hayes… or Haynes, I am not sure. Frazier is her maiden name, and she kept it after her marriage. Marriages, I should say. He´s her third husband."

I grin.

"Incurable romantic, multiple marriages, unusual… she reminds you of your mom, doesn´t she?"

It was impossible not to make the connection. Let us face it, Anastasia´s scatterbrained mother, as fun and loving as she might be, seems to be a little too self-involved, at least when she chose to live across the country when Ana was still barely a teen. No wonder Anastasia looks for a mother figure wherever she finds it. Her instant connection with my own mother is another example. But then, who am I to judge? I tend to lose my objectivity around Anastasia, and anything that involves her. This could be the case with my opinion about her whimsical mother as well.

"Wow. Paraphrasing Dr. Flynn now, Mr. Grey?"

I shrug.

"Years and years of therapy, baby. You pick up a few things here and there…"

"Have you ever heard of him?"

"Who? Allie´s husband?"

"Kate told me once that he is supposed to be one of this country´s leading authorities in trauma surgery. Her dad knows him well. They move in the same circles, as she says."

Should I or should I not tell her now? Yes, I should. It´s a near perfect opportunity.

Here I go…

"Yes, I know Nick, and so does my mother. And yes, he is extremely good at what he does."

"I knew it. As I said – same circles."

Oh, but it´s much more than that, baby!

I clear my throat.

Here I go.

"My mother knows him because of her job. You´re right, he is the top man in his field of expertise. But I know him because he is a Dom," I add smugly, letting the information slip naturally in one breath. I keep my eyes on the road, but I had no doubt that if I glanced at her, I would see her jaw drop.

We drive a couple of blocks in complete silence. She appears to be in shock.

"Anastasia? Are you still with me."

"I don´t think I… Say that again? He is a what?" she finally speaks!

"A dominant." I feel no need to sugarcoat the information.

"Like you."

"Like me."

Minus the fucked up past, the rough start in life shit - I imagine. It is not a requirement. We all have different motivations that led us to the BDSM world, it is not necessarily a coping mechanism to deal with our emotional trauma. Deep inside, we are what we are, and we can´t help it. Nick Hayes is a well-known Dom in the inner circle of the community, but some of his preferences were different than mine. He isn´t a sadist, for instance, but, on the other hand, he is into some other things I won´t get near of, things that are hard limits for me. I would never reveal such details to Ana, of course, it would shock her to the core.

Not that she isn´t in a little bit of shock right now.

"Wow. Are you freaking kidding me, Christian?"

"Nope. I never joke about the lifestyle, Ana."

"A dominant who specializes in emergency medicine. How ironic is that?" She lets out a nervous giggle.

"Convenient, isn´t it? Or at least it would be if his preferences matched mine, but they don´t. He is not a sadist – and that is all I am telling you."

Different kinks, baby. That is all there is to it.

Then she freezes, as another implication hits her.

"Oh my God! Does that mean she is… she is a… Oh crap! But she is so… Wow!"

"Hold on, that I don´t know for sure. I only know about her husband", I add quickly. I hesitate for a brief moment, before revealing a little more. "Actually, I am not even supposed to tell you any of this, but it may come up if you meet her again, since she probably knows about me too. I just don´t want you to be caught unawares."

I don´t want you panicking when you hear what she might say about me…

I don´t want you running again, Anastasia!

Though I have never seen any of them staging a scene, it´s almost certain they´ve seen me in action at least once… In my early days as a Dom, when I didn´t care about anything but the release that came with the domination and the spanking of brown haired women.

They saw me…

They saw what I can do with a cat o´nine tails… They saw me with the whip and the cane. They knew about the wicked ways I had to keep the sub from avoiding the pain I inflicted upon them…

The depths of my depravity I would never let Ana see… Things I would never do to her even if she begged…

They saw me…

They knew…

Let others watch, I didn´t care in those days, when I didn´t have much to lose. That changed over the years, of course, and by the time I met Ana, I was no longer that careless.

"No, no! That´s a good thing you are telling me. She did look like she was trying to warn you – or me - didn´t she?"

My clever girl!

She covers my hand and gives it a light squeeze.

"Thank you for trusting me with this. I did notice there was some strange vibe going on back there, and yes, I was going to ask you about it. But don´t worry, before you say anything, I wouldn´t dream of telling it to anyone else. She is an amazing woman, and nothing she does in her private life should concern me or anyone else."

We´ll see. That might be easier said that done, sweetheart!

"Her secret is safe with me – just as yours is."

"I know." I just breathe for a moment.

But there are things she could tell you, Ana…

Fuck!

How am I supposed to go around that one?

"Just promise me one thing."

"Yes?"

I have to be truthful about this. Hard lesson learned, by now I know it´s the only way.

"Whatever she tells you… about me… If she tells you anything."

"Yes?" her brow is wrinkled – never a good sign.

"Just talk to me first before freaking out. Will you do that? Please?"

"That bad, mmm?"

Oh shit!

I choose not to answer her this time. Definitely not the best moment. I am driving, for fuck´s sake!

"Remember early on when you asked if I ever hurt one of the fifteen?"

Yes. Feed Miss Steele´s need for information with something else. Diversionary tactics…

"Yes, I remember. You said it happened once. With the ropes."

"Nick Hayes was the doctor I called. In fact, I wouldn´t have trusted anyone else with something like that."

"Wow. Small world!" She thinks for a moment. "But she is an honest to goodness feminist! You saw her, you saw the way she dresses, the way she…"

"That has nothing to do with it," I say.

I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from telling her more. I probably will eventually – not now, since I am already looking for a good parking spot near Clayton´s.

"Mmmm…"

"Ana?" I inquire gently.

"There is still so much about you I don´t know."

I shake my head.

My fucking complicated world, baby, you know that already.

"Well, there is a lot about me I don´t know myself, so we´re even."

I don´t know who my father is… He could be an honorable man, or a sadistic serial killer… I don´t know where I came from, my heritage… I am not even sure of my real name…

I don´t know if one day the monster that lurks inside me will scare Ana away again…

I don´t know…

She grunts a little, as if she is mumbling something to herself. Is she wondering about the same things, I wonder?

"What is it?"

"Your comment about my mom made me think of yours."

Fuck! No Ana, please don´t go there... Just don´t!

I tense. I grab the wheel with both of my hands, until my knuckles are white. I wanted to tell her not to… but then I promised, no secrets. In times like this, it wasn´t so fucking easy!

I can´t handle it right now.

There is a limit to what a man like me can take in one day. And I might be about to reach it.

"My mother?" My voice came out hoarse. I glance at her, but she is looking ahead, oblivious of my discomfort. She faces me them, her eyes clear, her face transparent. Then I know I have nothing to fear, even if…

"I was just wondering – among other things - if your mother wasn´t a little frustrated because you didn´t choose to go to Medical School? My mom wouldn´t care if I decided to become a circus performer, she never interfered with my choices in any way, but I know how parents can be sometimes."

Oh. That mother. Grace.

I smirk.

"No, she knew early on I didn´t have what it takes to be a medical doctor. I lacked any vocation for that. So, she was never frustrated – not because of me. Not as much as my father was frustrated because I dropped out from Harvard."

I leave it at that. Let me just say that Harvard is still a sore spot between my father and I and, as successful as I am, the subject still comes up from time to time.

I park the car in front of the hardware store, but neither of us make a move.

"Brooding again, Anastasia?" She has that frown upon her face again, it worries me.

"Nothing. I´m good - just having a little philosophical moment here. An epiphany, if you will. I need a moment."

"Deep thoughts, Miss Steele?"

"I'll say."

"Go on," I encouraged her.

"Have you ever played that six degrees of separation game?"

"That Kevin Bacon thing? No, I can´t say that I have."

"I was only one degree of separation away from you all this time… Ever since my first year in college. They say fate moves in mysterious ways. I'm thinking we would have met anyway, even if Kate had been well enough to interview you that day."

Probably. The question is, had I met Ana one or two years ago, would I be able to really see her beyond the natural submissive I wrongly assumed she was? Undoubtedly the strong physical attraction would be there, but would I know what to do with it, to reach for what was beyond it? Would I be ready to be defied, to be challenged in every other moment I was with her? Would I end up trusting and loving her enough to let her touch me?

Or would I barely look at her and move on? Would I offer her that fucking contract and let her go for good the first time she hesitated? Or simply meeting her would do the trick, she would be able to change me as she had regardless of how ready I was?

I don´t know too many unanswered questions that would remain unanswered. Another puzzle for Flynn to help me solve one of these days, although the answers hardly matter right now. The point is that, looking back, I don´t think I was ever quite ready for her at all, that I would never be completely ready for the storm in my life that was Anastasia Steele, and that is one of the reasons why she had such a major impact. Rationally, I would never be ready. She is the one who started it all. I never did the whole intimacy thing before Ana, my relationships were contractual and strictly physical. Anastasia triggered instincts in me I never knew I possessed – at least instincts that I didn´t want to possess, or even acknowledge. Yes, I was protective of my former subs, but it was more a matter of fulfilling a sexual contract than a need I felt deep in my heart. The fact that I need to protect and care for her, that I need to touch and kiss and whisper sweet nothings to her without necessarily leading us ultimately to sex or, considering my preferences in a recent past, to a session in my playroom where I would spank the living shit out of her. It was, and still is, disconcerting to me. I´m still adjusting.

Our timing was beautiful, it was perfect – it was one of the things I always knew about us. That is what matters.

"That's an intriguing idea," I say finally, keeping those thoughts to myself for the moment. "Yes, I think we would have met eventually, regardless of that interview. But not through your thesis advisor. I would have seen you at that graduation, remember?"

"That's right. Would you even look twice at me? I doubt it."

I place my hand on her knee, and she squirms a little, reacting to the slightest of my touches, as she always did.

"Something tells me I would.

Had I not met her I would still be a dominant search for his next submissive. A feisty brunette like Ana wouldn´t have escaped my eye… Yes, I would be drawn to her, like moth to a flame. I am sure I would.

"But I would have to steal you from the photographer, but I know you'd end up exactly where you are right now."

"You wouldn't have to steal me from anyone, Christian." She placed her hand on top of mine and holds it firmly. "There is no way I would have let José go too far that night at the bar. Drunk or not, I was ready to kick his balls when you showed up."

Good girl.

"Ana…" I just didn´t want to start a discussion about that topic right now. "I think we should go now before they close."

A trip down memory lane…

It feels that way, it is almost like coming back in time. The sights, sounds smells, colors of a cluttered suburban hardware store. One of the last places on earth I would expect to find a romantic English lit major like Anastasia Rose Steele working to pay her college bills. A bookstore, or a coffee shop perhaps, but not in such unlikely surroundings - male oriented, when she is such a feminine creature.

Part of me nearly expects to see her by the register, all hair and eyes, wearing old blue jeans and nibbling on a bagel. There is another girl there today, probably another college undergrad - a frisky redhead this time, a teenage version of little orphan Annie. I blink against the vision, trying to readjust my thoughts.

"Oh hi," Ana greets her.

But grownup orphan Annie had already set her eyes on me, ignoring Anastasia completely. Her jaw drops.

Here we go.

"Oh Gosh," she gasps, as she gives me a through look, from head to foot and then back, landing on my crotch.

For fuck´s sake! Not today, I´m too tired for this.

"This never gets old," Ana snickers next to me. I glance sideways at her – sometimes I think she doesn´t have one single jealous bone in her body. She always reacts to women wanting to throw themselves at me with humor. The one exception was the incident with Leila in her apartment, but then her jealousy, if indeed existed, was clouded by her fear.

Or, perhaps I have never given her any reason to be seriously jealous before.

Keep up the good work, Grey!

I act quickly - I fire the redhead one mean scowl, probably the best in my repertoire, and her face goes from bright red to deadly pale in a matter of seconds.

"Can I help you?" the girl asks, trying her best to appear more composed.

"Yes, please" I reply with icy coldness. "We´re looking for the rope section."

"That would be in aisle four, to the right. Do you want me to…"

"No, thank you, we´ll manage," I interrupt her curtly.

"OK then. Let me know if you need any help."

Ana thanks her, as we move along.

"Lead the way, Miss Steele."

"Turn off that evil look right now, Master Grey. You almost reduced the poor girl to tears glowering like that," she says, as we move between the over packed shelves.

"Amused, are you?"

"Yes, I am! Deeply amused, sir."

"Ana Steele? Is that you?" Another voice intrudes.

And there he appears in all his All-American next-door neighbor glory. The very soul of inconvenience.

Paul Clayton in person.

I think I actually groan.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Christian - behave," she pleads, in a hushed tone. "Remember, this was your idea."

She does have a point!

"Yes, it is really you, I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Gosh, I missed you!"

I cross my arms and increase the potency of my scowl, while Paul Clayton practically grabs Ana and pulls her to him, enveloping her in a bear hug, taking her by surprise. Obviously. The bastard has no concept of personal space.

Highly unpleasant.

My palms are not twitching, they are fucking numb.

God, I hate huggers!

If he even tries to kiss her anywhere, he is a dead man. He doesn´t, which means he gets to live another day. At least a few more hours. No, make that minutes.

I´m fuming!

"You look great!" He is running his paws up and down her arms now. I roll my eyes. "How have you been?"

"Good! I´m in Seattle now."

I clear my throat. Ana steals a nervous glance at me.

"Oh, this is my boyfriend, Christian. You´ve met him before, when I worked here, remember?"

The dominant glare is still on, and it has the same effect on Paul Clayton it had on little orphan Annie. He is only a little more capable of hiding it. Naah, not so much. He takes a step back, from Ana. And from me.

"Ah. Mr. Grey. Yes, of course I remember. Christian Grey."

We shake hands, and I place a possessive arm around Ana´s shoulder, bringing her closer to me again, her back to my chest. All of my caveman´s instincts kick in at once.

Mine.

Palms are still twitching. Next to me, Anastasia still looks like she is enjoying herself.

It´s fucking infuriating.

"Oh. Are you too… like… together together now?" the boy asks, fingers pointing from me to Ana and back to me.

"Yes, we are." I reply smugly. "Together together." Someone seriously needed to improve on his vocabulary. "Anastasia just moved in with me."

Choke on that one, pretty boy!

"How is José?"

Is this oversized jerk trying to spike me?

"Oh, he is in Los Angeles for some photography thing, I haven´t seen him in a while," Ana informs him.

"Good! I mean… Have you met my girlfriend yet?"

Ah, the plot thickens…

"It´s Jessie, you saw her when you came him. The one with the curly red hair."

So, Mr. All-American Neighbor finally managed to have his claws in one of his employees!

Jackass…

But… is that the attempt of a little smug glance he is shooting in my direction when he mentions the existence of a girlfriend?

Dude, please!

Suddenly, I just wanted to buy their entire stock of ropes and get out of there. My little caprice was turning out not to be a good idea at all.

How about a little more objectivity next time, Grey?

I could be alone with Anastasia at this very moment if only I had taken her suggestion of going upstairs to freshen up. Right now I just wanted to be done with this week´s worst idea quickly.

Ana still does the honor of speaking for both of us.

"Oh yes. We saw her when he came in. I didn´t know she was your girlfriend, though. She´s cute!"

Yeah, good for him, although he doesn´t look like he is head over hills in love with little orphan Annie. Not considering the way he is alternating between ogling Anastasia and peeking nervously at me.

I take another deep breath.

Truthfully, I have to recognize I might be a little unfair with Paul Clayton. He does his job well, and, apparently, he likes what he does. He knows his stuff. As a matter of fact, he is probably the epitome of the perfect boyfriend, then husband, that Anastasia´s parents may still have in mind for her. The one she should one day settle for in a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and 2.5 children. Tall and handsome, without any of that dark shit, reliable, hard working. As a student of Business Administration, he might have a nice career ahead of him. Yes, even I have to admit he has some redeeming qualities.

He is also mentally stable. Or, at least, he appears to be, in spite of his annoying touchy-feely ways.

Normal.

The idea makes me cringe. He probably does not have a red room of pain in the back of the hardware store where he whips brown haired girls.

I look down at Anastasia. She is leaning into me, leaning away from him, making no attempt to pull her hand from mine.

It´s soothing!

So much that I make no attempt to join their conversation, her little catching up session with the fucker, who asks question after question about mutual college friends, most of which I´ve never heard about. While the golden boy practically eats her with his eyes, there is not the slightest glimmer of physical attraction from her part. Her body language couldn´t be clearer on that, she shifts closer and closer to me. The same happened with her photographer friend, the one who would keep trying to stick his tongue down her throat, even though she was saying no repeatedly - no, I don´t think I would never forgive him for that.

"I bet you wish for that flogger now, Mr. Grey." she murmurs in my ear.

"Ana…"

We finally start following the twit - I am running out of nasty adjectives to call him - I mean, Paul Clayton to the rope aisle. It´s a labyrinth inside that store, I vaguely wonder if they have some kind of logical system to organize their merchandise. Clearly, they don´t.

"Ana´s guide for beginners, chapter 3. No self-respecting Dom should leave home without his favorite spanking devices. Or chapter 4: S&M on the road - Because sometimes it´s not so easy to improvise."

My lips twitch, I barely repress a bubble of laughter. Only Anastasia can do that to me. That sense of humor of hers will be the death of me. Still, my protective instincts kick in immediately and I remain quiet – one never knew who might be overhearing us. But I could not resist the temptation of provoking her just a little bit.

"Oh really? Not so easy? You´d be amazed how fucking creative I can be when I am challenged."

"Yes, I am fully aware of how fucking creative you are when you´re fucking, Mr. Grey."

The incorrigible Miss Steele…

"Behave." I warn, lightly pat her behind.

I look around us. The Clayton boy is way ahead, already turning around a corner and following a different aisle right now. Good. Yielding to temptation once more I give a light pinch to the softest, roundest part of Ana´s anatomy. One of my favorite parts, as a matter of fact.

"Hey!" She jumps and turns around to look back at me, exasperated, her blue eyes shooting daggers.

Ooops!

I didn´t hurt her, did I? It wasn´t my intent, I just wanted to pester her a little bit. Because I love that smart mouth of hers in each and every possible way.

Shit!

My heart drops, I hold my breath. Too far, too much, maybe? And in public again?

"You too, sir – behave!" But then, there it is again, her eyes glinting with mischief. "If I let you spank me properly later, will you control yourself?"

Oh Anastasia!

I love it when she does that, for so many reasons other than the obvious one. It means that she is comfortable with me, with what I am, relaxed enough to play with it, to tease me and let me tease her in return.

Two can play the same game, Miss Steele…

You wait and see.

"It depends on how hard you´ll let me do it," I fire back.

The intensity in her eyes mirrors mine. It´s a miracle we don´t burn down to ashes right there, in the middle of the rope aisle in a Portland hardware store, with Paul Clayton only a few yards away. The golden boy is the only thing that kept me from grabbing Anastasia and kissing her to oblivion, then turning her over her knee and giving her the proper spanking her eyes are begging for.

Creatively.

"Hard, Mr. Grey. Always," she answers breathlessly.

"Do you see what you want?" the Clayton boy asks from somewhere nearby.

Oh, there they are. I finally deviate my eyes from Anastasia to look at the packed shelves around us.

"Yes."

I most definitely do, I think, taking a moment to stare at Ana´s perky breasts.

"Christian!?"

Oh yes.

The ropes.

Now leave us alone to make our choice.

And I´m back in business.

I need Ana for this, that is why I wanted her to tag along. She needs to feel the rope, to sense the effect it would have in her skin. It would help to take most of her fears away. But not only that.

Anticipation – that is the name of the game… A game I happen to be very good at, if not the best.

"Here, touch it." I pull the end of one of the natural fiber items and place it in her hand. "Feel it. Tell me what you think."

"Is this the one?" she asks me, frowning.

"Yes. Traditionally it´s what is used. Just feel it, Ana."

"Mmm… I read about those, but I don´t know…"

"Too coarse? I don´t want to risk chaffing your…"

"… sails. I know," she interrupts me, and only them I notice that Paul Clayton is closer, listening to our exchange with a perplexed look in his face.

Nice save, Ana. But…

Isn´t there anything else around the store that he can do? Make out with his girlfriend, for instance…

I am usually not that careless. Maybe I´ve been taking this hide in plain sight crap too seriously.

I ignore the silent presence of the Mr. America contestant standing behind us.

"And this… You know this, it´s the one I used before, remember?" I say, reaching for the red synthetic rope.

Oh, the memories…

"Yes, I remember. Thomas Tallis. That was a very nice touch, by the way, considering that it was I who sold it to you… And I do like the color."

Her voice was husky, and to the more careful observer, there was no way we were still talking about sailboats. I had to end that quickly before we completely betrayed ourselves.

"You know what? We don´t have to decide right now, I´ll just take them both, I´m sure I´ll find other uses for it." Then I turn to the Clayton boy. "We´ll take fifty yards of each, please."

"Wow. That is one hundred yards of rope, I´ll have to check if we have it in stock."

"Whatever you have, I´ll take it all," I say impatiently."

"Everything?"

"Everything." I hand him a card. "You can have it delivered to this address tomorrow."

"But it will cost you…" I raise an eyebrow at him.

Dude, do you really think your price will be a problem to me?

"Oh, never mind, Mr. Frey. Sure, we can Deliver it to you." He frowns, obviously intrigued. "Why do you need so much rope for?"

None of your fucking business, I wanted to yell. Instead, I just glare at him, unblinking.

"Shibari."

Ana is quick to disguise her gasp with a feigned cough. I wink at her.

Hide in plain sight, baby.

I think I might be getting the hang of it. It serves him right, for ogling my girlfriend during his working hours.

"Shi… what?" The prick´s two brain cells are obviously unable to make a connection between that any other word he knows from his limited vocabulary. "What is that?"

Google it, dickhead.

"Bondage." I reply flatly.

"Christian!" she turns to the Clayton boy. Seriously, by now I am just beginning to feel sorry for him. "It´s the name of… of one of… Christian´s boats. Not Bondage, of course. The Shibari. Named after a… a…" I raise an eyebrow at her. "Japanese… flower...?"

Impressive!

This was fun. Finally!

After one of the most stressful days in my life in business, this was what I needed. I´m biting my lips to keep myself from laughing out loud. I could stop her, but I won´t. This is too much fun. I stare at my own shoes, because if I as much as glance at her, I will crack up.

"Christian is… you know. Roping m… I mean her… the boat. You know, for the sails. Of the boat…"

I´ll have material to tease her merciless for the rest of her life with this. My stomach is starting to hurt from the suppressed laughter. I don´t know wish face is redder, hers or Paul Clayton´s. The look in his face is priceless. He doesn´t get the reason for her embarrassment or for my mirth. He doesn´t get it at all. Oh, the beauty of hiding in plain sight. It works!

"The boat. Not me, of course, that would be… kind of… Oh crap! How is Mr. Clayton, Paul?"

When we go back to the car, it takes me a few minutes to stop laughing before I could drive us safely, while Ana glares furiously at me.

"Oh, I wish that I could tie you up and spank your perfectly sculpted ass right now, Christian Grey!"

I laugh harder.

You´re welcome to try that one, Miss Steele…

I´m still laughing half an hour later when we sit down to have our dinner.