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"I'm waiting, Miss Steele" I look up and when I do, I immediately wish I hadn't. His gaze is dark, smouldering and they are burning me from the inside out.
The past five days flashed through my mind. I hadn't seen Christian Grey since I started, and to be honest, I was really excited to see him again. The last time we had met, I had got completely rat-arsed and I had woken up in his bed - alone. Although Kate is dating his brother, apart from the occasional affirmation from both of them that we'd make a great couple, we don't talk about it.
On Monday, Andrea showed me to my little den, her obvious distaste for the dusty chaos ill-concealed when she brushed against a box of 1920s Charles Dickens reprints, ironically with their dust covers intact. I admit that I stifled a giggle. It's so funny when the perfect people look perfectly ridiculous. After she had left, Barney Walsh, GEH Head of IT security, arrived with a swipe card, a laptop and coffee and doughnuts. I didn't have the heart to tell him I drank tea, but we laughed and chatted. He was a WSU alumnus as well although he graduated five years ago. We couldn't be more dissimilar in our academic endeavours, but on another level, I felt we clicked; first-time buddies reunited.
I snap back into reality, and try to keep my voice level.
"Mr Grey, this is my own personal laptop. I have not used it during working time. I haven't even plugged it into the outlet, and used GEH electricity." I don't want to sound snippy, but it's not working. If I'm getting fired, I'll go quietly, but not meekly.
"Did you read the contract, Miss Steele?"
The work contract? That 20 page tome of standard employment law shit? I glanced over it sure, but did I really read it? If I had known that I'd be sitting a test on it, perhaps I wouldn't have been quite so cavalier in my attitude. A test I can ace.
I mentally flick through the document in my head, trying to remember salient points, that might be pertinent to this conversation. "Yes, Mr Grey. Any equipment used by GEH employees are business tools and staff members who use them for their own personal use are giving up their right to privacy." I frown, feeling I'm repeating myself. "But I was not using a GEH laptop!"
He pushes a buzzer, and, without waiting for an answer, snaps into the speaker, "Andrea, please bring me in Miss Steele's signed contract."
Crap. What makes me think I can negotiate with The. Christian. Grey? Andrea walks in, and doesn't make eye contact with me, but to be fair, she doesn't appear to be gloating either. Perfectly professional, as always.
He slides the contract across the table. I don't lift it, but he leans forward.
"Page 11, Miss Steele. What about WiFi?"
"I don't use WiFi in work. I didn't…"
He interrupts me. "YOU might not have meant to use WiFi. However, your computer has an open network connection. Any one with a modicum of IT savvy in GEH could have accessed your files." Fuck, I don't know if he's telling the truth, but it sounds plausible. "Please open your contract to page 12." I pick it up and flick to the page. This is torture. If there's one thing I will learn from my five days of working in GEH, I will never ever skim through an employment contract again.
"Page 12, Miss Steele. Read please."
"Any employee choosing to use his or her own personal electronic equipment within GEH must declare their intentions to Security."
"Are you always so careless about reading contracts, Miss Steele?"
Well, there's no answer that isn't going to be a lie. He leans forward, clasps his hands, and presses his fingers to his lips. Those lips. Fuck. Great. I'm getting fired and now I'm getting hot.
"So, Miss Steele, you do realise that this work can now be considered my intellectual property?" My stomach does somersaults. He doesn't want to own this. He cannot read this. My synapses ping to life; relay races through the contents of my stories.
"Read to me, Miss Steele."
I swallow nervously and the words swim in front of my face. I shake my head, and attempt to vocalise my refusal, but nothing comes out.
"Really?" He flicks the back of my laptop with his finger. "You write these words and now cannot SAY them aloud?"
"Please, Mr Grey…" I manage to croak. "Don't make me do this."
"You know that I own this company Miss Steele?" When I don't say a word, he stands up, and walks behind me. "That was not a rhetorical statement, when I ask a question, I expect an answer."
I feel my scalp prickle, and he is so close to me I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. "Do you want to keep your internship here at GEH?" Of course I do. I have been given an amazing opportunity to work in a field related to my degree, and I'm going to learn so much about data management and cataloguing. And I get to see my imaginary Master, although at the minute I hate him. I hate him for being right.
"Yes, Mr Grey, I do."
"Then as your employer, I order you to read your work. I have all the time in the world, and read slowly. You need to savour your words. I am very interested in your writing style."
I take a deep breath, and focus. I can do this. For today, they are just words, not my desires.
'The following morning I wake up, and fumble for my phone, to check the time. It's not on my nightstand, and suddenly I realise, there isn't a nightstand. I sit up suddenly and immediately realise it was a huge mistake. I am naked save for my collar, and Master Grey is sitting on the couch in front of me...'
I jump when he interrupts me. "I see Miss Steele. Is this your interpretation of what happened that night?"
I peek up at him. "It is fiction Mr Grey. I was just letting my imagination run away with me."
He circles the table, and I clear my throat, pausing as he stands behind me. I am sure he can see what is on the screen, and it only adds to my blushes.
"Did I give you permission to stop?"
"No."
"No, what?" I shiver as I feel his cool finger trace lightly over my nape.
"No, Mr Grey."
" Well, Miss Steele, continue."
Master Grey comes up to me in the bed, and sits down on the edge. 'Anastasia, you got very drunk last night.'
'Yes Master.'
He holds out a copy of our D/s contract to me, with the offences underlined in green marker. 'The submissive shall not drink to excess, nor put her life or body in danger.'
"Do you think you did were responsible last night, Anastasia?" He plays idly with my collar.
"Master, I am sorry that I drank to excess, I was only celebrating the end of my exams, and I didn't mean to be so careless."
"Is there anything else, Anastasia?" The question is punctuated by a gentle tug on my collar.
"No Master."
"What about that boy Jose? I saw him with his arm on you." I feel more than a little nervous now. Master Grey had given me permission to go out with my friends, but I had not expected him to be observing me. Master knows I am his.
I frown. His arm on me? I had twisted out of his grasp, but I didn't think that Jose had any intentions to hurt me.
"Master , I…"
Master Grey cuts me off . "Yes, you wriggled out of his grasp, I saw that. However, if you had not been so irresponsible and drunk, he would not have seen fit to touch what is mine."
"I have been lenient with you Anastasia. I have tolerated some of your bratty behaviours whist you test my boundaries, but I will not tolerate you putting yourself in danger. People are going to know what is mine."
I know now I'm going to be punished for my indiscretions last night. Master goes to the table and returns me a black suede covered box. I go to open it, nervous of its contents. There are two wide silver bangles that match my collar, and two silver anklets.
"Assume the position, Anastasia." I stand up, legs apart, and my hands linked behind my head. I feel the cool metal against my hyper-sensitised skin, and hear the click of a lock, four times over. He dangles the key in front of me. "If a discreet necklace does not mark you as my property, then perhaps this will." He stands back and appraises his work.
"Now, Anastasia, kneel. I hear the rattle of a chain and feel it being threaded through the metal rings that now surround my limbs. He moves my hands from behind my head to behind my back, and I feel the chain pulling my wrists and ankles together. I am hogtied. He lifts the green sharpie marker, and with a theatrical flourish, signs his name across my breasts. With surprising gentleness he lifts my body and faces me towards the window. He opens the latch, causing the voile curtains to billow away from the glass, my nudity partially available to anyone who might happen to chance to look up. The tears of shame are now flowing freely, but he brushes them away softly with his thumb.
"You will keep this position now for seventeen minutes Anastasia. Do you know why?" I nod. I can work it out in my head.
"It was seventeen minutes from I first made the drunken phone call until you came for me, Master."
"Seventeen minutes Anastasia. You could have been mugged, assaulted, or raped. You are my property and you will be kept safe." He gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead, and I hear him move back to the sofa and to his papers...
I start to tremble, my nerves getting the better of me. "Please Mr Grey, please don't make me read any more.
His face eases somewhat, before darkening again. Whatever corporal chastisement I have written about in the past does not compare to the heart pounding excitement I am currently feeling under his stern gaze. I am going to be dismissed from the best internship imaginable, and all I can think about is getting home to savour this moment.
"We shall have dinner this weekend, and you can tell me a little more about your… creative writing exploits then." Dinner? After making me want to curl up and die, he wants dinner?
He slides a brown envelope over the table to me. "This is an NDA. This time, you will read it carefully, you will decide if you understand the content, and you will come to me if you have any questions. If you agree, to the expectations within this contract, I shall meet you outside your building on Friday evening. If you do not, you shall come to work on Monday morning, without your Personal Electronic Equipment and you shall keep your literary endeavours to your laptop at home."
He hands me a black unremarkable-looking memory stick. "This is called a 'safestick' and they are encrypted, as well as being password protected. Unless you want to have your name, and mine, splashed over every seedy tabloid in the city, I suggest you give your work the protection it deserves."
He closes over the laptop and hands it to me. "You may return to your office now, Miss Steele."
I all but run back to the office, and trip over the saddleboard of the door. The NDA skitters from its envelope and, gathering the papers, I put them back into order, and sit there, shaking with anticipation as I read them. I want to say it's a standard Non Disclosure Agreement, but with Christian Grey, nothing is standard. I cannot believe that he let me off the hook - sort of. At least I still have a job. I have embarrassed myself, but perhaps there will be some redemption on Saturday night, when I can prove I'm more than just a uni student, playing in the adult world.
Barney comes in, followed by a cursory knock on the door. "Hey Ana! What are you doing on the floor?" He offers his hand and pulls me up. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" He eyes the brown envelope. "Oh, hey! your first NDA!" He laughs at his pentameter. "I suppose I do have a bit of the poet in me after all!"
I manage a squeak. "You know about these?!" What has Barney been doing with Christian Grey? The mind boggles. I recall the interview, and Christian's reaction to being asked if he was gay.
Barney looks at me as if I've lost the plot. "It's an NDA Ana, and they are common in the business world, but Christian Grey just takes his a little more seriously than most."
My face must have shown my confusion. "You've done this before?"
"For Christian, sure. But he gave me my first job out of college. He wasn't interested in pretty packaging of sharp suits and Italian shoes. He just wanted someone who could do the job."
I laugh at that. "But all the perfect blondes?" He chuckles at my question.
"Yeah, they are all a bit, well, blonde? Blame Andrea for that. When she started, she was so hyper efficient, anyone who came after her wanted to bask in her glory. So, they all come in looking like that. It also adds to the ruthless efficiency of the GEH façade."
"So, he keeps the troglodyes like us down in the basement?"
Barney frowns. "We aren't troglodytes, and you should never sell yourself short Ana. You are much too interesting and genuine a person to allow others to define you by something so superficial as a designer dress. We are the lucky ones, able to get on with our work, lurk in the background, and not be bothered by all the other window-dressing crap that goes on." Barney pauses for a beat. "And you know he is one of us." Us? Closet submissives? Barney is great and all, but for one split second it occurs to me that he could have read my stories.
He looks at me like I'm on glue "What do you think I meant? He's one of us. Us - the 'troglodytes'. He might dress in Boss suits, but his crazy hair gives him away every time." Barney points to his own lively bonce. "Trust me, if Christian Grey thought he could get away with it, he'd be working away in some dark dungeon, putting a sweet little ingenue like you through her paces, teaching her to be a daywalker like him, but under the surface, kablooey!" He fists his hands, then suddenly spreads his fingers, punctuating his expression.
It's Saturday night, and I pinch Kate's plum dress. It's sexy in that if-you-got-it-you-don't-have-to-flaunt it kind of way. It's to the knee, so I don't have to worry about my stocking tops peeking out, but the deep v in the back whispers of promises.
I look out the window and see Buzz Cut is at the door. The procurer of women for the great NDA-Christian Grey. I give him a small smile, and thank him for coming to collect me. Taciturn Taylor gives the briefest wisp of an acknowledgement. I idly wonder if Christian has a clause in Taylor's NDA requiring monthly botox to make sure he doesn't smile.
"Where are we going, Mr Taylor?" I try and make conversation.
"Just Taylor ma'am. Mr Grey has given me explicit instructions of where to bring you."
"Can I not give you explicit instructions to tell me?" The silence makes me realise that Taylor does not succumb to chit-chat or playful teasing.
"I do not work for you, I work for Mr Grey, and I will fulfil my duties for him to the extent that the law requires."
Oh what fun. I bet he's a hoot and a half to be around. He was probably a normal guy, once upon a time. Actually, no, scrap that. This guy is like my own dad on steroids. Ex military, taciturn, regimented.
We arrive in the underground garage of a downtown building, and Taylor opens the door for me. Silently I'm grateful. I don't exit cars so much as clamber out of them, and trust me, no one's is interested in my money shot. I do a double take when I see the four rings logo on the front of the car. Are you kidding me? Not only does my imaginary Master exist in the form of Christian Grey, he also drives my imaginary car, an Audi. If it turns out that Christian Grey really is a Master in real life, I may just wet myself.
We walk a few paces to the elevator, and Taylor punches in a code. We glide up effortlessly and I watch the number of each floor light up and fade away, until we stop at P. Penthouse. I am about to go into Christian Grey's penthouse, and my mouth goes dry. The door opens, and there he is, the Alleged King of the Troglodytes, wearing a Marc Jacobs suit.
"Thank you Taylor, that will be all." Buzz cut nods and leaves. I call out my thanks as well, and he formally wishes me a good evening.
"How nice to see you again Miss Steele." His voice is husky, rumbling, stirring something within me. I silently curse myself for making so much of an effort. As I'm still Miss Steele, this is obviously not a date.
He offers me a glass of mineral water. I'd have loved a glass of wine, but he's probably thinking that I can't hold my alcohol and doesn't want me ruining his perfect white carpet. That thing would not last five minutes in my apartment, with my messy tendencies.
"Have you signed the NDA, Miss Steele?"
Great. All business. "Yes, Mr Grey, I have." Without being prompted I manage "It was a very thorough document, but I have no questions or clarifications." Basically the NDA meant that I could not talk about anything outside GEH other than my cataloguing work.
He takes the envelope and scans over the contents, checking for my signature and date. "Fine. Mrs Jones has prepared dinner. Now, let me show you my room, and we can play tonight. If we enjoy each other's company, we can consider a contract." Finally he smiles and uses my name. "Anastasia, bearing in mind how you have written about your experiences, I believe that you and I will make a great connection. You are a woman who obviously knows what she likes and expects from her Dominant."
Obviously. Wait. What? "Christian, Mr Grey… I…"
His smile fades a little "What's the matter?"
"Uhm, I've never played before." I lower my voice to a whisper, "I'm a virgin."
He runs his hands through his hair, "A virgin at playing?" He studies me for a second and his face falls. "Fuck. You are a virgin virgin, aren't you?"
"Fuck, Anastasia! I have just told you I'm a Dominant! I almost showed you my playroom!" Now the NDA makes more sense to me, and I whisper an apology. He runs his hands through his hair, giving it a crazed height. "A virgin?! At your age?"
I am appalled at his action. "Yeah, well, Mister Grey," I enunciate each word, "Not all of us have been fucking since we were teenagers!" His face looks like thunder. "My sexual history is none of your business, Anastasia!"
Fuck indeed. Or, rather, I think sardonically, no fuck.
Thanks for reading, y'all
