Chapter 10 – Incineration

CHRISTIAN

Whether or not I got a single wink of sleep last night after arriving in my suite at The Heathman, I couldn't say. And if I did catch a brief moment of shut-eye, it sure as hell didn't feel like it. For the past eight hours, my brain hasn't shut off.

My mood has run the gamut from pissed, to irritated, to downright confused. On top of essentially grinding my teeth down to sand while recalling the mindless display that Miss Steele put on before the entire club, I received yet one more shock to my system in the form of a startling confession.

A virgin?

I replay the befuddling revelation over and over again, and still – it does not compute.

But the way that her sexy hips wave to the rhythm…
The way she rides the beat on my lap…

None of this shit can be explained, yet I need an explanation. It's beyond difficult to comprehend that such a gorgeous, irresistible girl has never, ever been touched by a man before.

And then realization hits.

Oh shit – I've already made her come so many times…usually after she's danced for me.

She's had an orgasm before – surely. Oh, words can't adequately describe how heavenly she looks when she climaxes. It's something that I wouldn't mind seeing her do over and over again. So far, I've only touched her with my hands. There's so much more to explore with this beautiful girl. She has so much further to go in order to reach the level that I'd hoped to get her to by the time she graduates college. Now, it appears that my hope of grooming her as such has gone down the drain.

Even if she does take up my offer to dance for me on Friday in my hotel suite, that's all that it could ever be. I wouldn't dare touch her knowing what I now know.

She's as pure as the driven snow.

You don't know how many times I've wished – hoped, even – for Miss Steele's plea of virginity to be pure fable. However, reality tells me that one wouldn't lie about such things.

Fuck. I can't shake this girl, no matter how hard I try. It's as if she's traversing my veins. My blood pressure rises whenever I recall her moving that gorgeous body on the stage for all to see to Maneater, yet my veins cool whenever I think about her gaze dropping to the floor after her reveal in the VIP room. There's no doubt that she felt ashamed before me for being unsullied. Just the very thought of her disappointed reaction to my alarm pricks my very core.

How can one girl evoke so much emotion?

I sit in the backseat of my Portland-plated car as Taylor takes me to my brand-new satellite office at SNA Corp. I plan on meeting with Tyler Bergen to talk about innovative strategies that can be merged with some initiatives that my IT guys, Fred and Barney are working on. I also hope to spend time with Brian Gibbs, the current VP of sales to see if he's still on board now that his longtime boss, Neumann is no longer running the show.

Speaking of the thundercunt, I've already taken the liberty to redo his entire office. All of his gaudy Mad Men-styled furniture, gone. Although the space is fairly sizable, it's still about a fourth of the size of my office at Grey House. In spite of this fact, I had the office redesigned to mimic the style of my home office. I chose this route because I had every intent of working from Portland at least twice a week.

Miss Steele ruined that.

After dancing in public, there's no way in hell that she can remain working at Zion. And if she does decide to use that key I left her this coming Friday, it may be the last time I see her. As much as I love to watch her dance, there's no way that I can be all alone with her and not dream of fucking this girl every which way but loose.

Nights on end, I've dreamt of suspending her in my rafters far above me in my playroom after spending hours intricately roping her naked body in Shibari, with her arms laced behind her back.

Fuck, Grey.
What are you thinking?

My sane mind knows that she's a virgin and wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole, yet my cock could give a fuck. Amidst my torturous internal battle, my Blackberry chimes. I retrieve it and view the screen.

Fucking Jay Dark.
What in the hell does he want?

Not in the best of moods, I pick up anyway.

"Grey," I announce tersely.

"Mr. Grey," he says in his usual gruff voice. "Good morning. Jay Dark. I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time." And I idly wonder why the slime ball who runs a twenty-four-hour operation, among many other businesses, is phoning me so damned early.

"I'm on my way to the office. What can I do for you?" I say in a tone that's not necessarily as inviting as the words I speak.

"I am calling to apologize about the commotion last night with my security team. As I understand it, London was able to reel them in due to a minor misunderstanding."

I frown at the phone.
Minor misunderstanding?

I literally put hands on one of his employees and pretty much removed her from the premises against her will. Whether or not I liked it, security was just doing their job. Dark's 'apology' falls on deaf ears

"I truly appreciate your patronage to Zion, and if there's anything that I can do to make up for what happened, please feel free to let me know."

Suddenly a spark of contrivance hits me.

"Well, there is one thing," I say, slowly stroking my clean-shaven chin.

"Anything. You name it," Dark says without hesitation.

"Fire Miss London. Today." I don't even bat an eye when I make the demand.

"Except that," he gruffs just as quickly.

When I perk up just a bit, I'm certain that it's not because of the to-go coffee that I've been drinking. I don't want Miss Steele working at Dark's establishment anymore, yet it appears that Mr. Dark isn't in agreement.

"You don't think that a server masquerading as a dancer disrupting your operation in front of your entire club is grounds for termination?" I utter condescendingly.

"If it were any of my other servers, hell yes," says in his gravelly tone. "But I watched the tape and London danced circles around my best talent. She even has me thinking about a showcase strategy where all of the other talent takes a break while one of the girls is spotlighted on stage. I spent a mint on that stage and finally London puts it to good use."

Why you son of a bitch.

Rage tries its hardest to surge through me and take over, but I struggle to rein it in.

"The deal we made last month required that Miss London danced for me and me alone," I unkindly remind him.

Dark takes a calculated pause and I hear a sizable puff of breath on the other end.

"For the past ten hours, my phone has been ringing non-stop. Longtime clients who have never so much as requested a dance behind closed doors are now demanding London. They are willing to pay double…even triple," he says.

What. The. Fuck.

Suddenly, my chest constricts, and I am ready to pounce like a lion.

"You're a business man," he patronizes like the prick that he is. "You tell me, what would you do if you were in my shoes?"

"What do you want for her?" I say impatiently. "I'm willing to buy her out of her contract so you can terminate her."

I swear I hear the asshole chuckle subtly. Or maybe the overweight fuck is just choking on his own overproduced saliva. "My employees can't be bought," he says staunchly after a beat. "However, if you still want to schedule a dance with London, I highly encourage you to book your time with her early and as far out as possible since I have many requests pouring in for her. She is by far Zion's hottest attraction to date."

Before I can ram a hole through the back window with my clenched fist, I snuff out my raging fire with a cloak of restraint. It's a superpower that I've developed after many years of strategizing before going in for the kill. As a rule of thumb, I never want my enemy to see me sweat.

What I need to do is get this asshole off the line and run interference ASAP.

"I hadn't planned on returning to Zion," I tell him point blank. It's the truth. But what he doesn't know is that I'm taking a certain someone with me, whether he likes it or not.

"Mr. Grey – really, I'm terribly sorry that last night put a damper on your experience at Zion. But as many witnessed yesterday, you had solitary access to a diamond in the rough. London was truly worth every penny you paid. Are you sure you want to miss out on that?"

If Jay Dark were in my presence at this moment, I'd place both my palms on his skull and crush it. He is the fucking scum of the earth.

"Like I said," I hiss through gritted teeth, "I will not be returning. Goodbye, Mr. Dark."

I hang up, beyond tired of his bullshit. I need to get moving before Miss Steele decides to happily stroll into work today under the assumption that that she's serving, even though I'd told her last night that there's absolutely no turning back after what she did. Dark immediately calls me back, but I push his call directly to voicemail. I then activate the program that Barney designed for me that blacklists specific pesky callers, and I add Dark to the list. I normally don't answer calls from phone numbers I don't recognize, so if Dark wants to try calling me from different numbers, he'll be in for a rude awakening.

By the time Taylor pulls up to SNA Corp, I've instructed Welch to put a trace on Miss Steele's phone. I need to keep track of her whereabouts to ensure that she doesn't step one foot in Zion after the foolish stunt that she pulled.

….

Throughout the day, I check the tracer site on my laptop and watch the little red dot as it roams all over WSU Vancouver. By eleven, Taylor is whisking me away to the helipad ten miles away to take a short trip home. There's one meeting at Grey House that I couldn't postpone since my entire management team are finally in one place for a change. Our meeting ends at two and then I set off to meet Elena for a late lunch.

In spite of me not having a bite to eat since six thirty this morning, I'm certain there won't be much eating at this restaurant. I had Andrea set the whole thing up and didn't even bother to talk to Elena or return her calls. She knows good and goddamn well what this meeting is all about. She did what she did in order to get my attention.

Kudos, Elena.
Your plan worked.

But at what cost?

After a very productive meeting back in my Seattle executive conference room, Taylor and I hightail it to Wataru, a sushi place. Elena's already there when I arrive fifteen minutes early. She's sitting at a table that seats two and is looking rather nonchalant. When I'm spotted, she stands to great me.

"Christian," she purrs in that way she always does. She sticks out her chin, expecting me to kiss her on both sides. Instead, I take the seat opposite her without so much as touching her. Elena's taken aback but then quickly composes herself and reclaims her seat.

"After weeks and weeks of trying, we connect…finally," she smirks.

Before I can verbalize my ire for this woman who has claimed to be my friend for many years, our waitress suddenly appears.

"Good afternoon. Would you like something to drink?"

I point to the water glass before me. "This will do," I say coolly. Taking the hint, she leaves us.

"Whoa Christian," Elena practically snorts. "I'd just assumed that she'd be your type since you've fancied those in her profession fairly recently.

"Cut the shit, Elena," I snap.

"Look," she says before taking in a calculated breath. "You're probably wondering how I found your little friend," she says the last work with disdain. "I so happened to reach out to Stefan Neumann, who's not very happy with you these days," she digs.

That motherfucker.
I'll kill him.

"He didn't hesitate to tell me that this London girl, the one who you insisted Madison be called during a scene, is a server at Zion, an exclusive gentlemen's club. My god Christian…you ordered your sub to be called by another girl's name during a scene? Come on," she puffs out in severe disapproval, as if she's just hearing the news for the first time.

Yeah, yeah – I must admit, that wasn't the smartest thing that I've ever come up with. Still, Madison and her mammoth mouth can forget that future community reference. She obviously thinks that Elena Lincoln is excluded from the NDA that she signed with me many months ago.

"Christian, I must say…that club is rather tame. I have no idea why you'd find that place alluring at all. And that London character? Geez. There's not much special about her. She's just a little girl," she scolds.

I lose it.

"What?!" Immediately, I see eyes from all over the restaurant staring at our table. Still, Elena is not phased.

"She's a little girl that has much growing up to do. I'd bet she wouldn't dare let a gingerroot get anywhere near that tight ass of hers."

"Elena…" I say her name in warning.

"She's not for you," she insists. "She's just a struggling waitress. She's only after your money."

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I growl as quietly, yet threatening as I possibly can.

"Don't you have to pay her every time you see her?" she asks.

I say nothing. Instead, I sit there glaring at her.

"Answer me, Christian," she says, unwavering – and it's reminiscent of our dynamic that ended over a half decade ago. But what Elena doesn't understand is that I am not that same kid I was when she first introduced me to this twisted world of relief and escape. At fifteen, I was in search of something, and I found it in her.

But times have surely changed.

"That's exactly what I thought," she says, breaking the silence. "She's using you, Christian. Madison will absolutely take you back. In fact, I spoke with her last night. Why don't you give her a call?"

I'm simmering in my skin.
"Elena…"

"And if you don't want her, we'll find you someone else who's more suitable for your needs."

"Elena, no," I say point blank.

She gasps in shock. "Wait…you still want this girl? The very same girl that will give any man what he wants, only if he convinces her with cash? She's a damn waitress, Christian. She's no dancer."

"She's not a waitress anymore," I seethe. "Not after the stunt you pulled. She's now being forced to dance for the entire club against her will."

"I don't ever recall telling her to do anything against her will. I only told her that she had no business filling up your head with falsehoods."

I have no fucking idea where she gets off thinking that someone's been filling up my head, but I don't even care to entertain the topic any further. I'm just here to put my fucking foot down and demand that Elena leave Miss Steele the hell alone.

"You upset her, so she set out to upset me by dancing in front of the entire club. Now everyone knows how good of a dancer she is," I say with spite.

She gapes in surprise. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really," I snap, fucking unamused by her antics.

"Well, that's that, I guess. So, let's talk about this other prospect for you…" she starts, moving ahead in my stead. I immediately pump the brakes.

"I already have a contract with Anastasia." The statement is true, although I didn't have the opportunity to present it to her before Elena stuck her brand-new nose where it didn't belong.

"Excuse me?" she frowns. "Who is Anastasia?"

"It's London's real name. She and I have a pending weekend agreement."

Again, it's not the whole truth. I won't be fucking this girl after all, but I still plan to have her dance for me this Friday. Elena doesn't need to know the particulars, I just want to her to butt the hell out of my life.

"So, you're fucking her now?" she inquires with wide eyes.

"Not that it's any of your business…."

"Has she even done a scene before?" she interrupts.

"Elena…"

"Okay, okay…I know. It's none of my goddamn business."

"Finally," I sigh. "You get it."

"Is this a vanilla thing that you have going on?"

I sigh, rolling my eyes hard. "Didn't I just say that it's none of your business?"

She sighs right back. "Actually, I said it, but yes…I get it."

"I'm not asking you to agree with my choices…I'm only asking you to stay out of my private life. You're to never…ever to get in contact with Anastasia. Am I making myself clear?"

My command causes her to blink in surprise. She's not used to hearing me speak to her in this way. Elena only has herself to blame for this shitty outcome. If she wants to do shitty things behind my back, I will treat her like shit.

"Do you hear me?" I sound out. "Do you fucking understand me? If you ever talk to her again, you'll regret it."

"Is that a threat, Christian?" she says, astounded by my directness.

"No, Elena," I snap back. "It's a promise."

ANA

I feel like a zombie as I tread towards the next building in between classes. I couldn't tell you a single word that was uttered during the last lecture. My thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

I don't know if I can even face anyone at Zion today. I'm set to work the floor at seven, even though Mr. Grey gave me his room key and told me to quit my job. Well, I'm certain that was before I blurted out that news about me being a virgin while dancing on his lap.

That certainly changed his tune.

The second that moment from last night comes flooding back into my thoughts, I cringe.

Smooth, Steele.
Real smooth.

But reality sets in and tells me that there was no other way to tell him the honest to god truth. His expectations surpassed my experience, so he had to know who he was truly dealing with.

The look he had in his eyes when he was pleading with me to take his offer and meet him at his hotel room in Portland this Friday…it nearly singed the tiny little hairs from my arms. His gaze was incinerating. But the words 'I'm a virgin' poured buckets of water all over him, I'm sure. He didn't have the same demeanor when he left the VIP room. At least the anger he carried in with him injected some semblance of life in him. By the end of the night, his expression was more a mixture of disappointment and confusion. I can't put my figure on exactly which one it was.

I'm just under five hundred meters away from my next building when I hear my phone chirping in my purse. Yes, it's a bird's call. I haven't figured how to change my ringtone. I absolutely hate this phone.

"Hello?"

"Lon…I mean, Ana?"

Shit, it's L-Mo. I immediately clam up. I know that I'm in deep shit for the stunt I pulled last night.

"Uh, yes. It's me."

"It's Lauren from work. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Oh, so she's Lauren today.

"Sh…sure," I stammer. "I mean, no…this is a good time."
Steele, settle down.

I locate a large tree nearby, walk over to it, and lean up against it.

"Let me cut right to the chase," she says in the most unreadable tone. "How soon can you come in to work tonight? We need you to sign new paperwork as well as move your locker across the hall."

I gasp. "Across the hall?"
New paperwork?
She says it as if it's something routine. This sounds anything but.

"Yes…where the talent is, my sweet dove," she croons. And now there appears to be some sign of life in her. She sounds…proud? Her sudden change of tone takes me aback. "We'd also like to get your measurements and set you up with a custom wardrobe. Starting today, you are Zion's premier act. You absolutely killed last night, my dear. In fact, Shaun and team were able to gather up all of your tips from the stage last night. Your bag was quite impressive."

Premier act?
Holy shit.

"Uhhh…" I shake out.

"And we just hired a pole dancing expert to train you on how to be a pole artist starting this Thursday. Pole acrobatics is not BD's expertise, but we'd still like you to work with her on the normal stuff. If she gives you any flack about not getting paid, please send her my way and I'll make sure she's good."

"L-Mo," I breathe, trying my hardest not to shake in anxiety. "Thank you, but I'd rather keep working as a server, if you don't mind."

She chuckles. "Honey, do you know how much cash you'll take home every night as a dancer? You'd be crazy to keep serving. You're much too talented of a dancer for that."

"But last night was a mistake." The words just come rushing out of me like a tide. "I was only supposed to be dancing for Mr. Grey. You told me that I didn't have to dance for anyone else but him."

"And then everyone saw you," she speaks almost with a lioness' purr. "You can't expect to walk the floor anymore and not piss our clients off. They want to see London on that stage. They want her in Private Row – a VP over at Nike, Mr. Jacobs, the mayor…"

Holy fucking shit! The mayor was there yesterday?!

My eyes grow as wide as saucers.

"You're going to have to leave this club right away.
Your foolish public display has propelled you into the spotlight."

Mr. Grey's scolding words from last night return with a vengeance to haunt me. I'm literally shaking in my chucks right now.

"If you're good enough for Christian Grey, you're good enough for everyone else who patronizes Zion. Their cash is just as good as his," Lauren smarts.

"I can't," I tremble. "I'm so sorry. I won't be coming back there."

"Excuse me?" L-Mo says in the most ominous voice.

"I can't dance in public. I'm sorry," I parrot my apology.

"Girl, you'd be walking away from a lot of money," she says in almost a threatening tone. "You wouldn't even be able to earn a fourth of what you make as a server working someplace like Fred Meyer," she utters with disgust. "Without a college degree, they'd be the only ones who'd hire you right now. And didn't you say that you needed the college tuition? Has that now changed?"

But Big Red seems to forget that I made sizable tips over the past month dancing for their top client. If I visit Mr. Grey this Friday at his hotel, he'll cover the remainder of my fall tuition. And if I play my cards right, he might even cover spring.

Yeah, I'd rather take my chances with Grey than with the likes of L-Mo and her creepy ass boyfriend. The creepy ass boyfriend who so happens to be Sasha House's loser dad.

Hell, I didn't even want to be at Zion in the first fucking place, much less become a dancer. Ironically, Mr. Grey didn't want to come there as a patron either but was forced to by Mr. Neumann. And there we were, the only two people in that warehouse who really didn't want to be there. As he gradually came out of his element, Mr. Grey decided to take me out of mine. And it was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

It was then when I discovered my new passion. Christian Grey took a non-dancer and helped me to discover what was within. And that has no price.

L-Mo and Jay Dark can both kiss my lily-white ass.

"I have something in the works, so I'll be fine. I'll have one of the girls to fetch my things out of my locker," I say after locating my inner strength.

I am perfectly fine with walking away from the barracudas and all the mess that comes with pleasing their mostly unseen faces that camp out in their offices and count the loads of money brought in literally by the sweat of countless young women. These assholes don't care how much they bend the girls to do more, as long as their pockets continue to be lined.

I can't help but think about how L-Mo assured me that I wouldn't have to do anything that I didn't want to do, yet this bitch tried to stick me in the VIP room with the creepiest asshole in the club. Starla and Bambi absolutely hate dancing for Neumann. I get the impression just from their reaction to him that many things take place in that VIP room with him that they can't even talk about. The very notion is horrifying.

I'd be dancing for hundreds of Neumanns if I stay.

I shudder at the thought.

"You already have a new job?" she says in surprise. "Where?"

"I can't say," I tell her. Because I can't. And even if I could, I absolutely wouldn't tell her.

"Just remember that you signed a non-compete clause when we hired you," she spouts out cynically.

I only signed a non-compete clause as a server.
And you just tried to get me in today to sign one as a dancer.
I may be young, but I'm not as dumb as you think I am.

It's the first time that I've ever witnessed a semblance of anger in Lauren Moratti. This seems more natural to her persona over the fake smiles that I've caught from her over the one month that I've known her. I immediately picture the true essence of the Wicked Queen from Snow White and wonder if that very image stares back at her as she peels off her makeup in front of the mirror every night.

"I understand that," I say with a raised voice. "But I'm a college student first. I am not a dancer. I don't need the added stress on top of my full course load. It's best that I part ways with Zion."

My words are beyond sincere. I don't need the added stress. But who's to say that taking this opportunity with Christian Grey won't be just as stressful, or even more so? However, as of right now, I only have one day promised with him. He didn't say that he'd continue to pursue anything beyond a Friday night dance.

Yeah, at least I'll have fall classes covered, giving me plenty of time to land another job, or maybe even a scholarship of some sort to cover my final semester next year.

"You do know that Starla and Bambi bring home six figures a year," she practically hisses. Is she for real? Did she literally just tell me what my friends make?! "What entry level job would even dare pay you that coming out of college? If you were smart, you'd go for the bird in the hand."

Is this bitch really suggesting that I drop out of college to dance full time?
She must've fallen off of her boyfriend's rocker.

"No thank you, but I won't be doing that," I say point blank. "By the way, I'm running late for class. I've gotta go. Bye." And just like that, I hang up on the Red Witch of the Northwest.

You just hung up on six figures, Steele.

I immediately cancel out the irritating thought.

….

After yet another sleepless night, reality finally sets in. Tea is absolutely not strong enough to do the job, but I don't really care for coffee. I'm relying on sheer will to get through another school day.

Since hanging up on L-Mo yesterday, I've been avoiding my phone like the plague. The people at Zion have been blowing it up; Becky, Bambi, Starla, Elaine…all of my favorite people have been constantly leaving me messages. Even Betsy called. But the one message that kept me up all last night was the one from Jay Dark. Yes, the man himself managed to call me hours after I told his girlfriend that I quit.

"Miss Steele, this is Jay Dark. It is urgent that you return my call. It would be wise not to let too much time pass by before you do."

That sounded like a sure threat to me. I played the message over and over again, trying to make sure that I wasn't just being paranoid. But the more I listened to it, the more that I was certain that he was threatening me. Being on the bad side of a very powerful man isn't a good look, hence why I was barely able to sleep last night.

And then there's Christian Grey. I now have two more days to decide if I'm going to go through with this dance. I can't get him out of my head. I'm so shocked that I still have his room key on me. Seriously, how realistic is this dancing arrangement? How long can a man with singular desires only be satisfied with a dancing virgin?

He's a self-proclaimed monogamous freak. What happens to me when he finds another complicated girl? A wave of nausea hits me right in the gut. The thought of being discarded…tossed aside by the man of my dreams makes me physically ill.

But at the very least you get your tuition paid, Steele.
All's not lost.

During my first class, my phone buzzes out of control. It's one Zion call after the next. When the third call stops vibrating, I shut the phone off entirely.

The second I turn the phone back on outside hours later, one missed call alert after the next pops ups. I feel nauseated. And just before I can check the voicemail, my phone buzzes again with an incoming call. It's from Zion. Stupidly, I answer it.

"Hello?" I murmur nervously.

"Miss Steele," a gruff voice says. "Finally, I get ahold of you. It's Jay Dark." Well, obviously it's him.

"Sorry, I've been in classes all morning," I say, but my apology isn't sincere in the least.

"Look, you're a star," he says, cutting right to the chase. "I don't want to see you leave my club. I'll give you anything you want if you dance just like you did on Monday night, as well as see to some very important clients in Private Row."

"But that's not what I want," I quickly tell him. "I made a stupid mistake that cost me my anonymity. Now that everyone knows I dance, I can't come back there."

"So, you're actually quitting?" he says in disbelief.

"Yes," I tell him in an irritated voice. "That's exactly what I told Lauren yesterday."

"Very well. I will warn you, if I find out that you're seeing Christian Grey, a client, outside of my club, I will sue you. Just know that. Therefore, it would be wise to return to Zion with Grey as a client before anything drastic happens."

When I gasp, he hangs up on me. I'm literally shaking like a leaf. But soon my fear turns into fury. I know my fucking rights! After some self-coaching, I decide to ignore his idle threats. He's just trying to scare you. I keep reminding myself that I never signed a talent's non-compete contract.

So, I guess I'm seeing Mr. Grey on Friday.

….

I finally called Betsy back. After chatting with her for nearly thirty minutes, she has me meet her at nine o'clock at night at the Vega Dance Lab in Portland. She'd already heard about Monday night's wild events from Bambi, but she was able to get a little bit of my perspective as well as my confirmation that I quit Zion. She tells me over the phone that I did the right thing.

When I meet her at the studio, she's under the assumption that we are just here to dance for fun. I break the news to her as we stand alone donning sweat clothes in the middle of the dancefloor, with bright lights reflecting off of it and the surrounding mirrors.

"I'm going to still be dancing for Mr. Grey. Well…at least for one more day."

"Just one more day?" she says, surprised.

"Well, I told you about his…you know…thing," I say nervously.

Her brow furrows. "What thing?"

I sigh. "You know."

Suddenly the lightbulb goes off. "He wants to do a little hanky-panky, too?"

Well, we've kind of already been doing that in the VIP room.
Sort of.

"I think he was expecting that. Then I told him that I was inexperienced in that area."

"In BDSM? I'm sure that the majority of women are," she chuckles.

"Not just that," I say, nervously exposing my bottom row of teeth.

She blinks at me. "What do you mean?"

Nervous, I take in a breath. "Well, I've never… You know…"

Like a light switch has just flipped, Betsy's confused expression transitions straight into pure shock.

"Sweet lord," she gasps, placing both of her hands on either of my upper arms. "You've never made love before?"

"No…I haven't," I say, shaking my head with a nervous smirk.

"Oh, sweetheart," she says, pulling me into her arms for a hug. "I can't imagine how pressured you must feel. Has he tried to force himself on you?"

"No," I tell her point blank. "On the contrary. I sort of feel like I've been forcing myself on him."

Betsy leans back and gapes at me. "Do you? Do you want to? With him?"

"It's all I ever think about," I say, borderline ashamed of my dark innermost thoughts. "He's so different from any guy that I've ever known. I'm just not sure if he feels the same way about me that I feel about him."

"Well sweetie, if what I heard about Monday was true, he was darned sure pissed at you. He literally lifted you off of that stage, is what I heard," she laughs. Her laugh causes me to smile. Yeah, he certainly did. "Only someone who truly cares about you would do that."

I sincerely hope that she's right.

"If you truly care for this guy like I think you do, you need more than just Friday night. Just like we got him to come back to the club last month…just like we got him to leave his submissive, we can get you dancing right into his heart. How about it?" she beams.

I smile wide and nod my reply.

"And after I teach you these two dances that's sure to do what we want them to do, I want you to give Joy a call. That's if you are still thinking about making your dreams a reality with him."

Holy shit.

Am I truly ready for this? Do I really want this, or is it just a case of me getting too caught up in my fantasies? Just because I think about something constantly doesn't mean that it's good for me. No matter what I learn from Joy, I'm not going to be ready to do any of that wild, crazy shit that Grey likes by Friday. It's not going to happen.

But he knows that you're a virgin, Steele.
Surely, he won't expect you to go from zero to one hundred overnight.
Right?

….

Early Thursday evening, I sit in Joy's tiny little office located inside of a suite in a professional high-rise not too far from my apartment. When I first got here, seeing the large, intricate red script lettering that spelled out "Seduction & Stamina" on the upper glass portion of the wooden door caused me to be taken aback, especially after walking past other doors labeled with the names of doctors, insurance agencies, and hair salons. When I walk in, it was quite obvious that Joy was very excited to see me again after almost two weeks. She then leads me from the modest lobby to her personal office where I sit on the sofa opposite her desk, and she takes her seat behind it.

Joy hasn't changed a bit since that night I first met her at Betsy's party. She obviously loves the color black. She loves short skirts. She loves very tall heels. And she loves to wear her full blond hair in a ponytail.

Joy adjusts the thick black frames on her nose. "So, tell me about him."

Nervous, I clear my throat. "Well, he's wealthy. Extremely wealthy," I quantify. "He's in his late 20's. He lives in Seattle…"

"What's his favorite thing he likes to do with you?" she interrupts to bring me down a specific path.

Her question takes me aback. "Well…" I stall, thinking long and hard about my answer. "He…he likes it when I dance for him."

"Okay," she nods pleasingly. "That's a start. So, what happens when you dance for him?"

"Um…he watches?" I say, unsure of exactly what she's looking for.

"Does he look like he's enjoying it?"

I nod. "Yeah. He smiles. It's…seductive, I'd say."

"Good. And does he dance with you?"

"Sometimes," I breathe. Believe it or not, I'm picturing that night I danced to Erotic City while on his lap, and he moved with me while we kissed for the first time. It was…heaven.

"Does it get quite heated when you dance for him?"

"Oh yeah," I gasp, practically fanning myself.

"So, you've at least kissed, I presume?" she says in a voice that's loud enough to hear very clearly but still comes across as a sensual whisper. It's the perfect accompaniment to my wild, wild thoughts.

I nod. "Lots of times." As I say it, I picture Mr. Grey devouring me with his mouth.

"Is there touching involved?"

I picture his sizable erection firmly pressing against me, his mouth kissing the tops of my breasts. I wanted nothing more than for him to take me on that velvet sofa.

"Yes," I breathe.

"Where does he touch you?" she hums.

"Everywhere," I exhale, and all on their own, my hands smooth a path down each of my thighs over the rough edges of my jeans. I honestly forget where I am. My lids are clinched shut. I don't know why I'm this way in front of a stranger, but her welcoming spirit just forces this dark side of me to come out. It's indescribable.

"Everywhere?" she asks. "Does he touch your sex?"

"Mm hmm," I moan. I picture him pushing the undergarment to my costume off to the side and gliding his skilled fingers back and forth across my horizon. I can feel my toes curling in my sneakers as I recall the very moment he sticks one finger, then two inside of me not too long after I'd just finished dancing to Give It To Me Right.

"And he brings you to orgasm?"

I nod wildly. I quickly shake the feeling and open up my eyes. Staring back at me is a proud Joy.

"Do you want to be sexual?" she asks. It's a very loaded question.

"I'm dealing with someone...someone who I really care for, who's a very sexual human being. And I want to be that for him, but…but I'm still a virgin," I say nervously. All of a sudden, Joy's smile wipes away. She looks rather serious. The change alarms me.

"My job is to make sure that you want to be sexual for you, not just for someone else. The moment you lose touch with that, sex suddenly becomes a tool of power and not intimacy, as it was originally intended."

Her words suddenly shake me to my core. I feel that I really need to explain myself further.

"Dancing for him makes me feel sexy," I tell her. "Even when I'm learning the dances with Betsy, I feel…beautiful."

"Ana, you are absolutely beautiful," she pleads to me. "But you should always know this, even when you're not dancing and being admired by some man." Again, her words smart, but I know that they are beyond true.

As our meeting goes on, we eventually get to the part where I learn things about sex, which is what I initially thought that this meeting would be when Betsy urged me to give Joy a call. And although I hate being put on the spot, I know that it was important to hear those hash truths from Joy. Sex is serious business. I need to know that this is what I want to do before I open myself up to it. And no matter how much Mr. Grey says that he'll be fine with just taking a dance, even I know that's not enough for him.

It's not even enough for me.

"Learn your body," she tells me first. "Explore yourself. Find your most sensitive spots without even exploring your vagina." I gape at her, yet she doesn't waver.

"Love your body," she says second. "You deserve to have the best time during intimacy, and that can't happen unless you allow your body to receive it."

"And most importantly, relax. Then let go and lose yourself."

Before I leave Joy's office, she gives me a free sample of something in a tube called Teaser Pleaser. "You can use this inside and out," she instructs. "Find out what works best for you. However, if you're correctly working steps 1 through 4, you won't even need that," she beams, pointing to the tube she just handed me. I blush at her words. "When you're ready, let that special person bask with you in the moment. It's not selfish at all to lose yourself if you bring your partner right along with you. Often, seeing their pleasure gets you there, and vice versa."

I'd assume that my meeting with Joy would go one way. I thought I'd be hearing all about how to please a man and how to get myself ready for him to have his way with me, but no. Joy's all about building up one's self. Betsy was right, this was an excellent idea. Before I leave, I promise Joy we'd meet again sometime next week for a follow up chat.

Everything is pretty much hinging on Friday and what will become of Mr. Grey and I after our first post-Zion appointment.

CHRISTIAN

I stand, staring down at Downtown Portland through the floor to ceiling windows. It seems as though Friday has taken forever to arrive, yet as it approaches eight o'clock, time seems to have sped up. Annoyingly, I get more and more anxious by the second. I begin pacing the grand suite.

I told Miss Steele on Monday that she had until 8:10 to arrive, or our deal was off the table. I was pleased to see that she hadn't step one foot near Zion. Still, I don't feel all that positive that she'll show up here, even though she has visited some dance studio two days in a row, according to her tracer. There was also the inexplainable visit to some office building in Vancouver last night. Was she there for a late job interview?

It's 8:03 when I hear the sound of the door unlocking. I turn around to face it when it swings wide open, revealing Miss Steele in a long tan trench coat.

Thank god – I internally exhale in relief.

"Miss Steele," I great her with a smirk as the heavy door closes shut behind her. "It's good to see you." She nods in response, appearing a little bit disconnected. It startles me.

"Miss Steele?" I say in concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says too quickly. "So, where do you want me to dance?" She walks over to the nearest coffee table and drops her purse. Then she places her fingers at the top button, appearing to unfasten it.

I blink at the whirlwind that is Anastasia Steele. "Why the rush?" I say to her. "Do you have somewhere else to be tonight?" I approach her until we stand toe to toe. She's smells delightful. And it's wonderful to see her walking so confidently in high heels. It's a drastic improvement to when I saw her in them that first night in the private room.

"No, she answers as her eyes fall to the floor. I lift her chin back up until her eyes meet mine.

Hell, it really is good to see her again.
She's more gorgeous than I last remembered.

"We'll have dinner first, then you'll dance. Okay?" I hum. She nods with her chin still in my hands. I finally release her.

"Sit," I order her over to the nearest sofa. "How's your week been?" She reluctantly makes her way over there and I follow behind her. When she picks a spot to sit in, I position myself right next to her, making sure she's fairly close. Even in the private room, she had a habit of first sitting far away from me at the start.

"Eh," she replies, shrugging her shoulders in uncertainty. It's then when I know that something's up.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Nothing that I can't handle."

My gaze at her narrows. "Miss Steele, what happened?" I repeat myself.

"It's fine," she sighs. "I promise."

My expression turns darker. "I don't like to repeat myself, so it's best that you tell me what's bothering you before I pull it out of you."

Miss Steele flinches as if she's taking my warning to heart.

Good.

"Jay Dark threatened to sue me if I saw you outside of Zion," she murmurs.

"What?!" I bark.

"But I know that he can't do that. I never signed a contract to dance, although they tried to get me to sign one on Tuesday."

"Asshole," I growl. "Dark doesn't have a leg to stand on. I'll fuck him up if he lays one finger on you."

"Calm down," she sighs. "I know that he can't touch me. I just don't want to make a public scene. I don't need my family or close friends finding out what I've been doing for the past month."

Eventually my temperature starts to cool, but not by much.
Fucking Jay Dark.

"You should have called me," I say, none too pleased.

"I would have, but I don't have your number," she frowns.

Fuck. She's right. Immediately, I take my phone out of my back pocket and send her a quick text. "You have it now," I say, sliding the phone back into my pocket. "You better call me if Dark ever contacts you again. I'll take care of him."

When her phone buzzes inside of her purse over at the table, she looks to be beside herself. "I don't even want to know how you even got my phone number."

I smirk. "I have my ways, Miss Steele."

"Oh, I'm sure," she says with that smart mouth of hers.

Dammit, I don't understand how this girl can evoke so many things from me. It's baffling.

Room service shows up right on cue and I let them roll in the cart to the dining room. Ten minutes later, I am seated across from Miss Steele as we're about to partake in a house salad, salmon, mashed potatoes and asparagus, along with a glass of wine. I raise my glass to her to propose a toast. "To life outside of Zion." She reaches her glass across the table and clinks it with mine before we each take a sip.

As we eat, it's generally quiet except for the occasional clinking of silverware.

"More wine?" I ask her after a while. She nods, and I fill up her quarter-full glass before refilling mine from empty.

"So," I start. "I planned on covering your fall tuition today. However, depending on how you dance tonight, you might be able to earn a little more than that. I understand that you have a new car. You also have school expenses for spring."

She looks up at me with the biggest, blue innocent doe eyes. It's breathtaking.

"How are you expecting me to dance tonight for me to earn more?" she sincerely asks.

I take another sip out of my wine glass. "You'll have to take into account everything you've learned over the past month. You can't overthink it. You must lose yourself in the dance and take me there with you."

Her eyes open wide as if my words triggered something in her.

"What?" I ask.

She shakes it off. "Nothing."

My brow furrows at her, but it doesn't prompt her to share her thoughts with me.

"I always wondered, why do you expect me to dance on a full stomach?" she says all of a sudden.

I smirk in response. "I never really thought about that," I say honestly.

"I'm surprised that I haven't puked all over you during a lap dance," she says with a straight face.

I laugh. "That wouldn't be good."

Yet I know just by looking at how skinny this beautiful girl is, she doesn't even bother to feed herself. Look at her, she's fucking cleaning her plate as if she's hasn't had a decent meal in days. It's aggravating.

Less than fifteen minutes after dessert, she and I return to the living room. I'm seated as she stands about seven feet away from me, still wearing her trench coat.

Finally, I get to see what lies underneath.

Down Grey, you're not going to be fucking this one.
She's a virgin.

The realization of not touching this beautiful girl is beyond disappointing. If I could touch her, I'd do so many wonderful things to her. Then I remember, I've finger fucked her. You have touched her before, Grey. But I haven't touch her in the way that I've dreamt of touching her night after night.

"Do you happen to have an iPod with Bob Marley songs on it?" she asks. "I need a particular song and meant to borrow my roommate's, but I completely forgot."

"Had you ever had an orgasm prior to two weeks ago in the private room with me?" I say, completely ignoring her question. She gapes at me.

"Why?" she asks, looking very defensive.

"I want to know," I say point blank. Her gaze falls to the floor.

"No," she utters, ashamed.

As I suspected. I clear my throat, sit back in my seat and take another swig of wine. I need the entire bottle at this point. I know this girl is getting ready to drive me insane and all I can do about it tonight is to sit back and watch.

Part of me wishes that I didn't meet her until after she graduated from college. Maybe she would have ended up with some louse at school who didn't know what the hell he was doing, yet she still would have gotten some sexual experience. Then I wouldn't feel so awful about the potential of taking some sweet girl's virginity.

Yet the thought of some other asshole fondling her, trying but failing to please her body…hell, or even succeeding pisses me off to the nth degree. For some reason, I don't want any other fucker touching her.

"Music?" she says, leaning sideways and impatiently taping her toe.

"Oh, right," I say, standing to go to the bedroom to retrieve the iPod. I return less than a minute later.

"What song?" I ask her as I wake it up.

"Turn Your Lights Down Low? Do you have that one?"

Holy shit, she's bringing out the big guns. The King of Reggae? And that particular song is beyond seductive. Sure enough, I find Marley's Exodus album and when I locate the requested song, I know that I'm a goner.

Miss Steele, you surely know how to test a man's will.
But what she doesn't know is that I've mastered the art of restraint for over twelve years.

"I have it," I tell her as I walk it over to the speaker dock. I look over my shoulder as I position the device and catch Miss Steele retrieving her wine glass that's sitting on the coffee table next to mine. She glugs the remainder of it before refilling her glass.

"Slow down, Miss Steele. We both know what tends to happen when you have too much alcohol in you," I scold. I focus back on the iPod and the speaker when I hear her sharp response.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Do you really want to discuss it again?" I snip.

When the iPod's in position, I turn to her for her reaction. She looks petulant.

"No, not really."

"I thought so," I strike.

"What would you have done if someone came up to your job to tell you all of these wild things about someone who'd never even bothered to personally tell you about those things?"

"I would have sat down and listened to every word that someone had to say and not have paid any mind to the intruder," I simply reply.

"I tried that," she hisses. "Yet you refused to tell me anything until after I got drunk and went out on that floor and made a fool out of myself."

I approach her slowly. "And yet you kept something from me."

She blinks. "Yeah," she breathes, ashamed.

"So, we're even," I smirk at her, placing a wild strand of hair behind her ear. For a moment, I thought that I felt her tremble before she steps back.

"Is the song cued?"

I nod.

She carefully places her hands on my arms, and with a mischievous but innocent smile, she guides me back to the sofa right where I sat before getting up for the iPod.

As she turns and walks back over towards the speaker, I know that her hands are making quick work at the large buttons that fasten her trench coat. I try my best to control my breathing, but when the outer garment falls to her feet, all I see is a beautiful porcelain colored back adorned with satin black straps. And instantly, I picture her bound with some of my black rope in my playroom. Her gorgeous bottom bursts forth in matching boy shorts. I'm going insane internally as I watch her walk over to a nearby chair and lay down her coat. She then turns around to look at me and I freeze.

A black satin halter-top laced with black straps.
She looks simply magnificent.

"Miss Steele," I sigh. Before I can complete my sentence, a reggae drum suddenly strikes up through the speaker, and Miss Steele turns down the volume just a tinge. And without any precursor, she seductively strides with one high heel after the other until she's standing behind me. As soon as Marley croons his request, which is also the title of the song, she leans over the sofa and sweeps her palm across my lap.

And we're here.
So soon?

I turn my head sideways and I watch her slowly, seductively caress her gorgeous curves to the beat, and I'm already short circuiting.

Holy shit.

Control yourself, Grey.
The fucking song just started.

She gingerly walks from behind me and stops once her ass is facing me head on. Her hands glide across her breasts again, this time, her ass goes out, teasing me. Her hands go up and tangle into her wild chestnut mane as she pops into a squat. Those hands suddenly move back down and glide down her body until they reach her thighs. Once she smooths them over her knees, she pulsates her entire body up and down into her squat before rocking back up into standing position.

Grey, you're losing the battle.
Please, get ahold of yourself.

Soon, Miss Steele is walking back over to the sofa and suddenly throws a leg across mine, pressing a heel into the sofa. She flings her hair across my face before reaching back her right hand from behind and glides it across her sex.

Fuck! I nearly gasp out loud. And before I can even exhale, she pops a squat right into my lap, facing me. And then, she just goes wild, rocking up and down into my lap. It's then when I realize that I am sitting on my hands, trying my damnedest not to lay a finger on her. Because once I do, it's over.

For the next two minutes or more, Miss Steele continues to evoke her same torture on me, but the intensity of her movement increases more and more by the minute. She's sweating, and I'm nearly sweating watching her. Witnessing the glow on her skin does things to me. I want to make her skin do that.

Grey, don't even think it.
You can't sully this girl.

I watch as she drops down in front of me and teepee's her ass straight into the air before falling into a series of ground shattering thrusts. My dick pulsates with her every drop. Shit! And no matter how hard I try to stop my raging hormones, they just keep on getting worse.

I must warn her. I don't know if I can restrain myself if she falls back into my lap. I'm going to do what I've done to her for the past few weeks. But what frightens me is that there's no one outside of the door to stop things from going too far. There's no panic button around her neck or strewn across her waist.

Would she let me take her virginity? I sure as hell don't deserve it. I've never fucked a virgin. Ever.

As the song, too long but yet so short, comes to a close, she's back in my lap, dancing sensually on me. With her eyes closed, she leans out with her head dropped back and facing the ceiling. And I realize that she's completely lost in the dance. She's not here with me. I know that as soon as the song dissipates into silence, she'll wake up from her trance and turn back into that shy, nervous girl that I've gotten to know over these past few weeks. But what she doesn't know is that there doesn't come a part where I wake up. I'm exactly where this beautiful girl left me, stranded in the land of extreme want in desire. It's a shitty place to be when you're the only one there.

Just as I expected, her eyes spring open. But what I don't expect is for her blue eyes to look at me longingly and her fingers to thread themselves into my hair.

The song's over, Miss Steele.
What are you doing?

Still, she rocks in my lap as if the song is still playing. I can just hear her breath…and mine. And suddenly, she kisses me.

Don't do it, Grey.
Don't you fucking dare kiss her back.

But I can't help it. I fall right into her as if her hips have put me in a trance. I begin to rock with her as our kiss grows deeper and deeper.

She then pulls away, but she has fire in her eyes when she does.

"I want you," she breathes. "I want you to take my virtue."

I freeze.

What?!

My shock suddenly stuns her, but she stills as if she's deep in thought. I refuse to touch her. I don't want to lead her on. I refuse to take something that I don't deserve…especially from her.

Soon, she's back on her feet. Out of nowhere, she starts humming sweetly and dancing slowly in front of me. I gape at her. It doesn't take long before she's lost yet again. I can't take my eyes off of her as she rocks her body and threatens to take me back there with her, but the familiar tune haunts me.

What is she humming?

It's not until she's midway through and back on my lap, caressing my arms, my face, my hair that I realize that she's humming I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen. I fucking lose it.

I grab her arms and pin them behind her back and then attack her mouth. She falls deep into my kiss as I take and take, giving nothing…yet she finds exactly what she needs in my lust. It's enough to send me over the edge.

I pull away from her mouth and claim her sweet neck.

"Please," she begs, gasping for air. "Please…"

I continue kissing her all over her neck, mouth, face, ear. She doesn't stop her plea.

"Please."

I'm afraid to ask her what she wants, because I know that I'll give her just about anything right now.

Goddammit!

Inflamed and yearning, I can't stop tasting her skin. And I so desperately want to taste her in between her knees and upward. That time when she wasn't looking in the VIP room, I snuck a sample of her from my fingertips. Holy fuck, she tasted divine.

I kiss her neck from one end to the next.

"Please," she begs for the hundredth time. "Make love to me, Mr. Grey."

She wants me to…make love?

I cover her mouth again with mine and I capture her moans. With gusto, I rock my cock against the place that it so desperately wants to be right now. Her groans get louder and louder in my mouth.

I don't stop. I move up against her relentlessly while holding her down by her restrained arms behind her back. And I want nothing more than to undo this halter top and use it to bind her up against the bedpost in the other room. Just the very thought of that sets me ablaze.

I don't realize it right away, but I'm just pushing and pushing and she's pushing back. Suddenly, her "Please," gets so loud until I can feel her body shaking. Oh fuck, she's coming. After a few beats, she does – crying out her orgasm.

Holy hell.

I stop moving and gape at her as I watch one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen lose all sense of control. It's beyond compare. After she exhales, I still don't let her go. I start kissing her all over again.

"Please," she gasps.

"You'd let me taste you?" I groan.

"Yes," she says so desperately.

I don't hesitate. I lower her down until her back touches the sofa and I tug her satin boy shorts from her waist until they exit from each heel. I kiss her thighs, teasing her. Immediately her hands find their way back into my hair. I'm reluctant at first, but then I quickly remember that this woman knows exactly where and where not to touch me. I then go to town.

I tease the skin of her thighs and the delightful sounds that she makes over me presses me to go further. I kiss her all around until my tongue lands on her sex. She loses it. It's more than obvious that she's never had anyone do this to her before by the way she wiggles.

"Hold still, baby," I tell her. I can tell that she's trying very hard, but she can't help it once my tongue has a mind of its own.

Mmm – she tastes even better this way.

"Please…"

I want nothing more than to absorb every drop of this dancing goddess, and to lap up every ounce of her as she comes in my mouth. It doesn't take long before she arrives there once more. Her thighs begin clenching my head as her orgasm shatters her. The sound is sweet, sweet music to my ears.

Maybe that's good enough for her.
Maybe she'll stop begging me to 'make love' to her.

I'm rarely wrong, but I've truly underestimate this woman's greed. She pulls me up by my hair and forces her tongue down my throat, tasting both me and her. As she does it, she's rocking her bare waist up into my jeans. I'm shocked.

She's like the fucking Terminator, refusing to relent.

"Please," she whines when she pulls away from my mouth. Her tongue suddenly finds my ear and I groan.

Once again, she starts to hum I'm On Fire as she rocks up into me and I lose my fucking mind. My hands slide between the sofa and her back and I unravel the straps to her halter top. She helps me as I remove it from over her head. I look down, admiring her naked body as she's still in heels. She looks fucking amazing.

I kiss her mouth, her naked breasts, her stomach.

"Please." Her pleading becomes more and more desperate. Then she tugs at my shirt.

Oh no.

I raise from her and sit up beside her naked body.

"What?" she gasps, kneeling towards me. "I didn't touch your chest."

"I know," I grumble. "It's just…baby…I really want to fuck the shit out of you right now."

"Well, do it," she counters.

I gape at her. "You…you sure you want to do this?"

She nods, pleading for the millionth time, "Please."

Shit!

"Alright. I…I guess I'll try my best to be gentle with it being your first time and all," I bumble like an idiot.

"No," she sighs. "I don't want gentle. I simply want all of you."

The passionate twinkle in her eye drives me absolutely insane.

Holy balls of fuck.

Well, if it's all of me she wants, it's all of me she'll get.

I certainly hope you're ready, Miss Steele.

A/N: Faithful readers – I'm back! Thanks so much for allowing me to take some much-needed time off from writing. I'm sure I'll need to do it again in the future, but it won't be for a good while. So, rest assured. ;)

In the next chapter tentatively titled "Fornication" Ana finally loses her virginity and is shocked when she wakes up all alone in Mr. Grey's hotel suite. But fret not, she'll return as they continue their dancing/sexual rendezvous at The Heathman.

However, what Miss Steele didn't sign up for is the excessive stalking that will take place. Also, her client's controlling ways will take her by great surprise. Will she regret falling for such a high-handed man? I guess we'll just have to wait and see. :)

For those of you who are interested, we started a new private Facebook group last week called Storie Tells All. Please feel free to join and get all of the new teasers before they hit the weekly update.

Until next Sunday. Thanks for reading! – ST2