Chapter 21

I have a little meeting with my security staff. Why they haven't all disappeared into smoke is beyond me. Well, not really. Christian had beaten me black and blue with a belt, and I took him back. This time he only made me pee him, me, and the bed. He's probably figured I'll be back to him in less than a week. So of course security remains.

Regardless, I'm taking charge. There is Sawyer, Ryan and three, count 'em, three other guys prowling around. I call a little meeting and get right to the point. "I'm having a dinner guest. It's fine if you let Mr. Grey know. But it goes in a written report, or whatever snail mail you use to Mr. Grey and Taylor. No cell phone calls to anyone, no alarms, no fire drills. Am I making myself clear here?" I glare. This kind of behavior got around Ray the few times I used it on him … its how I got to go to college two hours away from home.

They all exchange looks and humbly agree. Then they gratefully take the first large pan of goulash and butter rolls, fresh salad already dressed with Italian, and thick Amish noodles back to the other side of the duplex – no comment there – and I finish setting my scene.

I get everyone seated just as there is a knock on the door and one of Taylor's people sticks his head in. Sawyer moves to the door and they confab. He looks at me, real wide-eyed. So … they must get training information on Christian's dear bestie Elena.

"Don't keep her waiting," I chide softly. You know what the problem is with reading all that literature? I can fit myself mentally into whatever scene I need to. While it obviously doesn't include BDSM and now Pee Fetishes, I can handle the Mistress of Games just fine.

Elena comes in all Dom. She is wearing black leather pants with knee-high black leather stiletto boots slicked over top. She's got on a black pushup bra underneath a sheer silvery top that is only tied at the waist so everyone can get a view of her girls in their expensive cages. And she's fucking blonde. A beautiful luxurious Reese Witherspoon fall of hair down her back in straight glory. Interestingly, her eyes are blue. The same blue as mine or different? It could be a very important detail, my Conscious reports.

Ethan stands up and both Ryan and Sawyer look … stunned. Hey, they're in the presence of not only beauty, but evil. Being men, they just don't know it. My Inner Goddess snickers at the bitchy gender-libelous thought.

"You must be Ana," the troll states, coming to me and taking both my hands as they lay at my waist. She air kisses my cheeks. She has come in and taken control of the entire house. It obviously is a normal behavior for her and she automatically directs the four of us to suit her. Within a few minutes she has a glass of whatever alcohol Ethan has poured her, her purse has been securely placed on the couch by Ryan, and Sawyer has held the back of her chair as she sits. I, of course, serve everyone's meal.

She likes it that I am the servant, it's obvious in how she purrs over the men and encourages them to ask me for seconds, more coffee, more Chivas for she and Ethan. I obey, eyes and expression demure, never a trip or a spill. She gloats and simpers, tosses her head about. I wonder if she knows that makes her look like a nervous horse; then I have to keep my head down to hide my smirk.

In my at-home sweats, hair in a ponytail, make-up free and barefoot, I look like a teenager to her perfect make-up and costly outfit. A teenager next to her … five decades? Oh, yeah, she'll think of that part later.

I'll give her credit, the bitch troll can work a dinner table. Even with all her years to practice, the skill to make men at ease and draw them out had to be a part of her DNA. I don't know what my security knows about her, but Ethan is eating out of her hand no less than Sawyer and Ryan before the salads are eaten. She gathers information from them like it's an interview – only they don't know it, I can see that. All of me, and I mean all of me, we watch and listen and take this up front and center stage performance to heart … learning. We're damn good learners.

Once the meal is finished – and damn if she didn't bring McDonald's apple pies – I leave the dishes and suggest that we talk. Ethan heads out for partying at some bar or club with friends. That's one of the nice things about being rich, I guess; you can go out and get a hangover and there's no work tomorrow to be pissed if you're late or call off.

I have Sawyer and Ryan go outside, since I want this to be a private girl talk. I swear they look hurt … I've apparently spoiled them and they like being inside to monitor me for The Sadist. Well, tough luck – its good weather so they'll just have to suffer some fresh air and look for shooting stars. Then Cottie and Bron can take over while I get to know Christian Grey's BFF.

I understand that Mrs. Lincoln has her own agenda. Would it surprise her to know I do as well …

My Conscious and Inner Goddess have been very busy with the dry erase board. They have it all detailed out.

Is there money involved in this Dom / Sub relationship? How does that work, exactly?

How often do these two get together?

Exactly what has The Sadist CG told The Sadist EL about me?

What is their current sexual relationship?

What all advice has SEL given SCG?

Does SCG always listen to her advice? Do as she tells him?

So we sit down. Elena Lincoln all straight-backed and polished, me all comfortable and relaxed. She has the higher seating. I'm a good six inches lower in my chair, allowing me to look up at her face through my lashes while appearing to keep my head lowered. In true Dom form, she strikes.

"I am so delighted you agreed to see me. Christian has told me just everything about you and I wanted to meet you." Those eyes, much lighter blue than mine, glare out from fake lashes. Her voice shivers with that Dom power Christian has … I am assuming he learned it from her. "What has he told you about me?"

Honestly? I think your name passed his lips the first time last night. When he told me that you gave him the step-by-step to my humiliation punishment. Instead, I blink at her. "Just that you're his friend."

She restrains a frown, but I see the pull of her eyebrows indicating she wants to complete the action. Think, bitch. Why would he not tell me about you? That's got you worried. "Well, I am his best friend. I think I'm his only friend. I make sure that Christian is happy with his little girls."

I'll bet. "I'll do anything to make Sir, I mean Christian, happy," I reply in a quiet little girl voice. Just because over my dead body will I give The Sadist the delight of this submissive behavior, it doesn't mean that my internet research hasn't shown me just the right way to behave. I'm sure it's not perfect, but it's good. Call me Submissive Ana.

"Very good," Elena purrs. "He tells me you were a virgin, completely unschooled." Those botoxed lips curl. "If you should continue with him, I think some time learning from his past Subs will be necessary."

Oh, bitch, I was getting schooled. Apparently between kinky fuckery and beating his Subs, Christian also learned a whole lot about how the female body responded to stimuli. Particularly the stimuli that he could supply. From panty-dropping smile to that "I know what you are thinking" smirk, and what made a woman go mad with desire when he touched her. He'd obviously spent a lot of time getting educated and learning his lessons perfectly. Had the blonde bitch sitting before me been his teacher? What had Grace said … fifteen through a few years of college? Sounded like a doctorate level course timeline to me!

"Oh?" We pause as Ethan kisses my head, says the usual courtesies, and heads out. I hope Morgan is meeting him; otherwise I'll have to hand-hold tomorrow or when Morgan finds out that Ethan is a fly-by-night kind of guy.

"Yes. I started years ago." Pride is in her voice. "All my contracting Doms now have training tapes for their new Subs. It helps the new girls know what is expected of their Dom, his patterns, wants and needs. It cuts down on the training, makes the Dom so much happier." She laughs again. It's a nasal sound.

I look interested. What I am is … flabbergasted. Not only did the 15, well let's guess the past 10, know what they were doing as professional submissives, they had specific details about pleasing Mr. Grey. I can just imagine that it includes everything: what to cook him for breakfast, what color panties he prefers them to wear, how to suck his cock, what noises he finds the biggest turn on … and what instruments of torture to expect in his dungeon.

"You helped find his past submissives," I ask timidly.

"A side job," she agrees. "Christian is in business with me. My salons, Esclava, are all over Seattle, Olympia, Richland, Spokane. Just to name a few."

See how successful I am? And what are you, little brown haired girl? Nothing but a desk jockey reading somebody elses writings. I can read her thoughts as I politely keep my eyes on her Red Rum nails.

"My salon closest to Christian's home is the one all our Subs use. I know you'll want to get yourself waxed as soon as possible. Christian dislikes bush," she states knowledgably. "Of course he covers the cost."

The bastard has told her I only prune, not shave my bush. I can clearly see that the NDA I signed doesn't work both ways. Note to self: in future affairs, have the guy sign an NDA so the entire West Coast doesn't know my personal grooming habits.

I respond calmly. "Does he now." I get up and refill her glass, return to my seat. "I have … needs," I hint, beginning my play. My Conscious is outlining the plan, pleased to have found another use for the dry erase board. My Inner Goddess is watching Elena very carefully, informing me what she is thinking and feeling, reading her like an open book. It's frankly amazing what all she seems to know sometimes.

Elena's eyes light up. She thinks she has me. "Of course I make a profit off of what, and who, I provide for Christian. But your payment if you sign on under me to learn how to become a perfect Submissive is quite generous. Two hundred and fifty thousand for a fulfilled three month contract."

Two hundred fifty … Christ Almighty! These people are all nuts! "So how much does he pay you?" I finally manage to swallow and relieve my dry throat a little.

"One million," she answers, like it is the cost of a snow cone at Denney's.

Now here's the problem … these people have too much money. And no brains. I can buy that Christian Grey, Billionaire, doesn't care about the money; although I bet he does. Billionaire businessmen still watch the bottom line. So he considers his little BFF to be worth her weight in gold, acting as his pimp. And he considers the cost of his Subs probably well worth the small amount it subtracts from his checking account. Or whatever kind of account billionaires have.

I want to be sure of what the suggestion is here. "So if I sign on with you, Elena," I make my voice drip syrup. "I would contract with you to teach me to be a Submissive. Particularly, Master's Submissive?" God, I should have gone into acting!

She's pleased. Cat slurping up the cream pleased. "I think that would make things much easier all around. Of course, we'd tear up that ridiculous contract about boyfriends and girlfriends. Then there'd need to be a time apart, while I train you to please Christian. Say … one year."

I nod like I can exactly see how that would work. What I actually see is a woman who wants me apart from what she considers to be her property. I'd really like to know their history, Elena and Christian's. But I've already started down another path, so I'll just find another source for that information. Although I suspect who'll be telling me …

"I'm not thrilled with punishment, humiliation," I tell her, eyeing her boots. OK, they're hot. My Inner Goddess tells me we can look them up online later, points my eyes back at her face through my lashes.

Elena strokes her straightened blond locks. I'm betting extensions. "I will admit, Christian has told me you're hesitant about discipline. So I advised him to use humiliation. Has he?"

Finally! Something he hasn't told her already! Since it just happened last night, they apparently haven't discussed it yet. Now I have the opening I need! "No?" I make it a question … what would she have ever suggested? Poor little Ana would have no idea.

The bitch smiles. "I'll let you be surprised. But if you sign on with me, be sure that not only will Christian punish you for such stupidity as going to the papers with that picture, but I will as well."

Oh goodie. I top it off. "Yes, Mistress."

I swear to God, she has an orgasm right there on Kate's Queen Anne chair; her mother gave her a set as a housewarming gift. I get back to my agenda. "How often do you and Sir see each other?"

She sees immediately that I am searching for information, and kindly provides it as she strives to make me see how important she is in The Sadist's life. "We have lunch every Thursday. And of course we socialize."

Which is probably why The Sadist didn't call her to report on how the pee session went. He was saving it for lunch discussion. "Do Sir and Mistress sleep together?" I really want the answer to this.

"Of course." She looks at me, surprised. And over-acts it just a little. "I Sub for him occasionally. But mostly we just have a normal relationship. Nothing for you to be jealous of, Ana dear. It's not contractual." Which makes it better than what you and he have together.

I'm almost done with her … at least for this initial meeting. I look up at her and put as much cold calculation into my expression as possible – without over acting. My Inner Goddess carefully paints my expression on. "I sort of had another offer. Dr. Lowe. With the clinic?" Hopefully she knows what I am talking about. I mean, how many BDSM clinics can there be in Seattle? "He gave me your card and said he'd be interested in a contract with me, if I got trained."

I swear she almost has another orgasm. She actually presses her thighs together and squeezes them. I smirk slightly, letting her know that while I might not know shit about sex, and alternative lifestyles, but I get how to make a few bucks selling my body. Those light blue eyes gleam and I am beginning to suspect it's not just money with her; this woman enjoys pimping girls out.

"Richard Lowe. Oh, yes. He's not richer than Christian – who could be? - but he does pay better," she states with satisfaction. "And he has a completely different style than Christian. One you might like better. Much better." Apparently "better" is her favorite word of the moment. "Oh, he would suit you much better."

She nods to herself, stands up with her purse under her arm. "I'll talk to Richard, then give you a call, Ana." She looks down at me as I sit on the couch, a timid mouse ready to be squashed by her black boot. She looks absolutely pleased by my submissive behavior. "This little visit has no need to be told to Christian," she orders.

Too late, bitch. You obviously don't know Christian well enough to know his security tells him everything. "Sawyer and Ryan," I begin.

She cuts me off. "I'll go talk to them right now. This is just a little visit between us. Especially since we could be looking at you contracting with Richard. Christian's never a good sport." And she tramps out to find my security.

Good luck. I smirk for real and head for the shower. When I get out and check the living room dressed in pajamas and a robe, I found I've got a houseful. Sawyer and Ryan, Cottie and Bron are having a heated discussion in quiet tones. They all shut up when I poke my head out. I come out and go to the kitchen to begin cleaning up. "Have you two eaten," I ask my night shift security duo.

I swear Bron looks like he's strangling. Cottie is professionally blank-faced. "We're fine. Ana, do you know who that woman is?"

I start loading the dishwasher. "I think she's the woman who seduced Christian when he was fifteen, introduced him to his BSDM lifestyle, pimps the Subs he contracts with, and is now trying and succeeding in ruining his shot at a normal relationship with me through telling Christian how to behave while he stupidly follows along." I look over my shoulder at the four of them crowded into the kitchen. Then my confidence fades as Taylor parts them and looks at me impassively.

"Leave." They scatter. I'm hoping he means me, too, but Taylor crosses his arms and blocks the doorway. He's big enough that it isn't a challenge. Those green eyes of his consider me as I finish cleaning up. "I've worked for Grey for six years. Took me this long to figure out half of that." He smirks, a quick pull of his lips, before that face goes impassive again. If I hadn't seen it, and my Conscious got a snapshot of it, I wouldn't have believed it. "You're more than a pretty face, Miss Steele."

It's a classic line. Nice to hear I have a pretty face. Other than Kate, Ethan, some guys trying to get in my panties including Christian, I've never heard that. For some reason, it's believable coming from Taylor. "Where is he," I break down and ask.

"Drank himself to sleep an hour ago at Escala." Taylor shrugs. Probably without thinking he reaches for a chocolate chip cookie I made, the cookie jar open on the kitchen table. I pour him a cup of coffee from the pot I'd made at dinner time, set it on the table. "What game are you playing here, Miss Steele?"

I suddenly wonder if my house is bugged. Wired. Whatever they call it when every word you say and move you make is sent through the invisible airwaves to a van outside with geeks monitoring it all. Probably. I think about what I am doing. Then I sit down at the table and really think about it. I look at this large man who has his own motivations by being here with me. "I started out the innocent in this game," I finally state. It's the truth. Of everyone involved I was the only one who didn't have a clue … would I turn the clock back if I could? Maybe. "But no one who knows Christian stays that way."

"Walk away." Its good advice.

"I can't." There. I've said it. The man beat my ass with a belt. He made me pee us and the bed in his dungeon. And still I want him. I crave his presence in my life. I am insane. "Not yet."

Taylor gives me a look that says he doesn't buy the last part. "You want this Lowe guy?"

Yep, I'm bugged. "No. But that troll is going to make a fool of herself trying to get me to choose him over Christian."

"You've got to cut this shit out about the contracts," Taylor advises, then actually turns red and looks down at his coffee cup. "Sorry. None of my business."

I chuckle. For all intent and purpose, he's as involved as me. More, really. I sit there and try to get my head screwed on straight. Elena Lincoln has her claws firmly into Christian Grey. That's between the two of them. Except that Christian chose to thrust me into that little dysfunctional circle and I have been hurt. That had been inevitable, because Christian Grey was one fucked up mothersucker. But last night? That one was on Blonde Bitch's head. She had told him to do that to me. She didn't even know me! She had told him to use that humiliation punishment on me solely because she felt threatened by my presence in her boy toy's life. It had nothing to do with their shitfest lifestyle – she had wanted to drive me away from him.

Guess what? Nobody tells me what to do.

I owe her some serious payback. And if I could make that fucked up son-of-a-bitch Christian Grey sorry, it will just be icing on the cake.

I lifted my head and looked at Taylor. He was just as fucked up as the rest, but at least I understood where he was coming from; it was a job. "How drunk did you say he is?"