Chapter 35

Not long after mom has sent her text, Bob comes into the bar and my mother waves excitedly when she sees him. To see her face light up makes me smile. The feeling is obviously mutual, as Bob is beaming as well. He gives me a kiss on each cheek, before turning his attention back to my mother.

"I thought you two ladies would have been out all night," he chuckles, "but it appears that my darling wife has changed her mind."

I blush. I'm sure Bob knows of my mother's intentions. "It's a pleasure to see you Ana, but Carla has said that a friend of yours has unexpectedly arrived in Savannah." He looks towards my mother who gives a whisper of a smirk, before continuing mildly, "and she seems to think it's important that you and – your friend – spend some time together." My blush eases. Bob's manners and Southern charm can add an aura of decency to the sauciest events.

I watch as they leave. Bob slips his sports jacket over my mom's shoulders, and places his hand at the small of her back, guiding her out the door. My mother looks so comfortable, relaxed and they are just a confident 40-something couple. There's no evidence of the confused young woman who spent her 20s trying to find herself in the midst of raising a daughter. I'm a little envious of my mother at the minute. I certainly don't feel comfortable or confident. I stop off in the bathroom, fix my barely-there makeup and let the cold water run over my hands and wrists. The sensation distracts me and when my breathing feels somewhat normal, I shut the tap off and, thinking of my mother's words, enter the elevator. I don't see a floor 5, but a polite voice comes though the speaker. "Good Evening, what floor and room, Ma'am?"

"Room 501, please." I'm not quite sure in what direction I should speak, so I enunciate my words loudly and clearly.

There is a brief pause, and then the voice is back. "May I have your name, Ma'am?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, it's Ana, I mean, Anastasia Steele."

The pause is much shorter this time, and the voice is a little friendlier. "Of course Miss Steele. Your next stop is Floor Five."

This hotel is one of the nicest in Savannah, and this floor must be the nicest in the whole building. The elevator opens behind me, and there are only three doors on the entire floor, according to the sign on the wall, one straight ahead, one to the left, then right. . I can't begin to imagine what the rooms are like. 501 is on the left, and I walk down the short, seductively lit corridor. I go to knock on the door, but then realise that there is a doorbell, and a security camera.

Just as I'm about to press the doorbell, the door opens, and there he is, fresh from the shower in grey sweatpants. He's shirtless, and I resist the urge to lick a few stray droplets of water from his biceps. He hasn't shaved, just the hint of stubble shadowing that strong jawline.

"Well, isn't this a nice –surprise. Come in Anastasia." He stands back and extends his arm, welcoming me into the room. Room is not the right word. From what I can see, there is at least two rooms; the one we are in has an overstuffed sofa, flatscreen TV and a floor-to-ceiling picture window, overlooking the old town. Beyond, through the arched doorway, I can see a huge bed, puffy and inviting, with pristine white linens. The huge mirrors on one wall really add to the airiness of the room.

"Wow, Sir, this is beautiful." I cannot help myself but go to the window and study the low, venerable skyline of the city. Old Savannah has so much Southern charm, and the surviving antebellum buildings exquisite.

"I'm glad you approve, Anastasia." He laughs, obviously enjoying my reaction. "Your mother seems like an interesting person. Not like you."

I drag my gaze from the window to face him, his expression implying he's musing on the statement. "I'm more like Ray," I shrug. "Nature v Nurture and all that. Or Nurture v Nature, given that I share Ray's taciturn personality. Ray raised me through my formative teenage years, after he and my mom split up. Speaking of, she thinks that you aren't here solely for business."

"It was serendipitous, Anastasia," he shrugs right back at me. I pull my phone out of my handbag, and wave it at him accusingly. Serendiptious? The word goes unsaid.

"Anastasia", he rolls his eyes. The cheek of him. If I were to roll my eyes like that, I'd be across his knee in a heartbeat. "If you were me, and you wanted to stay in Savannah, rather than on Hilton Head, where would you go?"

"I don't know Savannah that well," I mumble. His Dom personality is backing me into a corner, and I know I shouldn't have been so cheeky, especially when he was calm and reasonable.

"Answer the question Anastasia."

"Well, for someone like you..." he quirks an eyebrow, with an unspoken careful, "What I mean is for someone younger, it would be Andaz. Failing that, the Mansion or the Westin. "

"So, here I am" he smirks. "Andaz."

"Were you watching me when I went to the ladies?"

"Yes, I was." I'm torn between nerves and arousal.

"Would you have punished me if I hadn't obeyed?"

"Yes, but I knew that you would obey. You pleased me greatly Anastasia." It's my turn to grin, although I do try to hide it. And fail.

"Thank you, Sir," I giggle. "It pleased me to please you."

I draw an imaginary square in the carpet with my toe. "But that doesn't answer my serendipitous question." I know I'm pushing him, but I need to know.

Christian runs his hands through his hair, giving it a lively bounce as it rises and subsides. "Anastasia. I had business to do here. I knew you were in the area, and it was a chance for me to expedite my trip to the South. If I saw you, I would have been happy." He crosses his arms triumphantly. "And I did see you. I did not order you to go to the lounge at Andaz with your mother. I will not lie; it was incredibly arousing for me to watch you obey my instructions."

I chew my lip as I think back to those instructions. Each time the phone buzzed, it was as if it was linked to my clitoris. Those sensations come flooding back, now that I am facing him. The man who controls me, to whom I cede control. Without the protection of my pants, I'm acutely aware of my arousal, with nowhere to go.

"Give them to me, Anastasia." My pants.

"Give you what?" I playfully tease.

"I think you know what I want to see. After all, I am your Sir."

Although I get to wear my own choice of clothes when I'm not with Christian, I breathe a sigh of relief that mom and I had gone somewhere nice, and that I was well dressed. I brought some of my new beautiful lingerie to Savannah. Prior to meeting Christian, I didn't wear lingerie. It was underwear. Plain. Simple. Unfussy. Serviceable. One of the most important life lessons I have recently acquired is that there is nothing like good underwear to perfect one's outerwear. Ironic really. I reach for my purse, and go to hand him the scrap of silky lace.

"No, not like that." I frown. What is his issue? "Do you think handing me a balled up pair of panties is respectful?"

I look at the scrunched lump in my hand. Instead, I take them, shake them out slightly, showing the shape. Taking the waistband between both thumbs and forefingers, I present them to him. "For you, Sir."

I'm rewarded with a smile. "Very good, Anastasia." Taking them from my hands, he then spreads them over his palm, holds them to his face and inhales deeply. I gasp, but he merely smirks. "Delicious, Anastasia. The scent of your arousal is..." He pauses again "... intoxicating." I don't know where to look, and I blush and stare at the floor for a second, until my view is blocked by said panties. "Breathe," he orders. "Your delicious essence, your arousal. Under my control."

"Now, seeing as I already know you are partly naked under that demure dress, I wish to see the rest of my prize."

I brush my hand over my breast, and slide down the side zip of my dress. I'm about to start pushing it off my shoulders, but instead take a few steps so that I'm standing in front of the mirror, with Christian standing behind me. I glance behind me to see him, a studious mask, but his eyes betray his poker face. Before I step out of my dress, he orders me to turn around to face him. I do so, and the dress falls to the floor. Placing my hands on my hips, I frame the small word, in Sweet Cinnamon Submission. Sir. There it is for him to see.

"Do you like what you see?" I breathe, "Sir?"

"Mine, Anastasia. You. Are. Mine."

"Yours."

"Stay there."He takes a step back, and sits on the sofa. I stand where I am.

"I want you to face the mirror again Anastasia. Look at yourself. Study your body. Consider the word that is on your body. Sir." I look at the word, in reverse now.

"Take off your bra, and touch your breasts, Anastasia." I hesitate slightly, but his voice is firmer. "Do as I say." I comply, fighting my nerves. I close my eyes, imagining that it is his hands. "Open your eyes. Look at your body. You have an exquisite body, Anastasia. I am ready to protest –my arms are thin, my backside is flat and my toes look hairy – but he interrupts me even before I start. "When I pay you a compliment, the only appropriate answer is 'Thank you Sir.' Do I make myself clear? Now, try again. Anastasia, you have an exquisite body.

The words don't come easy, but I say them. "Thank you, Sir."

"Come here please. Watching you fondle those perfectly formed breasts is making me horny, and I want to play with my Anastasia." He points to the spot in front of him. I take the two or three steps and stand in front of him. "Hands behind your head. Straighten your spine" I obey. With his left hand he softly squeezes my breast. With his right, he drags his finger lightly over the letters, smearing the lipstick, blurring the edges. "I like this very much, Anastasia."

He places his hands either side of my hips, and pulls me right against him, his head between my breasts. My hands are still behind my head, and I long to run my hands through those curls. "And I am looking forward to making you sweat that Sir right off your skin." Changing position, he grabs my chin, tilting my head back and kissing me hard, the slight stubble of his beard grazing my lips. I give low groan, part ecstasy, part pain. "Anastasia, you will be moaning more that that by the time this night is over."