Author's note: It's been a while, but I'm still surprised that I forgot how generous you all are. I haven't forgotten how to be grateful though, so you get a bonus chapter this week. I'll post two a week from next week, until my insomnia eases or I run out of words, whichever comes first. Thank you, for reading. - CS

Chapter Two

By the time I make it home, I'm absolutely shattered. When even a trashcan can prove hazardous, any travel is exhausting. I'm buoyed on hearing that Kate is feeling much better. In fact, she has that manic edge to her voice that means she's latched onto a story. She spares the time to warmly greet me, and then returns to her computer, exclaiming, "Babe, this is fabulous stuff! How did you manage to get him to answer every question?"

Mr. Grey must have already emailed her. "Uh, he volunteered. I had trouble setting it all up, and he didn't have much time."

"Cool, cool. Oh, do you have the recorder?"

She's been home all day, so I take the precaution of asking, "Kate, the floor?"

There's a flurry of activity, and then she announces, "Clear!" She always says it like an ER doctor about to restart a patient's heart, and giggles every single time.

Satisfied that I'm not about to trip on discarded clothing or a wastepaper basket full of Kleenex, I walk over and put the recorder on her desk. "Thank you. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, thanks. That chicken casserole you left was all that I needed for the day."

The chicken casserole, for two, that I removed from the freezer so I wouldn't have to cook when I finally got home. "Good. I'm glad it helped. Unless you need anything else, I'm just going to grab a sandwich and go to bed."

"Okay, babe." I'm not sure she even looks up.

I haven't quite finished my sandwich when Kate complains, "Nice one, Steele. There's nothing on here."

The recorder? I definitely switched it on, and started recording. However, when I went to pack it away, it was switched off. And I don't recall doing that. Maybe I fucked it up after all. "Sorry, Kate. I did say that I had trouble with it."

"It's okay. You've saved my ass, and ensured that my latest edition will be a big hit. St Anastasia triumphs again."

From someone else, it might sound insincere, but Kate always means it. "Any time, Kavanagh."

"Back at you, Steele. Oh, there's a package for you. I put it on the table."

"Package. From whom? I didn't order anything recently."

She laughs, and says, "You only 'whom' when you're nervous. I seriously doubt it's a bomb. The name sounded like some sort of tech company. If you didn't order anything, want me to open it?"

"Please."

Burning with curiosity, I put my plate in the dishwasher and sit at the dining table while Kate opens my mail. "There's a card in an envelope addressed to you. Nice handwriting. The card looks like braille. You any good yet?"

Holding out a hand, I confess, "Not good, but good enough."

Seconds after I've started silently reading the card, Kate says, "Fuck, Steele, are you blushing? What does it say?"

"Uh, it's from Christian Grey." I knew it was from him even as Kate handed it to me; it smells floral and masculine at the same time. "Is the package a pair of chunky specs with what looks like a tiny camera attached to the side?"

"And a few other things. Yeah, that's exactly the picture on the box. It's that reader you've been saving up for?"

Fuck, I'm crying. "It's better than the one I wanted. I'm guessing it's top of the line. With that, I could read real books again." Angrily wiping the tears away, I protest, "Why would he do that?"

Kate's voice is kind when she says, "Because he can afford it, and you deserve it."

"I don't know if I can refuse this."

With a joyful laugh, Kate says, "So don't."

"But I can't accept it either. He might get the wrong idea."

"Why? Did he try something?" Kate's voice is a mama bear, rearing up to protect her cubs.

"No, no. Nothing like that. He just...I think he likes me."

There is what sounds suspiciously like two hands clapping together, and then Kate purrs, "Of course he does. You're gorgeous. And how do we feel about him?"

She's not going to let this go now. "Maybe we like him a little too. But it's pointless. I'll never see him again."

"Not until Graduation."

"What?"

"When he hands you your degree. That's why the interview was so important to me. He's the guest speaker."

I can't deal with this right now. "Time for bed. I'm glad you feel better."

"Get back here, Steele. What, precisely, did he say to make you think he likes you?"

It's a running joke between us, though I don't really expect it to work tonight. "I'm sorry, who's speaking? I can't see a fucking thing."

"Don't start that shit. What the fuck did he say?"

"He said that you'd better get back to work if you want to meet your deadline."

"Okay, Steele. Raincheck. But there will be further questions on this subject."

No doubt. "Don't stay up too long. You're still recovering."

"Yes, Mom. 'Night, Mom."

Finally in bed, I retrieve the braille card from my nightstand and run my fingers over the words yet again, hearing his voice as I translate it in my mind.

A great man once posited that, in order to move the world, you need only the right tools.

I like your voice too. Your laugh fills me with joy. And you smell divine.

Christian

When I wake the next morning and check my phone, it tells me there's a text message from Christian Grey. As if he's in the room, I suddenly feel nervous. I can hear Kate in the bathroom, but still take the precaution of attaching the ear piece before opening the message. This androgynous, robotic voice I chose is a sad substitute for the real thing, but I can easily imagine his voice as I hear, "Good morning, Anastasia. I'm glad you arrived safely, and hope you slept well. Ms. Kavanagh gave me your number, saying that you asked her to do so. If that's a lie, or unwelcome news, please tell me. I very much enjoyed meeting you, and look forward to seeing you again. Christian."

Kate is meddling. Guess I can't blame her. This is the first time I've shown an interest in any guy since high school. Taking a moment to ponder my reply, I soon type, "Good morning, Mr. Grey. I slept very well, thank you. When did we stop being professional?" Grinning, I hit send. I almost drop the phone when it suddenly starts ringing. Hoping and fearing who it might be, I answer, "Ana Steele speaking."

It's his laugh. "I certainly hope so. You're holding her phone. My professional obligations towards you ended the moment you concluded the interview."

That reminds me. "Did you wipe the recorder?"

After only a moment's hesitation, he simply says, "Yes."

"Care to explain why?"

"I'm a private man, and I revealed some personal information to you. Not knowing how much of it had been recorded, I decided to err on the side of caution." When I ponder this for a while, he asks, "Am I in trouble with Ms. Kavanagh?"

"Lord, no. She's over the moon that you answered all her questions. And last night I was too tired to work out it was you, so I took the blame."

"Oh, well, thank you. And am I in trouble with you?"

He doesn't sound a bit scared. "Not for this. Though you could have just asked me, instead of going all ninja on me."

"Ninja?"

"Yeah, sneaking up on me and messing with my stuff."

His voice drips honey when he vows, "Well, that sounds very appealing."

Uh, oh. He's ramped up the flirting now that we're no longer professional. When I take a fortifying breath, it shudders like I'm having some sort of attack. And I can feel delicious heat spreading throughout my body. I still haven't thought of a comeback when Kate bellows that the shower is free. "Uh, I have to go. Thank you for the gifts. That was insanely generous. I'm still not sure I can keep them."

"Well, I sure as fuck have no use for them. Ms. Kavanagh said I made you cry?"

Fuck. "Ms. Kavanagh has a big mouth. It was good crying, Christian. Do you know what it means to me, to be able to read paper books again?"

"I can guess. You said my name."

"So I did. That okay?"

"Say it again."

He suddenly sounds like a boy, and I can't help a wide smile as I comply, "Christian."

This time he's the one whose breath shudders, and he whispers, "One more time."

His good mood is infectious. I laugh, and tell him 'Goodbye, Christian. I'll see you at Graduation."

"Goodbye for now, Anastasia. I'll see you soon." After a few seconds, I hear another tremulous sigh, and then he's gone. It's the most profound silence I've ever experienced, and I suddenly feel cold. It only eases when I read his card once more, twice more...until I find the will to get out of bed.