Author's note: Reminder this is a Prequel occurring four years prior to the whirlwind romance of the Fifty Shades Trilogy. This is Christian's POV.

Chapter 5 ~ House Call

"Master. What would you like to eat, Sir?" She asks from under the stream.

I am rather hungry… we've not had a chance to eat with everything going on. I change my plan of having her finish something Mrs. Jones left. "I'm going to order in. Pizza."

I call my favorite takeout place. I want a large Hawaiian pizza… extra cheese, ham and pineapple topping, delivered. Escala building, 1420 Fourth Avenue, Seattle. Penthouse apartment."

"And I want 2 dozen subs delivered to Fire Station 2, Belltown. I want the best. Condiments on the side."

"What kind?"

"Hearty sandwiches: Roast beef & cheese, ham & cheese, turkey & cheese."

"Got it."

I give him my Credit Card information. He reads it back to me.

She's finally done showering. I wrap her up in her fluffy robe. She hangs her dress from the shower head.

While we are waiting for the pizza to be delivered Brandy asks "There are ripe pears. Would you like one, sir?"

"Are you well enough?"

"Yes, thank you, sir."

"Okay then. Do two. One for me and one for yourself. Be very careful with that knife. I don't want to call the paramedics back."

I sit at the breakfast bar watching as Brandy uses a oiled Teak cutting board and a razor sharp Nexus paring knife to expertly cut up the pears, serving them in small bowls. She seems much steadier now.

"Sit here," I point to the chair next to me.

"Shall I set places, sir?"

"Yes, placemats in right hand drawer." This is only her second weekend here so she doesn't really know her way around yet. She sets out placemats, plates, silverware.

"Eat."

We are eating our tasty pear slices with small desert forks when I get a text from the concierge. "Pizza delivery."

I text back. "Be right down."

Usually I'd have it sent up but I want to tip the concierge to thank them with their discretion with my ill guest. The pizza is already paid for on my card, I tip the driver.

When I return, Brandy is still sitting as directed at the breakfast bar. It's less formal. I put the box between us.

"What would you like to drink?" I ask her.

After this night, I could use a stiff drink. Brandy I think… well, that's a coincidence… taking a bottle of Hennessy from the bar I pour myself two fingers into a crystal snifter.

"Soft drinks, tea, coffee… I think we have milk. Cranberry juice?"

"You stay put." I sound harsher than I intend but until I'm certain she's not going to black out again. Having her seated limits risk of injury.

"Yes, sir. Cranberry, please, sir."

I hand her a glass and place the juice container on the counter.

"Help yourself."

She serves a piece of pizza on each plate, then sits waiting me.

"Eat."

I'm well into my second slice when my phone lights up.

"Welch."

"Mr. Grey, I have Doctor Brown and her nurse from the S.F.C. coming. I promised a donation to the clinic, sir."

"Good thinking. Thanks." I hang up. A late night house call is certainly worthy of a generous donation.

Brandy has eaten well, had her glass of cranberry and another of sparkling water.

I get a text from the concierge. 'Dr. Brown here.'

'send up' I text back. 90 seconds later I hear the elevator ping. They must have been holding the elevator.

I meet Dr. Brown and her nurse at the foyer doors. Doctor Brown is a middle aged woman with dark hair, graying at the roots. Her nurse is younger, blonde, and attractive. They have stethoscopes around their necks and shift their medical bags to shake my hand. By then, Brandy has joined us.

I lead the way upstairs to her bedroom, open the door wide as they enter. The nurse begins unpacking her bag, handing Brandy a hospital gown to change into before spreading one of those sterile pads on the foot of the bed. Dr Brown has set her laptop on the side table. I stop inside the door and ask if they have everything they need. Dr. Brown answers yes.

"I'll wait downstairs," I say.

I leave, closing the door behind me. I'd like to listen in, to know what's going on. Hell, I'd like to watch! I could have left my phone in the room but didn't think of it in time. Gee, I guess that's a step too far, even for me.

While I'm waiting, I make a call to my PA. "Judith, Christian Grey." I leave the message on her voice mail. "When you get in on Monday, I want to make a donation to the Seattle Free Clinic. Ten thousand dollars. Get the information for me and leave it on my desk. It's a good cause…"

Now that I have a chance to think, I have heard of women who pass out from their orgasm. I've never seen it in person, though. That's what 'La Petit Mort' refers to. Brandy said it's never happened to her before. In my experience, women are multi-orgasmic. If this happens again… or often… it will certainly derail the whole Dom/sub relationship. Brandy is a lovely, attractive woman but this really complicates things. Does this make Brandy unsuitable for my submissive? Maybe I should end it? This is premature but I need to keep my eye on the prize.

I wonder what Elena would think? Well, this problem wouldn't exist with a male submissive. This is not willful disobedience of the sub, Elena would be all over that but if I must walk on egg shells, it rather spoils the experience. I mean, how far can I push her? What does it feel like? Good or bad? I could cut my losses and start over with a new sub.

Brandy, Doctor Brown and her nurse have come down, interrupting my thoughts. Brandy has gotten fully dressed, presumably under their watchful eyes. I can see the lines of a bra under the clean navy blue silk dress. Brandy casts her eyes down, demurely.

Doctor Brown steps in between us; she wants to question me further.

"Brandy tells me she just fainted… right after sex."

"Yes, that's how it happened."

"Okay, we just needed to confirm the facts. Everything checks out. Her heart sounds fine, her BP is normal. I think it was caused by her intense orgasm… she mentioned," she says softly.

"It's not common but it does happen in some women."

"She said it hadn't happened to her before. What's the likelihood of it happening again?"

"There isn't data on it because it's unpredictable. I suspect an individual's susceptibility to it is just that… individual."

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"I don't think so. You are going to keep an eye on her tonight." The doctor is making it plain, Brandy is to remain under observation. The doctor has no way of knowing that I and she sleep separately.

"Yes, of course, doctor."

"We've made her a follow up appointment at the clinic in 2 weeks. We'll do an EKG and labs, then."

"I'll see to the donation to your clinic first thing on Monday."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey."

"Thank you for coming on such short notice. It's a great relief."

When I return from the elevator, Brandy has not moved from where she was sitting throughout our conversation. Good girl.

"Shall we finish our dinner?"

"Yes, sir. Do you want the pizza reheated? I can microwave the pieces. Or we can just eat them as is."

"Sure, heat them." The truth is I've not tried microwaving left over pizza. I don't know why not. I'm not domestic. People reheat food all the time in a microwave. I watch as she places each piece on a plate and zaps it. The first piece, she starts and allows it to stop repeatedly as she tests how long it will take. She puts the first piece in front of me while the second piece is nuked. Then she reaches across the counter with her piece, then comes around. She stands a moment at my elbow, eyes cast down.

"Sit, eat." I say.

The pizza is gone…

"Let's have apple pie… there's ice cream, too."

She serves pieces of Mrs. Jones pie onto plates which she warms for us, which she serves with 2 scoops of Breyer's all natural vanilla ice cream. We could be talking about something else.

She rinses the dishes under running water before placing them in the dishwasher.

"It's well past midnight… you may go to bed."

"Thank you, Sir."

Brandy gets up and heads up to her room. I follow. The doctor wanted her under observation. I can sit in her chair and watch until she falls asleep… then I'll play my piano until I can't keep my eyes open, before going to bed myself.

Brandy goes into the bathroom, leaving the door open. I make myself at home in her bedroom chair. She goes into the dressing room. Emerging very quickly, fully naked. She kneels in front of the chair, hands flat on her thighs, head bowed. Submissive. Beautiful. She's waiting… waiting for my command.

This isn't what I planned… but there's no reason to suppress my needs any longer. I unzip my fine grey wool suit trousers.

I wake with a start. I am in the chair in the sub's bedroom. The room is dark except for a couple of LEDs from the TV, a too bright digital clock across the room… I stretch and work the crick out of my neck. I pad over to the bed where a naked Brandy is sleeping soundly. I can see the rise and fall of her breasts… barely concealed by the coverlet. A much as I am tempted by the delicious morsel before me… I've done my duty, she's safe… and I need to think.

I'm troubled by the stresses of this evening… really troubled… there's something disturbing on the edges of my memory. When I close my eyes, I see a woman motionless on my floor. I try to help her. I can't wake her. (1)

I go to my piano, my comfort, where I lose myself in Bach's Prelude in C Major. It's nearly dawn when I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I lazily toss my shirt and suit pants across the bedroom chair. My black Onyx cuff links fall from my pocket onto the floor with a clatter. I leave them there and wearing only briefs, slip into the bed myself.

~~~ Saturday morning

I awake just before seven. I've hardly slept. This is late for me. I get a shower and dress in well worn comfortable jeans, a leather belt with a nautical buckle, a white T shirt with a silk screen imprint of a sailing ship.

I'm getting hungry, a condition I don't tolerate well. I smell cooking coming from the kitchen. That can only mean Brandy is up. There's nobody else here.

I find her in the kitchen wearing a pretty white La Perla nightgown with a scoop neckline. Held away from her body by her bosom it is, at once, a contradiction. It's a young flirty style that completely covers her body… The white silk ends abruptly at her thigh, showing off her long shapely legs. From across the room, she appears to be modestly dressed but when she passes in front of the window she might as well be naked. I can see everything.

Brandy greets me cheerily, "Good morning, Master." She stops what she is doing, places the utensils she's holding on the counter and stands at submissive-attention with her eyes cast down. Waiting for my command.

"You may resume your cooking. What are you making?"

"Bacon and French toast, sir."

"Very well."

I take my seat. She has two places set at the breakfast bar, glasses of juice. I can smell coffee… and the bacon under the broiler. She has already cut up pears for us. She says a bit defensively: "The pears are perfectly ripe, sir, I didn't want them to go by."

"Yes, of course." I abhor wasted food.

"If you are ready, I'll put the French toast on."

I nod and she does so.

"Have you recovered from last night?"

"Yes, sir. I am fine." She stresses.

"You are going to go to the appointments at the clinic." This is not a discussion. After everything it took to get her checked out last night… she's going to complete any testing they want.

"Yes, Mr. Grey, I will.

"Good."

She serves our breakfast.

"This is good."

"Thank you, sir. I'm not very practiced but your housekeeper, Mrs. Jones, list of suggestions was very helpful."

"I'll be sure to tell her."

We eat quietly… I have promised to meet my family this afternoon to go sailing. We have the morning.

Brandy clears our plates.

"I want you in the playroom in fifteen minutes." I unlocked the door last night, though we never got to use it. She knows what to do. She'll change and I know I'll find her kneeling by the door, like the perfect sub she is.

I take my time… letting the suspense build. Her contract includes suspension and I'd really like to… to give her the sensation of practically flying… but not there's not enough time this morning. It takes a lot of time to do the rigging… the submissive must remain still on the bench, while the ropes are rigged… then the bench moved out from under her. Maybe tonight or tomorrow. I can't help but smile, something to look forward to.

I have observed all sorts of clothing worn by other dominants… I bought black leather chaps and vest but it just didn't seem 'me'. For now, I'm just wearing the vest and after removing my underwear, I put on a pair of faded jeans washed to within an inch of their life. I can wear what I like… it's not the clothing that makes a dom. It's the ability to project your will onto another so they willing give themselves to you.

I force myself to walk with measured steps to the door of my playroom. I know Brandy is kneeling, waiting, eyes down, just inside the door. I grasp the handle and open the door. She doesn't move. She doesn't look up. Good girl.

I walk over the wall where the sound system is hidden behind a panel. I start the music… first up is a sultry song "Fallin" by Alicia Keys. It really would be handy to have a remote for this… I'll ask Fred & Barney to come up with one. I reach up and pull down the grid from the ceiling… the ratchet clatching loudly.

She can hear me as I move around the room but she can't see what I'm doing. The suspense will be building. I select some leather cuffs that buckle from the rack on the wall… they attach easily with panic snaps where ever I choose. Standing over Brandy, I command her to "Stand." I buckle the cuffs on her wrists… I give the door a shove and lead her into the room. The door latches with a loud ca-chunk and we are alone.

It's nearly eleven. Brandy is asleep in her bed, still wearing her robe, the coverlet still over her as I left it. I've showered, shaved and am dressed for sailing. I bring Brandy a drink of cranberry and sparkling water. I wake her up.

"I'm going out. You can make yourself lunch. There's plenty of food in the kitchen. You may use anything you like."

"Yes… sir." She's still a little groggy from sleep.

"You will make us dinner when I get back. Choose something from what Mrs. Jones has left us. We'll eat at the dining table. You'll have plenty of time to get everything ready."

"Yes, sir."

Author's end note: (1) This nightmare is a flashback to Christian's childhood when, as a four year old, he witnessed his birth mother die from an accidental drug overdose. He did not understand why he could not wake her. These events are reported in the Fifty Shades books by E. L. James