Chapter 2.
Anastasia studied her surroundings trying to grasp the man she was about to meet. She didn't have an appointment but her uncle didn't choose this unsuitable time and awful outfit for nothing, he had a plan for her and she needed to pay attention to every single detail.
So far, she didn't like what was there to be seen. The walls of the lobby were plain, painted white and gray, adorned with the same lame words that could be read outside: "Grey house". The guy obviously had a lot of money and little imagination.
I guess I'll lose it missionary style. The irony!
Her mind went to her first first-time, to how deliciously had that Sentinel banged her against the door of her bedroom. After her first orgasm, she had ridden him wildly for her own pleasure on the floor. It was short and rough and hot and unforgettable. She couldn't be more grateful for such an introduction to the wonders of sex.
That night, Nana had given her a special present, her first fuck-me dress with a brand new infra-sutra, a revised Hell's edition. Anastasia would never forget her words: "remember, it's not what you do but how you do it, every position counts". She knew Anastasia would become a Sentinel specialized in sexual transgressions, in need of as much experience as possible before getting assignments.
So far, she had gotten quite a few, but this was the first one on the terrene plane and she missed Nana's wise advices. Anastasia blinked some tears away, blinking also some fond memories away, and then took a deep breath focusing on the task at hand: Christian Grey. If he turned out to be a bad lay, she could always ride him into a coma. There, problem solved.
An oxygenated blond was looking at her through fake eyelashes with pity, wondering what this poor underdressed girl wanted so near her lunch time. A soft wind murmured in her ear, "her lips are fake too, I think you just lose the crown".
But Anastasia knew better, she was able to understand the difference between using a costume and disguising the truth. The woman in front of her was actually being honest, looking how she liked to look and not giving a fuck about others' opinion. She could feel the waves of confidence coming from behind the solid sandstone desk, it wasn't insecurity what inspired Blondie early in the morning.
"What can I do for you?"
"I'm here to see Mr. Grey."
"Aren't we all?" Blondie sighed quietly to some mental image, she obviously had a crush on The boss, meaning he was good looking. The King gave Anastasia some basic information about the human but not even one picture of him, which had worried her.
"You must be here for the interview, right? The student newspaper?"
"Right."
Now she understood her outfit, she was supposed to be some College nerd. Maybe that was Mr. Grey weakness, nerdy virgins. The assignment was getting interesting.
Blondie was distracted using the phone so she took advantage to send José on a mission.
"Go and take care of the girl I'm supplanting."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"You are a ghost. Spook her away, for good."
He liked the idea, poor girl wouldn't see it coming until it was too late.
Inside the elevator, Anastasia used the mirror to examine the body and appearance her uncle had chosen for her: a very young brunette with a bad taste in clothing and zero youthful narcissism, that hairstyle and fingernails were proof enough. She wasn't exuberant but had long legs and nice tits that could be useful if she played her cards right. Pale creamy skin, delicate cheekbones, and large eyes the color of the sky adorned her face, along with sensual lips and slightly separated, straight, even teeth.
Nice!
She discovered then the bag a little too big that was hanging on her left shoulder and looked inside of it hoping to find a decent lipstick. Nothing.
Really, uncle? You want me to go down on the guy fresh-faced and lipstick-less? How unsexy!
In serious need of adjustment, Anastasia bit her bottom lip sensually rehearsing a few naughty lines.
"What are you doing to me, Mr. Grey? Please, no, I'm a decent girl. Oh, what is this heat between my legs?"
Some innocent blinks, a naïve fidgeting, and voilà, Mr. Grey's wet dream coming true and coming hard. You're welcome, human, and you better make it good for me too. Anastasia had never faked an orgasm before and she didn't want to start now.
Another blond received her on the twenty floor, a natural one this time, elegant and flawlessly dressed in pastel colors. She felt bad for the girl when took notice of the clinical glass, gray steel, and white sandstone that surrounded them, much like in the lobby. Obviously, this man didn't know how unhealthy it was for humans to work in such boring colorless boxes.
"Mr. Grey will see you now. You don't need to knock, just go in." Smiling and emitting good vibes, the girl pointed to a partially open door. Anastasia thanked her sincerely, thinking of the best way to start the encounter. Maybe introducing herself.
Do I have a different name here?
A sense of insecurity stopped her right there. No, she wouldn't allow vacillation, not when she was so close to her target. Steel yourself, gurl, you can do this, you have spent years studying humans' sexual behavior. That instant, the name she should use came to her as a revelation. It was strong and appropriated, also a good reminder of this awful place.
Like Blondie 2 had indicated, she stepped into his office without knocking, carefully closing the door behind her. She immediately felt his eyes all over her body, studying it with curiosity and something else she couldn't define, something definitively dark. Is he a perv?
Turning around with an expression that simulated shyness she met his stare and stiffened, her mouth parting in an unbelievable o.
"Lucifer!"
"Excuse me?" She had shocked him with her own shock.
Shit, there goes my first impression!
She wondered what in the Hell was wrong with her, Lucifer was eight feet tall, had orange skin, and a set of horns so sexy she could come just by watching them ripping her underwear off. Nevertheless, it was undeniable, this man's facial features and Lucifer's were almost identical. Ancient instincts told her it wasn't a coincidence.
"My apologies, sir. I confused you with someone else."
He cocked his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lush lips. "The King of the Infernal Empire?"
"No." Yes. "My downstairs neighbor."
"I see." He was now standing, moving close to her, staring at her breasts shamelessly. How was he able to do that when she was wearing such an ugly oversized shirt was beyond her comprehension, but that was exactly what he was doing and she liked it… a lot.
Mhm, this man is dangerous to my feminist side.
Anastasia straightened her back so he could have a better view of her new perky tits. He noticed he had been caught ogling and struggled to stop doing it. It was actually funny to see the struggle so clearly reflected on his face. A little demon was fighting against a little angel inside his head right now.
You nailed it, uncle.
Mr. Grey was young and attractive, very, very attractive, like fuck-me-now attractive, with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes. He was dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie that matched his lobby downstairs.
"Christian Grey."
A strong, long fingered hand -long from her new, human perspective- was extended in front of her, waiting for her manners to show up.
"Anastasia Steele."
She placed her hand in his and they shake, triggering the weirdest reaction she had had in… well, never. Her legs were giving up, or maybe her whole central nervous system was, and she dropped to her knees while waves and waves of sexual need and arousal washed over her body. Her face was now mere inches from his crotch, witnessing the birth of the most beautiful earthly hard-on.
Realization hit her then, sudden and crutching. She wasn't there to seduce him into dirty rough sex but out of it. How the Heaven was she going to do that when that was exactly her preference and, from the vibes she was absorbing now, his too? She was a lot of things, never a hypocrite.
"Little… dirty… girl."
Well, shit!
A husky, sensual voice was suddenly commanding her attention up. She was so fucked, literally, figuratively, whateverely. Temptation was standing in front of her wearing an expensive suit.
Wait a minute, who is supposed to be temptation here?
And she wondered, temptation to do what? Blowjobs were already in her job description. Realization came again, hitting her as hard as the hard-on that was still growing in front of her new sky-blue eyes. She understood what this was, what he was. It wasn't just the promise of delicious rough sex what was dripping through his voice but domination and control, the type of domination and control that needed a special sexual partner. She wasn't here to perform the horny virginal nerd, no, she was here to perform the willing, obedient submissive.
Again, she was sooo fucked, because that was exactly what she was and, apparently, her uncle really knew what she was doing lately in her free time.