Wounds to Bind Chapter 42 – "A strong woman who recklessly throws away her strength, she is worse than a weak woman who has never had any strength to throw away." –Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D'Urbervilles

February 4 – APOV

I meet with Robb Loeder and Mr. Roach. It is the 30-day employee evaluation for my Copy Editor position. I earn a Meets Standards rating. All the editors I work with agree I'm doing an excellent job. They compliment my steady turnaround of manuscripts assigned to me. I heard a few rumors from Amber and Emily about how Jack was indolent when it came to copy editing. They appreciate my fact-checking data included in the content. They appreciate my ability to proofread and edit text at various stages of the publishing process. They appreciate my computer processing skills. It is recommended I attend a workshop on the legal aspects of publishing. It is recommended I continue to work with Marketing or PR for the author launch in March. I'm reminded of Hannah's review mid-month. Robb has an evaluation form for me to complete to assess Hannah's knowledge, skills and abilities.

February 5 – APOV

I wear nice slacks, sweater and oxfords to Cassie's class. I brought my heels in case she wants to test me while wearing them. Standing, walking, sitting, shoulders straight, hands at my sides, flats, heels…I'm a little tired when it's over, and I'm not the only one.

Cassie gives us an overview of next week's class, a list of recommended You Tube videos, anda worksheet about our appearance. How important is it to look your best…at home…at work…at an event? What do you like or dislike about yourself? Are you capable of accepting a compliment? Are you considering cosmetic surgery? How much did you spend on clothes last month…last year? Do you have a signature color? Signature scent? Do you have one piece of jewelry you wear all the time? Describe your favorite outfit. Mary wants to see questions Cassie asks us…SIGH.

Cassie releases us with a reminder to submit the tips for this week's videos. Prescott and I exchange a tired smile when I get to the SUV.

Kate invites me to the Superbowl Party at Grey Construction. Elliot is hosting a tailgate party for the men who moved him and me. I refuse, the last thing I want is to have a bunch of drunken men hitting on me. I assure her I will be at Grey Manor for dinner. Prescott will take me. I'm desperate for a nap before dinner.

When I wake, there is time to review some videos before I dress for dinner. How to shop for shoes – tips for great fit – how to coordinate shoes with purses – how to recognize designer shoes. The two best videos are about appropriate size heels for different venues, and different styles of shoes. Two are repeats of how to organize shoes in your closet. I'm sick of shoe videos when it's time to dress for dinner. I've prepped six index cards for this weekend's class and downloaded a graph of shoe styles for my binder.

I reach for navy wool pants, a navy cashmere sweater, and navy flats. My hair is an inverted ponytail with small gold hoop earrings. I take a selfie to send to Cassie. One down…eleven more before next Friday night's class! Maybe Prescott would help me with an impromptu photo shoot.

XXX – CPOV

"We have to determine the receiving line," I insisted. "Look, I don't like being touched. I can shake hands and I can be polite. However, Taylor or Sawyer will intervene if any of your girlfriends, coworkers or girl cousins decide to get handsy at the wedding. Intervene means removing someone or removing me."

"Oh damn," Kate swore. "I forgot to add security to the number of guests."

"Done," Mia assured her. "I included six security staff in the 30 staff count. I figured food and seating for staff. Security's table can be out of the main throughfare since they'll be walking about."

"Taylor," I called out. He showed up in the dining room.

"Mr. Grey?" Taylor looks askance at me.

"Please join us," Mom gestured to a spare chair in the dining room.

"Taylor, what do you need to do for Elliot's wedding?" If I have to endure these wedding meetings, I want backup.

"My team needs to conduct an advance inspection the morning of the wedding at the church and the reception hall. We'll need to vet your vendors. I need a list of the guests to conduct background checks, and my team needs the authority to check guests and IDs against a guest list to ensure there are no gatecrashers. We don't want one of Mr. Grey's business competitors being a plus one and causing a problem at the wedding. We need the schedule for the wedding, the lineup at the head table, the lineup for the receiving line, seating charts, etc." Taylor talks logistics. "We need the plans for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner."

"We won't be doing a formal receiving line because of pictures at the church. Elliot and Kate want time built in between events and dances to go around to the tables to individually thank everyone for attending. Pictures at the church will keep my mother out of the champagne until there's someone around to keep an eye on her." Celeste explained.

Grace and Carrick emitted groans, in harmony.

"Which segues into something I wanted to ask," I jump in next. "I'm personally glad there is no formal receiving line. However can six of Kate's male cousins act as ushers for the wedding? I would pay for their tuxedo rentals just to protect myself. They can come to Escala and be measured when the rest of the men are measured for tuxes. Elliot can get them matching cufflinks and tie tacks as their usher gifts. Don't gift flasks if you don't want them drinking at the reception."

"Silver monogrammed keyrings work well," Eamon suggested. Mia took notes.

"Ushers solve the wedding seating situation," Celeste appears appreciative. "As guests arrive at the reception, the ushers escort them to the seating chart and then direct them to their table."

"What do we do about gifts?" Mia's question is considered by the parents.

"Well, I'm urging our side of the family to deliver gifts to our house, but you know people will show up with gifts at the wedding. I suggest Elliot and Kate open the grandparents' gifts at the wedding, put the rest in a delivery truck and send it to our house."

"Do we have to open gifts?" Kate is reluctant. "There's a lot to do at the reception, especially since Elliot and I want to go table to table. Can't we just thank everyone and then ship them out? We can put pictures up on Facebook after the honeymoon."

"I vote for that," Elliot appears relieved. "We'll open when we get home from the honeymoon. Mom said I have to write the thank you notes for my side of the family, friends and guest list."

"Works for me," Kate agreed. "As long as Mia and Ana are around to write down prezzies when we open them."

"Can do," Mia said, I nodded. "Now, who will pass out wedding favors?"

"My girl cousins," Kate announced. "I've already got issues with them."

"Kate," Celeste admonished.

"I agree to walk slow and torture Elliot, but I'm not having eight bridesmaids, two junior bridesmaids and twin flower girls," Kate insisted. "We have to devise something to keep my girl cousins occupied. Ana and Mia are walking down the aisle with me. No one else."

"Let's do matching dress colors for the gift girls like boysenberry or mulberry. We can get pictures of them with the ushers. The ushers can wear black tuxes, vests, ties. We won't have them dance with the wedding party but we'll have a dance especially for them where they can dance with their plus ones." Grace suggested.

"Dresses, tuxes, gifts, more flowers and boutonnieres," Mia kept writing a list. "Special dance for ushers and gift girls with their plus ones."

"Speaking of dances," I intervene again, "I'd like to be relieved of dance duty with aunts, grandmothers, cousins, coworkers, college friends, etc. Just have me dance with the wedding party and mothers. I don't mind dancing with Grandma Frannie or Aunt Rachel. However, I won't be a dance partner for wallflowers. Assign duty dances to the ushers and the gift girls."

"Good idea," Elliot agreed. "I don't want you having a meltdown and escaping from the wedding."

"Head table…" Grace reached for blocks with names written on them. She spoke as she arranged them. "Eamon, Celeste, Ethan, Ana, Kate, Elliot, Christian, Mia, me, Carrick." She lined them up. "Does anyone have an issue with my suggestion?"

"Rectangular head table for ten," Mia wrote down the lineup when no one voiced an opinion. "The banquet tables are round and hold eight. As we get R.S.V.P.s – we build seating charts."

"Not a discussion for tonight," Eamon decreed. "Kate, is it too late to offer you a million dollars to elope?"

"Daddy," Kate frowned at her favorite parent .

"I'd match his million," Carrick offered.

"I'd match their two million," I offered. "Or I'll pay for a destination wedding with less than 50 people."

"I've been dreaming about my wedding since I was a little girl. It's your fault for loaning me out to everyone as a flower girl or a junior bridesmaid." Kate scolded her father.

Eamon chuckled. "I blame your mother for that. You were too pretty…you are too pretty. Everyone wanted you in their wedding."

"Well, I want what Katie wants…within reason. I want to see my princess in a beautiful white dress walking down the aisle," Elliot warned.

Ana gulped some of her wine…and my actions echoed hers. In the parlance of Ana's favorite TV channel…I'm going to lose the plot if we spend Sunday dinners for the next five months discussing this wedding.

XXX

Ana and I have a chance to talk while I drive her home. It's like winning the lottery to hold her soft petite hand. I apologized for yelling, she apologized for running. She explained the smell of beer reminded her of her mother's third husband who was an abusive drunk. It is a trigger and she apologizes. She's still embarrassed about the situation, but thanks me for taking the videos and pictures off the web. She also thanks me for the lovely white roses. She asks how I know white roses are her favorite flower. I reveal I didn't know, but I'm glad to know now. I explain I sent her white roses because they were classic, like her.

I apologize I will miss our date night on Wednesday. Ros and I have to be in New York for business. I promise to Skype her after our business dinner which will be almost bedtime for her. It's an electronic date. Ros and I won't return to Seattle until late Thursday night.

Ana says we can plan our next date at the Kavanaghs for dinner on Sunday. She puts her hands on my chest, her gloves and my coat and clothes providing a barrier. I get a sweet kiss and a quick nibble on her pouty lower lip.

"One of these days, I'm going to bite that lip…hard," I warned her before leaving.

XXX – APOV

God I'm glad the wedding details are getting settled. The Save-the-Date notices are actually refrigerator magnets. They are prepped and ready to be mailed. The pictures are staged. They wear gangster attire where Elliot wears a fedora and Kate wears a beaded, feathered headband. The middle picture is casual. Attired in jeans and sweaters, Elliot and Kate stand in a field at sunset, arms wrapped around on another, while Elliot kisses Kate's forehead. The third picture is sci-fi cosplay costumes against a backdrop of alien worlds and stars. The magnets announce: 'Join us for the fun!' and include the date, times and places.

Save-the-Date cards should arrive in everyone's mailbox on February 14 or shortly thereafter. Their engagement announcement is scheduled for February 14 in the Seattle Times. The wedding dress, the wines, the menu, the flowers, the readings for church, and the wedding invitation have been narrowed down to half a dozen choices. The only settled things in this wedding are the ring on Kate's finger and the wedding date and time, venue, attendants and colors.

My last thought before falling asleep is Cassie weekend one is done. Thank god for my assistant, Hannah. She keeps my work life on an even keel. I wonder if I should reach out to Ros …asking her about the business classes…but she's out of town with Christian this week. I need to invite Harley and Shawn for dinner on Wednesday night. They'll be gone before Christian Skypes. I'm not hiding them from him, and I will have something to do so I don't obsess before Christian Skypes.

XXX – CPOV

I'm playing my piano, when she wanders out in my white shirt and white lace panties.

"Don't stop playing," she brushes her breasts against my back.

"Keep me entertained then," I tell her, lifting her on top of the piano. I slowly unbutton my shirt and push it aside, revealing her beautiful breasts. "Lean back," I tell her, putting her in position. I bend her knees and plant her feet, spreading her legs. I sit down at the piano and play a piano concerto while she closes her eyes. She sits there quietly, listening to the music. I rise and plant a kiss on her perfect pouty lips. I sit down and begin playing again. When I finish the song, I close the keyboard. I strip her panties off and restrain her hands. I lift her to a sitting position, resting her feet on the closed keyboard. I lift her from the piano and set her on her feet. One arm snakes around her waist, one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so her hands are flat on my chest. Her body trembles, waiting for my order…

My vocal sigh awakens me and the dream dissipates, leaving me frustrated and horny. Damn…I lay there and breathe until my erection goes away. I dress in gym clothes and hit the home gym for two hours. When I come back down, Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen.

"What would you like for breakfast?" She has made coffee and checks a grocery list on the counter.

"Waffles and bacon?" I suggested.

"I have the ingredients to make waffles with an apple cinnamon compote and there is apple wood smoked thick bacon and coffee." She offered.

"Please, I'd be ready in thirty minutes," I know I'll hurry. I want a few extra minutes to savor her cooking.

February 7

"You've learned to hide your feelings because of emotional pain and because of the possibility of physical pain. Sensitive people often feel alienated, embarrassed or ashamed. You wonder why you can't be as gregarious as your friend Kate…" Mary began this week's topic.

I nodded.

"Name two things you can do better than Kate – and I don't mean cleaning, cooking, bill paying, or being responsible."

"I'm more observant about people's feelings. Kate, when she's in her reporter mode, bulldozes over feelings to get to facts. I think before I act. Kate isn't thoughtless, but she acts on instinct a lot more than I do." I explained.

"I think you need to learn you are compassionate, empathetic and thoughtful. You can focus on tasks and are not easily derailed. You are a calming influence on people. Let's talk about your classes and your feelings." Mary suggested.

"I never knew I was so deficient," I whined.

"Who said you are deficient?" Mary is affronted.

"I can't even walk properly in Converse," I muttered.

"Do you get from Point A to Point B when you walk?" Mary asked.

"Yes...but I fall down sometimes. I can't be wicked uncoordinated for the wedding," I grimace.

Mary laughed and we talk about my hour long standing and sitting practice each night. Mary suggests practice hour might be a good time for some free association examinations of my day. I can use the conversation app on my phone and transfer thoughts and ideas to my journal.

We also discuss developing a list of two-minute tasks for the condo, for the office and for me. Those tasks can be accomplished while I'm waiting for a call, or for something to print, or for hot water to heat for a shower. Examples are writing in my journal…performing one yoga pose…picking out tomorrow's clothes…drink water…eat a piece of fruit…make a list of tasks which need accomplished…

And my favorite recommendation of all…just breathe.

February 8

Shawn and Harley come over for dinner. I invited Hannah, Amber, Claire and Emily. I warn Prescott in advance I invited friends for dinner. I tell her the guest list and warn her she's not allowed to frisk anyone. I insisted Prescott join us so she gets to know all my friends. I want them to be comfortable around her also. We made a baked potato and salad bar. Shawn made white peach lemonade. We had a great time, laughing and talking. I'm sure Cassie would have approved of my casual entertaining. When I invited them, I warned Shawn and Harley we can't discuss Christian. Shawn entertains us with quotes from chic flicks. I tell him I'd pay good money to watch him at open mike night at a comedy club.

We're through with dinner, dishes are done, everyone's gone, and I've sent three selfies today to Cassie: workout, working and casual. I'm reading when Christian Skypes.

"I have a huge favor to ask," Christian says. "You know that pose you do when you read sometimes, laying on your stomach, propped on your elbows, knees bent, feet in the air, ankles crossed?"

"I know it," I admit.

"Is there a chance I could see it? I won't ask ask for lingerie, but that pose would make my day."

I change into my blue teddy and robe, braid my hair, pull my chair close to the bed to hold my laptop, and lay down. He gives me directions on moving the laptop a bit further away so he can see all of me. He sighs a very satisfied sigh. Our Skype is sweet. We talk about the helicopter tour. We talk about helicopter tours he's taken all over the world. We talk about New York. Christian takes his laptop and shows me the skyline from the balcony of his penthouse there. It's not as wonderful as the skyline of Seattle from Escala, but I thank him for sharing with me. He says he'd love to share it in person one of these days. I like the décor of his New York penthouse better than the décor of Escala but I don't voice my opinion. The penthouse in New York is warmer… natural colors, dark woods and a natural stone fireplace.

Christian talks about the work he and Ros are doing in New York. They will be delayed and won't be home until Friday afternoon and he has therapy appointments Friday night. At least he can deal with emails and work on the plane. He asks how Ros's bodyguard is working out. I tell him I like Prescott and appreciate her discretion. We blow kisses at one another and sign off the Skype before one o'clock his time. It was a successful electronic date.

February 10 – APOV

Christian called when the GEH jet set down. He wants to grab a quick coffee and sandwich when I get off work, but I can't because I have class. I apologize, but I have enough time to run into the powder room, change clothes and get to class on time. He asks what I'm doing for dinner. I lie and tell him I'm eating at break time from class. I don't need him to nag at me about eating.

Cassie greeted us. This is personal style weekend. We were assigned to take pictures of everything in our wardrobe, print the pictures on 4x6 postcards and bring the cards to class. So for an hour every night last week, I worked on the assignment. Cassie begins by having us sort the cards into clothing items. We assign letter of the alphabet to each section – A for outerwear, B for shoes, etc. Then we number each card from one to whatever with the letter assigned to it. So pretty much my list is dresses, skirts, pants, blouses, sweaters, jackets, shoes and purses. I pretty much have this done, since Shawn did it for me, but I have almost a dozen new things I haven't added to the ensemble list like the Winter Gala outfit. Cassie is pleased I have this under control. She gives us 4x6 plastic binder sleeves to hold the printed cards from our closet. Since we started the assignment, we put it away to finish and bring with us on Sunday.

Everyone wore casual wear and she critiques us. Everything I'm wearing is fine – jeans, white silk tunic, minimal makeup and jewelry. She hates my Converse and recommends ballerina flats or 1-inch pumps. I say I will take it under advisement…but I probably won't. She tapes how we walk in casual clothes and shows it to us against the walking tests of last week. We are admonished to stand tall, shoulders back and down, blah…blah…blah. She critiques how we sit in casual clothes also. Our last few minutes of class are spent walking around an office setting and sitting behind a desk and in the guest chairs. We learn to rise gracefully from different office seating. I'm glad when it is over. By the time she's done…it's ten, I'm whipped and ready to go home and take a hot shower. Eight o'clock will come quickly.

XXX – CPOV

Sela massages my back from torso bandage to the top of my ass. The massage along the spine is wonderful until…

"Whoa…pause," Sela pulled her hands away from me and stepped back.

"Oww…" I complained. "That's painful."

"No kidding," Sela snarked. "It's a physical manifestation of whatever was going through your mind. You went from relaxed to a knot of muscles and nerves. What were you talking about with John?"

"Dancing," I admit.

John watched my face. "Are you still worried about dancing at Elliot's wedding? I thought the six ushers solved the seating and dancing issues."

I sighed. "Mia asked Elliot to send his employees to dance lessons so they won't bruise her feet at the wedding."

"What's the rest of the story?" Sela pried. "There's more to it to have a physical reaction like the one you had."

"Mia suggested Elliot ask Ana where she's taking dancing lessons!" I shoved myself into a seated position and vented about Ana, dancing lessons and the horn-dogs who work for Elliot. I vented about how Elliot used to be the man-whore of Seattle until he met Kate. If Ana wants to learn how to dance why the fuck didn't she ask me? We dance great together and I'd be willing to teach her to dance. Everybody knows dancing is just clothed seduction. I vented about why the fuck Ana taking is dancing lessons unless she plans to dance with a lot of men at Kate's wedding. How the fuck do I put a security guard at the dance lessons so I know she's not getting hit on by assholes?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Sela warned. "Since you've vented, lay face down on the table."

"I don't feel like getting massaged anymore tonight," I snapped.

"I'm not sending you out of here with a knot in your back! Now lay down and let me check you." Sela snapped back. Her fingers gently probed my back after I laid back down. "Christian, do you vent, mentally, when you kick box with Bastille?"

I paused and thought. "Sometimes," I admitted. "Bastille usually gets knocked on his ass when I'm pissed off about something."

"I could tell," her fingers skimmed over the knot. "Less painful now isn't it? You verbally released the angst in your head instead of containing it inside your body. May I massage this knot away while you talk to John? From the look on his face, he's got questions."

I sighed again. "Yes, but if John asks his typical hard questions, it might be difficult for you to get rid of the knot."

"We'll deal when the issue presents itself," Sela worked on my spine from where the bandage ends to my tailbone.

John asked…I answered. The first question was why I thought dancing was clothed seduction. I explained Elena dance lessons were less tense because she knew where to touch. If I performed properly for a few hours, I was rewarded sexually.

His questions came faster, my answers not so fast. Sela continued to massage my back. Eventually John has no questions; I have no answers.

Sela is ready for the next step in the process. "I'd like to talk with you about next week's session." She stood behind me. "You need to remove your torso bandage."

I took it off, sitting on the table.

"You have seven scars on your back. For the purpose of massage therapy, I like to number scars. It's easier to communicate when you say stay away from one instead of saying stay away from the first scar in the top quadrant of my back."

"I understand, but do you have to touch?" My voice is small and contained, and I think I have my emotions under control.

"I don't have to touch the scar, but am I allowed to touch your skin at a twelve o'clock position next to the scar until we label them?"

"That is acceptable," I won't hold my breath.

"One," she touched. "Repeat after me to verify the number."

"One," I parrot the number back to her.

"Two," she moved to the next one.

I froze…in my head I hear Ana counting out the belt strokes and I'm ashamed…and I break down. Sela steps away from me. John hands me a handkerchief. Sela brings a warm blanket and wraps it around me.

"I'm stepping out to the powder room," Sela announced.

XXX – 3PPOV

"Jason," Sela said softly as she exited the office. "Watch him tonight. We've had two strong reactions out of him tonight…on both ends of the spectrum…one angry and one tearful. I'm worried he may experience a night terror."

"How is he doing?" Jason asked.

"We've gotten farther with touch therapy tonight than we've ever gotten…but like I said…two strong reactions. John is talking to him now. I'm going to the powder room. I'll be right back."

"It was a rough work week for him: breakfast, lunch and dinner meetings and working until midnight. Even with his body pillow and Ana tape, he had two night terrors, which he has not had for a while." Taylor revealed.

XXX – CPOV

John continues to let me cry until there are no more tears. Then we talk about my meltdown. I explain why counting is a control mechanism in BDSM. Part of it is making the submissive follow orders, part of it is the anticipation control factor. You announce you are administering x number of strokes. You make the submissive count the strokes to prolong the punishment, giving them time to process what they did wrong and why they are being punished. Listening to them count gives a Dom the opportunity to listen to the submissive and note if there is issues…body language and spoken clues to know if the submissive is fighting punishment or nearing limits. I explain I should have clued in to the fact Ana was yelling out the numbers in the beginning and quietly sobbing them at the end. I was euphoric about beating her and anticipating a wildly satisfying sexual congress with her once the punishment ended. I should have understood we were both too emotional to even begin a punishment scene. I want Ana so bad it feels like I can't breathe and my heart is shredded.

John replaced my blanket with another warm one. "So, there are issues to discuss. We've got plenty of warm blankets and privacy. First, let's talk about Elena and dancing lessons. I know you said before she ordered you to take dance lessons at college. How did you handle with dancing with women…knowing you would be punished when you returned home?"

"I didn't sign up for Arthur Murray classes," I laughed bitterly. "I signed up for Continuing Adult Education Dance Class, where it was just couples and two instructors. The instructors understood…hands on bicep, hand in hand and no other touching. I refused to partner the other women in the class, and the instructors were happy with my rules."

XXX

"I don't have female study buddies, I don't have classmates study here with me." It's self-preservation, I don't want Elena to discover Ana was here. She wears a short plaid pleated skirt, a stretchy scoop neck T-shirt and low heels. She kicks off her shoes and climbs up my bed, her pert little ass swaying as she moves. She turns over in the middle of the bed, propped up on her elbows, her legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. Fuck me…she's gorgeous. I just want to ravish her…but there is studying to do. I kneel on the bed and blanket her body. I kiss her slowly and deeply before I haul her off the bed…tossing her backpack to her. "Library now, or we have an extended study session in human kinesiology."

We walk hand in hand to the Boston Library to research and study. It's a glorious fall day. Ana's petite hand fits like it was made for my hand. We stop studying at the top of every hour and kiss madly in the stacks where no one can see us. It's getting late and Ana holds my hand. "Let's buy an impromptu picnic. We can go to the Charles River and watch the sun set." I whisper in her ear. "Next Saturday, when we're practicing on the river, I want you there to watch me... jumping up and down on the riverbank cheering me on."

"Always," she said, her fingertips sliding from my hair down my jawline, her pouty little mouth rising to meet mine. I groan, losing myself in her soft, sweet warmth.

I wake at sunrise – but it is Seattle, not Boston. I wonder if Ana will ever go to Boston with me. I need a week to explain my life there. Maybe I can show Ana the quad at Harvard, crewing teams on the Charles River, my favorite coffee shop, and sunset on Bare Hill Pond Beach. Maybe we'll stay in a five-star hotel room, eat gourmet dinners and fuck ourselves blind.