ANA

The next morning she was in a fog. The night had been a long one. The alcohol she'd consumed, the lack of sleep, and every emotion under the sun, it had left her fuzzy-brained and confused. What had happened? How had she… She'd kissed him. She'd kissed Christian. It didn't feel real. She might have thought it was a dream, if she had actually slept last night. But she hadn't, not really. She's spent the whole night in a perpetual state of nausea, again a combination of the alcohol and her emotions.

It was four o'clock when she gave up on the idea of sleep altogether. She pattered barefoot into the kitchen, opening the cabinet and removing the bag of expensive coffee from the shelf. She wasn't a coffee drinker, in fact, she hated it, but she was going to need it today. Thankfully she always had it in stock for Scott.

Scott.

She was being consumed by the guilt her actions had caused. God, she was an idiot. What was she thinking, going out alone last night? Breaking the rules? She never broke the rules! If he found out, there would be hell to pay in the form of welts on her ass and a body tensed to brinks of orgasms that would never be reached. She was sick of the punishments. She hadn't been punished this much in years. And it was easy to blame the recent string of them on Christian and his actions, but last night was all her. All she could do was hope and pray that Scott never found out about it.

She sneered at herself as soon as she finished the thought. Her sudden selfishness was appalling to her. All she was concerned about was avoiding punishments? What about disappointing Scott? Wasn't that the main issue here? That she'd done something she knew would upset him? And for what? Because he said she couldn't go to school? Because he wanted her at his side while what they'd worked so many years for finally came to full fruition? Was that so bad? Her stomach tightened in a little knot, but she dismissed it.

Did she feel better, now that she'd gone out and gotten drunk at a club by herself? No. No, it didn't help. Because that wasn't even something she was interested in doing! If she was going to break the rules, it should have been at least over something she actually felt was missing. Like going to school… She scoffed at herself. Get over it Ana, it's not going to happen. She needed to let that dream die.

With a sigh, she poured herself a cup of coffee, slowly mixing in some milk and a little sugar in order to attempt to make it palatable.

Going out and drinking would be the least of her problems if Scott ever found out she'd kissed another man. She couldn't imagine his reaction if he ever knew. She'd never kissed someone outside of Scott. He'd been her first and only everything up until last night. She'd never felt another man's erection pressed against her. No man had had his hands on her body. Now those things were no longer true.

She took a sip of the coffee, staring absently at the spotless countertop in front of her.

Christian's lips on hers had been so different. Ana enjoyed kissing Scott, there was no denying that. But he was always… urgent. His mouth always groped with authority, feeling what it wanted to, when it wanted to, with gruff, mauling need. Christian's lips were gentler. They molded to hers. They were firm and eager, but at the same time, soft and accepting. There was give and take with him. Not just take. Kissing Christian was...She absentmindedly touched her bottom lip gently with her index finger.

Snapping out of it, Ana scolded herself for once again getting lost in thoughts of kissing Christian. It was stupid. She was being so stupid. What she'd done last night was embarrassing, throwing herself at Christian like that. Men didn't like it when women took the lead, she knew that much. She was surprised he'd even allowed her the moments of kissing they had before she'd come to her senses. He should have been repulsed by her blatant, hussy-like behavior. Maybe he was just being nice since he knew she was drunk. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't thrown her off.

But. He didn't really seem to hate it. He got hard, right? That was the indicator, right? Sometimes Scott seemed to be mad at her, or seemed so indifferent, or seemed so… whatever. But Ana always knew that she had his approval because he was hard. He may have seemed unhappy, or angry, or aloof, or impassive, but when he took out his dick, it proved he was actually pleased with her because he was still able to get hard for her. And that was the important thing. If she turned him off, that was when they would have a problem. How could she please him if she couldn't get him aroused? It proved her value. Because if there ever came a time where she couldn't please him sexually, it would make her worthless.

She knew she would see him tonight, and she vowed to herself, right then and there, that she would be absolutely perfect for him when she did. It would be the way she would unknowingly make up for her indiscretion last night. She would prove her dedication to him by reaffirming to herself that she was his submissive. It wasn't much, and only she would really notice. But there was little else she could do.

Unless… She set down her coffee cup, taking a deep breath to clear her head. There was one thing she could do for him.

Breath play.

Since around the age of four, Ana had always had a fear of strangulation. Obviously no one wants to actually be strangled, but she had an active fear of it. It all started one night while having a dream of a big, calloused hand gripping her throat and squeezing until she couldn't breath. That first time, when she woke up, she could still feel the pain of it on her neck, the pressure on her windpipe, the wild heartbeat and heavy breathing that had accompanied the panic. It had felt so real in her dream, still felt real even after waking up. She'd heard her mom awake and yelling in the living room, then heard the front door slam. When it was quiet and she'd regained her equilibrium, she'd gone to Carla in tears, and told her about the dream, her voice even sounding funny when she talked.

She remembered being confused by Carla's reaction, as she'd just insisted over and over that it was just a dream. Ana had always thought that was odd. She knew it had to be a dream, because she'd woken up from it, right? But what she'd been looking for, and what Carla hadn't really offered, was any comfort from the nightmare. She just seemed relieved that Ana knew it was a dream. Ever since, she'd spent the occasional night reliving the nightmare, reliving the full panic consuming her mind and body, but it had never felt as real as it had that first night. She couldn't stand the feeling of things touching her throat. When choker necklaces were all the rage, she couldn't even bear the thought of wearing one.

So when Scott had brought up the idea of 'choking' and what he described as 'breath play', she had be adamant that it was a hard limit. Over the years, after he gained her trust, and she'd allowed him access to her throat. First, gentle touch; kisses, licking. Eventually she trusted him to touch her, then with more time, collars, as well as to actually increasing the pressure of his fingers around her. The furthest she'd ever allowed him to go was holding her throat in his hand with a wide, firm but gentle grasp. Never actually compressing, never choking. That was a step too far.

And breath play was steps beyond that. It's name was actually somewhat misleading. Because it wasn't about breathing really; it was about blood flow. It was about restricting blood flow to the brain, causing lightheadedness to increases sensation during sex, and then releasing the pressure, causing a rush of oxygen to the brain, resulting in an intense euphoria. On paper, it made sense to her. But in reality, all she could do was close her eyes and imagine that big, calloused hand on her neck and panic.

But, for him, now, could she do it? Could she take breath play off her hard limits in order to prove trust and dedication to him? Could she gift him that in order to reaffirm her commitment to him and their relationship in the face of what she'd done, had been doing, behind his back with Christian? Scott didn't deserve her sneaking around behind his back, talking with Christian, accepting gifts, seeing him. But to have kissed him? Let him touch her? It was so disrespectful. And it was eating at her. Would participating in breath play with him ebb that guilt she was feeling? She did trust him not to take it too far. She had to. Otherwise...

She sighed, shaking her head. She was such a mess.

She forced the again recurring thought of Christian Grey's lips to remain fleeting in her mind. He hadn't earned this space in her mind. Scott deserved better than this from her. Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight, strengthening her resolve. He would come over tonight, she was sure. And when he did, she would be ready and willing to give him the dedication he deserved from her.

TAYLOR

He pulled his hood up, his thumb and forefinger pinching the edge and tracing it down on both sides, from the top to the neck. When they met with the strings, he grabbed hold, tugging them, causing the whole thing to wrinkle and tighten, further obscuring his face from view. He had on sunglasses as well, though the sun was dipping down and would be gone in mere minutes.

He's debated wearing gloves, the kind with the fingertips cut off, but he wanted to feel it. He wanted the pleasure of feeling his fist connect with its target.

His clothes were baggy, helping to obscure the exact shape of his body. And black. He was in all black, including the neoprene ski mask that was covering the bottom half of his face.

It had been weeks now that he'd been trying to get someone tangible on Kennedy, something to nail his ass to the wall. But nothing. No other victims in his past. He had worked for another school system in another town for 20 plus years, but had had a proper letter of resignation and exemplary references from them to Montesano High. His file said he was simply moving on to a more lucrative position, which when Taylor had tracked his earnings, had proven to be the truth. He'd hoping to find something—a scandal. A school having caught him and covered it up, something, anything to prove he'd done this before and to help prove he'd done it again. But nothing. He was squeaky fucking clean. So Taylor started looking into anything else he could to find dirt on this guy. He already knew the company was clean; Mr. Grey's people would have fully vetted it before offering to buy it up. So he followed up on Kennedy's personal financials—tax information- anything. But, again it was a dead end. He called in favors and dug into his past, looking for inconsistencies, anything to show he'd ever had something covered up, or something to cover up. He looked for sealed adolescent records, but there were none. He tried everything he could think of to find skeletons in Kennedy's closet. He'd practically hired an excavation crew to go blindly digging, leaving no stone unturned, but there was nothing to be found.

And the longer Taylor went without finding anything, the more pissed off he got. Did this guy just not leave a trail, or was he truly clear of touching anyone else besides Ana? Hell, he couldn't find any real trail on Ana. Nothing to connect them prior to her eighteenth birthday besides the fact that he was her teacher. The one thing he did find, which was nothing incriminating, was a picture in the high school yearbook that Taylor had pulled from the Montesano Public Library. There they were together, a young, skinny little Ana standing next to Kennedy for some Science Club he was in charge of. She was working on something, surrounded by test tubes and other chemistry related paraphernalia, and Scott was leaning over the lab table, pointing at what she was doing. Taylor wished he could say there was something about the picture that seemed off. A closeness between the two, maybe an inappropriately places hand, or look. Something that could have sent a red flag to someone along the way. But the truth was, there wasn't. It just looked like a science teacher teaching a student.

When nothing illegal panned out, Taylor had hoped to find a trail to other legal women, something to go off of. Maybe someone he'd kept in contact with from his past, or at the very least, another woman to bring to Ana and say—hey look, the asshole was sleeping with someone else while he was with you, he's a liar—just… anything that might prompt her to get away from him.

He hadn't told Grey, but he had someone watching Kennedy, so he knew when he was going to Ana's place, or when she was going to his. And it was fucking often… no pun intended. He'd roll up in his nice Beemer, a smirk on his face as he walked confidently into her building, coming back out hours later with a shit-eating grin, usually minus his jacket and tie, hair unruly, looking well worn.

Sometimes, because he was oblivious to being watched, he would get bold and fuck with her out in public. He'd take her in a car or in a hallway. Sawyer, the guy he had watching her, had pulled footage from both his and her apartment's elevators and cringed when he saw what he got up to with her in there. It seemed Kennedy had a thing for the emergency stop button. He liked to use the elevators as his own personal quickie-suite. And Ana always just held completely still and took it; let him do whatever he wanted to her. Taylor couldn't bear to watch, and knew Grey wouldn't want him to, but Sawyer had reported Kennedy had once eaten out her asshole, honest to god, her asshole, in the elevator. Just ordered her to turn around and put her hands on the railing while he lifted her skirt, spread her cheeks and went to town. Jerked himself off while he did it, then came in her ass. Smacked it, put her skirt back down and followed her into her place, where he spent the next three hours. What do you do to a woman for three hours after you've already eaten her asshole, then fucked it? Christ.

Taylor had a daughter. His Sophie was still a kid, still just his little baby girl. But some day, she would be a teenager, and then an adult, and when she was forty and had lived enough of life to know how to make smart decisions, she could date and eventually find an educated and respectable man to marry. Forty-five. Ish. Fifty, maybe. …Anyway. He could not fathom what would happen if his baby girl was taken advantage of by one of her teachers. At fif-fucking-teen. And then to be held down for years on end, having her whole life stifled in order to keep her around to be his personal sex slave. To be available at every beck and call to service his dick, so he could take her on elevators and to eat her—Nope. Taylor couldn't even think those words in relation to his baby girl. No. One. Would. Ever. God, what he would do to anyone who ever touched his baby girl like that. He was almost salivating thinking of the possibilities.

Which made him really wonder about this Ray Steele guy. The background check showed he seemed like a good man- a former army man. Why didn't he do anything? Did he know? He couldn't know. But how could he not sense something was wrong? How could he not question why she wasn't going to college, why she was forgoing a college education to work as a secretary for her teacher who just so happens to quit the moment she graduates, then whisks her off to another city to work? There were so many red flags, the whole thing was wrapped in them and tied with a fucking red-flag-bow.

…So many questions. So few answers.

It had Taylor on edge for sure. Normally he liked his job. Grey was a good man. Relatively easy going on his staff. Professional and courteous with them. He kept his orders succinct and trusted Taylor to handle things the way he saw fit. He said his please and thank-you's to Gail, which went a long way in Taylor's opinion of him, biased or not, since Gail was his future wife. He didn't go out getting into trouble. He was as mature and responsible as a 27 year old could be. Maybe too much so. He too often kept himself from the rest of the world, never going out with friends for the occasional drinking binge. The guy barely went out at all. If anything, he invited people into his home where he could ensure nothing could sully his or GEH's name by being spread in a tabloid. He didn't go out schmoozing with loose women, throwing down hundreds like they were singles, drinking until he couldn't stand up. No, he stayed up at nights trying to figure out how to feed the poor, occasionally having his brother over for beers and a Mariner's game, and every once in awhile respectably sharing his bed with a woman, always seeing her off with a pleasant smile and a thanks-for-a-good-time.

Taylor kept fit exercising daily with the boss, he was well paid and, even though it was the staff quarters, he wanted for nothing regarding the quality of life at Escala. He had his baby girl, the apple of his eye, a good woman, a good job… a good life.

But ever since Ana Steele had entered Christian's life, things had changed. His boss was, to put it nicely, preoccupied with Miss Steele. And this preoccupation had pushed him to actually pursue the girl, who seemingly did not want to be pursued. Not that that stopped the boss. Taylor wasn't surprised. If the boss saw something he wanted, he got it. Truthfully, Taylor thought it was funny that Miss Steele even put up a fight. Most women would happily get on their hands and knees to be with him. It was nice, refreshing to see someone cause him to lose a little edge of that well-deserved ego for a change.

Of course, Taylor only felt that way before. Before he found out why Miss Steele refused him, what Miss Steele was really up to. And now he was fully sided with the boss. Now he wanted to do anything he could to get her to see the light of day, to get her away from the scumbag she worked for, and let the boss help her. But that was proving much more difficult than he'd hoped it to be.

And now he was just fucking annoyed. And that consistent annoyance was what brought him to the back of Ana's apartment building at sunset, his face covered in a ski mask, waiting. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he was tucked discreetly out of sight. When he first started entertaining the idea of doing this a couple of days ago, he'd dismissed it right away. Then, it had come back, and he thought about it a little longer. Then, over the course of a couple of days, he started forming a plan. If he were to do it, how would he do it? Where would the best location be? Where would he hide? How would he dress? What exactly would he do?

And once the plan was formed, he realized it wasn't enough to just fantasize about doing it. Of course he would go through with it. It was far too enticing not to. He did debate having someone else do it for him, but the temptation of doing it himself was far too strong to consider it for long.

When he'd gotten the update from Sawyer that Kennedy was at Miss Steele's late this evening, he knew he could make his move under the cloak of impeding darkness. So he'd told the boss he needed a couple hours off, to call Reynolds if anything came up. He never asked for little segments of time during the day, so Grey had looked at him a little curiously, but had nodded in agreement. He hadn't told anyone where he was going, what he was planning to do. Gail didn't even know he was off the clock.

The back door to her building swung open and Kennedy stepped out, looking his usual after spending time with her. He was oblivious to his surroundings as usual. He never knew someone was watching him, never got that feeling some people get, never stopped to glance around and see if he was being seen. It was quite ballsy, actually, the way he just walked in and out of Ana's place like he owned it. Well, he did fucking own it, didn't he? Taylor wondered why he was so confident about seeing her. Was it just because he'd gotten away with it for so many years that he'd gotten complacent? Or did he just not really care anymore since Ana was legal and had no friends or family around to even question her? Because Taylor was sure there was a time, when Kennedy was still Ana's teacher, that he was very careful about how he went about seeing her.

With his back to Taylor, Kennedy walked to his car, whistling lowly to himself, his key ring hooked around his finger as he swung it in circles.

He never saw Taylor coming.

With a tap on his shoulder, Kennedy's whistling was cut short as he pivoted to see who was trying to get his attention. He only had a second to react, a second he used up letting his eyes go wide in surprise at the masked man behind him.

A second later, he was on the ground.

Taylor grunted as he shook out his hand, the pain radiating from his knuckles where they'd landed the blow to Kennedy's jaw. Taylor cocked his head to the side, his neck cracking in satisfaction, a deep sense of true gratification coursing through his veins. Fuck, that was nice.

He looked down at Kennedy, laid out on the ground, completely out cold.

Well fuck, he hadn't planned on knocking the guy unconscious. Just, you know, leaving a mark. Rolling his eyes at the situation, he sighed, then looked around. He crouched down, smacking the asshole on the face a couple of times, trying to bring him back around. After the second smack, he put a little extra juice behind the third one, accidentally-on-purpose hitting the part of his jaw he's punched. Kennedy finally moved, then groaned, so Taylor stood up, leaving him to it.

He moved swiftly back behind the building, removing his mask, lowering his hood and removing the sunglasses, before making his way around the building and back to where his car was parked a couple of blocks over. It wasn't until he got to the vehicle that his phone vibrated, and when he looked at it, he saw a text from Luke Sawyer.

Hey boss, I'm the one watching his shit, I should have been the one with the pleasure of that hit.

Taylor smirked, tossing his gear into the backseat before replying.

Boss' perk.

Christian

Christian clenched and unclenched his fists, just once, staring blankly ahead. On the outside, he looked almost completely impassive, like he was just leisurely relaxing in his living room. But on the inside, he was a chaotic mix of wonderful and terrible emotions.

Sometimes it was hard to be such a logic-focused person. It was hard to have his brain telling him why Ana had bolted, talking himself down, explaining why it was reasonable to expect her to be so cagey. It was very hard to be able to extract himself from the emotional side of things and understand on a logical level why Ana behaved the way she did. It was hard because his emotions were also running rampant, and he wanted to be thrilled that she kissed him, be furious that she left, be upset, be hurt, be… everything. But in the moments when he could let himself run with those varied emotions, his brain was always there to eek it's way into his emotional sandstorm and say, "Hey buddy, calm down. You know what she's been through, what she's still going through. This will not be an easy road, and at this point and time, you can't hold these kinds of things against her. You need to be patient."

But being patient was not a thing Christian Grey did well. Especially when it meant having to constantly take steps back from a situation as fucked up as this. How he wished he could swoop in and physically remove her from this situation, giftwrap her an apartment, a car, an education, and whatever else she wanted, and scrub Scott Kennedy from the face of the earth so she never had to worry about him again.

But this situation was not that easy. Kennedy's hooks were in her so deeply, she didn't even realize he was a bad force in her life. If he wanted any chance of actually helping her, of pulling her out of all of this and helping her find her own place in life, he needed to keep working on it gently, allowing her to come to terms with what Scott really was on her own. He could tell her that he was a pedophilic, manipulative asshole until he was blue in the face, but she would never be able to move on and be healthy until she made those realizations for herself. She had to want to get out.

She needed therapy, he was still adamant about that. Luckily Taylor had been able to easily locate his old therapist, John Flynn, who was still located here in Seattle. Christian had spoken to him and briefed him of the situation. He had agreed to be on standby for the moment when Ana was ready to talk. He'd urged Christian to get her in as soon as possible. But Christian knew he didn't have enough leverage to be trying to force her into anything. Their relationship was still tenuous as best. He could not lose her during some self-proclaimed valiant attempt at strong arming her into getting help. He needed to keep paring down her outer wall, keep breaking her defenses until he not only gained enough of her trust, but also raised enough questions in her to spark a desire for her to seek answers about the nature of her relationship.

So in the meantime, Christian was stuck in limbo, not knowing how much was too much, not knowing what to trust regarding her reactions to him, to them. He'd unsuccessfully tried communicating with her this morning via text, deliberately omitting the fact that they'd kissed in his message and opting to just ask how she was doing, if she needed anything. Even though it made his chest swell (among other parts of him) he knew better than to provoke Ana with the memories of them kisses. It happened, and he was happy it happened, but he wouldn't pressure her about its meaning. Right now, he would hang it in the back of his mind as a reason to possibly have hope for them in the future, but it wasn't the thing to focus on. He knew that. Logically. Because that was the way his damn brain worked.

The elevator dinged, announcing an arrival and pulling him from his thoughts. The doors slid open and revealed Taylor, who was looking down at his right hand, flexing and unflexing his fingers before shaking them out. He was oddly dressed in dark sweats and a hooded sweatshirt, similar to his normal workout clothes, though Taylor rarely wore long sleeves while running. He seemed to be carrying some other small items of clothing, and sunglasses. Christian had given him a few hours off to- what? Go to the gym?

He finally looked up from his hand to see Christian sitting on the sofa watching him, and he actually startled a little. "Sir," he said immediately. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Taylor," Christian said slowly, watching him curiously.

Taylor stood a little straighter, albeit with hesitation, something which was again very abnormal. "I'm back. If you need anything…" he trailed off.

Christian just nodded, and with that, Taylor turned and made his exit from the main apartment to the area he shared with Gail. Christian shook his head dismissively, and then he too left the living room to go get some work done, and try, but most likely fail, to figure out what he would do or say the next time he got the chance to speak to Ana.