Thank you to all of those that have review and/or followed and favorite my story!
This is a very short chapter, but because of my author's note below, I wanted to get it out as soon as possible.
A couple of reviews have told me that there's a similar story out there with Ana working as a stripper. I had no idea – and hopefully I and the author of the other story will take our stories in different directions from that point on.
I would like to send a thank you to the guest-reviewer that pointed me in direction of that story (New Colored Shades, if anyone would like to check it out, I intend to once I'm done with my story).
I've skimmed through it (I didn't want to read it and subconsciously be inspired to take my story in the same direction) But I think we have different plots in mind for our stories, at least judging by the parts I did read.
I've also sent a PM to the author of that story to assure him/her about my honorable, non-plagiarizing intentions.
Instead, the inspiration to this story comes from a story from another fandom completely. The story I'm talking about is B Cardoso's Sex or Love, written for the Gilmore Girls fandom. It's the most amazing story I've ever read and if my story would turn out to be even half as good – I would be beyond pleased!
If you like Gilmore Girls and the pairing Jess/Rory – you most definitely should read it – it's amazing!
For all eyes to see – Chapter 2
Anastasia Rose Steele. I say the name quiet to myself. Anastasia. I like that name. I like the way the syllables rolls of my tongue. Anastasia.
I open the folder Welch handed me to look over the information again. 21 years old. Both parents dead. She graduated high school with honors and her SAT results are quite honorable as well. No mention of any further studies.
She works daytimes as a waitress in a café not far from where I work and at nights and weekends she works as a stripper at Midnight Madness. She has a bank account with only a couple of hundred dollars on it and a savings account containing quite an impressive sum.
I keep reading, her official records of jobs, education and economic status was rather easy for Welch to dig up. Her personal life and likings on the other hand is tainted with the word: unknown.
Religious affiliation: unknown
Political affiliation: unknown
Sexual orientation: unknown
Relationships: unknown
That one little word bothers me. I hate not knowing. And ever since I saw the delicious Miss Steele up on that stage I can't seem to get her out of my mind. Three days have passed and still, every time I close my eyes – there she is. Dancing, teasing, looking right at me with those amazingly blue eyes.
I've been looking over the little information Welch was able to find about her more times than I like to admit. Yesterday I found myself sitting in a meeting wondering what she'd look like performing that dance for me, only me, and out of her little bubble, aware of me watching her. That never happens! I take my work seriously and I've never lost focus in a meeting like that before.
It's like she's got me under some kind of spell and I'm driven by the need to see her again. I need to know if she will look just as fantastic and beautiful when I'm not under the influence of alcohol.
I put the folder down and grab the phone. "Andrea, cancel or post-pone all meetings for the rest of the afternoon" I can practically see my secretary's jaw drop as she answers: "Yes, Mr. Grey"
In the rare occasions I decide to take the afternoon of, it's usually done with meticulous planning to make sure things run smooth while I'm away. But the info clearly stated that Anastasia works daytime at that café. I can't wait until I'm done with my meetings for the day and risk her not being there.
Hopefully it'll turn out I had a severe case of beer-goggles at the club and I can carry on with my life without having her dancing around in my mind 24/7.
I'm a fucking idiot. What the hell am I doing here? I lean my forehead against the wheel. I've never sought out a woman like this before. Usually, they come to me. And usually, due to the nature of our relation, they are well aware of what they are stepping into.
Not that that's a problem. I'm not entertaining the thought of making her my submissive. Not seriously at least. I can't have her as a submissive, knowing that a large part of the male population of the appropriate age in Seattle has seen her naked. Probably including my own brother, as I'm guessing that wasn't his first time visiting that club.
It just wouldn't work. I'd be fucking ready to be committed if I ever thought for even the split of a second that she could be my submissive. No. I just have to see her again, sober and in the clear daylight – that's all.
I take a deep breath to steady myself as I step out the car and head towards the entrance of the café. I feel like a teenager; skipping work just to sit at a café and ogle a girl I've never even spoken a word to.
If she's to become my submissive she has to quit her night job. What the fuck? No. I shake it away as I step through the doors. That's not going to happen.
Her smile hits me like an earth-quake the second I step through the doors. I'm pretty sure I can feel the ground shaking beneath me. She's even more glorious when she smiles.
"Welcome" She says as she passes by me with a tray full of dishes in her hand.
I murmur something incoherent as I go to take a seat at the counter. I'm never incoherent.
As soon as I'm seated and the perky blonde behind the counter comes to take my order I realize I'm at the wrong seat. My beautiful seductress is waiting on the tables, while the counter is cared for by her co-worker.
I can't change seats now. It'll be too obvious. I curse inwardly; I really wanted to get a chance to talk to her. I should have weighed my seating-options more carefully before I sat down. I repress a sigh as I order a coffee and a blueberry muffin.
"Coming right up!" The blonde informs me, her voice every bit as cheery and perky as her appearance.
As the blonde places my order in front of me with her best service-smile plastered to her face, I see a haze of brown hair in the corner of my eye as my reason for coming here leans her upper-body against the counter a few steps away.
Sipping at my coffee, I steal a glance at her, trying not to make it too obvious I'm watching her, and my breath hitches in my throat. She's even more attractive than I remembered. She looks happier than she did at the club, more present in the moment and her smile makes her eyes spark, making them, if possible, even more amazing.
Her co-worker says something I can't hear and the most beautiful sound I've ever heard fills the space around me. She giggles. I close my eyes as the sound fills me with a feeling I don't quite recognize. I would give anything in the world to be the one making her sound like that.
Get a grip, Grey! She's not just a cute waitress…No, she's far beyond cute… She's a stripper. She receives money for displaying her body in all its nakedness to anyone who's willing to pay. And I would, without blinking, give her all the money I'm possession of to see that nakedness again – displayed for my eyes only.
Still watching her and her co-worker out of the corner of my eye, I see the blonde leaning forward over the counter, whispering something in Anastasia's ear. The gesture tells me they're more than just co-workers, probably more like close friends.
Sexual orientation: unknown, the words from the info-sheet flashes through my mind. No. That can't be. She can't be. I turn my head to look at them more closely. Their heads are close together, both of them leaning over the counter as the blonde is talking in a hushed voice and my beautiful brunette is listening eagerly. Neither of them seems to take notice of my looking at them.
Are they lovers? I feel a pang of jealousy in my chest, somewhere close to where my heart would have been, have I had one, and my eyes narrow as I take a closer look at the blonde's appearances. She's pretty in a generic kind of way, strawberry-blonde hair, green eyes and a body with curves in all the right places… But she's nothing compared to Miss Anastasia Steele.
No. No one I've ever seen is anything compared to Miss Anastasia Steele. I need to know if she's even into men. I'm driving myself crazy over a part-time stripper that might or might not be gay.
There's a rustling of chairs somewhere behind me in the almost empty café and immediately, Miss Steele disengages herself from the intimate conversation with her co-worker and heads over to clear the table. I hear her wishing the leaving customers a nice day and her voice is like music to my ears. She has to be into men. She has to. Otherwise, I'll take it upon myself to convert her. I have to make this astonishing woman mine.
Making a stripper into your submissive? Really, Grey, are you serious?
Oh, God….Am I?
"Do you want a refill?" I flinch momentarily as the blonde appears in front of me, tilting her head to the side.
"No, thank you" I have to get out of here. I have to clear my thoughts. I can't seriously be considering asking a stripper to be my sub. I don't even know if she's into the lifestyle.
I leave enough money on the counter to cover my tab and a generous tip before I practically flee out of the café.
