Just Breathe

by Mother of Pearl Fetish

What happens when Christian and Ana don't meet at the interview? What steps will he take when he first sees her at graduation? What will change when he inadvertently injures her before he can introduce her to the Red Room of Pain? 2015 Nominee - Fanatic Fanfics Multifandom Awards.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – First Weekend Together
Very early Saturday morning, June 18, 2011 (Christian's 28th Birthday)
Christian's POV

"Rise and shine, pretty girl," I wake Ana with kisses all over her face and neck. "There's no time to shower. Just wash your face, brush your teeth. I sent Taylor to your condo to get clean clothes and toiletries. Come back out and I'll do your hair. We have to be out of here in fifteen."

"Where are we going?" She stumbles off to the bathroom, still wearing nothing but my shirt…and damn it looks good on her.

"Soaring, one of my favorite sites is 60 Acre Park in Redmond. It's about 30 minutes from here. I checked the weather and thermal reports. It is a perfect morning for soaring. Taylor will drive us there. I made arrangements with people I know at the Seattle Soaring Club. We will have a tow pilot and glider waiting for us there. It's worth the yearly fees I pay to be able to soar when I have time, since my schedule is so erratic." I stare out the window at the dawning day. The sky, pre-sunrise, is the pink like when Ana blushes. I hope the soaring sky is the blue of her eyes. I want to share this experience with the most gorgeous girl in the world.

XX

"What do you think of soaring?" I asked.

"It was interesting when we were attached to the tow line, but when it dropped and we were there suspended in the air, in the quiet…" Ana said. "It was the best time I've ever had. How did you know it would be a good day for gliding?"

"The sunrise was bright and I called the site for weather updates. The perfect soaring day has a sky the color of your eyes and big puffy well-defined white clouds. There's a whole science to it if you'd like me to teach you." I offered.

"I'm not sure about that, but it was great fun." Ana smiled.

"Would you do it again?" I asked. She nodded and I kissed those perfect pink lips. Then I kissed them again.

Ana's POV

"Breakfast was delicious," Christian practically wolfed down his whole grain waffles with strawberries, bacon and scrambled eggs. He had to make his own coffee; I'm not sure how to run the unit which looks like it came out of a small coffee shop. I was hungry too, but I ate about one-third of what he ate and I'm stuffed. I can tell he's pleased I cleaned my plate. I haven't figured out his food issues yet. He must have them if they are a rule in the contract. I put our dishes in the dishwasher and turn to look at his gorgeous face. He holds out his hand to me and I take it, letting him pull me into his arms.

"Did this morning count as a third date?" His voice is husky.

"Oh yes," I smile. "I'm very sure it counted as a third date." I hold up three fingers – "Charlie Tango, dinner dancing," I put one finger down. "Dinner, discussion, movie and making out." I put down another finger. "Soaring with you in a glider and breakfast. I'm sure that's three." Instead of putting my finger down…I point at his bedroom.

He grabs my hand and nibbles that finger. "Let's go do something neither of us has done before. I've never had sex with a woman in my bed; and you have never been bedded, to coin a phrase from your Victorian authors. You know more about my playroom than I know about vanilla sex. We're going to learn how to be intimate with one another." Christian scooped me up into his arms and carried me off to his bedroom.

Grace's POV

Taylor said Christian was in his bedroom; and then he retreated after informing me Christian was not alone. Before I step away from Christian's room and head for the main room, I hear Christian say "You can wear something of mine if there isn't anything appropriate in your suitcase."

I'm embarrassed. I can't ask Taylor the details of who is in Christian's bedroom and prepare myself. Why didn't I call before I came over? He is not alone. Of course he is not alone.Christian is beautiful and bright and talented. Now it seems he's found someone. Please let his guest want more than his money. Please let his guest want more than the beautiful face and strong body. I want to go...I don't want to embarrass him...but if I leave now...will he take that as a sign that I disapprove? He's so private...I don't want to intrude. I should just be grateful Christian has found someone, he's been alone for so long.

Cary thinks he left Harvard because of a shattered relationship he couldn't talk about. We thought loneliness drove him to succeed so fast and so amazingly in business, like he was trying to prove a point to someone who rejected him. We haven't seen or heard of anyone in his life ever. Oh God! Is this a one-night stand that's going to be in the papers? He's so private…will he be shattered by bad press? He's never confirmed or denied he is gay. We all thought he was gay, but celibate. I love Christian. I have loved him from the moment I set eyes on him in the emergency room. He had boundaries as a child. I learned to accept his distance and tried not to be hurt by it. I'm sorry God! I'm a selfish woman. I have beautiful children and I want beautiful grandchildren.

"Mom," Christian kissed my cheek warmly.

I am astonished. I usually receive cool, polite, perfunctory kisses on the cheek.

"Good afternoon! Would you like coffee? We always have a pot of coffee going in the kitchen or in the Security Office. Do you have time to stay? I wish you would, I'd like to introduce you to my guest." He hesitated. "My guest means a lot to me."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your plans, Christian," I murmured. "I gave Elliott a lift to SeaTac this morning. He's gone off to Barbados to see some girl before you refurbish some company you just bought."

"The girl is Katherine Kavanagh, daughter of Keaton Kavanagh, owner of Kavanagh Media," Christian explained.

"Well, he's very coy about where he met her; I don't think they've known each other very long." I don't want to disapprove, but Elliott needs to quit playing the field and have a long term relationship. "Anyway, Elliott said you were in town until this deal you are working on concludes. So, I thought I would drop by and see if you were available to come to brunch tomorrow? Mia is home from Paris and she's dying to see you! We need to celebrate your birthday!"

"Where does Elliott meet all his blondes?" Christian prevaricates. "Ah, here's my guest now."

I swallowed, Oh Lord, don't make me blush thinking about how I almost walked in on him...them! I slowly turn and see a pretty, petite brunette with beautiful blue eyes. A girl...a pretty girl...wait! THE PRETTY GIRL he rescued last Saturday...look at the way they look at each other. I have to go home and tell Cary... he has to hear this from me. There was something to that graduation picture after all!

Christian reaches for her hand and pulls her close to him. He puts his arm around her shoulder and tucks her into his side. "Anastasia, this is my mother Grace Trevelyan Grey, you met her at the hospital last week." Christian introduced us again. "Mom, this is Anastasia Steele."

"Please call me Grace," I shake her left hand when I remember her right hand is in a cast. "I was just asking Christian to come to brunch tomorrow to celebrate his birthday."

"Please call me Ana," she is startled. "Tomorrow's your birthday?"

"Actually," Christian admits, "it's today. It's one of the reasons we went soaring this morning. It was a happy birthday present to myself. Mom, Ana and I would love to come to brunch tomorrow, but I'd rather wait until Elliott is back in town. The young woman he went to see in Barbados is Ana's roommate, Katherine Kavanagh. We should invite her also."

"Oh," I started laughing. "WSUV graduation valedictorian, Ana, roommates, Elliott. It all makes sense now. Yes, we can put off celebrating your birthday until Elliott comes back. Grandmother and Grandfather Trevelyan want to celebrate with us…perhaps a barbeque at the house on Sunday after the Coping Together event?"

"With chocolate cake and just family?" Christian asked.

"With chocolate cake and Ana and Kate too if they would like to come." I laughed again. "You boys must bring Ana and Kate to the Coping Together event. I won't take no for an answer." I'm amazed he's standing there holding her, his arm around her shoulders. He's so…smitten…that's what he is…smitten! I can't wait to tell Cary!

Ana's POV

"Your mother is very nice," I tell Christian after he serves macaroni and cheese and offers a green side salad.

"My mother liked you." He pours wine for us.

"Really?" I blush. "I'm glad I met her before today; I would have been tongue-tied."

"Oh yes; you answered a question that's been bothering her for a long time." He sits down next to me at the breakfast bar.

"Really?" I frown, I'm confused.

"She always thought I was gay; celibate but gay. So does my father, my brother, my sister, my grandparents and half the illiterate universe that reads tabloids. I can't begin to tell you the number of men whose hearts I've broken. It's in the triple digits. Hell, if I was gay, I could have slept my way across Europe when I was younger. I started getting propositioned by men when I was sixteen. Even now, there's a six-foot tall, grey-eyed brunette who propositions me each time I see him at red carpet events. He insists we would make a stunning couple and there is no need for me to hide in the closet anymore."

"Why does your family think you are gay?" I can't process this revelation.

"For the same reason your friend Katherine had the photographer Levi ask me if I was gay. I'm twenty-eight and my family has never seen me with a woman. Other than our picture taken at graduation, I've never been photographed with a woman who wasn't family." Christian shrugged. "I can't begin to tell you the number of women whose hearts I've broken. There are several well-known actresses, musicians, artists and dancers who wanted to be the air quotes, girlfriend, of the great Christian Grey."

"You were never photographed with any of your submissives?" I ask.

"We didn't date; they were contractual employees. Taylor, the security team and Mrs. Jones met them because they were here on weekends. My family does not know about my lifestyle so they never met them."

"When was the first time you were propositioned by a female?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Fifteen," he answered a little too quickly. "I've never discussed my sexual initiation with anyone, except my therapist. I can't have a relationship with you unless we are honest with one another." He paused. "One of my mother's friends seduced me when I was fifteen. She was my Domme; I was her submissive for six years. I never dated in high school or college because my Domme was all I wanted, all I needed. If I had looked at another woman, she would have beaten the shit out of me."

"She seduced you when you were fifteen?" I squeak.

He paused and looked at me. "I was a horny fifteen-year old boy; she was a hot 40-year-old woman. My Domme taught me control. I quit drinking, quit fighting, got good grades, ate healthy, exercised regularly and went to Harvard."

"You said you saw your submissives on weekends…how did you see your Domme if you were at Harvard. It couldn't have been full time?" My head reels from his revelation.

"It was full time, although I didn't see her full time. When you are a submissive; you learn your actions reflect on your Dom/Domme. It's part of the respect/rules/punishment dynamic. The physical aspect of our relationship was easier when I was in high school. However, we were in daily communication while I was at college. While my classmates at Harvard experienced their new-found sexuality via dating and sexual orientation; I studied. My grades at Harvard were excellent. I kept busy with classes, studying and working out. It's probably why several of my classmates thought I was gay – I didn't cruise bars and have one-night stands. I emailed my schedule every morning when I awoke. She would give me lessons to learn before I returned home on break: ordering wines, setting tables, tasting various cuisines and serving a proper tea. I learned how to dance, strip and give massages. I learned the erogenous zones on a woman. I learned how to dress and coordinate a wardrobe. My Domme insisted I learn proper penmanship. I practiced my handwriting daily while I was in college. It's easy to let your handwriting skills lapse because of dependency on computers. She insisted I learn art history and art appreciation." He clarified. "My mother insisted my siblings and I learn to play a musical instrument, learn a martial art and learn a foreign language. I play the piano, kickbox and speak French. They are good accomplishments; but I learned a great deal, other than the BDSM lifestyle, because my Domme ordered it. My first submissive was my Domme. When I no longer wanted to be a submissive, she became my first submissive in order to facilitate my training. Now she vets submissives for me because I don't go to clubs, and I'm very private about my sexual lifestyle."

Oh my god…I feel like Elizabeth Bennet all of a sudden. I don't speak a foreign language; I don't play the piano; my dancing is a step above dismal; I can't draw; I don't know how to serve a proper tea…all I know is literature. What does Mr. Darcy want with me? I sip my wine and push my cold macaroni and cheese around on my plate.

"Eat, Ana," Christian commands. "I have a problem with people not eating properly."

"I'm really not hungry," I say. "Is this what D/s relationship would be like? You ordering me around?"

"I would provide boundaries for you; I would provide instruction for you; and I would provide discipline." He watches my face carefully. "You saw my rules; eating healthy is important to me. I have food issues. It's part of the reason why I donate to WSUV's farming division. It's part of the reason I own shipping companies – to move food from places where it is in abundance to places where it is not."

"Boundaries…instruction…discipline…" I pause and put my thoughts into words. "I make the decisions about my life. I'm not a slave, a servant or a nun…I don't take orders. I have issues about people giving me orders and expecting me to blindly follow them. I have issues about people thinking they are the boss of me. I'm sorry, Christian; I told you…I won't be micromanaged by someone who doesn't know me. I know so little about your sexual lifestyle. Last night, this morning…I had minimal frame of reference for it."

"But you are learning and you're not scared?" He asked.

"Was sex pleasurable for you when you first started," I ask; deflecting again.

"I was a horny fifteen year old boy having sex with a hot 40-year-old woman. It was light bondage and a lot of the Kama Sutra in the first few months. Then, she introduced me to more aspects of the lifestyle. But that aspect of our relationship is over and has been over for years. Actually, our relationship was the reason she divorced. Her husband found out about us, hospitalized her and then divorced her, leaving her penniless. I felt guilty about our relationship and never touched her again." He shrugged.

"Is her divorce the reason you are monogamous?" My inner goddess unrolls a list of questions…unfortunately, a lot of them sound like they are spoken by a jealous girlfriend.

"Yes and no. I don't like to share. Part of my reason for monogamy is that my biological mother was a whore. Part of it is because my adoptive parents are in a loving monogamous relationship. Part of my reason is her divorce." He is heart-breakingly honest. "When I dropped out of Harvard, my parents were appalled. She believed in me - in my abilities and gave me the startup money for my business. I repaid the money I borrowed. Because of her financial situation; I gave her financial support to start her salon. I felt I owed her. She's created an exclusive chain of salons and spas. It's not easy to be a trophy wife with minimal skills one day and morph into a successful business woman the next day." He paused again. "She is now a friend and business associate. She met the rest of my submissives because they went to her salon for services or because she vetted them for me."

"Esclava Salon…where you sent Kate and me…where you send your mother, grandmother and sister… My mind reels. Is she the reason he knows how to do a blow out and fix hair? Of course…it was probably a series of lessons along with the massage and how to use a flogger. "So Elena Lincoln is your mother's friend who seduced you when you were fifteen? She was your first Domme and first submissive? Your family does not know about your sexual history with her? She is still friends with your mother? She is your business partner? She's met your submissives who used her salon? Does your family know you are in business with her? Is there more to your relationship?"

"Yes to all those questions. The only more to Elena and my relationship is that I consider her a friend but I've never been photographed with her either. I never attended social events as her escort; we never had our picture taken on the red carpet together. I had a lot of photographers who offered to make me the next runway model – complete with all the hedonism any young man could crave from either or both sexes. I have two clothing designers that would do bodily damage to each other if I agreed to be an elite model for their line of men's clothing, or at least agreed to a photo shoot. I've turned down a prominent doctor who wanted me to be a sperm donor for her rich clients. If I ever need money, I can just present myself at the doctor's office on a certain day at a certain time and be paid half a million dollars for ten minutes of my time. I keep telling everyone…it's just a pretty face – and to quote Robert Palmer – a pretty face don't make no pretty heart."

"Why don't you think you have a pretty heart?" I asked.

"Business – people will tell you I'm heartless, ruthless." He responded. "My personal lifestyle; it's not hearts and flowers."

We ate our lunch, giving one another intimate smiles and small brushes of hands and fingers. Kate had overnight guests who stayed for breakfast some times, but I'm hard pressed to remember if she was ever this easy and open with one of them. Mostly, I remember the ugly demented killer bunny pajamas she wears after a breakup or the gallons of ice cream and wine she consumed when she mentally kicked herself for a one night stand. Additionally, I remember scads of retail therapy after she managed to dump someone who was not worthy of her.

"So, about Esclava…" I began.

"My submissives went to the Post Alley salon. My mother, grandmother and sister go to the Bravern Center salon. There's been no mixing of my worlds." Christian said.

"Until today, when you introduced me to your mother," I said gently. "Knowing you sent your submissives to Post Alley explains some of the interested looks I got from the staff."

"You're not my submissive. It's been a week of firsts for me too." He said gently. "I've never pursued anyone. I've never taken anyone soaring before. I've never flown a young woman in Charlie Tango. I've never kissed anyone without an NDA in place first. I've never shown my playroom to a virgin. I've never made out while watching a movie. I've never slept an entire night without a nightmare. I've never slept with anyone. I've never had sex in my bed. I've never done vanilla sex. I've never introduced a woman to my mother. What are you doing to me, Anastasia Steele?" His eyes burn to my core and take my breath away.

"Vanilla sex?" I asked.

"Vanilla is sex without toys…furniture…restraints. It usually takes place outside the playroom…in beds…cars…elevators…lavatories on planes…" He explained.

"Is sex always like this for everyone?" I ask one of my famous deflective questions. Kate never ever told me that sex was THIS GOOD or THIS MUCH FUN or THIS ADDICTIVE!

"You mean us – last night and today?" Christian clarified.

I shrug, "Uhm….yes."

"It's never been like that for me," he said. "I've never felt – I've never experienced sex the way it was between us last night and today. It's a first for me also, Ana."

I look down at my fork. I can't discuss that contract right now. My stomach rumbles at the thought of phrases in it. I sip my wine and have a moment of clarity. "Is this one of those times when I would say yellow? I think distance from this conversation right now would be a good thing. It's not as overwhelming as your playroom, but it's still overwhelming." I asked.

"Yes, if a conversation becomes uncomfortable, please safe word. It doesn't mean we won't ever talk about the topic again. It means we'll step back and discuss the topic later." He assures me.

"Thank you for being honest with me." I pause.

"We can't be together if we aren't honest with one another." He shrugs. "My therapist would say that I've grown up today," His eyes dance merrily. "I see a therapist regularly. You know I have touch issues and nightmares. I have food issues. I have control issues. It all stems from when I was young and lived with my biological mother." He removes our table settings and puts them in the sink. The placemats and napkins go in a laundry basket.

"I'm less shocked that you have a therapist than anything else you've told me." Honesty is the best policy for us…especially if we are going to explore a relationship with one another. I'm curious and yet…appalled…by things he revealed in this conversation.

He stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes. "Do you have any idea how much I want you?" he whispers. "I want to kiss every single inch of your flawless skin. I want to brush your beautiful hair. I want to kiss your pouty pink lips. I want to watch your face when you orgasm. I want to lose myself in your blue eyes." He reaches up and gently runs his fingers down my cheek to my chin. "Please, come to bed with me. We started with the basics last night and this morning. I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea about what you're getting yourself into. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. " He pulls me up and into his arms so I can feel the hardness of his body against mine, this swift action taking me by surprise. He runs his fingers round the nape of my neck, winds my braid around his wrist and gently pulls so I'm forced to look up at him. He gazes down at me. "I don't know if our relationship will ever have a contract but there is one rule you have to agree to. You have to be monogamous with me. I can't deal with you not being monogamous."

"Yes," I whisper, before he kisses me senseless. His lips are demanding, firm and slow, worshipping my mouth. When I am cognizant again, we are in his bedroom. In between kisses, he peels our clothes off. We are naked, but not shy with one another. When he lifts me to put me on the bed, my legs wrap around his waist. He groans and kneels on the bed, placing my body diagonally. His kisses incite a response in my body. He grips my hair and his other hand slides down my spine and gently squeezes my behind. My body trembles at his touch, feeling his erection push against me.

"What's the matter?" Christian asked.

"I want to touch you, but I know that is not safe for us. I don't want to inadvertently touch you and give you pain, or cause you to give me pain." I said.

"Will you trust me to decide what to do so that neither of us are hurt?" He asks.

"Yes," I nod.

He steps away into his closet and comes back with the silver-grey silk tie. "Hold your hands in a prayer position." I do as he asks and he ties my wrists together, firmly, but not so tight it compromises my circulation. "That's not rubbing on your cast?" He asked.

"No, it feels different... but not painful." I explained.

He lifted me and laid me on the bed, his body pinning me to the mattress as he kissed me senseless. "Keep your hands over your head; hold tight to the edge of the mattress if you have to. You understand, don't move your hands." He asks.

'Yes," I say breathlessly.

"I was going to say one of our lessons will be how to keep you still – but I love the way your body reacts when I touch you." He murmurs, as he slips his fingers inside me. "You are so wet – do you want me as much as I want you?" I cry out as he does it again and again. He palms my clitoris and I cry out once more. He pushes inside me harder and harder still. "I can't wait any longer, Ana," he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. "I want you so much," he whispers and he slides into me and stills. When he eases out of me, he closes his eyes and groans. And he moves, faster and harder and deeper.

OMG, I had no clue sex felt like this. He pauses and moves my arms to around his neck. When he kisses me, his tongue mirrors the thrust and movement of his body. I cannot think…my body tenses…feeling him…feeling sensations growing in my core.

"Come for me Ana," he says like a fervent prayer.

I close my eyes and lose myself in the pleasure of his touch, the warmth of his voice and I climax… a thunderstorm pounding through my veins, lightening flashes behind my eyelids, earthquakes shaking my body over and over, radiating from my core through my limbs. I turn my face into my arm…

"No, baby; don't muffle your sounds; it turns me on to hear your soft little moans and sighs," he practically begs me.

…and I can't help myself…a loud vocal moan rips through me…making my body shake and tremble all over. I scream as he slams hard once, twice.

He shouts my name when he comes. Finally he stills. He rests on his elbows, his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. Our bodies still, our ragged breathing slows. He gently kisses my lips and slowly pulls out of me.

I whimper as he withdraws from me.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks, ducking out of my arms, reaching for my hands, untying me.

"No," I whisper. "I didn't want you to move. I wanted to stay like that forever."

"Oh," he smirks and then lays his head on my chest. "You liked that."

"Oh yes," I whispered, stroking his curls. "I want to do that again."

"Soon, baby," he turns me on my back, massages my shoulders and checks my left wrist. There's a lovely indentation of his tie...which I now recognize as the one he wore on graduation day. I turn on my side and snuggle into his body. He puts his arms around me and pulls me in close. "Rest baby," he whispers as I fall asleep.

XXXXX
Sunday Morning
Ana's POV

I will not admit this to him yet, but Christian is better than all the fantasies that literature ever gave me. He is better than Edward Rochester, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mark Darcy, Romeo, Richard Sharpe or Gabriel Oak. He is tall, handsome and sexier than any man should be allowed. I don't understand why he wants me other than I look like the type of women he's been with in the past. I'm crazy about him; craving his body, his touch. I never thought a physical relationship would spin my head so much. When he touches me, I lose my mind. Sane…my inner goddess snorts. I slip out of bed and head for the shower. Maybe a long hot shower will help me focus.

Christian's POV

I had planned to join her in the shower, hoping for some hot shower sex – but the beauty of her body stops me. I lean against the bathroom sink and watch. She was showering in profile, her rounded ass catching my eye first. I love caressing her ass. Her well-muscled and long runner legs make me smile with the memory of having them wrapped around my waist last night. Her pert breasts rise as she washes her hair. I am enamored with her breasts. I watch, able to contain my desires, until she reached for the body wash. I stepped into the shower, cupping and playing with her breasts. I kissed her bare shoulder, moving up, pressing my lips to her neck. Then she moaned and wiggled her ass against my groin. She turned toward me, her left hand holding her fingers of her right hand in their shower sleeve behind her back, trying not to touch me as our kiss grew in intensity. My tongue played with hers until I needed to nibble on her lower lip, making her giggle. I loved the way her naked body shook as she giggled. I turn her to the wall and lift her onto my pulsing, throbbing cock. I have one hand on a breast and one around her waist. Her hands join mine, holding on to me as I lift and stroke deep into her. I try to tell her that this is called a standing reverse cowgirl position but her moans tell me she can't think. She is lost in the feelings I create in her body. I can't think. I can't hold myself back any longer. I need to feel her climax around me. We both vocalize our pleasures, Ana moaning, me shouting.

After our steamy shower sex, we wrap up in thick fluffy robes. We linger over the breakfast Ana makes for us. I'm enjoying my coffee and she's enjoying her tea. Her hair dries in natural waves and curls while we read the Seattle Times. I sneak a kiss in every now and then until I can't wait any longer. I brush her hair one hundred strokes. She asks and I explain I like long brunette hair, but I prefer it in a braid in the playroom so hair doesn't get caught on toys or restraints. She explains she braided her hair for track meets because it was really distracting to leave it loose. Plus, it was so much easier when showering after meets.

We talk about her concussion from the accident. She still has a small lump in her head that is sensitive to touch. I carry her back to the bedroom, where I teach my beautiful girl the pleasures of oral sex and I teach her a little about orgasm denial before I claim her body again. She practically demanded I tie her hands so that she wouldn't touch me inadvertently. She hasn't really looked at my chest – her eyes have either been shut in ecstasy or looking deeply into my eyes. I love watching the emotions flow across her face – the pleasure – the concentration when she tries not to climax – her erratic breathing when she does climax. I am addicted to Anastasia Steele. I will never get enough of touching her skin. I will never get enough of smelling her hair. I will never get enough of losing myself in those blue eyes. I will never get enough of kissing that perfect rosy pink mouth. I have to ask Flynn what this is. I feel addicted. I want her more than I wanted to drink when I was fifteen. I turn her on her side and we spoon with one another, a sheet covering our naked bodies…and we sleep.

Elena's POV

Grace calls me to cancel our late lunch plans. We were going to celebrate Christian's birthday at their home in Bellevue.

"Is Christian still busy with Mergers and Acquisitions?" I try not to snipe; it aggravates Grace and I need to maintain a steady stream of information from her right now since Christian is being so difficult.

"No, Christian asked us to wait until Elliott gets home from Barbados. It seems Elliott is vacationing with the roommate of Christian's girlfriend."

"Christian's what?" I know my voice is pissed off and an octave higher.

"Girlfriend. He introduced me to her early yesterday afternoon when I stopped at Escala after dropping Elliott at the airport. Cary was right, that picture from the WSUV graduation was more than meets the eye." Grace's voice vacillates between proud and estatic.

"What do you think of her? Is she some little gold-digger who is going to ruin things for Christian right now?" There…hopefully I've planted a seed of doubt in Grace's mind about the girl.

"I meet her a week ago at the hospital. She fell and broke her arm and Christian brought her from the park to the ER. They've been seeing one another since then." Grace laughs. "I was so embarrassed…Taylor told me he was in bed when I stopped by. I went straight to his room, thinking he was ill, but Taylor said he wasn't alone. I almost walked in on them. Christian said they went soaring for his birthday. Ana had never been soaring before and he wanted to share it with her. I asked him to bring her to Coping Together. Her roommate and Elliott will be back from Barbados by then. Christian's grandparents want to meet her."

They were in his bedroom? He took her soaring? This is so much fucking worse than when he contracted submissive number eight without my input. This is a cluster fuck of billionaire proportions. What the hell is my boy doing? What the fuck is he thinking? People like us don't date. I need to call Kassidy and get her into the salon tomorrow. We'll get her primped and ready per Christian's specifications. We can't lose any time getting him to meet with Kassidy, sign a contract and hasten to the playroom as soon as possible. Helping someone who is hurt is one thing…stepping away from the lifestyle we enjoy is another! What the hell is my PI doing that he's missing the saving, soaring, sleeping shit that's going on? I'm so going to fire that fucker's ass – and blacklist him.

Grace finished prattling on about Christian's pretty new girlfriend. I just want to vomit. No, I want to beat some fucking sense into Grace and Christian. Now she reminds me about the next Coping Together meeting. I swear I will be there. We finish our conversation by promising to have lunch together soon. Fuck lunch with Grace…I'm calling Christian every day this week and dropping by the office at least two or three times. He can't step away from me, from our lifestyle. I won't let it happen!

Ana's POV

Christian and I slept until early afternoon. It took every ounce of my will-power to walk away from him today. I explained I needed to be home if Kate Skyped and if Ray called. I have laundry to do. The apartment needs cleaned before Ethan moves in. Ray will be here Thursday night and I have things to do! Christian was reluctant to let me go; and finally understood that I could not stay. I packed and prepped to go home. He brought a copy of the contract and rules to me. He suggested I research Wikipedia and prepare questions as I think of them. Taylor drives me home. Christian holds my hand and carries my tote. He checks the condo before he gives me a soft chaste kiss goodbye.

XX

If Christian Grey thought I would stop my research at Wikipedia...he seriously underestimated my GPA. Wikipedia gave me basic information. Perhaps Christian suggested it because he didn't think it would scare me off. The BDSM glossary told me a lot more than I wanted to know. I had to Google parts of the BDSM glossary and in instances I was repulsed beyond anything I know. I printed the BDSM glossary – and next to each term is a Yes, No or OMG NO. I'm squeamish! The further I go into the glossary – the more I wrote OMG NO. I'm not going to get that kinktionary out of my head! The more I see the different forms of BDSM punishment shown – the more forms of punishment I cross off Christian's list. Mr. Red-Room-Of-Pain Grey is going to be lucky to be able to spank me with his hand after I've seen the pictures of marks left on people with belts, whips and paddles.

Bruised asses from paddling – NO.
Caning – OMG NO.
Spanking with a tennis racket (for other items to be used for punishment) – NO.
Spanking with a wooden spoon – not even if I burn dinner!
Suspension – F NO.
Ropes, anything beyond hands or ankles tied – NO.
Chains – NO.
Nipple clamps with weights as punishment – OMG NO.
Binding breasts –F NO. OMG! How can purple breasts be a turn on?
Fisting (which I have to look up to see what it is) – OMG F NO to BOTH vaginally and anally EWWWWW! I so want those images out of my head!
Racks – OMG NO.
Outdoors, tied to a tree – OMG NO.
Cages – F NO.
Dog collars, cat costumes, pony play – NO.
Gags – NO.
Air supply compromised – OMG NO.
Leather masks – OMG NO.
Genital clamps – OMG NO.
Clothespins on crotches and other body parts – OMG NO.
Those things that look like gynecology instruments – OMG WTF NO.
That thing that looks like her mouth is propped open with dental implements – OMG WTF NO!

Eventually I Googled submissive images. They pretty much wiped out any hope Christian-I've-got-a-dark-secret-Grey ever had that I would willingly enter the Red Room of Pain. Only one out of every ten pictures showed a submissive experiencing pleasure…the rest had pain and agony etched upon their faces. I have to admit, it doesn't seem like my idea of foreplay. It certainly doesn't even seem like my idea of sex considering what Christian and I have done in the last 48 hours.

After seeing a page regarding a hot wax scene...and re-reading the contract about getting bits waxed...Christian's out of his bloody mind if he thinks I'm baring my girl parts to a total stranger to rip out my genital hairs. I can see from the Google images how many variations there are to having your bits waxed. Doesn't it itch when it's growing back in? How often do you have to wax? There are how to videos out there on how to give your woman a Brazilian wax. YIKES. I hate bikini waxes...I hate getting my eyebrows waxed...that man has totally lost his mind. Hot wax as punishment... F NO! Hot wax as pleasure…I don't think so!

The problem is...one of the better pictures leads me to a site called For the Love of a Submissive. The photo gallery there has pictures that take my breath away...and not all of them in a D/s breath control play. The picture of the naked submissive with her hands bound behind her back, blindfold on and sitting on the Dominant's lap while he's gently stroking her arm is probably just foreplay, but he's looking at her like she's heaven on earth. Maye she is if she lets him restrain and beat her. The picture of the submissive in a long dress and bound by ribbons from wrist to elbow is interesting, but she must be wearing a strapless dress. He must strip her, otherwise, how would she take off her clothes? The picture where the Dominant slowly peels off her stockings while kissing her thighs…yeah, it's pretty hot. The picture of her topless, lying on the coffee table, her hands bound with the tie from his suit, holding his drink while she's blindfolded…yeah, it kicks my brain into gear thinking about what he said about anticipation.

I print the gallery and sort them into Yes, No, OMG NO...and now I've had to add HOT as a description. The problem is…I remember his silver tie when he tied my hands and the memory is as hot as the heat coming off him when he touched me. My inner goddess needs gagged with his tie just so she shuts up and leaves me alone!

The more I research, the sadder I am. My further research explained a lot about how a man could be dominated. I am pissed off beyond words at Elena Lincoln for doing those kinds of things to Christian when he was a teenager. Suddenly the word contract takes on a murderous meaning for me. I want to hire an assassin to remove Elena from Christian's life. I don't care if people are gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, chaste, nymphomaniac, whatever...their sex life is their business, However…this is not normal…sex abuse is not acceptable…I don't care what Christian says. He was sexually abused by an older woman. He didn't experience standard teenage angst over discovering the other sex and dating. She robbed him of normal teenage sexual experiences. She lied by telling him the only way he could find a sexual outlet was through BDSM. From what I've read so far…one of the tenets of BDSM is that you do not touch children. You do not touch without permission. You cannot tell me that Christian knew what he was getting into when that woman touched him the first time. Safe, sane and consensual MY ASS! Seriously; I'm a novice at this stuff, but I want to beat the fuck out of her for touching him.

After a deep sigh, I email Christian. I hope he understands...

From Ana Steele
To Christian Grey
RE: Contract…
Noun ˈkänˌtrakt/
*a written or spoken agreement, esp. one concerning employment, sales, or tenancy, that is intended to be enforceable by law.
*an arrangement for someone to be killed by a hired assassin. – "smuggling bosses routinely put out contracts on witnesses"
*the declarer's undertaking to win the number of tricks bid with a stated suit as trump. – "South can make the contract with correct play"
*decrease in size, number, or range – "glass contracts as it cools"
synonyms: shrink, decrease, diminish, reduce, dwindle, decline

Sir, I believe my interest in researching your contract has diminished. Our time together has been...nice…I've enjoyed getting to know you.

Ana Steele
Appalled and Frightened Now

I go for a run to try to clear some of the images I saw from my head. My subconscious weeps in the corner...she worries about the lasting effects of that man on my psyche. My inner goddess keeps trying to make me run to Escala to demand some rough sex NOW. That damn man...I was perfectly happy...ok, I was an ignorant virgin before he got his hands on me. I regret my poor choice of thoughts, because now I can't get the memory of his hands, his hips and his mouth out of my head. I stretch to draw air into my lungs. I thought running would excise thoughts from my head, but I remember the kiss outside the elevator the night he took me flying in Charlie Tango. Now I'm winded, tired and need a shower. Crap! I'm going to need a cold shower if that man doesn't get OUT OF MY HEAD.

My head is still wrapped around Christian as I near the condo. I cool down by walking home the last few blocks. I have to be honest with Christian; his sexual lifestyle scares the hell out of me. Suddenly, I focus on a slim brunette sitting at the bus stop. She looks like she hasn't bathed or eaten in days. Is she homeless? Should I give her money? Should I give her food? She scowls when she catches me observing her. I feel guilty. I've profiled her because she is out of character for the area where we live. I decide to ask if I can help when I am surprised by the loud squeal of brakes. I turn to look in the direction of the sound. The bus-stop brunette stands in the middle of the street staring at the driver of a black SUV. He, in turn, stares back; intrigued by her. He doesn't realize he's at a dead stop in the street and about to be the cause of a major traffic accident. He whips out his cell phone and begins taking pictures of her.

The scheduled arrival of the bus blocks my view of the street. The girl is gone before I can offer help. The SUV driver slowly drives up the street, looking to see where the girl went. He's obviously talking to someone on speaker phone. Are they speaking about the girl? I get a good look at the driver and realize it is Sawyer in one of Christian's fleet of black SUVs. I met him in Christian's suite on graduation day. I shake my head. I fish the condo key from my short's pocket. I need a shower and I need a nap. I'm not stupid…obviously Sawyer's been assigned to follow me. Why, I do not know. I'm halfway up the steps to the front door when it dawns on me. She knows Sawyer…Sawyer knows her…I burst into tears. She's one of Christian's submissives. Why does she look so bad? Is she ill? Was she the last submissive? Did she take their termination badly? Does she know who I am? Is that why she glared at me.

I take a warm and soothing shower to settle my nerves. I'm cried out. Christian and I have to have a conversation. Things to discuss. I towel dry and braid my hair, putting on a camisole and sleep shorts. I've planned to unpack my room tonight. Then I will use the crates to pack as much of Kate's clothes from Ethan's room as possible. He can make arrangements to get them delivered to their parents' house. I plug my cell into the charger in case Ray calls. I turn the computer on to Skype in case Kate pings me. I'm not in a word-sparring mood with Christian. I'm not in a discussion mood either. I fire up my iPod and put it in the dock. I pull stacks of books out of crates, dust them and methodically go through them to ensure there are no notes, papers, bookmarks, etc. I arrange them in alphabetical order on the bookshelves.

Taylor's POV

What a cluster fuck! I'm working in the security office when Grey grabs car keys and races out of Escala in his R8; headed in the direction of Miss Steele's condo. I drop everything and race to the main SUV I drive. I punch in the GPS coordinates of the R8. Yes, he's heading for Miss Steele's condo. I call Sawyer. He's not answering. I call Ryan, he's not answering. If Grey gets to Miss Steele's condo and there is no one watching her – he's going to have bodyguard butts for dinner!

I try Ryan again; he answers and says he's headed to Miss Steele's right now. Sawyer needs to track someone. I call Sawyer and he's at Miss Steele's condo; Ryan is relieving him because he has to go track Leila Williams! Grey has just pulled up and will want a status report. Sawyer says he'll call right back.

Ana's POV

My legs feel crampy from the run and I balance myself with my left hand against the desk chair and lift my right leg to the top of the desk. I bend and stretch until the leg cramp goes away. I repeat the process with the right hand and left leg. When I'm done stretching, I reach for the Tess books; moving them next to my laptop. They have to go back...but I sit on the bed, hugging my knees, reading Christian's card.

Forget my heroines of literature. Carla warned me to beware of men who can dance. She said never date anyone prettier than you because women age and men become more distinguished looking. She said the good looking ones throw you over at the first opportunity for a younger model. Also, she said never tell a man "yes" if he asks if he can kiss you good night because they always turn out to be control freaks; like saying "yes you can kiss me" means "yes, you can control my life." Three was the example she cited.

Mom, Mom, Mom...you have no clue what a control freak is...you haven't met Christian "I've-got-a-list-of-rules" Grey. I start laughing, I can't help myself...I fall back on the bed, howling with laughter...only Christian is standing in the doorway to my room, holding his car keys. I'm startled and laughing and in my total clumsiness...fall off the bed and scrape my knees on a crate. I can't help myself...I'm still laughing hysterically when he rushes to my aid.

Christian's POV

Sawyer was right…she didn't lock the damn front door! Why is she risking her life? That asshole Hyde lives near here. She should have the door barricaded to keep him from entering! I enter quietly and listen for noise, following it to Ana's room. Any fight I might have in me is defused by watching Ana – in her cream and blue bedroom. It's like a feminine version of my room – peaceful and serene to the casual observer. She obviously showered after her run. Her hair is in one braid, hanging down her back. She is breath-taking in a silky navy camisole and sleep shorts. God, I wonder how those would feel against my naked body while spooning her. My cock twitches and I remind myself I'm there on a mission, not just for a mindless gawk at Ana's beautiful body.

She is listening to her iPod and I am enthralled watching her move; watching her stretch; watching her bend. I see the contract on top of the laptop. There are pages and pages of writing beside it. I don't know if it's a response to the contract, or notes from classes she's readying to throw away. I gaze at her intently, twisting my car keys slowly around my index finger. She sets the Tess books near the laptop, holding my card in her hand. She sits on the edge of the bed, holding the card and holding her knees. Suddenly she's flung back on the bed, howling with laughter. She spots me and breaks into another gale of body-convulsing laughter, sliding off the bed and into the crate; scraping her knees.

I race to the bathroom and search for the first aid kit. When I get back to the bedroom, she's picked herself up off the floor and is sitting in her desk chair. Her legs - those beautiful, long, luscious legs, are propped on the bed and she's examining her knees with a look of surprise on her face. She doesn't say anything; just watches as I wipe both knees with an antiseptic wipe and bandage them for her. I get water and Advil.

She doesn't argue when I give her the water and the Advil. I wanted to spank the shit out of her for her text and for leaving the door unlocked. But now I want to kiss her boo-boos and every other piece of her anatomy. I want to make her scream my name, not in anger, but in desire, in release. "Good evening, Anastasia." I say coolly. She just gazes at me in shock. "I felt your email warranted a reply in person. May I sit?" I ask, indicating to the bed. She nods slightly, but her expression widens when I sit close, trapping her in the corner of her room. "Your bedroom is very serene and peaceful. I wasn't very observant of it when I was here before." I murmur. Yeah, I wasn't very observant of her room because I watched her sleep for hours that night. The look on her face and the tempo of her breathing tell me that she is neither peaceful nor serene right now. Her body language says she can't breathe normally or speak.

"Why?" finally she speaks, a rush of expelled breath accompanying the word. That is a good start.

"Why am I here?" I ask.

She nods.

"Your email; now ask how I got in," I demand. She remains mute. "You left the damned door unlocked!" My temper explodes. "I just want to spank the shit out of you for taking risks with your life!"

Ana's POV

"Not just no, but oh hell no…you are not spanking me!" I jump to my feet and try to melt into the corner.

"You could use a good spanking; god knows I'll feel better after giving you one!" He snarls at me.

"Just so you know...I left the door unlocked in case Sawyer needed to use the powder room."

His jaw dropped. "You put yourself at risk to play hostess?"

"I obviously WASN'T at risk...since I spotted Sawyer following me! Actually, I am at risk…you're here and threatening to spank me. Which by the way...I guess you forgot about my GPA. Everyone knows you don't just research Wikipedia." I said scornfully. I picked up the contract and research pages. I dropped them in the envelope and handed it back to him. "Please give me a couple days to process this before we talk about it again."

"So...you're not saying no negotiation, you're done with me?" He sounded surprised.

"Your lifestyle alternately intrigues me and scares the hell out of me. I'm saying no to a lot of things I saw in pictures...but a few of pictures and a couple of the blogs made me… hot...and I don't know how to process that."

"How hot?" If it's possible, he closed the distance between us.

"Hot enough...and you're already too close, so back off." I warn him.

"Not this time, baby...I don't intend to play nice if pictures made you hot," and he lunged, pulling me onto the bed with him and capturing my mouth.

Christian's POV

I pin her to the bed and kiss her until her lips are tender. I peel her clothes off slowly, taking my time. I admire her body while I strip. Then I started kissing every part of her body except her girl parts. It's a slow sensual torture. It is one of my favorite forms of orgasm denial. "Don't come," I order her.

Her body freezes and not in a hot, I'm-trying-to-hold-back kind of way, but cold-pissed- off- protect- your-groin kind of way. "Excuse me?" Ana drags herself into a seated position at the top of the bed and covers herself with tucked arms and legs. "Don't come? Don't be an idiot!"

"Idiot?" I am suddenly pissed at her again. Ten swats…ten hard swats…no submissive talks to me that way! Oh fuck…Ana is not my submissive. Ana is not my submissive!

"You know how inexperienced I am. I didn't have a clue how to please myself until you touched me. I certainly have not perfected the mindset that allows me to stop my body from reacting to you! If I come, does that mean you think you have another reason to spank me?" She fumes.

"Punishment would be the usual outcome," I feel we're flying off a precipice and I don't know how to pull us back to safety.

"Usual for you! Not usual for me! I just want to point out you said you would always tell me what was going on before we started to play. Excuse me if I thought this was vanilla sex because we're in my bedroom; not in your Red Room of Pain!" She's so yelling at me.

I'm so frustrated by her and if I don't fuck her soon, I'm going to explode. "God damn it, Anastasia," I yell and yank her down on the bed by her ankles, pinning her under me, kissing her until her body submits to her growing desires. I roll over and pull her on top of me, pinning her legs between mine, holding her braid so she can't move away from my kisses. With my free hand, I caress her ass over and over, feeling her squirm deliciously against me. I stop kissing; I stop caressing. I wait for her to safe word if she needs to. "Do you need to safe word?"

"I don't understand…" she whispers.

"Safe word yellow if you don't like the way things are going. Safe word red if you want me to stop something immediately. It's programmed into me. It's always your way out with me. If conversations become too overwhelming, if being intimate is too overwhelming; just say yellow and we'll step back."

"Don't stop touching me… Is there a green safe word that tells you to keep going?"

I chuckle. "No, your moans pretty much do that."

She blushes.

I roll her to her back and make her explode with my fingers. Her body convulses and shakes. While she is coming down from her orgasm, I bury myself deep into her warmth, her sweetness. She cries out in excitement when I enter her. I'm lost in the wonder of Anastasia. I don't fuck my Anastasia; I make love to her with slow full strokes. I kiss every inch of her skin that I can. She feels like silk, better than silk. No one has ever made me feel what Anastasia makes me feel. I stroke her beautiful hair; I lose myself in her beautiful blue eyes, I kiss those soft lips over and over again. I practice orgasm denial on myself, pausing when I know I'm going to lose it if I keep going. When I am calm, I begin again, but her building desire pulls me in until I cannot hold back any longer – my Anastasia makes me come so hard and so long. I don't ever remember such a feeling of complete fulfillment. I've been sated before, I've had sexual release before – but I feel – connected to her. Is this the more my subs wanted? I kiss her again, over and over until we have to stop and just breathe.

I withdrew from her, but lay beside her, her back to my front, holding her in my arms. I smell her hair and I hold her closer, spooning her. Pulling her quilt over us as we rest. Is this aftercare for vanilla sex? I am so lost, I don't know. Would Taylor tell me? Would Flynn tell me?

XX

"How do you do that?" Ana finally asked when our breathing returned to normal.

"What," I asked.

"Make me …I don't know … desperate to please you? Desperate to have you touch me?" She whispers.

"Some Dominants call it the honeymoon phase. The intensity of your feelings, our connection, the excitement and desire to touch one another and the newness of our relationship can make a submissive want more than she is physically or emotionally able to handle. I think it's about reading body language. I can put my hand on your hip when we are standing next to each other in a crowded room; and you will know you are there for no one but me. I can tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you will know how much I want to kiss you until you are hot and want me to touch you. It's about stroking a finger down your bare back from the nape of your neck to the small of your back and watching you tremble with desire. I can stand next to you, whisper the grocery list in French and know that just the whisper, the heat of my breath near your ear and the closeness of our bodies will make your panties wet. I know your body Anastasia." I kiss her hair. "I know the smallest gesture; a solitary touch tells me that You…Are…Mine."

"I understand you want to protect me and part of me feels cherished. But then another part of me feels confined, smothered. It scares me that Sawyer is following me without you telling me. Oh shit!" She jumped out of bed and pulled on her clothes. "You kissed me and I forgot what I meant to ask you. Who is she, or which one is she?"

"Who," I ask, confused.

"The brunette at the bus stop," Ana said impatiently.

"I know I have a sexual history, but what makes you think I know anything about a brunette at the bus stop?" I glare at her, reaching for my clothes.

"Because she recognized Sawyer and he recognized her. His presence surprised her; she stopped in the middle of the street to stare at him. He took pictures of her on his cell phone. So…she's an ex-sub, right?" Ana asks.

"Perhaps, but it's nothing for you to worry about," I assure her, jeans on, barefooted, walking toward her. Kissing, she needs kissing to make her stop asking questions. Definitely kissing until she's oblivious…

"I'll decide what I have to worry about, thank you. I've got to live my own life Christian, I've got to make my own mistakes, I've got to learn to live with them. I understand you want share your lifestyle with me; but I will not be a vacuous brunette who lets you determine what she wears, when she breathes, when she can touch you, when she can look at you and when she can talk to you. That shit doesn't work for me. Quite frankly…the way the bus-stop brunette looked scared me more than what I researched online. Is she ill? Maybe we should have this conversation in the living room. Trying to conduct a serious conversation in my bedroom is a bad plan."

"Ana!" I growl and make the mistake of trying to kiss her again, because she clocks me in the chin with her cast while trying to wrestle out of my arms. Wrestling with her right now is not sexy at all – it hurts! "Play nice," I growl at her. She settles down when I pin her to the wall in the hall. I have to know. "So, in the email you said it was nice knowing me…did you mean knowing in the biblical sense?"

"I wasn't aware you knew the Bible. I mean…just because you know what a St. Andrew's cross is; doesn't make you aware of what a Christian cross is." Ana's voice drips sarcasm.

"You've got serious spank-itude going on right now," I flash a stern look at her. "So what's with the nice part of the comment?"

"I think you need to look past the aesthetically pleasing definition and research the Urban Dictionary. Used as a filler during a pause in conversation. It doesn't necessarily mean something complimentary." She peels off the wall and leaves me standing there.

For the first time that I can recall…I am speechless. My damn phone rings. I look to see who the caller is. Elena! I ignore the call and send it to voicemail.

Sawyer's POV

I tell Grey about Miss Steele's unlocked door and the look on his face is nothing short of murderous. I'm glad I'm handing off to Ryan. He can deal with this. I need to get back out there and search for Leila Williams. What is she doing hanging around Miss Steele's condo? I'm not going to inform Grey about Leila until I have information to give him. I call Welch and ask him to pull background on Leila. I explain she's back in town, looks like hell and may be attempting contact with Mr. Grey again.

When Ryan shows, Taylor also arrives. I debrief both of them, downloading the pictures I have of Leila to Taylor. He's not happy to know she's back in town. He said she's been included in the weekly threat assessment from Welch. Well, thanks for the heads up! I go in search of her, starting with her old apartment, job, friends and her husband's family. They tell me Leila left her husband four months ago for another man. They haven't seen her since. I try to talk to the husband, but he refuses to see me.

Jack's POV

I see Ana running in the park and think this might be a good time to approach her. By giving her space to run and hanging back, I see her followed by a black SUV. The license on it is one number off from the one which drops off and picks up Ana from SIP. I hang back and watch her enter her condo. I hope the black SUV will go away now that she is inside; but no joy. I have to park where I can keep an eye on her building and keep an eye on the SUV. Grey arrives within half an hour and leaves his car next to the SUV. Then a second and third SUV arrive. Those drivers talk to the first SUV driver who departs. Fuck; I too keyed up to go home. I set Google for hourly alerts on anything new posted about Grey. I go to Twitter and announce Christian Grey is in the vicinity of Pike Place Market. Maybe his security will see it and pull him out of Ana's condo and take him back to Escala. Finally before dusk I just have to say fuck it and go to SIP. I go through her desk, her computer, her emails, her voice mails. There is no new information. I'm frustrated as hell and have to call Elizabeth for a playdate before we go to work tomorrow.

Leila's POV

I manage to get away from Miss Steele's condo before Sawyer catches me. He has pictures, but it won't do him any good. I'm back in the area now, watching; but he is gone. Ryan is in a SUV. Taylor is in a SUV. There is an R8 parked – Master must have driven himself here. I'm wearing a black wig, black jeans, black converse and black t-shirt. My fingernails are painted black, my lipstick is black. I look like a Goth chick. I have a ratty black backpack and a well-worn book so I can lean up against a tree anywhere and pretend to read and no one will know. I can ride the bus from Susannah's condo to Miss Steele's condo and no one will be the wiser. Who is she? Why is Master having her followed? Why is she having her picture taken with him? Why is he at her condo?

If she is his new submissive, she should be at Escala, he should not be at her condo. When Master leaves, I will follow. It is a short walk from here to Escala. I'll be watching for the black SUV following Miss Steele now. Tomorrow I will watch when Miss Steele leaves. I will go to Susannah's and attempt to dress like her. Maybe I can get into Escala if I dress like her. Maybe I can get into her work place again and go through her desk. There were no emails to Master. She isn't using a Blackberry, but an older phone. An older blue Volkswagen bug with a WSUV parking sticker on the bumper is sitting in the parking lot. Since she doesn't have a Blackberry yet or an Audi; they must be negotiating her contract. This is the time of night she should be leaving Escala if she was his submissive. I have time to reclaim my master if they are not contracted yet. I made him happy for eighteen months; I can do it again. I'll explain Elena told me to demand more from him…I was happy the way we were. I would have been happy to stay with him for as long as he wanted me.

My Twitter app beeps at me. Greywatch says Christian Grey is in the vicinity of Pike Place Market. I have to get away before paparazzi find him.

A/N:

Thank you for the reviews and viewers; thank you for the messages and questions; thank you for the favorites and follows!

A shout out to showdog for her FSOG fanfiction story All the Tea in China. It's one of my favorites.

I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. My story is the interpretation of my thoughts about how the characters could have, should have, would have acted.