Tuesday, May 24 2011
I've spent close to 45 minutes in the steam room downstairs, and I am heading back up to my suite, hoping for a shower, finally feeling relaxed enough to possibly fall asleep, when my Blackberry chimes, informing me I have a new email.
I am surprised when I see it is Anastasia, and upon opening the email, I find it's long—really long. I wait until I'm back in the room to read it.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Issues
Date: May 24 2011 00:02
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
Here is my list of issues. I look forward to discussing them more fully at dinner on Wednesday.
The numbers refer to clauses:
2: Not sure why this is solely for MY benefit—i.e., to explore MY sensuality and limits. I'm sure I wouldn't need a ten-page contract to do that! Surely this is for YOUR benefit.
4: As you are aware, you are my only sexual partner. I don't take drugs, and I've not had any blood transfusions. I'm probably safe. What about you?
8: I can terminate at any time if I don't think you're sticking to the agreed limits. Okay—I like this.
9: Obey you in all things? Accept without hesitation your discipline? We need to talk about this.
11: One-month trial period. Not three.
12: I cannot commit every weekend. I do have a life, or will have. Perhaps three out of four?
15.2: Using my body as you see fit sexually or otherwise—please define "or otherwise."
15.5: This whole discipline clause. I'm not sure I want to be whipped, flogged, or corporally punished. I am sure this would be in breach of clauses 2-5. And also "for any other reason." That's just mean—and you told me you weren't a sadist.
15.10: Like loaning me out to someone else would ever be an option. But I'm glad it's here in black and white.
15.14: The Rules. More on those later.
15.19: Touching myself without your permission. What's the problem with this? You know I don't do it anyway.
15.21: Discipline—please see clause 15.5 above.
15.22: I can't look into your eyes? Why?
15.24: Why can't I touch you?
Rules:
Sleep—I'll agree to six hours.
Food—I am not eating food from a prescribed list. The food list goes or I do—deal breaker.
Clothes—as long as I only have to wear your clothes when I'm with you… okay.
Exercise—We agreed on three hours, this still says four.
Soft Limits:
Can we go through all of these? No fisting of any kind. What is suspension?
Genital clamps—you have got to be kidding me.
Can you please let me know the arrangements for Wednesday? I am working until five p.m. that day.
Good night.
Ana
Holy fuck! I leave and she opens up like a clam.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Issues
Date: May 24 2011 00:07
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
That's a long list. Why are you still up?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Burning the Midnight Oil
Date: May 24 2011 00:10
To: Christian Grey
Sir,
If you recall, I was going through this list when I was distracted and bedded by a passing control freak.
Good night.
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Stop Burning the Midnight Oil
Date: May 24 2011 00:12
To: Anastasia Steele
GO TO BED, ANASTASIA
Christian Grey & Control Freak, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I run a hand, in exasperation, through my hair. Shit, this woman is something else. I read over her email twice, referring to the contract and the clauses she's specified, each in turn. Sounds to me that she as an issue with anything that has to do with submission. I find myself smirking at the realization, but then my gut drops out from under me in almost immediate succession.
Is this really for her? Am I asking too much of her?
"Fuck," I mutter aloud. I abandon my phone on the edge of the bed and head into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Under the hot, steady stream of the showerhead, I have time to think things over.
Okay, so the fucking is amazing. I've never had a woman whose body fit mine so perfectly. She's unbelievable, and though I know she needs a lot of training, the thought doesn't daunt me. I'm more than willing to show her how.
She's beautiful, she's got a smart mouth, and she stands her own. She challenges me, and for the first time, I realize that I kind of like that. I'm so used to having women listen to my every beck and call, to never question anything I ask of them, and so, to be confronted by Anastasia like this is kind of refreshing. It's new, and it's… exciting.
She's not a natural born submissive; though I was sure she would be on that first day. I compare this smart mouthed, stubborn woman to the meek and mild girl who fell into my office two weeks ago. First impressions are not always correct.
The water runs cold before I realize how long I've been standing there. I shut the water off, and dry myself quickly. I pull on a pair of pajama pants, rub the towel through my hair, and flop onto the mattress. Before I know it, I'm asleep.
.. ~..
Mommy! Mommy!
Mommy is asleep on the floor. She has been asleep for a long time. I brush her hair because she likes that. She doesn't wake up. I shake her. Mommy!
My tummy hurts. It is hungry. He isn't here. I am thirsty. In the kitchen I pull a chair to the sink, and I have a drink. The water splashes over my blue sweater.
Mommy is still asleep. Mommy wake up! She lies still. She is cold. I fetch my blankie, and I cover Mommy, and I lie down on the sticky green rug beside her. Mommy is still asleep.
I have two toy cars. They race by the floor where Mommy is sleeping. I think Mommy is sick.
I search for something to eat. In the freezer I find peas. They are cold. I eat them slowly. They make my tummy hurt. I sleep beside Mommy.
The peas are gone. In the freezer is something. It smells funny. I lick it and my tongue is stuck to it. I eat it slowly. It tastes nasty. I drink some water. I play with my cars, and I sleep beside Mommy. Mommy is so cold, and she won't wake up.
The door crashes open. I cover Mommy with my blankie. He's here.
Fuck! What the fuck happened here? Oh, the crazy fucked-up bitch! Shit! Fuck! Get out of my way, you little shit!
He kicks me, and I hit my head on the floor. My head hurts. He calls somebody and he goes. He locks the door.
I lay down beside Mommy. My head hurts.
The lady policeman is here. No. No. No. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. I stay by Mommy. No. Stay away from me. The lady policeman has my blankie, and she grabs me. I scream.
Mommy! Mommy! I want my mommy.
The words are gone. I can't say the words. Mommy can't hear me. I have no words.
Some sound wakes me. Someone is wailing. Clarity slowly returns, and the sound grows louder, closer, I realize it's me. I stop screaming, and sit up in bed. My face is wet, the tears making my cheeks sticky, and I rub my palms harshly over my face.
Fuck. I've gone the longest stretch without a nightmare, but they're back. I am alone in bed, in the Heathman. I check the time. It's still early, much too early to get up. I lie back down, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. It is quiet outside. Every once in a while I can hear a car slip past in the night. There is nothing to soothe me here. The gym won't be open yet, there is no piano. And Anastasia is home, in bed.
I startle at the direction my thoughts have taken, but I suppose she does offer a sort of calm. Fucking her leaves me sated and replete the way fucking anyone else never has. I want to go to her now. The desperation, the need, which fills me, takes me off guard, and I find myself getting out of bed. I'm pulling off my sleep t-shirt, about to dress to go to her when I realize it's nearly one thirty in the morning. I shake my head. I can't go to her now. Instead I run a bath, as hot as I can stand it, and sink in.
I need her. I need her to be my submissive, and despite all the thoughts I've had earlier in the evening, there is only the need. I need her to try. I need her to say yes. Once the bath has run cold, I climb out and compose an email to Miss Steele.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your Issues
Date: May 24 2011 01:27
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
Following my more thorough examination of your issues, may I bring to your attention the definition of submissive?
Submissive [suhb-mis-iv]—adjective
inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient: submissive servants.
marked by or indicating submission: a submissive reply.
Origin: 1580-90; submiss + -ive
Synonyms: 1. tractable, compliant, pliant, amenable. 2. passive, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued. Antonyms: 1. rebellious, disobedient.
Please bear this in mind for our meeting on Wednesday.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
~~…~~
Tuesday morning passes in a blur, mostly. I'm exhausted from the horrible sleep I've had the night before, and nothing seems to be sticking. I often have to ask someone to repeat themselves, twice, and I know it's because I'm distracted by the fact that Anastasia hasn't responded to my email yet. I'm going to have a coronary if she doesn't give me an answer soon.
As the afternoon wears on, I'm able to possess more of a grip on things, and I wonder if it's due to the break I took earlier, in order to go to the gym. I've just finished up a conference with the board and am booking my next session with Claude—when I've returned home—when my inbox notifies me of an incoming email. I glance over idly—I have, in fact, been receiving emails from people all day—I find that it's from Anastasia.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: My Issues… What about your Issues?
Date: May 24 2011 18:29
To: Christian Grey
Sir,
Please note the date of origin: 1580-90.
I would respectfully remind Sir that the year is 2011. We have come a long way since then.
May I offer a definition for you to consider for our meeting.
compromise [kom-pruh-mayhz]—noun
a settlement of differences by mutual concessions; an agreement reached by adjustment of conflicting or opposing claims, principles, etc., by reciprocal modification of demands. 2. the result of such a settlement. 3. something intermediate between different things: The split-level is a compromise between a ranch house and a multistoried house. 4. an endangering, esp. of reputation; exposure to danger, suspicion, etc.: a compromise of one's integrity.
Ana
Okay, so she's made a good point—as she's prone to do.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What about My Issues?
Date: May 24 2011 18:32
To: Anastasia Steele
Good point, well made, as ever, Miss Steele. I will collect you from your apartment at 7:00 tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I've assumed our conversation is over, and am striding across the room toward the telephone, to order room service for dinner, when a ping from my inbox interrupts me.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: 2011—Women Can Drive
Date: May 24 2011 18:40
To: Christian Grey
Sir,
I have a car. I can drive.
I would prefer to meet you somewhere.
Where shall I meet you?
At your hotel at 7:00?
Ana
As I read, I run my hand through my hair in exasperation.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Stubborn Young Women
Date: May 24 2011 18:43
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I refer to my email dated May 24, 2011, sent at 1:27 and the definition contained therein.
Do you ever think you'll be able to do what you're told?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I know enough about Anastasia now to know this won't be the last email of the night. I await her reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Intractable Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:49
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey,
I would like to drive.
Please.
Ana
Oh, for fuck's sake. The fact that she's asked for permission has softened me some.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Exasperated Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:52
To: Anastasia Steele
Fine.
My hotel at 7:00.
I'll meet you in the Marble Bar.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Not So Intractable Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:55
To: Christian Grey
Thank you.
Ana x
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Exasperating Women
Date: May 24 2011 18:59
To: Anastasia Steele
You're welcome.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
~~…~~
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
It's 6:30 on Wednesday evening, and I've just come back to my room from a very impromptu run on the treadmill in the fitness center downstairs. I needed to do something to curb the raging anxiety—and let's be honest—lust, at the prospect of seeing Miss Steele again. Once I'm showered, I dress in a simple white linen shirt, black jeans, black tie, and jacket. Keep it simple, understated. I want to set the tone for our meeting—yes, meeting. Business meeting—as docile and calm. I've never had to do this before. All of this… added shit is so strange. Usually, we've dealt with the negotiations already—if there even are any; often there aren't—and we're onto the next order of business. I should have gotten a 'yes' by now, and the thought angers me.
Why is Anastasia Steele so fucking stubborn?
I make my way down to the bar and order a class of Sancerre. I don't sit—I'm too nervous. I'm halfway finished with my glass and glance toward the entrance for, probably, the sixth time. I'm aware I'm nervous—my heart is revving in my chest like a Formula One engine.
And there she stands, Miss Anastasia Steele. In a dress. And heels. Mmmm… she looks divine. The dress is purple, and it suits her wonderfully, bringing out the blue in her eyes, the rose in her complexion. The heels are high, and match her dress; her legs look amazing in them. Her hair drifts in sexy waves down her back and to her breasts.
Oh, fuck me.