We have nearly concluded our kitchen renovation, which explains my absence over the weekend. It's been crazy around here, trying to keep a VERY curious toddler out of the construction zone, all while dealing with pretty significant morning sickness (which I'm thankful for! Don't get me wrong. It can just be a little debilitating.)
So, while my daughter naps, I'm lounging in bed (because I can) and I'm finishing up this chapter for you all!
You've finally caught up to my overzealous writing, and so the delays between chapters may be a tad more pronounced now, but nothing you can't handle-I assure you ;)
xo
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Saturday, June 11th 2011 - evening
.
I finish getting ready, donning my dinner jacket and bow tie.
I gather the masks as I receive a text from Taylor, informing me that he and the security team are ready to go. I've decided we won't need Prescott along, and so stepping out into the hallway, I find Taylor standing with Ian, Ryan and Sawyer. The three of them glance up attentively, when I appear.
"Mr. Grey," Taylor greets me, eliciting an echo of the greeting from the other three.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. So eager to impress-exactly like a sprawling, stupid pile of puppies. Puppies, at least, are cute and playful.
We go over the plan for the evening-scattered security, eyes on Ana at all times. I stress the importance of not letting her out of their sight. Because I'm more worried about her than I am myself-Leila wouldn't try anything at my parents' gala, would she?-I tell Taylor to especially keep an eye on her.
I'm alerted to Ana's presence when all three gazes flicker over my shoulder, then do a double take and stare. I see the appreciation reflected in their eyes, and I know it's Ana.
I turn around and see her, drinking in the sight of her.
That silver gown, rippling down her body, hugging her curves just right... Minimal makeup, but she doesn't really need it. Her cheeks are flushed more than usual, and I wonder if it's from the attention, or if it's from the balls...
Her hair falls in a dark curtain around her shoulders, to her breasts.
She stands at least five inches taller in the Louboutins, and I can just imagine those legs underneath that gown, those stockings, that delectable lingerie...
My insides hum at the sight of her, and of my extra knowledge which no one else possesses. I know what she wears underneath, and it's not just the corset and tiny panties...
I am in utter awe of the woman standing at the end of the hall, and almost unconsciously, dazed by the sight of her, I go to her.
I lean down and press my lips into her glossy hair.
"Anastasia. You look breathtaking."
I watch the pink in her cheeks deepen in color at my compliment.
"A glass of champagne before we go?" I offer.
"Please."
I nod to Taylor, signaling that we'll meet him at the car, and the four men leave.
I lead Ana into the great room, retrieving a chilled bottle of Boizel from the refrigerator.
"Security team?" she asks, referring to the men in the hallway as I pour us each a glass.
"Close protection. They're under Taylor's control. He's trained in that, too." I hand one of the flutes to her, and she takes it.
"He's very versatile," she comments.
"Yes, he is," I agree, then I smile at her. "You look lovely, Anastasia. Cheers." I raise my own glass, and she clinks the rim of hers against it.
I sip mine, fine bubbles crackling on my tongue, bursts of citrus fruits and a tang of spice. It's a good one. I watch her swallow a bit of her own champagne, wetting her lips. Her cheeks are still very flushed, and I'm sure, now, that it's because of the Ben Wa balls.
"How are you feeling?" I ask her.
"Fine, thank you," she answers, blase, and smiles sweetly.
I smirk at her.
"Here, you're going to need this." I pass over a large velvet pouch, which was lounging on the island counter top, waiting for us, per my instructions. "Open it," I urge, and take another sip of champagne.
She reaches inside and produces a beautiful mask. It's silver, a plume of bright blue feathers on top. Wow. It's going to look stunning with her dress, and her eyes.
"It's a masked ball," I explain.
"I see."
"This will show off your beautiful eyes, Anastasia."
She smiles at me coyly.
"Are you wearing one?" she asks.
"Of course," I say, "They're very liberating in a way." I cock an eyebrow at her. "Come. I want to show you something." I offer my hand to her and she takes it. I guide her out into the hallway, and to the library door, beside the stairs.
I push open the door, and then turn my eyes on her face, watching her take it in.
Her eyes widen slightly, and I see the pleasure on her face as she takes in the walls of books, and the full-sized billiard table in the center of the room.
"You have a library!" she gasps excitedly.
"Yes," I say, "the 'balls room', as Elliot calls it." Oh, brother. "The apartment is quite spacious. I realized today, when you mentioned exploring, that I've never given you a tour. We don't have time now, but I thought I'd show you this room, and maybe challenge you to a game of billiards in the not-too-distant future."
The possibilities...
She smiles widely at me.
"Bring it on," she says, sounding pretty damn confident in herself.
"What?" I smirk at her.
"Nothing," she blurts, averting her eyes.
I narrow my eyes at her. She's hiding something.
"Well, maybe Dr. Flynn can uncover your secrets," I tease, "You'll meet him this evening," I add.
"The expensive charlatan?" she asks, sounding surprised. I wonder if it's in a good way, or a bad way.
"The very same," I confirm, "He's dying to meet you."
.
Taylor and Sawyer drive us to Bellevue.
Ana asks me where I got the lipstick.
"Taylor," I answer her, mouthing his name silently as I point toward the front of the vehicle.
She bursts into laughter-probably imagining Taylor's arsenal of makeup equipment. She stops suddenly, her cheeks flushing pinker than I've seen them so far, eyes widening, shoulders hunching in slightly.
Oh.
She bites down on that lower lip and I smile at her, knowing exactly what's going on.
"Relax," I whisper to her, "If it's too much..." I trail off, kissing each of her knuckles, and biting down on the tip of her pinky. If it's too much... Well, I'll just have to deal with it, won't I?
She closes her eyes, and the set of her face changes. I can nearly feel the desire coming off of her, in palpable waves, and it feeds my own lust.
I don't know how long I'll be able to wait. I find myself hoping she gives in to the sensation... And soon.
.
Masks on-it's a strangely comforting feeling, though I know I'm not really hiding, I lead Anastasia around to the tent out back, arm around her waist in a protective manner I hope she doesn't recognize.
As usual, my mother has outdone herself, gone all out with the decorations-tons of light lantern things, a long dark green carpet running from the front curb to the tent.
Each time someone veers too close as we all head toward the party, I try not to cringe. I trust Taylor, I'm not so sure about the new guy. I hope he's watching, and on high-alert. Taylor knows to be; I don't know so much about Sawyer.
I know from his background check that he's perfectly capable-but he has yet to impress me.
"Mr. Grey!" I hear, and glance over to see two photographers-one from the Seattle Times, the other hired for souvenir purposes by my mother-standing in front of an ivy-draped arbor-obviously a backdrop for pictures.
I nod toward him, figuring why the hell not, and tug Ana close to my side. We pose for a photo, and move on.
Partially, I've done this because I know my mother will kill me if she doesn't have a photo of me from the party. Another part, is because I just wanted to. I like taking pictures with Ana. I like having her at my side. I like that, according to Ana, she is the only woman I've ever had a picture taken with.
"Two photographers?" she inquires as we fall back in step with the others, along the long green rug.
"One is from the Seattle Times; the other is for a souvenir. We'll be able to buy a copy later," I explain.
As we reach the end of t he carpet, servers offer trays of champagne. I pass Ana a glass and take one for myself, as well.
The tent is positioned where it usually is, the black-and-white checkered dance floor fenced in, entrances on three sides-as per usual. The only difference are more of those lantern things, and the ice sculptures of swans standing at each entrance to the dance floor. They are exquisite, and, again, I think of just how far my mother will go for a party.
A string quartet is set up on the stage, playing a soft classical melody. Something about it twists in my stomach-it is haunting, and extremely melancholy. Beautiful, but very sad.
I grasp Ana's hand in mine, ignoring the feelings the music elicits in me, and I take her onto the dance floor where, for now, there is no dancing-only socializing.
Through the open flaps of the tent, I can see the seating area, set up in another tent closer to the shore line.
"How many people are coming?" Ana asks me, eyeing the dining arrangements.
"I think about three hundred," I tell her, "You'll have to ask my mother." I smile at her.
"Christian!" A shrill voice calls, piercing sharply through the upbeat murmur of the crowd.
Mia.
She slips from nowhere out of the crowd and throws her arms around my neck, squeezing me tight.
She turns to Ana.
"Ana! Oh, darling, you look gorgeous!" She embraces her, too. "You must come and meet my friends," she insists, "None of them can believe that Christian finally has a girlfriend."
Ana glances at me, and I see momentary panic light her eyes. I shrug in a way that I hope conveys how sorry I am for her behavior, and that I know how she feels, because I grew up with it.
Mia grabs Ana's hand and essentially drags her over to a smattering of women-the usual four girls Mia brings anywhere, most of them whom I cannot stand.
Mia introduces Ana to them, including a girl named Lily, who I am not fond of at all. It's clear she's had a crush on me-she's never tried to hide it.
I gaze around the room, distracted by the girlishness of this all. I'd rather be somewhere else, honestly.
I find my eyes lingering on many of the women faces, trying to recognize Leila underneath the masks, and for the first time this evening, panic hums in my veins, vibrates in my belly.
Was this really a good idea to bring Ana to this? Is it too public, too much room for error?
I snake my around around Ana's waist, needing to touch her, to have her close to me again.
"Ladies, if I could claim my date back, please?" I say, pulling her flush to my side. I grin at them, trying to seem cavalier, and as usual, they all blush and swoon in response.
I see Mia roll her eyes at Ana, and as she laughs, I suppress my smile. So, they've noticed it too.
"Lovely to meet you," Ana throws over her shoulder as I lead her away.
"Thank you," she mouths at me once we're out of earshot.
"I saw that Lily was with Mia. She is one nasty piece of work." I cringe at the many advances she's made at me over the years.
"She likes you," Ana murmurs, sort of bitterly.
I shudder playfully. "Well, the feeling is not mutual," I assure, amusement rising as I see the jealousy tint her eyes green. "Come, let me introduce you to some people."
.
Half an hour later, we are finally called to be seated.
Grateful and starving, I take Ana's hand and follow the guests to the dining tent, and consider the seating plan. I find our names quickly, and weave through the white-linen-clothed tables to one in the center, where Mia and my mother are already sitting. They don't see us approach, already deep in conversation with a guy I don't know. I keep an eye on him, but he looks fine enough. Disillusioned a little, I think, to think he has a chance with Mia. He looks uncomfortable and out of his element, in his tuxedo buttoned right to the throat. It looks as if his tie is choking him, as he answers my mother's questions.
My mother wears a long, light green gown, with a matching Venetian mask. Mia compliments her minty gown with a slightly overzealous pink ballgown, but it suits her, I suppose. I hadn't taken notice of what she was wearing earlier. Her mask is a little frillier, a little more gossamer, but again, it suits her.
"Ana, how delightful to see you again!" my mother finally greets Ana, noticing our arrival. "And looking so beautiful, too."
"Mother," I greet her, kissing her on each cheek in turn.
"Oh, Christian, so formal!"
Grandmother and Grandfather join us at the table as well. It's been too long, and fond memories of childhood days spend in their apple orchard, and the apple pie at Thanksgiving. Pecan pie at Christmas... Grandmother has always been a spectacular baker. She used to make me a cake every year for my birthday. My mother can cook; baking is another story.
"Grandmother, Grandfather, may I introduce Anastasia Steele?" I say to them and their matching bronze masks. They look as effervescent as ever beneath them.
"Oh, he's finally found someone, how wonderful, and so pretty!" Grandmother exudes, "Well, I do hope you make an honest man of him." She shakes Ana's hand so fast it blurs.
I can't see it behind the mask, but I know Ana has to be blushing. I can't suppress my smirk of amusement.
My Grandmother has never been one for subtlety.
"Mother, don't embarrass Ana," my mother chides.
"Ignore the silly cold coot, m'dear," Grandfather teases, and shakes her hand as well. "She thinks because she's so old, she has a God-given right to say whatever nonsense pops into that woolly head of hers."
Mia introduces Ana to her date as Sean.
I can't believe it when he gives Ana an ostentatious grin, and they shake hands.
"Pleased to meet you, Sean," Ana says.
He turns to me now, and I squeeze his hand a little harder than usual as we shake, regarding him carefully. No, definitely not good enough.
Lance and Janine Keith join our table as well, just in time, as usual.
I see my father come onstage. The microphone hisses, and my father's voice comes over, too loud. The chatter dies down immediately.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to our annual charity ball," he greets everyone, "I hope that you enjoy what we have laid out for you tonight and that you'll dig deep into your pockets to support the fantastic work that our team does with Coping Together. As you know, it's a cause that is very close to my wife's heart, and mine."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ana glance over at me, and I turn my gaze on her and smirk.
"I'll hand you over now to our master of ceremonies," my father continues, "Please be seated, and enjoy."
Short applause bubbles around the room, and the chatter starts up again.
I help Ana into her seat and take mine beside her. My grandfather sits on the other side of her, grandmother beside him.
My father walks over, leaning down to kiss Ana on both cheeks, embarrassing me.
"Good to see you again, Ana," he tells her, and takes his seat beside my mother.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the master of ceremonies pipes up, "please nominate a table head."
Let the games begin.
"Oooh-me, me!" Mia calls at once, bouncing in her seat. It's the same way every years, as far back as I can remember.
My mother and father have been throwing this charity ball for as long as I can recall. At first, in childhood, it was fun and exciting. As the host and hostess's children, we were allowed to attend the dance. As I got older, and more knowledgeable, I began to wonder if I had something to do with the cause for the ball, and now, at twenty-seven, I am sure I-and the crack whore-inspired it.
It makes me uncomfortable in a way that itches, and I never pay attention to it long. I treat it as another charity gala, another party, and I try to put away the rest.
"In the center of the table you will find an envelope," the MC continues. "Would everyone find, beg, borrow, or steal a bill of the highest denomination you can manage, write your name on it, and place it inside the envelope? Table heads, please guard these envelopes carefully. We will need them later."
Retrieving my wallet from my back pocket, I fish out two $100 bills, noting Ana's sudden panic.
"Here." I hand them to her.
"I'll pay you back," she whispers as she takes them.
Abruptly my mood sours, and I feel my mouth contort. I wish she wouldn't say things like that. I wish she'd just take the money, and that is that. Two hundred dollars is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Especially considering what it's going toward.
As Mia passes the envelope around, and after I've signed my own contribution-$500 should be a good amount to start off with-I peruse the menu.
Salmon tartae with creme fraiche and cucumber on toasted brioche for the appetizer, paired with a 2006 Alban Estate Roussanne, roasted duck breast for the entree, with a 2006 Vielles Vigness Domaine De La Janesse, sugar-crusted walnut chiffon, candied figs, sabayon and maple ice cream, with Vin De Constance 2004 Klein Constantia for dessert. A selection of local cheeses and breads, coffees and petite fours finishes off the menu.
A good selection, and a lot of wine. I can handle the two glasses of champagne I've already had, but Ana looks flushed, and I can't tell if it's from the balls or the alcohol. It is a party, and we aren't driving, but still-there's no need to get reckless.
Out of my periphery I watch her as the waiters approach, pouring wine and water. She shifts in her seat just slightly, hands in her lap, and I wonder how she's doing.
Lust stirs deep in my groin, imagining the heat, the moisture, that would greet me right about now. She's handling the balls rather well. I imagined she would have given up by now, but as ever, she surprises me, and, as ever, it turns me on.
The starters are placed in front of us. Oh, it smells good.
"Hungry?" I murmur in Ana's ear. I hope she catches on, and knows that I'm not talking about the food, though I am starving.
"Very," she breathes, lifting her eyes to mine, and as I stare, the blue in them deepens, expands, and her pupils dilate.
Her bravado spikes the lust, and I notice that my breath grows faster, shallower. I part my lips to accommodate it. Oh, I want her. I have half a mind to excuse us right this moment, but that would be too conspicuous.
Grandfather asks her a question now, stealing her attention, and the spell is broken. The dark, sticky burn of lust still prowls inside me, but it's tamed for now, locked in a cage. I can handle this. I can control this. It's easy. I've done it before.
But not with Ana. Never with Ana. I never want to fight it with her.
.
Once distracted by Lance with a question about work, it's easier to get through the meal. Plus, I really am starving.
I tell Lance about the wind-up mobile phone we're working on, figuring it's far enough into production by now to talk about, and I really am very excited about it. It holds so much potential for impoverished people.
Lance doesn't seem to understand my idea behind not patenting the technology. I'll be honest, it was a difficult decision to make, but ultimately, what's more important is reaching more people, and making it as accessible as possible.
"We took inspiration from E.F Schumacher's Small Is Beautiful principle," I explain to Lance, "What I really want, at the end of the day, is to empower impoverished communities all over the world with windup technology-devices that need no electricity or batteries, and minimal maintenance. The finances tie into that huge. Think about it. If people had to pay for it, no matter the price, there would always be someone who couldn't afford it. And that's not what I'm going after. I want to improve the lives of these people, in any way I can. Through Baseline" the telecommunications company we work with "I'm striving to be the first to market with a windup mobile phone."
Lance offers his own opinions, which I will not be deterred by. I listen to them, of course, but take them with a grain of salt. This is an awesome idea, and I know it.
.
By the time dessert is served, I can see that Ana is getting really uncomfortable. She is shifting at a near constant in her seat now, and is rather flushed. On the thigh closest to me, her fist is balled tight, skin stretched white over the knuckles.
I'm about to lean over and suggest we excuse ourselves for a moment-or two-the MC appears, assistant alongside him. I barely glance up, just trying to think of a way to excuse us without making it too obvious, while the winning bill is pulled by my mother.
Sean wins the silk-wrapped basket in the middle of the table.
We all applaud.
As it dies down, Ana leans toward me.
"If you'll excuse me," she says.
"Do you need the powder room?"
She nods.
"I'll show you."
She stands, and I, along with all of the other men at he table, stand with her.
"No, Christian!" Mia interjects, "You're not taking Ana-I will."
For Christ's fucking sake.
Before I can argue, Mia is on her feet and leading Ana away.
I really wanted to be the one to pulls those balls out... And replace them with mine.
While they're gone, the auction prize list is passed out, and my father returns to the stage, to start the proceedings.
They return a few minutes later, and Ana looks only slightly more comfortable. As she sits, she gazes at me, biting her lip, and I wonder what she's thinking.
She flushes and I try not to grin at her.
We'll get another opportunity, I'm sure.
Leave it to Mia to unknowingly cock-block me. I almost laugh at the thought.
Little sisters...
Now, something on Ana's face shifts to anger, and it entertains me to see her so upset about our missed opportunity. I reach over and squeeze her hand, trying to reassure her without words.
I turn my attention back to Carrick, who is midway through his speech now. I'm not really listening, honestly. In fact, I'm trying hard not to.
I pass the list of auction prizes to Ana, and watch her read it over, surprise lighting in her eyes at one point.
She blinks at me when she's done.
"You own property in Aspen?" she hisses under her breath once she's done reading, the auction having started now.
I nod, surprised at her anger at the surprise, irritated by it. Why the hell is she angry about that? I put my finger to my lips, hoping to silence her.
"Do you have property elsewhere?" she pushes lowly.
I nod, tilting my head at her, which I hope comes off as a warning. She needs to be quiet, unless she wants to mistakenly bid for something. Besides, it's not polite to be having a conversation while the auction is underway.
Suddenly, the room erupts in applause and boisterous cheering, and I jump. Someone has won a price for $12,000.
"I'll tell you later," I say, my quiet voice cushioned by the celebration, "I wanted to come with you," I add, aware that I sound like a pouting child.
Surprisingly, she seems to glare at me, and I wonder why her mood has become so sour all of a sudden. I watch her scan the tent, and reflexively, I'm doing the same, searching for Leila.
I force my attention back to the auction.
We reach the bidding for my place in Aspen.
"We'll start the bid at $1000 dollars," the MC calls. Any takers?
"$1000!" someone calls out.
"$1300," someone else counters across the room.
The price builds to $1500, $1600, $1900, then lingers on $20,000. Seconds tick by as people wait.
"Going once, going twice," The MC calls.
"Twenty-four thousand dollars!" A voice calls out loudly, and I realize that it's so loud because she's sitting right beside me.
Every muscle in my body tenses when I realize it's Ana who has spoken. Every face at the table turns toward her, shocked. But I'm the one who is in the most shock of all. And all of a sudden, furious.
I know what she's doing here. I know her intentions.
"Twenty-four thousand dollars, to the lovely lady in silver," The MC calls, and I grind my teeth together, waiting for a counter. "Going once..." C'mon, anyone? "Going twice..." For fuck's sake, someone bid against her! "Sold!" he calls grandly, and rage consumes me like the ocean.
I force my hands together, into applause, thanking fuck for the mask, because if it wasn't in place, the whole room would be aware of just how infuriated I am by all of this.
I force a smile onto my face, knowing it has to look plastic, and lean over to kiss her cheek. Part of me is absolutely amazed at her audacity-impressed by it, even. The other part wants to spank her until her ass is a lovely shade of rose.
I tilt my face to whisper in her ear.
"I don't know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you." Even as I say the words, I realize it's an impossibility. I've promised myself I would never do that again, not even if she begged me-which she won't.
I pull back slightly so I can see her face. She gazes up at me through her mask, those cobalt blue feathers striking.
"I'll take option two, please."
I can't bite back my gasp of utter shock, and then grin at her, absolutely radiant.
Oh, baby...
"Suffering, are you? We'll have to see what we can do about that."
I run my fingers gently along the smooth skin of her jaw, and pretend interest in the next item on the auction list.
Honestly, I don't even know what it is. I'm only concentrating on my next movement, as I slip my arm over her shoulders, stroking her back again and again with my thumb, reveling in the silk it feels like. I take her hand with my free one, bring it to my lips, gently, and then guide it to my lap, letting it rest there for a moment.
Glancing at her sideways, I see her, so focused on the stage. She has no idea what I'm about to do, and I can't help but grin to myself, internally.
I sweep her hand up my thigh, pressing it against my cock, which is hard and throbbing, almost painful.
Her lips part and I hear her sharp intake of breath. She glances around the table, where everyone else watches the auction, totally unassuming.
She falters for a second, but only a second. Tentatively, she strokes me. I can feel the warmth of her hand through my pants and sensation is... Otherworldly.
I hide her hand with mine, stroking the back of her neck with my thumb.
She presses against me with just the right pressure, skating her thumb over the tip of my dick, and I hear myself gasp. I can't hide it.
Oh, I need her. Now.
I feel myself elongate, growing harder by the second, as she strokes me gently, firmly, with purpose.
The bid for the last item on the list-some vacation in Montana-escalates quickly, just as I am building.
"Sold!" the MC bursts, "for one hundred ten thousand dollars!"
Everyone applauds, and I force my hands to do the same. Anastasia follows suit, and the absence of her hand is disappointing.
It doesn't matter now. The auction is finished, and we can have our fun.
"Ready?"
"Yes," she whispers.
I'm about to stand, to slip away with her in the crowd before the dancing gets underway, when I hear Mia call for her: "Ana! It's time!"
Time? Time for fucking what?
Damn my little sister.
"Time for what?" Ana calls back.
"The First Dance Auction," Mia explains, as if it's obvious. "Come on!" She stands, offering her hand to Ana.
I glare at Mia. Damn my little sister. Damn her for roping Ana into this. Damn her for the timing of everything.
Suddenly, Anastasia bursts into laughter, and as unexpected as it is, it is also cathartic. I feel myself relax at the sound of her laughter, and I suddenly see the humor in it, too.
"The first dance will be with me, okay?" I hiss wickedly, playfully, into her ear, "And it won't be on the dance floor."
Abruptly, her bell-like chorusing fades.
"I look forward to it," she says, kisses me softly, abruptly, on the lips.
Around us, everyone looks absolutely astonished at our blatant PDA. Ana looks embarrassed, but I can't help the broad grin that bursts onto my face.
That's right everyone... Drink it up.