Not gonna lie, I struggled a bit with this chapter. There were a lot of ideas I had that I started then thought better of and eventually changed. I'm not saying it's a masterpiece, but I like where it's going. What do you think is going to happen next? Obviously, she'll graduate... but other than that. My next big thing that we have to look forward to will be the inevitable introduction of Elena Lincoln. Oooooh! So exciting. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

That will come later.


Ch 18: Dressing the Part


After our "snack-n-smack" session, Christian shows me to a walk-in closet, my walk-in closet.

"Obviously, there's more, at Escala," he say, opening the doors. Holy crap, more?! The closet is filled with a number of full-length gowns, as well as an array of cotton, linen, wool, and silk blouses, skirts, pants, and dresses. There's drawers upon drawers of bras, panties, garter belts, and thigh-highs. Three whole drawers are filled with jewelry. There are at least fifteen pairs of shoes — all heels except one pair of athletic sneakers which sit displayed next to a sports bra, white tube socks, and a pair of the tiniest gym shorts I've ever seen.

"Obviously," is all I can eek out.

As I'm ogling the incredibly adult-looking assortment of clothes and accessories (Is that a Birkin?), Christian takes my hand. "Will you wear what I picked out for you today? You don't have to." He sounds so unsure, so unlike himself in this moment. He's asking permission for something. My guess is he's not used to doing that. I nod, grateful to not have to make any decisions right now. Grateful, too, that I'll have some underwear on when I meet Ray in an hour and a half.

He squeezes my hand gently before pulling out a red silk sleeveless blouse and a black pencil skirt, hanging them on the hook by the door to the closet. He then places a pair of black suede pumps beneath them, pulls out a skimpy lace bra and panty set, setting them on top of the dresser along with rhinestone stud earrings that I suspect may actually be diamonds. Huge diamonds.

"I'll leave you to change," he whispers against my neck, planting a small kiss just behind my ear. It makes me shiver. Before I can think better of it, I grab his hand.

"No, please stay, sir."

The look on his face is almost laughable. He's confused and shocked and more than a little turned on. I can see that fire behind his eyes. Maybe he's a little mad, too. His palm twitches in mine.

"I want you to watch." It's all about honesty, right? The truth of the matter is that I do want him to watch me. I want to leave for breakfast with the knowledge that Christian is remembering what I look like, notimagining it.

That now-familiar mischievous smile appears and I falter. Crap, what did I just volunteer for.

"In that case," he says, snatching the panties from on top of the dresser before rummaging around the drawers and pulling out a new pair. "Why don't you wear these?"

I'm sure the look on my face is less than attractive. "Uh, okay, I mean... I don't know what was wrong with the last pair," I say incredulously, reaching for the drawer.

He grabs my hand inches from the handle. "Do you wish to please me?"

I shift uncomfortably under his stare. "Yes, sir."

"Then you'll wear these."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll put them on last," he says, walking to the door and leaning against the frame to watch me, panties still clutched in his hand.

First things first. I have to clear my head a little. I had a plan. I had thoughts. But now that the moment of truth has arrived, I'm not nearly as brazenly confident as I was when I asked him to watch me get dressed. I look around the closet at all the clothes and feel the panic starting to boil up. I don't know what I'm doing.

"Why don't you start with the shoes?"

I look up at him and see a quiet patience. It's amazing how I can let myself just follow his instructions and feel completely at ease. I never would have expected it. Kate would judge me horrendously for it, I know. She'd say I wasn't being my own woman and that I was setting Women's Lib back a half-century.

Well, this makes me feel sexy.

I saunter over to the Leboutin pumps and slip one foot in, then shifting my weight and holding onto the dresser for balance, I slip my other foot into its shoe. I can't quite get my heel in — they're brand new shoes after all — and kick my heel up to grab the back of the shoe with my finger.

I hear a grunt from behind me and look over my shoulder. Christian's cock is standing at full attention: I can see it clearly through the towel still wrapped around his waist. I nearly lose my footing at the sight and decide to focus on what I'm doing. I crouch down to struggle with the shoe from a different angle, lengthening my legs and standing up slowly when I'm done.

If he wants a show, he'll get a show.

I turn to face him, posing for a moment. "How do I look?"

He doesn't skip a beat. "Fuckable."

I blush crimson. "What shall I put on next, sir?"

"How about the bra," he suggests.

I turn back to the dresser, picking up the soft cup lacy bra and slipping my arm through the straps. I lift my hair out of the way and hook it behind my back, turning towards him to shift my breasts up in the bra.

"How's that?"

"I'm going to enjoy doing this in reverse later."

We continue our little game. Next comes the skirt then the blouse and the earrings. Quite honestly, I'm tempted to go out just like this, but Christian seems to really be looking forward to these panties. God knows what's so special about them.

Finally, I walk over to him, holding out my hand to take them. He holds them up, stretching the material between the index fingers of both hands, displaying them for me.

It's basically a lace belt with a strand of pearls instead of underwear.

"Is that a necklace?"

I'm completely bewildered. It has to be the ugliest necklace I've ever seen.

He shakes his head no. "Here, let me help."

He bends and I put my hands on his shoulders, steadying myself as I lift one foot, then the other, stepping into the sad excuse for panties. He lifts them slowly up my legs, letting his fingers run over my calves, my knees, then lifting my skirt to my thighs and my hips. And then the panties are on.

As predicted, the lace sits high on my hips, much higher than I've ever worn panties before, but the pearls run over my mound, against my clit, up my slit, over my ass, and come up my spine before meeting the lace again. I shift slightly, trying to get used to the hard sensation of the beads, and realize why he wants me to wear these.

"Holy shit," I say under my breath, still holding Christian's shoulders for support. I look up at the satisfied, smoldering look on his face and nearly melt. "I don't know that I can do this, Christian."

He places one hand on the side of my face and kisses me gently, his lips barely touching mine. "You can do this, Miss Steele." Then he slaps me once very hard on the ass, shifting the pearls and nearly making me fall to the floor. I know my eyes shifted to the back of my skull from the nasty pleasure of it. "And that's for calling me 'Christian'."


Suddenly, I find myself in hell. I don't really know how I got here, but I know that it's somehow Christian Grey's fault. The sexy bastard.

I walk as gingerly as I can, trying to keep the pearls from rubbing me the wrong way, as it were, into the diner to meet Ray.

I cannot have an orgasm in front of my dad.

Christian went in ten minutes before me and is sitting at his own table in the corner, eyeing me intently. That look alone has me soaked, the pearls are definitely not helping.

And the car trip over was the worst kind of torture. Besides the constant hum of the engine under me, Christian spent most of the ride sliding his hand up my skirt while he drove. If I tried to swat him away, he would pinch my nipple, looking over at me hungrily. In the end, my fear of crashing won out over my fear of orgasm and I'd let him pet me nearly to the breaking point over and over again.

I'm starting to rethink that policy. Crashing would have been better than this.

Ray jumps up and pulls me into a long embrace. Thankfully I'm able to stay still and only the dripping sensation between my thighs reminds me of how close I am to embarrassing us both. Ray never hugs me, so I'm near tears by the time we sit down.

Shit. I have to sit down, don't I?

What I've discovered about these "underwear" is that sitting down is an intimate affair, as it just increases the pressure tenfold. And did you think sitting was a stationary activity? Oh, well, it probably is... If you're not about to come. I can't seem to sit still in these things. So then it becomes a non-stop party.

Ray holds out my hard-backed (and hard-seated) chair, which mocks me as I slowly lower myself. As Ray pushes it in and I scoot as naturally as I can, my sigh is thankfully masked by a loud chuckle across the diner. Christian is beside himself, laughing into his coffee cup.

Well, I'm glad he's amused.


I magically manage to control myself through breakfast, nodding when appropriate and vaguely following the conversation. I dodge a couple questions about my love life, and then, thankfully, we head out, walking over to the auditorium. When we reach the gates, I give Ray a quick peck on the cheek and tell him I'll see him later.

Thank god. I wasn't really sure how much longer I could last — and if I'm going to come in public, it better not be while I'm standing right next to my dad.

I see Kate down the hallway, holding two caps and gowns, but before I can get her attention, Christian grabs my hand and pulls me down a side hall. I'm practically running behind him — a bad idea, considering — until we come to a random classroom, flinging the door open, pulling me inside. He slams the door shut and pushes me up against it, his hips pressing against me. He pins my wrists above my head with one hand and languidly runs the other down my neck, across my collarbone, and over my breast, pinching my nipple and making me scream slightly. I'm panting from the running, from the closeness of him, from thefucking pearls. I can't take this much longer.

His fingers run down my stomach, lifting the hem of my blouse. They run along the lace of the panties, pulling slightly, moving the pearls along my... Well, my everything. My back arches and my hips press hard into his.

"Did you enjoy breakfast with your father, Anastasia?" he asks, laughing.

"Fuck you, Mr. Grey."

His fingers stop.

"Fuck me?"

My eyes fly open. Oh, I should not have said that.

"I was going to fuck you, Miss Steele," he growls angrily, jerking on the panties. My vision blurs. "But now..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir," I sob.

"Do you want me to let you come, Miss Steele?" he asks, his expression and his movements softening, rubbing me just so.

"Oh, yes, yes. Please, sir."

His hand moves back to my breasts, tweaking the nipples again. "I will let you know when you may come, Anastasia." He leans in closer, his hand cupping my ass, pulling me open, letting the pearls settle even closer to me. "Don't come before that. I will know." He presses himself against me again, pinning me to the door. His cock against my thigh, his lips against my ear, he whispers, "And don't let anyone else know you're coming. I want all your pleasure to be mine."