Oh boy, is this tempting. Run away to Georgia. Grab some sunshine, some cocktails. My mother’s good humor… her loving arms.
　　“I have two job interviews in Seattle on Monday.”
　　“Oh, that’s wonderful news.”
　　The door opens and Kate appears, grinning at me. Her face falls when she sees I’ve been crying.
　　“Mom, I have to go. I’ll think about a visit. Thank you.”
　　“Honey, please, don’t let a man get under your skin. You’re far too young. Go and enjoy yourself.”
　　“Yes, Mom, love you.”
　　“Oh, Ana, I love you too, so much. Stay safe, honey.” I hang up and face Kate who glares at me.
　　“Has that obscenely rich fucker upset you again?”
　　“No… sort of… err… yes.”
　　“Just tell him to take a hike, Ana. You’ve been so up and down since you met him. I’ve never seen you like this.”
　　The world of Katherine Kavanagh is very clear, very black and white. Not the intangible, mysterious, vague hues of gray that color my world. Welcome to my world.
　　“Sit, let’s talk. Let’s have some wine. Oh, you’ve had champagne.” She spies the bottle. “Some good stuff too.”
　　I smile ineffectually, looking apprehensively at the couch. I approach it with caution. Hmm… sitting.
　　“Are you okay?”
　　“I fell over and landed on my behind.”
　　She doesn’t think to question my explanation, because I am one of the most un-coordinated people in Washington State. I never thought I’d see that as a blessing. I sit down gingerly, pleasantly surprised that I’m okay, and turn my attention to Kate, but my mind glazes over and I’m pulled back to the Heathman – “Well, if you were mine you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday.” He said it then, and all
　　I could concentrate on at the time was being his. All the warning signs were there, I was just too clueless and too enamored to notice.
　　Kate comes back into the living area with a bottle of red wine and washed teacups.
　　“Here we go.” She hands me a cup of wine. It won’t taste as good as the Bolly.
　　“Ana, if he’s a jerk with commitment issues, dump him. Though I don’t really understand his commitment issues. He couldn’t take his eyes off you in the marquee, watched you like a hawk. I’d say he was completely smitten, but maybe he has a funny way of showing it.”
　　Smitten? Christian? Funny way of showing it? I’ll say.
　　“Kate, it’s complicated. How was your evening?” I ask.
　　I can’t talk this through with Kate without revealing too much, but one question on her day and Kate is off. It’s so reassuring to sit and listen to her normal chatter. The hot news is that Ethan may be coming to live with us after their holiday. That will be fun – Ethan is a hoot. I frown. I don’t think Christian will approve. Well… tough. He’ll just have to suck it up. I have a couple of teacups of wine and decide to call it a night. It’s been one very long day. Kate hugs me, and then grabs the phone to call Elliot.
　　I check the mean machine after I brush my teeth. There’s an email from Christian.
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: You
　　Date: May 26 2011 23:14
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Dear Miss Steele
　　You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty and brave woman I have ever met. Take some Advil – this is not a request. And don’t drive your Beetle again. I will know.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　Oh, not drive my car again! I type out my reply.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Flattery
　　Date: May 26 2011 23:20
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Dear Mr. Grey
　　Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you’ve been everywhere the point is moot.
　　I will need to drive my Beetle to a garage so I can sell it – so will not graciously accept any of your nonsense over that. Red wine is always more preferable to Advil.
　　Ana
　　PS: Caning is a HARD limit for me.
　　I hit send.
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Frustrating women who can’t take compliments
　　Date: May 26 2011 23:26
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Dear Ms. Steele
　　I am not flattering you. You should go to bed.
　　I accept your addition to the hard limits.
　　Don’t drink too much.
　　Taylor will dispose of your car and get a good price for it too.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Taylor – Is he the right man for the job?
　　Date: May 26 2011 23:40
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Dear Sir
　　I am intrigued that you are happy to risk letting your right hand man drive my car – but not some woman you fuck occasionally. How can I be sure that Taylor is the man to get me the best deal for said car? I have, in the past, probably before I met you, been known to drive a hard bargain.
　　Ana
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Careful!
　　Date: May 26 2011 23:44
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Dear Ms. Steele
　　I am assuming it is the RED WINE talking, and that you’ve had a very long day.
　　Though I am tempted to drive back over there to ensure that you don’t sit down for a week, rather than an evening.
　　Taylor is ex-army and capable of driving anything from a motorcycle to a Sherman Tank. Your car does not present a hazard to him.
　　Now please do not refer to yourself as ‘some woman I fuck occasionally’ because, quite frankly it makes me MAD, and you really wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Careful yourself
　　Date: May 26 2011 23:57
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Dear Mr. Grey
　　I’m not sure I like you anyway, especially at the moment.
　　Ms. Steele
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Careful yourself
　　Date: May 27 2011 00:03
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Why don’t you like me?
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Careful yourself
　　Date: May 27 2011 00:09
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Because you never stay with me.
　　There, that’s given him something to think about. I shut the machine down with a flourish I don’t really feel and crawl into my bed. I switch off my sidelight and stare up at the ceiling. It’s been one long day, one emotional wrench after another. It was heartwarming to spend some time with Ray. He looked well, and weirdly he approved of Christian. Jeez, Kate and her gargantuan mouth. Hearing Christian speak about being hungry. What the hell is that all about? God, and the car. I haven’t even told Kate about the new car. What was Christian thinking?
　　And then this evening, he actually hit me. I’ve never been hit in my life. What have I gotten myself into? Very slowly, my tears, halted by Kate’s arrival, begin to slide down the side of my face and into my ears. I have fallen for someone who’s so emotionally shut down, I will only get hurt – deep down I know this – someone who by his own admission
　　is completely fucked up. Why is he so fucked up? It must be awful to be as affected as he is, and the thought that as a toddler he suffered some unbearable cruelty makes me cry harder. Perhaps if he was more normal he wouldn’t want you, my subconscious contributes snidely to my musings… and in my heart of hearts I know this is true. I turn into my pillow and the sluice gates open… and for the first time in years, I am sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow.
　　I am momentarily distracted from my dark night of the soul by Kate shouting.
　　“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
　　“Well you can’t!”
　　“What the fuck have you done to her now?”
　　“Since she’s met you she cries all the time.”
　　“You can’t come in here!”
　　Christian bursts into my bedroom and unceremoniously switches on the overhead light, making me squint.
　　“Jesus, Ana,” he mutters. He flicks the switch off again and is at my side in a moment.
　　“What are you doing here?” I gasp between sobs. Crap. I can’t stop crying.
　　He switches on the sidelight making me squint again. Kate comes and stands in the doorway.
　　“Do you want me to throw this asshole out?” she asks, radiating thermo-nuclear hostility.
　　Christian raises his eyebrows at her, no doubt surprised by her flattering epithet and her feral antagonism. I shake my head, and she rolls her eyes at me. Oh… I wouldn’t do that near Mr. G.
　　“Just holler if you need me,” she says more gently. “Grey – your cards are marked,” she hisses at him. He nods at her, and she turns and pulls the door to but doesn’t close it.
　　Christian gazes down at me, his expression grave, his face ashen. He’s wearing his pinstriped jacket, and from his inside pocket, he pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to me. I think I still have his other one somewhere.
　　“What’s going on?” he asks quietly.
　　“Why are you here?” I ask, ignoring his question. My tears have miraculously ceased, but I’m left with dry heaves racking my body.
　　“Part of my role is to look after your needs. You said you wanted me to stay, so here I am. And yet I find you like this.” He blinks at me, truly bewildered. “I’m sure I’m responsible, but I have no idea why. Is it because I hit you?”
　　I pull myself up, wincing from my sore behind. I sit and face him.
　　“Did you take some Advil?”
　　I shake my head. He narrows his eyes, stands, and leaves the room. I hear him talking to Kate but not what they are saying. He’s back a few moments later with pills and a teacup of water.
　　“Take these,” he orders gently as he sits on my bed beside me.
　　I do as I’m told.
　　“Talk to me,” he whispers. “You told me you were okay. I’d never have left you if I thought you were like this.”
　　I stare down at my hands. What can I say that I haven’t said already? I want more. I want him to stay because he wants to stay with me, not because I’m a blubbering mess, and I don’t want him to beat me, is that so unreasonable?
　　“I take it that when you said you were okay, you weren’t.”
　　I flush.
　　“I thought I was fine.”
　　“Anastasia, you can’t tell me what you think I want to hear. That’s not very honest,” he admonishes me. “How can I trust anything you’ve said to me?”
　　I peek up at him, and he’s frowning, a bleak look in his eye. He runs both hands through his hair.
　　“How did you feel while I was hitting you and after?”
　　“I didn’t like it. I’d rather you didn’t do it again.”
　　“You weren’t meant to like it.”
　　“Why do you like it?” I stare up at him.
　　My question surprises him.
　　“You really want to know?”
　　“Oh, trust me, I’m fascinated.” And I can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
　　He narrows his eyes again.
　　“Careful,” he warns.
　　I blanch.
　　“Are you going to hit me again?” I challenge.
　　“No, not tonight.”

　　Phew... my subconscious and I both breathe a silent sigh of relief.
　　“So,” I prompt.
　　“I like the control it brings me, Anastasia. I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I’ve wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay.”
　　I flush at the memory. Jeez, I wanted to spank myself after that question. So Katherine Kavanagh is responsible for all this, and if she’d gone to that interview and asked her gay question, she’d be sitting here with the sore ass. I don’t like that thought. How confusing is this?
　　“So you don’t like the way I am.”
　　He stares at me, bewildered again.
　　“I think you’re lovely the way you are.”
　　“So why are you trying to change me?”
　　“I don’t want to change you. I’d like you to be courteous and to follow the set of rules I’ve given you and not defy me. Simple,” he says.
　　“But you want to punish me?”
　　“Yes I do.”
　　“That’s what I don’t understand.”
　　He sighs and runs his hands through his hair again.
　　“It’s the way I’m made, Anastasia. I need to control you. I need you to behave in a certain way, and if you don’t – I love to watch your beautiful alabaster skin pink and warm up under my hands. It turns me on.”
　　Holy shit. Now we’re getting somewhere.
　　“So it’s not the pain you’re putting me through?”
　　He swallows.
　　“A bit, to see if you can take it, but that’s not the whole reason. It’s the fact that you are mine to do with as I see fit – ultimate control over someone else. And it turns me on. Big time, Anastasia. Look, I’m not explaining myself very well… I’ve never had to before. I’ve not really thought about this in any great depth. I’ve always been with like-minded people,” he shrugs apologetically. “And you still haven’t answered my question – how did you feel afterwards?”
　　“Confused.”
　　“You were sexually aroused by it, Anastasia,” he closes his eyes briefly, and when he re-opens them and gazes at me, they are smoldering smoky embers.
　　His expression pulls at that dark part of me, buried in the depths of my belly – my libido, woken and tamed by him, but even now, insatiable.
　　“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.
　　I frown. Jeez what have I done now?
　　“I don’t have any condoms, Anastasia, and you know, you’re upset. Contrary to what your roommate believes, I’m not a priapic monster. So, you felt confused?”
　　I squirm under his intense gaze.
　　“You have no problem being honest with me in print. Your emails always tell me exactly how you feel. Why can’t you do that in conversation? Do I intimidate you that much?”
　　I pick at an imaginary spot on my mother’s blue and cream quilt.
　　“You beguile me, Christian. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the Sun,” I whisper.
　　He gasps.
　　“Well, I think you’ve got that the wrong way around,” he whispers.
　　“What?”
　　“Oh, Anastasia, you’ve bewitched me. Isn’t it obvious?”
　　No, not to me. Bewitched… my inner goddess is staring open-mouthed. Even she doesn’t believe this.
　　“You’ve still not answered my question. Write me an email, please. But right now, I’d really like to sleep. Can I stay?”
　　“Do you want to stay?” I can’t hide the hope in my voice.
　　“You wanted me here.”
　　“You haven’t answered my question.”
　　“I’ll write you an email,” he mutters petulantly.
　　Standing, he empties his jeans pockets of BlackBerry, keys, wallet, and money. Holy cow, men carry a lot of crap in their pockets. He strips off his watch, his shoes, socks, and jeans and places his jacket over my chair. He walks round to the other side of the bed and slides in.
　　“Lie down,” he orders.
　　I slip slowly under the covers, wincing slightly, staring at him. Jeez… he’s staying. I think I’m numb with elated shock. He leans up on one elbow staring down at me.
　　“If you are going to cry. Cry in front of me. I need to know.”
　　“Do you want me to cry?”
　　“Not particularly. I just want to know how you’re feeling. I don’t want you slipping through my fingers. Switch the light off. It’s late, and we both have to work tomorrow.”
　　So here… and still so bossy, but I can’t complain, he’s in my bed. I don’t quite understand why… maybe I should weep more often in front of him. I switch off the bedside light.
　　“Lie on your side, facing away from me,” he murmurs in the darkness.
　　I roll my eyes in the full knowledge that he cannot see me, but I do as I’m told. Gingerly, he moves over and puts his arms around me and pulls me to his chest… oh my.
　　“Sleep, baby,” he whispers, and I feel his nose in my hair as he inhales deeply.
　　Holy cow. Christian Grey is sleeping with me, and in the comfort and solace of his arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.
　　The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprinkling dusty scales in the circle of light. I’m struggling to resist, but I’m drawn. And then it’s so bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavors to stay airborne. I am so warm. The heat… it’s stifling, overpowering. It wakes me.
　　I open my eyes, and I’m draped in Christian Grey. He’s wrapped around me like a victory flag. He’s fast asleep with his head on my chest, his arm over me, holding me close, one of his legs thrown over and hooked around both of mine. He’s suffocating me with his body heat, and he’s heavy. I take a moment to absorb that he’s still in my bed and fast asleep, and it’s light outside – morning. He has spent the whole night with me.
　　My right arm is stretched, no doubt in search of a cool spot, and as I process the fact that he’s still with me, the thought occurs that I can touch him. He’s asleep. Tentatively, I lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers down his back. Deep in his throat, I hear a faint distressed groan, and he stirs. He nuzzles my chest, inhaling deeply as he wakes. Sleepy, blinking gray eyes meet mine beneath his tousled mop of hair.
　　“Good morning,” he mumbles and frowns. “Jesus, even in my sleep I’m drawn to you.” He moves slowly, unpeeling his limbs from me as he gets his bearings. I become
　　aware of his erection against my hip. He notices my wide-eyed reaction, and he smiles a slow sexy smile.
　　“Hmm… this has possibilities, but I think we should wait until Sunday.” He leans down and nuzzles my ear with his nose.
　　I flush, but then I feel seven shades of scarlet from his heat.
　　“You’re very hot,” I murmur.
　　“You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs and presses himself against me, suggestively.
　　I flush some more. That’s not what I meant. He props himself up on his elbow gazing down at me, amused. He bends, and to my surprise, plants a gentle kiss on my lips.
　　“Sleep well?” he asks.
　　I nod, staring up at him, and I realize that I’ve slept very well except maybe for the last half-hour when I was too hot.
　　“So did I.” He frowns. “Yes, really well.” He raises his eyebrows in confused surprise. “What’s the time?”
　　I glance at my alarm.
　　“It’s 7:30.”
　　“7:30… shit.” He scrambles out of bed and drags on his jeans.
　　It is my turn to look amused as I sit up. Christian Grey is late and flustered. This is something I have never seen before. I belatedly realize that my behind is no longer sore.
　　“You are such a bad influence on me. I have a meeting. I have to go – I have to be in Portland at eight. Are you smirking at me?”
　　“Yes.”
　　He grins.
　　“I’m late. I don’t do late. Another first, Miss Steele.” He pulls on his jacket and then bends down and grasps my head, his hands on either side.
　　“Sunday,” he says, and the word is pregnant with an unspoken promise. Everything deep in my body uncurls and then clenches in delicious anticipation, the feeling is exquisite.
　　Holy hell, if my mind could just keep up with my body. He leans forward and kisses me quickly. He grabs his stuff from my side table and his shoes – which he doesn’t put on.
　　“Taylor will come and sort your Beetle. I was serious. Don’t drive it. I’ll see you at my place on Sunday. I’ll email you a time.” And like a whirlwind, he’s gone.
　　Oh my, Christian Grey spent the night with me, and I feel rested. And there was no sex, only cuddling. He told me he never slept with anyone – but he’s slept three times with me. I grin and slowly climb out of my bed. I feel more optimistic than I have for the last day or so. I head for the kitchen, needing a cup of tea.
　　After breakfast, I shower and dress quickly for my last day at Clayton’s. It is the end of an era – goodbye to Mr. & Mrs. Clayton, WSU, Vancouver, the apartment, my Beetle. I glance at the mean machine – it’s only 7:52. I have time.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Assault and Battery: The after-effects
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:05
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Dear Mr. Grey
　　You wanted to know why I felt confused after you – which euphemism should we apply - spanked, punished, beat, assaulted me. Well during the whole alarming process I felt demeaned, debased and abused. And much to my mortification, you’re right, I was aroused, and that was unexpected. As you are well aware, all things sexual are new to me – I only wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared. I was shocked to feel aroused.
　　What really worried me was how I felt afterwards. And that’s more difficult to articulate. I was happy that you were happy. I felt relieved that it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt – sated. But I feel very uncomfortable, guilty even, feeling that way. It doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m confused as a result. Does that answer your question?
　　I hope the world of Mergers and Acquisitions is as stimulating as ever… and that you weren’t too late.
　　Thank you for staying with me.
　　Ana
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Free Your Mind
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:24
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Interesting… if slightly overstated title heading Miss Steele.
　　To answer your points:
　　? I’ll go with spanking – as that’s what it was.
　　? So you felt demeaned, debased, abused & assaulted – how very Tess Durbeyfield of you. I believe it was you who decided on the debasement if I remember correctly. Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try and embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That’s what a submissive would do.

　　? I am grateful for your inexperience. I value it, and I’m only beginning to understand what it means. Simply put… it means that you are mine in every way.
　　? Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing, there’s nothing wrong with that.
　　? Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close.
　　? Punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking – so that’s about as hard as it gets, unless of course you commit some major transgression, in which case I’ll use some implement to punish you with. My hand was very sore. But I like that.
　　? I felt sated too - more so than you could ever know.
　　? Don’t waste your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing etc. We are consenting adults and what we do behind closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free your mind and listen to your body.
　　? The world of M&A is not nearly as stimulating as you are Miss Steele.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　Holy crap… mine in every way. My breath hitches.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Consenting Adults!
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:26
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Aren’t you in a meeting?
　　I’m very glad your hand was sore.
　　And if I listened to my body, I’d be in Alaska by now.
　　Ana
　　PS: I will think about embracing these feelings.
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: You Didn’t Call the Cops
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:35
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Miss Steele
　　I am in a meeting discussing the futures market if you’re really interested.
　　For the record - you stood beside me knowing what I was going to do.
　　You didn’t at any time ask me to stop – you didn’t use either safe word.
　　You are an adult – you have choices.
　　Quite frankly, I’m looking forward to the next time my palm is ringing with pain.
　　You’re obviously not listening to the right part of your body.
　　Alaska is very cold and no place to run. I would find you.
　　I can track your cell phone – remember?
　　Go to work.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　I scowl at the screen. He’s right of course. It’s my choice. Hmm. Is he serious about coming to find me, should I decide to escape for a while? My mind flits briefly to my mother’s offer. I hit reply.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Stalker
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:36
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Have you sought therapy for your stalker tendencies?
　　Ana
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Stalker? Me?
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:38
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　I pay the eminent Dr. Flynn a small fortune with regard to my stalker and other tendencies.
　　Go to work.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Expensive Charlatans
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:40
　　To: Christian Grey
　　May I humbly suggest you seek a second opinion?
　　I am not sure that Dr. Flynn is very effective.
　　Miss Steele
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Second Opinions
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:43
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Not that it’s any of your business, humble or otherwise, but Dr. Flynn is the second
　　opinion.
　　You will have to speed, in your new car, putting yourself at unnecessary risk – I think that’s against the rules.
　　GO TO WORK.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: SHOUTY CAPITALS
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:47
　　To: Christian Grey
　　As the object of your stalker tendencies – I think it is my business actually.
　　I haven’t signed yet. So rules schmules. And I don’t start until 9:30.
　　Miss Steele
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Descriptive Linguistics
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:49
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Schmules? Not sure where that appears in Webster’s Dictionary
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Descriptive Linguistics
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:52
　　To: Christian Grey
　　It’s between control freak and stalker.
　　And descriptive linguistics is a hard limit for me.
　　Will you stop bothering me now?
　　I’d like to go to work in my new car.
　　Ana
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Challenging but amusing Young Women
　　Date: May 27 2011 08:56
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　My palm is twitching.
　　Drive safely Miss Steele.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　The Audi is a joy to drive. It has power steering. Wanda, my Beetle, has no power in it at all – anywhere, so my daily workout, which was driving my Beetle, will cease. Oh, but I will have a personal trainer to contend with, according to Christian’s rules. I frown. I hate exercising.
　　While I am driving, I try and analyze our email exchange. He’s a patronizing son-of-a-bitch sometimes. And then I think of Grace and I feel guilty. But of course, she wasn’t his birth mother. Hmm that’s a whole world of unknown pain. Well, patronizing son-of-a-bitch works well then. Yes. I’m an adult, thank you for reminding me, Christian Grey, and it is my choice. The problem is, I just want Christian, not all his… baggage – and right now he has a 747 hold’s worth of baggage. Could I just lie back and embrace it? Like a submissive? I’ve said I’d try. It’s an awfully big ask.
　　I pull into the parking lot at Clayton’s. As I make my way in, I can hardly believe it’s my last day. Fortunately, the store is busy and time passes quickly. At lunchtime, Mr. Clayton summons me from the stockroom. He’s standing beside a motorcycle courier.
　　“Miss Steele?” the courier asks. I frown questioningly at Mr. Clayton, who shrugs, as puzzled as me. My heart sinks. What has Christian sent me now? I sign for the small package and open it straight away. It’s a BlackBerry. My heart sinks further. I switch it on.
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: BlackBerry ON LOAN
　　Date: May 27 2011 11:15
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　I need to be able to contact you at all times, and since this is your most honest form of communication, I figured you needed a BlackBerry.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: Consumerism Gone Mad
　　Date: May 27 2011 13:22
　　To: Christian Grey
　　I think you need to call Dr. Flynn right now.
　　Your stalker tendencies are running wild.
　　I am at work. I will email you when I get home.
　　Thank you for yet another gadget.
　　I wasn’t wrong when I said you were the ultimate consumer.
　　Why do you do this?
　　Ana
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Sagacity from one so young
　　Date: May 27 2011 13:24
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Fair point-well made, as ever Miss Steele.
　　Dr. Flynn is on vacation.
　　And I do this because I can.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　I put the thing in my back pocket, hating it already. Emailing Christian is addictive, but I am supposed to be working. It buzzes once against my behind… how apt, I think ironically, but summoning all my willpower, I ignore it.
　　At four, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton gather all the other employees in the shop, and during a hair-curlingly embarrassing speech, present me with a check for three hundred dollars. In that moment, three weeks of – exams, graduation, intense, fucked-up billionaires, deflowering,
　　hard & soft limits, playrooms with no consoles, helicopter rides – and the fact that I will move tomorrow, all well up inside me. Amazingly, I hold myself together. My subconscious is in awe. I hug the Claytons hard. They have been kind and generous employers, and I will miss them.
　　Kate is climbing out of her car when I arrive home.
　　“What’s that?” she says accusingly, pointing at the Audi. I can’t resist.
　　“It’s a car,” I quip. She narrows her eyes, and for a brief moment, I wonder if she’s going to put me across her knee too. “My graduation present.” I try and act nonchalant. Yes, I get expensive cars given to me everyday. Her mouth drops open.
　　“Generous, over-the-top bastard, isn’t he?”
　　I nod.
　　“I did try not to accept it, but frankly, it’s just not worth the fight.”
　　Kate purses her lips.
　　“No wonder you’re so overwhelmed. I did note that he stayed.”
　　“Yeah.” I smile wistfully.
　　“Shall we finish packing?”
　　I nod and follow her inside. I check the email from Christian.
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Sunday
　　Date: May 27 2011 13:40
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　Shall I see you at 1 p.m. Sunday?
　　The doctor will be at Escala to see you at 1:30.
　　I’m leaving for Seattle now.
　　I hope your move goes well, and I look forward to Sunday.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　Jeez, he could be discussing the weather. I decide to email him once we’ve finished packing, he can be such fun one minute, and then he can be so formal and stuffy. It’s difficult to keep up. Honestly, it’s like an email to an employee. I roll my eyes at it defiantly and join Kate to pack.
　　Kate and I are in the kitchen when there’s a knock at the door. Taylor stands on the porch, looking immaculate in his suit. I notice the trace of ex-army in his buzz cut, trim physique, and his cool stare.
　　“Miss Steele,” he says. “I’ve come for your car.”
　　“Oh yes, of course. Come in, I’ll fetch the keys.”
　　Surely this is above and beyond the call of duty. I wonder again at Taylor’s job description. I hand him the keys, and we walk in an uncomfortable silence for me - toward the light blue Beetle. I open the door and remove the flashlight from the glove box. That’s it. I have nothing else that’s personal in the Wanda. Goodby,, Wanda. Thank you. I caress her roof as I close the passenger door.
　　“How long have you worked for Mr. Grey?” I ask.
　　“Four years, Miss Steele.”
　　Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to bombard him with questions. What this man must know about Christian, all his secrets. But then he’s probably signed an NDA. I look nervously at him. He has the same taciturn expression as Ray, and I warm to him.
　　“He’s a good man, Miss Steele,” he says, and he smiles slightly. With that, he gives me a little nod, climbs into my car, and drives away.
　　Apartment, Beetle, Claytons – it’s all change now. I shake my head as I wander back inside. And the biggest change of all is Christian Grey. Taylor thinks he’s a good man. Can I believe him?
　　José joins us with a Chinese take-out at eight. We’re done. We’re packed and ready to go. He brings several bottles of beer, and Kate and I sit on the couch while he’s cross-legged on the floor between us. We watch crap TV, drink beer, and as the evening wears on, we fondly and loudly reminisce as the beer takes effect. It’s been a good four years.
　　The atmosphere between José and I has returned to normal, the attempted kiss forgotten. Well, it’s been swept under the rug that my inner goddess is lying on, eating grapes and tapping her fingers, waiting not so patiently for Sunday. There’s a knock on the door, and my heart leaps into my throat. Is it?
　　Kate answers the door and is nearly knocked off her feet by Elliot. He seizes her in a Hollywood-style clinch that moves quickly into a European art house embrace. Honestly… get a room. José and I stare at each other. I’m appalled at their lack of modesty.

　　“Shall we walk down to the bar?” I ask José, who nods frantically. We are too uncomfortable with the unrestrained sexing unfolding in front of us. Kate looks up at me, flushed and bright-eyed.
　　“José and I are going for a quick drink.” I roll my eyes at her. Ha! I can still roll my eyes in my own time.
　　“Okay,” she grins.
　　“Hi Elliot, bye Elliot.”
　　He winks a big blue eye at me, and José and I are out of the door, giggling like teenagers.
　　As we stroll down to the bar, I put my arm through José’s. God, he’s so uncomplicated - I hadn’t really appreciated that before.
　　“You’ll still come to the opening of my show, won’t you?”
　　“Of course, José, when is it?”
　　“June 9.”
　　“What day is that?” I suddenly panic.
　　“It’s a Thursday.”
　　“Yeah I should make that… and you will visit us in Seattle?”
　　“Try and stop me.” He grins.
　　It’s late when I arrive back from the bar. Kate and Elliot are nowhere to be seen but boy can they be heard. Holy shit. I hope I’m not that loud. I know Christian isn’t. I flush at the thought and escape to my room. After a brief not-at-all-awkward-thank-goodness hug, José has gone. I don’t know when I’ll see him again, probably his photographic show, and once again, I’m blown away that he finally has an exhibition. I shall miss him and his boyish charm. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the Beetle, I know he’ll freak when he finds out, and I can only deal with one man at a time freaking out at me. Once in my room, I check the mean machine, and of course, there’s an email from Christian.
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Where Are You?
　　Date: May 27 2011 22:14
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　‘I am at work. I will email you when I get home.’
　　Are you still at work or have you packed your phone, BlackBerry and MacBook?
　　Call me, or I may be forced to call Elliot.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　Crap… José… shit.
　　I grab my phone. Five missed calls and one voice message. Tentatively, I listen to the message. It’s Christian.
　　‘I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have the decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and it’s not an emotion I’m familiar with, and I don’t tolerate it very well. Call me.’
　　Double crap. Will he ever give me a break? I scowl at the phone. He is suffocating me. With a deep dread uncurling in my stomach, I scroll down to his number and press dial. My heart is in my mouth as I wait for him to answer. He’d probably like to beat seven shades of shit out of me. The thought is depressing.
　　“Hi,” he says softly, and his response knocks me off balance because I am expecting his anger, but if anything, he sounds relieved.
　　“Hi,” I murmur.
　　“I was worried about you.”
　　“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t reply, but I’m fine.”
　　He pauses for a beat.
　　“Did you have a pleasant evening?” He is crisply polite.
　　“Yes. We finished packing and Kate and I shared a Chinese take-out with José.” I close my eyes tightly as I say José’s name. Christian says nothing.
　　“How about you?” I ask to fill the sudden deafening chasm of silence. I will not let him guilt me out about José.
　　Eventually, he sighs.
　　“I went to a fundraising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could.”
　　He sounds so sad and resigned. My heart clenches. I picture him all those nights ago sat at the piano in his huge living room and the unbearable bittersweet melancholy of the music he was playing.
　　“I wish you were here,” I whisper, because I have an urge to hold him. Soothe him. Even though he won’t let me. I want his proximity.
　　“Do you?” he murmurs blandly. Holy mackerel. This doesn’t sound like him, and my scalp prickles with dawning apprehension.
　　“Yes,” I breathe. After an eternity, he sighs.
　　“I’ll see you Sunday?”
　　“Yes, Sunday,” I murmur, and a thrill courses through my body.
　　“Goodnight.”
　　“Goodnight, Sir.”
　　My address catches him unawares, I can tell by his sharp intake of breath.
　　“Good luck with your move tomorrow, Anastasia.” His voice is soft. And we’re both hanging on the phone like teenagers, neither wanting to hang up.
　　“You hang up,” I whisper. Finally, I sense his smile.
　　“No, you hang up.” And I know he’s grinning.
　　“I don’t want to.”
　　“Neither do I.”
　　“Were you very angry with me?”
　　“Yes.”
　　“Are you still?”
　　“No.”
　　“So you’re not going to punish me?”
　　“No. I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy.”
　　“I’ve noticed.”
　　“You can hang up now, Miss Steele.”
　　“Do you really want me to, Sir?”
　　“Go to bed, Anastasia.”
　　“Yes, Sir.”
　　We both stay on the line.
　　“Do you ever think you’ll be able to do what you’re told?” He’s amused and exasperated at once.
　　“Maybe. We’ll see after Sunday.” And I press ‘end’ on the phone.
　　Elliot stands and admires his handiwork. He has re-plugged our TV into the satellite system in our Pike Place Market apartment. Kate and I flop on to the couch giggling, impressed by his prowess with a power drill. The flat screen looks odd against the brickwork of the converted warehouse, but no doubt I will get used to it.
　　“See, baby, easy.” He grins a wide white-toothed smile at Kate, and she almost literally dissolves into the couch.
　　I roll my eyes at the pair of them.
　　“I’d love to stay, baby, but my sister is back from Paris. It’s a compulsory family dinner tonight.”
　　“Can you come by after?” Kate asks tentatively, all soft and un-Katelike.
　　I stand and make my way over to the kitchen area on the pretense of unpacking one of the crates. They are going to get icky.
　　“I’ll see if I can escape,” he promises.
　　“I’ll come down with you.” Kate smiles.
　　“Laters, Ana.” Elliot grins.
　　“Bye, Elliot. Say hi to Christian from me.”
　　“Just hi?” His eyebrows shoot up suggestively.
　　“Yes.” I flush. He winks at me, and I go crimson as he follows Kate out of the apartment.
　　Elliot is adorable and so different from Christian. He’s warm, open, physical, very physical, too physical, with Kate. They can barely keep their hands off each other – to be honest it’s embarrassing - and I am pea-green with envy.
　　Kate returns about twenty minutes later with pizza, and we sit, surrounded by crates, in our new open space, eating straight from the box. Kate’s dad has done us proud. The apartment is not large, but it’s big enough, three bedrooms and a large living space that looks out on to Pike Place Market itself. It’s all solid wood floors and red brick, and the kitchen tops are smooth concrete, very utilitarian, very now. We both love that we will be in the heart of the city.
　　At eight the entry-phone buzzes. Kate leaps up - and my heart leaps into my mouth.
　　“Delivery, Miss Steele, Miss Kavanagh.” Disappointment flows freely and unexpectedly through my veins. It’s not Christian.
　　“Second floor, apartment two.”
　　Kate buzzes the delivery boy in. His mouth falls open when he sees Kate, all tight jeans, t-shirt, hair piled high with escaping tendrils. She has that effect on men. He holds a bottle of champagne with a helicopter-shaped balloon attached. She gives him a dazzling smile to send him on his way and proceeds to read the card out to me.
　　Ladies, Good luck in your new home, Christian Grey.
　　Kate shakes her head in disapproval.
　　“Why can’t he just write ‘from Christian’? And what’s with the weird helicopter balloon?”
　　“Charlie Tango.”
　　“What?”
　　“Christian flew me to Seattle in his helicopter.” I shrug.
　　Kate stares at me open mouthed. I have to say – I love these occasions – Katherine Kavanagh, silent and floored, they are so rare. I take a brief and luxurious moment to enjoy it.
　　“Yep, he has a helicopter, which he flew himself,” I state proudly.
　　“Of course the obscenely rich bastard has a helicopter. Why didn’t you tell me?” Kate looks accusingly at me, but she’s smiling, shaking her head in disbelief.
　　“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
　　She frowns.
　　“Are you going to be okay while I’m away?”
　　“Of course.” I answer reassuringly. New city, no job… nut-job boyfriend.
　　“Did you give him our address?
　　“No, but stalking is one of his specialties.” I muse, matter-of-fact.
　　Kate’s brow knits further.
　　“Somehow I’m not surprised. He worries me, Ana. At least it’s a good champagne and it’s chilled.”
　　Of course, only Christian would send chilled champagne or get his secretary to do it… or maybe Taylor. We open it there and then and find our teacups - they were the last items to be packed.
　　“Bollinger Grande Année Rosé 1999, an excellent vintage.” I grin at Kate, and we clink teacups.
　　I wake early to a gray Sunday morning after a surprisingly refreshing night’s sleep and lie awake staring at my crates. You should really be unpacking these, my subconscious nags, pursing her harpy lips together. No… today’s the day. My inner goddess is beside herself, hopping from foot to foot. Anticipation hangs heavy and portentous over my head like a dark tropical storm cloud. Butterflies flood my belly – as well as a darker, carnal, captivating ache as I try to imagine what he will do to me… and of course, I have to sign that damned contract or do I? I hear the ping of incoming mail from the mean machine on the floor beside my bed.
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: My Life in Numbers
　　Date: May 29 2011 08:04
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　If you drive you’ll need this access code for the underground garage at Escala: 146963
　　Park in bay 5 – it’s one of mine.
　　Code for the elevator: 1880
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
　　From: Anastasia Steele
　　Subject: An excellent Vintage
　　Date: May 29 2011 08:08
　　To: Christian Grey
　　Yes Sir. Understood.
　　Thank you for the champagne and the blow-up Charlie Tango, which is now tied to my bed.
　　Ana
　　From: Christian Grey
　　Subject: Envy
　　Date: May 29 2011 08:11
　　To: Anastasia Steele
　　You’re welcome.
　　Don’t be late.
　　Lucky Charlie Tango.
　　Christian Grey
　　CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.