Google Alert: Christian Grey
New York Times, July 20th 2010: Trial Date Set for Grey Enterprises Holdings Prostitution Ring Scandal. SEATTLE, WA: A trial date has been set for Christian Grey, who is suing subordinate executive Elena Lincoln, the former director of Esclava Salons (A subsidiary of Grey Enterprises Holdings), for fraud and misusing company resources to fund an illegal sex trafficking ring. The two will square off in front of the honorable Judge Palmer Ramsdell on August 19th.
“I don’t know how it happened, Ana,” Jack says, sounding nearly panicked over the phone.
I lean backwards and glance through the small window in the door to the deposition room Christian’s waiting in with his father, trying to gauge his mood. He looks nervous, and quite frankly, I can’t blame him. Both he and Carrick pulled strings to get a speedy trial date and now everything seems to be moving too quickly. All the media attention surrounding us and GEH since the story of the upcoming trial broke has been a little overwhelming, and the details that have been leaked to the media haven’t boded well for Christian. It ended up being a mistake waiting so long to call the police that first night because in the two hours from when I left Elena and when the police arrived at the bar, she’d had the entire place cleaned out. Carrick told us not to worry, that Taylor had more than enough proof of the club’s existence, but the lack of evidence found by the police meant that she was not arrested. Because of this, no criminal charges were brought against her which Carrick is attempting to get around by filing a civil lawsuit against her, hoping the trial will end with the truth coming out and the judge bringing criminal charges against her himself. It’s risky, and it’s going to leave Christian open and vulnerable because of his connection to the club through Esclava, but he was adamant that we move forward.
Still, it’s made this whole ordeal more complicated and stressful for him, especially on days like today.
I need to get back in there…
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head distractedly as I turn my attention back to my phone conversation with Jack. “Tell me one more time what happened.”
“We just got the shipment in of Boyce Fox’s book, and something went wrong at the press. Every single R is printed backwards. We’ve gone through 300 different books on 12 different pallets and they’re all the same. These were supposed to immediately go out for shipment. The release date is Monday, we don’t have time to have them re-printed.”
“Okay, hold on,” I say, and I pull the phone away from my ear as I pace quickly back and forth in front of the door. I see Christian look up at me, his brow furrowed as he’s clearly wondering what’s taking so long. I briefly consider asking him what he thinks we should do, he is the CEO after all… but this is what he hired me for, and an opportunity for me to prove that hiring me was the right decision for SIP and not just his personal life.
“Okay,” I begin, pulling the phone back up to my ear. “Get a hold of Barney, we’ll launch the app early and spin it as a special release of Boyce Fox’s book. Have the press do a re-print and tell them we are not paying for their mistake, if they have a problem with that give them my number. We’ll do a hard copy release a week late as a way of encouraging downloads from the app. In the meantime, book Fox on the Today show and a few of the late night talk shows so he can promote the app release. I’d rather get him on The Daily Show or The Colbert Report over someone like Jimmy Kimmel so we can play up the intellectualism of the book. Besides, that’ll open the market to Millennials.”
“Okay,” Jack replies, and I hear him scribbling something down on paper in the background. “And what do we do about the 100,000 copies that are defective?”
“Have Fox sign 100 of them for us to sell at auction as a limited edition release. We can donate another 10,000 to be added into care packages for deployed soldiers through operation We Are Here and the rest can go to education programs in 3rd world countries.”
“Should I have that publicized?” Jack asks, and I bite down on my lip.
“Ummmm… no. I don’t want GEH to get a bunch of humanitarian press and then have it leaked that we donated defective books.”
“Okay, I’ll get in touch with Barney and keep you updated when I know more.”
“Thank you, Jack,” I tell him, and then hang up the phone and head back into the small office Carrick is using as an examination room.
“Is everything okay?” Christian asks as I take the seat next to him.
“Oh, yeah… Just a little mix up at SIP, but I think I’ve got it figured out. Nothing to worry about.”
He nods and then turns to his father. “What’s taking so long?”
“Relax, son,” Carrick says. “He’s only a few minutes late and notaries are not well known for being on time.”
“Well, I’m not well known for waiting,” Christian says bitterly. “Why do we have to have a notary anyway? You didn’t use one the last time we did this.”
“Yeah, and I seem to remember I wasn’t under oath being a part of your testimony,” Carrick replies pointedly. The muscle in Christian’s jaw tightens as he diverts his eyes away from his father, so I reach out and take his hand under the table and squeeze it reassuringly.
There is a knock on the door and a girl with pale blonde hair and a freckled complexion sticks her head inside.
“Mr. Grey,” She says to Carrick. “The notary and the court reporter have arrived.”
“Thank you,” Carrick says, and he gets out of his seat and hurries out the door after her. Christian and I wait alone in the room for a few minutes, glancing at each other awkwardly every few seconds as we sit there in silence. When Carrick returns, he’s flanked by a girl with dark brown hair that almost perfectly matches her eyes, a man in a suit, which looks entirely too hot for late July, and a woman carrying a leather satchel over her pinstriped blouse.
“Christian, this is Stephanie,” Carrick says gesturing to the dark haired girl. “She’s a junior associate here, but one of our very best. She’ll be conducting your interview today.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grey,” Stephanie says, reaching out to take Christian’s hand, but he ignores her and turns his eyes back to his father.
“You’re not doing the interview?” He asks.
“No,” Carrick shakes his head. “I’m trying to learn from past mistakes. I want you to be honest and straightforward with the statement you give today. Having someone else take your testimony might give you more freedom to do that, take the pressure off.”
“Oh,” Christian says, frowning, but after taking a moment to think, he nods in agreement. I look back to Carrick, who seems to relax a little as Christian accepts his reasoning without argument. Carrick smiles at Stephanie and pulls out a chair for her to sit.
I’ve felt a lot of trepidation over the past few weeks at the uneasy sense of deja vu this whole thing has given me, but Carrick’s approach to the situation today has finally made me feel like this time, it’s different. He’s not leaving anything up to chance. He’s going to fight for his son, and I know that he’s going to fight harder than he’s fought for any client he’s had before, but this time, he won’t take anything for granted or let his relationship with Christian cloud his judgement.
“Alright, let’s get started,” Stephanie says, as she pulls her files and notebook out of her bag. She nods to the notary who then turns to Christian and asks him to stand.
“Will you please state your name for the court reporter?” He asks, nodding to the woman sitting at the end of the table, who is now tapping her fingers rhythmically against the keys of a laptop.
“Christian Trevelyan-Grey,” He says.
“And do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth under pains and penalty of perjury?” The notary asks. Christian takes a deep, bracing breath and nods.
“I do,” He says, and the notary nods for him to take a seat.
“Great, let’s get to it then,” Stephanie says brightly. “I have to say, Mr. Grey, that I have followed your career with some interest. Ever since I was a law student at Berkeley.”
Christian narrows his eyes at her. “And… how long ago was that exactly?”
“Oh, I graduated in 2009. I externed at this lawfirm the previous summer and was hired me right out of law school,” She says with a smile, but that answer doesn’t seem to instill much confidence in Christian.
“I see…” He says uneasily.
“Don’t worry, I’m familiar with your legal history with Mrs. Lincoln. Your father has briefed me on the suit back in 2008 that the two of you were involved in, and I’ve reviewed everything Mr. Taylor has sent to us concerning this case. I even assisted your father on the countersuit you filed earlier this summer against Leila Williams, so I kind of know the ends and outs of everthing you’ve been through, legally. It always seems to be sex related for you, doesn’t it?”
Christian doesn’t say anything, but raises a disapproving eyebrow in response to her question. I take his hand again as Stephanie glances back down at her notes. I think she’s trying to break the ice or build a report with him to make him more comfortable with her, she just doesn’t know Christian well enough to know that this isn’t the way to do that. But, at least she seems to pick up on that, because she’s more serious from that point on, asking very pointed questions that I hadn’t even considered might be relevant, including his previous experience with BDSM.
It’s uncomfortable, for both us, especially after Christian’s revelations a few weeks ago. I can see that Christian doesn’t want to answer the questions Stephanie asks, but he does. It’s a good thing that Carrick had the foresight to bring someone else in because I don’t know if he’d be this open talking to his father, especially since they’ve only just gotten their relationship back on track. When Stephanie’s line of questioning continues on to Christian’s current relationship with BDSM, his tone changes from reluctant to irritated. But as I listen, really listen, to Stephanie’s questions, I think I get the intent…
“You think she’s going to try to turn this around on Christian, don’t you?” I ask, and she turns to me, and smiles.
“I’m sorry, Miss Steele. I know that you’re here for moral support but this is examination is for Mr. Grey, and Mr. Grey only. As he’s the only person under oath at the moment, I’m going to need you to remain silent for the remainder of the examination.”
“Is she?” Christian asks, and Stephanie takes a deep breath.
“We’re covering all of our bases, Mr. Grey. It is possible that, given your history and your position of authority over Mrs. Lincoln, there could be an implication as to your involvement with this business.”
“I didn’t know about it,” Christian says firmly.
“I know that,” Stephanie agrees. “And that’s why I need you to be as open and honest with me as possible, so that I can prove that to a judge.”
I glance worriedly at Christian as he shakes his head back and forth angrily, waiting for him to respond, but he simply entwines his fingers more tightly with mine, turns back to Stephanie, and nods for her to continue.
The interview takes hours and it’s late by the time we’re finally able to leave Christian’s office. The notary and the court reporter both look annoyed at having been kept working so late, but Stephanie seems pleased with the end results of the examination.
“Thank you, Mr. Grey,” She says, reaching out to shake his hand, and, this time, he takes her hand with his. “I appreciate your time.”
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do,” Christian says. Stephanie promises that she will, but once the notary and the reporter step out of the room, she closes the door and then walks to a camera on the wall I hadn’t noticed before, and flicks a switch that turns off the red recording light.
“I have some concerns,” She says, motioning for us to have a seat again. “A lot of this decision could come down to appearances, and if Mrs. Lincoln attempts a countersuit, it could be possible that your home and office will be searched for evidence as to your involvement with the salon business. As a precaution, I would advise that if there are any signs in your residence that you currently practice BDSM in any form, you remove those signs immediately.”
“Understood,” He nods.
“Good,” Stephanie says, smiling again. “Then, I’ll be in touch with you in the next few days. In the meantime, try to stay out of trouble, but don’t feel like you have to hide away. You have a presence in the media and it might be help your case if the public sees you in a more normal light. As in a normal relationship unrelated to BDSM.”
She looks at me and I nod.
“Great,” She smiles. “Have a wonderful evening.”
She shakes Christian’s hand once more, then mine, and we leave the examination room feeling a little uneasy. As we head down to Carrick’s office to say good bye, I have to shake off the uncomfortable feeling of violation I’m left with knowing that there are intimate details of my sex life with Christian written down in court documents. I know they’re trying to prove that he’s a normal man, in a normal relationship, with normal sexual desires to try and mitigate the concerns his past with BDSM might raise with his connection to the club, but it’s strange knowing that there will be a dossier that describes the kind of sex I have with my boyfriend on file for years…
“Are you hungry?” Christian asks as we step into the elevator that leads to the underground parking garage.
“A little,” I say, only now realizing that it’s been almost 8 hours since I’ve eaten anything.
“Good,” Christian nods. “After all of this today, I’d really like to take you on a date and just forget about things for a while. I think we could use some time alone.”
I smile up at him. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
The Veyron is waiting for us in the garage and as I step inside, I realize that it’s starting to feel strange not having security around. Taylor hasn’t left my side in weeks, but once he dropped me off at Carrick’s office this afternoon, Christian told him he wouldn’t be needed for the rest of the day. I half expect him to call Taylor once we’re out of the garage to have him meet us wherever it is he’s taking me, but he doesn’t. It really is just the two of us tonight.
We end up in the Pike Market district, and to my surprise Christian simply pulls to the side of the road and parks against the curb on a well-lit, busy part of Pike St. It’s weird because I have trouble picturing Christian choosing a place to eat that doesn’t have a valet, let alone one that doesn’t even have its own private parking, so I look up and down the street with interest, trying to decipher where he’s taking me. Taxi Dogs is only a few buildings down, and for a moment, I wonder if that’s his plan. But, as he takes my hand and leads me down the street, he walks past it.
“Where are we going?” I ask, as we round the corner onto Virginia, but he just smiles and then pulls me down an alley on the right. “Oh, by date, you meant you wanted to murder me,” I tease him and he laughs.
“Not tonight, Miss Steele. This is one of my best suits,” He replies. I giggle at his good humor as he leads me to a cinderblock building about halfway down the alley that is painted a uniform dark gray, except for the front door, which is a bright, baby pink. From the outside, it’s definitely not the kind of place I’d imagine Christian regularly frequents, but I realize I’m probably wrong about that when I see the inside.
The restaurant is small, and very intimate. There are a few tables scattered around in a haphazard fashion, but everything about the restaurant itself is beautiful. There are clean white linens on all of the tables, a huge, elaborate vase sitting on a pillar in the middle of the dining room floor that is overflowing with flowers, and the entire space is flooded with soft, warm light from the long tapers resting on every table. It’s a little crowded, which I don’t think is normally Christian’s style, especially since he said he wanted to be alone, but I suppose there’s a unique kind of anonymity when you’re lost in a large crowd.
“Do you have a reservation?” The hostess asks, without looking up from her clipboard, as we step up to her podium.
“No, I don’t. I hope that won’t be a problem,” Christian says, and the hostess looks up with a smug kind of arrogance on her face. But that immediately melts away when she sees him.
“Oh my god, you’re Christian Grey,” She gasps, and he smiles down at her. That carefree, beautiful smile that quite possibly makes him the most handsome man in the world, and she instantly melts.
Poor girl, she didn’t stand a chance.
“Let me get a table for you, Mr. Grey,” She says, and she picks up two menus, turns to say something into the microphone hanging from the wire wrapped around her ear, and then faces us again with a broad, toothy smile. “Right this way, please.”
We follow her into the restaurant towards an empty table, ignoring the pointed stares as we pass each of the other seated guests. Christian pulls out my chair for me and I smile as I settle down and take the menu the hostess offers me. It’s then, as I glance down at the loopy script that almost makes the menu a little difficult to read, that I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye, and look up to see a woman dangling above the dining area, wrapped in the aerial silk used in acrobatic shows. She’s very graceful as she lifts her body and wraps the silk around her so that she can hang upside down, but it’s hard for me to pay attention to her movement because the only thing I can seem to focus on is the fact that she’s dressed only in a pair of satin panties. As she curls her legs around the silk and falls further backwards, her exposed breasts are pushed out, on display for the entire restaurant.
I look back down at Christian, my mouth actually open with unexpected shock, but he seems to be paying little attention to the mostly naked woman dancing only a few feet away from our table.
“Do you like octopus?” He asks casually as he flips the menu in his hands.
“Uh…” I stutter, but, again, my attention is diverted when I see another woman on the other side of the restaurant contorting her naked body around a wide hoop dangling from the ceiling. When I don’t answer him, he looks up and then furrows his brow.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“There are boobs,” I tell him, nodding towards the girl spinning around the aerial silk next to us, and he glances up and then lets out a low, breathy laugh.
“Yes, there are,” He agrees. “The Pink Door is a burlesque themed restaurant, but they have some of the best pasta in the city. I know how much you like Italian food.”
“Right,” I reply as some of the shock fades away. I nod and smile at him, just as the waitress approaches our table, beaming down at Christian like he’s a basket of newborn puppies or something.
“Welcome to The Pink Door, Mr. Grey,” She greets him. “Are you ready to order?”
“I think so,” Christian says, turning his attention from me back to the menu. “I think we’ll start off with a bottle of the 2006 Batar Chardonnay, and I’ll have the scallops for my entrée.”
He looks up expectantly at me and I realize I haven’t even really looked much at the menu. I glance down and pick the first thing I see. “Uh… Linguini Alle Vongole, please,” I tell her.
“Excellent choice,” She says, reaching down for our menus. “I’ll get your wine right out.”
“And some oysters, to start off with,” Christian tells her. She nods and then turns to leave, but Christian stops her. “Excuse me.”
“I’m sorry, can I get you something else?” She asks.
“No, can we have the dancer moved, please?” He asks, looking up at the woman on the aerial silk.
“Oh…” The waitress says awkwardly, “Uh, of course. Let me just get someone to take down the silks.”
“Thank you,” He says. She nods and leaves.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, feeling slightly embarrassed. “It doesn’t bother me, I was just a little surprised that’s all.”
“It distracts you though,” He says, reaching out and taking my hand with his. “And I want all of your attention.”
I smile as he rubs his thumb affectionately over the backs of my fingers, and then take a sip of water from my glass.
“Are you feeling okay after the examination?” I ask him. “It was more intense than I thought it was going to be.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” He says, sitting up a little straighter and I frown.
“So you’re worried?” I infer, but he shakes his head.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it. Look, I’m not trying to shut you out or keep everything in, I just want one night that’s about you and me.” He says, and it takes me a little off guard. “I miss you, Ana. I feel like I’ve barely spent any time with you these last two weeks.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask him, my voice filled with concern at the slightly somber tone in his voice. “We haven’t been apart even one night since you got back from New York before your birthday. We’ve made love every night this week. In fact… I’m still a little sore.”
I give him a small smirk which makes him laugh a little, and then he picks up my hand and gently presses his lips to each of the knuckles on my fingers.
“I know,” He agrees. “And I do like you sore… but we’ve both been working late, and I’ve spend a lot of nights in my office with my father. We haven’t had dinner together in almost four days. I miss just sitting down and talking to you.”
“Okay,” I nod. “Then let’s talk.”
The waitress appears again, sets a plate full of oysters between us, and pours us each a glass of wine before setting the bottle on the table and leaving again. Christian reaches out for an oyster and tips it into his mouth, and as I watch the way his mouth moves when he swallows it, my mind immediately summons images of other ways I’ve seen his mouth move…
“You haven’t talked to me much about your life before you came to Seattle this summer,” Christian says. “And I feel like I’ve missed a lot. Tell me about school. I mean, something must have been keeping you busy since you seemed to never be home…”
I look up at him nervously for a second but there isn’t bitterness or resentment in his voice. Instead, his eyes are alight with humor and his lips are curled upwards into a teasing smirk, and as shocking as it is to see him acting so casual at the mention of our time apart, it’s relieving too.
“Well, I hate to tell you this, but I’m writer so my life isn’t very exciting. Most of my free time is spent staring at a blank page on my laptop,” I say sardonically.
“Do you mean to tell me that you were actually home every time I called you?” He asks, faking shock, and when I laugh, he shakes his head. “I can’t believe Elliot would lie to me. Kate I can understand, but Elliot?”
“He’s a shady guy.” I say with a laugh and Christian smiles.
“It’s a good thing he’ll be here for me to keep an eye on then,” He says and I frown a little at the reminder. The waitress returns and sets our plates in front of us, asking if we need anything else, but Christian tells her we’re fine.
“What’s the matter, Ana?” He asks.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head and smiling again. “I just hadn’t really thought about Elliot not coming back with us next semester. I mean, I knew he wasn’t, but I hadn’t really thought about him not being there, you know? I’m gonna miss him. A lot of my favorite memories from Harvard involve Elliot.”
“Like what?” Christian asks.
“Well…” I pause, trying to decide which one to share and when I think of the perfect example, I can’t hold back my smile.
“Okay, so he built this shed in the back, by the alley where we park, and it has one of those rolling garage doors that you have to pull open and closed by hand.”
“Yeah, I think I saw that,” Christian says, as he starts to eat. “Just off the kitchen?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Well, there’s this stray cat that Kate kind of takes care of and feeds every now and then, so Elliot keeps the shed door open a few inches so that cat get in and out when it rains or is really cold. Well, last winter, we didn’t see the cat for a while so Kate went to look through the window to see if she could see it in the shed and sure enough, she was in there next to the lawn mower and she had a litter of newborn kittens. It was November and freezing out so Kate wanted to bring the kittens into house, but we couldn’t get the garage door open because it was frozen shut.”
“Did Elliot break it down?” Christian asks, rolling his eyes.
“No,” I laugh, “That would have been better. Kate decided she was going to try and get under the door, which, keep in mind, is only open enough for a cat to get through. So, she took off her coat and tried to shimmy under the door, but her bra strap got caught on the lip of the door. I told her to come back out but she was bound and determined so she asked me to help her undo her bra so she could keep going, and it worked until she scooted forward enough to where the door hit her ass.”
“Please tell me you didn’t try to crawl under a garage door, Anastasia,” Christian says disapprovingly as he tries to infer the direction of the story, but I laugh again and shake my head.
“Oh no, I’m not that stupid,” I tell him. “Well, she decided at that point that she wasn’t going to get through, so she tried to crawl back out so we could wait for Elliot to get home, but her boobs wouldn’t squish down when she came back the other way, so she couldn’t get back out. She was stuck, and since it seemed like it was mostly just her jeans that were getting caught on the door, I had to take them off of her so she could get inside.”
“So you stripped her down to her underwear, outside, in the middle of November?” Christian asks, but again, I shake my head.
“Nope, her underwear was getting caught on the door so I took those too,” I laugh. “So, Kate is naked from the waist down, cursing and panicking as she tries to pull herself into the shed while I’m laughing so hard I’m trying not to pee my pants. Then Elliot pulls into the alley and sees his girlfriend’s vagina on display for the entire world while she’s screaming bloody murder.”
Christian chuckles. “I’m surprised no one called the cops.”
“They did!” I laugh. “Apparently someone drove by and thought we were breaking in, so about 30 seconds after Elliot got there, three police cruisers pull into the alley behind him and they start screaming at us to get away from the shed. Elliot and I were trying to explain that we live there and that Kate is just an idiot, but they didn’t really believe us, so Elliot started panicking and pleading with the officer. He was told to go sit on the curb but he looked back and he was like, ‘But officer, my girlfriend’s vagina is going to freeze off’.”
I start laughing uncontrollably again and it must be contagious because Christian joins in too. The easy humor on his face makes him look so young and beautiful, and I realize, in that moment, how long it’s been since I’ve seen him this way. Maybe since… when? Montesano? His birthday? I can’t remember and that’s not a good thing. I remember what he said to me when we sat down, about how we haven’t really had time to just be together and enjoy each other’s company without the weight of the world bearing down on us. I think it’s inevitable that everywhere Christian and I go, drama will be sure to follow, so it’s important that we make time for this. I need to make the effort to slow down, take a break, and enjoy him and all of the good parts of our relationship.
I smile and pick up my fork to enjoy my dinner while we have one of the most real, intimate conversations we’ve had in I don’t even know how long. When we’re finished and he’s paid the tab, he reaches out for my hand to lead me back out into the alley. As we walk along the side of the street towards the Veyron, I lean my head against his shoulder, feeling perfectly content and wishing this evening would never end. It’s been perfect.
“Can I drive?” I ask him when we finally get to the car and he looks down and raises an eyebrow at me.
“No,” He says firmly, and I pull away from his shoulder to give him an exasperated look.
“Why not? You let everyone else drive your car.” I pout.
“True,” He agrees. “But the difference between you and say, Elliot, is that you’re a terrible driver.”
“I am not!” I say, outraged, but he just looks at me pointedly. “I am not a terrible driver. I have never been in an accident.”
“You also never owned a car until two months ago…” He says, but when I mash my lips together in indignation, he sighs and then very reluctantly hands over his keys. I take them out of his hand and then march very purposefully over to the driver’s side.
“Do not ding my car, Anastasia,” He warns me as I open the car door. “Or I will be fucking pissed.”
“Just get in the car, Christian,” I say, rolling my eyes, and then I slip into the roomy, cool leather seat. I can feel how tense Christian is sitting next to me, but I ignore him as I slide the key into the ignition. Unfortunately though, when I turn it… nothing happens. I turn a slightly embarrassed look on Christian, but he takes a deep, calming breath and then presses the button on the console between us, and the engine roars to life.
“Thank you,” I say, and then I shift the car into drive and carefully pull away from the curb.
It’s actually a little scary once I get out onto the street since a ferry has just docked and released a ton of cars into the mix of normal evening traffic. We seem to be moving only an inch at a time as we sit in the bumper to bumper gridlock, and it makes me extremely nervous. Everything around me is fraught with peril as each of the cars idling merely inches away from me at all times present me with countless opportunities to scratch Christian’s precious car.
When we stop again, I glance over at him, expecting to find him riddled with stress, but actually, he looks surprisingly relaxed. He’s leaning against his door, staring at me very intently.
“What?” I ask him.
“Isn’t that skirt a little short?” He asks, and I look down to see that the black pencil skirt I picked out to wear to work this morning is bunched up pretty far up my thighs. Enough so that the lace tops of my stockings are showing.
“It’s just because your seat is lower than my legs,” I tell him, but as I reach down to pull my skirt back into place, his hand clasps around my leg to stop me. I inhale sharply as I feel his fingers graze against my inner thigh, gently tracing the line where my stockings meet exposed skin. I feel the gentle tingle his touch leaves in my skin creeping up my leg towards the apex of my thighs and have to suppress another gasp.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, and a mischievous smile plays across his lips as he looks up at me.
“We’re not moving,” He says. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Anastasia.”
His hand begins to move up my thigh, skimming tantalizingly over my skin. I bite down on my lip and ease the car forward another few feet as I feel his fingers slip beneath my panties.
“Mmm,” Christian moans. “Does driving a sports car turn you on, baby?”
“No,” I breathe. “You turn me on.”
He lets out a sexy, breathy laugh and then begins to move his fingers, teasing me, playing with me, even briefly dipping a finger inside of me as I continue to inch the car up Virginia Street the few blocks we have left until we’re at Escala.
“Oh baby,” He whispers. “You’re so wet… It’s all over your legs.”
“Well then stop…” I whine, trying to squirm away from his fingers. I move my legs, attempting to clamp my thighs around his hand so he can’t move it anymore, but he just pushes into me harder, deeper, and I let out a strangled kind of cry.
“Do not close your legs on me, Anastasia,” He says darkly. “This is mine, remember? And I like you wet like this. I want to touch you. And, when we get home, I’m going to taste you, and then I’m going to fuck you on the first available surface in our apartment.” He moans slightly at the thought and starts to move his fingers again. “Perhaps I’ll start in the elevator, and then really take you on the table in the foyer. I could bend you over it and then rip open this little skirt of yours… Then your blouse, and then your panties. I want you spread out and on display for me so that I can see how wet you are for me before put my cock inside of you and make you come so hard that you scream for me.”
A shiver runs through me as his words feel like they have a direct line to my libido. I can feel heat pooling deep inside of me as his fingers move in and out of me. We cross over 3rd avenue, and I feel the quivering between my thighs begin. Oh fuck…
“One more block, Anastasia,” Christian says, his warm, sultry voice stoking the pleasure building inside of me. “Do you think you can hold off?”
“Or maybe I should let you come,” He says. “That’s a visual I’d love to hang onto every time I got into this car. You, falling apart in the driver’s seat because of my fingers inside of you. Fuck, Anastasia, just saying those words makes me hard.”
“Stop,” I whimper, because I know that I’m not going to be able to hold off much longer. But his fingers don’t still.
“Are you sure?”
The car in front of me takes a left on 4th, leaving the intersection open for me to jet across towards the entrance of the parking garage under Escala, but I quickly realize that I’m not going to be able to get into the garage.
“Stop, Christian!” I say, trying to force my legs closed again. He gives me a quizzical look before his attention is caught by a sudden flash and he turns to look at the source of light coming from a few feet ahead of the car.
“Fuck,” He hisses, and his hand withdraws from inside of me, smoothly pulling my panties back into place and pulling my skirt down in what feels like one fluid motion. The street is filled with photographers crowding around the entrance to the garage and blocking my way. It’s hard to see through the blinding flashes that fill the darkness as the paparazzi swarm the Veyron, and I have to slam on the brakes so that I don’t hit anyone.
“What do I do?” I ask, and Christian quickly looks behind us at the cars angrily honking to get past, and then at the entrance of the parking garage which we have no hope of making it to.
“Circle the block,” He says. “Stop at the front of the building and I’ll have Taylor come down for the car. Ryan can get us in through the main entrance.”
I nod and then ease the car forward again while Christian presses the button on the dash for the Bluetooth so that he can call Taylor. It’s easier to get around the block than it was to get up Virginia St, but once we pull up along the curb in front of Escala, the mob of paparazzi surrounds us again.
I’m startled when my door opens, but then am relieved when I look up and see Taylor standing over me, holding his hand out for mine. I slip the keys into his hand as he helps me out of the car and blocks me from the reporters creeping in on us until Christian gets around the car to grab ahold of me. There is an uncomfortable sense of claustrophobia as the cameras close in around us and Ryan has to actually push his way forward to create a path towards the front door. The paparazzi are shouting questions at us, but there are so many and they’re all so loud and garbled with the clicking sounds of the cameras that I can’t distinguish what they’re asking. It’s terrifying having all of these strange men bearing down on us, in a near frenzy, as they try to get their pictures. I try to step up onto the curb after Christian, but something hard knocks into the back of my head and I screech with pain.
“What the fuck?” Christian roars, as his hand closes over my hair where I’ve been hit. He tries to pass me off to Ryan so he can turn around and confront whoever it was that just hit me, but before he can, we get to the front door and Ryan, along with a few of the Escala staff, hurriedly pull us inside and close the doors behind us.
“Are you okay?” Christian asks urgently, and I reach up to the sore spot on the back of my head, and nod.
“Yeah… What is all that about?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Christian says, and he turns expectant eyes on Ryan.
“You haven’t heard?” Ryan asks. Christian shakes his head, but is distracted from saying anything else by his phone vibrating in his suit jacket. It’s his father, so he steps aside to take the call while Ryan leads me quickly over to the elevator. As we wait for it to get back to the ground floor, I quickly pull out my phone to try and figure out what’s going on.
Google Alert: Christian Grey
The Seattle Times, July 20th 2010: Grey vs. Lincoln, Round Two? Court records leaked today by an anonymous source reveal that the pending August 20th trial date for Seattle business magnate Christian Grey and GEH executive Elena Lincoln, is not the first time the two have squared off in the courtroom. Though the details of the previous trial have been sealed, enough information was made available to show that Mr. Grey and Mrs. Lincoln were involved in a criminal case on May 14th 2008 in Middlesex County, Boston, Massachusetts…
There are more, dozens more, from what looks like every major news outlet in the country. I stare down at the screen on my phone in horror, feeling the blood drain from my face. I’m too shocked to register anything else but the words glaring up at me from the screen of my iPhone until I hear the ping that announces the elevator’s arrival. When I look up, I see Christian is standing next to me, staring down at me with an almost defeated looking expression.
“How did this happen?” I ask him and he shakes his head.
“I don’t know. Thankfully, the only things the media have been able to dig up are our names on the case and the trial date. My father told me he worked with the prosecutor’s office in Massachusetts to make sure those records were sealed so that’s all they should get, but just knowing we have a legal history doesn’t look good for me.”
I feel a wave of dread cross over me as the doors to the elevator slide open, and Christian gently pushes me inside.
“Wait here,” He says to Ryan as he steps into the elevator behind me. He glances over his shoulder at the lights still flashing through the windows and then turns to press the button for the penthouse. I bite down on my lip as I’m once again filled with nervous energy, but when the doors close and we’re alone again, I’m suddenly engulfed by Christian. He pushes me back into the wall of the elevator, and it’s like he’s everywhere at once. His mouth is on mine and his hands are running hungrily over my body, tangling in my hair… it’s disorienting.
“Wait,” I protest, but he doesn’t stop. His hand reaches up under my leg and pulls it up over his hip so that he can press himself into me and I can feel his erection, firm and ready against my thigh.
“Christian, what are you…” I try again, but he interrupts me.
“Just… one night, Ana,” He whispers. “I just want one night where I can pretend like the whole fucking world isn’t crumbling around us and I can just be with you. I can’t do anything about this until tomorrow morning, so just take this one night to be with me. Let me lose myself in you.”
I have a flashback to dinner, seeing him finally looking carefree and happy, and the revelation I had about making an effort to put aside whatever external things were going on in our lives so that we could focus on us, and our love for each other. This is where we were headed only a few minutes ago, maybe it is better that we continue with the evening that we’d intended to have rather than sit around all night riddled with stress and anxiety. Maybe right now, since there’s nothing else we can do, it’s better just to forget.
He kisses me again, tentatively this time as though he’s waiting for permission, and I succumb. My hands reach up into his hair and he lets out a low growl as his fingers begin work on my blouse. My breathing is heavy when his lips pull away from mine and begin to move down my neck into my now exposed cleavage. He gently nips the side of my breast, and I moan, bowing my back so that I press my breasts into him.
The doors open and he pulls me quickly out of the elevator and into the entrance hall. His purpose is very clear: the table he’d talked about in the car on our way home.
“Christian,” I say, my voice breathy as his lips make contact with my neck again. “Ryan and Taylor will be up here soon…”
He looks over his shoulder at the elevator doors closing behind us and then shakes his head with annoyance before scooping me up into his arms and carrying me off to our bedroom. He releases me once we’re inside so that he can close the door and I immediately begin tugging at my clothes.
“Stop,” He warns me. “I want to do that.”
I bite down on my lip, and the grey in his eyes glints as he leans down to claim my lips with his again. He pushes me backwards towards the bed as he peels my blouse over my shoulders and discards it without care onto the floor. My bra is next, and once it’s gone, he pushes me back onto the bed so that he can begin to undo his belt and fly, but his fingers stop as his eyes rake hungrily over me.
“God damn, your body is beautiful, Ana,” He says, and I sit up and move his hands out of the way so that I can work on his pants.
“I want to see yours,” I tell him. He pulls his jacket off, removes his tie and cufflinks, and begins to unfasten the buttons on his shirt as I reach into his pants to release his erection. His breath hisses between his teeth as I envelop him with my mouth. Once his shirt is gone, he twists his fingers into my hair, encouraging me, and his mouth drops open.
“That’s it, baby,” He says, flexing his hips and pushing himself deeper into my mouth. He gazes down at me intently, watching my every move. I glance up at him, reveling in every tiny movement of his lips and his eyebrows that tell me how much he’s enjoying the feeling of my lips wrapped around him. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, losing himself to the hedonistic pleasure, and it drives me on. Knowing what I’m doing to him, knowing how much he loves this, makes me feel wanted, sexy, and so, so powerful.
“Fuuuuck,” He breathes, as his fingers clench against the roots of my hair. I tighten my lips around him, swirling my tongue over the head of his erection every time I pull him to the front of my mouth. Before long, he tries to step back, but I stop him. My hand wraps around the base of his erection and begins working in synchronized opposition with my mouth.
“Ana, wait…” He pants. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”
I suck harder to express my satisfaction with the idea, but as I pull back on him again, he growls and then reaches down to grab onto me and yank me to my feet.
“I don’t want to come in your mouth, Anastasia,” He chides me, his eyes dark with salacious need. “I had planned for you to come in mine, but I think we’re past that now.”
Abruptly, he turns me so that my back is pressed to his chest, and while his lips and tongue move along the curve of my neck, he blindly yanks open the zipper on the back of my skirt and then tugs on it so that it falls to the ground.
“On the bed,” He commands me. “On your hands and knees.”
I do as he asks, and then let out a small yelp of shock when he pushes down on my upper back so that I fall flat with my breasts pressing into the mattress. He grabs onto my hips, pulling them into the air, and then his hand comes down hard on my ass.
“Oh fuck…” I groan into the sheets and I hear his low moan of approval.
“You look so sexy like this, Anastasia. I can’t wait to be inside of you.”
His fingers wrap around the band of my panties and he gently pulls them down over my behind and about halfway down my legs, but, surprisingly, he doesn’t take them all the way off. He stands between my calves, hanging halfway off the bed, and nudges my legs as far apart as they will go while still being confined by my panties around my thighs.
“You’re so wet,” He says approvingly. I hear the jingle of his belt hitting the floor as he lets his pants fall to the ground and then steps out of them. He removes his shoes and socks and then comes to stand me behind me. I gasp with anticipation as I feel his erection brush over my entrance.
“Ask me for it,” He says, and I whimper. “I want to hear you ask me to fuck you, Anastasia.”
“Please,” I reply, my voice entirely too high and shaky. “Take me, Christian.”
“What?” He asks, and his hand smacks me hard on the ass again. Clearly, my choice of words were not what he was looking for.
“Fuck me, Christian,” I plead. “Fuck me.”
“Good girl,” He says, and he thrusts forward, impaling me in one swift motion. I let out a long, throaty moan as I feel him pull back and then thrust forward again, filling me, stretching me, electrifying me with pleasure that only he knows how to give me. I bask in the sound of his grunts as he picks up the rhythm. It’s exquisite, surrendering myself to him, losing myself and all coherent thought in the steady metronomic pace of him diving in and out of me. He spanks me again, sending a jolt of pleasure down my quivering legs and I cry out.
“Say my name, Ana,” He commands me.
“Christian! Oh fuck, Christian! Christian! Christian!” His name continues to bubble through my lips in time with each of his thrusts, almost as if I can’t hold it back.
“You’re mine, Anastasia,” He growls.
“Yes, yours!” I reply and then I feel his hand move away from my ass and hear him begin to suck on his finger. When I feel his hand again, his now wet finger begins circling the entrance of my ass, slowly at first and then adding more and more pressure. When his thumb sinks inside of me, I let out a harsh, gratified breath, and push back into him.
“I want to claim your ass tonight, Anastasia,” He says, “You’re going to come on my cock and then I’m going to fuck your ass.”
His words ignite the heat between my legs and I surrender to the feral need building inside of me. He pulls his thumb out of me, wets his index finger with my arousal, and then eases it inside of me. Another one joins the first soon after, preparing me for him, and I find myself alight with excitement at the anticipation.
I want this, I want him. Every part of him. Everywhere.
The thought of him invading me there, where he never has before, while his fingers and his erection move in synchronization with one another, makes everything inside of me tighten, and the quivering begins to build. He pushes himself as far into me as he can go, swirling around and then rocking me back and forth. I squeeze around him, pushing myself further towards the edge, dragging him along with me, and he lets out a low, primal growl and thrusts into me hard again. Another finger slides into me, stretching me further than he has before and I feel him slam against my cervix as he possesses me entirely. The feeling of being so full with him causes me to unravel, and I fall into the warm depths of my orgasm, losing myself in the pulsing pleasure. His pace slows, but doesn’t cease as he takes me with long, purposeful strokes, reveling in my orgasm while also prolonging it.
“That’s it baby. Oh, fuck,” He whispers. He twists his fingers around inside of me as I come down from my orgasm, not removing them until I’m completely spent and melting into the bed.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” He says as he pulls out of me, and I take a deep breath to ready myself for more.
He steps back and retrieves some of the items we purchased together online from their place under the bed. “I’ll be getting rid of most of this tomorrow,” He tells me. “So, we better make good use of it tonight.”
I bite down on my lip as my mind runs through the inventory of what’s down there and I worry what it that is he has planned. A small rush of trepidation runs through me as I feel him climb back onto the bed, enough that I jump a little when I feel him touch me.
“Relax, baby,” He says, his voice gentle and soothing. “This is going to be good.”
I take a deep breath and nod, trying fall back into my post orgasmic bliss, but it’s not the easiest thing in the world when I’m also listening to the sound of mystery objects being placed on the bedside table.
“Here,” He says. “Let me help you.”
He rolls me onto my back and kisses me. His lips are soft, gentle, and move against mine in a slow, entrancing way that pushes a lot of the anxiety away. He moans softly as he pulls his lips away and moves them over my jaw and down past my collar bones. His hands gently massage my breasts, but his mouth continues down. I feel his tongue drag over the line down the center of my stomach to my belly button, where he leaves a soft kiss before shifting his body so he can settle in between my legs while he removes my panties.
“Is this for me?” He asks as he drags a finger over my opening, collecting my arousal. I hum an affirmation and he reaches his finger up, placing it against my lips. I pucker them against his finger tip, kissing it softly, and then he pulls it back and takes it into his mouth.
“Delectable,” He murmurs and then he lowers his lips to my clitoris.
“Ohhh…” I moan as his mouth begins its slow, sensual assault. His tongue swirls around my clitoris, carefully tracing purposefully circles again and again until I feel the heat beginning to build. My back bows off the bed again, instinctively pushing me further into his mouth, but, instead of pushing into me deeper, he pulls away.
“Christian,” I protest. He leans down to kiss my clitoris once more.
“I know, baby,” He says, and then a shiver courses through me as I feel him push his lips together and blow over my center. I whimper and squirm under the sensation, trying to find his mouth once more, but it isn’t his mouth I feel when he makes contact with me again, it’s his fingers. They follow the same pattern he made with his tongue, circling around and around, while his other hand pushes my legs further apart. I relax back into my pillow, closing my eyes so that the only sensation I’m aware of is the movement of his fingers, but that quickly changes when I feel his tongue again. Moving down… there.
“Christian!” I gasp, trying to sit up and pull away from him, but his hands clamp down over my hips, holding me in place.
“Relax, Ana,” He says gently. “Try it. You might like it.”
I bite down on my lip as I stare into the deep, gray depths of his eyes burning with dark, carnal need, and resign. This is new to me, foreign, so I have no choice but to trust him and let him take the lead. I lie back down onto the pillow and open my legs for him again. His fingers start to move, and then, once again, he lowers his mouth to me and his tongue traces slow, sensual circles around my most forbidden erogenous zone.
A low moan escapes me as I realize that he was right. I do like it. It feels… Oh it feels. It’s as good as his fingers were earlier, better even, and as I succumb to the feeling, I feel the quiver return.
“Oh god, Christian!” I gasp, and he lets out a low, very pleased sound as he continues to work his tongue in time with his fingers. I start to build again, higher and higher to the very edge of release, and when his fingers close around my clitoris and pull, I detonate.
“That’s it, baby,” He encourages me, continuing to massage me as I sail through my orgasm, and when I come down, he runs his tongue over me one last time before sitting up and reaching over the bedside table again.
“Roll onto your side,” He instructs me. I take a breath to center myself and do as he asks, rolling so that I’m facing away from him. There is a series of strange noises behind me and then he’s next to me again. I take comfort in the warmth I feel from his chest pressing against my back as he spoons me, and feel my body relax. I can do this.
“Lift your leg,” He tells me, and when I do, he moves his leg in between mine, separating them so that my leg rests over his. His hand moves down to my behind again, and I feel something wet. He’s lubricating me with his fingers.
“You ready?” He asks and I nod. I listen as he squeezes more lubricant into his hand and then coats his erection with it before moving down to the entrance of my ass.
“We’re going to go real slow, baby,” He says. “If it’s too much, tell me, and I’ll stop.”
“Okay,” I agree. He leans over and kisses me gently on the shoulder and I begin to feel pressure from behind. I whimper as the head of his erection slides into me.
“Is that okay?” He asks, pausing, and I take a moment to adjust before I nod and he begins to inch forward again. I find that if I curl my legs up towards my chest a little, it’s easier to accommodate him and he doesn’t have to wait as long for me to get used to him each time he stops.
“Oh fuck, Ana,” He whispers, his lips pressed to my ear as he holds me close against him. “You’re so tight.”
At last, he pushes fully inside of me, exhaling a shaky, pleasure filled gasp, and then stopping again.
“So, so tight,” He says again. “Tell me when I can move.” I move around him myself as I attempt to adjust to his size, grinding back into him until the sensation of him inside of me isn’t just comfortable, it actually feels… good.
“Okay,” I tell him and slowly, he eases back. I can feel every inch of him inside of me, stretching me in a taboo kind of way that makes me feel libidinous and wanton. I moan loudly when he pushes forward again and he groans.
“Do you like that, baby?” He asks.
“Yes,” I whisper back.
“It’s so good,” He hisses through his clenched teeth. My eyes scrunch together as I lose myself in the sensation, in his rhythm, in the feeling and connection of being so close to him, even this way. I can hear his ragged breathing, ladened with his ecstasy as he moves in and out of me. Knowing the pleasure he’s receiving from my body heightens my arousal until I’m panting with need and pushing back against him to garner every ounce of indulgent bliss from him that I can.
He shifts behind me as, I think, he reaches for something on the nightstand again, and when he turns back to me, I hear a clicking sound and then the low hum of something vibrating. He reaches down in between my legs and I feel something textured and rubbery on the tip of his finger gently buzz against my clitoris. A moan escapes from deep inside of me and I feel my body begin to tremble as the vibrations rock through each one of my pleasure receptors, and lush, carnal heat begins building inside of me, burning hotter and brighter with each passing second. The quickening begins and Christian lets out a rough, harsh groan.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” He pants, and he picks up his rhythm. My fingers grip into the sheets as I hold back my cries of ecstasy. The outside world begins to melt away, leaving only me, and him, and the relentless, mind boggling feeling of him pushing, pushing, pushing… it’s exquisite. I feel a rush of elation experiencing this with him, surrendering this last part of my body to him as he claims me for his own. There is joy in the sentiment, as well as wild, libidinous satisfaction. He is the only one who can take me to this dark, sensual place while also showing me a world filled with warm, blinding light made of pure love and happiness. He’s the only person I would want with me, guiding me, as I venture forward into this new frontier.
“I love you, Christian,” I cry out, the words falling unbidden from my lips, and I let go, finding sweet, glorious release as I come around him. He moans a garbled version of my name and then stills, pouring himself inside of me as he holds me flush against him and buries his face into the curve of my neck.
We lie there, panting together as we come down from the extraordinary high. His arms twist around me, holding me tightly, possessively, as his lips brush against the skin on my shoulder.
“You are a siren, Anastasia,” He whispers. “I’m completely bewitched by you. I’m never going to get enough of you. I never want to let you go.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, and then turn my head so that my lips can find his. I’m exhausted, sated, and completely wrung out. My head feels heavy and my mind begins to swim with the promise of sleep. When he pulls away from me, looking down at me with complete and utter awe and devotion, he smiles.
“You’re wrecked, aren’t you?” He asks.
“A little,” I reply.
“Then sleep, baby.”
I moan gratefully and turn around so that he’s spooning me again as I begin to drift. I’m only vaguely aware of his lips pressing into my hair and his fingers gently caressing the skin on my arm, and as the blackness of sleep begins to overtake my consciousness, I hear him whisper something, but the words are lost in the haze of approaching dreams.