FST01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

by EL James

  “So, how are we going to do this?” I ask. “Run through my points one by one?”

  “Impatient as ever, Miss Steele.”

  “Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today?” He smiles, and his long fingers reach down to collect an olive. He pops it in his mouth, and my eyes linger on his mouth, that mouth, that’s been on me… all parts of me. I flush.

  “I thought the weather was particularly unexceptional today,” he smirks.

  “Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?”

  “I am, Miss Steele.”

  “You know this contract is legally unenforceable.”

  “I am fully aware of that, Miss Steele.”

  “Were you going to tell me that at any point?”

  He frowns at me.

  “You’d think I’d coerce you into something you don’t want to do, and then pretend that I have a legal hold over you?”

  “Well… yes.”

  “You don’t think very highly of me at all, do you?”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Anastasia, it doesn’t matter if it’s legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make with you – what I would like from you and what you can expect from me. If you don’t like it, then don’t sign. If you do sign, and then decide you don’t like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away. Even if it were legally binding, do you think I’d drag you through the courts if you did decide to run?” I take a long draft of my wine. My subconscious taps me hard on the shoulder. You must keep your wits about you. Don’t drink too much.

  “Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust,” he continues. “If you don’t trust me – trust me to know how I’m affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you – if you can’t be honest with me, then we really can’t do this.” Oh my, we’ve cut to the chase quickly. How far he can take me. Holy shit. What does that mean?

  “So it’s quite simple, Anastasia. Do you trust me or not?” His eyes are burning, fervent.“Did you have similar discussions with um… the fifteen?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of a relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of fine-tuning the soft limits, details like that.”

  “Is there a store you go to? Submissives R Us?”

  He laughs.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then how?”

  “Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your issues, as you say.”

  I swallow. Do I trust him? Is that what this all comes down to – trust? Surely that should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned José.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks, distracting me from my thoughts.

  Oh no… food.

  “No.”

  “Have you eaten today?”

  I stare at him. Honesty… Holy crap, he’s not going to like my answer.

  “No.” My voice is small.

  He narrows his eyes.

  “You have to eat, Anastasia. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you prefer?”

  “I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground.” He smiles sardonically.

  “Do you think that would stop me?” he says softly, a sensual warning.

  My eyes widen, and I swallow again.

  “I hope so.”

  “Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public.” He smiles at me enigmati-cally and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.

  “Bring your wine,” he murmurs.

  Placing my hand in his, I slide out and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his hand reaches for my elbow. He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor. A young man in full Heathman livery approaches us.

  “Mr. Grey, this way sir.”

  We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. Just one secluded table. The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Christian sits opposite me. I peek up at him.“Don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.

  I frown. Damn it. I don’t even know that I’m doing it.

  “I’ve ordered already. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Frankly, I’m relieved, I’m not sure I can make any further decisions.

  “No, that’s fine,” I acquiesce.

  “It’s good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where were we?”

  “The nitty-gritty.” I take another large sip of wine. It really is delicious. Christian Grey does wine well. I remember the last sip of wine he gave me, in my bed. I blush at the intrusive thought.

  “Yes, your issues.” He fishes into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.

  My email.

  “Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft.” I blink at him. Holy shit… we are going to go through each of these points one at a time. I just don’t feel so brave face to face. He looks so earnest. I steel myself with another sip of my wine. Christian continues.

  “My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I’m vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing.”

  Wow… control freakery gone mad. I blink at him shocked.

  “I have never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your question?” I nod, impassive.

  “Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Anastasia. I won’t stop you. If you go, however – that’s it. Just so you know.”

  “Okay,” I answer softly. If I go, that’s it. The thought is surprisingly painful.

  The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eat? Holy Moses – he’s ordered oysters on a bed of ice.

  “I hope you like oysters,” Christian’s voice is soft.

  “I’ve never had one.” Ever.

  “Really? Well.” He reaches for one. “All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that.” He gazes at me, and I know what he’s referring to. I blush scarlet. He grins at me, squirts some lemon juice onto his oyster, and then tips it into his mouth.

  “Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea,” he grins at me. “Go on,” he encourages.

  “So, I don’t chew it?”

  “No, Anastasia, you don’t.” His eyes are alight with humor. He looks so young like this. I bite my lip, and his expression changes instantly. He looks sternly at me. I reach across and pick up my first ever oyster. Okay… here goes nothing. I squirt some lemon juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all seawater, salt, the sharp tang of citrus, and fleshiness… ooh. I lick my lips, and he’s watching me intently, his eyes hooded.

  “Well?”

  “I’ll have another,” I say dryly.

  “Good girl,” he says proudly.

  “Did you choose these deliberately? Aren’t they known for their aphrodisiac qualities?”“No, they are the first item on the menu. I don’t need an aphrodisiac near you. I think you know that, and I think you react the same way near me,” he says simply. “So where were we?” He glances at my email as I reach for another oyster.

  He reacts the same way. I affect him… wow.

  “Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it as role-play Anastasia.”

  “But I’m worried you’ll hurt me.”

  “Hurt you how?”

  “Physically.” And emotionally.

  “Do you really think I would do that? Go beyond any
limit you can’t take?”

  “You’ve said you’ve hurt someone before.”

  “Yes, I have. It was a long time ago.”

  “How did you hurt them?”

  “I suspended them from my playroom ceiling. In fact, that’s one of your questions.

  Suspension – that’s what the karabiners are for in the playroom. Rope play. One of the ropes was tied too tightly.”

  I hold my hand up begging him to stop.

  “I don’t need to know any more. So you won’t suspend me then?”

  “Not if you really don’t want to. You can make that a hard limit.”

  “Okay.”

  “So obeying, do you think you can manage that?”

  He stares at me, his gray eyes intense. The seconds tick by.

  “I could try,” I whisper.

  “Good.” He smiles. “Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now,” he pauses.

  He can’t stay away from me? What?

  “How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself – but I get a midweek night that week?”

  “Okay.”

  “And please, let’s try it for three months. If it’s not for you then, you can walk away anytime.”

  “Three months?” I’m feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat myself to another oyster. I could learn to like these.

  “The ownership thing, that’s just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying. It’s to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I’m coming from.

  And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That’s why you have to trust me.

  I will fuck you, any time, any way, I want – anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you’ve not done this before.

  Initially, we’ll take it slowly, and I will help you. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The “or otherwise”

  – again it’s to help you get into the mindset, it means anything goes.” He’s so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is… I can’t take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.

  “Still with me?” he whispers, his voice rich, warm and seductive. He takes a sip of his wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.

  The waiter comes to the door, and Christian subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear our table.

  “Would you like some more wine?”

  “I have to drive.”

  “Some water then?”

  I nod.

  “Still or sparkling?”

  “Sparkling, please.”

  The waiter leaves.

  “You’re very quiet,” Christian whispers.

  “You’re very verbose.”

  He smiles.

  “Discipline. There’s a very fine line between pleasure and pain Anastasia. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don’t believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can’t handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Ana?”

  Ana!

  “Yes, I do.” I respond spontaneously, not thinking… because it’s true – I do trust him.

  “Well then,” he looks relieved. “The rest of this stuff is just details.”

  “Important details.”

  “Okay, let’s talk through those.”

  My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Kate’s mini disc player so I can listen back to this. There is so much information, so much to process. The waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hol-landaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.

  “I hope you like fish,” Christian says mildly.

  I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was wine.

  “The rules. Let’s talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?”

  “No.” I am so not backing down on this. No one is going to dictate to me what I eat.

  How I fuck, yes, but eat… no, no way.

  He purses his lips.

  “I need to know that you’re not hungry.”

  I frown. Why?

  “You’ll have to trust me.”

  He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes.

  “Touché, Miss Steele,” he says quietly. “I concede the food and the sleep.”

  “Why can’t I look at you?”

  “That’s a Dom/sub thing. You’ll get used to it.”

  Will I?

  “Why can’t I touch you?”

  “Because you can’t.”

  His mouth sets in a mulish line.

  “Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?”

  He looks quizzically at me.

  “Why would you think that?” And immediately he understands. “You think she trau-matized me?”

  I nod.

  “No Anastasia. She’s not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t take any of that shit from me.”

  Oh… but I have to. I pout.

  “So nothing to do with her.”

  “No. And I don’t want you touching yourself, either.” What? Ah yes, the no masturbation clause.

  “Out of curiosity… why?”

  “Because I want all your pleasure,” his voice is husky, but determined.

  Oh… I have no answer for that. On one level it’s up there with, ‘I want to bite that lip’, on another, it’s so selfish. I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what concessions I’ve gained. The food, the sleep, I can look him in the eye. He’s going to take it slow, and we haven’t discussed soft limits. But I’m not sure I can face that over food.

  “I’ve given you a great deal to think about haven’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?”

  “Not over dinner.”

  He smiles.

  “Squeamish?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You’ve not eaten very much.”

  “I’ve had enough.”

  “Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you’ve not eaten all day. You said I could trust you.” Jeez. He’s kept an inventory.

  “Christian, please, it’s not every day I sit through conversations like this.”

  “I need you fit and healthy Anastasia.”

  “I know.”

  “And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress.” I swallow. Peel me out of Kate’s dress. I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I’m now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can’t have this. His most potent weapon, used against me again. He’s so good at sex – even I’ve figured this out.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmur quietly. “We haven’t had dessert.”

  “You want dessert?” he snorts.

  “Yes.”

  “You could be dessert,” he murmurs suggestively.

  “I’m not sure I’m sweet enough.”

  “Anastasia, you’re deliciously sweet. I know.”

  “Christian. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn’t fair,” I whisper, staring down at my hands, and then looking directly at him. He raises his eyebrows, surprised, and I see he’s considering my words. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.

  “You’re right. I do. In life you use what you know, Anastasia. Doesn’t change how much I want you. Here. Now.”

  How can he seduce me s
olely with his voice? I’m panting already – my heated blood rushing through my veins, my nerves tingling.

  “I’d like to try something,” he breathes.

  I frown. He’s just given me a shit load of ideas to process and now this.

  “If you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about this. It would be easy.” His voice is soft, seductive. “All those decisions – all the wearying thought processes behind them. The – is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now?

  You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that detail. That’s what I’d do as your Dom. And right now, I know you want me, Anastasia.”

  My frown deepens. How can he tell?

  “I can tell because… ”

  Holy shit he’s answering my unspoken question. Is he psychic as well?

  “… Your body gives you away. You’re pressing your thighs together, you’re flushed, and your breathing has changed.”

  O, this is too much.

  “How do you know about my thighs?” My voice is low, disbelieving. They’re under the table for heaven’s sake.

  “I felt the tablecloth move, and it’s a calculated guess based on years of experience.

  I’m right aren’t I?”

  I flush and stare down at my hands. That’s what I’m hindered by in this game of seduction. He’s the only one who knows and understands the rules. I’m just too naïve and inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Kate, and she doesn’t take any shit from men. My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennett would be outraged, Jane Eyre too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have.

  “I haven’t finished my cod.”

  “You’d prefer cold cod to me?”

  My head jerks up to glare at him, and his gray eyes burn molten silver, with compelling need.

  “I thought you liked me clearing my plate.”

  “Right now, Miss Steele, I couldn’t give a fuck about your food.”

  “Christian. You just don’t fight fair.”

  “I know. I never have.”

  My inner goddess frowns at me. You can do this, she coaxes – play this sex god at his own game. Can I? Okay. What to do? My inexperience is an albatross around my neck.

  Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.