by E. L. James
“Yes…a few things.”
Cook.
Tell jokes.
Make free and easy conversation with a woman I’m attracted to.
Be touched…
“Do you want to sit?” I gesture toward the sofa. A brisk nod tells me that she does. Taking her hand, I lead her there, and she sits down, giving me an impish look.
“What’s so amusing?” I ask, as I take a seat beside her.
“Why did you give me Tess of the d’Urbervilles, specifically?”
Oh. Where is this going? “Well, you said you liked Thomas Hardy.”
“Is that the only reason?”
I don’t want to tell her that she has my first edition, and that it was a better choice than Jude the Obscure. “It seemed appropriate. I could hold you to some impossibly high ideal like Angel Clare or debase you completely like Alec d’Urberville.” My answer is truthful enough and has a certain irony to it. What I’m about to propose I suspect will be very far from her expectations.
“If there are only two choices, I’ll take the debasement,” she whispers.
Damn. Isn’t that what you want, Grey?
“Anastasia, stop biting your lip, please. It’s very distracting. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“That’s why I’m here,” she says, her teeth leaving little indentations on a bottom lip moist with wine.
And there she is: disarming once more, surprising me at every turn. My cock concurs.
We are cutting to the chase on this deal, but before we explore the details, I need her to sign the NDA. I excuse myself and head into my study. The contract and NDA are ready on the printer. Leaving the contract on my desk—I don’t know if we’ll ever get to it—I staple the NDA together and take it back to Ana.
“This is a nondisclosure agreement.” I place it on the coffee table in front of her. She looks confused and surprised. “My lawyer insists on it,” I add. “If you’re going for option two, debasement, you’ll need to sign this.”
“And if I don’t want to sign anything?”
“Then it’s Angel Clare high ideals, well, for most of the book anyway.” And I won’t be able to touch you. I’ll send you home with Stephan, and I will try my very best to forget you. My anxiety mushrooms; this deal could all go to shit.
“What does this agreement mean?”
“It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone.”
She searches my face and I don’t know if she’s confused or displeased.
This could go either way.
“Okay. I’ll sign,” she says.
Well, that was easy. I hand her my Mont Blanc and she places the pen at the signature line.
“Aren’t you even going to read it?” I ask, suddenly annoyed.
“No.”
“Anastasia, you should always read anything you sign.” How could she be so foolish? Have her parents taught her nothing?
“Christian, what you fail to understand is that I wouldn’t talk about us to anyone anyway. Even Kate. So it’s immaterial whether I sign an agreement or not. If it means so much to you, or your lawyer, whom you obviously talk to, then fine. I’ll sign.”
She has an answer for everything. It’s refreshing. “Fair point well made, Miss Steele,” I note dryly.
With a quick, disapproving glance, she signs.
And before I can begin my pitch, she asks, “Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?”
What?
Me?
Make love?
Oh, Grey, let’s disabuse her of this straightaway. “No, Anastasia, it doesn’t. First, I don’t make love. I fuck, hard.”
She gasps. That’s made her think.
“Second, there’s a lot more paperwork to do. And third, you don’t yet know what you’re in for. You could still run from here screaming! Come, I want to show you my playroom.”
She’s nonplussed, the little v forming between her brows. “You want to play on your Xbox?”
I laugh out loud.
Oh, baby.
“No, Anastasia, no Xbox, no PlayStation. Come.” Standing, I offer her my hand, which she takes willingly. I lead her to the hallway and upstairs, where I stop outside the door to my playroom, my heart hammering in my chest.
This is it. Pay or play. Have I ever been this nervous? Realizing my desires depend on the turn of this key, I unlock the door, and in that moment I need to reassure her. “You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on standby to take you whenever you want to go; you can stay the night and go home in the morning. It’s fine, whatever you decide.”
“Just open the damn door, Christian,” she says with a mulish expression and her arms crossed.
This is the crossroads. I don’t want her to run. But I’ve never felt this exposed. Even in Elena’s hands…and I know it’s because she knows nothing about the lifestyle.
I open the door and follow her into my playroom.
My safe place.
The only place where I’m truly myself.
Ana stands in the middle of the room, studying all the paraphernalia that is so much a part of my life: the floggers, the canes, the bed, the bench…She’s silent, drinking it in, and all I hear is the deafening pounding of my heart as the blood rushes past my eardrums.
Now you know.
This is me.
She turns and gives me a piercing stare as I wait for her to say something, but she prolongs my agony and walks farther into the room, forcing me to follow her.
Her fingers trail over a suede flogger, one of my favorites. I tell her what it’s called, but she doesn’t respond. She walks over to the bed, her hands exploring, her fingers running over one of the carved pillars.
“Say something,” I ask. Her silence is unbearable. I need to know if she’s going to run.
“Do you do this to people or do they do it to you?”
Finally!
“People?” I want to snort. “I do this to women who want me to.”
She’s willing to have a dialogue. There’s hope.
She frowns. “If you have willing volunteers, why am I here?”
“Because I want to do this with you, very much.” Visions of her tied up in various positions around the room overwhelm my imagination; on the cross, on the bed, over the bench…
“Oh,” she says, and wanders to the bench. My eyes are drawn to her inquisitive fingers stroking the leather. Her touch is curious, slow, and sensual—is she even aware?
“You’re a sadist?” she says, startling me.
Fuck. She sees me.
“I’m a Dominant,” I say quickly, hoping to move the conversation on.
“What does that mean?” she inquires, shocked, I think.
“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To please me,” I whisper. This is what I need from you. “In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me.”
“How do I do that?” she breathes.
“I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and for my pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn.”
And I can’t wait to train you. In every way.
She stares at the canes behind the bench. “And where does all this fit in?” She waves at her surroundings.
“It’s all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment.”
“So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.”
Spot on, Miss Steele.
“It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you.” I need your permission, baby. “I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy
even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy—it’s a very simple equation.”
“Okay, and what do I get out of this?”
“Me.” I shrug. That’s it, baby. Just me. All of me. And you’ll find pleasure, too…
Her eyes widen fractionally as she stares at me, saying nothing. It’s exasperating. “You’re not giving anything away, Anastasia. Let’s go back downstairs where I can concentrate better. It’s very distracting having you in here.”
I hold out my hand to her and for the first time she looks from my hand to my face, undecided.
Shit.
I’ve frightened her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Anastasia.”
Tentatively she puts her hand in mine. I’m elated. She hasn’t run.
Relieved, I decide to show her the submissive’s bedroom.
“If you do this, let me show you.” I lead her down the corridor. “This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here.”
“My room? You’re expecting me to move in?” she squeaks in disbelief.
Okay. Maybe I should have left this until later.
“Not full-time,” I reassure her. “Just, say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that. Negotiate. If you want to do this.”
“I’ll sleep here?”
“Yes.”
“Not with you.”
“No. I told you, I don’t sleep with anyone, except you when you’re stupefied with drink.”
“Where do you sleep?”
“My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry.”
“Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appetite,” she declares, with her familiar stubborn expression.
“You must eat, Anastasia.”
Her eating habits will be one of the first issues I’ll work on if she agrees to be mine…that, and her fidgeting.
Stop getting ahead of yourself, Grey!
“I’m fully aware that this is a dark path I’m leading you down, Anastasia, which is why I really want you to think about this.”
She follows me downstairs into the living room once more. “You must have some questions. You’ve signed your NDA; you can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer.”
If this is going to work, she’s going to have to communicate. In the kitchen I open the fridge and find a large plate of cheese and some grapes. Gail wasn’t expecting me to have company, and this is not enough…I wonder if I should order some takeout. Or perhaps take her out?
Like a date.
Another date.
I don’t want to raise expectations like that.
I don’t do dates.
Only with her…
The thought is irritating. There’s a fresh baguette in the bread basket. Bread and cheese will have to do. Besides, she says she’s not hungry.
“Sit.” I point to one of the barstools and Ana sits down and gives me a level gaze.
“You mentioned paperwork,” she says.
“Yes.”
“What paperwork?”
“Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and won’t do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Anastasia.”
“And if I don’t want to do this?”
Shit.
“That’s fine,” I lie.
“But we won’t have any sort of relationship?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“This is the only sort of relationship I’m interested in.”
“Why?”
“It’s the way I am.”
“How did you become this way?”
“Why is anyone the way they are? That’s kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do you like cheese? Mrs. Jones—my housekeeper—has left this for a late supper.” I place the plate in front of her.
“What are your rules that I have to follow?”
“I have them written down. We’ll go through them once we’ve eaten.”
“I’m really not hungry,” she whispers.
“You will eat.”
The look she gives me is defiant.
“Would you like another glass of wine?” I ask, as a peace offering.
“Yes, please.”
I pour wine into her glass and sit down beside her. “Help yourself to food, Anastasia.”
She takes a few grapes.
That’s it? That’s all you’re eating?
“Have you been like this for a while?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Is it easy to find women who want to do this?”
Oh, if you only knew. “You’d be amazed.” My tone is wry.
“Then why me? I really don’t understand.” She’s utterly bemused.
Baby, you’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t I want to do this with you?
“Anastasia, I’ve told you. There’s something about you. I can’t leave you alone. I’m like a moth to a flame. I want you very badly, especially now, when you’re biting your lip again.”
“I think you have that cliché the wrong way around,” she says softly, and it’s a disturbing confession.
“Eat!” I order, to change the subject.
“No. I haven’t signed anything yet, so I think I’ll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, if that’s okay with you.”
Oh…her smart mouth.
“As you wish, Miss Steele.” And I hide my smirk.
“How many women?” she asks, and she pops a grape into that mouth.
“Fifteen.” I have to look away.
“For long periods of time?”
“Some of them, yes.”
“Have you ever hurt anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Badly?”
“No.” Dawn was fine, if a little shaken by the experience. And if I’m honest, so was I.
“Will you hurt me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Physically, will you hurt me?”
Only what you can take.
“I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful.”
For example, when you get drunk and put yourself at risk.
“Have you ever been beaten?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Many, many times. Elena was devilishly handy with a cane. It’s the only touch I could tolerate.
Her eyes widen and she puts the uneaten grapes on her plate and takes another sip of wine. Her lack of appetite is irritating and is affecting mine. Perhaps I should just bite the bullet and show her the rules.
“Let’s discuss this in my study. I want to show you something.”
She follows me and sits in the leather chair in front of my desk as I lean against it, arms folded.
This is what she wants to know. It’s a blessing that she’s curious—she hasn’t run yet. From the contract laid out on my desk I take one of the pages and hand it to her. “These are the rules. They may be subject to change. They form part of the contract, which you can also have. Read these rules and let’s discuss.”
Her eyes scan the page. “Hard limits?” she asks.
“Yes. What you won’t do, what I won’t do, we need to specify in our agreement.”
“I’m not sure about accepting money for clothes. It feels wrong.”
“I want to lavish money on you. Let me buy you some clothes. I may need you to accompany me to functions.”
Grey, what are you saying? This would be a first. “And I want you dressed well. I’m sure your salary, when you do get a job, won’t cover the kind of clothes I’d like you to wear.”
“I don’t have to wear them when I’m not with you?”
“No.”
“Okay. I don’t want to exercise four times
a week.”
“Anastasia, I need you supple, strong, and with stamina. Trust me, you need to exercise.”
“But surely not four times a week. How about three?”
“I want you to do four.”
“I thought this was a negotiation?”
Again, she’s disarming, calling me out on my shit. “Okay, Miss Steele, another point well made. How about an hour on three days and one day half an hour?”
“Three days, three hours. I get the impression you’re going to keep me exercised when I’m here.”
Oh, I hope so.
“Yes, I am. Okay, agreed. Are you sure you don’t want to intern at my company? You’re a good negotiator.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Of course she’s right. And it’s my number-one rule: never fuck the staff.
“So, limits. These are mine.” I hand her the list.
This is it, shit-or-bust time. I know my limits by heart, and mentally tick off the list as I watch her read through. Her face grows paler and paler as she nears the end.
Fuck, I hope this isn’t frightening her off.
I want her. I want her submission…badly. She swallows, glancing nervously up at me. How can I persuade her to give this a try? I should reassure her, show her that I’m capable of caring.
“Is there anything you’d like to add?”
Deep down I hope she won’t add anything. I want carte blanche with her. She stares at me, still at a loss for words. It’s irritating. I’m not used to waiting for answers. “Is there anything you won’t do?” I prompt.
“I don’t know.”
Not the response I was expecting.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
She shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable, her teeth toying with her bottom lip. Again. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
Hell, of course she hasn’t.
Patience, Grey. For fuck’s sake. You’ve thrown a great deal of information at her. I continue my gentle approach. It’s novel.
“Well, when you’ve had sex, was there anything that you didn’t like doing?” And I’m reminded of the photographer fumbling all over her yesterday.
She flushes and my interest is piqued. What has she done that she didn’t like? Is she adventurous in bed? She seems so—innocent. Normally I don’t find that attractive.
“You can tell me, Anastasia. We have to be honest with each other or this isn’t going to work.” I really have to encourage her to loosen up—she won’t even talk about sex. She’s squirming again and staring at her fingers.
