I hurry out of the shower, not worrying about shaving or drying myself too thoroughly. When I walk back into the bedroom with just a small towel round my waist, Anastasia is scrambling round frantically searching for her jeans, making it highly likely that my gut instinct that she would run is correct.

I'm not vain, but neither do I suffer from false modesty. I know I'm considered good looking by most people, and that I have a decent body that I take good care of. I also know this doesn't make me a beautiful person. It's just a shell, a façade, and I can't stand all the shallow people who swoon over my looks when they know nothing about the real me.

But in life you've got to use what you've been given, and I intend to use my physique and looks to try and entrap Anastasia under my sexual thrall, so that she will agree to become my submissive. That she is naïve and clearly not very experienced works to my advantage. There really is very little that I don't know about sex, having studied and practiced the subject in great detail since I was fifteen. I'm now an expert in sexual pleasure, sexual power and sexual control because I have such vast experience to draw on. What I don't know about fucking ain't worth knowing.

I'm surprised that Ana is up so quickly, having been virtually comatose just a short while ago. She looks shy, awkward and kind of gawky wearing just her T shirt with her long slim legs on show. She reminds me of Bambi somehow.

"If you're looking for your jeans, I've sent them to the laundry. They were spattered with your vomit," I inform her. "I sent Taylor out for another pair and some shoes. They're in the bag on the chair."

I'm thankful she didn't realize the bag was for her, or she may well have been dressed and out of the door before I could have stopped her.

I know that she's very aware of the fact that I'm right next to her, virtually naked, my muscular torso all wet and glistening from my shower. By her furious blush and erratic breathing I know that she's very affected by my close proximity and clearly having some pretty erotic thoughts. Naturally this pleases me, but I'm frustrated because I'd really love to know just exactly what those thoughts are. I don't somehow think they're anywhere near as filthy and kinky as your thoughts, Grey.

To hide her discomfort, she grabs the bag from me and quickly heads for the shower, muttering her thanks.

Once she's gone, I dry myself off. I quickly towel dry my hair, run my fingers through it and then leave it to do its own thing. I dress in my usual casual attire of white linen shirt and black jeans. I don't do color. I'm not a bright color kind of guy.

Ana is still in the shower when breakfast arrives, so I knock on the bathroom door to tell her.

She makes her appearance as I'm reading the newspaper, then panics about contacting her friend Kate.

"She knows you're here and still alive. I texted Elliot," I reassure her, and also confirm that, as expected, he did spent the night with Miss Kavanagh. I smile wryly to myself as I remember Elliot's text back to me.

*Did you u get laid 2 little bro?*

I could have replied,

*I'm working on it big bro.*

But of course I didn't. I prefer to let Elliot continue to think I'm some sort of repressed, celibate gay, for now anyway. I've worked out that's what the rest of my family have concluded, since I've never been seen with a girl, never brought one home. They have no idea at all of my BDSM lifestyle, and that's the way it will stay. I never want to upset Mom.

My family are all only too aware that I have a ferocious temper, along with an intense dislike of discussing anything remotely personal with anyone, so no one's ever had the nerve to actually broach the subject of my sexuality outright with me. I let Elliot get away with teasing me only because he's my brother, he's family, but I would not tolerate it from anyone else. He's always trying to provoke me to find something out, nosy bastard that he is, and I know he must be burning with curiosity about what exactly my relationship with Anastasia is - after all I'm reliably informed that a lot of females like to have a gay male friend.

I'm really not that happy about Elliot seeing Kate, because he may well find out things from her about Ana before I do. I don't like that idea one bit, but there is little I can do about it. I certainly can't control or forbid my big brother, but hopefully he's been far too busy otherwise occupied, as I'm certain he'll have been spending all of his time fucking Kate every which way he can think of. Curvy, busty, blonde females, that's what Elliot likes; there's never been any doubt at all about his sexual predilections.

"Sit," I indicate to Anastasia that she should come and sit opposite me. Then I can look at her, maybe try to gauge what she's thinking. Mostly I just want to look at her, especially those beautiful blue eyes.

"I didn't know what you liked so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu," I explain rather shamefacedly, looking at the huge range of food on the table. I was torn between my abhorrence of waste, versus my worry that Ana hadn't eaten anything for a long time. Feeding Ana won out, but I feel guilty.

"That's very profligate of you," she remarks, as she makes her selection of pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs and bacon from the wide choice available. Happy and relieved about her healthy appetite, I turn my attention back to finishing my egg white omelet.

Ana seems impressed with the Twinings English Breakfast tea that I've specially ordered for her, having remembered she said that was her favorite. I take pride in remembering details when negotiating contracts - the devil is in the detail, as they say. Sometimes it's the little things that can make all the difference in my experience.

I'm displeased to see that her long hair is still dripping wet from her shower. She needs to take better care of herself in so many ways. If she signs up to be my sub, the rules will be a very good thing for her. She needs that control and discipline from me to ensure her good health. I don't believe she even looked for the hairdryer when she tries to say she couldn't find it, but I reluctantly let the matter drop. I've scolded her enough this morning already.

I really like her hair; it's very long. It will make an excellent braid for me to grip and restrain her when I'm fucking her hard.

Next she thanks me for organizing the new clothes for her.

"It's a pleasure, Anastasia. That color suits you." I knew it would. It really brings out the color of her pretty eyes. She should wear blue more often.

As usual, Taylor has done well with the purchases, but of course he knows my tastes, which labels I like. And the name of Christian Grey opens the door to many of the exclusive shops, whatever the day of the week, whatever the time of day or night. Taylor has all the right contacts; that's part of his job. He can also size up a female figure just as accurately as he would any terrorist suspect to ensure he picks out the right size, as well as use the old clothes to gain some clues.

My words make Anastasia look down again, which I hate. This is strange when I consider that normally I expect my submissive to look down unless I give them permission to look at me. More confusion for me to try and fathom out.

"You know, you really should learn to take a compliment."

Compliments seem to make her uncomfortable. Why? A beautiful woman like her deserves compliments. Does she think I'm just flattering her? She should know I'm not in the habit of lying; I just say what I see.

"I should give you some money for these clothes." What the fuck? "You've already given me the books, which of course I can't accept. But these clothes...please let me pay you back."

Does she not know who I am for fucks sake? Is she trying to insult me?

"Anastasia, trust me, I can afford it."

I'm a goddamn billionaire, one of the richest men in America. Hasn't she figured that out yet? But I guess I should be pleased that she isn't interested in my money. Makes a refreshing change, that's for sure.

"That's not the point. Why should you buy them for me?" she argues back.

God, she's an independent little thing. But I quite like that, which again surprises me. I suppose it's because she's not boring or bland. She dares to challenge me, which means she's really quite brave. But I'd still like to punish her for her impudence.

"Because I can."I like being rich. I like the power it gives me. The control.

"Just because you can doesn't mean that you should," she comes back at me defiantly again.

Yes, Miss Steele, I'd really take the greatest of pleasure in punishing that smart, pretty mouth of yours. Oh yes, no doubt about that. I'd have you down on your knees in front of me, wrists handcuffed behind you, or maybe bound tightly with a spiteful cable tie. Then I'd really fuck that smart mouth of yours.

"Why did you send me the books, Christian?" she asks me quietly.

She really wants to know. She doesn't understand about me, and why should she? She has no idea what I'm really like. I suppose I have to try and explain, I think she deserves that. If I want her to agree to be my new sub, I have to try to be up front and as honest as I can without scaring her off.

"Well, when you were run over by the cyclist - and I was holding you, and you were looking up at me - all 'kiss me, kiss me, Christian', hell this is hard, I felt I owed you an apology and a warning. Anastasia, I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of man, I don't do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear of me. You deserve a better man but I can't help myself. There's something about you, though, and I'm finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you've figured that out already."

Ana stares intently at me with those mesmerizing big blue eyes of hers.

"Then don't," she whispers.

I feel my heart lurch chaotically. I'm speechless for a minute; she has astounded me with her words. Despite everything I've said, she isn't put off. She wants me. Really wants me. She feels the strong attraction between us too, just as much as I do. But she doesn't understand yet the limitations of what I can offer her.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Enlighten me then."

The atmosphere between us has really intensified. It feels as if an erotic and powerful spell has been cast over us both as we stare at each other.

"You're not celibate then?" she whispers.

I nearly burst out laughing at this.

"No, Anastasia, I'm not celibate." Oh no, most certainly not, and I can't wait to prove that to you.

I can feel my heart pounding with excitement, and I know she feels the same, that's why she's blushing deeply. Christ, I feel heady with anticipation. I have to take this to the next stage, I have to show her what I expect from her, she needs to know. I need her to come to my apartment in Seattle so I can show her my playroom. I shouldn't let myself get this excited yet, because chances are she's going to say no once she's been in there and seen it all.

"What are your plans for the next few days?"

"I'm working today, from midday." She suddenly panics." What time is it?"

I reassure her that it's just after ten, so there is plenty of time for her to get to work.

"What about tomorrow?"

She tells me she's working at Claytons all week. Shit. I don't like her working there, but as yet I don't have the power to forbid it. But at least she'll be leaving soon, as I discover that she and Kate are moving to Seattle next weekend. I'm fucking delighted when she tells me that she's going to be living in the Pike Market District, which is really close to my apartment.

Yes! She's going to be nearby. Perfect!

A piece of the puzzle has fallen into place. This really could work. Maybe we can sort out another piece of the puzzle too.

"So what are you going to do for work in Seattle?

"I've applied for some internships. I'm waiting to hear."

"Have you applied to my company as I suggested?"

She looks embarrassed. She flushes and fidgets in her seat as she admits that she hasn't.

"And what's wrong with my company?" I demand, surprised and actually a bit offended.I have graduates fighting to join my company. There are over a hundred applicants for every vacancy, and I only employ the very best. They are exceptionally well paid and have an assured bright future.

So why the hell hasn't she applied when I've practically offered it to her on a plate? I really want to take care of her and keep her safe, which I could do much more easily if she were working in my company, under my control. As I recall, her GPA was 4, and her SAT score was 2150, so she is actually a very bright girl indeed and I think she could do very well.

I could make an exception to my 'no fucking the staff' rule, just for her. Hell, it's my fucking company, I'll employ whoever I fucking well want. I'd make it work.

"Your company or your Company?" she asks cheekily as she smirks at me.

She is so frustrating and yet I can't help but be amused by that cheekiness.

Then she starts biting on her bottom lip and it's so sexy and erotic that I feel myself harden as I whisper to her, "I'd like to bite that lip."

She's shocked, yet I know my words turn her on. We're not even touching, but the sexual tension between us crackles, raw and sizzling.

"Why don't you?" she responds huskily.

She is challenging me, and it is so fucking hard to resist that challenge, but I must, I know I have to.

"Because I'm not going to touch you, Anastasia - not until I have your written consent to do so." I have to be sure she understands what I'm asking from her, before I can give into this red hot passion that is undeniably building between us.

"What does that mean?"

I sigh, as I can see that none of this makes any sense to her, because of course she still has no idea about my lifestyle. I doubt she's even heard of a Dominant/submissive relationship. But I can't explain about it to her here, now. She needs to see my playroom to fully comprehend what it would mean to be my sub.

"Exactly what I say. I need to show you Anastasia. What time do you finish work this evening?"

"About eight."

"Well we could go to Seattle this evening or next Saturday for dinner at my place, and I'll acquaint you with the facts then. The choice is yours."

"Why can't you tell me now?" She sounds like a petulant child.

"Because I'm enjoying my breakfast and your company. Once you're enlightened, you probably won't want to see me again."

Despair washes over me at the thought of Anastasia walking away from me. But I am who I am. I have to be honest.

"Tonight."

"Like Eve, you're so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge." So impatient.

But at least it means I won't have to wait so long for her decision I suppose, and I do hate waiting.

So I call Taylor, tell him to have Charlie Tango ready for me this evening, concisely instructing him about the arrangements.

Ana seems amused by this.

"Do people always do what you tell them?" she queries.

"Usually, if they want to keep their jobs," I inform her. Or else I fire their asses. No sweat.

"And if they don't work for you?"

"Oh I can be very persuasive Anastasia. You should finish your breakfast. And then I'll drop you home. I'll pick you up at Clayton's at eight when you finish. We'll fly up to Seattle."

Anastasia looks stunned. "Fly?"

"Yes. I have a helicopter," I answer, and I know it's immature of me to show off, but I'm delighted by how impressed she is. My helicopter is my pride and joy. I really love it, it was the first thing I acquired when I entered the super-rich league. I've always been fascinated by helicopters.

But this is the first time I've taken a girl in it. Is it desperation to impress her that's driving me to such lengths? Hell, it'll be fun taking her up in Charlie Tango, and anyway I love finding an excuse to fly it. Plus it's much quicker than going by car.

But then I'm brought back down to earth by the fact that she has stopped eating her breakfast.

"Eat what's on your plate. If you'd eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be declaring my hand so soon."

I'm suddenly all too aware that she will most likely run once she's seen the inside of my playroom, and the thought of her turning me down is too painful for me to contemplate.

"Where did you sleep last night?" she asks, as it belatedly occurs to her that there is only one bed.

"In my bed."

"Oh."

"Yes, it was quite a novelty for me too."

"Not having...sex?" she questions, as she blushes shyly.

"No, sleeping with someone," I admit reluctantly. I don't really want to discuss this with her any further because I'm still very confused about it myself, so to prevent any further questions I start reading my paper again. I must make an appointment with Flynn sooner rather than later, to try and get things sorted more clearly in my head.

Anastasia goes and dries her hair, and once I've taken care of some business with regard to my Darfur shipment, we make our way out to take her home.

She looks at me while we wait for the elevator, a shy but oh so sexy look up at me through her lashes. And with just that glance, in that second I am incredibly turned on by this sexy little creature - and I don't think she even knows she's doing it.

Once we step into the empty elevator, my already heightened state of arousal is sent into the stratosphere by the sight of Anastasia biting her bottom lip in the way that drives me insane.

"Oh, fuck the paperwork."

I can't resist her any longer. I throw caution to the wind as I grab her and push her back against the wall of the elevator. Yeah, yeah, I know, I wasn't going to lay a finger on Miss Steele until everything was signed and sealed between us. So sue me.

She's caught by surprise as I quickly take her hands and clasp them tightly above her head. I grind my hips hard against her to pin her up against the wall, my pulsing, aching erection demanding some sort of contact with her. I grab her hair hard to pull her face up, to gain access to that sexy, full, pouty mouth of hers, and as she moans her submission, my tongue invades and possesses her. I'm driven even wilder when she tentatively responds, her tongue dancing with mine, and I hold her chin to allow me to possess her even more deeply. She tastes, she smells, and she feels...indescribably sweet and lovely.

"You. Are. So. Sweet," I whisper, bedazzled by the powerful effect she is having on me, but then I have to pull myself together as the elevator stops and the doors open. I somehow break the spell to push her away from me. I quickly compose myself and set my facial expression to impassive, but I can see that naïve little Miss Steele is rather less successful, with her giveaway erratic breathing and flushed face. The men who enter the elevator smirk knowingly, but then thankfully exit at the second floor.

"You've brushed your teeth," I state, having tasted the minty flavor in her mouth and wondering how she did this, when I know she didn't have her toothbrush with her.

"I used your toothbrush," she whispers, and somehow that is just so erotic. The moist brush in my mouth and then hers. Mmm, so sexy.

"Oh Anastasia Steele, what am I going to do with you?" I ask rhetorically. I'm cross with myself for losing control in the elevator like that, when I'd decided there would be no physical contact between us yet, that it wasn't going to happen. This really isn't like me at all. Get a grip, Grey. Can't control yourself for two minutes? Pathetic.

"What is it about elevators?" I sigh, as we make our way out to the car.

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Content Warning: The fan fiction you are reading describes adult, liberal, unconventional relationships. The characters, their personalities, occupations, relationships and events in this story are not always consistent with the original stories 'Fifty Shades of Grey' or 'Grey'. Hopefully they reflect the complexities and moral ambiguities of the original. Billed as erotica with unconventional relationships accessible to a mature audience, this story develops through consensual BDSM themed sexual encounters.

If you do not want to access a multimedia erotic romance that involves extra marital relationships, same sex attraction, ménage à trios, triggers, mental health issues, flash backs of child abuse or descriptions of sexual conduct, please stop reading now.

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