Grey clouds roll across the expanse of Seattle early morning sky.  Glimpses of sunshine break through puffs of clouds as chilled eastern wind blow.  A storm is brewing.

"Thank you Taylor," I nod as he shuts the car door behind me with a thud.

Sprinting up three steps at a time towards the imposing Hunts Point townhouse, I stop in my tracks.  Zuckerberg exits the front door with the speed of a bat out of hell.

"Are you here with a dividends report too," he says casting a tentative backward glance.

"Not today.  I was summoned on another matter.  You got the third degree?"  A knowing grin tugs the edge of my lips.

"In all the years I've been in business, she's the only investor that grills me over each line of the report.  It was a bonanza year but you wouldn't know it...she expects more."  He snaps open the top button of his shirt and pulls at the tie as if it's strangling him.  "I need a drink," he laughs then leans in to give me a brief man hug.

"Early morning drinking Zuck, I'm pretty sure Priscilla would have something to say about that?"

"Priscilla would give a one-time pass, special dispensation."

"She humanises you, you lucky son of a gun."

"Not likely, she said yes."

"Shot gun wedding?"

"No baby pressure. Yes, to being my wife."

"Congratulations," I pat Zuck on the shoulder. "Marriage, now there's a life sentence most schmos don't see coming."

He shoots me a puzzled expression.

"Our diaries haven't synchronised in a while.   I'm interested to know where you've gotten to with VR and AI security.  Although most of what you do is shrouded in secrecy, I hear you're doing great things."

"You hear?"

"You know what I mean."

"I could tell you more, then I'd have to kill you," I pause, "Just kidding Zuck, my apps would have kept your fingerprints off the hacking 'Silicon Alley Insider' uncovered about you," I raise an eyebrow.

"Low blow Grey," he says mock punching my arm.  "It's cut throat out there, I do what I do to keep ahead of the competition."

"Sure, but the sixty five million dollar settlement you made to the Winklevoss brothers should have tempered the instinct to win at all costs."

"Not my finest hour, admittedly but no one has taken shots at me lately."

"When a situation escalates and a gun is pulled, bystanders duck, I don't," I reply with consternation turning back.  Taylor is standing at attention by the SUV.  A feeling of gratitude washes over me for the man who took a bullet for me three months ago.

"It could have been staged to look like an accident."

I sigh, "Wrong place, wrong time, anyway, when did taking bullets become part of a CEO's job description?"

"It's in the small print, Grey.  Get a bullet proof vest."

We both chuckle.

"Do you ever wish we were back in Harvard, finessing ideas to change the world?"

"In four days I'll be twenty seven years old, I am CEO and Chairman of a company I co-founded. I'm on top of the world and best of all, I have the best woman to share it all with."  He looks at me as if I am missing out on life's greatest opportunity.  "And right now I have to get to the floating helipad and put some distance between me and her," Zuckerberg glances back at the imposing front door he fled from. "Sorry, I shouldn't say that, she's like a mother to you or something?"

"Or something," I say vaguely, "Elena can be intimidating."   The Domme in Elena must be sending Zuck's instincts for self-preservation into overdrive.  I've known her exactly eleven years.  A certain look from her can reduce a world leader to a bubbling child.  "Great seeing you Zuck, let's have a drink the next time you're in town."

"You bet Grey," he says reaching for his cell phone and walking hurriedly past me towards the helipad at the back of the mansion.

The sound of helicopter blades whirling into life fills the air as I let myself in through the enormous front door.  I stride into the spacious foyer, when my left leg is grabbed.

I look down physically recoiling from the four year old toddler.  I shake my leg and yank the child off my leg.  "Is that jam on your face and hands Barbarella Lincoln," I'm aghast.  Red sticky face and palm prints transfer onto the left trouser leg of my tailor made, ten thousand dollar, grey suit.

"Hi Christian," her twin brother grabs my right leg.  Repulsed, I pull the cherub off my person.

I really should have used the side entrance that leads directly into Elena's office. Running into Zuck distracted me.  "Why aren't you being supervised by your sister Crystal or Carmen," I demand angrily.

Oblivious to my disgust Barbarella enthuses, "Stay there, I'll show you the picture I drew."  She skips past the part time maid, Carmen Santos who is further along mopping.

"You should be getting ready for school," I raise my voice as Barbarella pirouettes towards the kitchen.

Barbarella returns with a crayon drawing that she shows me with the flourish of a renowned artist. It is of stick figures mostly joining hands.

"Who are all these people," I feign interest.

"Daddy is holding Mommy's hand. Daddy's holding Crystal's hand. Mommy's holding Christopher's hand and Christopher's holding my hand. I'm holding your hand," she explains as if I should have immediately recognised the stick figures.

"Who are these people standing at the back?"

"Lisa is standing behind Daddy, Carmen is standing behind Mommy and Taylor is standing behind you."

"Hmmm, not bad," I say unconvincingly handing back the child drawing that looks vaguely as described.   What is this?  There's a tiny stick figure protruding out of Lisa.  Interesting, Don is starting a family with his wife of four years.  After fathering three children with Elena and adopting their fourth child,most men would be satisfied.  There's something selfish about one man having such a large family in an overpopulated world.

Christopher pulls his twin who is heading for my leg.  "Mommy says not to touch him or Beast will come out."

"Your Mom said that?"

"She says the spell will break one day."

"Don't believe everything you're told."

"Why," she asks wide eyed and innocent.

"Because I say so," I snap impatiently.

"Belle did the picture for you to take home. You live there all by yourself," Christopher interjects.

"I'll find a place for it," I say folding the picture in a way that stops red, sticky, jam hand prints from transferring onto my grey suit.  Noting my unease the maid beckons the kids to her.

"Don't let the twins follow me," I instruct, "I'll take a freshly laundered suit from the wardrobe in the guest room, give this one to Taylor when you take the children to school."

"Yes, Mr. Grey," she replies in a husky voice. "I'm sorry Belle got away as I mopped up after breakfast," head bowed and eyes down cast, she ushers them away.

Unrepentant, the giggling four year old twins wave vigorously to me.

Carmen seductively winks at me.

If Carmen had a face to face encounter with the beast struggling to escape from inside of me, if she knew what I was capable of, she wouldn't be flirting with me, she would be fleeing from mortal danger.

***Flashback***

Brightmoor, Detroit, 1988

There's pounding on the front door. I scurry for the threadbare, three seat sofa chair. Where are my toy cars? I can't see them anywhere. Momma is dressed, staggering towards me, a look of urgency on her face.

"Why aren't you in the wardrobe," she admonishes.

"I can't find my cars."

"Damn the cars," her words slur, "when did you see them last," she asks ushering me clumsily into the wardrobe.

"When I brought in the milk."

"There's no time to look now, I have to work. Here take these instead. She takes off her necklace. "It will keep you safe." She then hands me three dolls, "These will be your friends, remember not a sound and don't open the door till I come get you okay?"

I nod. "I'm cold."

"You're always cold."

"I want to go home."

"You're home son."

"I miss yellow, hot sun."

"Close your eyes, think about it hard enough and the sun will heat your skin."

As I take a step into the wardrobe she says, "What's the only thing that cleans dead flesh?"

"Maggots."

"You're my maggot, you are the only person who comes back to me," she roughly ruffles my bronze, unruly, long hair that's held up in a ponytail.

There's more banging on the door then Momma is talking to someone with a deep voice.

I settle into the cramped space, shivering.  Tiny shards of light evade my hiding space from the top.  It allows me to stare at the dolls that have replaced my cars for this session of wardrobe sitting.  Two dolls shine in evening gowns, flowing hair, full red lips.  One is blonde and the other is African-American.   A third blonde doll is in a short dress.  My companions are unconcerned by where we find ourselves.

Their stillness and silence quell my natural instinct to fidget.

I slide Momma's necklace over my head and it hangs low to my stomach. I flinch from the cold metal against my naked skin.

Hunger causes my stomach to rumble loudly.   I observe the dolls and decide I like the ones in the long flowing dresses best.   I mimic their stillness waiting for Momma to return.

***End of flashback***

As I change into a freshly laundered grey Armani suit, I think how markedly different boisterous, energetic, self assured four year old Christopher and Barbarella are from me at that age.

They have Don and Elena Lincoln as parents. What did I have at their age? A substance abusing, single mother trapped in a cycle of cripplingly violent poverty and prostitution.

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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.

***This story is under construction, it has not been edited and content could change***

September, 23, 2016

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