Grey
Page 121
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
She doesn’t respond; I hope for once she’s doing what she’s told and she’s asleep. Briefly I think of what we could do tomorrow, but it’s too arousing, so I push the thought aside and concentrate on my e-mails.
But I have to confess I feel a little lighter after some e-mail banter with Miss Steele. She’s good for my dark, dark soul.
FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 2011
I can’t sleep. It’s after two and I’ve been staring at the ceiling for an hour. Tonight it’s not my sleeping nightmares that are keeping me awake. It’s a waking one.
Leila Williams.
The smoke detector on my ceiling is winking at me, its flashing green light mocking me.
Hell!
I close my eyes and let my thoughts run free.
Why was Leila suicidal? What possessed her? Her desperate unhappiness resonates with a younger, miserable me. I’m trying to quash my memories, but the anger and desolation of my solitary teen years resurfaces and it won’t go away. It reminds me of my pain and of how I lashed out at everyone during my youth. Suicide crossed my mind often, but I always held back. I resisted for Grace. I knew she’d be devastated. I knew she would blame herself if I took my life, and she’d done so much for me—how could I hurt her like that? And after I met Elena…everything changed.
Rising from the bed, I push these disquieting thoughts to the back of my mind. I need the piano.
I need Ana.
If she’d signed the contract and everything had gone according to plan, she would be with me, upstairs, asleep. I could wake her, and lose myself in her…or, under our new arrangement, she would be beside me, and I could fuck her and then watch her sleep.
What would she make of Leila?
As I sit down on the piano bench I know that Ana will never meet Leila, which is a good thing. I know how she feels about Elena. Lord knows how she’d feel about an ex…a wayward ex.
This is what I can’t reconcile: Leila was happy, mischievous, and bright when I knew her. She was an excellent submissive; I thought she’d settled down and was happily married. Her e-mails never indicated that anything was awry. What went wrong?
I start to play…and my troubled thoughts recede until it’s just the music and me.
Leila is servicing my cock with her mouth.
Her skilled mouth.
Her hands are tied behind her back.
Her hair braided.
She’s on her knees.
Eyes cast down. Modest. Alluring.
Not seeing me.
And suddenly she’s Ana.
Ana on her knees before me. Naked. Beautiful.
My cock in her mouth.
But Ana’s eyes are on mine.
Her blazing blue eyes see everything.
See me. My soul.
She sees the darkness and the monster beneath.
Her eyes widen in horror and suddenly she disappears.
Shit! I wake with a start, and a painful erection that wanes as soon as I recall Ana’s wounded look in my dream.
What the hell?
I rarely have erotic dreams. Why now? I check my alarm; I’ve beaten it by a few minutes. The morning sunlight is creeping between the buildings as I rise. Already I’m restless, no doubt as a result of my disturbing dream, so I decide to go for a run to burn off some energy. There are no new e-mails, no messages, no updates on Leila. The apartment is quiet as I leave. There’s no sign of Gail yet. I hope she’s recovered from yesterday’s ordeal.
I open the glass doors in the lobby, step outside into a balmy, sunny morning, and carefully scan the street. As I start my run I check down the alleys and in the doorways I pass, and behind the parked cars, to see if Leila is there.
Where are you, Leila Williams?
I turn the volume up on the Foo Fighters and my feet pound the sidewalk.
OLIVIA IS EXCEPTIONALLY IRRITATING today. She’s spilled my coffee, dropped an important call, and keeps mooning at me with her big brown eyes.
“Get Ros back on the line,” I bark at her. “Better still, get her up here.” I shut my office door and go back to my desk; I must try not to take my temper out on my staff.
Welch has no news, except that Leila’s parents think their daughter is still in Portland with her husband. There’s a knock on my door.
“Come in.” I hope to God it’s not Olivia. Ros pokes her head around.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Sure. Come in. Where are we with Woods?”
ROS EXITS JUST BEFORE ten. All is on track: Woods has decided to accept the deal, and the aid for Darfur will soon be on the road to Munich in preparation for the airlift. There’s no news yet from Savannah about their offer.
I check my inbox and find a welcome e-mail from Ana.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 12:53 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
I am once again ensconced in first class, for which I thank you. I am counting the minutes until I see you this evening and perhaps torturing the truth out of you about my nocturnal admissions.
Your Ana x
Torturing me? Oh, Miss Steele, I think it will be the other way around. As I have a great deal to do, I keep my reply short.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 09:58
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia, I look forward to seeing you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
But Ana is not satisfied.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 13:01 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dearest Mr. Grey,
I hope everything is okay re “the situation.” The tone of your e-mail is worrying.
Ana x
At least I still earned a kiss. Surely she should be airborne by now?
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 10:04
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia,
The situation could be better. Have you taken off yet? If so, you should not be e-mailing. You are putting yourself at risk, in direct contravention of the rule regarding your personal safety. I meant what I said about punishments.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I’m about to call Welch for an update, but there’s a ping—Ana again.
From: Anastasia Steele
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
She doesn’t respond; I hope for once she’s doing what she’s told and she’s asleep. Briefly I think of what we could do tomorrow, but it’s too arousing, so I push the thought aside and concentrate on my e-mails.
But I have to confess I feel a little lighter after some e-mail banter with Miss Steele. She’s good for my dark, dark soul.
FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 2011
I can’t sleep. It’s after two and I’ve been staring at the ceiling for an hour. Tonight it’s not my sleeping nightmares that are keeping me awake. It’s a waking one.
Leila Williams.
The smoke detector on my ceiling is winking at me, its flashing green light mocking me.
Hell!
I close my eyes and let my thoughts run free.
Why was Leila suicidal? What possessed her? Her desperate unhappiness resonates with a younger, miserable me. I’m trying to quash my memories, but the anger and desolation of my solitary teen years resurfaces and it won’t go away. It reminds me of my pain and of how I lashed out at everyone during my youth. Suicide crossed my mind often, but I always held back. I resisted for Grace. I knew she’d be devastated. I knew she would blame herself if I took my life, and she’d done so much for me—how could I hurt her like that? And after I met Elena…everything changed.
Rising from the bed, I push these disquieting thoughts to the back of my mind. I need the piano.
I need Ana.
If she’d signed the contract and everything had gone according to plan, she would be with me, upstairs, asleep. I could wake her, and lose myself in her…or, under our new arrangement, she would be beside me, and I could fuck her and then watch her sleep.
What would she make of Leila?
As I sit down on the piano bench I know that Ana will never meet Leila, which is a good thing. I know how she feels about Elena. Lord knows how she’d feel about an ex…a wayward ex.
This is what I can’t reconcile: Leila was happy, mischievous, and bright when I knew her. She was an excellent submissive; I thought she’d settled down and was happily married. Her e-mails never indicated that anything was awry. What went wrong?
I start to play…and my troubled thoughts recede until it’s just the music and me.
Leila is servicing my cock with her mouth.
Her skilled mouth.
Her hands are tied behind her back.
Her hair braided.
She’s on her knees.
Eyes cast down. Modest. Alluring.
Not seeing me.
And suddenly she’s Ana.
Ana on her knees before me. Naked. Beautiful.
My cock in her mouth.
But Ana’s eyes are on mine.
Her blazing blue eyes see everything.
See me. My soul.
She sees the darkness and the monster beneath.
Her eyes widen in horror and suddenly she disappears.
Shit! I wake with a start, and a painful erection that wanes as soon as I recall Ana’s wounded look in my dream.
What the hell?
I rarely have erotic dreams. Why now? I check my alarm; I’ve beaten it by a few minutes. The morning sunlight is creeping between the buildings as I rise. Already I’m restless, no doubt as a result of my disturbing dream, so I decide to go for a run to burn off some energy. There are no new e-mails, no messages, no updates on Leila. The apartment is quiet as I leave. There’s no sign of Gail yet. I hope she’s recovered from yesterday’s ordeal.
I open the glass doors in the lobby, step outside into a balmy, sunny morning, and carefully scan the street. As I start my run I check down the alleys and in the doorways I pass, and behind the parked cars, to see if Leila is there.
Where are you, Leila Williams?
I turn the volume up on the Foo Fighters and my feet pound the sidewalk.
OLIVIA IS EXCEPTIONALLY IRRITATING today. She’s spilled my coffee, dropped an important call, and keeps mooning at me with her big brown eyes.
“Get Ros back on the line,” I bark at her. “Better still, get her up here.” I shut my office door and go back to my desk; I must try not to take my temper out on my staff.
Welch has no news, except that Leila’s parents think their daughter is still in Portland with her husband. There’s a knock on my door.
“Come in.” I hope to God it’s not Olivia. Ros pokes her head around.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Sure. Come in. Where are we with Woods?”
ROS EXITS JUST BEFORE ten. All is on track: Woods has decided to accept the deal, and the aid for Darfur will soon be on the road to Munich in preparation for the airlift. There’s no news yet from Savannah about their offer.
I check my inbox and find a welcome e-mail from Ana.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 12:53 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
I am once again ensconced in first class, for which I thank you. I am counting the minutes until I see you this evening and perhaps torturing the truth out of you about my nocturnal admissions.
Your Ana x
Torturing me? Oh, Miss Steele, I think it will be the other way around. As I have a great deal to do, I keep my reply short.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 09:58
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia, I look forward to seeing you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
But Ana is not satisfied.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 13:01 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dearest Mr. Grey,
I hope everything is okay re “the situation.” The tone of your e-mail is worrying.
Ana x
At least I still earned a kiss. Surely she should be airborne by now?
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 10:04
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia,
The situation could be better. Have you taken off yet? If so, you should not be e-mailing. You are putting yourself at risk, in direct contravention of the rule regarding your personal safety. I meant what I said about punishments.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I’m about to call Welch for an update, but there’s a ping—Ana again.
From: Anastasia Steele
