I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. I hope you—as a fellow fan—enjoy it, too.
This woman has the ability to make me human. Oh, please God, let it be so. After my Butterfly serenades me beautifully with a song that I swear I’ll never forget, I feast for quite some time on her delectable lips and tongue, gobbling up as much of her as I possibly can without completely consuming her. I never thought I would ever be able to let anyone touch my scars. At first, it was just a gesture—something to show her that I completely understood the pain that she had endured and the terror that attaches to it for years and years. But when she touched me… something happened. I don’t know what it was and it’s hard to describe. It was so alien at first and then, it was like I hungered for it—like it would hurt me more if she stopped.
And I have to say that the oil back massage was genius. My little Butterfly knew exactly what I needed… but her song! Her song injected life and light and healing into me and when she told me the name of it, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! I’ve never heard of the song before and I have a date with Google soon to find it, but I swear that’s the same way that I feel about her—that I want to love her pain away… But am I capable of love? Am I worthy of her love? Does she love me now? Can she possibly love me? After so little time together? At all?
These are all questions that’ll have to wait because I plan on spending as much time as possible with my beautiful Butterfly and we haven’t eaten anything all day. So, we both decide that we should get something to eat, for man cannot live by sex alone. Of course, Butterfly has no clothes here besides the few items in her overnight bag to wear back home. I’m hoping to convince her to stay another night, so we have to save those clothes. So, when I ask her what she wants to wear and she says, “One of your dress shirts that you’ve already worn,” I’m happy to oblige. How could I not want to see those mile-long legs strutting around my apartment with that delectable little ass wiggling around in one of my shirts? Shit, I thought Greystone was out of commission, but he seems to be showing signs of life. Down, boy… must get sustenance…
We snatch various leftovers out of the kitchen, take them to the great room and have a picnic on the floor. We have so much to talk about and I want to tell her everything. I tell her how many subs I’ve had and that they all fit the same description. I had 15 subs before her between 21 and several weeks ago and they all looked like her—petite brunette women with pale skin. That’s my type. I don’t tell her why that’s my type yet. No matter how open-minded she is, some things simply must be spoon-fed.
We talk more about Elena and my introduction to the lifestyle and what it accomplished. She was completely appalled. I don’t use Elena’s name, but I describe the introduction and process in great detail—how she slapped me for mouthing off at her and told me to come back the next day, at which time I found myself being slapped, on my knees, and fucked on a regular basis. I told her how long the relationship lasted and that Elena financed my business. I didn’t tell her that Elena and I had been friends until a couple of days ago when I found out that the skank tried to fuck my 14-year-old brother.
“So where is this Pedo-Bitch She-Thing now? In jail, I hope!” she spits. I break into laughter. Elena has yet another unflattering nickname. Just as we are about to expound upon the subject, my wall phone rings in the kitchen. I know that’s the doorman because he’s the only one that calls that line.
“Mr. Grey, Mrs. Lincoln is down here and she’s making a terrible scene—something about the access codes being changed without her knowledge. I tried to tell her that I cannot give her the codes without your permission no matter how long I’ve known of her!“ I know that last part was more for Elena than for me. “But she is quite insistent. Should I give her the codes, Sir?” And of course, Taylor isn’t quite on duty yet. I hate to call him in for this—or out of his love nest on the other side of the penthouse, I should say—but I better tell him that there is about to be a situation.
“Don’t give her the codes, Mark. I’ll call you back in a moment.” I hang up and call Gail and Taylor’s quarters.
“Sir,” Taylor answers.
“Mrs. Lincoln is on her way up.” I say.
“Okay…” he says, expecting,
“Ana is still here.” After a moment, realization dawns.
“Oh!” he responds.
“Dressed in one of my shirts.”
“On my way, sir.” He hangs up. I’m not really comfortable with Taylor seeing Ana in only one of my shirts, but the thought of Elena seeing it kind of gives me a little tingle inside. I turn to Ana who is standing on the other side of the breakfast bar with her hands on her hips. She knows something is brewing. I go over to her and take her hands in mine.
“I want to be completely honest with you. I don’t know where our relationship is going and I sure as hell would like to find out. But I’m a damaged man, Ana, and you will see more damage as time goes by. I won’t hide anything from you unless I feel that it’s best for your safety or your sanity.” I sigh. “I need to know if you can deal with that.”
Whoa! Pump ya‘ brakes! I’ve only known this man for three weeks—intimately, only two days—and he’s coming at me with this heavy speech about being damaged and my only seeing a portion of the damage? Even though I’m taught to be open-minded, this is a little bit scary.
“Christian, what are you trying to tell me?” I ask outright. He sighs again and sits on one of the stools at his breakfast bar, still holding my hands.
“I think I may be feeling something for you, Ana. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m afraid that if I tell you every twisted thing about me that you’ll run. And one of those twisted things is downstairs with the doorman right now.” Oh fuck! What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“Be more specific, please,” I say flatly. He sighs heavily.
“There’s so much that I have to tell you, and I know I may forget to tell you something, but I’m going to tell you everything. If I do forget to tell you something, it may pop up like that proverbial Jack-in-the-box that we spoke of last night and surprise you. I’m telling you this in advance because I don’t want you to be pissed at me. Now if I see it coming, I’m going to give you a crash course in 15 seconds so that you’re never ambushed by something that’s about to occur. Hopefully it won’t come up with anything too detrimental, vital, or shocking. More skeletons are falling out of my closet that we haven’t had a chance to talk about yet, so I’m about to give you one of those crash courses so that you’re not befuddled by the conversation that’s most likely about to occur. I’ll apologize for it now and explain it later, but I know I’m going to forget something more than once and I don’t want you to think I’m hiding anything from you. Do you understand?”
“I don’t know, but keep talking,” I respond.
“There’s someone downstairs that we’ve been talking about quite a bit.” I start to run through the conversations that we have been having trying to figure out who we spoke about that could be visiting him.
“Okay.” Nothing is coming to mind yet.
“Elena Lincoln.” Is this name supposed to mean something to me? I know it’s serious because he won’t make eye contact with me. “We were friends until just a few days ago.”
“Friends?” I say suspiciously.
“Yes, friends. She used to supply me with submissives, and… she’s the woman that introduced me to the lifestyle.” I snatch my hands out of his reflexively. He looks like somebody just hit him. I’m horrified. This woman abused him as a child and he’s still friends with her?
“Why in the world would you remain friends with this woman?” I gasp.
“I swear to you; I’ll explain everything. All you need to know right now is that I no longer consider her a friend… but she’s not aware of that yet, which is why she’s downstairs giving my doorman hell.” I fold my arms across my chest. No doubt he wants to go handle the Pedo-Bitch She-Thing.
“So now, you want to go down there and talk to her, right?” I say, with just enough salt in my voice to let him know that I am not pleased with this development AT ALL!
“I can do that, or I can tell Marc to send her up,” he responds.
“Or send her away!” I shoot. Stank-ass, slutty, nasty, filthy, slimy, Pedo-Bitch She-Thing demon from hell!
“I could do that, too, but she’ll only come back,” he walks over to me and tentatively takes my hands again. “She’ll probably continue to show up no matter what I do, because I told her not to return to my apartment without an invitation, and here she is.” He pulls me into his arms. “But I would love to send her a message.” He says in a low, sexy voice… And now I see his game. Part of me wants to pick something up and hurl it at his head for putting me in this situation. Another part of me wants to see exactly what a stank-ass, slutty, nasty, filthy, slimy, Pedo-Bitch She-Thing demon from hell really looks like. Finally, there’s that last thing that’s being fed by The Bitch poking me in my side saying,
Get her! Get her! Get her! Come on! This’ll be fun! You know you want to do it! You know it! You, standing in his apartment, in his shirt—she’s going to have a heart attack.
Taylor shows up from… where? He’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I shudder to think what we interrupted. He pauses for a beat, notes my attire, then takes special pains not to look at me at all. “Sir, Marc indicates that he needs to know what you would like to do. It’s getting so that he may have to call the authorities soon.” Christian looks at me. I look over to Taylor and say, “Have him send her up, but don’t give her the codes.” Taylor looks back at Christian who nods his affirmation.
“I can only promise to behave myself is she behaves herself,” I state.
“She probably won’t behave herself,” he responds.
“Then don’t expect me to do it either.”
“Fair enough,” he says, his hooded eyes looking at my slightly exposed breasts peeking out of his shirt. I feel heat almost immediately.
“Christian, you can’t start anything with Pedo-Bitch She-Thing on her way up here,” I say, a little breathy. He pulls me closer to him. I’m standing between his legs, my hands on his shoulders.
“I can start whatever I like… we just have to wait until later to finish.” His deep sexy voice sends a spark of fire to my core that not even She-Thing’s pending arrival could extinguish… and then he kisses me—oh fuck, does he kiss me! His tongue is lapping into my mouth and his hands are grabbing onto my… um, his shirt and my ass. He’s got me damn near bent backwards over the breakfast bar and he’s kissing me with the ferocity of a starving man eating a T-bone steak. My hands tangle in his hair and I’m holding on for dear life.
I hear her before I see her, but there’s still a delay in my reaction because I’m buried in my man and he was buried in me… though not the way that I wanted him to be.
Did I just say my man? Oh, shit…
“Christian, I really don’t understand why…” She’s barking and then she freezes in her tracks. Christian breaks the kiss gently and looks up at She-Thing. It takes me a few more moments to return from yet another kiss-induced haze… what this man does to me.
Elena Lincoln. Tall, very pretty, excellent figure—but I swear she looks like she just stepped out of Dominatrix-R-Us! She has flaxen platinum blonde hair cut in a perfect bob wearing very pale foundation make-up and fire-engine red lipstick. She’s wearing this get-up that shouldn’t be seen before midnight, assuming it should be seen in public at all—much less on a Sunday afternoon! It’s a two-piece set—halter top and pants—that looks like vinyl with a pair of black platform stiletto boots. She has a snarl on her face that could stop traffic and not in a good way.
Momma always said don’t make that face—it might get stuck that way!
I know, right?
“Nice boots,” I say. It’s the only kind thing I can think of at the moment. Christian turns his head away from She-Thing to hide his small snicker.
“Well, hello, Christian,” she growls. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was appalled.
“Elena,” Christian says with no emotion at all.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” She has found her soft voice, it appears, and it makes my skin crawl. He looks at me and I nod.
“Elena this is Anastasia Steele.”
“Dr. Anastasia Steele,” I correct him.
“Ooo, Dr.,” she mocks. I laugh to myself. You have to kind of take in the scene here. I’m standing between this man’s legs—and I’ve discovered that he likes to wrap them around me when we’re in this position. I’m wearing his shirt and nothing else! He’s wearing pajama pants. We’re stuck in a lip lock that required for me to take a few moments to get my brain together before I could even acknowledge She-Thing’s presence. This bitch has strolled into the apartment and right into Christian’s kitchen looking like the blonde version of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark—again, not in a good way—obviously ready for some action. So, like Christian said before—if their relationship is over, someone clearly forgot to tell her. What’s more, she’s most certainly feeling more than friendship, because there’s no way in hell I’d turn up at Al’s house dressed like this… unless we were going to a costume party; then I would rock that shit!
She looks like she plans on teaching somebody a lesson!
“Anastasia this is Elena Lincoln,” Christian continues.
“Enchanted,” She-Thing sneers.
“Charmed,” I respond with just as much sincerity.
“So, Christian, you’re letting them wear your shirts now?” she says with a smirk. Oh, she wants to play.
“Them?” I look at Christian.
“Subs, dear,” she says sarcastically.
“Oh, gee Christian, am I a sub?” I say in a sing-songy voice, running my fingers through the dusting of hair on his chest. I could hear She-Thing’s breath catch from clean across the room. Yeah, Trick, I can touch his chest.
“No, but you’re an awful lot of fun to play with,” he says, seductively. I giggle like a school girl at our private joke and Christian laughs with me, kissing me playfully on the cheek. I’m only too sure that She-Thing doesn’t know what to make of any of this. Yeah, Bitch, he told me. I know all about you and the subs… well, maybe not all, but enough for this conversation.
“Well, I’m an old and dear friend of Christian’s,” she purrs. Bitch, I am standing damn-near naked between his legs. Are you still trying to piss here? Seriously?
“Is that so, Christian?” I say, sweetly, batting my eyelashes at him.
“Well, it used to be until I recently heard some very disturbing news about her. Now, I’m being forced to reevaluate our relationship,” Christian answers, coldly.
“Well, I….” she starts again. I hold my hand up to silence her. She looks a little shaken—her facial expression screams that she can’t believe I just did that.
“Let me save you some time trying to explain the pecking order here to me—I’m a big girl. I’m a psychologist. I know all about BDSM, I know all about the lifestyle, I know all about the subs… and I know all about you.” I say, my voice dripping with venom. “I don’t really care what your past relationship was. He has made it very clear that whatever relationship you think you have is—at this very moment—irrelevant. On the other hand, our relationship…” I roll my shoulders and pop my neck, “is very relevant because I’m still feeling the effects of it right now.” I smile. “So, since I don’t have anything that I need to hear from you or anything that I need to say to you, you don’t need to address me at all. You can say what you need to say to Christian and leave me alone, or better yet, just go away, because right now, you’re making a fool of yourself.” I think she and Christian are both a little stunned.
“Well, then, maybe you need to excuse us so that we can have a private conversation,” she scoffs. I look at Christian.
“Christian, do you want me to leave? I’ll respect your privacy if you need it,” I say sincerely.
“Yes, remember your place, girl!” She-Thing snaps. I’m out of Christian’s grasp in 1.2 seconds and in this bitch’s face.
“Don’t let the small frame fool you, Blondie. I will fuck you up,” I say through clenched teeth, looking up at her. Christian grabs my wrists and quickly but gently snatches me back into his arms.
“Whoa! Don’t light a fuse under that firecracker, Elena. You’re not going to like the explosion,” Christian warns. She-Thing can’t believe her ears.
“Are you just going to let her speak to me that way?” She-Thing says aghast. Christian shrugs.
“She was invited. You weren’t,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“Oh, and for the record,” I add, “nobody lets me do shit. I’m a grown ass woman and I do what the fuck I want.” She looks at me, completely shocked. “I told your ass that I wasn’t a sub. I guess you didn’t hear me!” She-Thing and I are glaring at each other. She doesn’t quite know what to say to me and I’m waiting for whatever flies out of her Pedo-Bitch mouth. I already know that she and I are going to have a showdown. It’s inevitable. I prefer it not be today, but if it is then so be it.
“Ana, baby,” Christian pulls my attention away from She-Thing and I can see her expression change when she hears the term of endearment, “I need you to go back to the bedroom for me. There are some things that I need to say to Elena and I don’t want her to think that I’m saying them for your benefit.” I look up into his slate gray eyes and somehow, I know he’s telling me the truth.
“Okay, baby,” I say as I kiss him on the cheek. If you need to handle your business, then handle your business because if you don’t, then I will! As I’m leaving, She-Thing goes to throw another verbal jab at me and all I hear is that beautiful baritone voice growl “Shut the fuck up, Elena!”
I go to Christian’s bedroom and wait for the conversation to be over. I can’t for the life of me understand why he would want to stay friends with a woman that molested him at the age of 15. I need to think about this like a doctor and not like a lover. I first need to know what drew him to BDSM. Was it the abuse he suffered? It was so long before 15. Part of me is surprised he even remembered that far—but traumatic experiences unfortunately never leave you. You either learn to deal with them or they consume you. So, did they consume him? He seems fine to me… though there was that issue with touching his chest—the same issue I have with my back for the most part. Oh, God, we’re so equally damaged. I need to hear him out. He’s told me a lot, but there is still something that he is not telling me. I need him to tell me everything.
But are you willing to tell him everything?
I don’t know…
How can you expect him to tell you everything if you’re not willing to tell him everything?
Because I’m afraid, I don’t know.
Oh, so I guess you think this is just going to be a cakewalk for him right? Hey, Mr. Grey, spill all of your guts to me while I keep my issues locked safely away from you in that pretty little box so the Boogie Man doesn’t get me. Yeah, brilliant plan, Dr. Steele!
I SO hate it when she’s right, especially when she gets all huffy about it… Bitch!
I can hear the voices in the kitchen get a little louder. I hear She-Thing break into laughter and I can only imagine what’s being said in there. I lay back on Christian’s bed. A few moments later, I swear I hear him say something about She-Thing and his brother. Shit, this is worse than I thought. I continue to battle with my thoughts while Christian battles with the child molester.
Elena has been condescending towards Ana ever since she walked in the door—but I expected as much. What I didn’t expect was for Elena to come uninvited to my home in full-on Domme garb. What the hell is this? I know she didn’t come over here expecting a scene. Is she out of her mind? And I almost feel sorry for her with the way that my sweet little Butterfly keeps getting these little jabs in on her. Every time she tries to figuratively swipe Ana’s feet, my baby just skips over the swing and gives it right back to her in some cute little Butterfly way… that is, until the gloves come off.
Butterfly wiggles out of my arms and stands face to face with Elena, letting Elena know that Butterfly is not one to fuck with. I should say chin to face because, in those stilettos, Elena is a good foot taller than Butterfly, but she doesn’t back down. I can’t help but think who should I be saving right now? Butterfly is very tiny, but she hit the nail on the head when she tells Elena not to let the small frame fool her. I figure I could save them both by grabbing the little wildcat and letting Elena know to tread lightly on that territory. Of course, Elena doesn’t listen to me. She has to prove that she has more control over me than any woman. What she doesn’t understand is that she no longer has any control over me at all. She used to, I’ll admit, and it had been diminishing slowly as the years progressed, but it has completely dissipated since I now know that she tried to recruit my brother into the Junior Legion of Subs. Now, even having her in my presence and especially in the presence of my Butterfly feels like an abomination. It’s time to end this useless strutting that she’s doing. I’ve had enough.
“Ana, baby, I need you to go back to the bedroom for me. There are some things that I need to say to Elena and I don’t want her to think that I’m saying them for your benefit.” She looks in my eyes and I’m willing her please baby let me get rid of this vermin.
“Okay, baby,” she says sweetly and kisses me on my cheek before she walks out of the kitchen. Elena goes to say something and I turn on her, cutting her off immediately.
“Shut the fuck up, Elena!” I snap. She glares at me. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but that one, you can’t run over, so you might as well stop now because she’s unlike anybody you’ve ever met in your life. I can guarantee you that!”
“What’s gotten into you? What has she done to you?” she says softly, like I’ve been altered against my will by the Body Snatchers.
“I’m not going to even bother trying to figure out what you mean by that statement,” I reply. “I’m testing the waters with Ana to see where this goes.” Her eyes widen and her mouth gapes.
“Testing the waters!?” she asks incredulously. “Are you telling me that you’re in a relationship with this girl?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you,” I say, flatly. She laughs heartily.
“Well, we’ll just see how long that lasts!” she says sarcastically. My blood is slowly starting to boil.
“You’re damn right we’re going to see how long it lasts, but you won’t be around to see it!” I say through clenched teeth. Her laughter subsides.
“What do you mean, Christian? What are you saying?” she asks horrified.
“What I should have said to you years ago… no! No, I don’t want a relationship with you. No, I don’t want you around me. No, I don’t want you touching me, calling me, or coming to my home!”
“She’s turned you against me!” Elena says, tears brimming in her eyes.
“No, Elena. She hasn’t even known of you for a full 24 hours yet. You turned me against you! You turned me against you before our relationship even started by coming on to my brother when he was 14. You turned me against you by making me think you were doing this to help me, to save me. Granted, this little exercise did teach me control, but that’s not why you did it. You did it for yourself. You saw a horny teenager that you wanted that was weak, that was headed down the wrong path. And not only were you able mold and shape me into what you felt that I should be, but you were also able to fulfill your lust for young boys. How many more were there, Elena? Would I have even been chosen if my brother had said ‘yes?’ Would I have even been a candidate in your little game? Oh, what am I thinking? Of course, I would have. He was 18 when I turned 15. That put him right at the age to be bumped out and for me to take his place!” I’m furious now. I can’t believe how blind I was all these years, and it took my brother calling her a wacky nickname to bring it all out.
“Christian, I… I’m sorry,” she squeaks.
“Sorry for what?” I roar. “Sorry for tricking me into believing you did this for me? Sorry for coming on to my brother? Sorry for lying about it all these years? Sorry for throwing a 14-year-old kid under the bus when it all came out? Or are you sorry for victimizing me when I had already been victimized? For making me trust you and believe you when you told me that this was the only way?”
“I taught you control, Christian!” she cries. “I gave you everything that you needed to control your destiny.”
“You showed me one option!” I yell, “and that option was beneficial for you! You hid every other option from me! You told me love was for fools! I never had any friends and I don’t have any now! You have friends, don’t you, Elena?” She’s weeping and won’t answer. “Don’t you?” I roar.
“Yes!” she cries.
“Then, why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t I live like a normal teenager? Why could you live in the lifestyle and still have a normal life outside and I couldn’t? Hell, you had a husband, but I couldn’t even have a girlfriend. You threatened to beat the hell out of me if I even looked at the girls at Harvard, and you were 3000 fucking miles away, and the one time that I did, you made good on your promise! Were you celibate while I was gone, Elena? I’ve always been monogamous with all of my subs; were you monogamous with me?” I’m damn near yelling at the top of my lungs.
“Christian, why are we talking about this right now?” she says through her tears.
“Because there won’t be another opportunity. I never want to have this conversation again. I want to tell Ana everything about me. I want to wipe this slate completely clean, and I can’t do it with you and this crap hanging over my head!”
“You mean, she doesn’t know?” I almost see a small flicker of hope in Elena’s eye. Oh, no, bitch. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
“She doesn’t know everything, but she knows about you!” I spit. I watch her little balloon deflate just as soon as it had risen, but I‘m not done with her yet. “You always stayed close, to make sure that you had that rein on me. You planted yourself in my mind so that you could have control when you weren’t there. You always picked my girls—somebody that was always close to you, as long as they didn’t get too close to me in the process. You always made sure another girl was ready when the first one wanted ‘more.’ It was like you knew…”
Then it hit me.
These were her girls. Of course, she knew! She knew the moment that these girls would want more. She’s the one who convinced me to get rid of them when they asked for more. She completely convinced me that I could have nothing outside of a Dom/sub relationship… ever! “Fuck!” I say out loud. It should have occurred to me with Naomi. She wanted more from the very beginning, and when I got rid of her, Elena wasn’t prepared. She couldn’t move fast enough to get me another sub. I was wondering why she showed up here that night… she was desperate! But she wasn’t desperate to fuck me… or even desperate to sub for me. She was desperate to maintain control! “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I could have gone my whole life without the realization that I just made.
I’ve been a sub for 14 years.
“Christian?” She comes over to me. “Christian, what is it?” She touches my arm and I jerk away from her touch.
“Do you still fuck little boys, Elena?” I say flatly. She looks at me like I just slapped her. Don’t tempt me.
“Why would you say something like that to me, Christian?” She acts appalled. I lose it again.
“Do you forget who you’re talking to?” I’m yelling. I grab her arms and I’m shaking her fiercely. “Do you forget that you fucked me for three years before I was legal? I was there, Elena—I’m not some kid saying that you came on to him 17 years ago; I was there!”
“Christian!” She’s wailing now. “Christian, you’re hurting me!”
“You knew what I had gone through! You knew what my life was like! You knew about the nightmares! You knew about the haphephobia! About my inability to forge relationships, my self-hatred, my drinking—you knew about it all, and you used it against me!” I yell.
“No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t! I gave you what you needed! Christian, please!” she cries.
I’ve gotten kind of comfy here in Christian’s bed and almost doze off until I swear I hear weeping. I raise my head and listen carefully. Raised voices… my baby… why is he yelling? And yes, I do hear weeping. I get up and walk out of the room, still wearing only Christian’s shirt. I meet Taylor in the hallway who only briefly eyes my attire and then turns a pretty shade of crimson.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Steele. I heard yelling… and crying…” I look down at Christian’s shirt and wave it off.
“Don’t worry about it, Taylor. I heard it, too.” As we come around the corner, Christian and She-Thing are in a heated discussion in the kitchen.
“You always stayed close…” He is yelling! I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell like that. “You always picked my girls—somebody that was always close to you, as long as they didn’t get too close to me in the process. You always made sure another girl was ready when the first one wanted ‘more.’ It was like you knew…” A look of realization comes over his face. I want to go to him, but Taylor catches my arm. When I look back at him, he shakes his head and put his index finger over his lip to shush me. I stay where I am and watch the massacre unfolding before me.
“Fuck!” he exclaims. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I look up at Taylor. This can’t be good. She-Thing says something to him, then Christian very calmly asks,
“Do you still fuck little boys, Elena?” What!? I gasp at his words, but they don’t realize I’m standing there yet. Yikes! How many boys has she molested?
“Why would you say something like that to me, Christian?” She asks him, and the next thing I know, he’s off again.
“Do you forget who you’re talking to?” he yells at her and he’s shaking her by her arms like a ragdoll. “Do you forget that you fucked me for three years before I was legal? I was there, Elena—I’m not some kid saying that you came on to him 17 years ago; I was there!” Oh, the shit is hitting the fan.
“Taylor, do something!” I urge. He lets me go and tries to get Christian’s attention.
“Sir,” he says, gently at Christian’s side.
“Christian! Christian, you’re hurting me!” Oh, good grief! That’s a little theatrical, but he really shouldn’t be shaking this woman.
“You knew what I had gone through!” He continues to yell at her and shake her. Taylor is not working nearly hard enough to make him stop. “You knew what my life was like! You knew about the nightmares!”
Nightmares? Christian had nightmares, too?
“You knew about the haphephobia!” Oh, good God! I knew there was a problem with touching his chest, but I didn’t know it was that serious.
“About my inability to forge relationships, my self-hatred, my drinking…” Holy cow, Batman. He was a really fucked-up kid.
“… You knew about it all, and you used it against me!” I really fucking hate her now.
“No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t! I gave you what you needed! Christian, please!” she cries. He can shake her fucking head off like a bobble-head for all I care… but for himself, he really needs to stop.
“CHRISTIAN STOP!” I yell as loud as I can. He freezes with She-Thing in his hands, cringing while he’s sneering at her. I walk over and stand next to Taylor. “Baby,” I say gently, “let her go.” She’s looking from me to him, and she’s truly terrified. You should be, Bitch. I wouldn’t care if he shook your fucking guts out, squeezed you until he popped your ass like a grape; but he needs to leave this situation with no regrets, so I’m going to make sure he lets your skankalicious ass go. “Baby, please,” I coo.
“Christian…” she whimpers. I turn my head to her and snap, “Shut. Up!” Be quiet, Bitch. Your voice is going to set him off again. He’s still sneering at her like he could kill her. I have to pull him out of this or he just might. “Don’t look at him,” I say to She-Thing.
“What the hell do you…” Christian’s nostrils flare at the sound of her voice and I start talking again.
“Shut! The fuck! Up! And don’t look at him! If you want! Him to let! You go!” I spit through clenched teeth. She looks at me wide-eyed and I guess I became her point of focus. “Don’t fucking look at me either!” I snap before I know it. She immediately drops her head. I turn back to Christian. I have to bring him out of this. He sees her as one of the people who victimized him—no longer as someone that used to be a friend and mentor. He could easily unleash every bit of the anguish and pain that he’s been carrying upon her right now and not feel a thing until she was a bloody pile of flesh on the floor before him. I can’t touch him; he might go completely off.
He’s so damn tall, but I have to get close to his ear. He’s breathing heavily and I know he’s slipping fast. I climb up onto the breakfast bar. I know Taylor may have gotten an eyeful of “Ana-ass” but right now, I’m concerned about my man. I lean in to him. “Come back to me, baby.” I say softly. “Come on back, baby.” I start to sing Love All The Hurt Away in his ear.
Baby, you are the thing that I hoped and I prayed for
You gave your love and I’m happy like never before
I see the veins in his neck slow their pulsing and his breathing starts to slow as well.
You be the strength and I’ll be your shoulder to lean on
Building a world and fill our whole place with our love song
His shoulders relax, and he’s releasing his grip on She-Thing’s arms. She’s got red handprints in her arms and I know they’re going to bruise. He’s starting to count and I keep singing.
‘Cause you and I were meant to be lovers
The search is over for us, there’s no other
We’re finally at the rainbow’s end
Baby, together we’ll mend all the cracks in our heart
And just love all the hurt away.
Elena slowly takes a few steps back and she watches me with utter disdain as I sing in his ear and he starts counting. Bitch, stop looking at me before I say sic ‘em and make him shake your ass again! Christian looks over his shoulder at me kneeling on the breakfast bar. The look on his face makes me stop singing—there is absolutely nothing there. He has put on his mask and you can’t see anything. He picks me up under my arms like I’m a rag doll and sets me gently on my feet.
“The only reason why I felt like this was what I needed is because you never gave me another option,” he says impassively to She-Thing. “Ana has. Ana is giving me a chance at a different type of life and damn it, I’m going to take it.” He walks pass me towards his study and then turns back around. “I don’t know how many other little boys you’ve fucked before or after me, but it’s disgusting. You disgust me Elena, and I want you to get the fuck out of my apartment.” He disappears down the hall. Taylor looks over at me and I nod to him. “Make sure he’s okay,” I say softly. Taylor nods and follows him down the hall. I turn my focus back to She-Thing.
“I think you should leave now,” I say, sternly.
“You can’t make me leave. You have no right!” she snaps indignantly.
“My man told you to leave, and now I am telling you to get the hell out of his apartment.” She just cackles at me. This woman has a death wish. “Are you deaf, stupid, or both?” I continue. She stops laughing, but she continues to smirk at me. “I just had to sing in that man’s ear to keep him from popping your ass like a damn grape! And you have the nerve to still stand here like you own the place?”
“I have more right to be here than you!” she snaps. “Christian and I have been friends for 14 years.”
“Oh, no,” I corrected her, “You may have been friends—if that’s what you call it—for 11 years, but you molested him for three. So, you can wrap it up in a bow and put whatever pretty little label on it that you like. What it comes down to is that you couldn’t handle a real man so instead you fucked a young teenage boy, you nasty ass pedophile criminal bitch. Now get your ass out of the apartment, or I will forcibly remove you!” I snap. She looks down at me laughing.
“You and what army?” she scoffs, folding her arms.
“No army, just me,” I retort. She waves me off with both hands, laughing again and sits on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
“I’m not going anywhere until Christian and I talk this out! I don’t know what you’ve said to him or what you’ve done to him, but you’re not getting rid of me that easily!” Oh well, I tried to warn her.
“Well, I tried. I’m not talking to you anymore,” I state.
“That’s fine, because I have nothing to say to you!” she spits.
“Good. We agree!” I anchor myself on the breakfast bar, hook my foot under the leg of the barstool and pull straight up, effectively pulling the stool right out from under her. The vinyl-clad Pedo-Bitch falls hard on her ass, her stiletto-clad feet flailing in the air before she even knows what happened. I sit the barstool behind me and wait for her to get up. She’s like a turtle on its back because her heels are too high to facilitate effectively standing up.
“How dare you put your hands on me!” she yelps.
“I haven’t put my hands on you yet—just the chair. Get up!” I taunt, in position for whatever the pedo-stank-hoe might throw at me. I didn’t know just how right I was. She stumbles to her feet a little wobbly—not sure why—swiftly picks up a nectarine out of the fruit bowl on the counter and throws it at me! I move just in time to catch it in my hand before it hit me!
“Oh, no, the fuck…” I launch it back at her before I even finish my sentence and the nectarine hit her square in the middle of the forehead. I didn’t think I hit her that hard, but she jerks back like she was just hit with a Mike Tyson punch. I figure some of that plastic surgery may be cracking. “You want to throw something else?” I ask still in position waiting for her to move. She’s pissed now.
“I will beat your little ass, you disrespectful bitch!” she screams. I turn around and pull up Christian’s shirt, showing her my bare ass.
“Here it is!” I said, waving it at her. That just pisses her off even worse.
“Eeeeeeeooooooowwwwww!” she growls before charging towards me. I just step out of her way, give her a little push and watch her keep going. She stumbles miserably and falls flat on her face.
“Ouch, that had to hurt,” I say, leaning against the breakfast bar. She’s moaning in a little more agony this time. When she turns around to face me, still on the floor, her face is bleeding all over the tile. Thank God, it’s not carpeted. “Eeeewww, Christian is not going to like that,” I say. “So, are you ready to go or do you want to keep this up?” She’s crying a bit now. I figure I might have destroyed some very expensive dental work. She scrambles to her feet as best as she can. She’s out of breath and she hasn’t really done anything yet—minus a little bit of amateur acrobatics. She retrieves a coat and a purse that I didn’t know she had brought with her from off of the sofa in the great room.
“You haven’t seen the last of me, you little bitch!” she snaps.
“Yeah, whatever. Say it while you’re walking out, you lower than life, stank trashy ass child fucker!”
What can you say after that? She opens the door and leaves.
I take a deep breath and let it out. This is certainly not my idea of a leisurely afternoon, damn it! I’m just about to go check on Christian when he and Taylor come out of another room near his study snickering at each other. I’m out here trying to get rid of the pedo-bitch and they’re in there having playtime. What the fuck? Christian must have seen the look on my face and let the cat out of the bag that most rooms except for the bedrooms and bathrooms in his penthouse are under 24-hour video surveillance. So basically, they’ve been sitting in this office watching the girl fight and oh my God, I showed Elena my ass. My eyes widen and I look from Taylor to Christian and back to Taylor.
“Don’t worry,” Christian began, “Taylor looked away when you bared your ass.” I. Am. Mortified! I could seriously crawl under a rock and die right now. I guess I can’t say anything to Christian about talking to Edward now, because this was one for the books.
“I tried to tell her to leave. She wouldn’t listen!” I whine.
“So, you thought you’d help her out a bit,” Christian say, still snickering. Taylor is trying to hide his mirth.
“You’re supposed to be a professional!” I point at Taylor.
“Yes, ma’am!” he snickers.
“Oh, to hell with both of you!” I throw my hands up and proceed to storm past the laughing men.
“Sir, Ms. Steele asked me to make sure you’re okay.” Taylor interrupts my thought process as he walks into the room. I swear, I wanted to kill that bitch. I really wanted to kill her. Thank fuck Ana was here! I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t take anymore of her lies! She’s such a fraud! My whole fucking life is a fraud! I separated myself from everything and everybody, including my family. All I had was work and subs…
Business comes naturally to me. I will always be Christian Grey, Billionaire CEO… but what about Christian Grey, the man? What happened to him? What have I got to show for myself? What will I have to show for myself when I’m gone, but a pile of money and a bunch of ex-subs? If I died tomorrow, who besides my family would show up at my funeral?
Fucking Elena Lincoln.
And several other businessmen who would love to dance on my grave.
Am I okay?
“Fuck, no, I’m not okay! I want to hurt somebody, and I want to hurt them badly!” I put my hands on the back of a chair that’s only vaguely familiar to me. “I would have hurt her, Taylor. If Ana wasn’t here, I would have fucked her up.”
“I know, sir,” Taylor says, flatly.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” I snap.
“I tried, sir,” he begins, “but I’ve seen that look before, in combat situations. If I had touched you, you would have snapped her arm. I tried to talk to you, but you didn’t hear me. You only responded to Ms. Steele… and even then, not immediately.” Yes. She was singing that song… that song I heard her humming this morning… the healing song. She brought me back; she brought me back from hell. She’s the one—the one to save me.
The only thing that can make this right at this point is Ana. I’m now a little more aware of my surroundings. “This is not my study.”
“No, sir, it’s my office,” Taylor says.
“Where’s An…?” I‘m broken from my thought when I see the great room on one of the monitors and Elena towering over Ana, still clad in just my shirt. “Hit the sound to the great room,” I say to Taylor. He gives us sound just in time for us to see Ana snatch the barstool from under Elena, who subsequently slams smack on her ass on the hard marble floor! Taylor and I both have to cover our mouths to keep from howling. Elena recovers and throws something across the room at Ana. My Butterfly spits some expletives and hurls it right back at her. SPLAT! Spot on—right in the face. “Give up, Elena, give up!” I say between bursts of laughter.
“Should I go help her, sir?” Taylor asks, a bit confused.
“Which one?” I’m still laughing. Taylor just shrugs and looks at the screen. I turn around just in time to see my Butterfly’s sweet bare ass waving Full Monty at Elena.
“Did she just…?” I gasp.
“Yes, sir. She did!” Taylor says, quite loudly. I snap my head over at him and he’s looking conspicuously way off to the left somewhere. I turn back to the screen and Elena looks as if she’s about to charge Ana.
“Okay! Okay! You’ve gotta look, you’re gonna miss it!” I say to Taylor. He scurries over to his desk to see the screen. I’ve seen what this woman can do. I know Elena is in way over her head. I just want to know what’s going to happen next. Hell, I couldn’t kill her; Butterfly might as well have some fun. Sure enough, Elena gets a running start—which looks pretty damn funny in those stilettos, by the way—and launches herself at Butterfly, who delicately steps to the side, pushes Elena as she’s going by and lets inertia do the rest. When that woman goes sprawling across the floor, Taylor and I are clutching each other, burying our faces in each other’s shoulders in an attempt to keep the laughter from escaping the office. Butterfly just stands there. She’s saying something to Elena, but I can’t hear her because I’m laughing too hard. Taylor and I manage to compose ourselves as we watch Elena and Ana have one last exchange of words before Elena finally decides that now would probably be a good time to leave. When we leave the office, we have to work hard to contain our laughter. Except for a slight case of JBF hair, Ana is calm, cool, and collected like nothing at all just happened, but she is a tad bit confused by our laughter.
“Um, Baby?” I say, my voice full of mirth. “There are 360-cameras and mics all over this apartment.” Her face registers confusion, then anger, then acknowledgement, then shame in the span of about five seconds. It’s so cute. “Don’t worry. Taylor looked away when you bared your ass.” My poor Butterfly turns fifty shades of pink at that moment.
“I tried to tell her to leave. She wouldn’t listen!” she explains.
“So, you thought you’d help her out a bit.” I try to hide my amusement, but it’s no use. Taylor is just as unsuccessful.
“You’re supposed to be a professional!” she snaps at Taylor.
“Yes, ma’am!” he giggles—still no luck.
“Oh, to hell with both of you!” Now she’s pouting. I catch her around her waist just as she’s trying to walk pass me.
“Hold on, hold on.” I try to soothe her aching ego. “We’re not laughing at you, baby. We’re laughing with you.” She folds her arms.
“That’s interesting, Mr. Grey, because I’m not laughing!” she spits.
“I don’t know why not!” I laugh. “I thought I was going to die when she fell on her ass!” Taylor has lost his composure. A slightly comical look of realization comes over her face at that moment.
“Did you see her face when I hit her with the nectarine?” she says, just above a whisper like it was a secret. Taylor and I erupt into sputtering laughter.
“Is th... that what… that was?” I can hardly speak.
“Hey, she threw it at me first,” she defends. “I told her to leave, she wouldn’t. ‘Christian and I are going to talk this out. We’ve been friends for years.’” She says in a perfect Elena impression. “She sat down, I didn’t invite her to take a seat, so I took it back!”
“I’ll say!” Taylor is snickering again.
“When she scampered her ass off the floor, she offered me some fruit and I returned the gesture.” I’m going to die if she doesn’t stop with this description. “When she came charging at me, I stepped out of the way and she took a 10-point fall.” Taylor and I are coughing now.
“Stop! Please stop!” I beg through my tears of laughter. “I can’t take anymore.” When I’m able to compose myself a bit, I say, “I only have one question. Why did you show her your ass?”
“Oh, that,” she says kind of matter-of-factly. “She told me she would kick my little ass, so I showed it to her and said, ‘here it is!'” And the laughter begins again.
“Hey!” she says, looking a bit shocked and nervous. “That’s not going to end up on YouTube or anything, is it?” I am losing air. She must stop now. Towards the kitchen we hear someone clear their throat. We are all a bit sobered by a not-so-happy Mrs. Jones standing there looking at us all like errant children. She looks from Ana—taking in her attire very carefully—then to Taylor, then to me, then back at Taylor.
“Jason?” she says, expecting. I’m sure she has no idea what to make of this situation. Her boyfriend and her boss standing in the great room, laughing hysterically with a half-naked girl. Ana’s expression doesn’t seem too pleased either, so I guess I had better throw some water on these two fireballs.
“Who’s Jason?” Ana asks before I can begin introductions. I point to Taylor.
“That would be me, ma’am,” Taylor says solemnly.
“Oh!” She says, pointing at him. “I thought your name was Taylor.”
“That’s my last name,” he replies, still looking at Gail. Okay, okay…
“Mrs. Jones, this is Anastasia Steele… Dr. Anastasia Steele,” I say, before she has a chance to glare at me.
“Dr. Steele,” Mrs. Jones greets politely.
“How do you do?” Ana responds.
“Baby, this is Gail Jones, my housekeeper… and Taylor’s girlfriend.” A myriad of emotions come over her face, ending with her cringing behind me trying to pull her… my shirt down over her knees and saying, “Oh, shoot me, shoot me now!” I pull her back out into the open and she is covering her face. Poor little Butterfly. The whole house—and Elena—has seen you pretty much skivvieless! Take a bow… on second thought, don’t!
“I’m going to let you explain this to Gail…” I say to Taylor, who looks at me horrified.
“Christian…” Ana’s trying to scold me, I can hear it in her voice. I put my hands on her shoulders.
“… While I take my girl to go find some bottoms,” I finish, pushing Ana towards the bedroom. She lets me lead her at first. Then she does some kind of NBA fake-out move out of my hands and dashes over to Mrs. Jones. No wonder Luc was calling her “Tiger.” She has reflexes like a damn cat!
“Mrs. Jones, I am so sorry,” she begins to a bewildered Gail. “Christian and I were enjoying our afternoon when She-Th… er, Elena Lincoln showed up unannounced and things just got… out of hand.”
“I’ll say they did,” Taylor interjects. Mrs. Jones glared at him. He shrugs and points at the blood on the floor. “Mrs. Lincoln’s,” he explained to Gail. Ana looks like she has a three-second seizure.
“Holy cow! She’s married?” Ana exclaims.
“Divorced,” I elaborate.
“Lucky guy! Dodged a bullet!” Ana shoots. Mrs. Jones smirks a bit.
“I like her already,” Gail says. Ana sighs heavily and turns her attention back to Gail.
“Mrs. Jones, I assure you it is not my practice to prance around…” she looks down at her lack of clothing, “… half naked in front of any man but my own. These were extreme circumstances, and I promise you that I will be more careful in the future. Please accept my apology.” She’s very sweet. I personally wouldn’t give a shit what my staff thought about the women who come to my apartment and neither would any of my previous subs, but Ana is different.
She’s not most women.
She’s certainly not a sub.
She’s my Butterfly, and she cares that Gail doesn’t get the wrong idea about her. I walk over to her and put my arms around her waist.
“Mrs. Jones, Ana and I are seeing each other. She’s going to be around a lot more often and not just weekends… I hope.” That last part was for Ana. She looks back at me with those beautiful blue eyes.
“Not just weekends,” she says sweetly, smiling delicately at me. When we look back at Mrs. Jones, her face is beaming at us. I have no idea why, but I think we’ve saved Taylor from the third degree and a very rough evening.
“Well, the threat has been abated, thanks to the wildcat here, so why don’t you and Taylor go back and enjoy the rest of your afternoon?”
“Thank you, sir,” Taylor says.
“I should clean this up first,” Mrs. Jones says, referring to Elena’s blood offering. Ana darts out of my grasp again.
“Please, Mrs. Jones. I’ll do it. It’s… kind of my fault anyway,” Ana protests. Mrs. Jones smiles at her.
“You will do no such thing. This is what I get paid for and I’ll take care of it. You and Mr. Grey go enjoy your afternoon. This will only take me a moment.” Ana is still hesitant.
“If you’re sure…” she says, not moving to leave.
“Of course, I’m sure, Dr. Steele.” She smiles.
“Ana, please.” Mrs. Jones looks at me, then back at my Butterfly. “Everybody calls me Ana. Even my patients call me Ana… except for Taylor, who insists on calling me ‘ma’am’ which makes me feel 90-years-old, and this one,” she says, pointing at me, “who insists on calling me Ms. Steele and I know why he does that… I’m babbling. Long story short, please call me Ana.” Mrs. Jones is snickering now.
“Ana, it is,” she says with a laugh.
“Come on, Ana,” I say taking her hand, stressing her name. “Let’s leave Mrs. Jones to it now.” I drag her back to my bedroom.
A/N: Christian makes a reference to Body Snatchers when he and Elena were talking. In a 1964 film (remake in 1978) called Invasion of the Body Snatchers, aliens landed in California and proceeded to take over the town by “snatching” earthlings in their sleep and replacing them with clones grown from pods who are devoid of emotion and nothing like the people they’re replacing except for physical appearance. So, Christian likens Elena’s questioning and confused gaze at his obvious change in attitude towards her to Christian being taken and replaced by one of the Pod People.
Better than trying to explain the phrase Full Monty, it’s better to just lead you here:
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Love and Handcuffs!