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This is a work or creativity. As such, you may see words, concepts, scenes, actions, behaviors, pictures, implements, and people that may or may not be socially acceptable and/or offensive. If you are sensitive to adverse and alternative subject matter of any kind, please do not proceed, because I guarantee you’ll find it here. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.
Explicit details of sex and BDSM scenes from here on out. Some may be hot while others may not be to your taste… and not necessarily CG with Ana together. Proceed at your own discretion, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.
It’s December and it’s that time of year again. Time for the Policemen’s Ball!
No, not really.
But is it time for the Annual Public Service and Civic Leaders Community Fundraiser that calls my name during this time of year. I had missed it for so many years while I was in college and again while I was in Georgia, but vowed not to miss it again once I returned to Seattle. It makes me feel so close to Daddy. I only have two pictures of my father—the ones that I managed to take with my phone of the photo of him and Mommy on their headstone. They’re interred in adjoining plots and they share a grave marker—an impressive polished granite creation with three photos laser engraved into it… one of Mommy graduating from college; one of Daddy in his dress uniform and hat; and one of them both together. I have all three pictures framed and on my mantle in the parlor.
So now, as I fasten Trey’s emerald earrings on my ears and admire my elaborate up-do and elegant green evening gown, I miss my Mommy and Daddy so much that I can hardly breathe. I always look flawless going to this affair… always write a check so large that I could probably eradicate the problem on my own, which is why the organizers are always kissing my ass when I walk through the door. When I mentioned earlier that I would be bringing a “plus one” to the affair and that said “plus one” would be my bodyguard, Jean Miguel nearly had a coronary, guaranteeing my safety at the event. I couldn’t reveal to him that Elena, whom I already knew was on the guest list, was the person from whom I would need protecting. It’s not that I’m afraid of her. I just can’t spend the entire evening watching my back.
“Anastasia,” he said, emphasizing the Russian pronunciation of my name in his thick accent, “We will all be here for a worthy cause. There will be no ruffians among us. The idea that you feel you must bring protection…” He made that impatient noise into the phone, snapping his tongue against the top of his mouth.
“Look at it this way, Jean,” I coaxed, “you will have another guest at your $2500/plate affair and I promise you that he is the picture of poise and professionalism. He’s not one of those meatheads you see on television standing behind some mafia don trying to look important. As far as anyone will know, he will be just another benefactor to the ball… and unfortunately, current developments make his presence utterly necessary.” I heard dear Jean Miguel utter something in his native tongue.
“Very well, Anastasia, only for you, my dear…”
“You look stunning, Mistress.”
I raise my gaze to the doorway to see Blake standing there just inside the threshold of my bedroom gazing proudly at me. I smile at him and stand from my vanity.
“I wish you would change your mind and come with me,” I say, trying once more to cajole him to join me. “You look so handsome in a tux and it would be so easy to get a seat for you.” He smiles sadly at me and shakes his head.
“You know I don’t do well with crowds… or alcohol,” he says, sadly. I nod and look down at his clasped hands. Blake is always dressed impeccably and today is no different. I take his clasped hands in mine and sigh deeply.
“You have no idea how dear you are to me,” I say softly, without raising my head.
“As dear as you are to me,” he says, his voice reverent. He touches the necklace Trey gave me draped around my neck.
“He’s very fond of you,” he says, that same sadness in his voice that I heard before.
“They’re all fond of me, Blake. None of them mean to me what you mean to me.” I touch his cheek. He shakes his head.
“I can never be everything that you need, Mistress,” he says.
“I know.” I want to cry. He’s talking about leaving me again. He’s the only person I can’t see leaving me, like my father… but… different… much, much different. “I know, but…”
“Until that day…” He brings both my hands to his lips and kisses them gently, paying close attention to the large emerald cocktail ring on my right hand. “Which wrap, Mistress?” he says softly. I sigh.
“The gray Alexander McQueen wool,” I say. He kisses my hand again and leaves. I watch him walk out of the room and down the hall. I don’t have anyone that I call “friend” right now. Maybe Kevin, he’s trying to be my friend… maybe. But Blake… Blake is truly my friend. He’s my confidante, my companion in every way. I trust him with everything, with all my deepest, darkest secrets. If he ever wants to stop being my submissive, I would simply find a way to keep him in my life as my friend. I’m certain that I won’t survive without him. I’d never tell anyone, but he’s my one weak spot right now.
I fight off the tears that threaten to fall and do a quick meditation to re-center myself before I take the stairs down to the great room. Jesse should be here any minute and I’ve arranged for my driver and car as well. I don’t like being late, so I know that everyone will be precise. Blake comes around the corner with my coat and clutch and just as I’m buttoning it, there’s a knock at the door. Blake goes to open it and there’s Jesse. Just as he’s about to step inside, the Town Car is driving up to the front gate. No need to step inside…
The ballroom is stunning, decorated in blues and silvers for the occasion with festive trees and holiday décor tastefully accenting the occasion colors. I don’t think Jesse has ever attended the ball with me, so I go about telling him the purpose of the fundraiser and where the proceeds will be distributed… and why this cause is so important to me.
Civil servants, members of public service and of course, civic leaders all come together during this fundraiser to support specific community projects, charities, and outreaches right here in our area. The massive amounts of funds collected at this event don’t go to the United Way or the Salvation Army or any other large conglomerate. Although those are worthy causes, their resources are spread nationally among a great amount of need and you may never see where your funds are being put to use. The donations collected here tonight will be distributed among projects and programs for at-risk communities right here in the greater Seattle area, to help struggling kids like me.
I didn’t know how to take advantage of any of the resources available to me through the programs funded by donations from fundraisers like this when I needed them. Yet, I make it a point to try to be as active as possible in at-risk communities to get the word out to families and even to runaways, foster children, emancipated minors, children in abusive situations, teenage mothers, children of strung-out parents taking care of younger siblings—anyone anywhere who needs to know that they are not alone. It’s not always as easy as showing up at a shelter and saying, “I need help.” Sometimes, you may find yourself jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Some of these kids—these families—just need to get to tomorrow. God knows I did.
I sip champagne and give Jesse a basic briefing on the lay of the land—where the restrooms are in case he didn’t know, and where the cheating husbands will most likely be sneaking away to get a piece of ass with their mistresses while their wives are rubbing noses some old money somewhere. I get several compliments on my dress—green flowing chiffon with a small train, lace bodice with beaded appliques covering the front breast and outlining the back, nude tulle revealing a modest cleavage and a fully open back. My hair is off my face and cascading down my back to showcase Trey’s gold necklace and emerald earrings.
Along with the compliments come several lascivious glances from unscrupulous men who clearly have wives or dates on their arms. Their gazes change quickly when they spy my hand tucked into Jesse’s elbow, unaware of the nature of our relationship.
“There are some real vultures in here, huh?” Jesse says, his voice peppered with distaste. I raise my gaze to him.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I inform him and take another sip of my champagne. I hear someone clear their throat behind me and turn around to be greeted by the green eyes and dark hair of a very handsome and distinguished slightly older gentleman.
“Has someone else stolen your attentions away from me, my lady?” the gentleman gests.
“Only as a companion for the evening, sir,” I respond. “This is Jesse, my escort and CPO.” The Senator raises his eyebrow and proffers his hand to my bodyguard. “Jesse, this is…”
“Earnhart. Senator Van Earnhart. Yes, a true pleasure, sir.” Jesse graciously takes the Senator’s extended hand. “You championed the education bill last spring. That was a very important referendum for our community. I paid close attention to its progress. I was really impressed with how you stayed on top of it.” The Senator beams a bit and nods.
“It’s always good to be recognized for some of the good that I try to do in my community and for the state,” he admits. “There’s always some kind of corruption going on and someone can usually pinpoint something that we said or did wrong. Granted, we’re not perfect—we’re human, but we’re not all thieves and liars.”
“I completely agree, sir. You and Selena Redford make a remarkable case for the reform of the Battery District.”
“The Battery District! Now there’s a topic I wish people would understand more clearly. It’s not getting nearly enough exposure…”
And off they go. I had no idea that my bodyguard was so well-versed on the topic of civil and current events in relation to local politics, but he and the Senator are giving me quite the education at the moment. As I sip my champagne and listen attentively to their riveting exchange, my attention is drawn to a shock of red in my peripheral. I turn to focus on the blurb coming more into focus and notice a sultry red dress way too provocative for this affair begin to take shape wrapped around one freshly-dyed Elena Lincoln.
And I do mean freshly dyed!
Her hair is even more yellow than usual, or maybe it’s just that I haven’t seen her in a while and just became accustomed to how yellow it really was while more frequently in her presence. What’s even weirder to me is the man who is accompanying her into the affair. She’s hanging on his arm like a cheap bracelet and his bottle job seems even more counterfeit than hers. In all fairness, I can’t say for certain that it’s a bottle job. I can only attest that his hair is a flaxen platinum and one can only hope that hue came from a salon, because if he was cursed with that hair color, God help him!
I study him for a moment and take notice of his eerie ice-blue eyes—transparent. He can hide nothing. You can see right through him. His skin is pale—like sour milk. He could never have a poker face. And the expressions on his and his dime-store escort’s face is proof that I’m correct as even now while they approach, they each glare at me like the cat who caught the canary. Whatever little secret they thought they were keeping is written all over their faces, and I suddenly feel dirty.
“What’s wrong?” Jesse says, drawing my attention from the approaching enemy.
“Twelve o’clock,” I say, never breaking my gaze from Cruella and Lestat, more annoyed than shaken. Jesse raises his head and follows my gaze. Noticing Elena and her date sauntering in our direction, He immediately changes position with me so that they will encounter him first. This draws the attention of the Senator, who turns his attention to the approaching couple and furrows his brow at Elena in distaste.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Mr. Platinum addresses Jesse and the Senator, deliberately failing to address me, and I immediately know that his whore date has given him some kind of insight or opinion on who I am. Jesse and the Senator only nod. Neither of them afford him the courtesy of a greeting.
I smirk and take a sip of my champagne. So, that’s how you want to play this, you washed up, sideshow, circus freak? Some people just don’t know when to quit. This should be interesting.
Icy Eyes extends a hand to Jesse. “I’m Caldwell Lincoln, Lincoln Timber,” he says. Jesse looks at his hand and I nearly choke as the penny drops. Caldwell Lincoln! Blondie’s husband! Get the fuck outta here! Where has he been all this time?
“Jesse,” my bodyguard says, gripping his extended hand. “Just Jesse.”
Now, I don’t know much about pissing contests—male pissing contests, that is—but I do know that my CPO is no wimp. I’ve watched him in a fight or three and he’s barely broken a sweat. So, I would say that platinum haired, ice-blue-eyed devil should probably let go of Jesse’s hand if he wants all that blood to leave his face and go back to his extremities.
“Release,” I say to Jesse, mocking chastisement.
“I will if he will,” Jesse says calmly. The Senator scoffs to hide a laugh and I just glare at Mr. Lincoln.
“Would you like to retain the use of that hand, sir?” I ask the now crimson Caldwell Lincoln. Apparently, he must have gotten the message and releases his grip, because a few seconds later, the pissing contest ceases, and Jesse calmly clasps his hands in front of him while Lincoln flexes his fingers trying to get some blood circulating from his reddened checks back to his digits while his wife looks on in concern. He turns to his wife and they appear to go into a huddle over his crushed hand.
“Why did you do that?” I whisper to Jesse, appalled and amused at the same time.
“What?” he asks innocently.
“You make such a great impression on the Senator and then you do that?” I scold.
“He started it,” Jesse defends with a shrug. I shake my head and hide a smirk.
“Jesse…” I chide gently.
“Hey, my momma always said don’t go pissing in a pond if you’re not willing to deal with the local fish.”
“Hear, hear,” the Senator says, his voice barely audible.
“Don’t encourage him!” I whisper.
“So,” Lincoln’s voice barrels over everyone else’s, garnering our attention once more, “is anyone going to introduce me to our female guest?”
He is such a fucking asshole. He’s talking to my back right now and my eyes are narrowed slits as I glare at Jesse. There are so many implications in that one statement, and his sneering wife just picked up on all of them. As I’m turning to let loose on this presumptuous fucker, I catch glimpse of her and she’s pretending not to pay me any attention. However, being the consummate gentleman, the Senator tries to diffuse the situation.
“Linc, this is Attorney Anastasia Olivet,” the Senator says, introducing me with the same formality that Linc introduced himself, but it doesn’t matter. It was just the opening he needed. Linc already knows who I am. He just wants me to know that he knows who I am.
“Ah,” he says, knowingly, raising his eyebrows like he’s made some new discovery. “I hear you’re Christian Grey’s new piece of ass.” he adds snidely.
Don’t react. Don’t fucking react. That’s what he wants. That’s what she wants. I turn slowly and glare at him, not failing to catch Elena’s smug smile as she hangs on his arm.
“I’m nobody’s piece of anything, old man,” I say, my voice low and controlled. “First of all, there are no rings on my wedding finger. Second, my name is Olivet, not Grey. Third, and most important, unless you and your wife want a libel and a slander suit from one of the most powerful men in the state and a blood-thirsty shark attorney who would just love to drag you down, suck you dry, then chew you up, spit you out and leave you for dead, you should probably stop flapping that tongue and roll it back up into that big trap of yours before you slip and fall into a hole you can’t get out of! And that’s before I unleash connections upon you that you really don’t want to meet. So, since it’s clear that you have no idea who you’re really dealing with, I suggest you back away slowly and get the fuck away from me… sir.”
At first, he doesn’t break his icy gaze with me, but then, I see his eyes shift to my right. In my peripheral, I can see the Senator gesturing for him to shoo, a subtle shake of his head indicating, “You want none of this.” He turns his attention back to me nonetheless.
“Pretty talk for a woman in public,” he chides.
“Didn’t she tell you?” I say, gesturing to Blondie. “I ain’t your average woman. I’m a beast!” I make a vicious biting gesture, my teeth clicking together loudly and causing Linc to jump a bit before I turn my gaze to Elena.
“Ana… green, interesting. The color of gangrene…” she says, smoothing her yellow-blonde hair.
“Elena… red. Fitting. The color of harlots.” She glares at me. “What happened, dear? Wrong turn on your way to the Player’s Ball?”
“Do you really want to play that game with me?” she snarls.
“Do you?” I nearly hiss, and I can see her deflate a bit.
“That’s no way to speak to a lady,” Linc warns.
“How would you know?” I retort, turning my glare to him and he, like his wife, deflates as well. “You haven’t told him, Blondie? How we know each other? Why you seem to know so much about me?” I turn my gaze back to Elena, whose face is now draining of all its color. “You don’t look well, dear. What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice not showing the slightest hint of concern. “Are you choking on that canary?”
“Did it just get chilly in here?” the Senator says, breaking the banter between me and the Lincolns. “Come, counselor. I think I’d like to introduce you to the governor.”
“We’ve met,” I say, glaring at Blondie, “but I think I’d prefer her company to the present.” I roll my eyes at her, cutting an angry glare at Linc before allowing the Senator to lead me away from the Lincolns with Jesse falling in step behind us.
“Do I even want to know what that was about?” he whispers to me as I take a deep breath or two to compose myself.
“You know Elena’s demise is all over the news,” I say, leaning into him. “She’s trying to pin that on anybody that she can. I only just learned about a week or so ago that I was one of her most recent targets.”
“What about Linc?” he presses. “What’s he talking about?”
“I have no idea. This is my first time meeting the man and if I never see him again, it’ll be too soon for me.” I take a fresh glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter replacing it with my empty glass. “Does he have that effect on everyone he meets?”
“I’m afraid so,” the Senator says, “particularly Christian Grey. There’s bad blood between them—something about a hostile takeover of some of Lincoln’s subsidiaries a couple of years ago. Is that why he’s linking you with Grey?”
“Well…” I look over at Elena and wait for her to lock gazes with me before leaning into the Senator again and covering my mouth conspiratorially, “I’m sure you remember the speculation a few months ago or so when she attacked Grey at his office.”
“Yes, I remember hearing something about it,” he confirms.
“Once again, I only just heard about that, and again, only because she’s trying to link me in with whatever led to that attack. I’ve got my people looking into it and the threats I’ve received are the reason I have a bodyguard.” He raises his eyebrow.
“Should we be concerned?” he asks, and I know what he’s referring to. I glance at Elena again. Yes, bitch, we’re talking about you.
“Us, no. Her? Probably so. I would obliterate that woman before I allow her to touch anything I hold dear.” I turn back to the Senator.
“Do you need anything?” He asks. I place my hand on his chest.
“I’ll let you know if I do,” I inform him. He sips his wine.
“Grey,” he says, “was Linc right about him?” I raise an eyebrow at the Senator.
“Senator,” I say with a soft, warning tone, “you know as well as I do that denial is the same as confirmation, and that I can’t tell you if there is or isn’t any truth to what Linc said about Mr. Grey, now don’t you?” He pauses for a moment before answering.
“Of course, Mistress,” he whispers, the corner of his mouth rising in a slight smile as he tucks my hand further into the bend of his elbow and we proceed over to the governor and her husband.
Over twenty years later, people still remember my father—what a stand-up guy he was and how much he loved my mother. They always tell me about how much he spoke of me and how proud of me he would have been; how there aren’t many people on the force like him and how much they still miss him. Some of the younger officers even greet me with stories they’ve heard about him, some of which have been ghastly exaggerated over the years, but you know how urban legends go. That’s what Daddy is and always will be… a legend.
There are, of course, a few here and there who have the “He wasn’t all that” syndrome, and I just try to ignore them. My daddy was all that and more, and if you don’t agree, then you didn’t know him and I feel sorry for you. Your life is lacking that much more for having missed out on the pleasure of his acquaintance.
Every so often, I catch a glimpse of the whore and her transparent pimp somewhere nearby as I work my way around the room. I’m already acquainted with many of the officials and elite in attendance. However, I network nonetheless to make myself known to those who don’t know of me, graciously accepting introductions initiated by the Senator and governor and handing out as well as accepting business cards. While none of us will openly admit it, these expensive fundraisers often double as high-end networking affairs, and none of us attend without at least fifty business cards tucked into a clutch or stylish holder.
As the evening presses forward, I need a moment to clear my head from Seattle’s crème de la crème, so I excuse myself from the Senator and some CEO’s babbling wife and head for the coat check. After retrieving my coat, I steal away to the smokers’ balcony with the other party outcasts. I’m not a smoker, but I find that when I need a moment alone at the very high-end social events that don’t have humidors, this is the place to be. I take a deep breath and welcome the chilly night air and the silence. There aren’t many people out here and the cigarette smoke never bothered me.
Being flooded with memories and stories of my father, however…
It’s nights like these and this time of year that I miss Mommy and Daddy so much that it seems like my chest is going to explode. I’ve waited for two decades for the ache to become easier to bear; for the loss to not feel so new; for me to not feel like that same little girl who cried myself to sleep night after night unable to accept that my parents were never coming back. I’ve all but forgotten the touch of my Mom’s hands. I remember that they were soft, so soft that there was nothing else like them… but I can’t remember how they felt. I remember Dad’s words—the things he said to me and the secrets we shared—but it’s hard to remember his voice. Every day, they fade away a little bit more, but not the pain… not the ache of losing them, of growing up without them, of not having them next to me, of not having what they had…
What they had…
Do I even want what they had? I mean, granted, they shared a love that was beautiful and treasured, but does lightening really strike twice? Could something like that even happen to me? I’d have to find a man exactly like my father, and then I’d have to be exactly like my mother, which I’m not. My mother was strong and beautiful, independent in her own way, but she was more docile than I’m ever willing to be. No man alive will ever be willing to be my lifelong companion and allow me to be the dominant.
This is the first time I’ve ever thought about my future in that way. This is the first time I’ve ever considered what I would do for companionship when I’m sixty. Looking at Elena and Linc, I sure as hell don’t want that shit! And I definitely won’t be wielding a crop in my golden years.
Golden years—how ironic.
I can’t help but wonder what really brought this on. Yes, I’m certain that thinking about Mommy and Daddy had something to do with it. The farce that is the Lincolns could have contributed to it, but I think the biggest catalyst might have been Blake. He’s part of me and has been for quite some time now. There’s no romantic connection, but… there’s a cellular connection between us. He has to know that. He can’t just up and walk away from me. As much as I hate to admit it, I would be devastated.
Deciding that I’ve been away from the party long enough and feeling like I’m fortified enough to tolerate human company once more, I turn to head back into ballroom when what to my wondering eyes do appear, but a pale white specter at the end of an amber glowing fire stick emerging from the shadows. I have no intention of engaging this varmint in one-on-one conversation, so I proceed past him towards the entrance. He coolly steps in front of me, blocking my advancement.
Does he have a death wish?
“Excuse you,” I say, turning a frosty glare to him.
“I think the term you’re looking for is ‘Excuse me,’” he corrects.
“That’s what I said, ‘Excuse you,’” I repeat coolly. He scoffs.
“I see Grey hasn’t trained his woman yet,” he comments, taking another drag of his cigarette. I plant my feet and fold my arms. Now, it’s time to engage.
“I realize that you’re advanced in age, but I had no idea that you were also hearing impaired.” His icy blue eyes pierce at me, but I just continue. “I. Am not. Christian Grey’s woman. You have twice referred to me as such in public and each time, it was in a very unflattering manner. The first time…” I place a long finger in his face. “… You referred to me as his piece of ass in front of a United States senator and a gentleman you don’t even know. Now, you refer to me as his woman not yet trained in front of a balcony full of strangers. I have no idea how Christian Grey represents himself in intimate relationships, but your description of him is repulsive and you have twice associated me with him in that manner thus far in a forum filled with affluent dignitaries, civil and public servants, and many of my friends and colleagues! You might want to adjust the volume on your hearing aid because you’re going to want to hear this!”
My words are sharp and his eyes narrow. I think I’ve portrayed appalled enough to be convincing.
“You have just one more time—one more time—to publicly associate me with that man on a romantic level without indisputable proof that can stand up in a court of law and I will take swift and immediate legal action legal action against you for defamation of character, sir. I will be the first party in the King County Courthouse Monday morning and that summons will be on your desk before the ink is dry. By the time I’ve completed discovery, examining witnesses at this party that have heard you and your Jessica-Rabbit-Wannabe wife making comments and innuendo about me and Christian Grey, I’ll have enough evidence for slander and defamation to make it look like you persecuted Mother Theresa. I will hit you so hard for punitive damages, they will be levying your estate once you’re dead for the value of the bronze on the handles of your casket before they lower your ass into the ground, Mr. Lincoln!”
I stand there and square off with him, my leather-bound fists clenched at my hips. His expression changes to stone as he takes a final drag from his cigarette and rudely tosses it away from him instead of using one of the ashtrays provided to extinguish it. I ignore his gesture. Stupid is as stupid does.
“My wife must have been mistaken,” he says, in a low voice, something else hiding behind his tone. “She convinced me that you were involved with Grey.” This conversation is irritating me, and I’m still nowhere near the door. This dress is cute as is this coat, but neither is very warm.
“I’m certain that I’m not interested in you and your wife’s pillow talk, sir,” I say with distaste. I quickly run through my conversation with Elena about mine and Trey’s arrangement and I know that I never mentioned his name and neither did she. We only called him by his alias. So, if this goes to court, she would have to out herself completely along with quite possibly twenty to thirty-five percent of upper Washington society to prove that I told her I had any kind of relationship with Christian Grey. That would suicide on nearly every level.
“Oh, trust me,” he scoffs, “it wasn’t pillow talk.” He takes another cigarette from his case. “Well, not for her and me, anyway.” I frown. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I shake my head. I’ve made my point, so once again, I try to proceed around him, but he cuts me off again.
“What’s your hurry?” he asks, his voice softer than before. I glare at him.
“I want to go back inside. It’s cold out here!” I hiss. “Now excuse me.”
“Now, that’s more like it,” he says, a smile snaking across his face. “I’ll have to deal with my dear wife for deliberately misleading me. So, you and Grey are not a thing?” He puts the unlit cigarette between his lips and it turns my stomach.
“No. We are not!” I say crisply. “Now, may I please pass?” I. Am getting. Pissed. And my fingers and toes are starting to get a little numb.
“In a minute,” he says. “You and the senator? Are you a thing?” I gawk at him.
“How is that any of your…” And then it hits me. Like a goddamn ton of bricks, it hits me. This sneaky, slimy, slithering, snaky, sonofabitch wants me for himself! That cow must’ve said something about me before they arrived. She had to! And between the time he and Blondie got here and saw me and the time he made the statement about me being Trey’s new piece of ass, she had to dissuade him from coming on to me. There was no other reason or opportunity for them to talk about me, especially in relation to Trey.
She was trying to head him off, so she threw Trey in the mix, and I just took Trey out. So, now the dog is sniffing again.
Fuck. I should have let the sleeping dog lie. Well, the fuck if I’m going to let this hound sniff up my skirt!
“You’re kidding, right?” I say, trying not to break out in mocking laughter. “You? You must be kidding?”
“What’s so wrong with me?” he asks, trying to hide his offense.
“You mean besides that fact that you’re married, and your wife is here with you hanging on your arm, looking and acting like a hired escort and you’re condoning that behavior? Notwithstanding the lack of chemistry, interest, or physical attraction, you’re repulsive and your personality is offensive.” He glares at me with those transparent eyes and that stupid cancer stick hanging out of his mouth. To each his own, but to me…
“And that’s a very nasty habit,” I add as he lights his cigarette. He takes a long drag.
“And yet, you’re out here,” he says, then proceeds to blow a long breath of smoke directly in my face. Once I’ve recovered from the coughing fit, the night air resonates with the sound of my hand connecting squarely with his smug face. How dare he blow those toxins directly down my throat! His expression turns murderous and he immediately and violently grabs my wrist. The moment his hand makes contact with my skin, his face contorts into a grimacing pain mask. I hear gasping behind me and realize that we have the attention of the other guests who have come outside to smoke.
“Go get hotel security!” I beckon to them and one of them extinguishes his cigarette and hurries back into the ballroom while the others look on at the unfolding spectacle. The next thing I hear is the menacing growl of my bodyguard.
“You might want to let that go.”
While Linc has a semi-firm grip on my wrist, Jesse has some kind of Spock Vulcan Death Pinch or something on Linc’s neck or shoulder, only Linc’s not dropping. He’s just standing there contorted and can’t move. His mouth is hanging open and no steam is coming from his lips even in this frigid night air, so he’s obviously holding his breath… and still not releasing my arm.
“I can stand here as long as you can, asshole, only I’m not in pain,” Jesse warns, and I can only assume than he intensifies his pinch because Linc releases a sound akin to teeth grinding from his throat and quickly opens his hand, releasing my wrist. I’m no worse for wear, but Linc is still somewhat suspended in this horror-face nerve-pinch-pose.
“Now, listen to me carefully. What you did—blowing smoke directly in her face like that—that shows intent. So, that’s actually assault and battery, my friend. However, since she literally slapped the taste out of your mouth, we’re going to call it even. You grabbing her wrist, though, that put you one up again. Now, this little pressure point thing that I’m doing, this is causing you more pain than that whole wrist thing and I’m going to keep you here until security gets here, at which time, you’re going to walk your happy ass the fuck out of this party and you’re going to take that tramp, trouble-making wife of yours with you. Now, you might have a bit of a problem straightening up, and you may experience a little twitch on your right side from time to time, but don’t worry. It should go away eventually—‘should’ being the operative word. I’ve never known it to cause permanent damage, but there’s always a first time…”
While Jesse is carrying on what sounds like a pleasant conversation with an obviously agony-ridden Linc, two well-dressed, official-looking gentlemen come barreling out of the balcony doors like they’re coming the save the day—after the fact, of course.
“What’s going on out here?” one of the men says in an official-type voice. Jesse turns his gaze to him.
“I came to the balcony to find this man accosting my employer. If he is removed quickly and quietly, she won’t press charges.” Jesse releases his hold on Linc, who releases a gasp and struggles to maintain his balance as his knees buckle underneath him. Jesse leans over to the stumbling fool.
“That’s twice in one night I’ve had you weak in the knees with one hand, old man. You won’t survive a third.”
Slightly hunched over, Linc glares at him with narrowed eyes but says nothing. Jesse turns his attention back to hotel security.
“You might want to escort Mr. Lincoln and his wife from the premises before the hotel becomes a party in a lawsuit for harassment. His wife is the call girl in the red dress. You can’t miss her.”
The two suited security officers just gaze at Jesse for a moment before they flank Linc and wait for him to fall in line and walk with them.
“Linc,” I call to him before they reach the entrance to the ballroom. He slowly turns to face me. “If you ever come near me again, I’ll castrate you.” The corner of his mouth rises in a mocking smirk.
“Promise?” he taunts.
“Try me,” I retort. “Ask your wife.” That taunting smile falls from his face and at the coaxing of his escorts, he leaves the balcony. Jesse whirls around on me the moment Linc and hotel security are out of sight.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” he hisses. He’s mad.
“I didn’t go far,” I protest, firmly.
“You went far enough!” he retorts. “You’re on a balcony! That could have been a goddamn disaster! You should have waited for me. All I did was go take a piss. You were with the senator. I wasn’t gone for ten minutes. You couldn’t wait ten minutes?”
“Damn it, Jesse, I don’t need this shit right now!” I shoot. I’m already emotional as fuck and then here comes Linc barging in on my private moment and now here he is barking at me—I can’t take this fucking overload!
“You hired me to protect you. Don’t do shit that’s going to make my job harder for me! You can’t fucking disappear and not let me know where you’re going. I need to keep you safe and I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are!”
“Fine!” I scream and turn around, storming away from him and over to the balustrade of the balcony. I cover my face, trying to stop the tears before they fall. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t lose my cool. I never lose my cool. And I’m losing it.
“Did he scare you that much?” Jesse’s voice says from behind me, softer than before.
“He didn’t fucking scare me at all, just give me a minute!” I bark, my voice shaking. I’m trying to compose myself the best that I can.
“Ana…” Pity. Fucking pity. I hear it in his voice.
“Just give me a fucking minute, for God’s sake!” I order him over my shoulder. He says nothing, but leaves the balcony, along with whatever other guests remained outside after hotel security escorted Linc away. I didn’t bring an entire make-up kit with me, so I can’t afford to cry, nor do I want to. I fucking hate crying. With a fucking passion. But tears are burning the backs of my eyelids and I’m fighting for all I’m worth not to allow them to fall. I’m missing my parents so terribly that my entire body aches. The hole that opens and threatens to swallow me this time of year is bigger than ever right now, made deeper by the fear of losing Blake. These are the only things that could cause me to feel this emotional at this moment. The asshole behavior of the men I’m dealing with the evening was only the pepper to my misery, not the meat of the meal.
Once I have regained my composure enough to face other people and having successfully combatted the tears that threatened to fall, I cross the balcony and enter the ballroom.
Activities have continued uninterrupted inside from what I can tell, but I definitely feel the need to call it a night. I think it rude to leave without saying anything to the Senator, so I find him in the crowd and make my way over to excuse myself for the evening.
“Mrs. Lincoln was none too happy to be asked to leave the affair,” the Senator says as he escorts me to the exit with Jesse close behind us.
“I can imagine,” I say with a sigh, falling back into character and my old self. “Linc accosted me on the balcony.” The Senator stops walking and moves to the front of me.
“Excuse me?” he says, gently cupping my elbows, his brow furrowed. “Are you alright? What did he do?” I wave him off.
“Nothing so dramatic,” I assure the Senator before he’s inclined to commission the cavalry. “Jesse took care of it.” The Senator raises his gaze to Jesse standing behind me and gives him a nod.
“Linc is a persistently nasty piece of work,” he warns. “He’ll be getting some extra incentives to stay the fuck away from you. Let me know if he tries to contact you in any way.” I smile.
“That’s very kind of you, Senator,” I accept graciously. “He’s already been warned of the detaching of his most prized possession if he ever approaches me again.”
“What, that wretched wife of his?” the Senator grimaces.
“No,” I respond. When I say nothing else, he just looks at me. I throw my glance downward, then back to his eyes. Realization dawns.
“Ah, his most prized possession,” he says, leaning in to kiss one cheek and then the other. “Always a pleasure, and a treasure, my Mistress,” he whispers in my ear before straightening and gracing me with his full political smile. “I am always at your service.”
“Thank you, Senator,” I say, fastening the top buttons on my coat. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
The ride home is silent. I watch the city lights go by and see the Space Needle off in the distance. I’m consumed with thoughts of my parents—memories that I made up to get me through long nights alone in those vacant houses; talks that me and my mother never had fashioned from talks that we did have and talks that moms from TV shows had with their TV-show daughters; all the hugs that I never got that I long to feel even now…
Even now… no one hugs me.
That hole of lonely is swallowing me, threatening to engulf me and pull me into the abyss, but the light of Golden always pushes it back, always fends it off with a gleaming sword… that is, until it returns to fight again.
“I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” Jesse begins as we approach my affluent neighborhood. “There just has to be a protocol that we have to follow if I’m to keep you safe.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice clipped. “Understood. There’s no need to discuss it further.” I can’t. I don’t want to talk anymore. That’s his version of an apology and mine of acceptance and now, we need to drop it—say nothing more about it. He catches the hint.
When the car pulls up in front of my house, I almost open my own door and leap out until I remember that there are two men in this car and one of them will certainly open my door for me. Noting my mood, they both actually rush the back-passenger door. Waldorf gets to the door first while Jesse stands nearby.
“Thank you,” I say to him, my voice clipped.
“Ma’am,” he says, pinching the brim of his hat. I walk to the door where Blake stands waiting for me. Blake…
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jesse says, walking behind me up the walk.
“No,” I say quietly. “I’m staying in tomorrow. I’ll see you Monday morning.” I need rest. I think… I just need to regroup.
“Not the club either?” I shake my head.
“Not the club either. I’m staying in,” I reiterate without stopping. “Goodnight, Jesse. I’m tired.”
“Goodnight, Ana,” he says. I take the stairs quickly and dash into my house out of the frosty night air.
“Mistress,” Blake greets me as he closes the door. “How was your evening?”
I mechanically remove the glove from my right hand and as I’m pulling my fingers from the gloves on my left, I’m flooded with the events of the night.
Story after story of my father and his days on the force…
Tales of the families he helped and the officers he trained…
How much he loved my mom…
How much he loved me…
How he was such a stand-up guy…
How much I look like my mother and remind people of her…
Daddy’s hugs and Mommy’s soft hands…
Riding in the car with Aunt Sheila and Uncle Richard the night they told me that Mommy and Daddy were never coming back…
Mommy and Daddy…
Mommy and Daddy…
Mommy and Daddy…
Now Blake wants to leave me…
I turn around and see the look of concern on my submissive’s face. My submissive…
My secret keeper…
My doctor and nurse…
My very best friend…
I throw my arms around him and pull him close to me. He doesn’t hesitate. He wraps me warmly and firmly in his embrace, cocooning me from the world. I can count on one hand the times that we’ve done this in the time that he has been with me, but when it’s necessary, it’s necessary.
No one hugs me…
My resistance is already weak and although I never cry…
I begin to weep.
I lean on Blake’s broad shoulders and just let the tears fall, tears that have been hiding inside me for years. They don’t know how to release, so they just slide down my cheeks with a soft, sad, mournful sound from my throat. Blake’s arms tighten around me, his large hands gently stroking my back, his chin nestled over my shoulder like mine is nestled over his. It’s very comforting and I sink into the warmth. This part has never happened, never before. I’ve never cried on his shoulder this way, never sought this sort of solace. And in a moment of weakness and need, I let the words slip out.
“Please, don’t leave me… please…”
I don’t regret saying them. Of all the people in my life at this very moment, he’s the only one that I can say that I truly need.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures me in a heavy, authentic Spanish accent that has brought me comfort on many days. He holds me for a few more moments, then says, “Come now. You are exhausted. Bath first or straight to bed?”
He knows me so well.
This is my first scene with Hazel. She checks out from one of the clubs and comes highly recommended. She’s fairly new to the BDSM scene only having had two Doms but parted amicably with both to explore her tastes and limits. Tonight will be a night where she plans to test one of those limits.
“You’re an anal virgin?” I ask, intrigued. She reveals this to me when I tell her about my plans for the evening.
“Yes, Sir,” she replies. My mouth waters at the thought. I’ve always wanted to fuck an anal virgin, but…
“I’m a well-endowed man, Hazel. It might not be a good idea for me to be the one to… break you in,” I warn.
“I’m told that it’s not the size that hurts, Sir. It’s the Dom who doesn’t know how to teach.” She’s challenging me. With all that unchartered ass, she’s challenging me!
“I will only ask you once if you’re sure that you want to do this,” I tell her. “You’ve lost your vaginal virginity before. Anally is a whole different ball game.”
“Do you think you can’t do it, Sir?” she asks with just enough innocence and sarcasm to pepper the challenge.
“Take off your clothes,” I order her. You want it sweetie, you got it. That ass is mine!
Twenty minutes later, she’s on her knees writhing and panting in handcuffs and a collar with my dick down her throat, a butt plug in her anus, and a flogger striking the tops of that round, juicy ass. That ass is illegal—too fucking big for her body, but luscious as fuck spread out over her feet and glistening with oil. That’s right, baby. Choke on that dick. Get me good and hard because I’m going to fuck that tight little ass so good, you’ll think twice about questioning a Dom again for the rest of your life.
She’s gagging on my dick, saliva falling from her lips and coating my shaft as I fuck her mouth.
The tails of the flogger spread out across her cheeks and she jumps at the pain, causing my dick to harden, thicken in her jaws. The sight of the strings of leather striking her ass, leaving red welts in their wake… fuck, it’s so goddamn sexy!
She moans, and it fuels my arousal. I can hardly wait to fuck her, but I’m building my anticipation—and her anxiety. I snatch my dick from her mouth and she gasps, not expecting the removal so quickly. She’s choking and gagging on air and I relish the sight of her humbled, collared, and bound—being used like the slave that she is. It’s obvious that she likes it rough; she likes pain with her pleasure, but no one’s cracked that ass, yet.
I’m your man, baby.
I quickly locate the nipple clamps on the stand next to the bed—the metal ones with the teeth. I don’t bother prepping her breasts. I just pinch the mounds to make the nipples protrude and attach the clamps, first one, then the other. She cries out as the clamps bite into her flesh. For nearly half an hour, I’ve worked her up and worked her over until she’s sweating, breathless, and red in all the right places.
“On the bed, on your back,” I order. She struggles to get to her feet and walks shakily over to the bed. I retrieve a spreader bar and follow her. When she’s on the bed, I undo one of her cuffs and thread the chain between the bars of the headboard before attaching the cuff to her wrist again. I attach the spreader bar to her ankles, then bend that little body in half and attach the spreader to the chains in the bars of the headboard.
“Remember your safewords.” I remind her, so fucking horny that I can barely think.
“Yes… Sir,” she breathes. That big ass is staring at me, nice and red and round. Looking at the welts left from the flogger, I remember the burn of Golden’s paddle on my ass. I don’t know how I made the connection. The flogger is nothing like the paddle—the sensations aren’t even similar, but looking at the redness of Hazel’s ass immediately reminded me of the sting in mine. I rub her oily red ass and she leaps from the pain. I empathize and twitch subconsciously…
And my dick thickens and pulses madly, beating wildly on my stomach.
Her asshole is pointing straight at me, the butt plug lubed and having been in place for about thirty minutes now. I slide it out and lube her ass and my dick a little more. My dick is on fire and my first orgasm is going to be quick. Her ass is red and glowing with bruises from the flogger and virgin tight, and my mind is racing from the excitement of being a Dom breaking in an anal virgin and of the masochistic memories of a leather paddle on my ass. The anticipation is nearly more than I can take, and I must practice control exercises as I fight to breach the rim of her rosette with the head of my dick.
So. Fucking. Tight.
To her credit, she lies completely still, breathing in and out and trying to relax as I work the head of my massive cock into her tiny, resisting hole. My dick is so fucking hard that I don’t even have to hold it to guide it. The lube helps with the entry, but it takes several moments of forward pushing with not even the slightest withdrawal to breach her opening. My erection is unrelenting, though. Memories of Golden’s leather on my ass and the anticipation of the inside of Hazel’s ass keeps my shaft as stiff as a board. Finally, after what feels like a fucking eternity, her nerve endings wrap around my head and swallow the hood.
The sensitive buds around the rim rub against the nerves of her rosette and my eyes literally roll back in my head. Fuck, I can’t fucking move. Every miniscule movement almost feels like a goddamn orgasm. She’s breathing like a sprinter and I’m trying not to shoot my load like a fucking pubescent teenager. I want to thrust so badly, but she’s going to fucking die if I do and the party will be over. I want to teach her a lesson, but that ain’t it.
I move inside her—extremely short thrusts—not only to try to stretch her some more, but also because that’s all I can do. With every short pull, the meat around her asshole lifts with my dick, the opposite with every thrust. I have to keep doing this until she gets accustomed to feeling me inside of her, but not three to five minutes later, I discover that I’m edging myself inside of this deliciously tight ass and I feel my balls start to respond.
“Fuck,” I growl as my dick pinkens and becomes veiny, signaling its imminent release. I prepare myself for the inevitable explosion, leaning back and reminding myself not to thrust or I may truly rip this woman’s asshole. When the burning and pulsing begins in my balls, I lean back and watch the show.
My dick thumps hard inside of that delicious oily ass, flexing wildly over and over as it pumps what I can only imagine are repeated streams of hot come into her anus. I am frozen in pleasure, my dick literally on fire in climax and my ass-cheeks flexing so tight with each orgasmic contraction that I’m getting a glute workout that would make my personal trainer proud. I’m holding my breath and waiting for the contractions to subside and my dick shrinks only slightly, just enough to allow some of the creamy pie to slip out of her ass and around the rim of my dick.
Hot. As. Fuck.
I finally release my breath and thrust my slightly softened dick a little further into her now thoroughly lubricated ass. No use in letting this opportunity go to waste, right? I love to let my freshly-nutted dick run around in a hole a little longer, as she’s more lubed up from my cum. I’m not as hard as I was before, so I can get a little deeper. Let’s open things up a bit, shall we?
After a few more minutes of loosening things up, Hazel’s breathing is a bit more controlled, but she’s still fighting to relax. It’s time for a change in position. Things are a bit messy in the lower regions, so I clean us both up a bit and release her from the wrist cuffs, but leave her in the spreader bar.
“On your knees,” I order her, and she obeys. “Arms down here at the spreader.” She brings her arms down to the spreader bar and I cuff her wrists to the bar.
Ass in the air. She’s beautiful, but not red enough. Red… my mini flogger. I can fuck her and flog her at the same time.
I retrieve my red mini-flogger—I love the color—and kneel behind that big beautiful ass once more. I lube her up again and it’s a little easier to get into her ass this time, not only because she’s stretched a bit, but also because I’m not as hard as I was the first time. It still feels good as fuck and now… I get to flog her at the same time. This takes great skill, because it’s a side-by-side flog, and the flogger is only about 38 centimeters long.
I slide in further, doggie style, deeper… shit, it feels good. It’s still tight because it’s still unchartered territory this far in. She’s breathing deeply again, trying to absorb what she’s feeling. Those nipple clamps are still on her tits and I haven’t paid them any attention—too concerned with this ass, and this flogger.
She cries out, and her ass tightens around my dick. Fuck, that’s a bonus. Do that shit again, baby!
Oh, hell yes! Her ass sucks my dick in and I push a little further. She groans, but she doesn’t scream, so I test it. Withdraw, thrust a little further; withdraw, thrust a little further; withdraw, thrust a little further…
She’s almost taking all of me now, but I’m still not at my hardest, so I enjoy being able to sink into her this deeply.
Thwap! Thwap! Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!
Okay… I’m not paying attention. Hazel’s ass is red… like, really red—like whip red, and I’m not thrusting anymore.
I look down and Hazel is holding onto the spreader bar, bracing herself so that she can bounce her ass back onto my dick as I’m flogging her. My dick has disappeared into her ass. An anal virgin, and my dick has disappeared! And I know she was an anal virgin because that shit was hard to breach, but now, I’m no longer fucking her; she’s fucking me.
I drop the flogger, reach between her legs without withdrawing, and deftly undo her wrist restraints.
“Grab the headboard.”
She only has a few moments to steady herself before I’m slamming deep into her ass. She cries out with each thrust as my hips slap against the red, tender skin of her bruised cheeks. I’m buried deep inside of her, but the strokes are still short and tight—so short, in fact, that she’s nearly sitting in my lap backing up on my dick. My hands are at the bottom of her tiny waist and the top of her hips, pulling and pushing that big ass onto my dick. It feels so good and looks so good that I literally drool on her ass as it massages my cock buried deep inside her walls. When it starts to thicken inside of her, I know it’s uncomfortable, but I can’t pull out. She begins to whimper and I get thicker and thicker until I bite out another burning orgasm in her asshole, this time grabbing her painful hip and pulling her hair at the same time.
I’m breathless with the second orgasm and fully intend to call it a night. I fall over on the bed, too tired to stay on my damn knees. I garner enough energy to release Hazel from the spreader bar and realize that one of the nipple clamps had already come off. I release the other one and drop it on the floor. Hazel falls breathless face-first onto the bed.
My mind wanders again to Golden. I think fondly of her crop on my chest and her whips on my back, the bite of the leather on my skin. I close my eyes and I can feel it. My senses come alive and find myself panting, yearning, hungry… again.
I open my eyes and there’s the mirror that I have fashioned on the ceiling, angled so that I can watch myself fuck in certain positions, like where I am now. From where I’m lying, I see Hazel’s red bubble ass staring back at me… from that side of the bed.
“Come here,” I say to her. She raises her head and turns to me, her brows furrowed.
“Sir?” I think she can hardly believe her ears.
“Straddle me.” Without another word, she crawls over me as instructed.
“Raise your knees and grab the headboard.”
She does as she’s told and lays her head on my shoulder, her face turned away from me. I reach around her and squeeze her ass, admiring our reflections in the ceiling mirror. I raise my knees and open both our legs, using the mirror to guide the head of my cock to her ass once again. It takes a little adjusting, but after a while, I’m inside once more with a bird’s eye view of that sexy penetration in the large mirror on the ceiling in front of me.
Golden wields her whip on my back again, and I thrust into Hazel’s ass, clenching her cheeks and closing my eyes as I float into a transcendental high.
The whip cracks on my skin again. My senses heighten. I jump. My dick throbs. Hazel tightens around me. I hear her whimper. Feel her tremble.
The whip cracks again. Now, the paddle. Fuck!
I’m starting to sweat. I’m gripping Hazel’s hips, fucking her ass, rubbing the bubbles and getting more penetration and stroke. I open my eyes and see the reflection in the mirror angled on the ceiling. I watch my dick going in and out of the juicy, red, lubed-up bubble ass being violently squeezed between my fingers. I’m losing control again… and I like it!
Hazel whimpers on top of me and my body responds to the sound. I begin to bite and suck her shoulders while I’m deeply fucking her ass and grunting heavily with each stroke, trying desperately not to kiss her. Kissing is too personal and I don’t often kiss my submissives. Her body stiffens and her breathing changes, and as she tightens wildly on my dick, I realize that she’s having an anal orgasm. I hold her ass open and fuck her deeper and her body starts to tremble. I feel her tightening around me even more and it’s so fucking incredible that my dick starts to pulse. When I look into the mirror and see her ass visibly clenching on my wet, hard, pink dick sliding in and out of her huge ass, I fucking lose the fight.
I groan deep in my chest as I watch my balls rise and bob, forcible pushing cum through that throbbing vein up my shaft and into that fat juicy tightening ass.
“God!” I grunt harshly and close my eyes, unable to watch the burning torment anymore as my dick blows violently in Hazel’s anus. The picture is still in my head behind my eyelids and combined with an ejaculation so powerful that I can see my dick actually bend with each squirt, my entire body is overcome with a pleasure I haven’t felt in ages. Hearing Hazel cry out in pleasure causes me to grab the back of her head with one hand and the full ball of that ass cheek with the other, tilt my head and thrust my tongue as deep into her mouth as my dick is in her ass.
Oh, sweet ecstasy!
The delicious orgasm goes on for several more seconds as her ass clenches around my dick and my tongue laps hungrily through her mouth. I usually don’t kiss my submissives, but sweet hell, I can’t help it this time. I’m fucking euphoric as we ride the wave of this feeling that has taken us both over and rendered us completely helpless to the nirvana. When the orgasm finally wanes, and I rip my lips from hers, she can only fall helplessly on top of me, panting and spent while my dick continues to throb in her ass with vicious aftershocks. We both lay there unable to move for several moments.
“Was that what you expected?” I ask finally with self-satisfied confidence.
“M… more… Sir… much… much more.”
Yeah, I know, I think to myself while squeezing that fat ass.
A/N: Stupid is as stupid does—Forest Gump
Ana makes a reference to Cruella and Lestat when talking about Elena and Linc. Hopefully, the pictures already gave away that she was comparing them to Cruella De Vil and the vampire Lestat.
“When what to my wondering eyes should appear”—of course, not my line. It’s a line from the poem Twas The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore.
The Pinterest board for this story can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/fifty-shades-golden/.
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