self-esteem I have reasonably intact.

But the thought of not seeing him again is agonizing. How has he gotten under my

skin so quickly? It can’t just be the sex… can it? I dash the tears from my eyes. I don’t

want to examine my feelings for him. I’m frightened what I’ll uncover if I do. What am

I going to do?

I park up outside our duplex. No lights on. Kate must be out. I’m relieved. I don’t

want her to catch me crying again. As I undress, I wake up the mean machine and sitting

in my inbox is a message from Christian.

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Tonight

Date:May 25 2011 22:01

To:Anastasia Steele

I don’t understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your ques-

tions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I

fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to

make this work. We will take it slow.

Trust me.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

His email makes me weep more. I am not a merger. I am not an acquisition. Reading this,

I might as well be. I don’t reply. I just don’t know what to say to him. I fumble into my

PJs, and wrapping his jacket around me. I climb into bed. As I lie staring into the darkness,

I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.

‘Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.’

‘I don’t do the girlfriend thing.’

‘I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.’

‘I don’t make love.’‘This is all I know.’

And as I weep into my pillow silently, it’s this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too.

Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

Christian is standing over me grasping a plaited, leather riding-crop. He’s wearing old,

faded, ripped Levis and that’s all. He flicks the crop slowly into his palm as he gazes down

at me. He’s smiling, triumphant. I cannot move. I am naked and shackled, spread-eagled

on a large four-poster bed. Reaching forward, he trails the tip of the crop from my forehead

down the length of my nose, so I can smell the leather, and over my parted, panting lips.

He pushes the tip into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, rich leather.

“Suck,” he commands his voice soft. My mouth closes over the tip as I obey.

“Enough,” he snaps.

I’m panting once more as he tugs the crop out of my mouth, trails it down and under

my chin, on down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat. He swirls it slowly there

and then continues to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, between my breasts,

over my torso down to my navel. I’m panting, squirming, pulling against my restraints that

are biting into my wrists and my ankles. He swirls the tip around my navel then continues

to trail the leather tip south, through my pubic hair to my clitoris. He flicks the crop and it

hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I come, gloriously, shouting my release.

Abruptly, I wake, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of

my orgasm. Holy hell. I’m completely disorientated. What the hell just happened?I’m

in my bedroom alone. How? Why? I sit bolt upright, shocked… wow. It’s morning. I

glance at my alarm clock – eight o’clock. I put my head in my hands. I didn’t know I

could dream sex. Was it something I ate? Perhaps the oysters and my Internet research

manifesting itself in my first wet dream. It’s bewildering. I had no idea that I could orgasm

in my sleep.

Kate is skipping around the kitchen when I stagger in.

“Ana, are you okay? You look odd. Is that Christian’s jacket you’re wearing?”

“I’m fine.” Damn, should have checked in the mirror. I avoid her piercing green eyes.

I’m still reeling from my morning’s event. “Yes, this is Christian’s jacket.”

She frowns.

“Did you sleep?”

“Not very well.”

I head for the kettle. I need tea.

“How was dinner?”

So it begins.

“We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I’d say it was fishy.”

“Ugh… I hate oysters, and I don’t want to know about the food. How was Christian?

What did you talk about?”

“He was attentive,” I pause.

What can I say? His HIV status is clear, he’s heavily into role-play, wants me to obey

his every command, he hurt someone he tied to his bedroom ceiling, and he wanted to

fuck me in the private dining room. Would that be a good summary? I try desperately to

remember something from my encounter with Christian that I can discuss with Kate.

“He doesn’t approve of Wanda.”

“Who does, Ana? That’s old news. Why are you being so coy? Give it up, girlfriend.”

“Oh, Kate, we talked about lots things. You know – how fussy he is about food. Inci-

dentally, he liked your dress.” The kettle has boiled, so I make myself some tea. “Do you

want tea? Would you like me to hear your speech for today?”

“Yes, please. I worked on it last night over at Lilah’s. I’ll go fetch it. And yes, I’d love

some tea.” Kate races out of the kitchen.

Phew, Katherine Kavanagh sidetracked. I slice a bagel and pop it into the toaster. I

flush remembering my very vivid dream. What on earth was that about?

Last night I found it hard to sleep. My head was buzzing with various options. I am

so confused. Christian’s idea of a relationship is more like a job offer. It has set hours, a

job description, and a rather harsh grievance procedure. It’s not how I envisaged my first

romance – but, of course, Christian doesn’t do romance. If I tell him I want more, he may

say no… and I could jeopardize what he has offered. And this is what concerns me most,

because I don’t want to lose him. But I’m not sure I have the stomach to be his submissive

– deep down, it’s the canes and whips that put me off. I’m a physical coward, and I will go

a long way to avoid pain. I think of my dream… is that what it would be like?My inner

goddess jumps up and down with cheerleading pom-poms shouting yes at me.

Kate comes back into the kitchen with her laptop. I concentrate on my bagel and listen

patiently as she runs through her Valedictorian speech.

I am dressed and ready when Ray arrives. I open the front door, and he’s standing on the

porch in his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man

streaks through me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of af-

fection. He’s taken-aback, bemused.

“Hey, Annie, I’m pleased to see you too,” he mutters as he hugs me. Setting me back,

his hands on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. “You okay, kid?”

“Of course, Dad, can’t a girl be pleased to see her old man?”

He smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living area.

“You look good,” he says.

“This is Kate’s dress.” I glance down at the grey chiffon halter neck dress.

He frowns.

“Where is Kate?”

“She’s gone to campus. She’s giving a speech, so she has to be early.”

“Should we head on over?”

“Dad, we have half an hour. Would you like some tea? And you can tell me how ev-

eryone in Montesano is getting along. How was the drive down?”

Ray pulls his car into the campus parking lot, and we follow the stream of humanity dotted

with ubiquitous black and red gowns, heading toward the sports auditorium.

“Good luck, Annie. You seem awfully nervous, do you have to do anything?”