Chapter 1 - And So It Begins...

Miss Anastasia Steele calls me. And I can’t believe how fucking happy about it I am. What am I, a fourteen year old adolescent or something?

“Er... we’d like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the article,” she tells me in a breathy, nervous little voice.  “Tomorrow if that’s okay. Where would be convenient for you, Sir?”

Just hearing her call me ‘Sir’ over the phone does things to me, but I manage to keep my cool and suggest that we meet at The Heathman at nine thirty the following morning.

Hell, I can stay in Portland a bit longer, I can work from here and get Taylor and Andrea to organize things for me– that’s their job.

I try to convince myself that maybe seeing little Miss Steele again will help rid me of this annoying and inconvenient obsession for her that I seem to have developed, but the truth is I just can’t help myself. 

I have to see her again.

~~~

And it’s still there. I feel it as we shake hands when we meet the following morning. That electricity humming between us. What is that all about? But as we touch I know she feels it too, because her breathing becomes erratic and she blushes that sexy shade of pink that I’m becoming all too familiar with. I’d like to see her ass that shade of pink after I’ve spanked the shit out of her. Asking me if I was gay, how fucking dare she.

Anastasia introduces me to Katherine Kavanagh. Jeez, I’m glad it wasn’t her that fell into my office. Oh sure, she’s attractive in the conventional way, but she doesn’t interest me in the slightest. And she’s bossy and controlling in a way that I find most unpleasant in a woman.

No, I’d much rather look at little Miss Steele any day of the week.

Especially as she is wearing tight skinny jeans which showcase that delectable ass of hers... and those long luscious legs… and as for her perfect tits in that tight T shirt… Christ what I could do to her…

But then I am most displeased when I see the look that passes between Anastasia and the photographer guy, Jose Rodriguez. I hope Welch hasn’t screwed up with his security check and missed that she has a boyfriend. I’m gonna be pissed with him if he has.

Shit, photographer guy really wants into her panties big time. He can sure as hell fuck off.

“Where would you like me?” I ask him coolly, and from his look he knows exactly what I’m threatening him with. He really doesn't want to mess with me if he knows what’s good for him.

But then bossy Katherine Kavanagh takes over to organize the photo shoot, and some stupid fucker blinds me with lights – this is what comes of dealing with stupid little amateurs I guess, and serves me right for agreeing to this shoot.

But I play nice, because it means I get to look at Anastasia for the next twenty minutes or so. Crap, she is so shy that I only manage to catch her eye twice in all that time, so it’s real hard to try and assess if it's worth me trying to set things up with her.

Could she really be my new submissive? Training her to my own singular tastes would be so arousing… Hell, I really want her, so I’ve just got to give it a shot. And because I’m used to getting my own way all of the time, failure is not an option.

“Will you walk with me, Miss Steele?” I ask her as the photo shoot finally comes to an end.

She is clearly very surprised by my request, so it seems she has no idea that I find her attractive. So naïve, so appealing.

The photographer guy is not at all happy when she quickly agrees, and as I hold the door open for her to leave with me, he scowls fiercely. Tough shit boy.

Christ but she fidgets so nervously as she stands there, and I get an immediate hard on as I picture all the possible means that I could employ to cure that. Oh yeah, get her tightly bound up and then maybe use the crop, the flogger, or even a paddle… but I mustn’t get ahead of myself. She may run a hundred miles when she gets a hint of what I want from her. But I can’t let that happen, I just can’t.

I wait for Taylor to follow us out. His face is as impassive as ever, but I know he must be curious as to why I'm breaking with my normal protocol for selecting a new sub by actively pursuing this particular little brown haired girl - he’s seen enough of them over the years to know how things usually work. But he knows better than to ask any questions.

“I’ll call you, Taylor,” I instruct him, and he disappears towards the exit.

“I wonder if you would join me for coffee this morning,” I ask Anastasia, as I carefully study her to gauge her reaction, unable to resist staring at her beautiful face. Oh those stunning blue eyes, no wonder I’ve been dreaming about them every night. I’ve never seen such amazing color eyes before. I’ve always selected subs with brown eyes.

She looks completely astounded and shocked by my request.

“I have to drive everyone home,” she finally mutters, as she nervously twists her fingers again.

Shit! She’s turning me down? No, no way! I’m not having this.

“TAYLOR.” I call him back.

“Are they college based?” I ask. When she just quietly nods, I tell her that Taylor will take her friends back and quickly instruct him accordingly. Problem worked out.  Now she can have coffee with me.

But instead she frowns, and for one dreadful minute I think she is going to turn me down – again.

But then she comes up with her own solution. She will swap cars with her friend Kate. So she does want to go on a date with me. I am stupidly, ridiculously pleased by this, and I give her one of my best winning smiles as I let her back into the room to arrange things with her friend.

After what seems like an age, she finally reappears.

“Okay, let’s do coffee,” she whispers as she looks at me shyly and flushes deeply yet again. I just wish I knew exactly what she's thinking to make her blush that way – intriguing.

“After you, Miss Steele,” I grin, letting her go ahead of me, so that I can enjoy the way her perfect little ass moves as she walks.

Christian Grey, CEO of Grey Enterprises, and BDSM Dominant Supreme, has never gone on a date to get a new submissive before. But for this alluring and fascinating creature that seems to have completely beguiled me, I am going on a date. 

Bring it on.

~~~

As we walk down the hotel corridor together, I gently start my interrogation of Miss Steele. I need to find out how involved she is with her friends and family, to assess whether there could be any problems with her embracing the lifestyle that comes with being my sub.

“How long have you known Katherine Kavanagh?”

Clearly the tenacious Miss Kavanagh has considerable influence over her, as she managed to convince her to drive all the way from Portland to Seattle as stand in for her to interview me. Thank Christ she did.

“Since our freshman year. She’s a good friend.”

“Hmm.”

She could be a problem, as I expect my subs to devote every weekend to me, not to ‘friends’. They have to be available for sex whenever, however, I want it. That’s the deal. And usually I want it a lot. I most certainly will with Miss Steele.

I press the call button for the elevator, and as the doors open they reveal a young couple in a passionate clinch, who quickly jump apart guiltily.

I can see that Anastasia is blushing again and struggling to hide a smile as she peeks up at me through her lashes. Christ, she looks so adorable when she does that.

As we reach the ground floor and the doors open, I take her hand to lead her out. I find I really like the feel of her much smaller hand in mine.

We hear the young couple in the elevator giggling as we walk away and I can’t help smiling.

“What is it about elevators?” I murmur, but the truth is I understand only too well how the confined space of the elevator serves to magnify sexual attraction.

We head out of the hotel and turn left towards the Portland Coffee House which I know is nearby, thanks to some quick research. I make sure we avoid the revolving doors, because then I would have to let go of her hand, and I don’t want to let it go. Miss Steele appears to be happy, as I see her fighting to prevent a smile from breaking across her face. I’d like to see that smile in full. I already know she has a heart stopping smile.

We walk four blocks to the coffee shop, and I suggest she chooses a table while I get the drinks. She takes me by surprise with her choice of beverage – English breakfast tea, bag out. She informs me she’s not keen on coffee. Surely everyone drinks coffee? 

Her eyes widen when I ask her whether she wants sugar, and then she looks down at her fingers shyly and declines anything to eat. What is she thinking?

I know she’s checking me out as I stand in line waiting to be served. That’s cool, no problem. I’ve little doubt she likes what she sees. And I sure as hell like what I see as I join her at the table. She’s deep in thought and unconsciously biting her bottom lip which I find incredibly erotic.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I startle her, and yet again she blushes. I hope that means she is having erotic thoughts about me too. I wish I could be sure though, this girl is such an enigma. I’m more used to women falling over themselves to get close to me.

As I hand her the tea, she still hasn’t answered me, so I prompt her again.

“Your thoughts?”

“This is my favorite tea,” she replies evasively, indicating the Twining’s English Breakfast tea bag.

No, she’s not giving anything away, not opening up to me at all, frustrating little creature that she is. I watch as she dips the tea bag into the teapot and then fishes it out almost straight away.

“I like my tea black and weak,” she explains as she sees my puzzled look.

Right, time to cut to the chase and find out what I need to know.

“I see. Is he your boyfriend?” I need to establish for certain that she is definitely single. I don’t share.

“Who?”

“The photographer. José  Rodriguez.”

“No. José ’s a good friend of mine, that’s all. Why did you think he was my boyfriend?”

“The way you smiled at him, and he at you.”

I look her straight in the eye to check she’s not lying. I'd know. I’m an expert in this, it’s one of the reasons why I'm so successful. I know when people are bullshitting.

“He’s more like family,” she assures me, and I believe her. Good.

She watches as I peel back the paper on my blueberry muffin. I think about what else I’d like to peel back – all her clothes, so that I could gaze freely on that lush body of hers.

“Do you want some?” I offer, but she declines.

“And the boy I met yesterday, at the store. He’s not your boyfriend?” Best check to be completely sure.

She seems slightly irritated as she answers me this time.

“No. Paul’s just a friend. I told you yesterday. Why do you ask?”

“You seem nervous around men,” I state.

“I find you intimidating,” she retorts, as she flushes deeply again. I’m taken aback by this surprisingly candid answer, but I find I like this honesty. Perhaps I’ve underestimated Miss Steele.

“You should find me intimidating. You’re very honest. Please don’t look down. I like to see your face.” I smile encouragingly and now it’s her turn to look surprised. “It gives me some clue as to what you might be thinking. You’re a mystery, Miss Steele.”

“There’s nothing mysterious about me,” she snorts in disbelief.

“I think you’re very self-contained,” I comment. Yes, she doesn't give much away. “Except when you blush of course, which is often. I just wish I knew what you were blushing about.”

Oh Miss Steele, I really hope it’s because just like me, you're having some seriously dirty thoughts, fantasizing about me fucking you in every possible position.

“Do you always make such personal observations?”

“I hadn’t realized I was. Have I offended you?” I’m surprised by her honesty again. She is quite a courageous little thing under that shy exterior. Much to my surprise, I find this intriguing, so refreshing after all the ‘yes’ women I always have around me.

“No,” she replies. “But you're very high handed.”

There it is again, that audacious streak. No one usually dares to pick me up about my behavior, and I feel slightly ashamed to think that perhaps I’ve upset her.

“I’m used to getting my own way Anastasia, in all things,” I offer by way of explanation.

“I don’t doubt it. Why haven’t you asked me to call you by your first name?”

She seems genuinely pissed by this. If I have my way, she will be calling me ‘Sir’, ‘Master’ or Mr. Grey, but we haven’t got to that part of things yet have we? So for now I just explain.

“The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. That’s the way I like it.” I can hardly acknowledge how hearing her say my name as she left my office last week has stayed in my mind to taunt me.

Enough of all this, I won’t have her defying me. I'm the one in control here. I steer the conversation round to ask about her family. I need to know if any close family associations could present an obstacle to her being my sub every weekend, but nothing that I manage to prise out of her gives me any great cause for concern. 

She doesn't give much away, but I’m surprised to learn that she chose to live with her step-dad rather than her mom when she was fifteen. Hmm, she must be pretty close to him then. Her mom seems a bit ditzy if she’s on her fourth marriage. I don’t detect that trait in Anastasia.

Now she turns the tables and asks about my family, and I very briefly fill her in, but I didn't come here to talk about them with her. They are of no concern to a sub.

Then we talk about travelling abroad – she has never left mainland USA, and I find myself imagining showing her places like France and England when I see the way her face lights up as she becomes animated on the subject of Shakespeare and Hardy. But just as she is beginning to open up a little bit, she calls time on our date. No!

“I’d better go. I have to study,” she informs me as she glances at her watch.

“For your exams?”

“Yes, they start Tuesday.”

I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to try and argue with her to make her stay a bit longer. These exams are important to her, I understand and respect that. I offer to walk her back to the hotel parking lot where Miss Kavanagh’s car is. 

But at least nothing I’ve learnt this morning has given me any cause to discount the possibility of recruiting her as my new sub. That thought makes me happy and I smile at her, thinking of how much fun it will be to train her for the role. 

Oh yes indeed, fettering, flogging and fucking the delectable Miss Steele in my playroom. Fucking her very hard indeed. Stop it Grey, you’re getting way ahead of yourself again.

But I can’t help thinking about the clothes that I would like to see her wearing, rather than the cheap crap she usually dresses in. I’d really like to see her in a low cut silk blouse, with a tight pencil skirt and 'fuck me' sky high heels – Louboutins are the shoe of choice for my subs, and with those gorgeous long legs of hers... hmm, she would look stunning.

“Do you always wear jeans?” I ask.

“Mostly” she confirms.

I thought as much. Well, that means no one else will get to see her dressed as she really ought to be. I can take care of her wardrobe to suit my tastes.    

We’re nearly back at the hotel, when she blurts out, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

What? Well I suppose I have asked her all about her boyfriends. But she really has no idea about me does she? So innocent, so naïve.

“No, Anastasia. I don’t do the girlfriend thing,” I inform her gently and see her look of confusion.

Is that what she thought this ‘date’ was all about? Holy shit, of course she did. I can see by her embarrassed look that I’m right and now she can’t make her escape quickly enough. In her hurry she trips and stumbles headlong into the road, and I see a cyclist making straight for her as he heads the wrong way up this one way street.

“Shit, Anna!” I tug her hand so that she falls against me as the cyclist shoots past.

Before I know it, I’m holding her tightly against my chest, and I’m instantly overwhelmed by how fantastic it feels to have her in my arms, as I discover that she smells wonderful, especially her hair. I hold her close as I trace the perfect soft skin of her face to make sure she is unhurt. I nearly groan out load as my thumb traces over that beautiful mouth of hers – that bottom lip that she bites enticingly so often is so soft and alluring.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, and as she looks at me, she stares longingly at my mouth, and I know that she really wants me to kiss her. In fact she is practically begging me to kiss her. And I really, really want to, I’m breathless with need, but then I look into those wonderful, innocent blue eyes of hers, and when they seem to see right into me, into the very blackness of my soul, I come to my senses.

What am I doing for Christ’s sake, messing with this beautiful, sweet, innocent young girl? She deserves a far better man than a fucked up individual like me. What have I been thinking? Do I not have a decent bone in my body?  I shake my head to pull myself together, to try to break the spell that this bewitching female seems to have cast over me.

“Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you,” I manage to whisper. “Breathe, Anastasia, breathe. I’m going to stand you up and let you go.”

I can see she is upset, really upset by my apparent rejection of her. We both know that she was crying out for me to kiss her, and yet I didn’t. I hold her at arm’s length to make sure she is not going to faint or anything else stupid. 

“I’ve got this,” she insists, clearly mortified. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask, still holding her shoulders to support her.

What is she thanking me for – not leading her down the dark path to BDSM? For coming to my senses in time?

“For saving me.”

“That idiot was riding the wrong way. I’m glad I was here. I shudder to think what could have happened to you. Do you want to come and sit down in the hotel for a moment?”

As I let her go, she shakes her head, before wrapping her arms around herself, and quickly crossing the road to the hotel, while I follow behind her.

Outside the hotel, she turns and faces me, but cannot look me in the eye.

“Thanks for the tea and doing the photo shoot,” she murmurs, clearly still upset and humiliated by the turn of events between us.

I feel like a complete shit, and struggle to say something to her, something that will explain that I am doing this for her own good, despite the fact that she calls to me on some deep level in a way that I have never experienced in my life before. But no words can explain or excuse my behavior. I wanted to make you into my submissive sex slave. It’s better for you this way.

“What, Christian?” she snaps at me.

What can I say?

“Good luck with your exams,” is the only thing I finally come up with.

She looks at me with disgust and skepticism.

“Thanks,” she says sarcastically. “Goodbye Mr. Grey.”

With that she turns on her heel and disappears towards the underground garage.

I am left in anguish, feeling so confused and bereft at having allowed Miss Anastasia Steele to walk out of my life.

I take out my cell to call Taylor to come and get me, wondering how the fuck I am ever going to get this woman out of my head.

I don’t own any of the Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters therein. They belong to E L James. I’m just borrowing them for fun and not for profit. Please refer to the Legal’s page for further details. This work is not to be copied or reproduced in any way without permission.