Chapter 2 - Grey Knight To The Rescue

I know I’m being totally shitty with everyone but there’s not a thing I can do about it and my staff just have to suck it up. 

What is it about this girl? I’ve fucked many women, but I’ve never felt anything like this for any of them. I’m angry with myself for being so weak, for not being able to discard these feelings. 

I’m a Dominant for Christ's sake. I control women. They don’t control me.

The only person who has any clue as to why I’m constantly in such a foul mood is Taylor, and he knows better than to make any kind of comment.

Although I really should be back in Seattle, I find I can’t drag myself away from Portland because it’s where Anastasia is. Her siren's call is very strong indeed. But I don’t waste my time, I set up my office at The Heathman; there are plenty of things I can progress from here. I haven’t completely lost the plot.

Taylor is no doubt wishing I would hurry up and get myself a nice new, willing, compliant little brown haired submissive to flog and fuck senseless in my playroom as I usually do, so that I can let off steam and get this out of my system, but I can’t. I know I could have the pick of countless women who would happily jump at the chance to sub for me, but I don’t want anybody else – only Miss Anastasia Rose Steele.

I feel as if a spell has been cast over me drawing me to her, and boy, is it strong magic, because I cannot get her out of my head no matter how hard I try. Even the sound of her name keeps playing like a track on repeat through my brain. Anastasia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

I keep trying to convince myself that I’ve done the right thing and that now I must move on and leave her alone, but that is so much easier said than done.

I haven’t had a session with Flynn for a while, so I haven’t discussed Anastasia with him yet, but I think I’m going to have to soon. He is the one person that I tell everything to, no holds barred. He knows all of my sick shit. Perhaps he can help me get my head round all these confusing feelings.

Every morning I go for a run and then put myself through a punishing work out in the hotel gym, and I’ve even had Claude Bastille come down to Portland so I can kickbox the shit out of him, but nothing helps.

Thoughts of Anastasia pop into my head unbidden, horny erotic thoughts of her in my playroom in every possible position. I have a constant hard on. If I could only give her a good spanking and then fuck her really hard, I would feel so much better.

I sleep even less than usual. Music usually provides an escape, a balm for my wounded, damaged soul and I miss my piano. In the early hours of the morning, all sorts of unwanted thoughts invade my mind.

Rage and anger course through me at the thought of another man having Ana. I can’t bear to think of anyone else so much as touching her. I’ve already seen that gorilla at the hardware store mauling her, and then the photographer boy drooling over her too. She seems to have no idea of just how attractive she is, which is part of her appeal I guess.

But it also means she’s vulnerable, she needs taking care of, and as her Dom that’s what I would do. I would look after her and keep her safe. I really wish I could get her signed up as my sub and obeying the rules, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so worried about her.

My first impression of her when she fell into my office was that she was a natural submissive. Having spent a little time with her now, I’m not so sure.

But it’s her very audaciousness that piques my interest. When I’m with her, the boredom, the ennui that has always plagued me lifts, and I feel more alive than I have done for the longest time. How can she have gotten to me so much in such a short time? I can understand how in times of old men accused women of witchcraft, because that’s what I am – bewitched.

The other thing that haunts me is the look on Anastasia’s face when I held her close but didn’t kiss her.  The pain of being rejected was written all over her sweet little face. Upsetting her, being the cause of that pain is eating away at me.

How can I explain things to her, make her feel better, make her understand how hard I had to struggle not to give in to my desire to kiss her right there in the street?

How can I explain that if I had kissed her, things would have exploded and been unstoppable between us and then I would have been guilty of dragging her down into my dark world. I know what a sick, fucked up bastard I am.

But part of me argues that she might just like what I could offer and that I should at least find out. She would be safe and well looked after as my submissive. I could introduce her to a whole new world, one where she will experience unimaginable pleasure, if she just gives herself freely to me to test her limits. And the thought of her doing that really, really excites me.

And that is why I can’t drag myself away from Portland and head back to Seattle just yet. I can’t quite convince myself to turn my back on the delectable Miss Steele and just walk away.

Naturally I’ve ordered further extensive investigations to make sure I know as much as I possibly can about her. Nothing has come up at all about any previous boyfriends, which I find very surprising - she’s nearly twenty two years old after all. Still, I’m pleased about the lack of boyfriends. There is also nothing to indicate that she is gay, which matches my gut feeling, having noted how she responds to me, so I rule that possibility out.

I’ve also had full background checks run on everyone she regularly comes into contact with, to ensure she is not in any way at risk from some unknown fucker. Yes, I am a control freak. I am as thorough and ruthless about this as if I was about to undertake a major new acquisition.

Maybe I am; or am I deluding myself?

Reports on the photographer and gorilla boy from the hardware store come back clean, neither has a criminal record or any hint of rape/sexual offences either on or off the record.  One of her college professors apparently has a penchant for cross dressing, but that doesn’t really worry me too much and in any case she is about to leave WSU.

At least I've found out that her exams finish on Friday with a three hour exam about the novels of Thomas Hardy. Hmm, the work of his that springs to mind is of course Tess of the D’Urbervilles, because of the obvious parallels.

I don’t like waiting, but I exert some measure of self-control. I don’t distract her in any way from studying for her finals. I wait until Friday before I send her a gift that I hope will help explain why I resisted kissing her. I quite enjoy finding a suitable quote to go with the three first edition Hardy novels I’ve bought for her. I get Taylor to drop them round just before she is due home after her final exam, so they will be waiting for her.

My inquiries have established that she is a very talented English Literature student, so she should easily be able to work out what I am trying to say to her with the quote I write on the accompanying card:

Why didn’t you tell me there was danger?  Why didn’t you warn me?

Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them these tricks…

Modern day translation: ‘Young women, in their desire for love and affection are inclined towards unhealthy love relationships masquerading as love’.

I am explaining to her that I don’t do the girlfriend thing, the hearts and flowers love stuff. That’s why I didn’t kiss her because that was what she would have thought I was offering her. I didn’t want to mislead her or trick her.

~~~

I welcome the distraction of having Elliot around on Friday evening. He irritates the shit out of me at times with his constant immature teasing and banter about my lack of a love life, while boasting about his own latest conquest. I tolerate it because it’s better than him knowing the truth about me. I keep my lifestyle totally separate from my family to protect them, especially Mom. I'd never want to do anything to upset her.

But Elliot’s my brother and I can relax with him in a way that I can with few other people, and I’m glad he’s in Portland. We have dinner at The Heathman and then head to the hotel bar for a beer or two. I don’t let myself drink too much as I know it would not be a good idea in my present state of mind.

I sigh as my cell buzzes yet again at around eleven, but my heart leaps into my mouth when I see who the caller is.

Fuck. Anastasia. The caller ID is telling me it’s her. I stored her number when she rang me to arrange the photo shoot, but hell, I would have gotten it in any case.

I quickly answer it.

“Anastasia?”

“Why did you send me the books?”

Crap. She sounds really odd and is slurring her words. What the hell’s going on?

“Anastasia, are you okay? You sound strange.”

“I’m not the strange one, you are.”

Shit. Clearly the Hardy books I sent have upset her. So much for my pathetic attempt at an apology. Maybe I should have just left her alone because it seems I’ve only made things worse, and now she’s gone and got herself drunk. Alarm bells are sounding in my brain.

“Anastasia, have you been drinking?”

“What’s it to you?”

I manage to hold my temper at her impudent tone of voice, but I’m already starting to make plans as I'm talking to her. I urgently need to find her and make sure she is okay.

Elliot is looking on in amusement as he listens to my end of the conversation. He’s never heard me talking to a woman before in anything other than a business context.

“I’m – curious. Where are you?”

“In a bar.”

“Which bar?”  I’m getting seriously pissed off. I need to track her down. Anything could happen to her in the state she’s clearly got herself into and I can feel the hackles rise on the back of my neck.

“A bar in Portland.”

“How are you getting home?”  

Who is she with? Are they looking after her, will they make sure she gets home okay?

“I’ll find a way.”

I am so fucking frustrated by this conversation, I'm getting nowhere fast with her. She is in danger and I need to find her as soon as possible. I hate this feeling of not being in control.

“Which bar are you in?”

“Why did you send me the books, Christian?”

“Anastasia, where are you? Tell me now.”

I speak to her as I would speak to a disobedient sub who has seriously displeased me. I need answers. I really need this information right now, this minute, to ensure her safety.

“You’re so…domineering,” she giggles. Oh Anastasia, you have no idea.

“Ana, so help me, where the fuck are you?”

Unbelievably she just giggles at me again. How much has she had to drink for Christ’s sake? Now I’m even more worried.

“I’m in Portland…’s a long way from Seattle,” she slurs. God, I hope she isn’t about to pass out.

“Where in Portland?” I try to get some sense out of her again.

“Goodnight, Christian.”

No, no, no! Don’t you dare hang up on me, not until you’ve told me where you are.

“Ana!”

But she’s gone. Shit.

“What’s going on Christian? Who’s this Anastasia…?”

I put my hand up to silence Elliot as I quickly hit a number on my cell.

“I need an urgent trace on Miss Steele’s cell… yes, immediately… optimum accuracy… I’ll hold.”

There’s no time to lose, some sleaze ball could be jumping her right now and there won’t be a thing she can do about it the state she’s in.

It seems to take forever, but actually our top of the range tracking system only takes a couple of minutes to track her location, and thankfully it turns out the bar she’s at isn’t that far from The Heathman.  I need to confirm she still has her cell, that she hasn’t passed out and dropped it – or worse. I call her back.

I close my eyes in relief when she answers it with a timid “Hi.”

“I’m coming to get you.”

I don’t wait for her answer. I hang up, and then I’m standing up to leave.

“You want me to come too?” Elliot asks, his eyes narrowing as he realizes how worried I am about whatever shit’s going down.

“Yeah, you might come in handy I suppose,” I tell him. My brother knows how to handle himself in a fight. I hope it won’t come to anything like that, but it’s always good to have some dependable back up. I regret giving Taylor the night off now. I could recall him, but waiting for him would only delay us.

 “So come on, spill, who exactly is this ‘Ana’ chick then?” 

Elliot asks, as I floor the gas to get to the club to find her.

“Just an acquaintance.”

Even Elliot realizes that this is not the time for stupid cracks, and thankfully shuts up.

When we pull up at the bar, it’s heaving with student types, most of them trashed and pissed out of their stupid skulls. Probably out celebrating the end of their exams, which I guess is what Ana is doing. Elliot and I make our way inside, but shit, where to find her, it’s so crowded.

I desperately scan the place looking for Anastasia, and I feel the panic rising when I can’t spot her anywhere. Then I see Katherine Kavanagh over on the far side, and head in her direction.

“Is that her?” Elliot asks, as he sees who I’m heading for.

“No, that’s her friend, but she should know where Ana is – I hope so anyway,” I say grimly.

Of course Elliot can’t take his eyes off Kate, she’s just his type. Classically pretty in a very obvious way, with strawberry blonde hair, and her curvy figure shown off to perfection in tight jeans and a strappy top.

“Where’s Anastasia?” I don’t waste any time with pleasantries. I need to find her now.

“What the…what on earth are you doing here?” Kate gapes at me in disbelief.

Oh for fucks sake, get your brain in gear.

“Tell. Me. Now. Where. Is. Anastasia?” I spell it out slowly for her and stare at her, controlling the urge to shake her out of her stupefaction. Clearly she has also been drinking.

“She…err…went outside for some fresh air,” she finally replies. “José’s just gone to check on her.”

Fuck. I bet he’s going to ‘check’ on her alright.

“I’m going outside to look for Ana. You stay here in case I miss her and she comes back inside,” I instruct Elliot.

Of course, man-whore that he is, he’s more than happy to cozy up to Miss Kavanagh. But I notice she is eye fucking him too, so I can see where that is going. I shake my head as I quickly make my way out.

Out in the parking lot, I look round trying to find Ana. Then I spot a couple. The guy has his arms tightly round the girl and he’s trying to kiss her even though she’s pushing him away.

Shit, it’s Ana and José. 

This is exactly what I feared, and I can feel boiling hot rage coursing through my veins. Thank Christ I got here just in time.

As I make my way over to them, I hear Ana pleading with him to stop.

“José, no! Please, don't.”

She's begging him, but he still doesn’t let her go. How fucking dare he maul her.

“I think the lady said no.”

Finally José lets Ana go when I intervene.  It's a sensible move on his part, seeing as I'm struggling to prevent myself from beating the crap out of him. 

“Grey,” he says tersely as I glower at him in disgust. But before I can deal with him in the manner he deserves, other events take over.

Ana glances up at me in surprise, then she suddenly doubles over and vomits spectacularly onto the ground.

“Ugh – Dios mio, Ana!” José recoils, clearly disgusted.

Shame she didn’t throw up all over the prick, that would have served him right for trying to force his tongue down her unwilling throat. I’m glad it was unwilling.

I suspect that Ana hasn’t finished vomiting yet, so I grab her hair to get it out of the way and lead her over to a raised flowerbed on the edge of the parking lot.

“If you’re going to throw up again, do it here. I’ll hold you,” I tell her as I fist her hair into a makeshift ponytail and hold her by the shoulders. She feebly tries to push me away, but then vomits again… and again, until finally she has nothing left to bring up, but her body keeps trying anyway.

She’s exhausted and can barely stand as I pass her my linen handkerchief to wipe her mouth. I’m still furious with her for getting herself in such a state and putting herself at risk, but this is tempered by my immense relief at finding her in time to prevent any serious harm coming to her. And even in this state, I’m just thrilled to see her, to be with her again.

I glower over at José who is still hanging around, watching us from the bar entrance. Ana also throws him a black look and he reluctantly disappears back inside the bar, muttering something about seeing her inside. Oh no you fucking won’t.

Ana is clearly highly embarrassed, but the vomit really doesn't worry me – I'm not squeamish, my lifestyle means I've seen and dealt with all sorts of bodily fluids over the years.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters self-consciously as she toys nervously with my handkerchief.

“What are you sorry for, Anastasia?” I ask, amused and curious to know what she considers to be her worst sin.

“The phone call, mainly. Being sick. Oh the list is endless,” she murmurs, flushing.

“We’ve all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you,” I tell her, recalling my wild teenage years before Elena took me in hand and stopped me from drinking. 

But I have to let her know she really can’t act like this. It’s not acceptable behavior for anyone, and certainly not from a potential sub of mine.

“It’s about knowing your limits, Anastasia. I mean, I'm all for pushing limits, but this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?”

“No, I’ve never been drunk before and right now I have no desire to ever be again,” she tells me contritely and I believe her.

Then she looks as if she is going to faint, so I quickly get hold of her and pick her up before she collapses. Even in the state she’s in, it feels good to have her in my arms. This is where you belong, baby.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” I tell her.

But she protests and insists that she needs to tell her friend Kate that she’s leaving, even though I assure her that my brother Elliot will tell her that she’s okay. She's clearly rather confused as she thought I was back in Seattle and asks how I found her.

“I tracked your cell phone, Anastasia.”

This seems to shock her. Yes, I am your stalker. Get used to it.

As she needs to collect her jacket and purse before we can leave, I reluctantly set her down and we make our way back into the club. I keep hold of her hand as she is still very drunk and weak.

Ana finds her things and asks a guy left sitting at the table where she can find Kate. The music is now pounding, and as she reaches up to shout in my ear her closeness does things to me – as she blushes I'm hoping she feels the same, but maybe it’s just the alcohol.

She tells me that Kate is on the dance floor – no doubt with Elliot.

Before we do anything else, I need Anastasia to drink plenty of water to counteract the effect of all the cheap alcohol she’s imbibed. I order her a very large glass of iced water and watch over her to make sure she drinks all of it. Does she not realize that dehydration is one of the main consequences of excessive consumption of alcohol? I run my hands through my hair in frustration at her foolishness.

Then I take her hand and we make our way to the dance floor, so that we can find her wretched friend and get out of this dump. The dance floor is very crowded, and the quickest way to get across is to dance – I’m a pretty hot dancer, another thing that I can thank Elena for, and actually it’s fun taking Ana in my arms and moving her across the floor, and at least this way I’m keeping her upright - she is still very drunk.

We find Kate and Elliot doing some pretty hot dirty dancing.

 “Tell Kate I've got Ana and I'm taking care of her. And for fuck’s sake make sure you use a condom tonight eh?” I shout in Elliot’s ear. He winks and grins salaciously as he pulls Kate into his arms, much to her obvious delight as she drapes herself around him seductively.

They’ve only just met, but if I know my brother, he’s sure as hell gonna be fucking her tonight.

So, now Anastasia and I can finally leave. But before we can make it outside, I feel her go limp. Christ, she’s passing out.

“Fuck!”

At least I manage to catch her before she hits the floor.

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.