27 April 2013

Chapter 60 - The Manipulator

“But I thought you said Leila was making good progress.”

 I’d asked Flynn to keep me advised of any developments regarding Leila, and so he was ringing to warn me that she had missed her last couple of art classes. No one had been able to make contact with her, not even her parents.

“Look, to be honest Christian, I’ve had my suspicions for a while that Leila was pulling the wool over the eyes of her therapist in the Hamden clinic she’s attending, because of the impressive, but to my mind unrealistically rapid progress, she seemed to be making. I warned them she was capable of very devious and manipulative behavior to get what she wanted. She even tried her level best to manipulate me, but as I’ve had extensive experience in handling cases such as hers, I knew how to respond appropriately. So I’m well aware that Leila is smart enough to realize that the sooner she appeared to be responding to treatment, the sooner they would ease back on monitoring her.  I’ve been concerned that Leila’s been telling them what they want to hear, and they were taking that at face value, rather than delving more deeply.”

“It seems she’s up to her old trick of topping from the bottom again,” I murmur.

 “Her therapist is patting himself on the back and insisting her improvement is all down to the success of his program, but I'm afraid I'm rather skeptical, taking into account how deep seated I believe her issues to be. Obviously, it’s difficult for me to be certain when I’m not consulting in person, but I supported her transfer to the East Coast as I agreed that it would be very good for her to have back up from her family.”

“Yeah, it seemed the right thing to do when she had no one here -  even her estranged husband wanted nothing to do with her, did he? But from what you’re saying, John, you seem to think she’s not really making the progress she’d have us all believe?”

“That’s right, Christian. What worries me is that until very recently, Leila has repeatedly been asking to meet with you, and despite the fact that all these requests have been denied, she has simply refused to accept that she has to get over her obsession with you in order to move  forward.”

“You think she might be planning on trying to see me? Is that what you think she’s up to, why she’s disappeared off the radar?”

“It’s a possibility that I thought you should be made aware of.”

“Do you think she could be a threat to Ana?  Or to herself?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t believe she ever had any serious suicidal intentions. My personal evaluation was that all her previous apparently threatening behavior could be put down to attention seeking. A cry for help, if you will. If she'd seriously wanted to harm Ana, she had numerous opportunities to do so, yet she chose not to. She simply used Ana to get your attention – and it worked. She must not be allowed to succeed again – it will only perpetuate such behavior.”

Thinking about the extreme stalker behavior Leila exhibited, I know he’s right. She broke into the apartment and concealed herself in order to spy on us, using knowledge she'd gleaned over three years ago when she was my sub. 

That’s a long time to hold onto those kinds of thoughts and plans. And not only did she manage to gain access to my apartment by obtaining copies of the keys to the fire escape, she somehow gained access to my safe, to remove and then plant the porn pictures somewhere she knew they’d be found and cause trouble.

And I can't forget that she also sabotaged Ana’s car, and even stole the keys to her apartment from her purse, probably while she was sleeping, then replaced them after she’d had a set cut so we wouldn’t realize they had ever gone missing. No doubt about it, that was really devious behavior. 

Flynn is right. Realistically, however much I want to believe that Leila is cured now, I know that level of obsessive behavior can't be cured virtually overnight. So the fact that no one knows where she is right now is not good news.

“Thanks for letting me know, John. I appreciate it. Let’s just hope there’s nothing sinister about Leila missing her art class, but I’ll let you know if anything develops, if she attempts to make contact with me at all.”

I call Taylor into my office, and fill him in with what I’ve just learned from Flynn. He doesn't appear in the least surprised.

“I had a funny feeling we’d not heard the last of the Williams woman,” he sighs. “She’s already on the proscribed list of visitors for Mrs. Grey, as well as the rest of your family, but I’ll make sure all members of the security team are apprised of this development, to ensure they're on full alert to the possibility of Miss Williams, or any of the other contacts you supplied details of, showing up.”

Ever since pictures of our wedding were spread all over the newspapers, in case that prompted any of my other previous subs to try and make contact with my wife, I’ve taken the precaution of adding all fifteen of their names to Ana’s proscribed visitors list. I don’t want to risk the possibility of any of them making contact with my wife, reminding her of my previous lifestyle.

So I can't fucking well believe my eyes when this email from Ana pops into my inbox while I’m at work:

From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Visitors
Date: September 6 2011 15:27
To: Christian Grey


Leila is here to see me. I will see her with Prescott.

I’ll use my newly acquired slapping skills with my now-healed hand, should I need to.

Try, and I mean try, not to worry.

I am a big girl.

Will call once we’ve spoken.

A x

Anastasia Grey
Editor, SIP

As I finish reading it, Taylor makes his way into my office, and like me, I can tell he is only just containing his fury.

“Sir, I have to advise you that I just got a message from Prescott and it seems that….” His voice trails off when he sees my face and realizes I'm already aware that a member of his team has fucked up big time.

“How the fuck has Miss Williams gained access to my wife, when I gave very clear and explicit instructions that she was not to be allowed anywhere near her? This should not have been possible. Mrs. Grey should not even be aware that Miss Williams had made any kind of an approach. What part of my instructions were not made clear enough to Prescott? Was she not aware of the heightened state of alert concerning this woman, the very same one that held my wife at gun point last time she saw her?”

“Of course she was, Mr. Grey, I personally briefed her on the matter. Unfortunately, it would seem that in her usual scheming manner, Miss Williams was aware of the security measures that had been put in place, so she waited until Prescott was on a rest room break before she entered the building and asked to see Mrs. Grey.”

“So Prescott was taking a piss? She was literally caught on the job with her pants down?”

“So it would seem, sir.” Taylor’s face has turned an unfetching shade of puce as he listens to my tirade, because he’s been made to look stupid and unprofessional by Prescott’s actions, one of his own handpicked team.

“But even if she was caught short, hadn't you or Welch or Prescott thought to brief the reception staff that any visitors requesting access to my wife had to wait to be cleared for access? That they must not, under any circumstances, allow anyone access to my wife without the express permission of her security officer? What is the fucking point of having a CPO in the building, if every time she feels the need to take a dump, the whole of fucking Seattle can casually wander in to see my wife if they feel like it?”

I am seething with anger at this lapse of security. Despite Flynn’s assurance, we cannot be sure that Leila hasn’t somehow procured another gun. Ana is now at risk, and even if the risk is minimal, this visit will stir up all the shit about my previous lifestyle, when I’d been working so hard to put it all behind us.  

And why did Ana agree to see Leila when she must know it is against my instructions? I thought she’d agreed not to be so fucking difficult and defiant, but it seems she just can't help herself.  

“Of course the reception staff have been fully briefed on the correct protocol, but it seems that on this occasion, it wasn’t followed correctly by the member of staff in question.”

I grab my cell to call Ana, to forbid her seeing Leila.

She doesn't pick up.

How fucking dare she ignore my call. I'm now even more furious, if that is possible.

Next I call her office and Hannah, her PA answers.

“Put me through to my wife. Now.”

“Oh… Mr. Grey… I… err… think she’s in a meeting…” Hannah stutters.

“I am very well aware that my wife is in a meeting, but I told you to put me through to her, so that’s what I expect you to do. Immediately. This minute. Do you understand?” I bark. 
I’ve been very restrained. I haven’t sworn at her.

“Yes, Mr. Grey. Of course. I’ll just go and interrupt her meeting, if you would just wait one moment…”

I sit and wait like a prize dick, fuming at how helpless I feel to control what is going down.

“Err.. Mr. Grey… I… umm… that is Mrs. Grey can't come to the phone right now. She sends her apologies and says that she will call you back very shortly.”

“She fucking well said what?”

“She said… she’ll… phone you back…. shortly…” Hannah just about manages to whisper back.

I hang up. It seems I'm completely surrounded by ineffectual morons.

Next I call Prescott’s phone, assuming from Ana’s email that she is in this meeting with my wife and Leila. At least she answers.

“Put my wife on the fucking phone. Now. This is not a request.”

“Yes, sir.” Prescott says, as her voice falters. She knows she’s history.

Finally I get to speak to Ana.

“Christian,” she says, her voice laced with exasperation, and I can tell she’s rolling her eyes.

“What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Don’t shout at me.”

“What do you mean don’t shout at you. I gave specific instructions which you have disregarded – again. Hell, Ana, I am fucking furious.”

“When you are calmer, we will talk about this,” she coolly insists.

“Don’t you hang up on me.”

“Goodbye Christian.”

The line goes dead. I try calling back, but the phone has been switched off.

Taylor has been quietly listening to my attempts to speak to my wife.

“I’ll bring the car round shall I sir?” He has correctly surmised that my next move will be to head directly to SIP’s offices.

“Yes, if you think you can possibly manage to do that successfully without fucking up,” I snarl.


As I walk through reception on my way to Ana’s office, I am taken aback to see Susannah, the last sub I had before I met Ana. I ignore her as she smiles and gives me a little wave from where she's sat. 

What the fuck is this, some sort of Christian Grey ex-sub convention? I have no idea why she is here, but there is no way in hell Prescott had any business letting either of them gain access to the building.

I walk into the meeting room where Hannah has indicated my wife is ensconced with her visitor and her fucking useless CPO.

“You. You’re fired. Get out now.” 

Prescott makes no argument. She knows the score.

“Christian,” Ana starts to protest, but I don’t want to hear it. Prescott is my employee, and she has failed monumentally in her duties, so she’s gone. End of story.

“Don’t.” I’m not taking any of Ana’s crap over this. Ana didn’t even like her, so I don’t know why she seems upset about it.

Prescott quietly leaves the room to join Taylor who is waiting just outside. He can deal with her. I have other matters to sort. I’ve had enough of Leila’s little games, when I have bent over backwards to get her the help she needs. I stand directly opposite her, noticing that she looks a lot healthier than she did the last time I saw her. I guess that’s something positive.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ana gasps at the brutal tone of my voice, but I ignore her to concentrate on Leila. She understands the D/s rules. She gets it. She knows she has displeased me.


“I wanted to see you, and you wouldn’t let me,” Leila whispers, as she peeks up at me through her lashes. I used to find that appealing. I don't any more.

“So you came here to harass my wife?”

Leila doesn’t answer, she just looks down instead, probably in some kind of denial that Ana is my wife.

“Leila, if you come anywhere near my wife again, I will cut off all support. Doctors, art school, medical insurance – all of it – gone. Do you understand?”

Leila has to comprehend that I'm sick of all her manipulative little games. She has had every possible support and help that she could want, and yet here she is again, stirring things up. I am making it clear that I will not continue as her sympathetic benefactor if she attempts to disrupt my marriage in any way again.

“Christian…” Ana tries to butt in again, but I throw her a look to tell her to just shut the fuck up. This is not her concern. I'm laying this on the line to Leila for once and for all.

“Yes,” Leila whispers.

“What’s Susannah doing in reception?”

“She came with me.”

Elena used to arrange a handover between my old and new subs to ensure they understood my requirements perfectly to minimize the transition period, but I hadn't realized any of them had become friends. Why would I? I was never that involved in any of their personal lives.

“Christian, please. Leila just wants to say thank you. That’s all,” Ana tries to argue.

So that’s Leila’s angle is it? Using gratitude as an excuse to harass my wife again.

“Did you stay with Susanna while you were sick?”


“Did she know what you were doing while you were staying with her?”

“No. She was away on vacation.”

I’ll get that checked out, because I would have expected Susannah to have contacted either me or Elena if she'd had any concerns about Leila’s mental state. At least it explains where Leila was hanging out, when she seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth while we were trying to track her down. It never occurred to me that she might have been with any of the other girls. I didn’t think she had any friends.

“Why do you need to see me? You know you should send any requests through Flynn. Do you need something?”

Has there been any kind of breakdown in communication that I’m unaware of, that might explain her motives?

“I had to know.” Leila turns her brown eyes on me.

“Had to know what?” I snap, sensing she’s still trying to inveigle her way back into my affections.

“That you’re okay.”

“That I’m okay?”


How fucking dare she assume she has a right to meddle in my life under the pretext of being concerned about me.

“I’m fine. There, question answered. Now Taylor will run you to Sea-Tac so you can go back to the East Coast. And if you take one step west of the Mississippi, it’s all gone. Understand?”

“Yes. I understand,” Leila murmurs.

“Good.” At least she’s not putting up any kind of a fight. Unlike my errant wife of course, who feels a compulsion to argue.

“It might not be convenient for Leila to go back now. She has plans,” she states, as she glares at me. What? This is the woman who held you at gunpoint, remember?

“Anastasia, this does not concern you,” I glare back.

“Leila came to see me, not you,” she stubbornly insists. Are you really that stupid? Leila used you in order to get to see me.

“I had my instructions, Mrs. Grey. I disobeyed them.” Leila sides with me against my wife. Clever, manipulative move. 

“This is the Christian Grey I know.”

I frown at the insinuation that she knows me better than my wife
“I’d like to stay until tomorrow. My flight is at noon,” Leila says quietly.

That’s fine by me if it means she’ll go quietly.

“I’ll have someone collect you at ten to take you to the airport.” And they will be making sure you actually leave.

“Thank you.”

“You’re at Susannah’s?” I confirm. I have her address on file, so we’ll know where to pick her up from.



“Goodbye Mrs. Grey. Thank you for seeing me.” Then the women actually shake hands. How fucking nice and civilized.

“Goodbye, Christian.”

“Goodbye, Leila. Dr. Flynn, remember?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I open the door for Leila to leave, but she halts. Fuck. I knew she was giving in too easily. 

“I'm glad you’re happy. You deserve to be,” is her parting shot, before Taylor escorts her out. She had to have the final word. 

That leaves just Ana and me in the room. And if I ever thought she might be apologetic for going against my instructions, boy was I mistaken. But how can she possibly argue that it is unreasonable of me to want to protect her from the woman who held her at gunpoint?

She lays into me about how Prescott was only obeying her instructions, that she couldn’t remember me issuing a papal bull decreeing that she couldn’t see Leila, and how I hadn't told her that her visitors were subject to a proscribed list. 

She’s really pretty animated on the subject, and fuck me if my wife doesn’t look really hot and sexy when she gets on her high horse like this. And after dealing with Leila’s underhand tricks and slyness, Ana's straight forward reaction is like a breath of fresh air.

“Papal bull?” I ask, amused.

But Ana stubbornly refuses to let it go, even though Leila has now been taken care of. I know Taylor will personally be ensuring she is on that plane tomorrow, and that she will not be causing any further problems before she heads off. She has proved a thorn in his side once too often for him to take any further nonsense from her.

Ana wants to know why I was so cold and callous towards Leila. Seriously? She has to ask? So I spell it out. Anastasia is the most precious being in my entire universe. Therefore, I don’t want the woman who held her at gunpoint anywhere near her.

“But Christian, she was ill,” she argues.

“I know that, and I know she’s better now, but I'm not giving her the benefit of the doubt anymore. What she did was unforgivable.”

“But you just played right into her hands. She wanted to see you again, and she knew you’d come running if she came to see me.”

So if Ana’s worked that much out, why can't she see how manipulative the rest of Leila’s behavior is? I don’t want to clarify any further, in fact I don’t want to discuss Leila, or Susannah or anything to do with my previous lifestyle. 

I don’t want my beautiful new life with my beautiful new wife tainted with any of my old sick shit. It’s all in the past, and that’s where I want it all left.

But Ana doesn't see it like that, as she argues that my past has made me the man I am today, she accepted that when she married me, as she continues to defend Leila.

“She didn’t hurt me. She loves you too.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” I just want this over and done with. Finished. Subject closed.

Ana gapes at me in shock. She keeps on at me, arguing that I'm not the heartless bastard I claim to be, that I do care about Leila and that’s why I pay for her medical care and art classes.

I don’t know about care for her – I feel guilty that my harsh treatment of her may have made her underlying condition worse, even if I had no idea at the time. Point is, if I had been the kind of caring individual Ana seems to think I am, I would have noticed, wouldn’t I? And paying for  Leila’s care is hardly a hardship for a man as wealthy as I am. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s late afternoon now, and neither of us is going to get any productive work done, so I suggest we head home together.

“It’s too early,” Ana mutters sullenly.

“Home.” I insist. We can have some great sex to reconnect when we get back, it’s the best way to take out my frustration on my errant wife. Sex on my terms, of course.

“Christian, I'm tired of having the same argument with you.”

I don’t understand - we don’t argue about Leila all the time, so what does she mean?

“You know. I do something you don’t like, and you think of some way to get back at me usually involving some of your kinky fuckery, which is either mind-blowing or cruel,” she shrugs.

Now she’s got my attention.

“What was mind-blowing?” 

Kinky fuckery is a topic I'm more than happy to discuss with my wife, especially if it distracts her from the subject of my feelings for my ex subs.

“You know,” she sweetly blushes. Ana still gets shy about talking dirty.

“I can guess,” I whisper as I smile, my mind running through all the possible scenarios she could be referring to. I never forget any details of the great fucks I share with my wife, in fact I’d say I have a photographic memory of them stored away for future reference. “I like to please you.”

“You do,” she whispers back.

“I know, it’s the one thing I do know.” Whatever else I may be, I do know that I am a Master at sex. I always ensure my wife has a truly great orgasm, if that’s what I've chosen to give her. I know her body better than she does. 

Right now, I can see that Ana is trying to make out she’s not affected by the thought of us having sex, but the ever present chemistry between us means that she just can't help herself. She wants me just as much as I want her.

“What was mind-blowing, Anastasia?”

“You want the list?”

“There’s a list?” So many great fucks she needs a list eh? Good job, Grey.

“Well, the handcuffs.”

I take her hand to look at the delicate paper thin skin of her wrist. I'm never using those spiteful handcuffs on her again. The evidence of their effectiveness on her skin still haunts me. 

“I don’t want to mark you.” But there are plenty of other options, as I'm only too willing to show you. “Come home.”

“I have work to do.”


As we gaze at each other, I can feel myself getting aroused, and I decide I’d be quite happy to take my wife right here, right now. Why not? There’s a lock on the door. It would add to the growing list of places we’ve had sex, although I would prefer to take her in her actual office rather than this meeting room. 

It would be my way of marking it, establishing myself here, so that every time she worked at the desk where we'd fucked, she’d remember me, remember how good we are together, that she is mine, she is my wife, that she belongs to me and only me. 

But this meeting room is good too. I can handle having sex in here. I can give my wife a great orgasm right here, have her screaming with pleasure in just a matter of minutes. 

“We could stay here.”

“Christian, I don’t want to have sex here. Your mistress has just been in this room.”

I come crashing back down to earth from my desk sex fantasy.

“She was never my mistress,” I growl.

“That’s just semantics, Christian.

“Don’t over think this, Ana. She’s history.”

But Ana is thinking, and as I watch her face, I can see that something is worrying her, eating at her. I kiss her sweet lips to try and bring her out of whatever it is.

“Oh Christian, you scare me sometimes,” she finally says, as she twists her fingers in my hair and pulls me down to return my kiss. I take her in my arms to try and reassure her.


“Because if you could turn away from her so easily…”

“You think I might turn away from you, Ana? Why the hell would you think that? What’s brought this on?”

“Nothing. Kiss me. Take me home,” she pleads.


My wife is very stubborn and persistent. Even after really great mind blowing sex in our bed at home, where I am in total control of her pleasure, she is still going on about me caring.

“I want you to admit that you care. Because the Christian I know and love would care.”

This is obviously a very important matter to her, so although I'm very tempted to just brush her concerns aside and evade answering her, I realize I mustn’t, otherwise it is just going to keep festering in her mind, get blown out of all proportion and become far more important than it should. 

All because of manipulative Leila. I cannot afford to let that happen. But it’s hard, because I don’t want to admit to feeling anything before Ana. She’s the one who has brought me to life. No one else. Only her.

“Yes. Yes, I care. Happy?” I finally admit, just to shut her up.

“Yes. Very,” Ana smiles, clearly relieved.

“I can't believe I'm talking to you now, here in our bed, about…”

Ana silences me by putting her finger on my lips.

“We’re not. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

“You beguile and bewilder me, Mrs. Grey,” I sigh, as I shake my head, thankful that finally she seems to be closing the subject.

“Good,” she says, as she sweetly kisses my lips.

At least I seem to have said the right thing to reassure her, although I'm still confused as to why whether or not I cared about someone in the past is so important to her. 

Anastasia  is the love of my life, and always will be. Surely she understands that by now?

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. 

13 April 2013

Chapter 59 - Chillaxing In Aspen

After my late night call with Elliot, and several emails sent in the early hours of the morning when I couldn’t sleep, our trip to Aspen goes ahead.

Ana seems delighted when she discovers my surprise guests of Kate, Elliot, Mia and Ethan on board the jet. She said she wanted to see more of her friends, and I want my wife to have whatever she wants, so I’m bringing friends with us on our trip. This way I can relax, happy in the knowledge that this arrangement makes for a far more secure and controlled environment for her to socialize in.

I love making my wife laugh and smile, and so I'm glad we’re getting away for the weekend after the extremely stressful events of the last few days. It’s only about a two hour flight, and I’ve always liked Aspen, ever since my parents took us there for the skiing when we were kids. 

Owning an Aspen property was one of the targets I set myself to prove that I had joined the ranks of the super wealthy, along with owning my own helicopter, private jet and boat. The fact that I’ve not had the time to use this place since I acquired it is an indication of how much time I still spend on generating even more wealth. I am never going to be poor or hungry again, and neither is my beloved wife now.

Taylor is happy about our trip to Aspen too, as the paparazzi in Seattle have been making life hell for his security team. Now that the whereabouts of both Leila and Hyde are no longer of concern, Aspen is a great location for us to head to, especially as part of the extensive refurb that was carried out on my house was to have a state of the art security system installed. Even so, Taylor’s organized his security connections in Aspen to carry out a sweep of my property in advance of our arrival, as well as a full threat assessment and a comprehensive but low key security plan. The worry is that Hyde could possibly have an accomplice.

Since Elliot has told me that he wants to marry Kate, for his sake I’m trying my hardest to at least tolerate my potential future sister-in-law, however much she grates on me. Even so, I have to keep my temper in check, because before we’ve even taken off, Kate wastes no time in quizzing me about Hyde, and then works out for herself that he very possibly has an accomplice.

No doubt about it, she’s a very bright girl, but she’s also very thoughtless. She appears to have no tact or consideration for Ana’s feelings, as my wife looks at me in horror at Kate’s words. After everything she’s been through, I hadn't wanted Ana worried unnecessarily on this matter of an accomplice, but her brash journalist friend, so eager to get to the bottom of a good story, hasn’t given that aspect of things the slightest consideration.

Kate’s words start a whole new thought process for Ana, who leaps to the conclusion that Elena could be involved, just because of how much she loathes her I guess. But I’m sure she’s not, and knowing how deadly the whole Elena topic is, I shut down that conversation before it can get out of hand and spoil my plans for a happy and relaxed weekend.


Once we arrive, Taylor drives us to the house in a hastily arranged VW minivan. I see Ana looking out of the window as we drive through the streets. Aspen is an attractive, characterful old mining town with lots of smart shops, and I hope she’s going to like the place as much as I do, because then we can come here whenever we like and make better use of the house.

However, I can't deny the thought of Ana learning to ski fills me with dread, because it can be such a dangerous sport when you don’t know what you’re doing. Perhaps skiing won't be her thing, but the way she’s taken to sailing and soaring, I suspect my wife will love skiing just as much as I do. I’ll just have to insist she sticks to the less challenging and safer nursery slopes on West Buttermilk Mountain if she goes ahead and wants to learn to ski.

“Home,” I mouth to Ana as we finally arrive at the house. I really like this place, and I want her to feel at home here, so that she can really relax and unwind.

My housekeeper, Carmella Bentley, is waiting to greet us. She already knows Mia and Elliot, as they have actually used this place more than I have in the two years I've owned it. I proudly introduce my wife, using her full name – Anastasia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.  I love the fact that she is now Anastasia Grey. Mine. My wife.

Ana’s taken by surprise when I suddenly pick her up and carry her over the threshold. Tradition dictates that to avoid a lifetime of bad luck and evil spirits, a new wife must never trip or fall as she enters her new home. With Ana’s knack for tripping and falling, I’m definitely happy to carry her over the threshold of every single new home we go to.

Ana  is very quiet and subdued as I show her round our very impressive house. I'm reminded all over again that this level of affluence is way beyond anything she’d experienced before she met me, and she’s still getting used to it. I have to constantly remind her that it is our money, our house, not just mine as she keeps referring to everything. I want to share everything I have with her, because otherwise it is all pointless and meaningless.

We end up in the master bedroom, where she stands looking out at the impressive view of Ajax or Aspen Mountain. She relaxes a little as we talk about Elliot - she asks if I knew about his fling with Gia Matteo, information no doubt gleaned from Kate.

I consider for a moment leaving Ana under the illusion that Elliot is the nice, kind, sweet boy  he appears to be on first acquaintance. He is such a master at it, when he really is such a badboy underneath that act– or at least he has been up until now. It appears that Kate is about to put an end to those ways, which is one of the reasons I can tolerate her – I've always worried about the fact that Elliot slept around so casually, putting himself at risk. So, if she can tame him and get him to act more responsibly, then I’ll put up with her.

I decide to go with honesty.

“Elliot’s fucked most of Seattle, Ana. Mainly women, I understand.”

Ana’s face is a picture of shocked surprise. He obviously had my naïve wife completely fooled.

“No!” she gasps in disbelief.

“It’s none of my business.” I hold my hands up, not prepared to elaborate any further.

Despite this little distraction, Ana still seems ill at ease and unsettled, and I'm worried she doesn’t like the house

“This can't be about Gia’s or Elliot’s promiscuity.” I probe.

“I know. I'm sorry. After all that’s happened this week, it’s just…”

It’s okay, I can see she’s still in some sort of shock, still recovering from everything that’s happened. This I can understand and relate to. This is exactly why we need a weekend of unwinding and relaxing together. Chillaxing, as Elliot would say.

I pull her into my arms to hold her tightly.

“Goes some way to explain why he’s always teasing you,” she murmurs, as she nuzzles into my chest. At least now she’ll get where Elliot’s coming from.

“He really has no idea about my past. I told you, my family assumed I was gay. Celibate, but gay.”

Ana seems to find this amusing as she starts giggling.

“I thought you were celibate. How wrong I was.”

“Mrs. Grey, are you smirking at me?”

“Maybe a little,” she concedes. “You know, what I don’t understand is why you have this place.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have the boat, which I get, you have the place in New York for business – but why here? It’s not like you shared it with anyone?”

As usual, Ana has got right to the heart of the matter. So, what did I have in mind once I’d achieved my goal of owning a property here in Aspen? Just let it sit empty all year round, as I never actually took a proper vacation since I started up my company, just the odd day here and there to go sailing or soaring?

I think deep down I always knew there was something missing from my life, but I never dared or hoped to believe that I would find out what it was, or that I would ever find it.

But I did.

By some miracle, by some divine intervention, Ana was sent into my life to turn my world upside down, but at the same time make sense of everything.

She was the missing piece.

Anastasia has made my life whole.

“I was waiting for you,” I say softly, and I'm rewarded by one of Ana’s beautiful smiles.

“That’s… that’s such a lovely thing to say,” she whispers, as  her eyes light up with happiness.

“It’s true. I didn’t know it at the time,” I smile back.

“I'm glad you waited.”

“You are worth waiting for, Mrs. Grey.” I kiss her tenderly.

“So are you. Though I feel like I cheated. I didn’t have to wait long for you at all.”

“Am I that much of a prize?” I grin at her.

“Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer and the three wishes from Aladdin's lamp all rolled into one. When will you realize this? You were a very eligible bachelor. And I don’t mean all this.” 

She waves her hand around at our surroundings. “I mean in here. Believe me, Christian, please.” She places her hand over my heart, and then pulls my head down to kiss me.

Ana thinks I have a good heart. She’s wrong, but she is working her special magic on me to try her best to make me into a better man. I don’t deserve it, but her love is the healing balm that will soothe and cure my inherent wickedness.

“When are you going to get it through your exceptionally thick skull that I love you?” she asks, exasperated as she can see I'm still skeptical.

“One day,” I murmur.

One day, as long as I don’t drive her away before she can complete the transformation. 


The weather takes a turn for the worse as it starts raining, so after lunch, the girls head off to do some shopping, while the boys do ‘outdoor boring stuff’ according to Mia. Ana insists I should go fishing – I think she wants me to have some male bonding time, although I could quite happily have come up with some ideas to occupy the time with my wife.

But it will be good for Ana to go shopping with the girls, and I'm sure Mia will have great fun encouraging my wife to buy something outrageously expensive in one of the exclusive little boutiques that Aspen specializes in. It will do Ana good – she needs to get used to being able to spend our money freely on anything that takes her fancy. It’s what I want her to do.

I insist that Taylor will accompany them, and am pleased when Ana overrules Kate’s rude assertion that they don’t need babysitting. Maybe she has learnt something from the whole cocktail drinking debacle, which pleases me.

Elliot makes an excuse that he needs to go into town to get a watch battery, but I know he has another agenda. He wants to buy Kate’s engagement ring. I tell him to take the Audi, and we’ll go fishing when he gets back.


In the end, Elliot calls to say we should go fishing without him. He wants to take his time choosing the right ring for Kate, and then he’ll probably need to wait while they resize it– he thinks he has a good idea on size because he’s secretly taken along another of her. 

He needs the ring for tonight, because at some point he’s planning to get down on one knee and propose. No one else has a clue that he has this planned, least of all Kate, so it should be an interesting evening.

“I know she really likes retro Victorian jewelry, so that’s the style I’m going for. I’ve seen a couple I think she’d really like and I’m just trying to choose between them,” he explains.

“No worries. You take all the time you need. Ethan and I will see you later.”

“Cool. Yeah, laters,” he replies.

So it’s just me and Kate’s brother who head off in the black flatbed truck for some fly fishing in the Roaring Fork Valley.

I can definitely see the family resemblance between Ethan and Kate. Both have strawberry blonde hair; both have green eyes; both are quite tall.

As an aspiring journalist, Kate is undoubtedly her press magnate father’s daughter, and what I want to know is if Ethan has the same tenacious drive and somewhat unpleasant directness that will make his sister a very good reporter. If he does, I can't see that he and Mia will get along, however much she may be attracted to this young man’s undoubted good looks. This is the trouble with my little sister – she can be rather shallow at times, placing a lot of importance on looks and physical attraction.

But Ethan seems to be playing hard to get, so I want to know what his intentions towards Mia are. At least the background check I had Welch run on him came up squeaky clean – no hint of any drug or alcohol abuse, no driving citations, nothing, not so much as a parking ticket.

When I knew Ethan was coming for the weekend, I instructed Mrs. Bentley to prepare separate rooms for him and Mia, but that’s not to say they will necessarily remain alone in those rooms for the entire night. Much as I hate it, I have to face the fact that my baby sister is a fully grown, very beautiful, adult young woman, of a similar age to my own young wife. As much as I’d like to, I can’t lock her away in her bedroom alone.

But there’s no way I’m forcing matters by assuming Mia and Ethan will be sleeping – or not sleeping as the case may be – together tonight.

Even Elliot agrees with me when it comes to our baby sister. Despite his usually somewhat laid back morals, he is also fiercely protective towards Mia. However, he seems to think Ethan is a decent guy, so that reassures me, and why I agreed to invite him along for this weekend trip.

Ethan and I start off by discussing the fishing.

“Have you done much fly fishing around these parts before?” I inquire as  I drive.

“Yeah, my dad and I have spent quite a lot of time together fishing around here. It’s one of his favorite hobbies. He always says it’s the contemplative man’s recreation.”

“Izaak Walton,” I grin, recognizing the quote.

Ethan’s father appears to be a man after my own heart, as I've always found fishing a very good time to do some thinking, while I'm pitting my wits against the forces of nature and trying to outwit the fish. My father introduced me to fly fishing when I was quite young, I think because he knew it was a sport that would suit my solitary nature.

“So, what flies are you planning to use? Have you checked the hatch chart?” I ask Ethan, and we spend some time discussing the merits of the different bait and then the casting techniques we prefer. It seems young Kavanagh knows his fishing,  so I guess he can't be all bad.

 “Are you planning to join your father’s empire? I understand you’ve had a year off travelling since you graduated last year.”

I want to know more about Ethan. At least he has experienced different cultures, and I respect that -  travel broadens the mind, so they say.

“No, I think I’ll leave all that to my sister, media’s much more her thing. It’s no secret that my father would love nothing better than to have me take over the family business one day and head up Kavanagh Media, it’s not the direction I want to head in,” he states firmly.

I glance over at Ethan with new respect. It takes a lot of guts to stand up to a man like Edward Kavanagh.

“So what do you want to do?” I ask curiously.

“Well, I’ve been accepted into the psych course at Seattle – I’m doing my  Master of Arts in Psychology. My father wasn’t too happy about it, so I’m funding it by drawing on my trust fund now that I've come of age. It’s a two year course, and I'll be working part time to fit around my lectures, doing an internship or practicum in one of the areas I want to specialize in.”

“Sounds pretty full on. So, what is your ultimate goal?”

“Eventually, once I’ve gained my license, I want to set up my own practice as a fully qualified psychotherapist. I’m still deciding on the area I want to specialize in, but the Seattle course appealed to me because it is an Existential Phenomenological Therapeutic Program.”

So Ethan could end up being another John Flynn. How interesting.
But now I need to cut to the chase. We’ve reached our destination, and once we’re out on the river concentrating on our fishing, it won't be as easy to talk. So as I pull up and turn off the truck engine, I turn to face Ethan and read his face.

“What are your intentions towards my sister?” I ask him bluntly.

He blinks for a moment and raises his eyebrows.

“I really like Mia, she’s a very special girl, but….” He sighs and rubs his forehead.


“But the timing is all wrong. Mia’s used to a very affluent and comfortable lifestyle, and I’ve got a long road ahead of me before I can set myself up in practice and hope to earn anything like a decent living. And I refuse to sponge off my father. I want to make my own way in life, not dance to his tune just to have a nice comfortable lifestyle. So it doesn't seem fair to start something potentially serious with Mia when I have nothing to offer her, not at the moment anyway. And I can't mess her around and expect a beautiful girl like her to wait at least another couple of years, can I?” He sighs deeply again. “But I really like her.  She’s so funny, so kind, so…  Mia. I've never met anyone like her. And it’s difficult, because our paths are going to keep crossing because of Kate being with Elliot, so unless they break up, which seems unlikely as I know Kate is totally head over heels in love with the guy,  Mia and I are inevitably going to keep seeing each other.”

“Have you talked to Mia about any of this?” I ask.

“I’ve tried, but Mia doesn’t seem to understand the realities of the situation. She says money’s not important, and that she has money of her own we could live on until I get myself established, but I'm sure as hell not taking hand outs from her or from anyone,” he states stubbornly. The glint in his eye reminds me of his sister Kate when she sets her mind on something.

“So you’d put your pride before my sister’s happiness?” I ask, as I study his face intently. His head shoots up at my words.

“Is that how you see it?” he asks, shocked.

I shrug.

“Just calling it how I see it, Ethan. Let me ask you this. How would you feel if Mia accepted that there was no possible future for the two of you, moved on and started seeing another guy. What if you had to keep seeing her with this other guy? Could you accept that, knowing that you might have been able to work at some sort of compromise with her? Might you regret not being able to swallow some of that stubborn pride, just to see if things might have worked out between you?”

Ethan groans and holds his head in his hands.

“That would be my worst nightmare. I’d want to kill any other fucker who got near enough to lay a finger on her,” he growls.

I grin. This guy is talking my language. This I can totally relate to. Not that I can quite believe I actually seem to be playing fucking cupid for my baby sister and Ethan. Me, the relationship counselor. Flynn would be proud of me – I think, anyway?

“Come on, Kavanagh. Let’s go fish. Use the time for some of that contemplative recreation your father was talking about.”


On our return, I find Ana out in the garage with Kate and Elliot for some reason. Straight away Ana notices that under my wading jacket, I'm wearing the blue coveralls she sold me in Claytons. Yeah,  I kept them because I'm sentimental – it’s not a crime, is it? And anyway, they are very practical, with lots of useful pockets.

That seems a lifetime ago, although it is only a few short months. I think it must have been love at first sight with Ana, even though I didn’t know it at the time. It’s the only explanation of why I acted so out of character to go chasing after her all the way down to Portland, hanging around like a lovesick puppy, fooling myself that I was in control of my emotions.

Looking back, I think Taylor probably knew the writing was on the wall for me when I overslept that time in Ana’s apartment and had to walk the walk of shame when I turned up late for my breakfast meeting, unshaven and in my jeans and T shirt from the night before – an unheard of occurrence up until then. Probably explained the smug look on his face.

When Elliot tells me he tried to tempt my wife to take a ride, as he smirks at me, I realize he’s referring to the trail bikes I have in the garage. Elliot and I took them out a couple of times when I first got the house and he was over here doing the refurb – it was good fun, but pretty risky. 

The thought of Ana riding one of those dangerous things nearly gives me a heart attack, but seeing the look of horror on my face, Elliot goes on to say that Ana declined as she’d said I wouldn’t like it. So that’s another instance of Ana being considerate of my feelings, after standing up to Kate earlier. I’m impressed – she really seems to be making an effort.

But Ana never ceases to surprise me.

“You can ride a motorcycle?”

“Not very well. Ethan taught me.”

Although I know Ethan’s interest now lies elsewhere, I still don’t like the thought of him having spent time getting close to my wife while he was  teaching her how to ride a trail bike. But I have to accept that she can't change her past any more than I can change mine.

“You made the right decision. The ground's very hard at the moment, and the rain’s made it very treacherous and slippery.” I tell her. I’d have been seriously displeased if I’d found out she’d been riding a trail bike.

“Where do you want the fishing gear?” Ethan calls out.

“Leave it, Ethan – Taylor will take care of it.”

“What about the fish?”

“You caught a fish?” Ana asks in surprise. Well, we did go fishing, didn’t we?

“Not me. Kavanagh did.” I pretend to be upset as I pout, making Ana laugh. Truth is, there is always an element of luck as well as skill in these matters, and today his choice of fly proved more effective than mine.

“Mrs. Bentley will deal with that,” I tell him. “Am I amusing you, Mrs. Grey?”

“Very much so. You’re wet. Let me run you a bath,” she suggests.

“As long as you join me,” I reply, as I kiss her.


The bath that Ana prepares for us has to wait while I make love to my wife – good job it’s a wet room.

Whenever we are apart for a few hours, we both feel a need to reconnect as soon as we are together again. That’s just the way it is between us.

It’s the sweetest of sweet vanilla sex between us this time.

It seems incredible to me now that I could ever have thought vanilla would be boring.

I love watching Ana’s face as I let my cock slowly sink into her silky depths. I love seeing her look of contented bliss and pure pleasure. I love looking into her beautiful eyes as she flies over the edge into the orgasm I give her. I love feeling her relax against my chest afterwards, sated and satisfied by our love making.

I love vanilla sex with my wife.


‘Does My Butt Look Big in This?’

That’s the subject of the  email I get from my wife on my cell.  Ana has been gone for ages upstairs with Kate, who’s helping her get ready after declaring that she should try out a new look with her hair and makeup for our evening out.

I think maybe Kate’s avoiding Elliot, as things seem pretty tense between them right now, but hopefully things will get sorted once Elliot has gone ahead and proposed sometime this evening. He’s got the ring he bought safely stashed away in his pocket, but I can tell he’s on edge, because he’s still not sure that Kate is going to say yes. 

I’ll be very surprised if she turns him down, although with women you can never be sure, especially one as strong willed as Kate.

So it seems my wife wants my sartorial advice. I’m sure her very delectable butt will look absolutely perfect in the dress she bought this afternoon, but as I tell her in my reply, I'm more than happy to give it a very thorough examination, so I head on upstairs straight away.


I can't quite believe my eyes when I see Ana standing there waiting for me. My wife has been transformed from her normal sweet, beautiful, sexy-yet-innocent looking self, into a high priestess of sexual allure and vampiness.  I can tell by the nervous expression on her face that she is worried about my reaction, as she has every reason to be.

Her silver backless dress is so short that it’s barely decent, and with those wonderful fuck-me high heeled Manolos, her legs look incredibly long and even sexier than usual.

But it’s her hair and makeup that make her look so different.

Her chestnut hair has been straightened and back combed, to make it look very full and Barbie like.

And normally, Ana only wears very light makeup, or none at all.

But now, her eyes have been emphasized by so much heavy kohl, that they look enormous. That, along with the bright red scarlet lipstick, mean that she almost looks like a whore, and part of me wants to order her to go and wash it off right now this second.

But part of me is incredibly turned on, imagining those sexy scarlet red, full, pouty lips tightly fixed around my cock while she sucks me off,  with those big, heavily made up eyes turned to obediently gaze up at me.

So I resist the urge.

There is no way on this earth that I would ever let my wife go out by herself looking like this. But asking me to come and check out her appearance means that she has sought my approval, and that pleases me greatly.

And as I will be by her side the whole time this evening, and will get to watch her and let my imagination go wild about what I'm going to do with her when we get back, I decide to allow it. I will grant her permission to go out looking like this, just on this occasion. But first I need to make a few things clear.

I stand behind as I turn her to look in the full length mirror. There is so much of her naked back on show, and the skirt of the dress is nothing more than a narrow band that just about covers that delicious ass of hers.

“This is very revealing.”

We both watch in the mirror as I trail my finger tips down her naked back, over her the curve of her lovely bottom, down to her naked thigh. The dress is too short for her to wear stockings, so her legs are bare, and that means the only barrier preventing my property from being exposed are her tiny panties and the barely-there dress.

“It’s not far from here, to here,” I demonstrate as I first touch the hem of her dress, and then the tiny fabric of her panties that nestles softly between her legs.

“And your point is?” she whispers.

“My point is…it’s not far from here,” I murmur, as I slip a finger inside her panties, “…to here. And then…to here.” I slip my finger inside her moist depths, making her gasp and then mewl in surprise.

“This is mine,” I tell her, as I close my eyes, and savor the feeling of slowly finger fucking my wife. “I don’t want anyone else to see this.”

I know this is really turning Ana on as she watches me in the mirror, because her panting is matching the rhythm of my finger moving in and out of her. Christ, I have such a raging hard on I could just take her right now, but as my brother and sister are waiting for us downstairs ready to leave, I  have to postpone that pleasure. Delayed gratification and all that shit.

“So be a good girl and don’t bend down, and you should be fine,” I tell her.

Ana looks shocked.

“You approve?”

“No, but I'm not going to stop you from wearing it. You look stunning, Anastasia.”

I suddenly withdraw my finger and move round to face her, then place the tip of the finger that has just been fucking her on her lower lip. I grin as Ana kisses my finger , and then I slip my finger in my mouth. Hell, my wife tastes so fucking good.

“Come,” I say as I take her hand and lead her downstairs.


Later that evening, as I talk with Ethan in the restaurant while we wait for our dessert, I can't help noticing that Mia is looking at the kid as if she’d rather devour him than any dessert. It seems my baby sister has got it bad, so I hope Ethan makes up his mind about which way he wants things to go between them sooner rather than later. 

Anyhow, I’m glad I've gotten a chance to get to know him this weekend, because Mia could do a lot worse than him, as my gut feeling tells me he will make a very good psychologist – and I should know, seeing as I’ve had dealings with more than my fair share of shrinks over the years.

I also think Ethan would be good for Mia, because already he is standing up to her and not allowing her to walk all over him by dictating how things should be. I know my sister well enough to understand that Mia would not respect a man that was too soft and compliant. My sister needs a firm hand, and I think Ethan might just be the young man to give her that. Time will tell.

I glance at my watch. Mia wants us to go clubbing next, so just as I'm thinking that Elliot had better get on with proposing or he’ll have missed his chance, I see him standing up, pushing his chair out of the way, so that he can get down on one knee. Silence descends over the whole place, as everyone watches with bated breath. Elliot reaches to take Kate’s hand in his.

“My beautiful Kate, I love you. Your grace, your beauty, and your fiery spirit have no equal, and you have captivated my heart. Spend your life with me. Marry me.”

The longest moment in history passes, as Elliot stares tensely at Kate, waiting for her answer. Clearly she had no idea whatsoever that he was going to propose, and for once in her life, Miss Katherine Kavanagh is lost for words.

Then a tear slowly trickles down her cheek, and she smiles back at Elliot.

“Yes,” she whispers, and I see Elliot finally relax and start smiling. I think we all heave a collective sigh of relief, thankful that she has put him out of his misery.

The whole restaurant erupts with applause and cheering and catcalls and whooping. I glance at Ana, and see that she has tears rolling down her cheeks, smudging her mascara.

For Elliot and Kate, it is obvious that no one else exists as they gaze into each other’s eyes. It’s a joy to see them so happy, as Elliot reaches into his pocket to produce the box with the engagement ring in.

Kate throws her arms around Elliot's neck, and then they kiss, as everyone in the restaurant looks on and cheers. My brother, ever the goofy clown, stands to take a bow as he grins broadly. Then he sits down and takes the ring out of the box to slide it onto Kate’s finger as they kiss again. I’ve never seen my brother look so happy, so that makes me happy too.

 Ana has been so caught up in the drama, that she has been clutching my hand really tightly without realizing it.

“Ow,” I mouth at her when she finally lets go.

“Sorry. Did you know about this?” she whispers.

I just smile at her, and I think she guesses that I did, but hopefully understands that I had to keep my brother’s trust by not revealing his plans to anyone, not even her. Ana would have found it hard not to have inadvertently given something away to her best friend if she had been aware of Elliot's plans.

I order some Cristal 2002 champagne for us all to celebrate, as everybody flocks round the happy couple.

Ana and Kate hug and kiss, as an emotional Kate sobs and laughs at the same time.

I shake Elliot's hand and then catch him by surprise as I pull him into a hug, because these days, thanks to the Ana effect, I can do things like this. I actually feel able to show my dear brother how happy I am for him.

“Way to go, Lelliot,” I say quietly.

“Thanks, Christian,” Elliot mumbles in shock, as he returns my hug.

For years, even after I eventually started talking, I struggled to say my brother’s name properly, and Lelliot was the nearest I could get to it. My mom and dad were so thrilled that I was saying anything at all that they never attempted to correct me, and so for many years my brother was Lelliot.

Despite how difficult it must have been for him, he has always been the best of brothers to me, and I'm so happy that this evening has turned out as he wished. For him, I will do my best to get along with Kate, because I can see how happy she makes him. I give her a brief hug too.

“I hope you are as happy in your marriage as I am in mine,” I say quietly, as I smile at Ana.

“Thank you, Christian. I hope so too.”

Once everyone has a flute of champagne, I raise a toast.

“To Kate and my dear brother, Elliot – congratulations.”


We head off to the most exclusive nightclub in Aspen – Zax.

It’s my nightclub, but although I own it, I'm not involved in the day to day  running. However,  I keep my finger on the pulse to check how well it is performing, as I always do for any of my assets, and I’m pleased to say that Zax is doing very well. It was a sound investment.

I'm taking this opportunity to test how on the ball the staff are. I didn’t forewarn them I would be visiting, but this evening I am immediately granted access when I head to the front of the queue, which means they have recognized who I am, and one girl even addresses me by name.

That’s good – I hate sloppy staff who are not aware of the correct protocols. Of course the owner of the club should be granted VIP treatment without having to mention who he is, so full marks to the management here for ensuring the staff have been correctly trained. 

They have probably been tipped off about my presence by the security checks Taylor will have organized. Well, no matter, the point is that they are following the correct code of behavior, although I am less than pleased by the way a young male member of staff named Max ogles my wife as she removes the coat I insisted she must wear to keep her covered while we made our way here, and  I will be bringing the matter of his inappropriate behavior to the attention of the manager.

Ana seems surprised when I  insist that she needs to drink some water, and that I'm aware of how much alcohol she has consumed over the course of the day, but that is part of my responsibility in caring for her. I know she has already consumed more than is really wise for someone with her low tolerance for alcohol, but I’ve balanced that out against the fact that she has eaten properly today, as well as understanding that we are here to relax and have fun. She’s with me, I will look after her, so all is well.

That is until she is out on the dance floor with Kate and Mia, letting herself go and dancing with unusual confidence to a David Guetta track.

Damn, you's a sexy bitch, sexy bitch!
Damn, you's a sexy bitch!

I like watching her, although I made sure I reminded her not to bend over before she headed for the dance floor.

She closes her eyes, and lets herself move with the beat, but then to my horror, I see a huge blonde gorilla move up behind Ana, and PUT HIS FUCKING HANDS ON MY WIFE’S ASS.

White hot anger surges through me. How fucking dare he touch her like that, especially as I know there is very little between his filthy hands and my very private and very personal property. I'm up on my feet and moving towards the dance floor in an instant. I am enraged, and I have to deal with this fucker without delay.

It appears that at first Ana assumes those are my hands touching her, because she can't see the guy behind her, but as I'm pushing my way through the crowd to make my way over, I see her look down at his hands and horror fills her face as she suddenly realizes those are not the hands of her husband.

I lose sight of them for a minute as the crowds get in the way, but when I finally reach them, Ana is holding up her hand to the guy and pointing to her wedding rings.

I stand behind my wife as she is moving away from the gorilla, and as she backs into me, I put my arm around her waist and move her to my side.

“Keep your fucking hands off my wife,” I spit out, as I feel the rage surging through me. It takes me back to the days when I was an out of control teenager, one who regularly got into brawls and fights due to his ferociously wild temper.

“She can take care of herself,” the fucker insolently replies, and without even thinking about what I’m doing, I land a perfect punch on his chin, and watch as he crumples to the floor. The cold detached part of me finds it satisfying that it has been so effective, while the white hot raging part of me wants to continue until I've beaten him to a pulp.

“Christian, no!” Ana gasps, as she tries to hold me back. “I already hit him.”

Just as the fucker is getting to his feet, Elliot grasps my arm, just as he has so many times in the past when we were teenagers, looking out for me and trying to prevent his hot headed little brother from landing in serious trouble. 

His firm touch helps to bring me back from my enraged, uncontrolled state, as I suddenly realize I don’t want to ruin his evening. I take a deep breath to try and regain my composure. The blonde fucker stutters an apology, but I don’t take my eyes off him as he beats a hasty retreat.

Elliot senses that the worst of the storm has passed now that the guy has left. He lets me go, and then finally relaxes when he can see that Ana is calming me down. As the track changes, he takes Kate in his arms and starts to dance with her.

Ana puts her arms around my neck, and makes eye contact with me, to try and break the spell of my rage.

“Are you okay?” I try and refocus on her.

“Yes,” she assures me. She refuses to sit down, but tries her best to get me to dance with her instead, trying to distract me out of my fury.

“You hit him?” I'm trying to process this information, as she takes my clenched fists in her hands.

“Of course I did. I thought it was you, but his hands were hairier. Please dance with me.”

Suddenly, I really want to dance with my sexy wife, to feel her body, my property, right next to mine.

“You wanna dance? Let’s dance,” I growl. 

I like to dance, and right now it’s the best way for me to release some of the tension that has built up in the last few minutes. I enjoy dancing with my wife, and I find myself having fun as I dirty dance with her.

Finally we go and sit down. Ana worries about what would have happened if the press had been here. Seems she’s finally beginning to think like a billionaire’s wife, aware that our actions are subject to the scrutiny of  the press, but I reassure her that it would all have been taken care of. That’s what my lawyers are for, to clean up any shit I tell them to, and one of the reasons I don’t use my dad’s firm. There are many aspects of my life that he doesn’t need to know about.

But I can see that Ana is very tired, has had enough and needs to go home. Kate and Elliot join us – I think they have their own very personal and very intimate agenda they want to follow. We leave Mia and Ethan behind at the club, and I hope maybe that will give them a chance to clear the air and sort out where their relationship is going.


When we get back, it’s obvious that Ana is totally wrecked. The combination of tiredness, alcohol and altitude has taken its toll – we are at nearly eight thousand feet above sea level here.  She can barely make it up the stairs to our room, having declined my offer to carry her in, although she allowed me to remove her Manolos. Pity, I was really looking forward to seeing her wearing just those sexy shoes and nothing else, but Ana is not in a fit state for any of the sexy games I’d got planned. Instead, I shall have to distract myself by catching up with some work once I’ve put her to bed.

But the state she’s in, if I don’t help her, she'll crash out on the bed just as she is, in her clothes, complete with heavy makeup. So I take her into the bathroom and put her on the chair. She just sits there and closes her eyes, nearly asleep already. I search in the cupboard to find what I need. Some cotton balls and baby oil should do the trick.

As I tip her head back, she opens her eyes in surprise.

“Eyes closed,” I instruct, so I can take off her makeup. I like doing this, caring for my wife, looking after her. That’s what loving couples do, isn’t it? They look after each other, and they cherish each other.

Just like the time Ana made me feel cherished when she shampooed my hair and then cut it for me. That made me feel very cherished indeed, especially when people made comments about my new haircut, and I could say "My wife cut it for me." Because she cares about me. Because she loves me.

“Aw, there’s the woman I married,” I say, once I’ve managed to get most of it off.

“You don’t like the makeup?”

It’s been a change to see her made up, but my beautiful wife has no need of artificial embellishment.

“I like it well enough, but I prefer what’s beneath it. Here, take these.”

I kiss her forehead, and pass her some Advil with a glass of water. Reluctantly she takes them after rolling her eyes, but she’ll thank me in the morning.

“Good. Do you need a private moment?” I ask, remembering how much water I’ve insisted she drinks.

“So coy, Mr. Grey. Yes, I need to pee.”

“You expect me to leave?”

“You want to stay? You are one kinky son of a bitch. Out. I don’t want you to watch me pee. That’s a step too far.”

I leave her to it in the bathroom, but this little scene has brought back memories. Some very strict Dominants insist their subs must always ask for permission to urinate or defecate, and must allow the Dom to watch if he wishes. It's a very effective method of exerting control, but tends to appeal mostly to D/s relationships that include an element of humiliation. It was something we covered when I was training to become a Dom, but was not an area that particularly appealed to me at the time.

Now, I’d help Ana without hesitation if she needed assistance in the bathroom, but it’s nothing to do with control or  humiliation, just part of looking after and caring for someone that you love and cherish.


“That was fun,” Ana whispers the following morning.

She’s just indulged my fantasy for some resistance, after I’d admitted that subduing her in bed while she struggled was a fantasy of mine – one that I've never been able to act out previously, because I couldn’t bear to be touched.

But it didn’t quite go to plan. It started off well enough, as Ana fought and kicked and struggled as she tried to push me off. That was really hot, even when she pulled my hair really hard, because that made it more real.

“Oh, baby, fight me,” I’d implored her, but then our fighting had morphed into intense passion. So I’d slowed the pace right down, to make sweet love to my beloved wife, but that had just seemed to frustrate a clearly very impatient Ana into fighting and resisting me again.

“You don’t want to play nice?” I’d asked, confused.

No, she wanted me now, it seemed, so I gave in and did things her way. Ana dictated to me how we should make love.

And that’s what feels so odd. Having Ana call the shots like that. I admit to her that it confounds me, because it’s so different from how I've always done things.

“Good different or bad different?” she asks, as she trails her finger over my lips.

I consider her question for a minute before responding. To be honest, I'm not really sure. Is it a step too far? Does it make me feel less of a man, less in control? Or does it make me feel good that I am adaptable and considerate of my wife’s wishes?

“Good different,” I try to convince myself, as well as her.

“You’ve never indulged this little fantasy before?” she queries.

“No, Anastasia. You can touch me.”

“Mrs. Robinson could touch you,” Ana murmurs.

It always seems to come back to Elena, as far as Ana is concerned. She seems to endlessly want to rehash all the old shit.

“That was different,” I whisper back.

“Good different or bad different?” she wants to know again.

I think this through, and try to come up with an honest answer.

What Elena did to me wasn’t exactly what I would call touching. She would punish me with the touch of a cane, or a whip, or some other instrument of her choosing. She would pull my hair to jerk my head back when I displeased her, or when she considered that I had been disobedient, so that she could slap my face. She would touch me enough to bring me to the edge of an orgasm, just so she could deny me as she ordered me not to come. 

But I can't think of a time in all those years when she touched me in a way that indicated she cherished me or cared for me in any way other than for pure sexual gratification. When she touched me, she was simply using me. And comparing this experience,  to what I experience now when Ana touches me, means there is only one answer I can really give her.

“Bad, I think.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I did. At the time.”

“Not now?”

I gaze at Ana, and shake my head, as I weigh everything up. All that time with Elena. How could I have got things so wrong, when I was so sure at the time that she was a force for good?

“Oh, Christian.”

Ana launches herself at me, kissing me everywhere, but especially my scars. My beloved wife cares for me, cherishes me as her touch heals the pain and torment that she can see still haunts me.

This time when I make love to Ana, it is the sweet and tender loving of my choice.


The next morning, I wander downstairs before my sleepyhead wife, and as it’s been a while since I was last here, I take a stroll around the grounds just to refresh my memory and check that everything is as it should be.

 I come across Peter Bentley, my housekeeper’s husband and the maintenance man here.  He’s also a volunteer with the Aspen Fire Department, as that fits in well with his responsibilities, as most of the time the place is unoccupied. He’s a fair haired, dark eyed middle aged guy, who keeps pretty fit in order to be able to carry out his Fire Department duties.

We strike up a conversation as we walk across the lawn back towards the house, and he’s pleased that I'm planning to make more use of this place. 

Peter runs through all the regular maintenance work he’s undertaken, and goes on to highlight a couple of areas he thinks will need looking at before the winter snows arrive. He says it would be wise for the garage  to have a new roof, and for some of the guttering to be replaced, so I suggest he gets Elliot to take a look, and if he agrees it needs doing, then to go ahead and organize the work to be completed.

As we stroll, I pick up an old bamboo cane that has blown over from where it was supporting some plants that have finished flowering now. As I weigh the cane in my hand, I recall how particularly painful bamboo is for dealing out a punishment, how it gives a lot of intensity with very little effort, because of the bumps and ridges along the cane.

I test it out, whipping it through the air. Thin lightweight canes like this one are more flexible and therefore sting the most. How do I know? Because bamboo canes were one of Elena’s instruments of choice  when she began my training as her submissive. The bamboo cane brought me to heel very quickly and effectively, and I've never forgotten how much it stung, or the marks it left.

After my conversation with Ana last night about Elena, the memories this bamboo cane have stirred up are not pleasant or happy ones. As I look up and see Ana watching me out of the window, I'm glad I’ve got rid of all my canes from our playroom. 

Such a wicked and spiteful instrument does not have a place in our loving relationship, however much we both enjoy spicy kinky fuckery. 

Even if my wife can be the most frustrating woman on the planet sometimes, caning someone you love until they are black and blue is not cherishing them, is it?

After spending Sunday hiking and picnicking, we all head back to Seattle, suitably exhausted, but mostly happy. Ana and I are happy, Kate and Elliot most definitely are, but Mia and Ethan are barely speaking, so they don’t seemed to have resolved anything, which is a shame. 

But there is little more I can do about that situation, much as I hate to see my sister looking so down. If she can't work her magic on Ethan, no one can.

And so it is back to reality once more. At least Ana and I achieved our aim of a relaxing and sociable weekend, and I plan for us to have lots more great weekends together.

The track that Ana dances to in Zax - 
David Guetta : Sexy Bitch. 

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. 
 p. Don't say I didn't warn you.  No two are alike, and each is very intng looking