Fifty Shades of Grey

I throw my arm over my eyes again. And like a small child, I briefly entertain the thought that if I can’t see him, then he can’t see me.

“Anastasia, what was I doing? I won’t ask you again.”

“You had a riding crop.”

He moves my arm.

“Really?”

“Yes.” I am crimson.

“There’s hope for you yet,” he murmurs. “I have several riding crops.”

“Brown plaited leather?”

He laughs.

“No, but I’m sure I could get one.” His gray eyes blaze with excitement.

Leaning down, he gives me a brief kiss then stands and grabs his boxers, oh no… he’s going. I glance quickly at the time – it’s only nine-forty. I scoot out of bed too and grab my sweat pants and a cami top, then sit back on the bed, cross-legged, watching him. I don’t want him to go. What can I do?

“When is your period due?” He interrupts my thoughts.

What!

“I hate wearing these things,” he grumbles. He holds up the condom, then puts it on the floor, and slips on his jeans.

“Well?” he prompts when I don’t reply, and he looks at me expectantly as if he’s waiting for my opinion on the weather. Holy crap… this is personal stuff.

“Next week.” I stare down at my hands.

“You need to sort out some contraception.”

He is so bossy. I stare at him blankly. He sits back on the bed as he puts on his shoes and socks.

“Do you have a doctor?”

I shake my head. We are back to mergers and acquisitions – another 180-degree mood swing.

He frowns.

“I can have mine come and see you at your apartment – Sunday morning before you come and see me. Or he can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?”

No pressure then. Something else that he’s paying for… but actually this is for his benefit.

“Your place.” That means I am guaranteed to see him Sunday.

“Okay. I’ll let you know the time.”

“Are you leaving?”

Don’t go… stay with me please.

“Yes.”

Why?

“How are you getting back?” I whisper.

“Taylor will pick me up.”

“I can drive you. I have a lovely new car.”

He gazes at me, his expression warm.

“That’s more like it. But I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Did you get me tipsy on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you over-think everything, and you’re reticent like your stepdad. A drop of wine in you and you start talking, and I need you to communicate honestly with me. Otherwise you clam up, and I have no idea what you’re thinking. In vino veritas, Anastasia.”

“And you think you’re always honest with me?”

“I endeavor to be.” He looks down at me warily. “This will only work if we’re honest with each other.”

“I’d like you to stay and use this.” I hold up the second condom.

He smiles and his eyes glow with humor.

“Anastasia, I have crossed so many lines here tonight. I have to go. I’ll see you on Sunday. I’ll have the revised contract ready for you, and then we can really start to play.”

“Play?” Holy shit. My heart leaps into my mouth.