Prologue: Close Encounters

The Interview: May 9, 2011

Ana

"This isn't even a little bit okay," Kate, my roommate and best friend, whines as I drive us toward Seattle. "Please, Ana. Pleeeease do this interview for me."

Since Kate has come down with some sort of bug she's been trying to convince me that I should cover for her, but my interpersonal skills are limited at best. I should be studying for my finals, not driving 165 miles to Seattle before working at Clayton's. But Katherine Kavanagh has enlisted my services as chauffeur to shuttle her for an interview that will be showcased in her beloved school newspaper. While I love her and think of her as a sister, I am inwardly cursing this poor sick girl currently sitting next to me in her car, a sporty Mercedes CLK: Damn influenza! And damn Kate and her extracurricular activities!

"Kate! We've already gone over this. I am the last person you want filling in for you on the interview that culminates your college writing career," I counter, knowing that drawing attention to this being her last editorial in the WSU newspaper will be the point that drives her toward conceding me this obligation. "Besides, I don't even know who this person is."

"It's Christian Grey. I've told you this." She rolls her eyes at me. "He's the CEO and founder of Grey Enterprises Holdings in Seattle? Billionaire? Genius?" I sneak a glance over at her and give her my best I-really-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about look. Despite having heard this name countless times over the course of the past nine months, it's never crossed my mind to Google his name and find more out. In my mind I picture a middle-aged womanizer with a deep tan, too-white teeth and a cheesy, over-priced suit.

Kate has been basically stalking this man's PR department for the past year to get an interview, and this is the last chance she has if the article is actually going to make it into the commencement edition of our school's newspaper. As senior editor, this is a huge deal for Kate. Apparently the elusive 'Christian Grey' super man will be conferring our diplomas at graduation, but I couldn't care less; the macho businessman persona doesn't do it for me.

Finally, Kate rolls her eyes again, gives me a small weak smile, and concedes, "You're right. I have to do this. I can do this."

"There's the girl I know! Now eat some of the soup I made you, and drink that tea. It will make you feel a bit healthier for the interview." The remaining hour of the car ride goes by quickly and quietly as Kate takes a short nap in the car after finishing off my special flu soup, and I listen to an almost muted NPR program.

It's quarter to two when we arrive at the headquarters of this Mr. Grey's global enterprise. The building is a formidable twenty-story glass and steel businessman's fantasy. As we take the short walk from the valet to the front of the building, I notice that the moniker "Grey House" is etched inconspicuously in steel above the behemoth glass doors. The whole look of the building is sleek and posh, yet somewhat understated and classy.

Making our way through the doors, Kate takes a deep breath and quickly squeezes my hand before she makes her way toward the young, attractive blonde woman seated behind a solid, white sandstone desk. The image of the two of them together is quite the sight, both are gorgeous and dressed immaculately in business attire. Without giving the woman a second look Kate says with the confidence and self-assuredness I'm used to from my best friend, "Katherine Kavanagh. Here to see Mr. Grey."

"Excuse me one moment, Miss Kavanagh." She arches her eyebrow in the way only a woman with a professional job can at two young, "inexperienced" soon-to-be college graduates. I fidget unconsciously, but do my best to show her that I am not intimidated. I notice that the force known as Katherine Kavanagh isn't even slightly subdued by this woman's professionalism, or lack there of depending on how you look at it.

"Miss Kavanagh is expected, but I'm afraid you're the only one allowed up," she says as she looks from Kate to me. "You can sign here Miss Kavanagh. This is your visitor's badge. Take the elevator to the twentieth floor and speak with Andrea, Mr. Grey's PA. And Miss…"

"Steele. Anastasia Steele." I squeak at her.

"Miss Steele you can wait right over here in one of these couches or chairs, and I will find you a glass of water while you wait."

Kate quickly turns toward me as she draws in a deep breath of air-conditioned lobby air, and I know she needs a little bit more encouragement before she heads up. I gently grab by her by her shoulders and say, "Kate. You're going to be wonderful. You are not going to be sick, and he isn't even going to know you aren't feeling well. I will be right here when you're done, and you can sleep the whole way home. Now go be your amazing self!"

Having said that, Kate gives me her million-dollar-smile, and turns with poise on her incredibly high heels. With a flick of her full strawberry-blonde hair Kate struts determinedly toward the elevator lying in wait to take her to the crown jewel of her college writing career. I make my way to one of the lobby seats and find it to be surprisingly comfortable. I find a magazine on the table, Soaring Society of America, and begin to thumb my way through it, stopping only to relish the beautiful images taken of the landscape from high up in the air. The rest of the magazine is a little dull, and I don't understand any of the technical jargon written on the pages.

After a minute or two, another blonde stepford employee comes over to give me with a large glass of water. When she notices my current choice of reading material she motions over to a small but stocked bookshelf on the wall to my left. She's slightly younger than the first blonde, and smiles warmly at me when she notices my excitement at finding a copy of Jane Eyre. Now, at least I can play the waiting game with a good book.

Christian

I scowl. "Show her in," I mutter, aware that I sound like a sulky teen but I don't give a fuck.

The only reason Miss Kavanagh is being given the opportunity to do this interview is in favor to her father, the owner of Kavanagh Media. We've done business together, and he seems like a shrewd operator and a rational human being. I'm really only interested to see if his tenacious daughter has fallen far from the tree.

Miss Kavanagh pushes the door open and determinedly makes her way to me. She smiles, and her face lights up as our hands meet in a confident and strong handshake. "Mr. Grey, it is a pleasure to finally have the opportunity to meet with you." She licks her lips in the smallest way possible, and swallows, indicating that once again my looks are wreaking the usual havoc on her as they do on all women, besides Ros and my female family members at least. Just a pretty face.

"Likewise Miss Kavanagh. Please, let's take a seat over here." I lead her toward the sitting area, averting my eyes from hers as she continues to study my face. This girl has started the interview already: studying my face, gazing around the room, taking in the world I created with the hand that just shook hers.

As we sit, I use the opportunity to take in the woman sitting across from me. She's an attractive girl around twenty-two, strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and a strong lithe runner's body. Just by looking at her it's clear that Katherine Kavanagh has most likely lived a life of privilege, devoid of the pains experienced by too many people in this world. Her clothes are all designer brands, immaculately tailored and fitted to her body's unique needs. While her dress is professional, it is also quite stylish and I assume she's bought this outfit for today's interview. She's the kind of woman I would hire.

"Mr. Grey I really can't thank you enough for granting me this interview. I know this is a rare opportunity and I would very much like to dive in." Miss Kavanagh is rifling through her bag as she says this, and quickly retrieves a small notebook, pen, and an antiquated digital recorder. Digital recorder? Didn't those go out with VHS tapes? She smiles and holding up the recorder says, "Do you mind if I record your answers?"

"No, I don't mind," I mutter as I force myself to smile and appear human in this girl's presence.

She presses record, and gets straight to her benign and unoriginal questions beginning with, "Mr. Grey, you are very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?"

Oh Christ! Surely she can do better than this? What a fucking dull question. Where's the originality I was hoping for from the daughter of Kavanagh Media's CEO? I give her my usual response to this question, blathering on about having exceptional people working for and around me in hopes to at least appear a bit modest. In my mind I know the truth though: I'm a fucking genius at what I do.

The interview goes on in this way with several more banal questions and I answer each with a contrived and rehearsed response. With hint of irritation in her voice Miss Kavanagh says, "While researching for this interview I came across a number of society photos of you from various events: charity dinners, balls, fundraisers. In each photo you appear with a family member, business associate, or by yourself." It's right here where she clears her throat, and looks straight into my cold grey eyes as if to gauge my reaction to the upcoming question.

"That wasn't a question Miss Kavanagh." What is this girl getting at? I can guess, but I really don't think she has the balls to ask me, but then again she seems pissed off at by scripted answers.

"Well, I noticed you never have dates to these affairs. Are you gay Mr. Grey?" Her gaze steadies and doesn't drop from my eyes in the least. What the fuck! This isn't a question I had prepared to answer in an interview for a student newspaper, or for any type of editorial for that matter. Nobody, not even my family, has had the courage to ask this one simple question and in this moment I'm completely taken aback at Miss Kavanagh's audacity. This is the kind of woman I steer clear of: tenacious, headstrong, domineering.

Despite my shock, my gaze doesn't break from Katherine's. Taking a deep, calming breath I coldly say, "No, Miss Kavanagh, I'm not." And with that Andrea pops her head in the room to announce my next appointment. Saved by the fucking bell.

"I was hoping to get some original photos for the article. Would it be okay for me to take a couple quickly before I go?" Kate asks this in a panic because she realizes that her time is at an end and I'm still pissed about that last question. I make some lame excuse, inflating the importance of the meeting coming in and tell her I'll have Andrea send some stock photos to her. I can tell she's disappointed with my response, and my now aloof demeanor.

"Well, it was nice interviewing you Mr. Grey. I will most likely see you at graduation." She takes my hand and shakes it as strongly as she did in greeting, but this time the slightest glare and edge appears in her eyes as they meet mine. No smile this time, no licking of the lips. I did not impress Katherine Kavanagh, and I don't care in the fucking least.

"Yes, you probably will. Goodbye Miss Kavanagh." I don't see her out.

Kate

Ughhhh! Heading into the elevator I am so irritated with that interview I can hardly stand it. Mr. Billionaire Mogul's answers were all so well-rehearsed and guarded. It's clear he doesn't like to give much away, but seriously he could have tried to have been even slightly accommodating. He was purposefully difficult, and it was clear that he was reiterating responses he had said many times in the past.

The "gay" question was one I had written down as a joke, and I had never had the intention to actually ask it. It was one of those I"ll-write-it-down-so-I-can-look-at-it-and-make-myself-smile questions, just there to ease my tension. His fixed answers to the rest of my questions provoked me into actually asking. I don't care though. It's not like I'm trying to get a job at GEH.

I smile inwardly at that question. I really got a rise out of him. Mr. Grey's mask evaporated for just a moment, and I could tell he was shocked, maybe even angry, that I would ask him that.

As the elevator glides to a halt at the ground floor lobby, I suddenly become all too aware of my virus-ridden stomach. I want to throw up, but I know that would be incredibly unprofessional, so I hold my breath instead and grip onto the rails along the elevator wall. When I walk out, I see Ana snuggled up on the couch reading a book. If anyone could find Jane Eyre in a sterile office building, it would be little Ana Steele.

When I make my over to her, Ana is surprised to see me and almost jumps out of her seat when I ask if she's ready to go. Grasping her chest to show she was surprised, Ana hops out of the overstuffed chair she was sitting in and makes her way to the bookshelf on the wall to her left. She shelves the book, grabs the receptionist's eye, smiles, and says, "Thank you for the beverage and book!" The receptionist smiles warmly at Ana, but looks shocked at the show of gratitude for something that is clearly in her job description. Only Ana. She's so damn endearing.

Ana is far and beyond one of my favorite people in the world. We've been roommates since freshman year, and she has become the sister I've always wanted but never had. She takes care of me better than anyone could have in all the years we've known one another, and I really can't imagine my life without this girl. If only I could get her to date my brother, Ethan, then we could really be sisters. But, of course, Ana isn't interested. Ana isn't interested in anyone, ever. She never seems to notice that men look at her and she definitely doesn't understand how beautiful she is, inside and out. She is really the most amazingly unaware person I know, at least when it comes to herself; when it comes to others, Ana notices everything. You can't get anything past her, and I often joke that it's because she can see right through you.

When she makes her way back to me, Ana slips her arm around my waist and I do the same. As we make our way out the glass doors in tandem, Ana asks, "How did the interview go? Was the great Christian Grey all you'd hoped for?" When she says the jerks name, she rolls her eyes dramatically, making me laugh.

"Ughhh, Ana! He was a jerk!" I exclaim. "He was giving me these really rehearsed answers. It was like he was reading them! So I asked the gay question, and he didn't like that very much." Ana looks shocked, but she starts to giggle as she shakes her head in my direction.

When we retrieve my car, Ana makes sure I am settled in the back so I can take a nice nap on our way back to the apartment we call home. What would I ever do without this girl?

The Graduation: May 26, 2011

Ana

The gym is crowded. Ray has gone to sit with the other parents and well-wishers in the tiered seating, while I make my way to my seat. I'm wearing my black gown and my cap, and I feel so accomplished and adult-ish in this newly acquired attire. I find my seat amongst fellow students whose surnames also begin with S. I glance behind me and spot Ray high up in the bleachers, seated with Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh. I give him a big wave and he self-consciously gives me a small salute back.

I feel a twinge of sadness as I turn back around to face the stage. My mother should have been here today, but she has her priorities set with husband number four as she has with all her husbands past, excluding Ray. Ray's priority was always me, and I don't think my mom really understood that. He's up there all by himself, and I can't help but wish Ray had somebody up there with him like my mom has with her in Georgia.

On either side of me sit two girls who I don't know, but they clearly know one another and talk across me excitedly as if I don't even exist. The conversation they're having is interrupted at precisely eleven o'clock when the chancellor of the college appears from behind the stage, followed by the three vice chancellors and then the senior professors, all decked out in their black and red regalia. We all stand and applaud our teaching staff. Some professors nod and wave, while others look bored and irritable. Last onto the stage are Kate and Mr. "Not Gay" Christian Grey, or so Kate has been calling him since the interview.

"Look at him!" one of the girls beside me hisses enthusiastically to her friend.

"Must be Christian Grey."

"Is he single?"

I smile, and the girls look at me questioningly. "Oh, I don't think so. I've heard he's gay." I chuckle inwardly as I watch the girls' faces fall into a disappointed line. Kate would think this is hilarious. She's still convinced he is gay, and I couldn't care less either way. Even though he's handsome, even from this distance, the business mogul type doesn't interest me. I like those heart-warmingly romantic men from the novels I read. I've yet to meet one in real life, and I doubt the man who failed to impress Katherine Kavanagh is one.

As the chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the ceremony with his speech, I think back to the night of the last finals when Kate and I went out with friends to a local college bar. My best friend, José, a guy I've basically considered my brother since I met him, kissed me in our inebriated states.

José insists he was just trying to get me to "recognize" my feelings for him, but nothing was recognized on my part other than disgust for my former best male friend's tongue in my mouth. He thought that my lack of romantic relationships combined with our close friendship showed that I really was in love him, and I had to be very clear with José about the terms of our "relationship."

Needless to say, things had been a little bit frosty between the two of us since that night. And he's supposed to be meeting my dad and I for dinner after the ceremony tonight, so I guess that will be interesting.

When the crowd erupts in subdued, reverent applause my thoughts are interrupted and my attention is drawn back to the stage. It's Kate's turn, and she has my full attention. The chancellor sits, and Kate tosses her lovely long hair behind her as she places her papers on the lectern. She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people staring at her, like I would be. She smiles when she's ready, looks up at the captivated throng, and launches eloquently into her speech. She is composed and funny, the girls beside me erupt on cue at her first joke, and in that moment I am immensely proud of my best friend.

Even though I have heard this speech a few times before, I listen carefully, but take a moment to glance around at the others sitting on stage behind her. Christian Grey's eyebrows are raised slightly, as if he is surprised at Kate's innate competence. He's far away, but I do get a good look at him. He looks much younger than I had thought he would be, and he's even more handsome than Kate had mentioned, but remembering the way Kate described his personality makes me instantly return my gaze to my best friend.

Kate concludes her speech with a flourish, and spontaneously everyone stands, applauding and cheering, her first standing ovation. I beam at her and cheer, and she grins back at me. Good job, Kate. She sits, as does the audience, and the chancellor rises to introduce Christian Grey by briefly touching on his achievements in business and his generosity toward the university, but I stop listening and glance around the room.

As Mr. Grey takes the stage all the women in the room, except me I think, visibly lean forward to get a better look at the man in front of them. His voice is soft, measured, and somewhat mesmerizing as he gives an incredible speech regarding the "impressive work of the environmental science department," and how it is "a very personal journey" for him. He mentions that at some point he had been "profoundly hungry," and it stands to reason that experience was from before he became a billionaire. His speech was well-received by the audience and Mr. Grey smiles briefly before returning to his seat amidst a warm applause from the crowd.

With that, the chancellor rises, and we begin the long, tedious process of collecting our mock diplomas. I slowly make my way up to the stage between the two giggling girls, and when I finally hear "Anastasia Rose Steele" over the loudspeakers, I make my way across the stage. Two steps out I hear a faint 'woot' from across the audience, and I sneak a look out as my cheeks warm and my face turns a bright shade of pink.

Biting my bottom lip, I sneak a gaze up at the Christian Grey and I'm shocked to see that he is gazing down at me, his look warm but somewhat guarded. His face is beautiful, but his most defining characteristic is his grey, piercing eyes. He shakes my hand, squeezing it gently and I feel a rush of electricity at the point of his gentle, yet firm touch. As my eyes make their way to his again, he has a look of complete incredulity on his face, and I know he felt that shock too. His masculine voice softly murmurs a quick, "Congratulations." As fast as that happened, Grey hands me my diploma and I make my way off the stage, shaking my right hand slightly to rid myself of the electric feeling.

Once I'm back in my seat, I try to forget that charge between Mr. Grey and myself. It takes an hour for the ceremony to end, and I'm anxious to get out of here at that point. At the conclusion, Kate comes bouncing off the stage in my direction so that we can go meet our families together. We are stopped by a few friends on our way and when we do get there, my heart stops; Christian Grey's back is to us as he speaks with Mr. Kavanagh.

I run up and give Ray a huge hug, that he reciprocates to the best of his ability. We sit and chat and discuss whether or not we should bolt or stay for the small party after the ceremony. Before we have a chance to make a decision, Kate's brother Ethan comes out of no where and picks me up in an overenthusiastic hug. I've known Ethan almost as long as I've known Kate, and the two of us have become incredibly close. Kate has always wanted her older brother and I to be more than friends, but I'm just not interested in him like that.

When he sets me down, Ethan lets his arm remain draped over my shoulders as I reacquaint him with my step dad. Ethan and I smile at one another between conversations. I sneak a few glance behind me toward Mr. Grey in an attempt to gain some type of understanding of what transpired between us on stage. Ethan and I end our exchange with another spirited hug, before Ray and I sneak off to pick up José and go for a nice dinner.

Unfortunately, the business mogul was gone when I went to say goodbye to the Kavanaghs.

Christian

I have been miserable all week. It's been more than two months since I ended the sub contract with Susannah, and needless to say I'm in great need of a new one. Elena has been trying to line up some interviews with someone of my liking, but lately nobody is of my liking. I just want somebody who doesn't constantly annoy the fuck out of me. Is that really too much to ask?

Katherine Kavanagh interrupts my thoughts with a curt, "Grey." She is completely disappointed to see me, but that's fine because I'm disappointed to see her too. She has spunk and reminds me a lot of my sister Mia. The biggest difference between her and Mia, is all of the good points of Mia's personality are missing from Kate's, as far as I can tell. This woman is too headstrong, too domineering for my liking and I can't stand being in the same room as her. At least she isn't kissing my ass like everyone else here. Just a few hours and you're done.

I return her greeting in an equally short manner, "Miss Kavanagh." With that the we start moving toward the stage.

Most of the ceremony is dull and similar to the commencements I've been to in the past for my brother Elliot. Luckily I never had to go through something like this at Harvard. I probably would have skipped anyway, which would have made my father as mad as he was when I dropped out with a year left. Best fucking decision I ever made.

With a short introduction, the chancellor invites Katherine to the podium where she makes a rousing speech. The crowd is laughing and enjoying themselves as they listen to her stereotypical "what's next" themed speech. It's the kind of speech I could never make. I'm not funny, and I don't try to be. I am, however, slightly impressed with her competence. The fact that there are probably more than one thousand people in the room doesn't bother this young woman, and she has clearly put a lot of work into the oration.

When the speech is over, I shuffle in my seat knowing that I'm up next. The chancellor introduces me, and explains how I'm a "self-made man" and blah blah fucking blah. Finally it's my turn and I make my way up to the podium. I glance about the room and give the audience the most genuine smile I can muster at this point in time. I find my mother and father in the crowd (they insisted they be here), and give my mother a small smile in recognition. Then I begin the speech. I am not funny. I am not amusing. I am serious.

I get through it as quickly as I can without giving away that I'm rushed and irritated at having to be here today. When I'm done, I give a small smile and turn on my heel back toward my seat between the chancellor and Miss Katherine Kavanagh. She has been incredibly unfriendly since I saw her back stage, but I'm perfectly okay with that.

Now it's time to give out the diplomas to the four-hundred graduates eagerly awaiting their freedom into student loan debt and deferral. We make it through most of the students without a single one of them doing something interesting. It's an incredibly monotonous experience and I only look at the person I'm handing the degree to, never looking forward to see who's coming next.

As we make our way through the students with S surnames, I find myself getting antsy and excited for this to be over with. The name "Stedman" is called and a giggly girl with blonde hair comes bounding over to me, and when I take her hand to shake it she looks up at me and gives me the usual flirtatious grin and bedroom eyes through half shut lids and overly mascara-ed lashes. I remove my hand and look away much faster than I had at many of the previous graduates. That flirtatious shit pisses me off.

I vaguely hear the chancellor say another name, but I'm too distracted by the enticing sight before me to actually understand his words. The young woman coming across the stage is beyond alluring; a petite brunette with the most flawless skin I've ever seen. I can hear a very small group of people give a cheerful, "Woot," out in the crowd and she turns to them, her cheeks blushing the most incredible shade of pink, and she bites her full bottom lip. She keeps moving but seems to be coming in slow motion toward me. Of course it's her name I don't hear. Shit!

This girl finally makes her way to me, and I can't help the wayward thought of her chained spread-eagle on the satin sheets of the four-poster bed in my playroom, her skin pink and warmed from the bite of a flogger. Fuck. I stop my thoughts, alarmed at their direction. What the fuck are you thinking, Grey? This girl is much too young, and you don't know her. Haven't even met her…

When this girl takes my hand in the same shake I've given about three-hundred other students prior, I'm alarmed at the electric jolt that pulses through my hand, arm, body beginning at the place of her soft but firm touch and reverberating outward. She looks up, a slightly stunned expression on her delicate features, and it's as if those wonderfully clear too-blue eyes are looking directly through me. Fuck me! With that look, I know she felt the same jolt of electricity I just did, and we quickly release hands as I hand her the diploma.

"Congratulations," I manage to splutter in her direction. It's the only vocal recognition I've given any of the graduates, but the compulsion to say something too strong. Within a few short seconds she disappears behind me into the bustling crowd of just-graduated students and excited parents. Somehow I make it through the rest of the ceremony, but I find myself unconsciously searching the crowd for her, not registering another face before me.

With the end of the ceremony I make some quick goodbyes to members of the staff I'm acquainted with because of the grants I've given the university in the past. I find my parents and tell them I'll meet them at the Heathman for lunch in an hour, and that they don't have to wait for me as Taylor drove me. I make my way through the crowd trying to find Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh just to be polite and continue to keep this business connection fruitful. I'm sure their wonderful daughter has told them all about our interview, and this isn't a business relationship I want to go sour. My mind keeps going back to the woman from the stage, and I can't help but hope to see her fine figure once more before I leave.

When I find the Kavanagh family, I'm introduced to their son and Ray, the step dad of "Kate's" roommate. Mr. Kavanagh and I exchange pleasantries and he thanks me for allowing Katherine the opportunity to interview me, then we begin to talk a bit of business. Back to my comfort zone.

After some time, I suddenly hear somewhat of a commotion behind me and see Kate barreling around a crowd of people and leaping into her brother's arms. Apparently she didn't know he was coming or something. I don't care. Pretending to care, I force a smile and turn my attention back to Mr. Kavanagh who is chuckling to himself and shaking his head at his two children. We quickly pick up our conversation, my back turned toward the rest of his family and friends.

When I finally say my goodbyes to Mr. Kavanagh and turn around, I am stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of the girl from the stage speaking with Ray. Ethan Kavanagh's arm is draped around her shoulders, and she appears to be at complete ease with him. Fuck, she has a boyfriend. I shake my head as if to rid myself of the thought and straighten my shocked facial expression as I continue my walk toward where Taylor is waiting by an exit. My mind is in the shitter, and why do I suddenly want to punch this fucking blond haired boy in the mouth?

"Taylor. Let's get back to the Heathman," I bark at him. "After eating with my parents we're leaving for Seattle immediately."

Once in the SUV, I take out my Blackberry and make a call to Elena. "Christian," she purrs into her end of the phonecall. I fucking hate that.

"Elena, have you found anyone yet?" I ask brusquely, skipping the pleasantries. "I'm losing my fucking mind." I almost always find my new subs through Elena. It's more discreet than going to a club and since she trained me, she knows my appetites and requirements better than anyone else, even better than me sometimes.

"Somebody's in a miserable way today. Was the ceremony really that bad Christian?" I don't answer her question and wait silently for her to answer mine, a technique I've perfected after years of therapy. "I have one prospect, Molly, and she can meet you Monday if you'd like."

"Thank fuck Elena. You can bring her to Escala at noon, but give her the NDA before she comes up." Elena knows the drill, but I can't help reminding her. I need to feel some type of control today.

"What's brought this on? You knew I was looking for you an-…"

"I've just been under a lot of stress," I interrupt. "I have to go meet my parents. I'll talk to you later this weekend."

I hang up without giving her a chance to say goodbye and toss my phone across the leather seat of the Audi SUV. Immediately, I feel a pang of guilt. I owe everything to that woman and just acted like an ass. Without her, I probably would have gone the way of the crackwhore. I know she understands my mood swings better than everyone else, but she still deserve my awful attitude.

Letting out a sigh, I pick up my phone again and type out a quick message to Elena: Just in a bad mood. I shouldn't take it out on you. I'll take you to dinner this week. Monday?

Running my hands through my hair, I close my eyes in an attempt to find some type of solace after such an odd day. Despite my best attempts to sort through my thoughts, the backs of my eyelids flit with images of that girl. The image of her from this morning sauntering across the stage takes on a new dynamic in my fucked up head: her bent over my playroom bench, hair in a long chestnut colored braid with angry pink lines from the lick of belt crossing the presumably flawless skin of her backside. I want to see her aching after a weekend of me defiling every inch of her perfect body, inside and out. These thoughts alone leave me hard and frustrated in the back of the Audi. I do not think about random women like this. What the fuck is this?

My phone vibrates and I open my eyes to look at the message from my only friend: Monday sounds great. If it's of any help I spoke with Molly. She can meet with you tomorrow and spend the weekend? Let me know if you're available and I'll set everything up. Cheer up, darling.

I let out a whisper of relief and text Ms. Lincoln back: Thank fuck for that Elena.