She opened her eyes to complete darkness. Clouds now hid the moon from lighting the world and her eyes needed to adjust to the darkness. The curtains in the hotel room were blowing out and she could feel air coming from behind them bringing the scent of the French breeze whistling gentle against the windows. She couldn't believe she'd fallen asleep when they were only supposed to have a few hours together.
She turned to look beside her, faintly seeing the outline of unruly copper hair and a muscular chest. She could hear his breathing and knew that he was fast asleep. He needed sleep, he'd certainly wore her out. She would happily have cuddled into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent and fallen asleep again but she had to go. She'd already stayed too long.
She carefully climbed out of bed, moving the arm of the man who had been lying beside her from across her stomach and froze when his breathing changed. He was reaching out for her so she moved quickly, shifting the sheets. She waited a few seconds before he settled again before groping in the dark for her clothes. She must have looked a sight scouring the floor for them - groping the carpet to catch a hint of lace or cotton but she was having no luck. She cast her eyes to the clock on the bedside table - 02:18 it read. She sighed knowing she was going to have to turn on the light and praying that her lover wouldn't wake at the sharp light. She stood and touched the light switch bathing the room in a soft glow. She quickly glanced at the figure in the bed to see if he'd awaken but he didn't. His eyes scrunched up but then he just turned so he was flat on his back and started to snore softly.
She had to stifle a moan at the sight of him and rubbed her thighs together to gain some friction. How did he affect her so much? She let her eyes run over his form - the head of unruly copper locks lying against his pillow, his sculpted face, his stunning body and the outline of his glorious cock against the thin sheets that were barely covering him. How was she supposed to leave such a sight? He was a god, an Adonis ... but he wasn't hers and she could never be his. She quickly pulled on her clothes rolling her eyes when she noticed the tear in her panties where his fingers had become impatient.
Once dressed she checked herself over in the mirror, brushing through her hair with her finger tips and rubbing smudges of mascara from underneath her eyes. Her eyes flickered to the beautiful man one last time and she couldn't help herself touching him. She went over to the side of the bed he slept on, his face turned towards her and she let her eyes and her fingers trace the lines of his face. She leaned down to place a quick kiss on his soft lips whispering a secret against them before turning off the light and heading out into the night.
Jusqu'à la prochaine fois mon chéri (until next time my darling)
Flashback
She headed out of the elevator one shiny new heel after the next. Men stared in awe and women glanced at her in envy as she walked into the hotel. The dress she wore clung to her like a second skin and her hair was in soft waves down her back. Her lips were red - just the way he liked them. Red lips that would stain his skin like wine. She would only get this dressed up for one person. The doors of the hotel bar were opened and in she stepped as though she owned the place.
She glanced around quickly and felt her heart flutter at the familiarity. The pianists fingers danced up and down the keys playing an eloquent melody, the clink of glasses of champagne and quiet chatter of guests could be heard like a gentle buzz. She didn't have to look very hard to spot him and she smiled as when saw him drinking scotch at the bar, the glass in one hand and his phone in the other, probably about to send her a text asking her once again what she was wearing tonight. She stifled a giggle thinking of how desperate he always was to know what she had on. It was his favourite thing, peeling her out of her materials and colours. She felt giddy as she walked towards him but she hid it well. She never felt like this with other clients. What she felt for this man was far beyond anything she'd ever felt for any other man but she couldn't tell him - she hoped he knew he was different from her actions but she wasn't too sure.
"Puis-je vous aider mademoiselle?" (Can I help you Miss?) a man with his hair slicked back and apron wrapped around her waist asked her, his accent was think and his smile smarmy. He was handsome but nothing compared to the bronze god she'd come to meet tonight.
"Je vais bien merci," (I'm fine thank you) she replied, barely looking at the man. Her eyes were too transfixed on the object of her desires taking a sip of his scotch. She felt her arousal simmer as she watched him swallow the liquid and lick his lips - those lips. She wondered what he'd do with those lips tonight. His hands were her next destination. Big manly hands that could do things to her she never thought were possible. Those talented, delectable hands. Her favourite part of him though she could only see where he looked at her - his beautiful eyes. She found every inch of him godly, had indeed licked and kissed every inch of his sculpted body but those eyes were what drew her in - the eyes were what kept her awake at night tossing and turning.
It was like he could sense her. He turned to look at her from across the bar and his eyes - those beautiful eyes widened as he took her in. She loved his reaction to her. His mouth always dropped open as though Aphrodite herself was stood before him with love in her eyes. He stood to greet her, wiping his hands of his trousers as though she was a fine piece of China and he wasn't worthy of touching her. Their eyes connected and her heart beat out of his chest. They'd done this so many times - they both knew what would happen now - but somehow every time still felt so new and exciting. She always forgot that this was a job. With every other client everything was a chore but with him it was an honour. She wanted to do the things they did, she wanted to go to bed with him - the wetness between her legs was enough proof of that.
"God, Rose, you look so beautiful. Did you dress up like this for me?" he groaned. She loved his voice. She once called him the only Englishman in Paris. He was from London and had come here to teach. His French was terrible and she always made jokes about it so they conversed in English. She swore from the first time she met him that his voice spoke directly to her ovaries. There was only so much perfection a girl could take and when she heard his voice, she was a goner. The second he started taking to her in bed - moaning his approval or whispering dirty words - she found herself on the brink of orgasm.
"This?" she asked looking down at the dress she was wearing, "I just threw this on, it's nothing special," she smirked and he laughed - that wonderful, musical laugh that sent a shiver down her spine and warmed her heart.
"Of all the bars in all of the world you had to walk into mine," he winked, signally the bartender so that he could buy her a drink.
"I wasn't aware you were on the deeds to the hotel," she grinned. This was what she loved between them - the banter, the friendship. With other clients it was almost mechanic. Little conversation - just straight to the hotel room, a quick fuck and then au revoir. She was Rose Jeanne with them - the mysterious woman who can to bring them pleasure but with him it was different. Sure, she was still Rose Jeanne instead of Anastasia Steele and he was still a client but with him it was different and she loved it.
"Un verre de vin blanc," (one glass of white wine) he told the bartender when he came over to them in a very poor french accent and she giggled. His head whipped around as soon as he heard the sound and he looked at her like she hung the moon, his hand clasping hers and bringing it to his lips. She blushed all over at his action - how he made the simplest things so sexy she'd never know.
The bartender brought over her glass and she took a sip sighing at the familiar taste. He knew her favourite drink but not much more. He didn't know her name or where she was from, he knew that she was 24 and that she was a French call girl but that was about it. She knew little about him in return. She knew that his name was Christian Grey, she knew that he was 32 years old, she knew that he was a professor here but she doesn't know what of (although she suspects he teaches English) and she knows that his wife died of cancer 2 years ago and he that he has a son called Teddy.
She only knew the last two parts because he sometimes had to call to cancel if he couldn't get someone to look after his son. She hated when that happened but she understood. Her manager Mrs Jones knew that if Christian Grey called, it was an immediate yes. Ana had told her once to switch around clients or even cancel on them if he called. Maybe it was because he was her favourite and she fantasised about him when she was with other men and on her own to make her aroused or maybe it was because she didn't enjoy her job and Christian made it fun and exciting, she'd never admit which one it was but it was probably a mixture of both.
"How is the wine?" he asked, giving her one of his signature smiles. The 'panty melting' smile as she liked to call it, because it made her want to pull down her expensive underwear and sit on his face. She grinned at him and leaned in close so that their faces almost touched, she rested her free hand on his thigh slowly moving it upwards. He answered her movement with a groan and she licked her lips - grey eyes locking with blue.
"Why don't you tell me?" she whispered before closing her eyes and touching her lips to his. Another rule broken. 'Never kiss clients' was one of the first rules on the handbook when Ana had been trained for her role at Mademoiselle Bleue. It was seen as too intimate. It was supposed to be mechanical. A quick fuck and that was it but she broke that rule the second that she had Christian Grey between her legs on their first night together. She'd been unable to resist taking his lips in a searing kiss and had become addicted to his taste every since. If her friends or Mrs Jones knew that she was kissing her client they would be shocked but she couldn't help it. There were other rules, most of which she followed but Christian Grey was the exception to any rule breaking.
She reluctantly pulled her lips from his after a few moments of sweet bliss and she noticed that his eyes had gone from light to stormy gray. She smirked and brushed her hand higher on his thigh - she knew that anyone could see them, she could feel eyes on them from every corner of the hotel bar but she didn't care. She wanted the man in front of her and she knew that he wanted her just as much. She could feel his desire for her through his suit trousers and she couldn't wait to feel him everywhere.
"Let's go to bed," he groaned, downing the last of his whiskey. Those four words send a shiver down Ana's spine and she could feel how wet she was on the seat of the bar stool. She moved her hand from his thigh, looking down at his crotch once more to admire the huge bulge that had grown while they'd been sitting and then took another sip of her wine loving the way his eyes followed her every movement.
"Let's go," she grabbed his hand and they headed for the elevator. There was supposed to be no touching or contact on the way up to the room. Nothing was supposed to happen until money exchanged hands and her time was bought but as soon as they stepped into the elevator, the sexual tension could be cut with a knife. He smiled at her, bringing her hand to his lips and she gulped down a breath. How was he so unbelievably sexy?
"You look so beautiful, I'm a lucky man," he grinned and that was all it took for her to mount him in the elevator, shoving him against the wall and shoving her tongue in his mouth. His hands grabbed her hips so hard she knew there would be marks when he finally released her but she relished in the feel of his fingers digging into her skin. She loved the rough contact and the sting of his lips moving from hers to nip and suck her jaw line.
The doors opened on the 4th floor and the couple jumped apart as two older women stepped in. It was clear what had just been going on from their disheveled hair to Ana's rumpled dress and the two women tutted in disgust. Ana tried to hold back a giggle while Christian smirked at her.
The women stepped off at the 6th floor and as soon as the doors shut they were all over each other again. The craving, the longing, the tension between them made for a lethal cocktail of lust. Hands gripped hair and clothing, lips and tongues battled for dominance. They only pulled away from each other when the bell dinged to signal that they had reached the 8th floor.
He grabbed her hand and she giggled as he pulled her along, his excitement to get her clothes off and get between her legs evident. He unlocked the door and switched on the light to the familiar room - always the same room. There were two rooms, a living room with a sofa, a dining table and a TV and a bedroom with an ensuite attached. It was all very luxurious with paintings on the walls and granite flooring and he heels clicked along as they headed inside.
"I'll be in the bedroom sweetheart," he whispered in her ear before he left her. She could hear his posh Italian leather shoes as they clicked across the granite and sighed. This was the part she hated. Usually clients handed her the money and watched as she counted it and it made her feel cheap. She'd count it and then do what she'd been paid to do. Christian had never done that, he'd come up after he'd paid for the hotel room and leave an envelope on the side with the money. It was just a reminder to her that he was her client, despite the way he made her feel.
She went over to the table and grabbed the envelope. She didn't need to count it - she knew he wouldn't shortchange her. She put the envelope in her bag and then went to find her copper haired lover.
He wasn't hard to find. He was laying on the bed wearing his dress pants and shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing her a hint of his strong biceps and his top button was undone giving her a limited view of dark chest hair. In a word, he looked delicious and utterly fuckable. He smiled at her and she smiled back slowly walking towards the bed. His gaze burned through her clothes trying to see what was beneath them.
"Take off the dress," he said, his voice hoarse and his eyes black with desire. She shuddered, his voice causing her whole body to ignite with desire.
"J'ai besoin de toi pour m'aider." (I need you to help me) She said softly and he smirked getting up from the bed and walking over to her. Was it possible for a walk to be sexy? Because Christian Grey definitely was. He was too hot for his own good. He stepped behind her and she shivered when she felt his hands on her back and his breath in her ear.
"I've been dying to see what's underneath this dress all night," he murmured, pulling on the zipper while kissing her neck. She closed her eyes and let out a moan at his mistrations looping her arms behind his neck and allowing the dress to fall to the floor. Usually her client and herself undressed in separate rooms and then met in bed, no words or physical interaction were involved in the transition. But she wanted Christian to take off her clothes, she wanted to feel his strong hands pulling apart her layers - unclipping her bra and moaning at the sight of her breasts, tearing down her panties, stroking his fingers over every piece of uncovered flesh.
The material of her black dress pooled around her ankles and she smirked when she heard his breath hitch at her matching underwear set. Her bra was strapless and made of black silk and so were her panties.
"What do you think?" she whispered, turning her head slightly to try and gauge his reaction.
"I think I need to be inside you, Rose." He murmured thrusting his hips against hers. She hummed and pulled away from him with a smile. She turning around and beckoned him towards her before climbing on the bed and laying back against the pillows.
She parted her legs in silent invitation and he didn't need to be asked twice. He crawled towards her until he was stopped in between her thighs and let his eyes rake all over her exquisite body. He kneeled in front of her and started to unbutton his shirt and she bit her lip in excitement as she watched the show. She'd once described him to one of her colleagues as a Bronzed god and he more than lived up to that description. His body looked like it had been carved by the gods themselves. Finally undoing the last button her pulled his shirt free from his trousers and threw it in the corner. Ana licked her lips letting her eyes take in the muscular form in front of her - he belonged in a gallery, not in bed with her.
"Baise-moi," (fuck me) she whimpered, biting her lip. He smirked and leaned down to kiss her lips his hands on either side of her face holding him above her. She felt trapped in his embrace and couldn't help but smile at him.
"We have hours ma chère (my dear) and I intend to use them all," he said, before his lips made contact with her neck - and then she was lost. Burning in a pit of fire as his lips trailed from her neck to her breasts, lavishing his tongue over them so that every inch had been touched by nis mouth and then taking her nipple into his mouth. She lay panting beneath him and moved one hand to his hair to play with the wavy locks.
"Mmm, Christian, more," she moaned, moving her hands to his belt to undo it as he kept his attentions of her chest.
She quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped him before using her feet to kick down his trousers and then his boxers until his large erection sprung free. Fuck he was big - he was going to rip her apart one day. She grabbed him in her hand, rubbing and squeezing - stroking him to a rhythm in her head. He leaned his head back at the feeling of her hands on his dick and groaned. God it felt so good. His fingers brushed down her stomach, curling around each hip tracing her delicate skin as though it was fine china before finally touching her where she needed him most.
She was soaked for him - she always was. No one else made her so unbearably aroused and her pussy practically cried a river whenever he was in her space. She'd never admit it out loud but she fantasised about him. She thought of him when she was in bed at night and wanted to come. She'd rub herself furiously thinking of his body, his mouth, his glorious cock. She had to think of him when she was with other clients in order to become aroused and it was so ridiculous in her mind. She saw him for mere hours at a time but he was on her mind for days after, her mind replaying every touch of his hands and kiss they had shared.
"I need you, I need to be inside you," Christian panted looking down at her. Blue eyes met gray ones both burning with desire and need. She opened her legs a little wider and reached over to the bedside table where he always left the condoms. She picked one up and handed it to him and he quickly ripped the foil and covered himself with the thin layer of latex. She brought her hands to his face and pulled him down to her lips kissing him passionately.
"S'il te plaît Christian baise-moi fort"(Fuck me hard, Christian, please) she whispered against his hips and then he slammed into her.
They both gasped at the contact and Christian let out a long moan of contentment closing his eyes for a moment. She felt unbelievable - like tight, wet suction drawing him in and he never wanted to leave her body. He started his fast rhythm, fucking her hard just as she asked and her answering moans and whimpers told him everything he needed to know. He kissed her neck and her chest as she left crescents on his back where her nails dug into the tight skin and muscle in pleasure.
"Feels so good, go deeper," she moaned, crying out when he hit the spot inside her which made the pleasure almost unbearable. The sex was just so good - she never thought it could be this amazing but every time with Christian was better than the last. "You make me so wet, you have no idea," she admitted and he almost came from those words alone.
"Rose," Christian moaned bringing his fingers to her clit and rubbing in circles to match the speed of his thrusts knowing he was going to blow his load at any moment and not wanting to dot it without her.
She screamed out when she came, seeing stars from the French sky in her eyes. She was barely coherent but she did recognise the shout from Christian as he came inside the condom. He collapsed beside her and they both lay panting, the only sound in the room apart from the low hum of the air conditioning. She rolled over to look at him and smiled when she saw that his eyes were closed and that his chest was rising up and down rapidly. She reached over to touch his chest, to feel his rapid heartbeat and he hummed.
"I don't think I've come that hard in a while," he murmured and she smiled.
"Me neither," she whispered with a giggle. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her, gray eyes surveying blue ones as though he didn't quite believe her. He brushed her hair out of her face and in a move that surprised her, picked her up and placed her in his lap where he was already hard and waiting. He grabbed another condom from the side and slipped it over his length.
"You're on top this time," he said. She smirked at him, entwining this fingers and sinking down on his lap moaning at the feel of his large penis stretching her walls and started to ride him both wondered how sex could possibly feel this good.
And that was how the night progressed, two more rounds and an exhausted 1 hour nap to gain a little strength back before she had to leave her lover. She caught a taxi back to her flat. She checked her phone to see she had two messages from Mrs Jones, one about her client list for tomorrow and one about working out her new schedule after she started her English literature course on Monday. She grinned with excitement as she thought about started the course. She wanted to do something with her life, once the money had been paid off she no longer wanted to be a 'call girl' she wanted to do English Literature with the hope of becoming a teacher and her best friend Kate has enrolled with her, making it even more exciting.
She loved the French language, she loved the way it rolled off the tongue and the familiarity of her surroundings but her father had always told her that if she was going to do anything, she should do something she loved and she adored English literature ever since she'd become fluent in the language. She'd packed and repacked her bag three times, had gone out stationary shopping and had looked at the course criteria online already and had rented the first two books from the library and started reading them in her spare time. She knew the course would be tough, but she hoped she'd be good enough at it to stay on the course and come out with a degree.
Ana replied to Mrs Jones confirming her schedule would be sent to her as soon as she got it on Monday and then climbed into her bed. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost 3am and grinned when she felt the delicious ache between her thighs that only came from having Christian Grey between them. And with her copper haired lover in her mind's eye, she fell into a restful sleep.
Monday morning
Ana woke up feeling like she'd barely been asleep 5 minutes when the alarm clock blared. She'd had an overnight appointment with Christian on Saturday - a rarity for them because of his son - and he had kept her up until the early hours of the morning of Sunday fucking the life out of her which she thoroughly enjoyed. Then on Sunday, which was usually her day off, Mrs Jones had given her 2 clients to make up for the lack of time she was able to give up because of her classes. Then Kate had called her on Sunday night excited for them starting their course and wanted to go through the books and what she needed to bring. It was safe to say Ana was exhausted.
She went into the bathroom to get ready for the day and then went into her closet to find something to wear. Being a call girl, she was given a budget to spend on nice clothes every month. She had a section for when she was 'Rose' with few special pieces for when she had to attend events with clients and a few sexy dresses - most of which she'd only worn for Christian. In the side section of her closet she had her 'normal' clothes for when she was Ana so she picked out a skirt and a cute T-shirt from her selection and pulled them on before putting on a little make up and grabbing her bag. She heard Kate come into the apartment with her key and shout up for Ana to hurry up. With a final spritz of perfume she hurried to meet her friend.
"Hey, you look gorgeous, I'm so excited," Kate beamed. She had a full book bag that resembled something a 6th grader would lug around.
"Hey, what's with the bag?" Ana asked taking a peek inside the massively overfilled bag to see what Kate had brought. She was worried she might have forgotten a vital piece of stationary or a book but Kate's bag was just full of stationary and notepads - she always went a little overboard.
"I was excited, I may have spent almost $50 on stationary," Kate shrugged and Ana giggled. The two girls headed out to Kate's car and started the drive to school. Kate's life was a lot different to Ana's.
She came from a pretty well off American family and lived in a different neighbourhood. Despite that they had become fast friends when they met in middle school and saw each other as much as they could. Ana had never told Kate about her alternative lifestyle. Her best friend had no idea she was a call girl or that she was in debt. Ana didn't want anyone to know both Ana and Rose in her life. As far as she was concerned they were two separate people and no one was aware the other existed bar Mrs Jones.
It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Kate, of course she did. But part of her was terrified that Kate would think of her differently after telling her. It wasn't exactly normal to confide in your best friend that you were a call girl who slept with men for money.
They got out of the car and followed sign posted directions until they reached their building for the semester.
"This is it Ana!" Kate giggled, linking her arm through her friends as they walked into the hall.
The professor wasn't there yet but most of the students were. The seating area was packed and the only place Ana and Kate could get a seat together was right at the front.
"What do you think our professor will be like?" Ana asked. She'd looked everywhere on the course criteria but couldn't find the name or the gender of her professor. So far he or she was a mystery.
"No idea. I hope its a hot man, could you imagine having eye candy teaching us English lit? I might never leave the hall," Kate said fanning herself with one of her many notepads. Ana giggled and turned to look at the rest of the students who were chattering and getting to know one another.
The doors at the back of the hall slammed open and a man walked out of them dressed in a crisp suit. Ana's heart dropped. It was Christian. He was her professor? Oh god, she hoped his was a bad dream.
"Holy shit he's gorgeous," Kate breathed next to her but she couldn't concentrate on anything but the man in front of her who had yet to notice her presence. Vivid images of him rocking above her naked, driving into her and calling out her alternate name came to mind and she shivered. This was wrong, this was so wrong.
Christian came to the desk and looked out over the students. He had yet to spot Ana but had noticed a number of female students looking at him dumbstruck with stars in their eyes.
"Bonjour, my name is Mr Grey, welcome to this English Literature course. This course will of course also be taught in English by me. First things first, I want to go around the class and get to know you all a little better. I will call your name on the register and I want you to stand up and tell me your favourite English author. D'accord?" (okay?)
The class nodded so Christian went about grabbing the register and sitting on his desk. He'd look up everytime he read a name to find a student standing waiting to give him his or her favourite English author. They were mostly the same - Hardly, Jane Austen, George Orwell, Lewis Carroll. The list of students went on and he tried to remember as many faces as he could.
"Katherine Kavanagh?" Christian called and Ana tried to hide her face by turning away from him as Kate spoke. She was dreading having to stand up not least because he'd become part of both worlds then. He'd know both Ana's - the one he fucked and the one he taught English to and that didn't sit right with her.
Christian moved on through the register gathering information until he came to Ana's.
"Anastasia Steele," he called out. At first no one stood up and he thought that maybe the girl hadn't come to her first day of class but then he noticed movement in the corner of his eye. His head shot to the left and his eyes widened as he took her in. It was Rose.
"I'm .. Ana and my favourite English author is Roald Dahl," she practically whispered unable to make eye contact with him before sitting down in her seat. Christian was dumbfound. Rose ... or Ana was in his class? She looked so beautiful, he couldn't help but stare at her for a moment or two longer.
Christian finished going through the register and some basic course criteria such as exam practice and techniques before setting his first assignment.
"It's due a week today and you can choose any author to write about. I want a 1500 word essay detailing a critique on a book of your choice handed in to me. It will be worth 5% of your final grade. Class dismissed." He said.
He wanted Ana to stay behind. He wanted to talk to her for a moment and try to sort this strange turn of events out but she practically shot of the room. He watched her go with a sigh before packing up his papers.