By 6:30 there's no response from Ana, so I assume she's still entertaining the quiet and unassuming Ray Steele. Given that they aren't related, they're remarkably similar.
I order the seafood risotto from room service and while I wait I read more of my book.
GRACE CALLS WHILE I'M reading.
"Christian, darling."
"Hello, Mother."
"Did Mia get in touch?"
"Yes. I have her flight details. I'll pick her up."
"Great. Now, I hope you'll stay for dinner on Saturday."
"Sure."
"And then on Sunday Elliot is bringing his friend Kate to dinner. Would you like to come? You could bring Anastasia."
That's what Kavanagh was talking about today.
I play for time. "I'll have to see if she's free."
"Let me know. It will be lovely to have all the family together again."
I roll my eyes. "If you say so, Mother."
"I do, darling. See you Saturday."
She hangs up.
Take Ana to meet my parents? How the hell do I get out of that?
As I contemplate this predicament, an e-mail arrives.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:23
To: Christian Grey
I can come over this evening to discuss if you'd like.
Ana
No, no baby. Not in that car. And my plans fall into place.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:27
To: Anastasia Steele
I'll come to you. I meant it when I said I wasn't happy about you driving that car.
I'll be with you shortly.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I print out another copy of the "Soft Limits" from the contract and her "Issues" e-mail because I've left my first copy in my jacket, which she still has in her possession. Then I call Taylor in his room.
"I'm going to deliver the car to Anastasia. Can you pick me up from her place--say, nine thirty?"
"Certainly, sir."
Before I leave I stuff two condoms into the back pocket of my jeans.
I might get lucky.
THE A3 IS FUN to drive, though it's got less torque than I'm used to. I pull up outside a liquor store on the outskirts of Portland to buy some celebratory champagne. I forgo the Cristal and the Dom Perignon for a Bollinger, mostly because it's the 1999 vintage, and chilled, but also because it's pink...symbolic, I think with a smirk, as I hand my AmEx to the cashier.
Ana is still wearing the stunning gray dress when she opens the door. I look forward to peeling it off her later.
"Hi," she says, her eyes large and luminous in her pale face.
"Hi."
"Come in." She seems shy and awkward. Why? What's happened?
"If I may." I hold up the bottle of champagne. "I thought we'd celebrate your graduation. Nothing beats a good Bollinger."
"Interesting choice of words." Her voice is sardonic.
"Oh, I like your ready wit, Anastasia." There she is...my girl.
"We only have teacups. We've packed all the glasses."
"Teacups? Sounds good to me."
I watch her wander into the kitchen. She's nervous and skittish. Perhaps because she's had a big day, or because she's agreed to my terms, or because she's here alone--I know Kavanagh is with her own family this evening; her father told me. I hope the champagne will help Ana relax...and talk.
The room is empty, except for packing crates, the sofa, and the table. There's a brown parcel on the table with a handwritten note attached.
"I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be; only--only--don't make it more than I can bear!"
"Do you want saucers as well?" she calls.
"Teacups will be fine, Anastasia," I respond, distracted. She's wrapped up the books--the first editions I sent her. She's giving them back to me. She doesn't want them. This is why she's nervous.
How the hell will she react to the car?
Looking up, I see her standing there, watching me. And carefully she places the cups on the table.
"That's for you." Her voice is small and strained.
"Hmm, I figured as much," I mutter. "Very apt quote." I trace her handwriting with my finger. The letters are small and neat, and I wonder what a graphologist would make of them. "I thought I was d'Urberville, not Angel. You decided on the debasement." Of course it's the perfect quote. My smile is ironic. "Trust you to find something that resonates so appropriately."
"It's also a plea," she whispers.
"A plea? For me to go easy on you?"
She nods.
To me these books were an investment, but for her I thought they'd mean something.
"I bought these for you." It's a small white lie--as I've replaced them. "I'll go easier on you if you accept them." I keep my voice calm and quiet, masking my disappointment.
"Christian, I can't accept them, they're just too much."
Here we go, another battle of wills.
Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.
"You see, this is what I was talking about, you defying me. I want you to have them, and that's the end of the discussion. It's very simple. You don't have to think about this. As a submissive you would just be grateful for them. You just accept what I buy you because it pleases me for you to do so."
"I wasn't a submissive when you bought them for me," she says quietly.
As ever, she has an answer for everything.
"No...but you've agreed, Anastasia."
Is she reneging on our deal? God, this girl has me on a roller coaster.
"So they are mine to do with as I wish?"
"Yes." I thought you loved Hardy?
"In that case, I'd like to give them to a charity--one working in Darfur, since that seems to be close to your heart. They can auction them."
"If that's what you want to do." I'm not going to stop you.
You can burn them, for all I care...
Her pale face colors. "I'll think about it," she mutters.
"Don't think, Anastasia. Not about this." Keep them, please. They're for you, because your passion is books. You've told me more than once. Enjoy them.
Placing the champagne on the table, I stand in front of her and cup her chin, tipping back her head so my eyes are on hers. "I will buy you lots of things, Anastasia. Get used to it. I can afford it. I'm a very wealthy man." I kiss her quickly. "Please," I add, and release her.
"It makes me feel cheap," she says.
"It shouldn't. You're overthinking it. Don't place some vague moral judgment on yourself based on what others might think. Don't waste your energy. It's only because you have reservations about our arrangement; that's perfectly natural. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
Anxiety is etched all over her lovely face.
"Hey, stop this. There is nothing about you that is cheap, Anastasia. I won't have you thinking that. I just sent you some old books that I thought might mean something to you, that's all."
She blinks a couple of times and stares at the package, obviously conflicted.
Keep them, Ana--they're for you.
"Have some champagne," I whisper, and she rewards me with a small smile.
"That's better." I open the champagne and fill the dainty teacups she's placed in front of me.
"It's pink." She's surprised, and I haven't the heart to tell her why I chose pink.
"Bollinger La Grande Annee Rose 1999--an excellent vintage."
"In teacups." She grins. It's infectious.
"In teacups. Congratulations on your degree, Anastasia."
We touch cups, and I drink. It tastes good, as I knew it would.
"Thank you." She raises the cup to her lips and takes a quick sip. "Shall we go through the soft limits?"
/> "Always so eager." Taking her hand, I lead her to the sofa--one of the only remaining pieces of furniture in the living room--and we sit, surrounded by boxes.
"Your stepfather's a very taciturn man."
"You managed to get him eating out of your hand."
I chuckle. "Only because I know how to fish."
"How did you know he liked fishing?"
"You told me. When we went for coffee."
"Oh, did I?" She takes another sip and closes her eyes, savoring the taste. Opening them again, she asks, "Did you try the wine at the reception?"
"Yes. It was foul." I grimace.
"I thought of you when I tasted it. How did you get to be so knowledgeable about wine?"
"I'm not knowledgeable, Anastasia, I just know what I like." And I like you. "Some more?" I nod toward the bottle on the table.
"Please."
I fetch the champagne and refill her cup. She regards me suspiciously. She knows I'm plying her with alcohol.
"This place looks pretty bare. Are you ready for the move?" I ask, to distract her.
"More or less."
"Are you working tomorrow?"
"Yes, my last day at Clayton's."
"I'd help you move, but I promised to meet my sister at the airport. Mia arrives from Paris early on Saturday. I'm heading back to Seattle tomorrow, but I hear Elliot is giving you two a hand."
"Yes, Kate is very excited about that."
I'm surprised Elliot is still interested in Ana's friend; it's not his usual MO. "Yes, Kate and Elliot, who would have thought?" Their liaison makes matters complicated. My mother's voice rings in my head: "You could bring Anastasia."
"So what are you doing about work in Seattle?" I ask.
"I have a couple of interviews for intern places."
"You were going to tell me this when?"
"Um... I'm telling you now," she says.
"Where?" I ask, hiding my frustration.
"A couple of publishing houses."
"Is that what you want to do, something in publishing?"
She nods, but she's still not forthcoming.
"Well?" I prompt.
"Well, what?"
"Don't be obtuse, Anastasia. Which publishing houses?" I mentally run through all the publishing houses I know of in Seattle. There are four...I think.
"Just small ones," she says evasively.
"Why don't you want me to know?"
"Undue influence," she says.
What does that mean? I frown.
"Oh, now you're being obtuse," she says, her eyes twinkling with mirth.
"Obtuse?" I laugh. "Me? God, you're challenging. Drink up, let's talk about these limits."
Her eyelashes flutter and she takes a shaky breath, then drains her cup. She's really nervous about this. I offer her more liquid courage.
"Please," she responds.
Bottle in hand, I pause. "Have you eaten anything?"
"Yes. I had a three-course meal with Ray," she says, exasperated, and rolls her eyes.
Oh, Ana. At last I can do something about this disrespectful habit.
Leaning forward, I take hold of her chin and glare at her. "Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee."
"Oh." She looks a little shocked, but a little intrigued, too.
"Oh. So it begins, Anastasia." With a wolfish grin I fill her teacup, and she takes a long sip.
"Got your attention now, haven't I?"
She nods.
"Answer me."
"Yes, you've got my attention," she says with a contrite smile.
"Good." I fish out her e-mail, and Appendix 3 of my contract, from my jacket. "So, sexual acts. We've done most of this." She shuffles closer to me and we read down the list.
APPENDIX 3
Soft Limits
To be discussed and agreed between both parties:
Does the Submissive consent to:
Masturbation
Cunnilingus
Fellatio
Swallowing Semen
Vaginal intercourse
Vaginal fisting
Anal intercourse
Anal fisting
"No fisting, you say. Anything else you object to?" I ask.
She swallows. "Anal intercourse doesn't exactly float my boat."
"I'll agree to the fisting, but I'd really like to claim your ass, Anastasia."
She inhales sharply, gazing at me.
"But we'll wait for that. Besides, it's not something we can dive into." I can't help my smirk. "Your ass will need training."
"Training?" Her eyes widen.
"Oh yes. It'll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me. But if we try it and you don't like it, we don't have to do it again." I delight in her shocked expression.
"Have you done that?" she asks.
"Yes."
"With a man?"
"No. I've never had sex with a man. Not my scene."
"Mrs. Robinson?"
"Yes." And her large rubber strap-on.
Ana frowns and I move on quickly, before she can ask me any more questions about that.
"And...swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that." I expect a smile from her, but she's studying me intently, as if seeing me in a new light. I think she's still reeling over Mrs. Robinson and anal intercourse. Oh, baby, Elena had my submission. She could do with me as she pleased. And I enjoyed it.
"So, swallowing semen okay?" I ask, trying to bring her back to the now. She nods and finishes her champagne.
"More?" I ask.
Steady, Grey, you just want her tipsy, not drunk.
"More," she whispers.
I refill her cup and get back to the list. "Sex toys?"
Does the Submissive consent to the use of:
Vibrators
Butt plugs
Dildos
Other vaginal/anal toys
"Butt plug? Does it do what it says on the box?" She grimaces.
"Yes. And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training."
"Oh. What's in 'other'?"
"Beads, eggs, that sort of stuff."
"Eggs?" Her hands shoot to her mouth in shock.
"Not real eggs." I laugh.
"I'm glad you find me funny." The hurt in her voice is sobering.
"I apologize. I'm sorry."
For fuck's sake, Grey. Go easy on her.
"Any problem with toys?"
"No," she snaps.
Shit. She's sulking.
"Anastasia, I am sorry. Believe me. I don't mean to laugh. I've never had this conversation in so much detail. You're just so inexperienced. I'm sorry."
She pouts and takes another sip of champagne.
"Right--bondage," I say, and we return to the list.
Does the Submissive consent to:
Bondage with rope
Bondage with leather cuffs
Bondage with handcuffs/shackles/manacles
Bondage with tape
Bondage with other
"Well?" I ask, gently this time.
"Fine," she whispers and continues reading.
Does the Submissive consent to be restrained with:
Hands bound in front
Ankles bound
Elbows bound
Hands bound behind back
Knees bound
Wrists bound to ankles
Binding to fixed items, furniture, etc.
Binding with spreader bar
Suspension
Does the Submissive consent to be blindfolded?
Does the Submissive consent to be gagged?
"We've talked about suspension. And it's fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods anyway. Anything else?"
"Don't laugh at me, but what's a spreader bar?"
"I promise not to laugh. I've apol
ogized twice." For Christ's sake. "Don't make me do it again." My voice is sharper than I intended, and she leans away from me.
Shit.
Ignore her reaction, Grey. Get on with it. "A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or wrists. They're fun."
"Okay. Well, gagging me. I'd be worried I wouldn't be able to breathe."
"I'd be worried if you couldn't breathe. I don't want to suffocate you." Breath play is not my scene at all.
"And how will I use safe words if I'm gagged?" she inquires.
"First of all, I hope you never have to use them. But if you're gagged, we'll use hand signals."
"I'm nervous about the gagging."
"Okay. I'll take note."
She studies me for a moment as if she's solved the riddle of the sphinx. "Do you like tying your submissives up so they can't touch you?" she asks.
"That's one of the reasons."
"Is that why you've tied my hands?"
"Yes."
"You don't like talking about that," she says.
"No, I don't."
I'm not going there with you, Ana. Give it up.
"Would you like another drink?" I ask. "It's making you brave, and I need to know how you feel about pain." I refill her cup and she takes a sip, wide-eyed and anxious. "So, what's your general attitude to receiving pain?"
She remains mute.
I suppress a sigh. "You're biting your lip." Fortunately, she stops, but now she's pensive and staring down at her hands.
"Were you physically punished as a child?" I prompt her gently.
"No."
"So you have no sphere of reference at all?"
"No."
"It's not as bad as you think. Your imagination is your worst enemy in this." Trust me on this, Ana. Please.
"Do you have to do it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
You really don't want to know.
"Goes with the territory, Anastasia. It's what I do. I can see you're nervous. Let's go through methods."
We read through the list:
Spanking
Whipping
Biting
Genital clamps
Hot wax
Paddling
Caning
Nipple clamps
Ice
Other types/methods of pain
"Well, you said no to genital clamps. That's fine. It's caning that hurts the most."
Ana pales.
"We can work up to that," I state quickly.
"Or not do it at all," she counters.
"This is part of the deal, baby, but we'll work up to all of this. Anastasia, I won't push you too far."
"This punishment thing, it worries me the most."
"Well, I'm glad you've told me. We'll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with everything else, we'll increase intensity. We'll take it slow."