Chapter Fourteen
Christian is standing over me, grasping a plaited-leather riding crop.
He’s wearing old, faded, ripped Levis and that’s all.
He flicks the crop slowly into his palm as he gazes down at me.
He’s smiling, triumphant. I cannot move.
I am naked and shackled, spread-eagled on a large four-poster bed.
Reaching forward, he trails the tip of the crop from my forehead down the length of my nose, so I smell the leather, and over my parted, panting lips.
He pushes the tip into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, rich leather.
“Suck,” he commands, his voice soft.
My mouth closes over the tip as I obey.
“Enough,” he snaps.
I’m panting once more as he tugs the crop out of my mouth, trails it down and under my chin, on down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat.
He swirls it slowly there and then continues to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, between my breasts, over my torso, down to my navel.
I’m panting, squirming, pulling against my restraints that are biting into my wrists and my ankles.
He swirls the tip around my navel, then continues to trail the leather tip south, through my pubic hair to my clitoris.
He flicks the crop and it hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I come, gloriously, shouting my release.
Abruptly, I wake, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm.
Holy hell. I’m completely disorientated.
What the hell just happened? I’m in my bedroom alone.
How? Why? I sit bolt upright, shocked…wow.
It’s morning. I glance at my alarm clock—eight o’clock.
I put my head in my hands. I didn’t know I could dream sex.
Was it something I ate? Perhaps the oysters and my internet research manifesting itself in my first wet dream.
It’s bewildering. I had no idea that I could orgasm in my sleep.
Kate is skipping around the kitchen when I stagger in.
“Ana, are you okay? You look odd. Is that Christian’s jacket you’re wearing?”
“I’m fine.” Damn, should have checked in the mirror. I avoid her piercing green eyes. I’m still reeling from my morning’s event. “Yes, this is Christian’s jacket.”
She frowns. “Did you sleep?”
“Not very well.” I head for the kettle. I need tea.
“How was dinner?”
So it begins.
“We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I’d say it was fishy.”
“Ugh…I hate oysters, and I don’t want to know about the food. How was Christian? What did you talk about?”
“He was attentive.” I pause. What can I say?
His HIV status is clear, he’s heavily into role play, he wants me to obey his every command, he hurt someone he tied to his playroom ceiling, and he wanted to fuck me in the private dining room.
Would that be a good summary? I try desperately to remember something from my encounter with Christian that I can discuss with Kate.
“He doesn’t approve of Wanda.”
“Who does, Ana? That’s old news. Why are you being so coy? Give it up, girlfriend.”
“Oh, Kate, we talked about lots things. You know—how fussy he is about food. Incidentally, he liked your dress.” The kettle has boiled, so I make myself some tea. “Do you want tea? Would you like me to hear your speech for today?”
“Yes, please. I worked on it last night over at Becca’s. I’ll go fetch it. And yes, I’d love some tea.” Kate races out of the kitchen.
Phew, Katherine Kavanagh sidetracked.
I slice a bagel and pop it into the toaster. I flush, remembering my vivid dream. What on earth was that about?
Last night, I found it hard to sleep. My head was buzzing with various options.
I am so confused. Christian’s idea of a relationship is more like a job offer.
It has set hours, a job description, and a rather harsh grievance procedure.
It’s not how I envisaged my first romance—but, of course, Christian doesn’t do romance.
If I tell him I want more, he may say no…
and I could jeopardize what he has offered.
And this is what concerns me most, because I don’t want to lose him.
But I’m not sure I have the stomach to be his submissive—deep down, it’s the canes and whips that put me off.
I’m a physical coward, and I will go a long way to avoid pain.
I think of my dream… Is that what it would be like?
My inner goddess jumps up and down with cheerleading pom-poms shouting Yes!
Kate comes back into the kitchen with her laptop. I concentrate on my bagel and listen patiently as she runs through her valedictorian speech.
I am dressed and ready when Ray arrives. I open the front door, and he’s standing on the porch in his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of affection.
He’s taken aback, bemused. “Hey, Annie, I’m pleased to see you, too,” he mutters as he hugs me. Setting me back down, his hands on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. “You okay, kid?”
“Of course, Dad. Can’t a girl be pleased to see her old man?”
He smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living room. “You look good,” he says.
“This is Kate’s dress.” I glance down at the gray chiffon halter-neck dress.
He frowns. “Where is Kate?”
“She’s gone to campus. She’s giving a speech, so she has to be early.”
“Should we head on over?”
“Dad, we have half an hour. Would you like some tea? And you can tell me how everyone in Montesano is getting along. How was the drive down?”
Ray pulls his car into the campus parking lot, and we follow the stream of humanity dotted with ubiquitous black and red gowns heading toward the gym.
“Good luck, Annie. You seem awfully nervous. Do you have to do anything?”
Holy crap…why has Ray picked today to be observant?
“No, Dad. It’s a big day.” And I’m going to see him.
“Yeah, my baby girl has gotten a degree. I’m proud of you, Annie.”
“Aw…thanks, Dad.” Oh, I love this man.
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 protected by them, anonymous.
There is no one on the stage yet, but I can’t seem to steady my nerves.
My heart is pounding, and my breathing is shallow.
He’s here, somewhere. I wonder if Kate is talking to him, interrogating him maybe.
I make my way to my seat amongst fellow students whose surnames also begin with S.
I am in the second row, affording me yet more anonymity.
I glance behind me and spot Ray high up in the bleachers.
I give him a wave. He self-consciously gives me a half-wave, half-salute back. I sit and wait.
The auditorium fills quickly, and the buzz of excited voices gets louder and louder. The row of seats in front fills. On either side of me, I am joined by two girls I don’t know from a different department. They’re obviously close friends and talk across me excitedly.
At eleven precisely, the chancellor 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 stand and applaud our teaching staff.
Some professors nod and wave; others look bored.
Professor Collins, my tutor and my favorite teacher, looks like he’s just fallen out of bed, as usual.
Last onto the stage are Kate and Christian. Christian stands out in his bespoke gray suit, copper highlights glinting in his hair under the auditorium lights. He looks so serious and self-contained. As he sits, he undoes his single-breasted jacket, and I glimpse his tie.
Holy shit…that tie!
I rub my wrists reflexively. I cannot take my eyes off him. He’s wearing that tie, on purpose no doubt. My mouth presses into a hard line. The audience sits down and the applause ceases.
“Look at him!” one of the girls beside me hisses enthusiastically to her friend.
“He’s hot.”
I stiffen. I’m sure they’re not talking about Professor Collins.
“Must be Christian Grey.”
“Is he single?”
I bristle. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh.” Both girls look at me in surprise.
“I think he’s gay,” I respond.
“What a shame,” one of the girls groans.
As the chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the proceedings with his speech, I watch Christian subtly scanning the hall.
I sink into my seat, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible.
I fail miserably as a second later his eyes find mine.
He stares at me, his face impassive, completely inscrutable.
I squirm uncomfortably, hypnotized by his glare as a slow flush spreads across my face.
Unbidden, I recall my dream from this morning, and the muscles in my belly do the delectable clench thing.
I inhale sharply. The shadow of a smile crosses his lips, but it’s fleeting.
He briefly closes his eyes and, on opening them, resumes his indifferent expression.
Following a swift glance up at the chancellor, he stares ahead, focusing on the WSUV emblem hung above the entrance.
He doesn’t turn his eyes toward me again.
The chancellor drones on, and Christian still doesn’t look at me. He just stares fixedly ahead.
Why won’t he look at me? Perhaps he’s changed his mind?
A wave of unease washes over me. Perhaps walking out on him last night was the end for him, too.
He’s bored of waiting for me to make up my mind.
Oh no, I could have completely blown it.
I remember his email last night. Maybe he’s mad that I haven’t replied.