fifty-shades-of-grey

on top of the building, and I’m nervous about the fact that I’m standing at least thirty storieshigh in an unenclosed space. Christian wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me tightlyagainst him.“Come,” he shouts above the noise of the wind. He drags me over to an elevator shaftand, after tapping a number into a keypad, the doors open. It’s warm inside and all mirroredglass. I can see Christian to infinity everywhere I look, and the wonderful thing is,he’s holding me to infinity too. Christian taps another code into the keypad, then the doorsclose and the elevator descends.Moments later, we’re in an all-white foyer. In the middle is a round, dark wood table,and on it is an unbelievably huge bunch of white flowers. On the walls there are paintings,everywhere. He opens two double doors, and the white theme continues through the widecorridor and directly opposite where a palatial room opens up. It’s the main living area,double height. Huge is too small a word for it. The far wall is glass and leads on to a balconythat overlooks Seattle.To the right is an imposing ‘U’ shaped sofa that could sit ten adults comfortably. It facesa state-of-the-art stainless steel – or maybe platinum for all I know - modern fireplace.The fire is lit and flaming gently. On the left beside us, by the entryway, is the kitchen area.All white with dark wood worktops and a large breakfast bar which seats six.Near the kitchen area, in front of the glass wall, is a dining table surrounded by sixteenchairs. And tucked in the corner is a full size, shiny black grand piano. Oh yes… he probablyplays the piano too. There is art of all shapes and sizes on all the walls. In fact, thisapartment looks more like a gallery than a place to live.“Can I take your jacket?” Christian asks. I shake my head. I’m still cold from the windon the helipad.“Would you like a drink?” he asks. I blink at him. After last night! Is he trying to befunny? For one second, I think about asking for a margarita – but I don’t have the nerve.“I’m going to have a glass of white wine, would you like to join me?”“Yes, please,” I murmur.I am standing in this enormous room feeling out of place. I walk over to the glass wall,and I realize that the lower half of the wall opens concertina-style on to the balcony. Seattleis lit up and lively in the background. I walk back to the kitchen area – it takes a fewseconds, it’s so far from the glass wall – and Christian is opening a bottle of wine. He’sremoved his jacket.“Pouilly Fumé okay with you?”“I know nothing about wine, Christian. I’m sure it will be fine.” My voice is soft andhesitant. My heart is thumping. I want to run. This is seriously rich. Seriously over-thetopBill Gates style wealthy. What am I doing here? You know very well what you’re doinghere - my subconscious sneers at me. Yes, I want to be in Christian Grey’s bed.“Here.” He hands me a glass of wine. Even the glasses are rich… heavy, contemporary,crystal. I take a sip, and the wine is light, crisp, and delicious.“You’re very quiet, and you’re not even blushing. In fact – I think this is the palest I’veever seen you, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “Are you hungry?”I shake my head. Not for food.“It’s a very big place you have here.”