Writing. Writing. Writing. A bit of painting, some more writing, a recipe or two, walking the dogs, dancing, knitting, and then more writing.
That’s about what my life amounts to these days. When I’m not at work at least. Or even when I am at work, I find some time to write.
In addition to the several fanfic stories that I have going, I’m also writing my own book series. I hope to have it published sometime soon, in the next year or so!
This is my one shot for the Lyric Wheel Challenge from the FSOG FF Facebook Page. Vip Mehta assigned Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra. Ana is moving in with CG after the Belt Incident. He shows her exactly what she means to him.
SONG INSPIRATION: Fly Me To The Moon, Frank Sinatra
Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On a-Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me
Fill my heart with song
And let me sing for ever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you
Fill my heart with song
Let me sing for ever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, in other words
I love… you
Songwriter(s): Bart Howard
Copyright: Hampshire House Publ. Corp., Palm Valley Music LLC
Lyrics from <a href=”http://www.elyrics.net”>eLyrics.net</a>
In Other Words, I Love You
Ana is moving in this weekend. She is officially packing up all of her belongings from her Pike Market condo and having them moved here. Simply based on the fact that she spends nearly every night here anyway, and my powers of persuasion, I convinced her to make the logical choice and live here. With me.
I’ve never lived with a woman before. Another first with my Anastasia. Would the new beginnings and new experiences ever end? I surely hope not. I love spending every free moment with my brunette goddess, learning how to be normal, and learning how to accept her love. She told me she loves me. I beat her with a belt and she tells me she loves me. I can’t figure out her brain. She loves me and then she leaves me for a week.
It was the most miserable week of my existence. Without my goddess at my side, I was a complete wreck. Then by some sheer miracle, she agreed to return with me. My angel consented to resume a relationship with me and now to move in.
She’s on her way now with her first car load of things. I told her that I would hire movers and she wouldn’t have to do anything, which she agreed to, but she said these few things, she wanted to move on her own. Things that were sentimental and important to her. “I don’t want the movers’ grubby hands all over these things,” she’d said.
The sound of the elevator dinging her arrival pulls me from my musings. “Hello,” I squeak. She looks glorious. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, random tendrils falling all around her face. She’s been running around packing all day, so her skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She glistens and glows as if truly an angel come from heaven or a goddess down from Mount Olympus.
“Hi,” she replies, shyly. “I guess I’ll need to get my driver’s license updated.” I take a moment to gaze upon her delectable body. She’s wearing a pair of navy-blue yoga capris with a sky blue tank top. Her feet are wrapped in an old pair of tennis shoes. I’ll have to procure a new pair for her post haste.
“Later,” I say. “Right now, I want to peel you out of those clothes and have you. Right here in the foyer.”
“But what about Taylor or Mrs. Jones?” she worries, looking around for their presence.
“They’re away,” I answer. “Come here, Anastasia.”
“I think we should talk first,” she retorts, pushing away from me. “Christian, I love you. You beat me with a belt and I still love you. But that doesn’t mean that we can just pick up where we left off. I won’t be your submissive. I won’t just jump into bed with you every time you want me to.”
“But you want it, too,” I reply. “I can tell.” I pull her against me, feeling her body warm underneath my touch. “Come to bed with me.”
“I have unpacking to do. You can have me later,” she answers, pulling away from me and heading towards the kitchen. “I want lunch. Are you hungry?”
“Not for food, baby.”
“Wow, I’m actually going to cook. I’m going to make food and eat something, and you’re still trying to get in my pants. What happened to ‘you must eat, Anastasia’?”
“Fine, what are we having?” I relent.
“Tuna melts?” she offers.
I sit at the breakfast bar and watch as she deftly chops up a cold tuna fillet, mixes it with some concoction of ranch dressing, sour cream, Worcestershire sauce and a few spices. She adds chopped celery, dill pickles and onions to the mix. She then spreads them onto crescent roll dough and rolls them up before covering them with Muenster cheese.
“Fly me to the moon, baby,” I say noting the shape of the tuna melts.
“Quoting Sinatra now? You’re really trying to get me in bed.”
“By any means necessary,” I agree.
“Swing me amongst the stars and then I’ll consider it,” She replies, as she puts the melts into the oven and serves them. That gives me a novel idea, and I quickly step out on to the balcony to make a few phone calls. First to Taylor, then to Ros, next to Roach at SIP, one to Tiffany’s, and finally to my real estate agent. Once I return, I head to the wine cooler and select a bottle of frascati, her favorite. After pouring the wine, she takes a small sip before digging into her pair of crescent shaped tuna melts.
I follow suit and moan my approval of her cooking. “You’re a genius in the kitchen, baby. This is delicious.”
“Thanks, Christian,” she replies. She seems quiet and shy, and I can’t figure out what’s eating at her. “Are we going to talk?”
“What is there to talk about?”
“Do I need to write it down in a contract and have you sign it? Oh wait, no actually, no more contracts. No more punishments. No more going thermonuclear when you get angry with me.”
“Yes, thermonuclear. You overreact so horribly whenever I do something that you don’t like. There are going to be times when we make each other mad. There will be things that we each will do that the other won’t like. I can promise that I will not lie to you, I will be true to you, and I will always love you. Everything else is just details, aspects of every relationship. We’re going to have fights; we’re going to be upset with each other.
“I need you to promise me that when you’re upset with me, that you’ll simply talk to me. You won’t shut me out, you won’t try to take me over your knee, or hit me with things. Because I haven’t signed any contracts, nor agreed to any of those things on that list, anything you do to me in that regard can be listed as domestic violence.” My eyebrows shoot up at her words. “I get that I asked for it last time. I told you to show me how bad it could get. And when I realized I can’t handle it, I left.
“I won’t be in an abusive relationship, Christian. Emotionally or physically abusive. Yes, you’ve beat me, but that isn’t half as bad as what you could do with words. If you want me, if you want to be with me, in a relationship with me, I need you to promise that you won’t do those things. And I need to tell you that if you do, I will leave. And this time, I won’t come back.”
She means it. I have to completely change for her. The idea of her leaving me again makes me sick. I can’t punish her when she makes me upset, nor can I take out my day to day frustrations on her. Not with whips and canes anyway. Perhaps I can work off the stress by simply fucking her senseless. She seems to enjoy that quite a bit. “Okay,” I agree. She freezes.
“I promise,” I continue. I get off the stool, pull her with me and head out to the balcony. I sit her in one of the lounge chairs and kneel in front of her. On both knees, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea. “I promise that I will never lay a hand on you in anger. I will never say cruel words to you, nor shut you out when things get bad. I won’t lie to you or hide the truth from you, I will always be honest with you, in all things. But I need you to promise me something in return.”
“What’s that?” she asks, breathless.
“I need you to promise to accept gifts when I give them, to let me spoil you and treat you like the goddess you are. I need you to promise to call me out on my bullshit and let me know when I’m reaching the end of your tolerance for my antics. I’m fifty shades of fucked up, baby, and I need your help. Will you help me?”
“Yes, Christian. I will help you. I love you.”
“Thank you, baby. I don’t deserve you, but thank you so much for being mine.”
“I’ll always be yours, Christian,” she tells me. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, though. I love that you call me goddess, but I already think of you as Adonis, which is another god. So if I’m a goddess, then you’re a god. I want to be equals, Christian. Partners. I want you to trust me to be that for you.”
“Agreed,” I answer. “Let’s go somewhere tonight.”
“Fiji,” I reply.
“Fiji? Christian we can’t just go to Fiji. You have work; I have work. The movers haven’t arrived. We can’t just drop everything and go on vacation.”
“Yes, we can. I just booked it, got your time off and mine. We’ll take my private jet. I’ve arranged for a wardrobe to be provided to you at my villa there.”
“You have a villa in Fiji?”
“As of about twenty minutes ago, yes.”
“Is that the phone call you made?” she accused, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes, and to Taylor to have the plane prepared, to Ros to have her take over the business for a few days, to Roach at SIP to secure your time off, and lastly to my Real Estate agent, who secured a lovely villa in Fiji for you and I to vacation to for the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks?! I can’t be away from work for two weeks, Christian. I just started!”
“You can, I own SIP, Ana. You definitely can.”
Oh shit, I hadn’t told her that.
“You know what? Never mind. Of course you bought SIP. Why am I not surprised? Fine, let’s go to Fiji. Two weeks? Sounds great. Maybe I’ll get a tan. But let me tell you something, Mr. Grey. If you think for one minute that you are getting anywhere near my nether regions for the duration of the flight, you’ve got another thing coming.” What?! “That’s right, Mr. CEO. I’m cutting you off. Starting now and ending when I decide. And don’t you dare try to change my mind. The next time we make love will be when I am ready. I will not have you trying to seduce me, persuade me or convince me. If the word sex even comes out of your mouth, I’ll extend the celibacy by six months.”
She stands up abruptly and heads back into the house, leaving me in a daze. “When does the plane leave, Taylor?” she asks the man who just entered the foyer.
“In the next two hours, Miss Steele.”
“Call me Ana, Taylor,” she requests.
And then my world is thrown into a spiral. Ana won’t even sit in the seat next to mine let alone let me convince her to head back into the bedroom on the plane. “How many homes do you own?” she asks, as if wanting to have a normal conversation with me. Meanwhile, she’s wearing a black cocktail dress that has no back, no sleeves and is very, very short. On her feet is a pair of sky high Louis Vuitton heels, adorned with rhinestones and crystals. Her legs are crossed and she’s bobbing one foot to an unknown rhythm, throwing prisms of light all over the cabin when the sun hits her shoe. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Escala, one in Aspen, an apartment in Manhattan, and now Fiji,” I answer honestly.
“Manhattan,” she echoes. “I’ve never been to New York. Perhaps we can go there on our next vacation.”
“We?” I ask, my heart filling with hope.
“Yes, we,” she replies as if it was obvious. “Christian, just because I cut you off temporarily doesn’t mean I don’t want this vacation. You’re right, we could use a vacation. I just don’t like that you unilaterally made the decision to go on it. That you went behind me and talked to my boss’ boss about giving me time off. That you bought SIP just so you could keep a close eye on me.” She holds her hand up to keep me from protesting. “Don’t deny it, Christian. I can read you like a book. You don’t like my boss because he has a penis and that apparently gives you the right to buy the company so you can keep him on his toes and fire him at a moment’s notice if you think he looks at me wrong.”
“Has he looked at you wrong?” I’m glaring at an invisible image of Jack Hyde.
“Oh for God’s sake Christian,” she replies, throwing her hands up in the air. “You know that I love you. I’ve told you several times now. No matter how many men look at me or ask me out or flirt with me, you are the one that I want. You are the one that I chose. You need to trust me. And so help me if you say, ‘I do trust you, it’s them I don’t trust,’ I’ll slap that glare right off your face.” Well, she took the words right out of my mouth.
“What about no punishments?” I retort.
“Fair point well made, Mr. Grey. Fine, I won’t slap the glare off your face, but I will withhold sex from you.”
“More celibacy?” I complain.
“It seems to be the only thing that works, Christian. The only way you take me seriously and listen to me is when I threaten to keep sex off the table. You use it as a weapon to get me to do what you want, so I’ll do the same. Just in a different way.”
“You’re fighting with fire, Anastasia,” I admonish.
“Yes, like you. Now I’m tired; I’m going to go lay down for a while. You’re welcome to join me, but no funny business.” She stands up and saunters into the bedroom, swinging her delectable hips as she goes. I follow behind her like an obedient puppy, hoping she’ll let me at least hold her.
“Shall I open the drapes?” I ask. “The sun is setting; it’ll be a beautiful sight up here.”
“Sure,” she agrees, as she steps out of her heels and lays down on the bed. She turns towards me and beckons me to her. “I realize that by denying you, I’m denying myself, too. And you are so god damn sexy, Christian.”
“I’ll agree to anything you’ve said today, Ana. I just want you so bad. It’s the only way I know how to show you how I feel. By doting upon you and taking you on unexpected trips.”
“Show me how you feel? Why can’t you tell me how you feel?”
I lay down beside her, facing her. “I don’t know how,” I admit.
“Try,” she requests, reaching out to caress my face. I pull away from her and reach to the drapes to open them. “It’s beautiful,” she adds as she gets up from the bed and joins me at the large window. “The sunset at forty-thousand feet.” She steps in front of me, reaches behind herself and grasps my wrists, pulling my arms around her.
“This is what I want, Christian. Ropes and floggers are fun, but they have a time and place. This… this feeling that I have right now. Being here with you. This is what makes me happy.”
“All I want is to make you happy, Ana. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you smile and giggle, baby.”
“You’re happy with me?” she asks.
“Of course I am,” I reply. “With all of my submissives, I never wanted emotions. I never wanted more. With you, though. I want more. I want this too, watching the sunset with you in my arms, warming my soul, and my heart. We’re flying to the moon together, baby.”
“Hold my hand,” she says, I take her hands in mine, bringing them to my lips. “Baby, kiss me.” I realize she’s continuing the song lyrics. It also comes to my attention that this is the perfect moment.
“I made one additional call today,” I tell her.
“You were on the balcony for a while.”
“You inspired me with the song, baby. So I took that inspiration to the extreme. And I got you something.”
“Something more than a villa in Fiji?”
“The villa is for us, Ana. And my family or yours can use it whenever they like. This is something that’s for you.” I head to the pile of luggage and fish out the simple brown paper shopping bag that contains a not so simple gift inside.
I hand her the bag and watch as she pulls out the tissue paper and gazes upon the tiffany box at the bottom. “Oh my god. Christian… is this what I think it is?”
“That entirely depends on what you’re thinking.”
“Will you be getting down on one knee?” she asks.
“Not yet. But it’s related.”
She furrows her brow at me but reaches in for the small box. Pulling it out, she rolls it in her fingers a while before opening it. First there’s a piece of paper, complete with some of the lyrics to Frank Sinatra’s Fly me to the Moon.
Fill my heart with song
Let me sing forever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true.
In other words, I love you.
Ana looks up at me after reading that last line. “You do?” she asks, astonished.
“Yes, Ana. I do. More than anything. Look underneath it.” She turns back to the box in her hand and removes the paper. Underneath is a ring. A crescent shaped Opal set against a black onyx background, with 5 marquis diamonds. “You’ve already flown me to the moon, Ana. We are among the stars together.”
“Christian it’s beautiful,” she says, tears filling her eyes.
“It’s my promise to you, that as long as you’re mine, you’ll always be my universe. You are my moon and stars, Ana. I love you.”
She throws her arms around me and kisses me fiercely. “Take me, Christian.”
“What happened to the no sex?” I ask.
“Forget it. I want you. I love you, and you love me. I want to show you how much I love you.”
And that she does. Over and over until we land in Fiji.
Story published with permission of the author. FSOG characters remain the property of EL James. Lyrics remain the property of the composer/lyricist/record company. No copyright infringement intended.