50 shades of gray

Chapter 22- Two Kisses

"What will it be?" the waitress asks, oblivious to my plight.

"Erm," I stammer. "Can I be last?" I ask pathetically.

Kate grabs my menu from my hands. "She'll have the salmon but no pickled onion and I'll have the New York strip, medium rare. We'll split green beans." She gives both our menus to the waitress. She turns her head to me. "You'll like the salmon," she says softly but forcefully as the others order.

I completely miss the question Ethan asks me, I'm so distracted.

"What?"

"Jeez, Ana, I asked how it is you know Christian fucking Grey!" Ethan nearly shouts over the din of the other diners.

"Language!" his mother snaps.

Ethan ignores her. "So?" he asks me eagerly.

I sit there for a moment with my mouth slightly open, wanting to answer the question but Kate runs her hand along my thigh while Ethan was talking and now I'm worried at the sounds I might produce if I try to speak.

"She was covering for me," she answers on my behalf, letting her fingers run in overlapping circles on the inside of my knee. I close my mouth. "I was supposed to interview Christian Grey for the newspaper and was too sick to leave the apartment." Kate's fingers walk slowly up my skirt, skin on skin, for anyone to see. My pulse is racing and Kate looks cool as a cucumber.

My phone buzzes in my lap and I nearly climax. I do give a little shocked squeal in surprise and Kate takes her hand away.

*How's the seduction going?*

I text Christian back:

*LUNCH is going fine, thank you.*

When I look up, Kate is at my shoulder, reading from my phone. Belatedly, I try to hide it from her.

"Seduction?" she mouths, smirking.

She leans towards me, placing a hand behind me on the bench, letting her fingers press against my ass. Her moist lips touch the edge of my ear when she whispers, "Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Steele?"

What I wouldn't give for a tablecloth right now. All I can think about is her skin – I want to touch it, to smell it, to taste it, to feel it against my own. Instead, I listen to another of Mr. Kavanagh's awful semi-racist jokes and smile politely. Kate keeps inching closer to me, each time casually touching parts of my body. First it was my knee, then my back, my ear, my thigh, my arm, my neck. Just as her dad's starting in on another joke – "a rabbi, George W. Bush, and Tom Cruise walk into a bar" – Kate reaches awkwardly for the butter and manages to graze my breasts with the back of her hand.

I can't take it anymore!

I jump up abruptly. All four Kavanaghs stare at me in confusion.

"Uh," I stall. "I need to pee," I blurt out and make a mad dash for the restroom.

Once locked safely inside a bathroom stall that smells like eucalyptus and lemons, I lean back against the door and sigh.

I fish out my phone from my purse and quickly dial Christian's number. He picks up on the first ring.

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

His calm baritone voice answers, "Are you asking for help, Miss Steele?"

It's an interesting question – one I'm not quite sure the answer to. On the one hand, Christian could give me so much helpful advice here. He is far more experienced than I am and I have seen first-hand that he knows how to seduce a woman. On the other hand, he's made it perfectly clear that he is the jealous type. I don't need to rub his face in anything. Before I can decide how to answer, he speaks again.

"Let me teach you what to do, Ana." God, even just hearing him say my name is enough to make me sigh out loud. Then he says quietly, "Please."

And I get it. By asking me to follow him, he gives me all the power. And by allowing him to direct me, I give it right back to him. In this thing where he feels powerless and unrepresented, I can choose to include him.

I bow my head slightly, even though he can't see it. "Of course, sir."

There's a slight pause and then, his voice deeper, he says, "Good. You're in the restroom?"

I look around. How does he do that?

"Yes, sir."

"Are the walls tile?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. In a moment, Kate will most likely join you in the bathroom. When she comes in, grab her gently by the waist and push her against the tile wall. Not so hard she'll hit her head, but hard enough it makes a sound."

I hesitate before I answer.

"Yes, Mr. Grey."

"Kiss her hard. I want you to kiss her deeply and passionately. Hold her waist firmly against the tile."

He really wants me to do that?

"Yes, sir."

"Do not let your bodies touch. If she attempts to put her hands on you, grab her wrists and hold them above her head."

"Yes, sir."

"Once you feel like you can't breath, pull back from the kiss and bite her bottom lip. Step back from her, and walk out of the bathroom. Do not say anything. Is that clear?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good. Now, if she does not come into the bathroom in the next three minutes, call me back."

Click. He hangs up.

I stand there for a moment, looking at my phone baffled by the specificity of his instructions, then open the stall door and walk to the sink. I wash my hands, staring at myself in the mirror. I dry them on a paper towel and then Christian's prediction comes true.

Kate came looking for me.

"Ana, what are you doing in here?" she asks.

I set my brow and launch into the plan. Even though she's a couple inches taller than me, I'm wearing heels today, so we're nearly the same height. I take two long strides over to her, hooking my hands around her waist and all but slamming her against the wall. I kiss her just as Christian said, letting my mouth stretch around hers, muffling her surprised peep. My instincts tell me to press my entire body into hers, but Christian said not to, so I resist.

Once she's recovered from the shock and starts kissing me back – and oh gawd, what a kiss! – she does just as he said again and lifts her hands to touch me. Before she reaches my body, I take her forearms and lift them just above her head, pressing them into the wall as well. Her breathing gets significantly heavier at this and her hips buck towards mine. This I had not anticipated.

Thinking on the fly, I transfer both her wrists to one hand and place the flat of my other hand against her stomach, holding her still. There's a grumble of protest from Kate, but I just kiss her harder, letting my tongue wrestle with hers.

After a moment or two, Kate stops resisting. The temptation to run my hand down her arms is nearly unbearable. I so want to press my torso against hers and let her hands wander where I know they shouldn't. I think of Christian's insistence while he fucked me with his fingers that there are certain parts of me which are just for him. Thinking of that moment while kissing Kate has me dripping in my skirt. My breathing becomes painful.

Still holding Kate's wrists and waist firmly against the wall, I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and hold it with my teeth. We each open our eyes as I pull away slightly, tugging her lip slightly as I bite it. There's something dangerous in the look we exchange. I release her lip and manage to turn on my heel and stalk out of the restroom, pink in the face, just as one of the other patrons opens the door.

I don't immediately go back to the table, but walk up to the restaurant's bar and order a shot of whiskey. The idea of facing the Kavanagh clan right now is a bit daunting considering the images that are swirling in my head. For not the first time in the last few days, I fantasize about fucking Kate. Hard. Really hard. But the difference now is that in this fantasy, we're in the Red Room of Pain and Kate's bound to the four-poster bed while I do it.