My skirt is too tight. To make things worse, my ass is burning from the thin strip lodged between my buttocks. Kate just insisted that I had to wear a thong when wearing tight skirts, because panty lines are "so not in style."

I inconspicuously try to adjust my underwear so that no one sees, but it doesn't help much. The thong is still rubbing in all the wrong ways and I'm surrounded by a bunch of people-I can't just dig into my ass in front of everyone.

Now that would be "so out of style."

I cross and uncross my legs, trying to get into a position that isn't so uncomfortable. I know I probably look like I have to pee, which just adds to my already awkward demeanor.

Today is my first day at my new job.

My dream job.

Me, Anastasia Steele, is now a co-host for the radio show Late Night Talks on WZYX 99.7.

It's a radio show, no ones going to see me, but Kate just insisted I needed to make a great impression. Her exact words were, "There is only 20% of female solo radio hosts, Ana! If you want to have your own show one day, your boss has to at least think you're hot. It's a sure fire way that he'll keep you around. Play the game right, honey. Use these," She barbarically grabs my chest, "and this." She points to my head, implicating that she means my brain.

Katherine Kavanaugh: anti-feminist and unaware of personal boundaries.

But lo and behold I still listened to her. She had a point. Every solo radio host at WZYX was a male-I checked.

So it's me against them, and we all know men stick with men. I've already got talent, looking good couldn't hurt that much. I inwardly groan, however, as I think about it.

Really, Ana? A workplace full of men?

Ugh, I sincerely hope I won't be their source of entertainment.

I look at my watch. 10:45 pm.

It's fifteen minutes and still no sign of my boss, where could he be? Please don't tell me he's completely forgotten about the job he employed me with a week ago.

Some people are messing with the sound technology, other are working on the mics, others are lounging in the corner laughing and joking, and then there's me.

Squirming around in a hard, uncomfortable chair.

Okay, Steele, it's time to put on your big girl panties-which I guess I've kinda already done.

If my boss won't find me, then I'll find him.

I pull down my skirt, which has ridden up as I was sitting and start to walk down the hallway in search of the short, pudgy man I call my boss.

Leonard Smalls. That's his name. I'll try not to wear it out.

Leonard-which is quite a dorky name if I say so myself-is big in all the wrong places. His head is a fat, round stump on top of his neck, which is balding by the way. He has only a small patch of hair on the sides, which are permanently curled from the sweat that always builds up on his body.

The first thing I noticed about him was the stench. Underneath his arms, atop his head, his palms even, were large puddles of sweat. I wasn't too thrilled to shake his hand, but Leonard is a sweet man.

He's not a looker, he's actually kind of rough on the eyes-but he's a good person. Very warm and caring. I'm quite happy to have him as my first ever serious boss.

As I continue down the hallway, keeping my skirt from inching up and trying to keep my balance in the tall heels I'm wearing-I'm stopped by a man.

Not my boss. I roll my eyes.

"Hi, my names Mike. You're new here, right?" He asks.

Mike is tall, with dusty blonde hair and ocean blues eyes. His demeanor is warm and I think we'll be great friends. He seems like a nice man. Or boy, I should say. Of course I have no room to talk, I'm only 22. But Mike still has a baby face, his cheeks round and chubby. It's actually kind of cute.

Mike stares down at me with a smile on my face, waiting for me to reply.

I smile back. "Yes, I'm Ana. It's really nice to meet you."

I outstretch my hand, waiting for him to accept my offer of a handshake.

He does.

His hands are rough and large, but yet warm at the same time.

"It's nice to meet you too. So what do you plan on doing here? I'm a sound technician. I work on all the mics and wiring," he says proudly, a twinkle in his eyes.

Boys and their toys.

I still smile, however, at his enthusiasm.

"Sound technician, huh? That's cool, but I couldn't do that. I'm not too great with technology.."

Who the hell am I kidding? It takes me an hour just to work my coffee maker.

"But, I'm here to-"

My sentence that was about to be delivered to Mike is cut short by a loud crash. Both of us turn to find the source of the sound and we find out it's coming from the recording room.

Two men are fighting, one with slicked back blonde hair, the gel glistening from the bright lights filtered around the room.

The blonde man has a scar on his cheek, right under his left eye. It's deep and pink, the gash crooked and jagged. It looks like it was painful.

I shudder from the ominous look in his eyes. They're blue, but are almost black from the intensity with which he holds. The man he's looking back at has copper hair that is dreadfully unruly.

Gosh, doesn't he own a comb?

I can't see his face, since it is obscured by Mr. Smalls, who's trying to keep everything and everyone under control. However, I can imagine his face, and it's probably just as unruly as his hair.

I imagine a long, scruffy beard, small, beady eyes, and an unkempt clothing attire.

Mr. Smalls escorts out the blonde haired man, grabbing him roughly by the collar.

I've never seen Mr. Smalls so mad.. But I guess that's due to the fact that I only met him once and that was a week ago.

They both make their way out into the hallway, my boss looking flustered, enraged, and even more sweaty than usual, and the blonde haired man has a weird, crooked grin on his face.

It almost matches the scar on his cheek. I shudder, standing closer to the wall as they walk past us.

"Ana, you're on in ten minutes. Go in the recording room and Christian'll tell you want to do. You're on with him tonight."

I sigh. Of course he would put me with the psycho MMA fighter my first night. I nod my head though and suck it up.

I turn towards Mike and he looks impressed with my job description.

"Duty calls, see you around," I say.

"Yeah, definitely," Mike enthuses.

My heart is warmed from the genuine and excited smile graced on his face.

That guy is going to be my best friend. Well, second-best, best friend. Kate would shit herself if she found out she was being replaced.

As I walk away from Mike and towards the psychotic man in the recording room, my heart starts to pound. Not because I'm afraid of him-I don't think he's that crazy, but because this is my first night on-air! My first night being exposed to an audience much bigger than my parents and Kate.

This is really happening to me. My palms are getting sweaty and there's butterfly's dancing around in my stomach. This is it.

This moment can make or break my career.

As I walk into the room, I realize that it might not be my hosting skills that could break me, but it very well could be the man standing in front of me.

"Hi, I'm Christian."

Oh god.

Remember that face I imagined that went along with that unruly hair?

It was wrong.

Completely and utterly wrong.

No, Christian was not a scrub. He was a model. A statue chiseled to perfection. The guy every middle-aged woman imagines when she's reading one of those smutty romance novels.

Christian was perfect...

Then I woke up from the haze I was in.

Yes, he has a pretty face, but I'm not going to be like all those stupid girls I imagine he has fawning over him.

This is a work environment, and I will not allow him to have me flustered.

Although I wouldn't really mind if he had me flustered...

Daytime or nighttime.

In a bed, or a shower... Maybe even a car.

Oh my god, no. Stop those thoughts now, Steele.

"I'm Ana," I murmur brusquely.

I am soo not going to act like a skittish little girl with a high school crush.

I'm Anastasia Steele, goddamnit. Nobody messes me up.

I push past his outstretched hand and make my way into the recording seats. There is a large mic sat in front of me, with headsets next to it.

I start to put on my headsets when the sex god stops me.

"Do you want a wire or a mic?" He asks politely.

Now that I look at him again, he has a really, really sweet face.

His eyes are a peculiar shade of grey, but the warmth in them is palpable. Underneath his eye is a small red bump, which I'm guessing is going to turn into a purplish-blue bruise by tomorrow.

The blonde haired guy must've given him that for sure. I never understood why people fight. Just remove yourself from the situation without getting physical.

It's quite easy to do.

"Um.. I don't know, what do you suggest?" I ask, meekly.

I don't feel comfortable being too rude when he's being nothing but polite.

I'm surprised, actually. I was expecting him to be a domineering, cocky, rude asshole.

"Well, it depends. If you're relaxed and the topics that we get don't get you riled up, then use the mic. But, if you're a person who really gets into a topic, then you should probably get a wire.

"You know, so you can stand up, pace the room, ya know?" He says, his hands gesturing while he talks to emphasize his point.

Hmm, what kind of person am I?

"I'll take the wire," I state matter-of-factly.

"Good choice, me too."

Oh, yeah. I know you get riled up.. I say mentally.

He passes me a small instrument with a microphone at the top, and a medium- sized, square box at the base.

I'm guessing the box holds all the audio equipment that allows us to be heard.

Christian turns on the box, so it lights up green. He clips it behind him to his belt buckle and clips the microphone part on his shirt collar.

Christian is dressed quite relaxed. No dress pants, no suit or tie... And it only adds to make him look sexier. He's just dressed simply.

I copy his actions and soon we're both mic-ed up... Or wired up, I guess I should say.

"All right, you ready?" He asks.

I nod.

Ha. No I'm not. I'm nervous as shit, I'm probably going to piss myself any minute now.

I really should've used the bathroom before I came in here.

"Oh, yeah, this is your first time. I almost forgot," he exclaims.

"Yep. Hopefully I won't make a fool of myself," I mumble.

"So you're a radio-show virgin, huh? Don't worry, I'm really good with virgins," he winks.

My stomach drops at his double-meaning.

Never mind, he is a cocky asshole.

Mike stumbles into the room to check to see if everything is okay with our audio and if everything is hooked up correctly.

Another man stumbles in a minute before we're on-air and checks to see if the control buttons are working.

Everything seems to be working perfectly, so our show is definitely going on tonight.

"And in five... Four... Three.."

He holds up his fingers for two and one.

"Hello, everybody! You're listening to Late Night Talks on WZYX 99.7.

For our regular listeners, you should already know who I am,"

I quirk my eyebrows at his choice of words.

"But for our newbies, I'm the main host, Christian Grey and today with me is my new co-host,"

Wait, what? This bastard-a very sexy, good-looking bastard, don't get me wrong-is who I'm going to be co-hosting with for my duration at WZYX?

Ha! Great.

"Anastasia Steele-"

"It's Ana, I liked to be called Ana," I blurt out, then instantly regret it.

Shit! We're on live radio and I get snappy about my name?

Christian furrows his eyebrows and throws his arms out-which is universal language for "what the fuck?"

"Oh-kayy, Ana. Introduce yourself for our lovely audience."

"Well, Christian you just did that didn't you?"

He gives me the "what the fuck?" look again.

"As you can see, my co-host is uh, a peculiar one."

I quirk my eyebrows again.

"But tonight, we're taking in calls for the whole duration of the show and we'll be answering your questions."

Oh, this should be interesting.

"As our first caller, we have Angie. Welcome, Angie, what's your question?"

"Hi, Christian! Oh, gosh I'm actually talking to you! I'm such a huge fan!" Angie yells excitedly.

Maybe a little too excitedly. I roll my eyes.

Calm down there, Angie. Don't cream your panties..

Christian chuckles. "Nice to meet you too, Angie. What do you want to talk about today?"

"Well, Christian and uh.. Abba, that's your name right?"

I roll my eyes, really?

"No, it's Ana. Last time I checked, Abba was the name of a 70s disco band," I murmur, uninterested in whatever Angie has to say at the moment.

Christian smirks.

"Oh, yeah, Ana! Got it. Anyway, Christian and Ana, I'm having a problem getting excited."

My ears perk up. What did she just say?

"Elaborate on that, Angie," Christian says, leaning on the desk with his chin in his hands. He seems to be getting more interested in the conversation.

"Well.. Nothing turns me on anymore. I used to read erotic stories, but that's not working. There's nothing I can find that really does me right-"

My mouth falls open.

"And porn doesn't work either. It's more gross than arousing. I have the urge to pleasure myself but then when I get to it, it just doesn't feel right and then I can't reach orgasm. So what do you guys think?"

My eyes are nearly popping out of my head and my jaw has hit the floor. What the actual fuck? Is this some sort of.. Perverted radio show? I thought we would talk about pop culture, or political issues... Not how to get yourself off!

"Well, Ana since you're a woman how about you help Angie with this problem?" Christian suggests.

I glare at him. Is he doing this on purpose to make me uncomfortable?

I want to think so, but it's highly unlikely. He looks completely innocent as I gaze at him. It looks like he just wants me to be involved.

I take a deep breath. I don't know what kind of semi-pornographic, perverted operation is going on here, but I'm gonna have to go with it until the show is over.

"Do you have a man in your life, Angie?" I ask, my voice wobbly.

This is so uncomfortable..

"No," She answers

"Well, maybe your body is not reacting to your own touch anymore, and it's not reacting to artificial stimulants.

"You probably just need the touch of a real man and for him to stimulate you..." I answer awkwardly.

I want the ground to swallow me up. I can't believe I actually said that in front of a real audience! What if my dad is listening to this?

I cover my eyes and put my head on the desk.

"So what exactly are you telling me to do?" She asks.

Is she fucking stupid?

"I'm telling you to stop jacking off and reading porn. Stop being a perverted hermit and go find someone to have sex with. Bye, Angie!" I snap.

I disconnect the call and groan. This is going horrible. I won't be surprised if Mr. Smalls fires me tonight.

Christian is chuckling. I peer at him, enraged that he finds this funny!

"Oh, so you're laughing at me?" I ask bitterly.

"Yeah," he admits.

I can add rude to the list of things he is.

"You called her a pervert and yelled at her, Ana. That's pretty funny."

"No, it's not! I'm probably going to get fired," I whimper.

Gosh, this turned so bad, so quickly.

"Nah, you're the first female host we've had. Leonard sees something special in you.. And I don't really blame you. Angie was a tad bit annoying," he admits, laughing again.

I smirk. Just a teensy, tiny bit.

"Ugh, why didn't anyone tell me that this was going to be a sexual talk show. If I knew this was going to be a Howard Stern spin-off, I never would've applied."

"It's implied in the title, Anastasia. It's a late night show. All freaks come out at night."

You got that right..

"But I'm guessing you're uncomfortable with your sexuality and other's?"

What? What does that have to do with anything? I'm quite comfortable with myself, actually.

"Excuse me? First, that's an improper thing to ask, and secondly what makes you think that? It's not any of your business if you ask me," I reply indignantly.

Who does he think he is?

"If you were completely comfortable with sexuality you would have no problem with hosting this show. Instead, you're embarrassed and flustered. You even criticized a woman for masturbating-which is a totally natural and healthy activity to partake in," he states.

He leans back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him.

He's waiting for my reply.

Okay, you bastard. Two can play this game.

"No, I'm not uncomfortable with sexuality. I'm just a person who believes in keeping the aspects of my life private. I'm not going to go galavanting my private life to random strangers, and I'm not going to discuss theirs either. It's a matter of taste, and I'm a classy woman. Not just anyone is going to be able to know of my sexual life."

He smirks again. Gah, why does he keep doing that?! It pisses me off, but it's hot at the same time... I groan, not these thoughts again.

"Fair point well made, Anastasia. Perhaps you're right," he acquiesces.

"It's Ana! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Well you say you're a classy woman, and Anastasia is a beautiful, high-class name. Ana, however, well... That's the kind of name you can find in a trailer park," he says innocently, but there's an undertone of sarcasm.

I gape. We are so not going to get along.

Mike bursts into the room, looking panicked. "Um, guys, you do know you're still on-air right?!" He sputters.

I pale. That completely slipped my mind.

Christian nods and waves him away, signaling he doesn't care.

"And for our next caller we have Jim. What can we do for you, Jim?" Christian asks politely, once again in professional mode.

I tune out whatever Jim is saying. His voice is nasally and ever annoying.

Our show went on for an hour and thirty minutes, and every second was exhausting. I've never had to answer such personal and sensual questions. It was awkward and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it.

How can Christian do this twenty-four seven? He must be a pervert.

After our show is over I'm exhausted and just want to go collapse in my bed. I'm not sure I want to work here. I'll have to talk to Mr. Smalls about what other options I have. Maybe I can be a sound technician like Mike. Ha, yeah right...

I ignore Christian after we're off-air. He is a self-righteous, cocky, smart- aleck jerk, at least while we're on-air. It's like he has this persona to uphold.

I burst out of the room, frustrated, tired, embarrassed, and angry.

"Ana! Ana!" Mr. Smalls calls after me.

Of course, this is the time I get fired. I butchered this whole show and I've only been on it a day.

As Mr. Smalls makes his way towards me, I was not prepared for the show of affection he graces me with. He embraces me in a sweat-filled hug, pulling back to kiss me on both cheeks.

Whoa, what's gotten into him?

"Ana! The shows ratings have increased by 13% and our audience has grown by 35%! I don't know what it is, but people can't seem to get enough of yours and Christians chemistry. The show must go on with the both of you."

The audience liked me and Christian together? We were arguing and insulting each other the whole time. How can that possibly be?

Then I think about reality tv and I know the answer immediately. People like conflict, which is exactly what me and Christian have.

I'm glad the show is doing great, but more time with Christian?

I roll my eyes. Just great.

If you're a radio-host, I apologize profusely for butchering your line of work. I have no idea how things like this work, so I'm hoping you guys can forgive me if there's any technical mistakes. So, this is a new story idea-yay or nay?

Comment any ideas that Christian and Ana could talk about on the show. What are your thoughts on Ana? On Christian?

Review xX