The electronic beeping of my alarm pulled me out of the land of dreams. I banged the snooze button, took just a second to soak up the warmth of my comfy bed, then I sat up and turned off the alarm. I shambled like a zombie to the bathroom; I can barely function in the mornings without at least one cup of coffee. Once I'd done my business and combed my hair, I went to the kitchenette of my tiny one-room apartment and got the coffee maker going. I was dressed in my job's uniform by the time the pot was full. I poured my first cup into my favorite mug along with a couple ice cubes. I like my coffee black as sin but lukewarm. I waited until the cubes had fully melted and then took that first sip. Ah, perfection.

I read the news off my phone, keeping up-to-date with what was going on in local and global news. Some of my clients were chatty and current events were a nice, neutral topic I could talk about while doing my job.

I'm Ana Steele, by the way. I just turned 22, and I'm a resident of Seattle. I'm a masseuse by trade, working in an independent massage parlor dubbed 'Kneading Knots'. Not to toot my own horn, but most clients ask for me by name. Apparently I'm pretty good at what I do. Of course, even with generous tips and what I earn per hour, I still barely break even with rent, groceries, utilities and other expenses. Still, it's a life. I have a job, I have a place to sleep, and that's enough for me. Throw in a good book to read at night and I'm golden.

I had my usual four cups of coffee (yes, I have a problem. I'm well aware of it, and I'll deal with it in my own time, thank you very much!) and a muffin for breakfast before grabbing my keys and umbrella and leaving for work. Wanda, my beloved 70's-era Volkswagen Beetle, puttered the route from my apartment building to the parking lot of Kneading Knots. I walked in the front door, waved at the front counter girl Maria, and went to my usual room. Checking that nothing had magically gotten lost or stolen, I settled in and waited for my 8:00 am appointment.

And thus began my 12-hour shift. I'd smile, introduce myself to the client, give them a moment of privacy to disrobe however much they felt comfortable doing, and then get to work reducing them to a boneless pile of goo within the 60, 90, or 120 minute session allotted to them. Some liked to talk, some preferred complete silence, just listening to the soundtrack of zen music that played in each room. I was trained in aromatherapy, so that was offered for an extra charge. My mistifier got loaded with the preferred essential oils and then filled the room with a heady perfume of nature.

After my last client left at 8:00 pm, I logged my hours and left after waving goodbye to my colleagues. Wanda took me back to my apartment building, where I nuked a frozen dinner in the microwave, starving since I didn't get a lunch break. Well, technically I was offered one, but I needed the extra money so I filled it with another appointment. I ate the meat, veggie, and starch concoction in a plastic tray before trashing it. Then it was a shower and falling asleep reading a book.

The great thing about my day? The next day, it starts all over again. I work 6 days a week, 12 hour shifts each day. I'd work on my day off too but I worried I'd burn out if I didn't get SOME relaxation time once a week. I read a couple chapters of my current novel, placed the bookmark, and then settled in for sleepy time.

The next day was identical to yesterday: alarm, bathroom, coffee, phone, breakfast, drive. I got to Kneading Knots and made sure my room and supplies were ready. I worked and worked, removing knots and tension in general from one client after another. I might be dainty, but my grip strength was something to behold.

I waved my 2:00 away with the recommendation he drink lots of water and was just cleaning up in my room when there was an authoritative knock on the door.

"Come in!" I called, putting on my friendly smile. This was a new client, I remembered, and I wanted to leave a lasting impression so hopefully they'd come back and request me.

A red-headed woman in her forties and in a pantsuit and heels that probably cost more than my entire closet walked in.

"Hello, my name is Ana, and I'll be your masseuse today," I said, holding out my hand to shake.

The woman took it with a shake firmer than some of my male clients. "Ros Bailey. You come highly recommended by my wife Gwen."

I remembered Gwen. Saturday, 9:00, lavender oils. She wasn't the most chatty of my clients but she mentioned she was married to a woman who worked for some big mergers & acquisitions company.

"Well, I hope to fulfill your expectations. Are there any particular areas you want me to concentrate on today?"

"My shoulders. I carry it all up there. It's getting to the point it hurts to move my arms at certain angles," Ros admitted.

"I see. Well, I'll do my best to help. I'm going to leave the room for five minutes. Disrobe to your comfort level and get under the sheets with your head in the hole. Did you purchase any extras for treatment?"

"I asked for aromatherapy, but I've never done it before. What would you recommend?"

"Gwen seems to like lavender. It's a gentle, calming scent. She almost falls asleep by the end of our sessions. Would you like to try that?"

"Sure."

I waited, counting the minutes on my watch. Then I knocked gently on the door to let her know I was coming in, and walked in. She was in the right position, the sheet pulled up to her neck. "Is this table heated?" Ros asked curiously.

"Yes, it is. Is it too hot? I can lower the setting."

"No, no, it's fine."

I loaded the lavender oil into the mistifier and then I gently lowered and tucked the cover sheet at her waist. She'd stripped nude, not that I cared, just meant I wouldn't have to navigate around underwear. I pumped a handful of lotion from the container on my waist like a utility belt. Then I gave an exploratory feel from her lower back up to her shoulders.

I winced when I felt how tight she was up there. "Wow, you weren't kidding. Your knots are in knots up there."

"You can thank my boss for that. Brilliant at what he does but he's as cutthroat as it comes. I'm his second-in-command and even I worry that I'll get fired if I don't live up to his standards," Ros said. Massage therapists were kind of like shrinks and bartenders, everyone wanted to moan about their problems to them. At least, that had been my observation so far after 3 years doing this job.

"Sounds stressful. In fact, I know it's stressful, I can feel it," I said, doing some light work to improve circulation before I tackled the army of tense muscles in Ros's shoulders.

The mistifier started to get to work, filling the room with a relaxing scent of lavender, just this side of too strong.

"You know, I recognize this smell. It's in Gwen's hair whenever she comes home from her appointment,"

"Well, hopefully it sticks in your hair and you'll be able to breathe it in when you have to go back to work after this," I joked. "Now, this might be uncomfortable. Try not to tense, that just makes it worse. If it reaches the level of true pain, though, just say stop and I will."

"Gwen insists you have magic fingers. Do your thing, Ana," Ros said, giving me the go ahead.

I began the deep tissue work on her poor shoulders. She gave little grunts and groans as I forced one adhesion after another to break, but she never asked me to stop. I glanced at the clock to pace myself. When 45 minutes of her session had been spent on just her shoulders, I asked her "I can keep working on your shoulders for ten minutes or we can do a quick run of your arms and legs. Which would you prefer?

"God, please, keep working on my shoulders. I haven't felt this relaxed in ages!"

I suppressed a laugh and kept going at her shoulders. My fingers hurt from the effort of dealing with her overly tense thicket of knots, but it was worth it to hear her moan in utter contentment. I laid the sheet back over her neck. "I'm going to get you a cup of water while you redress. I hope you enjoyed your session today."

"I should have listened to Gwen sooner! That was the best massage I've had in my life! You have a talent, Ana," Ros said as I went for the door.

I blushed. "Thank you, Ros." Then I left and went to fetch the customary cup of water for the end of a session. I knocked on the door, and opened it to see Ros redressed in her immaculate pantsuit and shoes that I wouldn't be surprised to find had red bottoms. "Here's your water. A lot of toxins were released over the course of the massage. Drink like you're trying to pee every hour."

Ros nodded and drank down the cup in one gulp. She tossed it in the trash can and said "Thank you, Ana. I feel like a new woman!"

"Glad I could help. You'll pay for your session at the front desk. I hope you have a nice day," I said, somewhat rehearsed but I tried to infuse it with genuine emotion.

Ros eyed my up and down and got an odd kind of smile on her face. Like she knew something I didn't. "Oh, I will. See you later, Ana." Then Ros walked off down the hall towards the front desk.

Little did I know that the trajectory of my whole life had just been changed.

The rest of my week passed like normal. Gwen on Saturday said that she hadn't seen Ros so bubbly and relaxed since the early days of their marriage. I blushed and denied I had anything to do with it. Gwen just chuckled and insisted I did. I got tipped double my usual rate from her.

On Sunday, my free day (not due to any religious reasons, that's just how my work calendar worked out) I was debating ordering take out or pizza as a treat to myself when my phone rang with an unknown number.

"Ana Steele, may I ask who's calling?" I said, picking up.

"Ana, it's Ros Bailey."

I blinked. "Um, hello Ros. How did you get my number?"

"It was in your background check. We run them for all potential employees," Ros said and I could hear that she was smirking.

"Potential employees? What are you talking about? I don't do corporate things, I'm a massage therapist."

"Exactly. I'm offering you to be the in-house massage therapist for Grey Enterprises Holdings."

I blinked. Tried to process what I'd just heard, certain it had gotten mixed up on the way to my brain. "You… want me as your company's personal massage therapist?"

"Precisely. You'd do what you do right now, you'd just be working exclusively on select members of GEH staff."

"I… I don't know what to say," I managed to stutter out.

"Say yes. I want to see you weekly, and it seemed neater to bring you to GEH rather than bringing myself to Kneading Knots," Ros said.

"Aren't I supposed to interview for this or something?" I asked, still reeling from Ros's insane offer.

"Why bother? Your background check didn't find any red flags, and you're the only one I want to be our massage therapist. Oh, and we haven't even discussed salary. How's $150k a year sound? Plus 6 weeks vacation time a year, equipment expenses, and paid sick days? Oh, and I almost forgot, a $10k signing bonus."

I seriously almost fainted then and there. A six-digit salary? 6 weeks of vacation time? And a 5-figure bonus up front? "This… Ros, are you bullshitting me?"

"I am bullshit-free. I liked you, I especially liked what you could do, and I want all my fellow strung-out overly tense coworkers to enjoy your magic touch. So, what do you say?"

"I… I say hell yes!" I managed to say.

"Excellent. There's the small matter of you signing your contract and a Non-Disclosure Agreement, and then I suppose we'll need you to come up with a list of supplies for the room we prep for you. Are you free today?"

"Yes!" I shouted, maybe a bit overexcited. Even if I'd been at work at Kneading Knots when I got this call, I would have left to go sign this contract.

"Okay!" Ros said, apparently liking my enthusiasm. "Just come to Grey House, our headquarters downtown. Tell the front desk your name and that you're there for Ros Bailey. They'll let you right up."

"Okay. I'll be right there!" I was so excited I almost forgot my car keys in my rush out the door. I pulled up GPS on my phone and followed the mechanical voice as I drove to downtown Seattle. I drove past Grey House, an imposing 20-story office building that I had the intuition was owned entirely by Grey Enterprises Holdings. Ros said she was the second-in-command, which made me wonder exactly who her boss was. Probably some middle-aged white guy, that fit the stereotype I had of corporate America.

I parked in a nearby garage and walked into Grey House. It occurred to me that I should have dressed up for this meeting. I was in a t-shirt and sweats and everyone around me was in business suits. Still, I kept my head up and went to the front desk. "Ana Steele for Ros Bailey," I said, trying to sound like I belonged here.

The blonde eyed me dubiously but checked her computer. She did a poor job of hiding her surprise that I actually had an appointment. "Take the elevator to the 20th floor," she told me. I walked past armed security guards to the bank of elevators. Jeez Louise, how seriously did these people take their safety?

I got an elevator and the door was just closing when someone threw their hand into the gap. A young man, maybe 30 give or take a year, stepped in wearing a grey suit that probably could have paid my yearly rent. He eyed me curiously. "What are you here for?" he asked with the slightly snobbish air of one used to having all his questions answered. I guessed he was a VP or some other kind of executive.

"I have an appointment with Ros Bailey," I said politely but distantly. A strange electric charge was starting to fill the elevator as it climbed towards the 20th floor.

"Really? Concerning?" the stranger asked, his eyes narrowing.

"She wants to hire me," I replied succinctly.

"Aren't you a little underdressed?" he asked, eyeing my outfit with amused disdain.

My temper sparked. "Listen, buddy, when you're lounging around the house and suddenly get a call offering you your dream job, let's see you remember to dress in business casual before you left the apartment!"

His eyebrows went up. I guess I'd managed to surprise him. Then he chuckled. "See, that won't happen to me. I already have my dream job. But I see your point."

I sighed. "Sorry. Just… nervous excited. This appointment with Ros could turn my whole life around."

"No need to apologize. So, what exactly is this dream job Ros is offering?" the stranger asked.

"She wants to hire me as GEH's in-house massage therapist. She went to the parlor I worked at and liked me so much she apparently created the position just for me," I said, as the doors opened. I stepped out into a waiting area set up between the elevators and a front desk not unlike the one 20 floors down, complete with two blondes. I was noticing a trend.

"Did she really?" the stranger mused. I took the time to properly look at his face and realized he was incredibly gorgeous. My inner goddess perked up her head, wondering if she had a target to unleash her charms on at long last. I internally beat her down. This guy was some corporate executive, I was just a masseuse who might end up working in the same building. The odds of us ending up together were astronomical.

"Yes. She's second-in-command around here so I guess she can do something like that," I shrugged.

The man tilted his head and got an amused grin. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Um, no, because we haven't introduced ourselves to each other. Why, are you famous or something?" I asked, wondering what he was getting at.

"You could say that," he chuckled, apparently finding my cluelessness funny.

"Well, don't keep me in ignorance. I'm Ana Steele. You are?"

"Christian Grey," he said with an almost boyish grin that took years off his face.

I felt the blood drain from my face. "As in 'Grey House' and 'Grey Enterprises Holdings'? That Grey?"

"That would be me," he shrugged as if he didn't carry the weight of a multinational corporation on those shoulders.

Well, he was white. I'd gotten that part right.

"Well… good for you, then. I'm just going to have that meeting with Ros now." I walked over to the desk and addressed the blondes behind it. "Ana Steele for Ros Bailey."

"Yes, I see you right here. I'll just let Ros know you're here. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?" The blonde on the right said with brisk efficiency.

"I'll take black coffee if you have it," I said.

"Olivia," the first blonde said to the second in a commanding tone. She got up and left for wherever they kept the coffee maker, I guessed. I settled into one of the chairs in the waiting area, glancing at the magazines stacked neatly on a table between me and the next chair. I looked up and realized Christian Grey, soon to be my boss's boss's boss or something like that, was still standing there.

"Um, shouldn't you be in a meeting right now or something?" I asked him.

As if on cue, the first blonde spoke up. "Mr. Grey, your 1:00 is waiting in your office."

"Cancel it, Andrea. I'd rather sit in on this meeting between Ros and our potential new employee," Christian said authoritatively. But then, he was in charge of a billion dollar company, he had the kind of power to casually cancel appointments on a whim.

I gulped. "You sure you want to do that? I'm basically just here to sign the contract and an NDA," I told him.

"Still, I find myself curious. I'll just be sitting in the corner, pretend I'm not even there," the CEO said with a playful grin. My heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was in that moment. I reminded myself that his league and my league were spheres that did not touch.

Olivia returned with my coffee, in an actual mug instead of a styrofoam cup. I took a cautious sip. Still too hot, but excellent quality. I cupped the mug in my hands, letting the warmth comfort me.

Ros herself came out into the waiting area. She blinked when she saw her boss waiting there. "Christian? I thought you had a meeting?"

"I did. Then I had the privilege of meeting our potential new massage therapist and now I'm going to sit in on your meeting," Christian explained.

Ros rolled her eyes. "Whatever you want, boss. Ana, follow me."

I got up and followed the red-head, sensing Christian walking behind me. Ros led me into what I'm pretty sure was her personal office. It had a breathtaking view of the Seattle skyline. She sat behind a black wooden desk or made of something meant to resemble wood. I took a seat in one of the two seats placed facing her desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christian Grey take a seat on the small loveseat in the corner.

"Now, Ana. As we discussed on the phone, I want to hire you as GEH's in-house massage therapist. Here's a rough draft of your employment contract, we can discuss any changes here and now," Ros said as she pulled out a contract. I set my coffee down on her desk and took the pieces of paper that spelled out the terms of my new job. It was pretty straightforward. I'd have to work a minimum of 40 hours a week, almost half of what I worked right now. In exchange, I got a fat salary, all the benefits Ros had mentioned, and the promised $10k signing bonus.

"This contract looks fine to me. I'll sign it right now," I said, looking around for a pen.

Ros chuckled and handed over a Montblanc. I signed and dated the contract, handing it back to her to write her own signature on the employer's line. "Congratulations, Ana, you're a corporate masseuse now. First order of business is your NDA, we have all employees sign one." She pulled out another stapled set of papers.

I read the NDA carefully, not wanting to forget some fine print and accidentally get fired for saying the wrong thing. I hadn't read many NDAs, but this one seemed particularly airtight. Basically, if i so much as breathed to anyone not in GEH about GEH business, I was out the door. Once I'd absorbed all the stipulations in the binding agreement, I nodded. "Okay, I'll sign."

Ros handed over the pen again, and I signed my agreement of silence. Just like that, I was hired. I blew out a breath. "So, we need to discuss how to set up my room here."

"Right. We have an empty room on the 18th floor that should work. Let's mozy on down and take a look, shall we?"

Ros led me out the door, followed by Christian Grey who for some reason seemed determined to keep me in his line of sight. We took the elevator down two floors and I must have been going crazy, because that electric charge was back and I found myself repeatedly glancing at Christian Grey, who seemed to be glancing back. Then the door opened and I let out a sigh of relief as I followed Ros out into the floor. Even on a Sunday things looked busy. Everyone all but stood at attention when they caught sight of Ros and/or Christian walking by. The bosses ignored the underlings, leading me to a door that opened into a medium-sized windowless room.

I looked around, already mentally arranging my equipment and supplies. "It's perfect. And you'll pay for all the equipment, right? That doesn't come out of my pay or anything?"

"Of course. So, what do you need? A table first, I'm guessing," Ros said with an amused smirk.

"Right, one of of the higher-end models since I get the sense most of my clients will be used to a certain standard of luxury. A lamp, because these fluorescents are too harsh. I'll need a mistifier and all the essential oils to accompany it. I can just get more lotion online. A few more odds and ends and this should be the ideal massage room." I turned to grin at Ros. "I'll order all the equipment myself and see to it it gets set up properly. I should be able to start working within the week."

"Excellent. Have it all delivered here, our people will get it up here, you just have to rearrange it. Here's the payment info for you to use," Ros pulled out a business card and wrote down a credit card number and details from memory on the back. I took it, swearing I wouldn't abuse it.

"I guess that's it for today. Looking forward to working with you, Ana," Ros said, giving her firm handshake. We'd walked back to the elevators.

"Likewise, Ros." I turned to Christian Grey, who was still shadowing us. "Nice meeting you, Mr. Grey."

"You as well, Ms. Steele," he grinned.

I got in the arriving elevator. "See you later," I waved with a bright smile.

Christian Grey seemed slightly thunderstruck. "Ana," he said just as the doors were closing.

"Christian," I said back without thinking.

O-kay, what the hell was that? Unless I was completely out of my mind, there'd been serious chemistry between me and Christian Grey. But, I reminded myself, he was so far out of my league it wasn't even funny. Odds are we'd never meet again unless he came in for a massage. The thought of seeing what was under that expensive suit made my inner goddess cackle, but I locked her away in a corner. I hardly ever let her have her way, probably why I was still a virgin at 22.

I drove home and the first thing I did was call Kneading Knots to let them know I was quitting. I explained that I'd been offered another job and everything was very short-notice. My former boss had some choice words for me and I got the sense I shouldn't use her as a reference. Next thing I did was check my bank account using my phone. Lo and behold, I was already $10k richer. Ros worked fast, it seemed.

I spent an hour ordering all the equipment online using the card information Ros had given me. Despite the fact my new boss was fitting the bill, I stuck to models I was familiar with rather than ordering the most expensive top-of-the-line examples just because. That done, I was left with nothing to do. I realized I was starving. I'd skipped lunch to have the meeting at Grey House. I ordered a large pizza, figuring I could eat the leftovers over the next couple days. As I munched on cheesy goodness, I pulled out my box set of DVDs that contained every episode of 'Friends'. I was slightly obsessed with the show; there was just something so comforting about seeing a gaggle of characters live an idealized version of life in NYC.

Around 6:00 and just as I was getting to the part halfway through season 3 where Ross and Rachel took their infamous 'break', there was a knock on the door. I paused the show and went to the door. My peephole showed a deliveryman of some sort. I opened the door. "How may I help you?" I asked.

"Delivery for Anastasia Steele?" the guy asked with a friendly grin.

"That's me," I confirmed.

He let himself in and placed a small package under his arm on the kitchen counter. He pulled out one of those little electronic signature doodads and I signed for the mysterious package. He nodded and left, closing the door behind him. I opened the package to find a bottle of champagne, along with a note.

I read the neat handwriting. "Congratulations on joining the GEH family - Christian Grey." I blinked. He'd handwritten this note. Did every employee get a bottle of champagne as part of their signing bonus? And not just any champagne, Bollinger Grand Annee Rose. I knew next to nothing about fine wine and even I knew this was an expensive little bottle.

How far into this should I read? Could be he'd felt the same electric charge I had and this was a gift to a potential girlfriend. Could be that he just did this on a whim, he had more money than God after all. Well, I didn't have enough information to come to a clear conclusion. For now, I'd just stick this bottle in the fridge until a special occasion came along.

While 'Friends' played in the background, I did some research on Christian Grey. An 11-digit net worth, and his company had gone from unnoticeable to a global powerhouse within the last 10 years. Articles in business magazines praised his style and ruthless efficiency, more gossipy rags commented on how 'hunkalicious' he was and how he'd never been seen in public with a female he wasn't related to or working with. Some speculated he was gay, but based on the brief impression I'd gotten from him, I didn't think that was the case. I think he just went to great lengths to keep his relationships with women private.

When it got late, I showered and tucked myself into bed with my book, but I couldn't focus on the words. I read the same sentence over half a dozen times before giving it up as a loss. I turned off the light and snuggled into bed, reflecting on the events of the day. Ros had a point, I'd be doing the exact same thing I'd been doing at Kneading Knots, just all my clients would be GEH employees.

I puzzled over the behavior of Christian Grey. Canceling a meeting just to watch me, that odd back and forth of names at the elevator, his gift of obscenely high quality champagne. What did he want with me exactly? Was this his way of flirting? Or did he just want me as a friend and I was misreading the signals? Or was I nothing but a random girl in the elevator that had been refreshingly different from the usual kowtowing he got from all his employees?

I shrugged and focused on falling asleep. In all likelihood, we might never meet again. Best to stop worrying about the whole thing. But I couldn't help but remember the look on his face as he'd said my name just as the elevator was closing.