Date: August 27 2011 18:53 MST

To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey

I need your sartorial advice.

Yours

Mrs. G x

Now, this I have to see. I type a quick response.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Peachy

Date: August 27 2011 18:55 MST

To: Anastasia Grey

Mrs. Grey

I seriously doubt it.

But I will come and give your butt a thorough examination just to make sure.

Yours in anticipation

Mr. G x

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings and Butt Inspectorate, Inc.

I abandon my beer, bound up two sets of stairs, and open our bedroom door.

Wow.

Anastasia Grey. Wow.

Paralyzed, I stand on the threshold. Ana’s in front of the full-length mirror. She’s dressed—in a sense—in a tiny silver dress, and towering stilettos. Her hair is a glossy veil edging her beautiful face. Kohl frames her eyes, and dark red lipstick paints her mouth.

She looks sensational; my body comes alive in response.

She flicks her hair to the side. “Well?” she whispers.

“Ana, you look… Wow.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I guess so.” My voice is husky, betraying my desire. I want to mess up her hair and smudge her lipstick. I want her to be my Ana, not this version of her. This powerful, seductive woman is, frankly, a little intimidating.

And hot.

Ball-tighteningly hot.

I enter the room, bewitched by my wife, and close the door behind me, glad that I put my jacket back on. She has endless, shapely legs. A vision of her feet in those shoes, hooked over my shoulders, comes to the forefront of my mind.

Fuck.

Placing my hands on her naked shoulders, I turn her around so we’re both facing the mirror.

Christ!

This dress hardly has a back.

At least it covers her backside. Just.

Our eyes meet in the glass, smoky blue to darkening gray.

She looks every inch the goddess I know. And tall. Really tall!

I glance down at her naked back, and I cannot resist her. I glide a knuckle down her spine and she slowly arches her back into my touch.

Oh, Ana.

I stop where the dress starts at the small of her back. “This is very revealing,” I whisper. My hand skates lower, over her pert behind, which is provocatively accentuated in the tight clinging material, to the hem. My fingers hover over her skin at her thigh. Gently, I caress her, teasing her flesh as my fingers move around her thigh, her eyes following their path. She inhales sharply, her mouth forming a perfectly fuckable o.

“It’s not far from here.” I run my fingers around the hem, then higher up her thigh. “To here.” I touch her panties and stroke her through the thin material. She gasps as I ease my fingers against her, feeling the fabric dampen beneath my touch.

Oh, baby.

“And your point is?” Her voice is hoarse.

“My point is…it’s not far from here”—I glide my fingers over her panties to the edge and slip my index finger around the fabric so we’re skin on skin—“to here. And then…to here.” As we gaze at each other, I slide my finger inside her.

She’s warm and wet around me, and she closes her eyes as she groans.

“This is mine.” I drip the words into her ear and, closing my eyes, slowly move my finger in and out of her. “I don’t want anyone else to see this.”

She starts to pant, and I open my eyes to watch as I pleasure her. “So be a good girl and don’t bend down, and you should be fine.”

“You approve?” she breathes.

“No, but I’m not going to stop you from wearing it. You look stunning, Anastasia.”

Enough.

I want to fuck her. But we don’t have time. And as much as I want to smudge her makeup, I’m sure she won’t appreciate it. Slowly, I withdraw my hand, and move so I’m in front of her. Gently I trace her bottom lip with the slick tip of my index finger. She puckers her scarlet lips to kiss it.

The contact echoes in my groin.

I grin. A wicked grin.

This is what I love about my girl.

She does not back down from a challenge.

I slip my finger in my mouth.

She tastes mighty fine. I lick my lips and Ana flushes.

Yes. There she is. My girl.

Grinning, I take her hand. “Come.”

Hand in hand, we head downstairs to join our guests, and I’m not immune to the admiring looks they all give my wife.

“Ana! You look like a million dollars,” Mia gushes, giving her a hug.

I release Ana and open the closet door. “Whose coat is this?” I ask, holding up a trench coat.

“Mine,” Mia says.

“Were you going to wear it?”

“Not tonight.”

“Good. Can I borrow it?”

“It’ll be a bit small for you,” Mia quips.

Ignoring her, I hold up the coat for Ana. She rolls her eyes, but acquiesces and lets me slip it on her.

Good.

She might be cold later.

And no one will see her ass.

The food at Montagna is excellent, as is—to my surprise—the conversation. It must be the company. I’ve discovered that I love watching my wife interact with people; she’s charming, funny, and smart. Well, I knew that before I married her, but today her shyness is in check and she’s making it look easy. I wonder if it’s the amount of alcohol she’s consumed that’s making her more gregarious, but right now I don’t care. I could watch her all day. She is bewitching and she offers me hope for our future together. We could do this more often: bring friends here, entertain them, enjoy time with them. I never thought that would be my thing, but maybe it is.