50 Shades of Styles

Chapter 18

Everything in it is entirely imaginary and intended only for entertainment; I created it for fun. I did not write 50 Shades of Grey or any of its characters, and I do not own them.

This chapter is dedicated to @venecian_mask14, @ladytrig and @inlovewithlouisbum. Thank you for your votes and kind comments. 

Chapter 18

Dr. Greene is tall, blond, and immaculate, dressed in a royal blue suit. I'm reminded of the women who work in Harry's office. She's like an identikit model – another Stepford blonde. Her long hair is swept up in an elegant chignon. She must be in her early forties.

"Mr. Styles." She shakes Harry's outstretched hand.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice," Harry says.

"Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Styles. Mr. Tomlinson." She smiles, her eyes cool and assessing.

We shake hands, and I know she's one of those women who doesn't tolerate fools gladly. Like Zayn. I like her immediately. She gives Harry a pointed stare, and after an awkward beat, he takes his cue.

"I'll be downstairs," he mutters, and he leaves what will be my bedroom.

"Well, Mr. Tomlinson. Mr. Styles is paying me a small fortune to attend to you. What can I do for you?"

After a thorough examination and lengthy discussion, Dr. Greene and I decide on the mini pill. She writes me a pre-paid prescription and instructs me to pick them up tomorrow. I love her no-nonsense attitude – she has lectured me until she's as blue as her dress about taking it at the same time every day. And I can tell she's burning with curiosity about my so-called relationship with Mr. Styles. I don't give her any details. Somehow, I don't think she'd look so calm and collected if she'd seen his Red Room of Pain. I flush as we pass its closed door and head back downstairs to the art gallery that is Harry 's living room.

Harry is reading, seated on his couch. A breathtaking aria is playing on the music system, swirling round him, cocooning him, filling the room with a sweet, soulful song.

For a moment, he looks serene. He turns and glances at us when we enter and smiles warmly at me.

"Are you done?" he asks as if he's genuinely interested. He points the remote at a sleek white box beneath the fireplace that houses his iPod, and the exquisite melody fades but continues in the background. Standing, he strolls towards us.

"Yes, Mr. Styles. Look after him; he's a beautiful, bright young man."

Harry is taken aback – as am I. What an inappropriate thing for a doctor to say. Is she giving him some kind of not so subtle warning? Harry recovers himself.

"I fully intend to," he mutters, bemused.

Gazing at him, I shrug, embarrassed.

"I'll send you my bill," she says crisply as she shakes his hand.

"Good day, and good luck to you, Lou." She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she does when we shake hands.

Taylor appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the elevator. How does he do that? Where does he lurk?

"How was that?" Harry asks.

"Fine, thank you. She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks."

Harry's mouth drops open in shock, and I cannot keep a straight face any longer and grin at him like an idiot.

"Gotcha!"

He narrows his eyes, and I immediately stop laughing. In fact, he looks rather forbidding. Oh shit. My subconscious quails in the corner as all the blood drains from my face, and I imagine him putting me across his knee again.