𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘//𝐁.𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍

She pulls out of me suddenly. I wince. She sits up on the bed and throws the used condom in a wastebasket.

"Come on, we need to get dressed—that's if you want to meet my mother." She grins, leaps up off the bed, and pulls on her jeans—no underwear! I struggle to sit up as I'm still tethered.

"Anastasia— I can't move." Her grin widens, and leaning down, she undoes the tie. The woven pattern has made an indentation around my wrists. It's ... sexy. She gazes at me. She's amused, her eyes dancing with mirth. She kisses my forehead quickly and beams at me.

"Another first," She acknowledges, but I have no idea what she's talking about.

"I have no clean clothes in here." I am filled with sudden panic, and considering what I've just experienced, I'm finding the panic overwhelming. Her mother! Holy crap. I have no clean clothes, and she's practically walked in on us in flagrante delicto. "Perhaps I should stay here."

"Oh no, you don't," Anastasia threatens. "You can wear something of mine." She's slipped on a white T-shirt and runs her hand through her just-fucked hair. In spite of my anxiety, I lose my train of thought. Her beauty is derailing."Billie, you could be wearing a sack and you'd look lovely. Please don't worry. I'd like you to meet my mother. Get dressed. I'll just go and calm her down." Her mouth presses into a hard line."I will expect you in that room in five minutes, otherwise I'll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you're wearing. My t-shirts are in this drawer. My shirts are in the closet. Help yourself." She eyes me speculatively for a moment, then leaves the room. Holy shit. Anastasia's mother. This is so much more than I bargained for. Perhaps meeting her will help put a little part of the jigsaw in place. Might help me understand why Anastasia is the way she is...

Suddenly, I want to meet her. I pick up my shirt o the floor, and I'm pleased to discover that it has survived the night well with hardly any creases. I find my blue bra under the bed and dress quickly. But if there's one thing I hate, it's not wearing clean panties. I riffle through Anastasia's chest of drawers and come across her boxer briefs. After pulling on a pair of tight gray Calvin Kleins, I tug on my jeans and my Converse.

Grabbing my jacket, I dash into the bathroom and stare at my too-bright eyes, my flushed face—and my hair! Holy crap ... just fucked pigtails do not suit me, either. I hunt in the vanity unit for a brush and find a comb. It will have to do. I quickly tie back my hair while I despair at my clothes. Maybe I should take Anastasia up on her offer of clothes. My subconscious purses her lips and mouths the word "ho." I ignore her.

Struggling into my jacket, pleased that the focus cover the tell tale patterns from her tie, I take a last anxious glance at myself in the mirror. This will have to do. I make my way into the main living room.

"Here she is." Anastasia stands from where she's lounging on the couch. Her expression is warm and appreciative. The sandy-haired woman beside her turns and beams at me, a full megawatt smile. She stands, too. She's impeccably attired in a camel-colored fine knit sweater dress with matching shoes. She looks groomed, elegant, beautiful, and inside I die a little, knowing I look such a mess.

"Mother, this is Billie Eilish. Billie, this is Grace Trevelyan-Grey." Dr. Trevelyan-Grey holds her hand out to me. T ... for Trevelyan? Her initial.

"What a pleasure to meet you," she murmurs. If I'm not mistaken, there is wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice and a warm glow in her hazel eyes. I grasp her hand, and I can't help but smile, returning her warmth.

"Dr. Trevelyan-Grey," I murmur.

"Call me Grace." She grins, and Anastasia frowns. "I am usually Dr. Trevelyan, and Mrs. Grey is my mother-in-law." She winks. "So how did you two meet?" She looks questioningly at Anastasia, unable to hide her curiosity.