Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 5

"Nice to see you again," Christian nods once. His hands remaining behind his back. You make a note of this: he doesn't like to show any form of intimacy in public.

You gulp and mirror his nod. "Hello...again."

"I was just telling Christian what a great job you did on the piece of his room." Kimberly (EIC) turns to Christian. "Thank you again for bringing Vanity Fair into your home. It was very gracious of you."

"The pleasure was all mine," he says, keeping his gaze on you as your eyes were on Kimberly. In your periphery vision, you notice a slight smirk on his lips. A sneaky smile you can't ignore, but try to with all effort. It's no use, your skin begins to prickle with heat; his gaze makes you cold; his lips make you warm. And wet.

You clear your throat and try a smile. You look down. "Yes, you're kind." Then back up at Kimberly. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes," she nods. "Christian here is shopping for someone to do a profile on him. He's known for this reclusive, hermit reputation—" she laughs as high-pitched as wind-chimes, Christian chuckles lowly, sounding akin to a purr from a black panther— "and he wants to smudge off the excess."

"The excess?" you press.

Kimberly pauses, her eyes flickering to Christian assuming he would pick up where she left off. He didn't. He only continued staring at you. "He's currently planning a merger and he wants something in the glossies that investors will appreciate. Alongside this merger, he'll be bankrolling in mere billions more. And he's offered us a generous deal." She wriggles her eyebrows.

You think the deal must be sexual. But would he really be that unprofessional?

Suddenly, the room is thick with a palpable energy. They're both waiting for you to speak. For you to get it. For you to realise that Christian—

"—asked for you," Kimberly completes your thought.

"O-o-oh," you rattle breathily, "I'm not even sure I can handle the extra workload. Why don't you asked Vicky? She's a big fan."

A big fan is an understatement. Vicky once told you that she has a poster of Christian Grey on the wall of her apartment bedroom that she pretends to French kiss. She'd do it frequently and as long as she can handle, so much so that the amount of saliva and dragging with her tongue broke into the poster. Christian Grey's lips detached from the poster paper and lodged into her mouth. She brings a whole new meaning to swallowing.

"No, no," Kimberly quickly says, her tone changing, becoming forcibly restrained, "Vicky can't do it."

Kimberly looks at you as though you were crazy. You can't blame her. By all accounts, Vicky is a freak.

"I can wait for you if you like," Christian finally suggests, the initial beat of his voice pounding through like a rockslide.

You chuckled nervously and finally look at him for the second time since entering this room. "That won't be necessary—"

"Then it's done then," Kimberly slaps her hands together. "Thank you again for coming here. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"You, too, Miss Jones," Christian says.

Kimberly blushes and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. She laughs and pushes her hair back behind her ear. "Oh don't be silly, call me Kimberly. Or better yet, Kim."

You almost scoff. Kimberly hates with a passion being called Kim. She must be really into this guy more than you thought.

"Goodbye." He turns around and leaves.

"She'll see you out," Kimberly volunteers you.

You widen your eyes at her. Incredulous with her overly gracious behaviour.

You shake your head. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Nonsense," Christian smiles, a hint of amusement colouring his voice, "I'd love to be shown out."

Whatever you do, do not crumble at his words or his gaze. Just show him out.

Walking down the hallways, you feel more naked than ever. Everyone is staring. At Christian. At you. At the both of you. You sigh, involuntarily setting yourself up for a mass interrogation. You're so not in the mood.

You and Christian wait for the elevator in silence. From time to time, from the corner of your eye, you see Christian sneaking glances your way. He rubs his bottom lip, puts his hand back in his pocket, and then balances back on the ball of his heels before bouncing back.

The elevator doors ring open. He steps inside. He blocks the closing doors with one hand and looks at you confusedly, still maintaining a smile.

"Aren't you coming in?"

You chuckle. "Oh no."

"What?" he shrugs.

"Don't think I don't know you and your reputation with elevators."

"Nothing will happen." He grins devilishly and holds out a hand. "Trust me."