Stranger at My Door

CH 18: Christian

“Why?”

Once Christy is in bed, Ana and I sit by an open fire outside drinking some decent Pouilly Fume when Ana finally asks the question I have been regretting to answer. It is time, I know it is; I cannot postpone it much longer. Her why encompasses so many questions: ‘why I cannot touch you?’ ‘Why are you fucked up?’ ‘Why you get off exerting control and pain to women, preferably little brunettes?’ I know I owe her answers but I do not want her to run. I decide to give her the most basic answer.

“I was adopted at four years old, before then, my birthmother allowed her pimp to use me as ashtray.” The beginning is always a good place to start. My voice ice cold and controlled to mask the turmoil going on within me. I look up to the stars; I want to avoid the pity look I know she has for me.

“I’ll kill him.”

“Who?”

“The man that did this to you.” Ana comes over and sits on my lap. “I’ll kill him.” She kisses my forehead. Then she moves her lips down my hair line as her hands run over my hair. Her lips gently pull my lower lip into hers; her hands still running over my hair. It is… comforting.

“I do not know who he is.” I have tried to find out over the years yet, he remains a face without a name. “It was so long ago that he is probably dead by now” – except on my nightmares where he comes alive, the same dirty-smelly-angry man with a vendetta against me.

“… Christy is able to touch your chest.” She continues.

“She and Mia are able to...” and … to a lesser extend the one that initiated me… no I won’t go there! “I think because both were babies, innocent and incapable of hurting me.”

 “I won’t hurt you.” She runs her hands around my hair, once more, in a comforting tender manner; no one has ever touched me like this. The touch I am familiar with is either harsh for punishment or purposeful for pleasure. “Is it only your chest and back?”

I grab her index finger, run it along a line forming an imaginary short vest that ends right at my lower rib. “Everything inside is out of limits front and back.”

She leans over and kisses my shoulders. “Is this OK?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She runs her nails over my under arms; even pulling playfully on some of my hair there. Mr. Happy reacts instantly. “Is this OK?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She is smiling now and tickles my stomach. “Is this OK?”

I squirm under her hands. “Yes.”

She laughs loud and clear. “You, Mr. Grey, are ticklish!”

I smile at her. “Not always.” I can take the bite of a cane easily. “It is the way you touch me. Not where you do.”

We then expend a good half an hour finding all my ticklish spots; however, my favorite is finding hers. She is ticklish on her ribs, the small of her back, her neck, and by her elbows. My mind files all those little spots for easy access; I can do plenty with this newly found information.

I want Ana to stay the night with me. However, she has to work in the morning and she decides to go back to her place instead. I sulk; I do not like it when I do not get my way. I driver her back and I have to remember Christy is sleeping at home for me not to insist on staying the night with Anastasia. I want Ms. Steele with me; her place is by my side; yet, I walk away.