Paging Dr. Steele

Chapter 8: The Showdown

This is my story--a fanfic I started in 2013. The first draft can be found on Fanfiction. However, my current updates can be found at https://butterflysaga.wordpress.com/journey-of-miles/paging-dr-steele/ which is my personal website. I keep finding my story added to Wattpad by other writers and have decided that maybe, if I add it myself, they will stop doing it, so here goes... 

I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don't like this story or me, please don't spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues...

Chapter 08—The Showdown

STEELE

Mother fucking snow bitches and goat fuckers from hell! This son-of-a-bitch is staring at me again! What the hell is he playing at? Does he plan on staring at me for the next ten damn sessions? I have let the inmates take over the asylum—the floor is open. They can do and say whatever tickles their fancy. However, that doesn't include sitting there staring at me.

After about thirty-five minutes of this, I turn to make direct eye-contact with him. I'm not staring at him to make him stop staring at me—that's a fight that I know I won't win. I'm really trying to get into his head a bit. He has this little smirk on his face and a small part of me is dying to know what he's thinking while another part of me is afraid that, in his head, I'm sitting here naked. That would be a tragedy on so many levels.

"Well, I think we should hear something from Mr. Grey," a voice to the left of me purrs. I don't even turn to see who it is. I'm assuming she's one of his many fans and only suggested it because she saw us staring at each other. Another fan to my right chimes in, "Yes, yes, Mr. Grey. We haven't heard anything from you since you've been here. We'd love to hear more about you," she coos. I look over at her with half a smile, mentally asking her Good God, woman, can you be any more obvious? I actually write in my notes that two other participants attempt to engage Mr. Grey in a conversation in class. Imagine my surprise when I hear the voice of one Mr. Christian Grey say...

"Google me."

A lone, high-pitched laugh escapes my throat before I have a chance to stop it. I hold my head down, cover my mouth, and keep writing.

"Something you find amusing, Ms. Steele?" Holy cow, he spoke again, and directly to me this time. Wonder of wonders. What do I tell him—that he's so damn arrogant it's laughable? Nope, that won't go over too well.

"No, Mr. Grey," I say flatly. "As a matter of fact, I find the situation very uncomfortable. But then again, you already knew that." I add sarcastically. The smirk on his lips transforms into a flat line. I. Have. Had. Enough. Of. This. Shit. I look at my watch. 4:42pm.

"Break until 5:00. Mr. Grey, may I see you in the hall, please?" I stand up, turn on my heels, and walk out the door without waiting for a response. I look at Mr. MIB.

"Tell your boss he's got five minutes to meet me in the stairwell or he's going to regret he ever met me at all!" I march to the stairwell and wait. I am fucking livid. Threatening him was probably not the best way to get him to come out here, but I meant every word that I said.

GREY

She did not just summarily order me to come and talk to her, and then have the nerve to send Taylor in here to retrieve me like I'm being summoned to the principal's office. I have a good mind to leave her standing right there in the damn stairwell, which I do for approximately four minutes. Then my curiosity gets the better of me. I follow Taylor to the stairwell where I find a very agitated Anastasia Steele.