Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 24

I suppose you could say I was feeling giddy on my way to work, even long after my date with Christian. Most of the morning was rolling out slowly but seamlessly and I deduced that it had something to do with the fact that most of my work consisted of writing a profile on Christian Grey.

Kimberly was totally not into my first draft. "We need more juicy details," she said, throwing the stack of papers I had sent her onto her table. "You've written so much of what we already know. We need something different; something more. This—" she shook her head— "this isn't enough."

I looked down at my profile on Christian Grey and it was riddled with red marker. The blood of war. "I don't think he'll tell me anything he wouldn't want everyone to know, off the record."

Kimberly stood and closed the door of her office. "Look," she said, sitting back down on her plush white leather chair. "Sometimes 'off the record' doesn't mean 'off the record'."

I narrowed my eyes, hating where this was going. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, not everyone can prove whether or not something was off the record. The only way that was possible is if they recorded the conversation where they said it's of the record, and I'm pretty sure that wouldn't happen, because it's illegal."

"So is what you're implying, Kimberly."

Kimberly sighed. "Look, I think I'm going to find another reporter to get on this story."

"You mean find someone else a little malleable with the law as you want them to be?" I snapped back.

Kimberly threw her head back and laughed. "It's not as detrimental as you think it is. This isn't North Korea we're reporting on, this is Christian Grey, and our readers want the juicy stuff. We've been promoting the hell out of this piece knowing full well it'll bump up our circulation to a degree that'll satisfy our publishers. So, don't worry. This will in no impact you or your state within the company."

After my meeting with Kimberly, I had gone over the same words over and over in my mind. This will in no way impact you or your state within the company. Going into the meeting I hadn't even thought of the state of my employment within the company, but Kimberly's words were laced with a sort of impending doom type of foreshadowing. Had I sealed my fate? Was I a goner? I couldn't tell. What I did know for sure is that I needed to trust my instincts, and my gut was telling me to run.

The rest of the day I used my time to look at other prospects on the market. Perhaps I was better cut out for a job in book publishing instead of magazines. I had the experience; I had the know-how, all I needed was that sweet opportune moment.

Later on in the night I was sipping on a homemade mojito mocktail (because why not, not everyone uses alcohol to unwind these days) when my phone buzzed.

'You should come to my place,' Christian texted.

I furrowed my brows and smiled at how cocky he was. 'And what makes you say that?'

'We had a date, remember? You said if we went on a date, we'd get things rolling.'

'Yeah, get things rolling, not have things rolled.'

'Sometimes I think you play hard to get to punish me.'

I giggled. 'And why would I have the need to punish you?'

'I don't know,' he wrote back, 'but I have a deep, pulsating, hard desire to punish you.'

A warmth began to spread between my legs. 'Pulsating, huh?'

'Pulsating...'

I gulped, thinking of his hard and thick penis, veins popping like a railway road map, pre-come rolling over. In all honesty, he was teasing me.

I bit my bottom lip, contemplating. 'Pick me up,' I said, before downing the rest of my mojito.

'On my way.'

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