Claiming of Fifty shades

Cafe

In the winter's hazy afternoon's sunlight, I stood in front of the coffee shop that Taylor had driven me to and absently gazed at its old-fashioned décor that perhaps mildly followed the theme of voodoo or it could be the unconstrained fruits of some spontaneous kook's efforts. My mind seemed to be otherwise occupied when I stood on the threshold of the warm pavement. I wore my usual style of suit with a collared shirt, minus the tie, with the top two buttons left open. My long black warm leather overcoat fought off the rough wind and the harsh weather.

The indoor bell chimed when I entered the edifice, staving off the burst of cold air that struck against my face. The inviting warmth instantly flooded my nerves with relief. Commonly I would never be spotted in a place as scrubby as this. One of the reasons was it being fairly out of the way of GEH and Escala. And secondly, why would I visit such a place when there were plenty better cafés available out there?

My lip slightly curled in revulsion as I made out the faded grease spots on the black, brown and white checkered table cloths. I had always went out of my way to avoid low-key places so as not to remind myself of my... origins. If it were up to me, I'd never bring Miss Steele to a place such as this.

During my pre-teen years, I subconsciously opted to pick out the most expensive of necessities. I remembered Elliot going for quantity and me quality. The most pricey clothes with the exquisitely soft fabric used to trigger my fancy. As a child they helped erase the feeling of chaffed, piss smelling garbs that I had once wore and ripped dirty stuffed toys that I placated myself with by hiding them in old shoe boxes. At the age of four, I naturally didn't understand the importance of money. I only knew the language of hunger.

I remembered the feeling of always being hungry. The hunger that had somehow eternally seeped into my bones. The hunger that no familial attachment or security was able to absolve. I was accustomed to wolf down food like a starved animal even after I was adopted by the Greys. It took me years to gain control over that embarrassingly subconscious habit. I still, sometimes ate the same way if I wasn't being attentive to my habitual.

Through years of practice I had learned the art of eating elegantly and conversing smoothly. I liked it. I could say I had handled myself remarkably well, all things considered. At least I hadn't turned out to be a drug addict or a criminal—something that was highly probable.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the smell of coffee beans, freshly baked bread and steam and then swivelled my head around inconspicuously, trying to pinpoint the object of my reluctant fascination. Another of my employee had priorly confirmed that she was already present here... in the company of a man nevertheless. I tried to count till ten to resolve my uncomfortableness and extend the level of my etiquettes which expectantly proved to be unhelpful.

A few careful glances in the vicinity and I spotted Miss Steele's sweet—devastating—face drawn into sadness depicting frown. Her alluring form adorned a light blue tightly fitted jeans, V neck grayish sweater that clung to her womanly curves, her neckline dipped classically low, enough to hint at her cleavage and a black and gray patterned jacket finished the ensemble. A distinctly good-looking man with a large set physique, as much as I loathed to admit, was sitting right across her. His expressions were adoring and beseeching all at the same time as he looked at her with a face that adorned thin framed spectacles. They were discussing something in low hushed tones. I casually walked towards the reserved table which wasn't exactly right next to them but almost close. That eventually turned out to be useful.

He was drinking her in with his eyes. Narrowing my stare, I picked on a peculiar happening. I noticed there was something different about her. Something new. A detrimental thought occurred to me, a thought that left me feeling lost. I had only seen her looking at me with caution and anger. Never... like this. Not even close.