100 shades of inspired…

(This is fan-fiction. Inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey. Lemme know what you think. If you want more…)

Chapter one: Olivia Green 

I am on my way to visit my mother, who lives only about an hour away, but somehow it has been two and half months since I've seen her. Until today I was working two jobs, one as an associate at a local furniture store and another as a professional interior designer at this almost brand-new company called Living Beautifully. In just two months, I went from living with my mother and her husband, to moving out with my friend Gil- well Gilgan but he prefers Gil. It's a relief to have moved closer to work because this drive to and from was more than one could enjoy on a daily basis; Although I do appreciate a good drive. The feeling of freedom and having no obligations while you become intertwined with the road and the music coming from the speakers. It's still early and somehow dawn is able to convince me that all these changes are mine to keep. It's just that things have been happening so fast that I don't even think I have truly taken it all in. Gil's boyfriend is staying over while we get settled in and it would be fine if I didn't have so much hate for him. You should never tell your friends about all the awful things that go on within your relationship because you may forgive them, but your friends and family never will. With that said, I'm also using this trip to mother's house as a way of relaxing for a few days before I begin working with a new client. His name is Clarke Bloom, we haven't met but I spoke to his assistant Robert Anderson who came into my office last Tuesday. He was quite attractive in his casual suit and tie. He had a bulky build and the mannerisms of an obedient soldier. His strictly business demeanor was so intense I wondered if there was a man in there at all; he seemed programmed beyond human capabilities. Nevertheless, he was only there to make an appointment for Mr. Bloom, which most people do over the phone, but again he was very professional. Our encounter has me nervous about meeting Mr. Bloom. He's probably the type to basically decorate the whole place himself and I'll just be there for him to disagree with. Most clients like that are the older couples who are aiming for perfection since it may be the last house they decorate. Sounds insensitive, but I have seen people spend all their money on things, so that the family is left with nothing but overpriced home décor. I finally take the exit in Ormond and make my way towards State Road 40. I hear my phone ringing in my bag and assume it's my mom, but it turns out to be my assistant, Tara. 

"Hello Tara" I say loud enough for her to hear over the roar of my grandfather's old Ford ranger.

"Hello Ms. Green, I was looking over your schedule for next week and I saw that you have an appointment with The Clarke Bloom. Is that correct?" Tara urges.

The Clarke Bloom? I consider the meaning behind her words. After a moment, I answer "Uh, yes? His assistant Mr. Anderson came in while you were on your lunch break. I think he was the- your words "hunk" that you saw leaving the office Thursday." Jeez, I can feel her blush over the phone.

"Uh yes ma'am, I mean Ms. Green, I do remember. However, surely you are aware of who this man is, right?" she stammers.

Who this man is? Who could this man be? He must be Jesus himself the way she is reacting. "Um, no Tara. I don't investigate what comes up in the background checks. I don't enjoy going into their home knowing more than I should." I breathe.

She starts to gush the way a newly married woman does. "Oh my, for starters he is absolutely gorgeous. Also, he is the CEO of his own company, Gateway Creations, that was founded in Paris, France. He is only here to ensure that the expansion to Orlando goes smoothly. He's a benefactor, sponsor and quite the philanthropist. I'm so surprised you haven't heard his name at least once. Don't you watch the news?" She exclaims.

I actually don't watch the news. It's way too negative for me to sit through. I enjoy my ignorant bliss. “Well thank you for calling Tara. However, I have just reached my mother's driveway and I'd like to leave work out of this visit. If I must take a phone call, I will be available but only if I must. Be sure to push all my meetings back for the next three days. I need this time with my mother. Okay? See you soon." I hang up and tune into the road.

...

     My mom has never been much of a hugger so its expectingly awkward as we hug. She tries to help me with my bag.

"I made tacos" she says cheerfully while holding the screen door open for me.

"aha, of course you did ma. Sounds good." We walk in and her husband James is making a plate.

"Sup Olive" He chimes.

"Hey dad, how are you? I see that potbelly hasn't changed a bit." I tease.

Actually, nothing has really changed. The cabin is still too small, but the pullout couch is now a couch and not a bed. Also, mom has added a matching dark leather recliner, a lamp, and a light wood end table that matches her bedroom furniture. I take a seat in one of the uncomfortable bar stools- the kind that sorta hide in the square shape of the table- in this small kitchen and my reality begins to fade from my memory as I too play small. My mother has changed a little. She seems more relaxed, less worried and less tired. Her eyes have again found their twinkle, her hair shines with fresh highlights and she may have even gotten a little sun. Since I got this job, I've been able to slowly start taking care of my mother the way she has taken care of me. It's the most satisfying feeling I think I've ever felt or will ever feel- to show up for her like this. James finishes eating and returns to his computer game in his room. Mother and I are telling stories about the people we've met and things that have happened since I moved out.

"So how is Gil and the new place?" She pokes.

"Everything is going well I guess, I wish his boyfriend didn't feel entitled to come over all the time. I didn't think I'd be living with the both of them. You know how he is though. Damn that Gil Wagner and his charm." I roll my eyes with a smirk.

Gil was the type of guy to make a name like Gil seem sexy. He is blonde with gorgeous green eyes, not too tall, with the body of a Greek God.

"Oh Olive, you do your best to stay out of his way and just be there when he needs you to be. You know that sometimes you just have to learn things for yourself." she assures me.

I begrudgingly agree, "yeah yeah I know ma."

She smiles and asks "Is Orlando as awful as I think it is? Have you met anyone new?"

Blushing I avert my eyes, "aha, ma! I've only been there for two weeks. I have met some people from my building that seem kind of cool. I have a new client, he is supposed to be big time, but we haven’t met yet.”

She smiles proudly, “Ah, you should let me meet him. You know it only takes me three seconds."

I reply laughing "yeah I know ma."

She asks about my brother, Alexander, he lives in North Carolina with the rest of the Green side of the family. He's thirty-three and claims to have found a girl, Carrie, that he says he is ready to settle down with. She has a child, a little girl named Chelsea. He also just started his new job as a fire fighter. It has been quite a while since I've seen him, but we do talk as often as we can.

My mouth sets in a grim line "I haven't talked to him since last week when I mentioned I might be visiting for thanksgiving. He's busy."

Mom gives me a sympathetic look. 

~ 

Three days flew by while my mom and I indulged in old past times. While we were out, I found the most perfect gold necklace, it has a dressy casual charm to it. Which then inspired me to purchase a black pencil skirt and silk burgundy shirt for the meeting with Mr. Bloom. Mom and I say our goodbyes and we plan to have dinner sometime next week so I can show her the new house, the new office and introduce her to my lovely assistant Tara. I have a meeting with The Clarke Bloom that I might even be late for; however, my curls have dried perfectly, and I look rested so maybe I can get away with it. Fortunately for me, traffic is light and I make it to the firm only a few minutes late. I hope Mr. Bloom isn't as tightly wound as his overly professional assistant. Tara will not stop calling me, but I'm in the parking garage walking towards the elevator and there is a man looking at his phone.

"Wait! Hold the door!" I call out to him.

He hesitates to stop reading to look up at me, but when he does and our eyes meet and we stare blankly at each other.

"Thank you" I avert my eyes and breathe as I step into the small space.

"What floor?" he asks.

My mouth opens slightly to assist my breathing, "um, ten please." We stand there quietly in all the tension that continues to increase as the time passes. I look at him through my lashes and catch him admiring my legs. Suddenly I'm even more grateful that I've managed to have a good hair day.

"Your shoes" he says pointedly.

"Oh these? Thanks. They were a gift." I say joyfully.

He replies "No, you have dirt and grass stuck on your heel."

I look down at my shoes then at him and blushing I look away. Jeez, he is gorgeous. Suddenly, the doors open saving me from the moment. However, I still have dirt on my heels. Tara looks up in a panic I assume it's because I didn't answer her calls.

"Hello, Tara" I say as I walk over and grab a tissue to wipe my heels.

"Hello Ms. Green! and goodmorning Mr. Bloom." She exclaims with eyes wide at me and being sure to grin at him. I quickly look up from my dirty work on my shoes to see Tara is still panicking in with her eyes and look over to Mr. Bloom who is watching me intently with a sly smile on his face.

"Give me just a moment" I say to them both as a try to walk calmly to my office. "She'll be right with you Mr. Bloom." As I close the door I try to gather my thoughts as well as my composure. What the hell was that? Jeez, that man is gorgeous. Why didn't I do any research on this well known man? Okay, I can't keep him waiting. I paged Tara instructing her to let him in. Even through the fogged glass wall, I can see Tara being unable to maintain composure. So its not just me. The tall glass door swings open and as he gracefully walks into my office, he looks everywhere but me. Why won't he look at me? Why do I want him to?

"Nice paintings" he murmurs.

"Thank you, they are mine actually. I painted them." I stammer to him like I have forgotten what words feel like in my mouth.

His mouth.

He stops his slow patrol of the room for a moment- removing his phone from his coat pocket to read the screen- but then continues to look around.

He breaks the silence, "Oh? Well they are quite lovely and the place looks great. Your designs too?" he says looking over the view of Orlando.

I watch him move around my office and I begin to drift from the grounded feeling of my existence similar to the way I feel during a good drive. He's dressed very neatly in a navy suit with a crisp white button down with two top buttons undone. His skin looks as if it's been kissed by the sun; he is almost glowing. His brown nearly black hair is gently curly. I want to run my fingers through it. What? Oh my, I must remain professional. He walks over to me with his eyes fixed on mine.

“Ms. Green? I asked if you designed this office too.” He kindly repeats.

“Yes” I exclaim. “Yes, sorry I am running a little behind today. Please excuse me.” I breathe.

He smiles and holds out his hand, "Hello, I am Mr. Bloom. It is nice to meet you Ms. Green."

As I shake his hand I feel a warmth of his skin and my heart jumps- I do my best to ignore my reaction, smile awkwardly and gesture him to take a seat. My hands are sweating.

"Um, so let's discuss your budget first and then we can talk styles." I say trying to steer this conversation.

He tries to hide his smile by tightening his jaw. "I would like to see your vision in its truest form- then when can talk where to cut back, Ms. Green."

I look at him impassively trying not to display my inappropriate thoughts about this man's sculpted face.

Sitting at attention I respond, "Well then, would you like to see my portfolio? Or do you already have an idea of what you want?" 

His eyes meet mine and I am utterly captivated by this man.

He assures me in a tone that does not match the subject at all, "Not necessary. I have a clear idea of what I want."

I shift in my chair, I look up at him and release my lip...