It was a dark and stormy night, and college graduate archaeologist Anastasia Steele lightly fingered the imperceptible edges of her hole. Perhaps it was a pit, perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps it was a post-hole, perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps it was an amorphous blob, perhaps it wasn’t.
Imploringly, she looked towards the Site Hut of Pain, where manipulative billionaire and site supervisor Christian Grey emerged. Striding masterfully across the soft brown earth, Grey jumped in her trench, landing with an audible plop. Was that a trowel in his pocket or was he just pleased to see her? Answering with a look that pierced her soul, he knelt down beside her and unsheathed an impressive six-inch tool.
Her inner goddess quivered in expectation. Holy-Hell He’s Hot!
“Site-Assistant-slash-Slave” he whispered huskily, “How dare you fail to adequately interpret this feature. Are you forgetting your non-disclosure agreement with Archaeological Research Services & Excavation (ARSE Ltd)? I’ll teach you to trowel a feature by god, if it’s the last thing I do!”
Roughly grasping her hand he wrapped it around his tool and moved it back and forth, parting the virginal earth like a veil.
“Mmmn, Yesssss. That’s it Site-Assistant-slash-Slave” he whispered, adding huskily “I think you’ve found wood….”
…and on reflection, that’s where it all went wrong. Feeling the girth, suppressing the mirth, her inner goddess shriveled up and died inside.
“Give me Anais Nin. Give me Jilly Cooper. But for Flying-Furry-Handcuffs Sake, stop force-feeding me this filth!’
Scowling, her inner goddess marched off in disgust. To the pub most probably.
Tune in next week for… Post-ex! What goes on site certainly doesn’t stay on site, as manipulative billionaire and site supervisor Christian Grey’s wood gets subjected to specialist analysis.
