50 Shades of Shepherd

except with characters from Grey's Anatomy. A

mbly before her. I wish I'd borrowed one of Lexie's formal blazers. I have tried and worn my one and only pantsuit, my black heels, and a brown jacket=. For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped locks of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn't scare me. "Please sign in here, Ms. Grey. You'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the 20th floor." She smiles kindly at me, amused as I sign in. She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR firmly stamped on the front. I can't help my smirk. Surely it's obvious that I'm just visiting. I don't fit in here at all. Nothing changes, I within sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past the 2 security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits. The elevator rushes me with vital velocity to the 20th floor. The doors slide open and I'm in another large lobby, again all glass, steel, and white brown. I'm confronted by another desk of brown and another young blonde woman dressed cleanly in black and white who rises to greet me. "Ms. Grey, could you wait here, please?" She points to a seated area of white leather chairs. Behind the leather chairs are a roomy glass-walled meeting room with an equally roomy black wood table and at least 20 matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It's a stunning view and I'm briefly paralyzed by the view. Wow. I sit down, fish the questions from my bag, and go through them, cursing Lexie for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I'm about to interview. He could be 90 or he could be 30. The uncertainty is galling and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I've never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the silence of a group discussion where I can sit secretly in the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my company, reading a classic novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting, twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice. I roll my eyes. Get a grip, Grey. Judging from the building, which is too sedative and modern, I guess Shepherd is in his 40s: Fit, tan, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel. Another elegant impeccably dressed blonde comes out of an enormous door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It's like Standford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up. "Ms. Grey?" the latest blonde asks. "Yes, " I croak and clear my throat. "Yes." There, that sounded more confident. "Mr. Shepherd will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?" "Oh, please." I struggle out of the jacket. "Have they offered you any refreshments?" "Um... no." Oh dear, is blonde number one in trouble? Blonde number two frowns and eyes the youth woman at the desk. "Would you like tea, coffee or water?" she asks, turning her attention back to me. "A glass of water. Thank you, " I murmur. "Isabel, please bring Ms. Grey a glass of water." Her voice is stern. Isabel scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer. "My apologies, Ms. Grey, Isabel is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Shepherd will be another five minutes." Isabel returns with a glass of iced water. "Here you go, Ms. Grey." "Thank you." Blonde number 2 marches over to the enormous desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work. Perhaps Mr. Shepherd insists on all his employees being blonde. I'm wondering idly if that is legal when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive African American man with short dreads exits. I hav