Turning Point Club Box Set

by JA Huss

  She lowers her head.

  I look at Jordan to see if he’ll say anything about this, but he doesn’t. He’s too busy unbuckling his belt. A second later he’s got his cock out. Fists it, then pumps it. It’s hard and thick in his hand.

  “She’s going to suck your dick,” Jordan says to me.

  “Is she?” I laugh.

  He nods. “And I’m gonna help her.”

  I raise my eyebrows at that, then shake my head so Nadia won’t know I’m rejecting the offer.

  Jordan smiles and nods back a, Yes, I am. “Watch me,” he says, walking over to Nadia. He grabs her hair and says, “Keep your eyes closed, Nadia. And crawl forward a little.”

  She crawls. Jordan guides her by the hair and then yanks on it to signal stop. She’s right in front of me. Jordan reaches down, takes one of her hands from behind her back, and places it over my cock. When his eyes meet mine again, he has a look on his face that says, See.

  “Take out Bric’s cock, Nadia.”

  She uses the one hand—and only the one hand—to pull my pajama pants down and take me out. I’m half hard already just from the little show Jordan is putting on. But it only takes a few pumps of her warm palm to get me all the way there.

  “That’s nice,” Jordan says. “Now put it behind your back again.”

  She obeys just as Jordan scoots closer, so he’s standing directly behind her. His cock is hard too, and he presses it to the back of her head as he places his palms against her temples.

  He pushes her face towards me and says, “Open your mouth, Nadia. Wider.” He chuckles. “Bric is bigger than that.”

  I look down—watching—as she opens wide and Jordan guides her head until the tip of my cock passes between her lips and rests on her warm tongue. “Lick him, Nadia,” Jordan says.

  Her tongue begins to twirl around the tip of my head. She licks, then drags her tongue all the way down my shaft. I realize that Jordan is the one controlling her. She obeys the pressure he places on her temples. He guides her back up and then pushes her forward until she’s got my cock in her mouth again.

  I look up at Jordan and he smiles.

  I manage a crooked grin. It’s hot, I decide. And not something we’ve ever done before. But I redirect my attention back to Nadia, because Jordan is urging her to take more of me in her mouth. He pushes on her head, forcing my cock down into her throat. I feel her contract around me—almost gagging but not quite.

  And that must not be enough for Jordan, because he makes her take more.

  She is choking when he finally pulls her head back. Drool falls out of her mouth, slides down her chin, and drips onto her dress.

  Jordan moves his hand downward, noticing my gaze, and yanks the dress down until one tit comes free. It hangs out, perky and plump from the surrounding fabric. He plays with her nipple as his other hand guides her back to my waiting cock.

  He helps her blow me. In his own way.

  And I enjoy it… a lot. I close my eyes, wanting very badly to lie back, but I’m standing up and so I can’t completely let go.

  My hands join Jordan’s on her head. He gives me space. Then, once I’ve got a rhythm going and I’m pumping her head good and fast as I fuck her throat, he places his hand on top of mine.

  I don’t bother looking at him. If he wants to make it more personal… fuck it. It feels good.

  Nadia is making the most delicious noises as I pump my cock in her mouth. Gagging and whimpering. So very, very different than the way she was last night.

  When I close my eyes and start moaning too, Jordan reaches under my balls and grips them tight as I spew my release in long, contracting waves of pleasure.

  She swallows. Twice. “Fuck,” I whisper, once I’m finished. I needed that.

  I open my eyes and see Jordan groaning as he fists his cock now. He grabs Nadia by the hair, spins her around, and shoots his climax on the front of her dress.

  “Yes,” he says, still pumping his cock. “Yes.”

  He takes a long breath before looking at me. Smiles. “OK, decision time, Bric. Do you wanna play a game with me?”

  I look down at Nadia, who still has her hands behind her back and her eyes closed.

  “She wants it,” Jordan says. “If you reach between her legs right now, you’ll find a warm pool of gimme more in there.”

  I grin. Chuckle. Then give in. “Why the fuck not?” I say back. “But only for tonight.”

  “Sure,” Jordan says. “We can make it a one-time thing. Nadia won’t care, will you, baby?”

  She keeps her eyes closed as she shakes her head. “No, sir. I’m here to do whatever you want.”

  That sweet, slightly deep voice has my full attention again.

  Maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe she’ll make a good player.

  At the very least, she’s a good start.

  Chapter Four - Nadia

  One night, Jordan said. Just one night. I keep repeating the mantra over and over in my head as I concentrate on keeping my eyes closed.

  They walk away to get their drinks again, leaving me in the center of the room on my knees. I still have my stupid cape on and I’m beginning to sweat from the extra layer.

  Why am I doing this?

  Luck. I remind myself.

  But it’s more than that and it takes more resolve not to smile right now than it did to let Jordan control me.

  These asshole men think they’re so in control. So assertive, and aggressive, and appealing. And they think I am weak. So willing, and compliant, and obedient.

  We’ll see.

  They talk for a while after that. They settle on Bric’s couch. I can see them as I peek through my half-closed eyes, their legs open or propped up on one knee. They drink their stupid drinks and ignore me, still here in the middle of the floor, come drying on my dress.

  Some time later Jordan orders me to lie back and open my legs. I just keep my eyes shut and try to relax. Forget where I am, what they’re doing, and concentrate on the dance going on in my head. I choreograph an entire routine as they play at being men with power.

  Still, there’s the nagging doubt in my head.

  Do I really want to get involved like this again? I moved away. I’m making a new life for myself. I’m going places.

  “So what kind of pay does she get?” Bric asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  Are they talking about me? I wasn’t listening.

  “Who says she needs to get paid?” Jordan replies.

  “They always get paid. You know this. It’s in the contract. We all have to get something out of it—”

  “No,” Jordan says, cutting him off. “She’s here because she likes this.” Ah, they are discussing the details of some kind of contract with me. “Aren’t you, Nadia?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say out loud. But that’s not what I say in my head.

  “Why are you smiling, Nadia?” Jordan asks.

  “Because I’m a dirty whore and this is payment enough,” I reply in my demure submissive voice that I’ve curated over the past few weeks.

  “See?” Jordan says.

  “Well, fuck that,” Bric says. “I’m only playing if she gets paid. I like to keep it all professional.”

  “Whatever,” Jordan says. “So pay her.”

  “You’ll pay her too. You know how this works. Nadia,” Bric calls. “What do you need from us to play?”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Nadia,” he barks. It’s a loud bark. Loud enough to echo off the ceiling. “I’m not interested in your opinion on the payment. I’m interested in how much you think you’re worth.”

  How much do I think I’m worth? Is he fucking serious?

  “Answer him, Nadia,” Jordan says.

  “I’m worth more than you can afford,” I say, biting back my anger.

  They both laugh, like this is funny.

  “We’re very rich, Nadia,” Bric says in some calm, professional voice I haven’t heard from him before. “Trust me when I say we can
afford you. Now tell us how much you think you’re worth.”

  How do you put a price on yourself?

  “I’m worth something dear to you,” I say. I’m still on my back, eyes closed, legs open. “So why don’t you tell me what’s dear to you and then I’ll tell you that’s what I want.”

  I can practically feel the eyebrows rising up on their stupid caveman foreheads.

  They laugh. For a good long time, too. They sip their drinks and chuckle some more.

  “Or not,” I say, opening my eyes, closing my legs, pointing my toes, and sitting up. I smile at them. “I can walk out, I guess.”

  “Nadia, shut the fuck up and lie back down,” Jordan says.

  But you know what? I don’t feel like shutting the fuck up and lying back down. I still want to win this game, which means I have to play. So I’m not going to be dramatic about this. But I want them to, at the very least, take me seriously.

  “No,” I tell Jordan, getting to my feet. “Your friend is right. We need a contract. And until we have one, I’m going home. I’m going to soak my aching feet, stretch my aching legs, and then give myself the orgasm the two of you were incapable of delivering. And tomorrow, I’m going to do some research. I’m going to figure out what it is you don’t want to lose, and then I’m going to ask for that as payment.”

  They stare at me, open-mouthed. Silent. Maybe stunned. Maybe pissed off. I don’t care. I straighten my dress, ignore the dried come down the front, and walk out the door.

  I walk home and I don’t even mind that my toes are bleeding in these stupid high heels. I’m used to it. I can take it. I hold my head high, do not limp like a lame horse with a missing shoe, and do what I do best. Manage.

  When I get home, I fill the tub with hot water, add in some bubbles, then take off the disgusting dress and throw it in the trash.

  My phone buzzes in the bedroom where I left it, just as I’m pulling the Band-Aids off my toes, but I ignore it. I step into the hot water. I hiss out the sting of pain when the half-healed blisters on my feet hit the heat. And then I sink under and let the world slip away.

  I let that phone buzz a voicemail notification over and over on the nightstand until the water cools and I get out. I dry off and go to my workout room. It’s a ballet room because this is a company apartment. I wonder if the principals have an apartment like this too? No, they will have something much nicer. Not that this place is shabby. It isn’t. It’s professionally decorated and has lots of high-end finishes like soapstone countertops and amazing hardwood floors. But come on. I might be somebody to a junior dancer like Chris, but to the stars of the Mountain Ballet I’m no one.

  I stand naked in front of the mirrors in the ballet room. They run the entire length of one wall.

  My body is typical ballerina. My breasts are not small, but they are not large either. Ample might be a bit too strong a word to describe them, but they are close. My legs are long. Like a baby racehorse’s. My face is sweet and pretty, my arms are willowy and graceful, and I am nothing but well-honed muscle. You don’t get far in this art if you don’t have the body for it. It’s genetic. Something you have or don’t. Not something you can shape yourself into with diet and exercise.

  I shift my feet and arms into fifth position, gather myself from my core, and go up on my toes. The hot water has soothed them, but they still hurt, even though I’m not actually on the tips.

  I am used to hurting.

  I hold my position, then begin to dance. I transition into different steps leftover from old performances to feel normal again.

  It’s holiday week at the school. And the company is off after a grueling Nutcracker schedule. I am bored there. The little girls are not enough to fill my desire for work. But after the New Year things will be back to normal. My days will be filled with dance, and pain, and mental stress.

  All the things that get me through.

  But for now, I’ll play with Jordan. It’s only a week. This stupid game they think they’re playing will only last one more week, I’ve decided. They will keep me busy during holiday week, I will get what I need, and I will win this game and leave them both behind.

  My phone buzzes again in the bedroom. Another notification. Another voicemail.

  I stop dancing and breathe hard, hands on hips, bending over as I crunch my feet and stretch them out.

  When I’m done I walk into the bedroom and check my voicemail.

  I smile into the phone as I listen.

  Fucking men.

  They are so predictable.

  Chapter Five - Bric

  “It’s like life, Nadia. What you get out of it is directly impacted by what you put into it.”

  Jordan was pissed when she walked out. Left a very threatening voicemail on her phone after fuming around my apartment for thirty minutes. Which, if we want to play a game—and I’m not sure I’m on board yet, but I like to keep my options open—wasn’t going to cut it.

  So I made a call and left a voicemail as well.

  “Did you call Jordan back?” I ask while she thinks about what I just said.

  “No,” she says.

  Interesting. He’s the one who found her, yet she called me and not him.

  “Look,” she says, sighing into her phone. “Obviously, I’m getting something out of this… arrangement I have with Jordan. I’m just not sure I need to play two games at once.”

  This isn’t the first time she’s used the term “game” while we’ve been talking. And even though it is a game, it strikes me as unusual for her to be calling it that. So easily.

  “It’s just one game, darling,” I tell her back. “We’re all playing the same game.”

  “But a game with two men is not quite the same as a game with one.”

  I’m silently frustrated. But she’s a good enough distraction.

  Jordan even used that term earlier. She’s a good replacement for… them. Them, meaning Rochelle and Quin. And… Adley.

  “What do you want out of this?” I ask her, pushing away my depressing recent past. “Surely there’s something? Everyone has that little something that seems unattainable. Let us give it to you.”

  “In exchange for submission?”

  “I get it. Jordan told me a couple weeks ago. You’re not naturally submissive. You think you’re dominant.” I try to hold in my chuckle, but I don’t entirely succeed.

  “Is that funny, Mr. Bricman?”

  “A little bit, Nadia. Yes, it is. You’re what? Twenty years old? What do you know about being a top?”

  “Twenty-three,” she corrects me. “And I know enough to understand I like it.”

  “You like control, then? Not really controlling people?” I can almost feel her shrug. Like there is no difference. But there’s a big difference. “It’s not the same thing, Nadia. Do you fantasize about tying me up to a bed and having your way with me?”

  “Yes,” she says. “I’m imagining it right now. Putting a hood over your head, chaining you up like you did me last night. Making you wonder what’s coming next. Beatings, or slaps, or sucking your cock.”

  I do not hold in the laugh this time. Not at all. “Well, that’s never going to happen.”

  “So you say,” she retorts.

  “OK, am I wasting my time here? Just say so. I’ll hang up and never bother you again.”

  “I already told you what I wanted, Mr. Bricman.”

  “Something dear.” I sigh. “What’s that even mean?”

  “I haven’t done my research yet, so I’m not sure. But I’ll know. Eventually. And once I do, that’s my price.”

  “Maybe you’re really not worth it.”

  “Then hang up.”

  We’re silent for a few moments, both of us wondering what we should do. She’s not hanging up, that’s for sure. She’s getting something out of this conversation, I realize. Dominance over me. Not in the way one usually thinks of when you use the word dominance. But she definitely likes the control. She likes making me defensive.
/>   “How about a date?” I ask.

  “No,” she says. “I don’t have time for dates.”

  “Well, then let’s just stop this now. What we do with the players—Jordan and I—is definitely dating.”

  “I’m not a loyal partner, Elias,” she says. Her choice to use my first name has the effect she was going for. It sets me back a second.

  “Perfect. You have two of us to choose from.”

  “I mean,” she says, stressing her words, “I won’t be faithful to you so dating is out of the question.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. “What?”

  “I’m playing several games right now, Mr. Bricman. Yours is not the only one. So I won’t be giving those up.”

  “Sexual games?” I ask, thoroughly intrigued at this point.

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re new in town.”

  “So? I have connections. When I got this offer to dance at Mountain Ballet I called them up and set up a few… interactions.”

  “So you are a whore?”

  “If by that you mean I like to have a lot of sex, then yes. I’m a dirty fucking whore.”

  Hmmm.

  “Does that bother you?” she asks. Her filthy words from her sweet mouth are killing me right now.

  “No,” I say. “It actually turns me on.”

  “What?” she asks.

  Do I read confusion? Is this bitch playing me?

  “How do you manage the health check Jordan requires?” I ask.

  “I don’t fuck them, Elias. I do… other things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Hoods, and chains, and sucking cocks,” she says.

  “Are you fucking with me right now?” I ask.

  “I’m just being honest, Elias. If I was fucking with you, believe me, you’d know it.”

  I… I actually laugh. For real.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Nadia says. “You’re thinking… Why’s she doing this? Why’s she playing a game with Jordan? Why’s she submitting? But the question you should really be asking, Elias, is what am I getting out of this?”

  “Well?” I ask. “What are you getting out of this?”