Turning Point Club Box Set

by JA Huss

  “Who’s Lawton?”

  “My real-estate guy.”

  “I don’t think I want to move in with you,” she says.

  I flip the pancakes and the bacon, then turn to her. “You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”

  She tries not to smile, but doesn’t quite succeed.

  “And of course you don’t want to move in with me. That’s practically the point of making you.”

  “You can’t make me do anything, Bric.”

  “Elias, Nadia. You need to choose a name for me. So let’s just go with Elias. And yes, I’m very good at making reluctant women do my bidding. So I can make you move in with me. I’d just prefer if you gave in a little to set the proper tone. Plus it will save us time in the house hunt. What neighborhood do you like?”

  “This game isn’t going to end the way you think,” she says.

  “Maybe this game never ends? Ever think of that?”

  She actually laughs this time. But I don’t see it. I’m back at the food.

  “Oh, yeah, I can picture it now. Nadia, Jordan, and Br—Elias forever.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “If we all play well, it could happen. I spent three years with the last girl.”

  “Who,” she spits, “the fuck would spend three years with you?”

  Rochelle, I say in my head. And Quin. “People who play well, that’s who.”

  “Then why aren’t you still together?”

  “Because they fell in love and left together.”

  “Wait,” she says. And when I turn to look at her, she’s got her hand up in a stop gesture. “You had a threesome for three years?” Her face is all scrunched up like this makes no sense to her. “And they fell in love. So you just… bowed out? Or it was a bad break-up?”

  “It doesn’t matter—”

  “The fuck it doesn’t!” And now she’s animated and smiling again. So… getting the upper hand is what makes her tick, huh? “How about this, Elias. You want to get to know my secrets? Then you have to offer yours up in return.”

  “I have nothing to hide, Nadia. We played a good game.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Sure,” I say, shrugging. “I loved her. But not the way Quin loved her. And they had a baby.”

  “A baby!” She’s practically cackling now. “Holy fuck. This is a delicious story, isn’t it? I need to know everything.”

  I turn back to the food, find it ready, and then push the toast down in the toaster. “Ask anything you want. I have nothing to hide. And if you think talking about them makes me uncomfortable, you’re wrong. I’m happy to tell you all about them.”

  “It was his baby?” she asks.

  I roll my eyes as I grab two more plates from the cupboard. But she can’t see me because my back is still turned. “Yes. I wouldn’t walk away from my own baby, even if they were in love.”

  “Boy? Girl?”

  “Girl,” I say, loading up our plates. “Adley. Fucking adorable, if I do say so myself.”

  “How old?”

  I think for a second. “Like seven months now.”

  “Were you there for the birth?”

  “No,” I say, just as the toast pops up. “Rochelle left when she was only a few months pregnant. We didn’t meet the baby until she was six months old.”

  “Wait,” Nadia says. “So this shit just happened, didn’t it? Was this the reason Jordan sent me to you on Christmas? Awww,” she says. And when I turn and place the new food in front of her and take the old plate away, she’s got her hand over her heart in a mock gesture of swooning. “Jordan gave me to you to cheer you up.”

  I butter the toast, cut it, and place her diagonally-cut pieces on her plate. “Congratulations,” I say. “You’ve got me all figured out.”

  “So how—”

  “Eat,” I say, kinda sick of this game but not willing to give her more ammunition than she earned. “I won’t make it again, even if it does get cold. And you’re gonna eat it no matter what this time.”

  Surprisingly, she gives in to that and picks up a piece of bacon. “So how come you were sad that night? I mean, if you so willingly walked out of that game?”

  “Who says I was sad?”

  “Well, obviously Jordan doesn’t go around giving away his best woman to just anyone.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “He’s got more than one of you?”

  She laughs. And it’s a good laugh. Real too. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I know he’s been pretty preoccupied with me these past few weeks.”

  “Training you,” I say. “For me, I think.”

  She has a forkful of pancake heading for her mouth when she stops and says, “What?”

  “He told me. He brought you to the Club a couple times. We were talking at the bar. You were looking at me that first time. You slapped him both times. And he said you thought yourself a top. And I laughed.”

  “It’s funny, huh?”

  “You’re just too young, Nadia. To know the difference.”

  “I don’t think so.” Her back is straighter now. Like I offended her.

  “Anyway, he invited me in that first day. But I said no.”

  “Because of… Rochelle and… Quin, right?”

  “Yes. We had something good.”

  “Obviously,” she concedes. “If it lasted so long. Do you miss them?”

  “Sure. All the time.”

  “And I’m the replacement?”

  I shrug. “Why not? Does it make you feel used?”

  “No,” she says. Defiantly. “I’m using you too.”

  “For what?”

  “Sex.” She shrugs. “What else.”

  “But you can get sex from the little boys at that club, right?”

  “They’re not little boys. Everyone there is eighteen. And two of those guys were twenty-two.”

  “Same difference,” I say. “Boys.”

  “And what? You’re a man? I need you, a man, to give me what I don’t know I want?”

  “You got it in one, sister.”

  “Shit.” She laughs. “You definitely have an ego, that’s for sure.”

  “So house hunt tomorrow?”

  “I’m working.”

  “At the ballet?”

  “You know where I work.”

  “So you’ll be too tired to go out tomorrow night?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Did you say yes, then?”

  “House hunt tomorrow. Got it on my calendar.”

  “Good,” I say. We eat in silence after that. It makes her uncomfortable, but that’s exactly why I don’t talk. Just eat. And when we’re both finished, I pick up our plates and take the dishes to the sink. “So, are you ready for your punishment?”

  “What?”

  I turn to face her. Cross my arms over my chest. Lean into the countertop. “For slapping me, Nadia. You can’t slap me and get away with it. So are you ready? Or would you like a day to think about your actions and see if you can make it up to me tomorrow?”

  “I thought you weren’t gonna make a big deal about the slaps?”

  “This is me being cool about it. But everything has consequences.”

  “What kind of punishment?”

  “Slaps, of course.”

  “On my face?”

  “You slapped mine.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “I won’t leave marks. You won’t need excuses for why you have a black eye. I won’t beat you, Nadia. But it’s gonna hurt.”

  “As much as I hurt you? Is that how this works? Well,” she says, dabbing her lips with her napkin, “I don’t think I hurt you too much. So let’s just do it now. Where do you want me?”

  Jesus Christ. Point to Nadia for having balls. “Go lie across the arm of the couch,” I say.

  “Face down? Or face up?”

  “Down.”

  “I thought you wanted to slap my face.”

  “I’ll get there eventually.”

  Her mouth makes an o shap
e. But she turns and walks across the room to the couch. One backward glance before she lowers herself as commanded.

  “Spread your legs,” I say.

  “Will you spank my ass?” she jokes. But she opens her legs. Her pussy is staring at me. Long, wet, pink folds stretched tight.

  “No,” I say, opening up a kitchen drawer and grabbing the rope I keep in there. “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”

  “No comment.”

  Wise girl.

  I take the rope over to her. “Hands behind your back.”

  She obeys, giving in so easy. She has no idea who and what I am. Which pleases me. I loop the rope around her wrists She looks over her shoulder at me, face screwed up with questions. “I didn’t tie you up, Elias.”

  “So?” I shrug. “What’s your point?”

  “You said slaps.”

  “I get it, Nadia,” I say, pulling the rope tight so she can’t get away. “You like this shit a lot. But try to play a little hard to get next time, will ya? Make it interesting for me?”

  “God.” She sighs. “You’re a dick.”

  “Stand up,” I say.

  She struggles a little, but manages. Then turns to face me. “Give it your best shot, Elias. I can take it.”

  Both of my eyebrows go up. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Very,” she purrs.

  I slap her face. Her head turns into it from momentum. I leave a bright pink handprint across her cheek.

  “Fuck, Bric!”

  “Elias,” I say. “This is me, Nadia. Elias. The real me.”

  She huffs out a breath of air. Grinds her teeth for a second. Then says, “Do it. You’ve got one more, asshole. So just do it.”

  “Fuck that,” I say, chuckling a little. “I think I got you good enough with one.”

  “One little slap? Then why did you tie me up?”

  I take off my fun apron and throw it on the ground. My dick is hard and Nadia can’t help herself. She stares at it. “We can fuck, if you want. I don’t care.”

  “No,” I say. “No. I’m not gonna fuck you.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing?”

  “Get on your knees,” I say. “And open your legs so I can see your pussy.”

  I walk over to the kitchen, pull out a note pad from a drawer and a big, fat, red marker, write five words on the pad, then rip the piece of paper off with a quick flick of my hand.

  My phone is on the counter, so I grab that too, and walk back over to stand in front of Nadia. “Open your mouth,” I say.

  She looks at my cock. Licks her lips. And opens her mouth. I press the piece of paper on her tongue and say, “Close.”

  She obeys again. A little confused, but still not quite getting it.

  I take a picture. Smile at it. At her. That haughty, defiant look plastered all over her face. “You’re pretty,” I say, taking the piece of paper out of her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she says back, voice filled with mockery.

  “You know what I’m gonna do with this?” I ask her, showing her the picture.

  Her eyes narrow as she reads what I wrote. Considers all the possibilities as they flood her mind.

  “Well, I’m not going to do anything with it if you behave,” I say. “But if you ever”—I cover the two steps between us and grab her face with my free hand—“ever fucking hit me again, Nadia Wolfe, I’ll ruin your fucking life with this picture.”

  The mind fuck continues. She just hasn’t caught on yet.

  Chapter Twenty - Nadia

  Later, when I’m alone, and after Bric dressed me up in the promised sweats and had a car drive me home—not him, mind you, but a service. Dick—I think about that note.

  I want to be owned.

  I actually laughed when I read it. “This,” I said, “is the best you can do?” There were moments when I actually felt sorry for Bric’s game. Or lack thereof.

  But they were brief moments.

  “It’s powerful enough for me,” he’d said. “And you can tell yourself that making this little fact public won’t bother you a bit. But you’d be lying.”

  “I don’t want to be owned, Bric.”

  “Elias,” he corrected me. “And you definitely do. This note proves it. Besides, it won’t matter. People will believe it. They’ll see you differently, Nadia.” He whispered that last part. “They’ll see you as pathetic, and stupid, and weak.” He leaned into my ear for the second half of that threat.

  And then he drew back and smiled at me. “Of course it’s a lie. You’re none of those things.” He shrugged. “But will it matter?”

  Dick.

  Now, I’m sitting in my apartment holding a hot cup of tea in my hands, staring out the window, eyes blurring the city lights in front of me, thinking up ways to get even with him.

  Because he’s right. People will believe that note even though it’s not true. And maybe they never say anything to me, or anyone else. It doesn’t matter. They have that note in their head and I will turn into this pathetic, stupid, weak person that Bric made me into.

  He’s not going to get away with this. Never. I will die fighting before I will let him change people’s perception of me.

  Plan something, Nadia. Now.

  OK, calm. I’m calm.

  He wants to believe he can control me. Dominate me. Bend me to his will. Make me submit. But he needs to believe he’s the reason it’s happening. Because I’m not naturally submissive, right? I’m like him. We’re two sides of the same coin. So if he can get me to bend that makes him… special.

  Oh, Elias Bricman. I have you now, honey. You want to be special? I can make you feel special. I can fuck with your head just as much as you can fuck with mine.

  I grab my phone and press his contact number.

  He picks up on the first ring. “Hello, Nadia.”

  “Hello… Elias.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Perfect,” I say. “But…” I pause. Count the seconds until he gives in and has to ask.

  “But? What?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “For those slaps. And being difficult earlier. I know I apologized already, but I don’t think it was sincere enough. So I’d like to try again.”

  If he were here in front of me, I’d see that eyebrow shoot up his forehead in surprise. But he’s not. So I just imagine it instead.

  “I’m not sure if I believe you more now, or then,” Bric says.

  “And I just want to say goodnight. And thank you,” I add. It’s a nice touch. “For the great New Year’s Eve experience. I haven’t talked to Jordan yet but he’ll probably come for lunch tomorrow so I’ll tell him then.”

  “He’s busy tomorrow,” Bric says.

  “Oh,” I say, adding in a wistful sigh.

  “He called me a little while ago and told me to tell you he won’t be around this week. But we’re gonna house-hunt without him.”

  I roll my eyes. House-hunt. Jesus Christ.

  “What time do you get home tomorrow?”

  “Well,” I say softly. “The camp stuff is over now, so I have rehearsals until two.”

  “So you’re off at two now?”

  “Yes,” I say, trying not to sound regretful. Not because of class, but because now he’ll want to dominate my days as well as my nights

  “Perfect. Be down in your lobby at three. Wear something classy and make sure you’re smiling.”

  He hangs up.

  I just stare at the phone. I’m so pissed off for a few seconds, my hand shakes. But I take a few deep breaths, picture my plan in my head, and let it all out.

  Elias Bricman wants me to be the slave of his dreams? Wants to own me? Dominate me? Make me submit?

  I can do that. If it gets me the payout at the end, I can most definitely do that.

  “Nadia?” Chris says the second I walk through the door of the company.

  “Yes?” I say, anxious to get to class. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed pushing my body beyond its limits
. Making it bend to my will.

  “This was just delivered.” She’s holding out a large yellow envelope.

  “Who’s it from?” I ask, reaching for it.

  “Elias Bricman,” she says through her smirk. “Are you dating him? I thought you were dating that Jordan guy? I like him. He’s fucking hot. But Elias Bricman. Jesus, Nadia. Tell me how you do it.”

  “Do what?” I ask, staring down at the envelope. He put his fucking name on it. And I recall that one conversation we had. The one where I warned him about the gossip that would start circulating if people from the company saw us together.

  That dick. He did this on purpose. I want to be owned. He used my own words against me. Dick.

  “How do you get all these deviant men to like you?”

  I drag my eyes off the envelope and meet her gaze. “He’s helping me find a house, Chris. That’s all.”

  “But you live in a company apartment. Why do you need a house?”

  I want to tell her to mind her own fucking business. And I would. If this was last week. But I can’t, because this is today. And Bricman has a picture that will change people’s perceptions of me. “Oh, I just want to make sure people who need that apartment more than I do can live there.” It’s a stupid excuse because I make no money as a dancer, and my rank of demi has only slightly better pay than the other girls in the corps. But it makes me look generous. Magnanimous.

  “So sweet of you,” Chris says. I’m not sure she’s buying it because I’m naturally bitchy and she’s caught on to that fact. But it gets me through her questions.

  “Gotta run,” I say. “If you know anyone who needs that apartment, you can tell them I’m moving out soon.”

  I don’t wait for her answer, just take my envelope to the locker room and dump my bag. I’m a few minutes early, people chatting as they adjust their clothes, slip on their shoes. Whatever. So I rip open the envelope and peek inside.

  “What’s that?”

  “Jesus, Matthew. Way to sneak up on a girl.” He’s leaning over my shoulder to get a look at my envelope.

  And lucky me. It’s nothing kinky or threatening. It’s just real-estate brochures. “Just house-hunting stuff,” I say.

  “Lemme see!” he says, grabbing the envelope out of my hands. “What the…” He holds the brochures in his hand and I’m immediately sorry I mentioned the house hunt.