Page 13 of His Turn

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.