Page 54 of His Turn

“Delivery,” the guy says, looking pretty pissed off. “Sign.”

I sign his clipboard and he reaches down to pick up a large black box with a white bow. Hands it to me. I don’t have a tip, but he knows this. I’m in a fucking robe. So he says, “I’ve already been tipped. Enjoy your package.” And then he turns away and walks down the hallway.

My phone rings in the bedroom and I know this is Jordan, so I get my shit together and run, almost fall on my face when I stumble over a rug, and catch it before it goes to voice mail. “Hello?” I say, breathless and disheveled.

“I’m picking you up. Bric thinks you’re going to stay home and you two made a deal. I heard all about last night, Nadia.”

“Yes…” And then I realize we’re in character. “Sir,” I finish.

I can feel him smile on the other side of the phone. “You’re going to need those manners tonight. Bring them with you.”

“Are you going to be there?”

He’s silent.

“Sir,” I add, rolling my eyes.

“Of course I’m going to be there. I’m playing the game, aren’t I?”

I wasn’t sure, asshole. I was just asking a simple fucking question. But I don’t say any of that out loud. Instead I say, “What time would you like me ready, sir?”

“Eight-thirty. Be dressed and downstairs. I don’t want to come up. And Nadia, wear the capelet I bought you for Christmas.”

Jerk. “Yes, sir—”

But before I can finish I get hang-up beeps.

How is this my life? Any of it. Well, besides the dancing. I don’t even remember having fun last night and I know I’m sure as hell not going to have fun tonight. They’re going to boss the hell out of me. It’s not going to be anything like the other night when they softened me up with that massage. It’s going to be humiliation to the extreme.

So don’t go, a little voice says in my head. Stop all of this. Put it behind you. Let go of the past and start over.

I would. It’s a good idea. But I can’t.

Because I like it.

I like when Jordan forces me to obey him. Not because I want to submit, but because he expects me to fight about it. He expects me to rebel. He expects me to be bad.

I am bad.

And that makes me smile.

I go back out into the living room and pick up the package. It’s heavy and big.

The box is glossy black and the ribbon is smooth white satin. I set it down on the couch and pull the bow, making it fall apart and puddle into a soft heap.

Then I whisk it aside, lift off the lid, and peel back the white tissue paper.

The gown is exquisite. I know this before I even pick it up and lift it out.

Silver, with elegant beading down the middle of the deep v-neck of a sheer bodice. My tits will show through. My nipples will push against the thin mesh, peaking and eager. They will probably be pinched.

My hand goes to one. It’s already sore from last night. Tonight they will use clamps, I bet. But I have tomorrow off, is all I think about that. I will have a day to recover from whatever they have planned.

I check the time and realize it’s late already. Almost five o’clock. So I run the bathtub, making the water as hot as I can stand to bring some pink life back to my pale skin, and soak in soft bubbles. This tub is so big, three people could fit in it. I wonder if I will ever get Bric and Jordan in here with me?

And I feel stupid. Because… Bric. In a tub. Ridiculous.

When I’m done I take a long time to dry and brush my hair, blowing it out perfectly straight and glossy. I will leave it down tonight. So they can pull it.