Page 14 of Taking Turns

That’s how it all started. With me trying to be a good daughter, and then Rochelle, asking me, a girl who had everything and needed absolutely nothing at all, about that book.

A book I really did need.

I bought it. There was no way I wasn’t going to buy it. I paid eleven thousand, two hundred, and seventy-seven dollars for it. The owner thought I was nuts. He talked about it every time I went in the store for the next three months.

But by the time three months passed, Rochelle and I had already started making plans.

When Smith Baldwin came into the closet to release me, my head was pounding. I was scared and nervous. Mostly nervous. But he was nice. I think. I don’t know him, but I think that was him being nice. The way he dressed me, chose my clothing—my shoes, my coat, even, and then that jewelry. When he fastened the clasp on that gold collar around my neck I got a chill through my whole body and knew… that all the decisions I had made to get to this moment in time were justified.

The walk downstairs was exhilarating. I was so sure he knew I was up to something. But maybe he thought my shuddering body was just fear? Or nerves? Or a combination of both? Because he was silent until we stepped out of the elevator and Elias Bricman asked Smith if he wanted him to take over.

“No,” was all he said.

A very firm no.

Then it was a whirlwind of activity and I tried not to notice people I really wanted to notice. All eyes were on Smith as we left. He’s the kind of man you can’t help but notice.

He’s also the kind of man you don’t demand attention from.

When he promised the guest of honor that he’d be back, a little stab of jealousy pained my heart. Would he go back for her? But no, I decided as we walked to the waiting car and he opened the door for me. No, he told her to start without him.

I have an idea of what they do down there in the basement. Rochelle was very upfront about what this deal was. Smith Baldwin, Quin Foster, and Elias Bricman were her partners in a very dirty game called Taking Turns. And since she was already in a game with them, she wasn’t allowed down in the basement levels of Turning Point Club to play a different game. She had never been down there. Three years she’d been dating them and she had no idea what it looked like.

Of course, we spent long nights imagining. It’s not hard to imagine naked bodies slick with sweat. Various bondage apparatuses. Groans, and moans, and orgasms.

I slip a finger between my legs, the soft silk of the red dress I’m still wearing fluttering along the skin of my hand, then my arm. I’m so wet. That one touch from Smith had me so wet. And the way Quin fumed at me. So softly and so hard at the same time.

Did you miss me? God, I missed you.

Why the fuck would Rochelle walk away from that?

She would never tell me. Just said she was done and left it at that. But she didn’t want them to think too hard about her disappearance and that’s where I came in.

The replacement.

My alarm goes off on my phone and I realize I’ve been sitting here in the dark since I walked in the house after Smith dropped me off. When I got in the car he asked me where I lived and told the driver when I answered. But other than that, he never said another word until we pulled up in front of my townhouse down on Little Raven Street near Coor’s Field.

When the car stopped, I said, “Do you want to know my name?”

“No,” he said.

In the same firm tone he had told Bric no.

I got out and came inside. Sat here on my bed. Alone in this massive four-thousand-square-foot townhome feeling cold, and alone, and empty, and discarded. Staring out at my view of Coor’s Field, lit up, but empty. Kind of like me.

It didn’t work. Rochelle’s plan didn’t work. And I wonder where she is now? I wonder, after hearing how upset Quin was, if he’s looking for her?

I wonder if she got away?

I can’t, for the life of me, understand why she’d give them up.

The whole scene was… surreal.

I could hear them on the other side of the closet. Quin was loud. I had no problem making out his words. Bric was soft. I didn’t hear much of his conversation at all. But Smith… Smith was neither loud, nor soft. And I had to strain. Try very hard. But I did hear what he said.

He was done with Rochelle.

The alarm is still wailing at me to get up, get ready for work, get on with my day.