Page 34 of Taking Turns

Just… don’t do it.

There is no chance in hell I’ll do any of those things. And I prove it to my doubting inner self by bringing the collar up to my neck and fastening the clasp.

It’s tight and when I swallow hard and make my throat expand just ever so slightly it reminds me what it is.

A choker.

I do not have underwear on, just like Bric requested. And I can already feel the slickness pooling between my legs.

When the doorbell rings I shut off the bedroom light and walk slowly down the stairs. My black dress is long, but there is a slit up the side of each of my thighs. A thin, black satin wrap drapes casually around my bare shoulders, but I stop before opening the front door and put on my winter coat.

Bric is scowling at me through the window for making him wait.

I smile as I open the door. “You look nice,” I say. And he does. His tuxedo is perfect. Obviously tailored to his exact body specifications.

“As do you, Miss Walcott. You should’ve let me in so I could help you with your coat.”

“Hmm,” I say. “I’ll consider that. If there’s a next time.”

That makes him cock an eyebrow at me. “No games tonight, Chella.”

Chella. He says it so casually. Like he’s been calling me that name my whole life. Like he gave it to me. Like he owns that name.

“We’re past it.”

“I’m not sure we are,” I say, grabbing my evening bag and letting him guide me out the front door. Once on the porch, I stop to lock up, and then I place my hand on his arm and let him take me down the dozen or so steps to the waiting car. He opens the back door, I slide across the soft leather seat, and then he gets in next to me. Once we’re settled, the driver proceeds.

“Matisse is excited.”

“Oh, good,” I say. And I mean it. “I really hope the show does well.”

“How could it not?” Bric asks.

I let out a small laugh. “Well, it’s art. Not everyone is in the market for such things.”

“Will you be expected to stay late and help with closing?” Bric asks, ignoring my remark.

“No. We have staff for that. Show openings are a night out for me.”

“Good. Then we’ll stay an acceptable amount of time and reconvene at Turning Point.” He hesitates, then adds, “Quin isn’t coming.”

“To the meeting?” I ask.

“To the show. I think he’ll show for the meeting.”

I hold my breath for a few moments. Thinking about this meeting. Marveling at how easily I have accepted it as normal.

It’s not normal, Chella.

Shut up, I tell the inner monologue. I don’t care.

And I don’t. I have thought of nothing else but what will happen tonight. At the show, sure. Since Bric promised to stick his fingers inside my pussy while we’re there. But mostly afterward. When I have all three of them sitting around a table so we can discuss… sex. With me. With them.

Rochelle didn’t go into detail about her relationships. She just said that they were each unique and I’d have to get used to them. I’d have to get used to letting them be themselves while I pretend to be what they want.

“Are you cold?” Bric asks. “I can turn up the heat.”

He’s asking because my whole body is shaking with the anticipation.