Page 37 of Taking Turns

“You better think it over, Chella,” Smith says in a hushed whisper as we approach them. “Because once you’re in, you never get out.”

I stop walking and look up at him. “Rochelle got out.”

“Did she?” Smith asks, wry grin on his handsome face. Why are all the assholes so handsome? “Do you really think she can just flip her upside-down life right-side up again and there won’t be consequences?” He’s totally serious and my heart begins to pound with the implications of his words. “She can walk away. They all walk away eventually, Chella. But they can’t escape. You’ll see,” he says. “You’ll see what I mean.”

We cross the final few steps and become one of the crowd.

“I’ve decided to return your date, Bric,” Smith says, taking my hand, which he’s been holding the entire time, and placing it on Bric’s arm. “I’m leaving. Nice to see you again, Matisse,” Smith says over his shoulder as he makes for the front door.

When Smith Baldwin commands attention, he gets it. I’ll give him that. Because everyone in the substantial crowd of people surrounding Matisse stops what they are doing to hear him speak.

Smith never looks back.

There is only a second or two of silent awe. The chatter begins again. I have to control myself so I don’t roll my eyes.

“Now you get walk through with me,” Bric says, smiling down at me. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, my date is anxious to show me what’s in the dark.”

When we’re safely inside the exhibit again, hidden in the shadows, Bric says, “Don’t take him seriously.”

I don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. “Why is he like that?”

“He’s an unhappy person, Chella. Very few things bring out the human in him these days. But don’t worry, you’ll be one of those things.”

“I don’t think so,” I say. “I think he’s playing with me. Like I’m just another piece on the game board.”

“His whole life is a game. And this,” Bric says, indicating us. “We’re a game too. But it’s a fun game. It’s fun if you play with the right people. And both Smith and I think you’re right for it.”

“And Quin?” I ask.

“He needs some time to adjust.”

“He liked Rochelle a lot?” I ask.

“More than he should, probably. I liked her too. What they had was not special. What I had with her was not special.”

“And what you’ll have with me won’t be special, either?”

“You’re missing the point, Chella.” He pushes me into a corner. Away from the people and the exhibits. It’s a small hallway that leads to a utility room door. His hands are on my legs. Fingers pulling on the slits of my dress, exposing the skin of my thighs. He palms my ass cheek and whispers, “Good girl,” when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear.

I place both hands on his chest to push him back, but he doesn’t yield.

“It’s not special, Marcella. Not with me, or Smith, or Quin. Not alone. Alone it’s nothing but fucking and filthy, sick desires. But what we have together is totally different. Shared ownership of anything implies partnership. Working together, finding common ground, and making decisions that are best for the group, not the individual. What you want doesn’t matter. What I want doesn’t matter. What Smith and Quin want doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is us. And once you figure out what us is, you’ll know what it’s really like to live. I promise you. You’ll know, and you’ll never go back to singular relationships. They’ll feel hollow and simple. You will be addicted to us and we’ll be addicted to you. It’s a disease, Chella. And you’re sick as fuck, just like us.”

I look up at him, then over his shoulder where my boss, and Matisse, are standing in front of a sculpture, talking. Their voices are loud and boisterous and they carry into the small hallway. And that’s when Bric slips his fingers between my legs and finds what he needs.

My permission.

“I’d like to fuck you right now. But all I can do right now is tease, Chella. Don’t let the details scare you away. You’re here because you understand the big picture.”

I’m not so sure about that, but I don’t say anything. Because the way he’s stroking my pussy feels too good to care.

“Come on my fingers, Chella. We’re not leaving this hallway until you do. And if anyone sees us, comes near us, I won’t stop. So you better do it fast, you fucking whore. You better clench down and show me it’s real, too. If you fake it, I’ll know. I’ll take you outside, bend you over a bench on the 16th Street Mall, lift your dress up so everyone can see your bare ass, and spank the shit out of you until you cry. Until you beg me to stop or until you come. So don’t fight it, just—”

I come. I moan. A little too loudly, but it makes Bric happy, so I don’t care.

He laughs in my ear as I pant through my orgasm. “Please,” he says, fisting my hair and pulling my head back so I have to look him in the eyes. “Sign that contract tonight so we can fuck you hard next week.”

Chapter Ten - Quin