Page 95 of Taking Turns

We laugh after that. Marcella Walcott might never be the same after tomorrow night. She has no idea how well we play this game.

But she’s about to figure it out.

The next day is filled with planning for the parties coming up, a mundane meeting with the Club staff, and of course, going over my plans with Chella tonight in my head. By the time seven o’clock comes, I’m ready to ditch the party and get down to the real point of the evening.

That is… until I see her in that silver dress.

“Jesus Christ,” I say, mouth open, eyes on the low-cut slit down the front of her floor-length sheer silver gown, because almost half of each breast is exposed.

It looks better on her than I could’ve ever imagined.

“It came with tape,” she says, looking down with a frown. “Two-sided tape so that I don’t have a wardrobe malfunction tonight at your stuffy party.”

I smile at her characterization of tonight’s party. “Don’t worry, Miss Walcott. This party is not as stuffy as the last one.”

“I really hope not, Bric. Because this dress is… movie-premiere-red-carpet party. Not we-want-your-money-for-medical-research party.” She bends over to stare between her legs. “Is my pussy showing through this lace?”

I chuckle again. I cannot remember having so much fun giving a girl a dress before. “Quin is right about you.”

“What’s he say?” She crinkles her nose, but it doesn’t last. Her eyes are smiling as she envisions that conversation in her head.

“He says you’re funny.”

“Funny?” Her nose crinkle is back. “Is that all? Not fuckable? I mean, good God, I’ve given him the best three weeks of my life and all he has to say about me is that I’m funny?”

I lean down and kiss her mouth, my hand sliding behind her neck to keep her close. “And fuckable,” I whisper into our kiss. “One day soon, maybe by the time next Monday comes along, we’ll both fuck you together at the same time.”

She draws in a deep breath. “I can’t wait.”

Me either. “Are you ready?” I ask. “Do you have your purse?”

She grabs the evening bag off the side table in the foyer. “Oh, this old thing?” She laughs. “I do have to give you guys credit. When you decide to give a girl a purse, you give a girl a purse. I know how much this Jimmy Choo clutch costs, Mr. Bricman. I shop at Saks as well.”

“Then you know it’s not good enough for you, Miss Walcott.” I open the foyer closet and take out a black wool shawl coat and drape it around her shoulders. “Not nearly good enough. And I will do better next time.”

“Oh, man.” She laughs. “I could get used to this.”

“That’s the idea,” I say. “Ready?” I place my hand into the small of her back.

She smiles up at me. “Mmmm-hmm,” she says softly. “I think so.”

But underneath all her jokes is real apprehension. I’d be worried about her if she wasn’t apprehensive. Especially when I know what Smith and I have planned for later.

When we get downstairs she places her hand over her heart as we walk to my car. “No driver tonight?” She laughs. “I know what we’ll be doing in the car then.”

“It’s a special night,” I say, opening the door to my silver Mercedes AMG GT S. “You’ll never forget anything about this night, Miss Walcott.”

She looks up at me and says, “I’m getting nervous.”

But the only hint I give her is, “You should be. Now get in, Chella. We’re way past fashionably late already. The party started an hour ago and the performance is going to start in twenty minutes.”

I close her up in the car and walk around to get in on my side.

“What performance? I thought this was a party?”

“It is,” I say, revving the engine and pulling away from the curb. The Mountain Ballet Center is only about a mile away, so I go slow and enjoy this time with her. “But I’m a platinum-level supporter of the ballet, as are all Turning Point members. So every Christmas they put on a special show for us. Which is why I have to drive. It’s very hush-hush.”

“Oh. My God. What is happening right now?”