Page 34 of His Turn

We’re both quiet on the way over to the Club. It’s not far, so the silence isn’t glaring. But his warning makes me second-guess all the moves I’ve planned.

Still, it’s exciting. I’ve been to the Club many times with Jordan, but aside from that one night at Bric’s apartment, I don’t make it upstairs. Or downstairs, for that matter. We have dinner in the White Room or drinks and dinner in the Black Room. Then he takes me home and fucks me at my house. Or in his car. Or someplace public. Wherever.

This will be the first time Elias is expecting me at the Club.

Just as I get my stomach to calm down from nerves, we’re there and the valet is opening my door. He extends a hand to help me out and Jordan makes his way around the car to offer me his arm.

I take it. Maybe even need it.

OK, Nadia. Play well tonight.

The people at the door greet Jordan and me. They take our coats, but then I am unexpectedly maneuvered towards the back stairs.

“What?” I whisper, leaning up to Jordan’s ear. “No dinner first?”

Jordan says nothing. And when I chance a glance up at his face, there’s no smile. His mouth is just a straight line of determination.

Hmmm.

So yes, all those butterflies in my stomach on the way over here were warranted. They have something planned for me tonight. Something that will put me in my place. Something that will give them power and make me submit.

We enter the elevator, but instead of taking it up to the fifth floor where I know Bric lives, we exit on the third floor.

“Where are we going?” I ask Jordan.

The hallways are quiet. Empty. So even though my words weren’t loud, they seem loud.

Jordan doesn’t answer. We keep walking down the dimly lit hallway until we reach the last door on the right. And then we stop. Jordan turns to me, offers me a small smile, and then places both hands on my cheeks and kisses me softly on the lips.

“Don’t make it hard, Nadia,” he says, whispering the words past my lips as he continues to kiss me.

“What—”

But his kiss becomes stronger now, his palms on my cheeks no longer gentle, but gripping.

“Don’t say anything,” he replies, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “Just give in to us and everything will be fine.”

Oh, yeah. The butterflies are back. I swallow hard, unfamiliar with the emotion coursing through my body.

Dread, I realize.

I’m considering my options. Thinking about backing out. But Jordan turns the handle and opens the door.

The room inside is… soft and maybe even romantic. The first thing I see are the long, sheer, pale yellow curtains partially hiding the downtown view. The next thing I notice is the soft, room-sized sheepskin rug. And that’s mostly because I trip over it as Jordan leads me forward. Then there’s the long table in the center of the room, covered with a white sheet. And Elias, standing at the head of it.

“Get undressed,” he commands, his words and tone evoking a sense of power. There is soft music playing. Something meditative and calming. It does the job because even though I swallow hard again, the butterflies are receding.

“Don’t make me tell you twice,” Elias says, his eyes trained on mine.

Jordan is already undressing. Puling his tie through the collar of his shirt.

I take a deep breath, hold it, and then let it out as I slip my shoes off. The rug is thick and luxurious under my constantly aching feet. I grip the long, soft fibers with my toes, ready to moan, that’s how good it feels.

When I reach for the zipper at the nape of my neck, Jordan is there to help me. He drags it down my body, and even though it’s not cold in here—in fact, it’s slightly too warm—a chill runs up my spine when my back is exposed to the air.

I slip the straps of the dress over my shoulders and let it fall to the ground at my feet. Jordan picks it up, takes it somewhere.

“I like the lingerie, Nadia,” Elias says, staring at my body like a wolf about to have dinner. “But it’s not appropriate for tonight.”