Jordan even used that term earlier. She’s a good replacement for… them. Them, meaning Rochelle and Quin. And… Adley.
“What do you want out of this?” I ask her, pushing away my depressing recent past. “Surely there’s something? Everyone has that little something that seems unattainable. Let us give it to you.”
“In exchange for submission?”
“I get it. Jordan told me a couple weeks ago. You’re not naturally submissive. You think you’re dominant.” I try to hold in my chuckle, but I don’t entirely succeed.
“Is that funny, Mr. Bricman?”
“A little bit, Nadia. Yes, it is. You’re what? Twenty years old? What do you know about being a top?”
“Twenty-three,” she corrects me. “And I know enough to understand I like it.”
“You like control, then? Not really controlling people?” I can almost feel her shrug. Like there is no difference. But there’s a big difference. “It’s not the same thing, Nadia. Do you fantasize about tying me up to a bed and having your way with me?”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m imagining it right now. Putting a hood over your head, chaining you up like you did me last night. Making you wonder what’s coming next. Beatings, or slaps, or sucking your cock.”
I do not hold in the laugh this time. Not at all. “Well, that’s never going to happen.”
“So you say,” she retorts.
“OK, am I wasting my time here? Just say so. I’ll hang up and never bother you again.”
“I already told you what I wanted, Mr. Bricman.”
“Something dear.” I sigh. “What’s that even mean?”
“I haven’t done my research yet, so I’m not sure. But I’ll know. Eventually. And once I do, that’s my price.”
“Maybe you’re really not worth it.”
“Then hang up.”
We’re silent for a few moments, both of us wondering what we should do. She’s not hanging up, that’s for sure. She’s getting something out of this conversation, I realize. Dominance over me. Not in the way one usually thinks of when you use the word dominance. But she definitely likes the control. She likes making me defensive.
“How about a date?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I don’t have time for dates.”
“Well, then let’s just stop this now. What we do with the players—Jordan and I—is definitely dating.”
“I’m not a loyal partner, Elias,” she says. Her choice to use my first name has the effect she was going for. It sets me back a second.
“Perfect. You have two of us to choose from.”
“I mean,” she says, stressing her words, “I won’t be faithful to you so dating is out of the question.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. “What?”
“I’m playing several games right now, Mr. Bricman. Yours is not the only one. So I won’t be giving those up.”
“Sexual games?” I ask, thoroughly intrigued at this point.
“Yes.”
“But you’re new in town.”
“So? I have connections. When I got this offer to dance at Mountain Ballet I called them up and set up a few… interactions.”
“So you are a whore?”
“If by that you mean I like to have a lot of sex, then yes. I’m a dirty fucking whore.”
Hmmm.
“Does that bother you?” she asks. Her filthy words from her sweet mouth are killing me right now.
“No,” I say. “It actually turns me on.”
“What?” she asks.
Do I read confusion? Is this bitch playing me?
“How do you manage the health check Jordan requires?” I ask.
“I don’t fuck them, Elias. I do… other things.”
“Such as?”
“Hoods, and chains, and sucking cocks,” she says.
“Are you fucking with me right now?” I ask.
“I’m just being honest, Elias. If I was fucking with you, believe me, you’d know it.”
I… I actually laugh. For real.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Nadia says. “You’re thinking… Why’s she doing this? Why’s she playing a game with Jordan? Why’s she submitting? But the question you should really be asking, Elias, is what am I getting out of this?”
“Well?” I ask. “What are you getting out of this?”
“Satisfaction.”
Yeah. This one is batshit crazy. I mean, all these girls we play with have a certain degree of crazy in them. Even Chella, though it was a lot more benign than this one’s brand of psychosis. And Rochelle too, though I never really figured her out.
“Do you want to play or not?” I finally ask, reaching the end of my patience.
“I do if you do.”
“Can you be serious for a moment? And stop acting like a child? I mean, I get it. You practically are a child, but let’s pretend you’re a grown-up for a few more minutes and see if we can’t work out a deal.”
“I don’t respond to insults, Mr. Bricman. I can take anything you throw at me. Words”—she laughs—“words are useless weapons. They bounce off, Elias. So if that’s your game plan, you’ve already lost.”
“I’ll keep that in mind about the words,” I say, letting out a sigh. “How about we take a night to cool off and think it over, hmmm? Have another go at it tomorrow.”
“Fine with me,” she says. “Have a nice evening.” She ends the call and leaves me to stare at my phone.
What the fuck just happened?
I shake my head and laugh, answering my own question. “I have no clue.”
I press the contact number for Jordan. He picks up on the second ring. “Did she call you back?”
“She sure did,” I say. “That bitch is nuts.”
“Right? She’s fucking perfect.”
“Where did you find her?” I ask.
“A directory online. A kink chat on the dark web. Why, you think she’s dangerous?”
“She might be,” I say.
“Too dangerous for you?” he laughs.
“No,” I say.
“Are you in or out?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. I think it’s up to her.”
I think Jordan spits out a drink at that comment. “Since when?” he asks. “Since when do you let the women call the shots in the game?”
But I have no answer for him. So I just say nothing.
“Well, listen…” Jordan says. “I’ll make nice tomorrow like I always do and we’ll have dinner with her. Not at the Club. Somewhere else. You take care of that and then swing by my place and pick me up at seven. We’ll pick her up together after that. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I say, ending the call.
I am restless the entire evening. And I’m not tired, since I slept all day. So I look her up online. I get her last name from the ballet website. A blog post about her joining the company. Nadia Wolfe. From a smaller company in New York. No other personal details. After searching I get a few phone numbers, none of which are the one she’s using now. And a list of several dozen residential addresses. There’s quite a few Nadia Wolfes, it seems.
I do a half-hearted search on social media, but then slap my laptop closed and decide it’s not worth my time.
Who cares who she is or why she’s doing this? Nadia Wolfe has obvious issues. Most of which will prevent her from playing a game with us. And if she does agree tomorrow night, well, she won’t be around long, that’s for sure. She wants something, but it’s some prize that has nothing to do with Jordan or me.
So fuck it. Fuck her. I don’t care about her motives.