Becoming by Jourdyn Kelly

 

“BECCA! WAIT!”

Rebecca Cuinn slowed her pace marginally and let her roommate catch up. “What’s up, Allie?”

“Geez,” Allie wheezed. “Why do you always have to walk so fast?”

Rebecca slanted a look at her friend. It wouldn’t do her any good to point out that she had been walking at a normal pace. Allie would just accuse her of calling her overweight, and Rebecca was not about to get caught in that trap again.

It had been a source of contention between the two since they became roommates in their freshman year. Rebecca had been far too nervous to notice anything amiss with her new roomie and never noticed the occasional glares. It took Allie two semesters to warm up to Rebecca, finally confessing that she had been jealous of her when they first met. As time passed and the two started to know each other a little better, Allie continued to compare her short, squat stature with Rebecca’s equally short, yet svelte build. As annoying as it was, Rebecca would do the obligatory “you’re not fat” speech—which she sincerely meant—and change the subject.

“Sorry.” Rebecca slowed down even more, though at this point she could probably sit down and be moving faster. “Did you need something?”

Allie smiled enthusiastically. “We have been invited to a Gamma party!”

“Allie, we have a major test coming up…”

“On Monday! It’s Friday, Becca. You can’t seriously tell me that you’re going back to the dorm to study all freakin’ weekend.”

Rebecca mentally patted herself on the back for refraining to comment on Allie’s dire need to do exactly that. She’s probably going to ask for my notes Monday morning.

“Not that I need to explain anything to you, but I’m going to study and read. It’s been a long week, Allie. I’ve really been looking forward to just relaxing.”

“You are so boring!”

“Thanks,” Rebecca deadpanned.

“I mean it, Becca. We’re in our senior year here and I haven’t once seen you drunk or naked.” Allie rolled her eyes when Rebecca raised her brows. “You know what I mean. You’ve never had a guy in our room. And, you’ve never spent the night with anyone. It’s like you’re a virgin!” Allie muttered to herself. “Yeah, right.”

Stunned, Rebecca stopped in her tracks. She wasn’t sure what she was most offended by. That she was being criticized for being good or that Allie literally scoffed at the idea that Rebecca could be a virgin.

“Hang on. What do you mean, ‘yeah right’?”

Allie was ten feet away before she realized Rebecca was no longer next to her. She finally stopped and backtracked to the stupefied blonde.

“I mean, you’re gorgeous. No one that looks like you is a virgin.”

Rebecca peered down at her faded Levi’s and t-shirt. Being on an accelerated course to get her Master’s in Entrepreneurship, she never put much thought into clothes or make-up like other girls. Where Allie owned a ton of products that littered their room, Rebecca was content to keep it simple. Business plans were what she was interested in. Not parties, fashion, or boys. Especially not boys. Though that wasn’t something she felt she needed to confide in Allie.

“Looks like me?”

Allie rolled her eyes again. A common occurrence with her. If they had been in a real argument, she would have followed it up with some muttered curse about how she had to always explain everything.

“I swear you’re oblivious to the way people look at you. You’re blonde, thin, have flawless skin, an ass for days, and those incredible eyes. Though I’m sure no guy is looking there when they can stare at your big tits.”

“Why does it feel like your compliments are really criticisms?” And why do I feel so dirty hearing you talk about my ass and tits?

“I’m just saying, you’re like every dude’s wet dream. And, the only reason I’m invited to this party tonight is because you’re my roommate and I said I could get you to go. So, do me a solid and go. You’re too serious. Get drunk, get laid, and let me ride on your damn coattails!”

Rebecca shook her head and started walking again. “I’m not going to some lame frat party. I’m sorry. Why would you want to go anyway if you think they really didn’t want you there?”

“Hello? To get laid! With enough alcohol, even someone like me could look like you.”

“You sorely need to work on your self-esteem, Allie.” Rebecca shifted her bookbag to her other shoulder. The only problem with accelerated courses was it felt like she was carrying double the books.

“Yeah, well, I can do that after I graduate.”

I don’t think graduating with a 2.7 GPA is going to help your self-esteem. “I’m just not interested,” Rebecca said aloud.

“Buff guys, drinking, grinding all up on you. Did I mention buff guys? How could you not be interested?”

This time, Rebecca rolled her eyes. Zero interest. “You’ve been watching too many movies if you think there are only ‘buff guys’ at these things. But, hey, knock yourself out. Go and have fun. Just be careful and don’t leave your drink unattended.”

“You’re really not going to do this? Not even for me?”

Rebecca stopped once more and looked at her roommate. Even after the years they’ve been rooming together, she couldn’t call Allie a good friend. Never once did Rebecca feel comfortable enough to tell Allie her deepest, darkest secrets. Truth was, Rebecca didn’t have any true friends and she was happy that she was graduating soon.

“If you knew me at all, Allie, you wouldn’t even be asking me to do this. Look, whether I go or not, you’ve already been invited. You don’t need me.”

“You’re right. I don’t need you,” Allie huffed. “Go be your boring self.” With that last barb, Allie stormed off in the opposite direction of their dorm.

“Being focused does not make me boring,” Rebecca muttered as she continued towards her building. So what if she was still a virgin? That was her choice and she definitely wasn’t going to lose that at some frat party with some frat boy.

College was about learning for Rebecca, not sex. Besides, she had promised her Aunt Willamena that she would be good. She, at least, owed her aunt that much for taking such loving care of her after her parents died.

She let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door of her dorm behind her. After kicking off her shoes, Rebecca plopped down on her bed and plucked a well-worn book from under her mattress. This book had nothing to do with business and everything to do with pure, unadulterated pleasure. She smiled, hoping Allie would be gone for most of the night.

“TURN IN YOURtests as you leave,” Professor Brundt announced in his booming voice. Rebecca jumped slightly at the sound and checked her watch. She had handed in her test twenty minutes ago and got caught up studying for the next one. She closed her textbook with a thud and started gathering her things.

“Rebecca? Please stay.”

Rebecca looked up at the professor, making sure he was talking to her, and nodded. She checked her watch again. Thirty minutes to her next class. She could spare a few, even though she had no clue what Brundt could want from her.

“Teacher’s pet,” Allie muttered as she passed by.

Rebecca smiled sweetly, ignoring the jab. Whereas Allie was still miffed about the party, Rebecca had been relieved to get the entire weekend alone. Allie hadn’t come back to their dorm until late Sunday afternoon which gave Rebecca ample time to study, take notes, read her trashy novels, and rest. It was perfect. She didn’t even care when, as predicted, Allie asked for Rebecca’s study notes. Being the dutiful roommate, Rebecca gave them to her knowing they probably wouldn’t help anyway.

She turned her attention to her professor as the last student disappeared through the door. His course wasn’t the most popular amongst the students. Entrepreneurship Business Plan & Perspective may not have been the most exciting subject. However, to someone with a mind for business like Rebecca, it was fascinating. “Is something wrong, Professor?”

The older man—likely in his mid-fifties if Rebecca guessed correctly—sat on the corner of his desk and waved a piece of paper in his hand. “You finished this test pretty quickly.”

Rebecca shrugged. “I knew the material.”

The professor shook his head. “It’s more than that.”

Rebecca tilted her head and studied her teacher. He was unassuming, perhaps a bit conservative with his sweater vests, tweed jackets, and khakis, but she couldn’t deny he knew his stuff. And she was one of his best students. That wasn’t her ego talking, just frankness based off of her grades. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting she had cheated.

“I don’t understand,” she said carefully.

“I had a chance to grade your test while the others were finishing. It’s perfect.”

“I studied.”

“Again, it’s more than that, Miss Cuinn.” He put the paper down behind him and picked up a folder. “These are just a few of your business proposals, though I’ve examined them all. They’re brilliant.”

“And, that’s a problem?” Rebecca still had no idea why the professor had kept her after class. Not knowing all of the facts always made her a little nervous.

“On the contrary. It’s extraordinary. Your innate ability to find multiple ways any business can turn a profit in a significantly abbreviated period of time is a commodity people will pay a fortune for. Which is why I’ve recommended you to a friend of mine.”

All of the preposterous scenarios that ran through her mind evaporated at Brundt’s words. “Wait, recommended me?”

“Precisely. My friend owns an exclusive business here in town. Their objective is to make major revisions; however, I’ve seen the books, and the place is bleeding money. What they need is someone to come in with a business plan that will not only bring the place back into the black and keep it upscale but give them the means to make these changes. I think you’re that person.”

“Me? But, I’m a student.” She was flattered, of course. And the thought of putting more of her business solutions to the test real world was intoxicating. Was she ready? Hell, was she even qualified?

Professor Brundt shook his head. “You’ve done internships before, so I know you have more confidence than that, Miss Cuinn. You’re about to graduate with your Bachelor’s and Master’s. Your work ethic is as exceptional as your work.” He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket and pulled out a business card. “If you are interested, call this number and make an appointment to meet with the owner. I implore you to do this, Rebecca. An opportunity like this doesn’t come along very often. As you said, you’re still a student. Imagine the work you will get with something like this under your belt.”

Imagine what would happen to my reputation if I fail. Despite the negative thought, Rebecca stood and took the card from Brundt. The only thing on it was a number. No company name, no contact name.

“Who am I supposed to ask for?”

“Just tell them who you are. They’ll know.”

As confused as she was with the situation, she thanked him for the chance to prove herself.

SHE FLIPPED THEcard over and over through her fingers. The anticipation of what came after a simple phone call had been enough of a distraction that she actually struggled to get through her last class. Something she didn’t enjoy. Setting the card down on the table, Rebecca gave it a little spin. Of course, the intrigue was there. She’d be foolish not to be curious. Still, she had virtually zero information about who or what she would be working with.

It was meticulous research and preparation that made her good at what she did. How was she to do any of that when she hadn’t a clue as to what type of business this place was? She didn’t like being unprepared and here she was, being asked to go into one of the most important meetings of her young career, completely unprepared.

So, she did the only thing she could do at the moment. She picked up her Nokia and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Aunt Wills.”

“Rebecca! What a surprise! Is something wrong?”

Rebecca chuckled at her aunt’s ever-present need to be a therapist. “Nothing is wrong. Why do you always ask me that when I call you on an unscheduled day?”

“Because, you usually only call me on unscheduled days when something is wrong,” her aunt countered with humor.

“Touché,” Rebecca laughed. “To answer your question, Dr. Woodrow, nothing is really wrong. I simply need some advice.”

“Ah, it just so happens that I have an incredibly expensive, highly distinguished degree that gives me the ability to do just that. And, I happen to be particularly good at it.”

“I agree.” It never ceased to amaze her how her Aunt Wills could always get a smile out of her. Even at a time when Rebecca thought she would never smile again, her aunt was there to make a devastating situation slightly more bearable. Aunt Willamena wasn’t just a psychiatrist extraordinaire, she was the best aunt anyone could ever hope for. With that in mind, Rebecca described her current predicament.

“Rebecca,” Aunt Wills began once Rebecca was finished. “Life is always going to be full of circumstances that you will not be able to control. I believe you know that better than most. It won’t always be about how good you are at preparing for those events. Occasionally, you will need to discover how good you are at handling those unpredictable occurrences with grace. You are extraordinarily talented at what you do. Trust that. Trust yourself.”

Rebecca remained silent for a moment, soaking up everything her aunt just told her. “Wow. That is one hell of a degree you must have.”

“Eh, it’s amazing what you can get out of a Cracker Jack box.”

Rebecca laughed heartily. A rare occurrence when she wasn’t speaking with her Aunt Wills. “You’re crazy!”

“Ah, ah, ah. We shrinks do not approve of that word. Besides, we can’t be the crazy ones when the crazy ones are calling us.”

Rebecca shook her head at her aunt’s shenanigans. The sense of humor was the same as her mother’s and it reminded Rebecca of the times when she was a little kid watching the two women together. Fantastically wonderful memories that never failed to make Rebecca both happy and wistful. She could never allow herself to forget that she didn’t just lose her mother, but Aunt Wills lost her sister.

“I love you, Aunt Wills,” she said with quiet sincerity.

“I love you, too, my sweet girl. Now, make that call and knock ’em dead.”

Rebecca hung up with her aunt and promptly made her next phone call. No one said life would be easy. She learned that the hard way ten years ago when her parents died suddenly and tragically in a car accident. She wouldn’t tarnish their memory by easily giving up.

THE FOLLOWING DAYfound Rebecca sitting straight in a large, leather chair, ankles crossed, and hands linked in front of her. Her portfolio rested nearby, and she waited. She had been waiting—in this position—for the past ten minutes.

Inside, she was fuming. If this was the way the owners of this establishment did business, she could see why they were in trouble. Outwardly, she remained poised and relaxed. She may be young, but she knew better than to show any sign of weakness.

The tick-tock of an antique clock that sat on the shelf of an ornate bookcase ticked off the seconds in a soothing rhythm. Rebecca tapped her fingers to the tempo as she counted, allowing it to help keep her calm. She was about to hit one hundred when the door finally opened.

Her eyes locked with an extremely alluring—and unexpected—woman in her mid-thirties and Rebecca was grateful for the ability to hide her emotions. The first thing that caught her attention was the height. The dark-haired woman must’ve had at least six inches on Rebecca’s vertically challenged five-foot-two stature. Another prominent feature was how angular the woman was. Nose, chin, cheekbones. It was as though she were sculpted out of marble. She looked… hard, but it wasn’t from a muscular build that Rebecca preferred.

Her lean body was attired smartly in black slacks and a blood-red button-up shirt that flared open at the collar. It somehow matched the edgy, androgynous hairstyle the woman sported. Despite the androgyny—which Rebecca had always preferred—the woman wasn’t exactly Rebecca’s type. Even so, there was definitely something about her that piqued Rebecca’s interest.

She sat in her large, imposing chair and gave Rebecca a leering once-over and scoffed with an arrogant smirk. “You’re the genius Jim sent me? How old are you, kid?”

Rebecca mentally patted herself on the back for maintaining her professional composure and not rolling her eyes. Her looks often got a reaction from men and women alike. Most, like Allie, thought beauty equaled stupidity. Especially if you were young. “I’m twenty-one.” She tilted her head, keeping eye contact. “Forgive me, Ms.?”

“Pryce. Samantha Pryce,” the woman responded. It would seem the smirk was going to be a permanent fixture on that angular face. Fantastic.

“Ms. Pryce. You don’t strike me as a woman who would take a meeting with a stranger about your business without knowing everything there is to know about them. And, knowing Professor Brundt as I do, he would be completely upfront with you about who he’s sending.” Samantha’s smirk turned to something resembling admiration, but Rebecca wasn’t finished. She stood. “Perhaps this is a test to see if I would be intimidated by you. I’m not. You’ve kept me waiting and then you greet me with insults. If this is how you do business, Ms. Pryce, I’m not interested in getting involved.”

“Well, well,” Samantha grinned charmingly. “Jim was right. You are spirited.”

“I prefer to think of myself as driven and professional,” Rebecca countered. Ever the feminist, she wasn’t about to let someone belittle her will to become successful. Especially another woman.

The woman threw her hands in the air in surrender and laughed. “Okay, okay. I apologize if I offended you.”

Rebecca lifted a blonde brow. For some reason, she didn’t think Samantha Pryce apologized very often. Hell, she wasn’t even sure it was sincere.

“Do you know what it is that we do here, Miss Cuinn?” the older woman asked, proving to Rebecca that she knew exactly who she was.

“I don’t,” she admitted readily. “Though I imagine that’s by design as well.”

Samantha stood as well, accentuating the height difference. She looked down at Rebecca with that smirk of hers. “Some would consider your candor a challenge.” She gestured to the door. “Come with me. I’ll show you around and tell you what I’m looking to do.”

Rebecca—momentarily thrown off by the “challenge” statement—followed dutifully. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden dimness they walked into. Through the low light, she saw exactly what she was getting herself into. The dark room—illuminated only by the soft lighting of multi-colored bulbs that lined the ceiling—was trimmed in plush, red velvet. High backed chairs and booths encircled a black, glossy stage. In the middle of that stage was a brass pole. A scantily clad, huge breasted woman strutted by as if conjured up by some spirit with a sense of humor. She gave Samantha a sexy grin and the evil eye to Rebecca.

“This is Rebecca Cuinn, Gigi. She’s a VIP. Anything she wants, you get. Got me?”

“Yes, ma’am. Should I bring drinks?”

Samantha looked at Rebecca for an answer. When she received a negative shake of the head, she dismissed the young—man, she had big tits!—woman with a flick of the wrist.

“A strip club?” Rebecca asked haughtily. Surely, her skills were better than some titty bar!

Samantha frowned. “It’s more than a strip club, Miss Cuinn. We’re a “Gentlemen’s Club” if you will. Though more than half of our clientele is women.” She paused until Rebecca looked up at her. “Women who like women. Does that bother you?”

Another test, Rebecca thought with a mental eye roll. “Why should it?”

“You sounded relatively concerned about what goes on in our fine establishment. It’s only natural to assume…”

“My concern, as you called it, Ms. Pryce, was more surprise. And, seeing as I’m a lesbian myself, it would be hypocritical of me to be bothered by it.”

Samantha smiled. It was a smile that Rebecca could only define as predatory and her blood heated as it traveled south. She couldn’t understand her reaction to the smug woman. It wasn’t like Rebecca to mix business with pleasure. Her “pleasure” was a well thought out, successful business plan. Shit. Maybe she was boring.

“What exactly is it that you do for fun, Miss Cuinn?” Samantha asked, eerily paralleling Rebecca’s inner thoughts.

“Is that relevant to this meeting?” she answered before thinking.

Samantha took a step closer making Rebecca feel slightly claustrophobic. And hot. “If I said it was?”

Rebecca tilted her head up and cleared her throat. “I’m working on a double degree, Ms. Pryce. There’s a reason Professor Brundt sent me to you.” Though, now that she thought about that, how in the hell did stodgy Professor Brundt know about a place like this? “I’m very good at what I do, despite my age. That means I don’t have time for much else.”

“Hmm.”

That was the only response Samantha gave before turning and walking away. Rebecca wasn’t sure if she should follow or if she had been dismissed. She erred on the side of caution and jogged to catch up with the taller woman’s long strides. When Samantha came to an abrupt stop in front of a row of doors, Rebecca narrowly missed running into her.

“These,” Samantha pivoted just in time to see Rebecca taking a step back. She smiled that predatory smile again and continued. “These are the rooms we use for private lap dances. I have a vision for them. I have a vision for this whole place. That’s why you’re here.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want to expand our horizons. Instead of just lap dances in here, I want to equip them for more… fun.”

Despite Rebecca’s uneasiness with where she thought this was headed, she pressed on. “Fun?”

“Yes. Each room,” she pointed at them to emphasize her point, “will be a distinct color. Each color will represent the experience level of the occupants. Or, what they’re willing to try.”

“What exactly are we talking about, Ms. Pryce?”

“I’m talking about a sex club, Miss Cuinn. Specifically, a BDSM club.” Samantha watched Rebecca closely. “Do you know what that is?”

Rebecca had never felt so naïve in her life. And completely out of her element. “I—I think Professor Brundt made a mistake. I’m not the right person for this job.” She realized she didn’t answer Samantha’s question, but she already felt foolish. Admitting she had no idea what BDSM was too much for her bruised ego.

“I don’t agree.” Again, Samantha took a dangerous step closer to Rebecca. “I need someone with fresh… eyes. Someone who can be taught.”

Rebecca backed up. “Miss Pryce…”

Samantha smirked. “If you don’t have your own ideas about what to do here, Miss Cuinn, it means we’re working with a clean slate. I don’t have to justify my concepts, just explain them to you. You’re here to help me make this possible monetarily. What’s the harm in learning a little something while you’re at it?” Another step. “It could be the fun you’ve been missing out on. One thing is certain, it won’t be boring.”

Rebecca prided herself on thriving during challenging situations. It was how she survived all these years with the void that was left in her soul. This was merely one more challenge.

“What did you mean by ‘equip them’?” she asked, thankful that her voice was steady given Samantha’s proximity.

“Does that mean you’ll stick around?”

Rebecca nodded. “I’m willing to help if I can.”

Samantha smiled. “I love women who are willing. Each specific room,” she continued as though she didn’t just say something that made Rebecca’s pulse spike, “will be equipped according to experience and comfort levels. For instance, this room will be black.” She opened the door and ushered Rebecca in. “Black will be our top level. Diverse types of whips, flogs, spreaders, clamps, restraints, and so on will be readily available for the dominant to do what they desire to their submissive.”

Why in the hell did Rebecca’s body respond to that? She swallowed hard, wishing she had taken the offer for that drink earlier.

“I, um, don’t think I need all of the intricate details.” Rebecca cringed inwardly at the waver in her voice.

Samantha turned her hard, brown eyes on Rebecca. “I disagree. I think the more you understand what my vision is for this place, the more… diligent you’ll be in writing that proposal. I need it to be brilliant enough to win over every investor you approach.”

“I approach? Ms. Pryce, my understanding was that I’m to write the proposal for you.”

“No,” Samantha interrupted abruptly. “I want you to work closely with me on this. You have the face and knowledge that investors, especially mine, will be extremely receptive to. And, you have the attitude and more that entices me to get to know you better.”

Perhaps it was the way Samantha said the word “more” that made Rebecca sweat. Or, perhaps it was the implication of the words “know you better.” Regardless of how she felt about the enigmatic Samantha Pryce, an opportunity like this would look incredible on Rebecca’s resumé.

“If it helps your decision,” Samantha said through Rebecca’s continued silence. “I will talk to your professor about giving you credit for this in his class. What do you say, Miss Cuinn? Are you ready to learn?”

“Yes.”