Beauty & The Biker

“Ahem.” He clears his throat. “Well won’t be much reading where you are going.”

“And where is that?”

He shrugs. “Wherever the highest bidder takes you.” He shuts the door leaving me alone.

Hopping up I don’t know how much time I have. I search the room for anything that may help me. A phone, a weapon, anything, but there is nothing but my chair, a trash can and a desk with locked drawers. Great.

The door opens and a heavyset woman enters the room carrying a dress and heels. She looks so motherly in her Mumu and pink lipstick. All she is missing is hair rollers and house shoes to fit the part, but I know appearances mean nothing.

“Well this won’t do,” she fusses pulling a set of keys from her pocket, ignoring me.

She opens the top drawer taking out a pair of scissors. I smile when she catches me staring.

“The boys weren’t lying; you are the prettiest I have ever seen.” She comes behind me and cuts my hands free.

I need those scissors. She lays them on the desk and I am tempted to just grab them and threaten her, but I don’t know who or what else is on the other side of the door.

“Thank you.” I rub my wrists relishing in the freedom.

“Here put this on.” She hands me a red slip of a dress and the heels to match.

“A little privacy.” I blush hoping she falls for it.

“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” She sees my frown. “Well alright I’ll give you just a minute.” She pats my shoulder and shuts the door behind her.

With no time to waste I pull my dress over my head and put on the red silk that leaves very little to the imagination. I open the drawer to the desk finding nothing but stationery. I look longingly at the scissors and wonder where in the hell I am going to hide them at.

Praying I’m not told to sit down I tape them to the crack of my butt. They aren’t very large. It’s a bit uncomfortable but if given the chance, I can use them as a weapon if needed. The door opens just as I stick the tape back in the drawer. I lay my white dress over the spot where the scissors just were, hoping she doesn’t look for them.

“All set.”

“Yup,” I pop the P. She runs her fingers through my hair fluffing it out around my shoulders.

“Good we are just getting started. Come along now.” She motions me forward.

I take an awkward step forward blaming the heels for my awkwardness.

“Pretty girl like you I doubt you’ll be wearing them for long.”

Oh God. This is really happening. My palms begin to sweat. Now is not the time for a panic attack. That’s all I need is to have an attack, and fall, stabbing myself in the rear with my stolen scissors. It would be just my luck.

Tristian has to know I'm missing by now, unless they have done something with him. No, I can’t have thoughts like this, it isn’t good for my anxiety.

A small group of men are seated around the stage. I think I am going to puke all over again.

Another door a few feet away opens and out walks Ariala. “Ari,” I whisper in her direction, but she doesn’t even notice me. Her eyes are glossy and distant. Her arms are bruised with fingerprints and her face is swollen. Did they beat her? Is this what grease ball was talking about?

More doors open and more girls walk out, all dressed like me.

One by one, we are led to the stage and lined up. They have us spaced just far enough apart that we can’t speak to one another. I need to do something, but what? If I try to make a move right now I am surrounded by Goldoni and his people. My plan is to wait until I am sold, then when I get the opportunity, I will stab whomever I need to, to get out of here.

No one speaks. Goldoni steps onto the stage and motions the first girl forward. She isn’t a bit shy and seems to be enjoying herself. She smiles boldly, pushing her chest out, showcasing her fake breasts, but I have to hand it to her, she has nice legs.

An older gentleman with more wrinkles than father time holds up two fingers. Goldoni twirls his finger for her to spin. The leggy blonde rotates slowly and winks once she has reached a full turn. I think I am going to be sick again.

Another man who is short, fat, and balding holds up three fingers. I am guessing this is how they are bidding.

I scan the room doing a check for exits and people. So far I have only spotted the way I came in as an out. There are two men other than Goldoni, grease ball and the bidders—all armed. Things keep getting better.