“I’m not much on redheads,” I said. A waiter came by carrying a tray of champagne and I grabbed a glass. As I was tipping the glass to my lips, I saw a gorgeous blonde across the room, doing her best to act sexy even though she was clearly uncomfortable standing naked on a podium in a roomful of men. I watched her for a moment. She was nervous, with a look of near panic in her eyes. Several men were ogling her. She did her best to smile, though clearly, she was self-conscious. She kept covering her perfect breasts with her arms, then dropped them the moment she realized what she was doing. I supposed that she had been instructed on how to stand and smile and talk to the men. I couldn’t explain why, but I felt the sudden need to go to her, to protect her, to reassure her that by Monday she could put this all behind her and buy a small house with her cut of the proceeds.
“That’s Bethany’s friend,” Tony said, leaning in to bump me with his arm. “You remember Bethany from the club?”
“I’d probably recognize the top of her head,” I said without taking my eyes off the blonde.
“No, not the chick with the gap,” he said, making a sour face. “The waitress, Bethany. Dark hair, big tits, likes it in the ass?”
I had no idea who the fuck he was talking about, but I nodded anyway and sipped the champagne and stared at her eyes, waiting to see if she was going to look back at me. She didn’t. She was doing her best to smile and chat with the men around her. I’d never seen a beautiful woman look so uncomfortable, of course, she was practically naked standing on a podium in front of a roomful of lustful strangers who would soon be bidding on the right to shove their fat, smelly cock into her tight pussy and decimate her virginity.
I wondered if she’d ever done anything sexually before. Tony, my expert, explained that Certified Virgin meant that the girl’s hymen was intact, not that she had never had a cock in her hands, mouth, or ass. He told me it wasn’t unusual for girls these days to have anal sex and suck cock every night of the week and still call themselves a virgin. I just shook my head. I only slept with mature women that were as experienced and adventurous as I was. I probably wouldn’t know what to do with a virgin, but then again, it could be fun to find out.
“She’s beautiful,” I said quietly.
I dug the brochure from inside my jacket and opened it up. I found her photo and bio on the fourth page. The photo was a standard modeling headshot. She was gazing into the camera with a slight tilt to her head, as if she were too shy to have her picture taken but excited that she was.
Her long blonde hair was draped over one bare shoulder. Her blue eyes narrowed a little when she smiled. She had high cheekbones and lips that were perfectly full and utterly kissable.
Her expression was both hesitant and seductive, like a Pandora’s Box waiting to be opened so its secrets, good and bad, could spill out.
I ignored Tony for a moment and silently read her bio.
Katrina Anne Donovan
21 years old, 5’8, 125 lbs. Natural blonde, blue eyes, fair complexion, Irish descent. Occupation: Waitress, college student working toward a degree in medicine. Likes: Romantic movies, walks in the park, cuddling by a fire, the New York Jets. Dislikes: Arrogant men, stupid people, the New York Giants. Citizenship: US citizen, New York residency.
Certified Virgin.
I smiled at her comments. If she hated arrogant men and stupid people, she was in the wrong place. I tucked the brochure back into my jacket and watched her as I finished the glass of champagne. She was putting forth an effort to be cordial, but I could tell it was hard for her. She had probably been told that the friendlier she was to the
men beforehand, the higher the bids for her would be at action time. The other girls were laughing and joking and striking seductive poses. One of them, a petite brunette with enormous tits and a thick Jersey accent, was spreading her thighs and holding back her pubes with her fingertips to give patrons a closer look at the pussy they would be bidding on.
Katrina Donovan, on the other hand, was standing with her legs pressed tightly together and her hands balled into fists at her sides. It was easy to tell that she would have rather been anywhere but where she was at that moment.
“She is a bit of a tight ass, but a total fucking babe,” Tony said with a smirk, obviously humored by my interest in the what he called “the primo merchandise”. “She probably has a pussy so tight it’ll rub the skin right off your dick.”
“You’re such a romantic, Tony,” I said, cutting my eyes at him.
“Fuck romance.” He bumped me with his elbow again. I was going to be battered and bruised before the night was over if he kept that up. He nudged me and growled in my ear. “Go on over and talk to her.”
“I will,” I said, bumping him back. “Give me a minute.” It was a little ridiculous, my hesitation to approach her. I had been with more women than I could count and had never had a problem approaching a woman before. But as I watched Katrina Donovan nervously covering her blonde bush with her crossed hands and forcing a smile for the men surrounding her, I felt like a nerdy high schooler mustering the courage to ask the most beautiful girl in school to dance.
A waiter came by and I plucked two glasses of champagne from the tray. Giving Tony a pensive look, I took a deep breath and said, “Wish me luck.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it, motherfucker,” he called from behind. “It’s all about the money!”
CHAPTER SEVEN: Katrina
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
And how the hell could I get myself out of it?
Those were the only thoughts that kept running through my mind as I stood on the little podium practically naked in front of the roomful of men who were ogling me like… like… well, I don’t know what!
To say that I felt like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher store window would have been an understatement. I felt totally exposed, completely vulnerable, utterly defenseless, and sadly alone as I stood up there wearing nothing but a transparent nightie and a pair of four-inch stiletto heels that I could barely walk in.
Honestly, I was horrified and a little turned on at the same time. It was not lost on me that this was very much like the dream I’d had, only the men gawking at me now were wearing expensive suits with tall drinks in their hands rather than huge cocks. It was almost comical the way they tried to make small talk like we were at a cocktail party discussing the weather or current events, all while they eyed my tits and bush, and gave me lusty looks that made me want to puke.
“So, sweet cheeks,” a short, round man with gray hair and bushy eyebrows said, giving me a toothy smile that made my skin crawl. “What will you do with the money you make here tonight?” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “And don’t give me that old shtick about your mom dying of cancer or you’re about to lose the family home. What are you really gonna do with it? Shopping spree? New car? Trip to Europe?”