I stumble with my first step.
And he sits up straight, looking right at me.
What was going to be a simple transaction, a business deal, suddenly becomes far more complicated. Now, there’s someone I want.
And it’ll be agony if he doesn’t want me in return.
I hear one of the organizers from behind the curtain urge me forward and I slide my left foot into a step, then my right over and over until I’m at center stage, under bright lights, listening to the drone of lusty men with money to burn.
“We’ll open the bidding again for lot number 11 at $150,000.” The auctioneer’s words sound like ping-pong balls bouncing around inside my head.
I’m looking at Daniel, but he’s stone faced, staring into the distance. My heart sinks.
From the other side of the room comes a bid from a guy who has spent way too much time in a spray tan booth. “180,” he says.
My heart plummets from my chest down to my toes like a plunging elevator. My feet go cold.
Another bid from the other side of the room, a world away from Daniel. I can’t even bring myself to look.
“200,” I hear the new bidder yell.
More bidding, but I don’t want to hear. I’m staring at Daniel, but he won’t meet my eyes.
He takes out his phone, starts flicking through like he’s reading last night’s football scores. Bored, disinterested.
And I feel like the stupidest girl in the world.
What am I doing here? What was I even thinking?
I swallow hard, feeling a blush creep up hot in my cheeks. Betraying me. Please, I plead with him silently. Please.
The creeping realization that I will soon let one of these strangers put their dick inside me has bile stinging the back of my throat.
Maybe if I puked on stage right now, they would all retract their bids and I could get out of this putrid mess of a situation I’ve put myself in.
I throw one more Hail Mary look toward Daniel.
He clears his throat and praise the Lord, his gaze locks on mine. Then he gives me just a hint of a smile. A millisecond, no more.
He pockets his phone, raises his hand and says, “Three hundred.”
Gasps and laughs come from everywhere, including me. I tug my lips tight, make sure my knees are locked. The possibility I might pass out is very real.
The gasps and laughter turn to silence across the room. Ten girls have been sold so far, and none of them for even close to that much.
But either the competition or the blush now covering my neck and cleavage starts a sort of feeding frenzy.
“Three ten,” from the back corner.
“Three twenty,” from far on the right.
I don’t take my eyes off Daniel. Not for one a single second.
He meets my gaze again and time slows. One heartbeat. Two. And then he cracks his neck side to side.
He stands up, turning to the rest of the room, his chest full, jaw hard then he announces, “Five-hundred thousand. And if any of you motherfuckers place another bid, you better have your fucking affairs in order because I’m going to beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”
The energy of the room pulses.
Heavy and tense.
Thick and sweet.
Nobody says a word. Nobody moves a muscle.
I hear the going once, going twice as I hold my breath.
“Sold,” the auctioneer's voice finally cracks the silence with a quick and definitive clack of the gavel. “For half a million dollars even.”
I barely remember leaving the stage, my insides twisting, my skin crackling with electricity.
It’s a blur as the last girl goes up on the block, bids are made, raised, and the next thing I know, the auction organizers gather us up, taking us to designated rooms in the mansion where we’re to wait for our buyer to come claim us.
The organizer assigned to me is a gorgeous lady in her mid-forties. She’s in a skin-tight leopard-skin dress, with a white streak that would make Stacy Whatshername weep. Just so beautiful. But to call her a cougar would be too much. A kitten-cougar, maybe.
“…and then from there to the meet and greet, you’ll get to know each other a bit, then cocktails and the dance, and then…” she’s laying out the itinerary but I’m hardly listening, “…upstairs.”
I release a slow, even breath, trying to center myself. So much in a single word.
Upstairs.
I was nervous even before he started bidding. But now, I’m all frantic butterflies and raw nerves and vibrating excitement. It’s almost too much and the room starts to spin.
“Have you done this before?” I ask her as she leads me down a long, low-lit hallway with rich woods and deep-green carpet.
“Yes, I participated before I started helping,” she answers, smiling back at me. “Years ago. Worked out beautifully.” She raises her left hand and wiggles her fingers, making a huge diamond glint in the light. “Met my husband this way, if you can believe it.”