Highest Bidder

Ella pressed on, “It does regardless, because you will always remember it.”

“Then so be it,” I said. “I’ll also remember that it gave me enough to settle our most immediate debts and make life a little easier for my mom, at least for a little while. Maybe it will buy enough time for me to finish my education and get a proper job. That’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Stop worrying,” I said. “It’s just a one-time thing. Beggars can’t be choosers. I'll suffer through it and move on with my life. Plus, I think I’ve gone beyond the childish idea of keeping my hymen intact for someone special. Who really cares? It’s not at all important in the big scheme of things. There are children dying of starvation in the world.”

“I know there are children starving, but that doesn’t mean you can’t designate certain values to yourself and keep them special.”

“Let me tell you, Ella, the only thing that would be more painful than watching my mom being humiliated in her own store will be knowing I could have done something to help her and didn’t because I thought my virginity was more precious than her wellbeing. She took care of me all those years, Ella. And now it’s my turn to do something for her.”

“Alright,” she conceded. “If it helps, I would have done the same thing.”

“Thank you, Ella,” I said, my voice choking.

“Remember our motto. This too shall pass.”

“It shall.” I smiled. “My only hope is that it's worth it. You said I should get at least thirty thousand, right?”

“Well, that’s what my friend said, but if things do go wrong, or the money is not worth it, just get out of there. I’ll be coming with you anyway, so I’ll handle it.”

“I don’t think I can get out that easily. The guy who called made it a point to ask me if I would be okay with signing an NDA.”

“If they don’t let you go, then I’ll call the police or … something.”

I sighed. “I am not an ex-beauty queen, Ella. Even if I go for fifteen thousand pounds, I’ll take it.”

Freya

At 10:56pm, on the third Saturday in December, Ella accompanied me to the club, dressed all in black in her role of my bodyguard. Her no-nonsense military boots, baggy outfit, and sinister visage promising to do damage to anyone who manhandled me ? beyond what they would pay for ? had been exactly the comic relief I’d needed to get my legs working and out of the house.

The Blue Butterfly club was so well hidden in an obscure street in the city that we had to go into a dingy umbrella shop to inquire about the address I had been given. An Oriental woman smiled sweetly at me and said we were indeed already in the club. She pointed at a black door that led to the back, but told us only I could go on through to the club, though.

Ella immediately dragged me out of the shop onto the sidewalk. “I really don’t like this cloak and dagger stuff. Are they a club, or an umbrella shop? I mean, why is it hidden at the back of an umbrella shop? Heck, I’m beginning to think there is something very fishy about it all. I don’t even know if this is legal.”

“It has to be if billionaires and celebrities are taking part,” I countered reasonably.

“I don’t like secretive things,” she huffed.

“I’m here now, and I’m doing it, Ella,” I insisted stubbornly.

“If you don’t text or call me in three minutes that all is well, I’m calling the police,” she fumed, before turning her face towards the surveillance camera above us and yelling, “I’m calling the police on all of you if you hurt her. I’ll be waiting right here until she comes out.” She turned back to me. “And I’m not joking either!”

“Look, you can’t wait here for hours. Just go home. I will be okay, I promise. I’ll call you if anything seems out of place,” I reassured her, then I went back inside.

The Oriental woman pressed a buzzer and the black door opened.

To my surprise, the door opened to a luxurious space with a Renaissance-style painting on the ceiling that would have rivaled any fine house in England. The walls were painted in eggshell blue and decorated with intricate white moldings. The floor was made of glistening checkered marble.

A woman wearing a long black dress was waiting for me. She smiled at me and addressed me by name. She opened one of the small locker doors and asked me to leave my cellphone in it since no photography was allowed.

I quickly sent Ella a text to say all was well and put my phone into it.

She locked it and gave me the key.

I could see two lifts. She called one and we entered it. It travelled smoothly and noiselessly downwards. It opened three floors down.

Silently, she led me down a brightly lit corridor to a room that looked like a standard hotel room. “You are not allowed to wander around the club on your own, so please do not leave this room. Someone will come shortly to prepare you for the auction,” she instructed before she left.

I thought she was going to lock me in the room, but she didn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief. Before I could even properly investigate my surroundings, there was a gentle tap on the door.

An old woman entered. Her face was deeply lined and it surprised me to think of such an old woman working in a place like this. She made a movement with her hands to indicate I should undress.