Best of 2017 - Page 165

I recognise the tick boxes on the form. I’ve seen them listed under the girls’ photographs in Mr Henley’s beside drawer.

I remember Cindy’s words. He keeps the ones with fewer ticks, just so you know.

I hand the form back untouched. He looks at me like I’m a total idiot.

“No, sweetheart, you have to fill those in. Check the ones you definitely won’t do. Err on the side of caution.”

“I have,” I tell him.

He laughs. “Amy, sweetheart, if there’s any terms you don’t understand you have to ask. Believe me, you’ll want to know what you’re signing up for.”

I shake my head. “I understand them all, and I’m done. I don’t want to tick any boxes, thank you.”

His expression is strange, a weird mixture of bemused and excited, his eyes glinting in the glow of his banker’s lamp.

“Miss Randall, I’m going to be frank here, my clients have extreme tastes, some of these men will be looking for these services, and they’ll expect you to deliver.”

I tip my head. “Will any of your clients kill me, Mr Finch? That’s all I really need to know.”

He scoffs at me. “Good God, no. What kind of agency do you take this for? If you’ve got some kind of fucked up suicide wish, this really isn’t the place.”

I laugh, because this is crazy. This whole thing is insane. “No,” I tell him. “I mean if I’m walking out of there alive, then I’m good. I don’t care what else they want to… pay me for…”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re willing to say that in your introduction video? That you’re hard-limit free?”

I nod. “Sure, if that’s what you… want me to do.”

He’s really excited now, and I know it, trying to hide his grin under a steely nonchalance, but it’s too obvious. He’s practically slavering.

“Well then, Miss Randall.” He points to a chaise longue at the back of the office. “You’d better make yourself comfortable.”

CLAUDE FLICKS on a table lamp at the side of me and I sit in the glow, perched awkwardly on the edge of his chaise longue while he fumbles around with the settings on his camera. I’m still not really sure what he wants from me, and it’s all I can do to breathe, in and out, holding onto the single little thread of composure keeping me from freaking out.

“Take your jacket off, please.”

I shrug it from my shoulders and he takes it from me. He hangs it on a coat stand.

“And your dress.” My eyes must look like saucers, because he shakes his head. “No need for shyness, Amy, believe me, the real experience will be considerably more intimate.”

I have to stand to shimmy my dress up and over my head, and I’m glad I chose my very best underwear. I’m in pink lace, a cheap but pretty set I bought from the discount store on our estate. The bra is slightly too small, but I guess that’s ok, because Claude’s staring at the spill of flesh over the top of the cups, and he looks pleased as Punch.

“I need you to be yourself,” he tells me, and I nearly laugh out loud. Like anyone could be themselves in this place, bared in skimpy underwear while some random old guy pulls out a video camera. “Just relax, we have time to do a few takes if necessary.”

He pulls up a stool real close, his camera in his hand as he angles it for a decent view.

“We really need to do this?” I ask, although I’m sure it’s a pointless question.

“It’s imperative we offer video for our auctions. It makes our buyers more invested.”

I wonder if he jerks himself off to them afterwards, then force the idea away.

“Lay back,” he tells me, “make yourself comfortable.”

I do as he asks, leaning back on my elbows. I flinch as he lands a hand on my knee, taking a breath as he eases my legs open.

“That’s good,” he says. “I’ll be doing this as an interview, so answer honestly, and do exactly what I ask.”

I nod, and he clears his throat.

“Our auction lot four of the evening is Amy, a rare specimen indeed. Amy, tell our bidders of your sexual history.”

My voice is so quiet. “I’m a… I’m a um… a virgin…”

I stare up at the camera, and the light is on me, it obscures Claude’s face, and I’m glad. I close my eyes, and in that moment I forget I’m here, in this place with a man who plans to sell me like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I pretend I’m in front of Mr Henley, imagine him watching this video later, imagine him bidding on me.

I take a breath.

“And you’re twenty-one?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Tell me, Amy, what are your hard limits?”

This is my moment, and I know it. I imagine Mr Henley’s stern expression, the way he’ll be watching this video, the way he’ll be wondering if I’m worth bidding on.

“None,” I tell the camera, and I make sure I’m looking right at it. “I have no hard limits. I’ll do… anything…”

“No hard limits, you’re sure about this?”

I force a smile and nod and in my head I’m looking at Mr Henley as he stares down on me like he did when I barged into his meeting room. “I’m sure.”

Claude’s voice grows softer, and my skin prickles, my breath evening out.

“One of our fine bidders is going to win you, Amy, is that what you want? You want one of our fine gentleman purveyors to take your virginity?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to fulfil their every fantasy, yes?”

I picture Alexander Henley’s hands around my throat. How it will feel. “Yes.”

“Are you a dirty girl, Amy? Show our buyers what a dirty girl you are. Show them what feels good.”

Panic. I feel it snaking around my belly. But there’s something else, something that makes me feel so… hot.

Him.

Claude’s voice sounds so far away. “Let our buyers see you, Amy. Take off that pretty little bra.”

My fingers just do it. They fumble with the catch at the back and let the bra fall loose. My tits aren’t really that impressive, so I push them together to make them look bigger, and my nipples are hard as I thumb them.

“Has a man ever touched those sweet tits, Amy?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“How about your tight little pussy? Have you ever had a man touch you there?”

I shake my head again. “No.”

I know what he’s going to say before he says it, so I take a breath and spread my legs for the camera, knowing full well he’s going to be focusing in on my little lace knickers.

I shaved. Everywhere.

I’m so glad I did.

“That’s good,” Claude tells me and I wonder if he’s hard. “

Show me how you touch yourself.”

Me. Show me.

It’s not him I think about as I slip my hand between my legs, rubbing my clit through the lace of my knickers. I shift my hips and my thighs fall open, my heart pounding as I focus on how much I want this. How much I want Alexander Henley to see me like this.

I imagine myself in his bed, the scent of him on his sheets, the way I came over and over as I thought of his body against mine.

I can do this.

I close my eyes, and I’m with him. His dark eyes so stern and his jaw so tense as he tells me what he wants from me. What he needs from me.

I tip my head back and my fingers move faster, circling my clit in quick little motions, my back arching as I bring my knees up.

“Take them off,” Claude tells me, and his voice is croaky.

I hook my fingers into my knickers and wriggle them down, letting them slide from my feet. They catch on my sparkly heels for just a second before they drop to the floor.

“Very nice,” Claude says. “Show me.”

My fingers spread my pussy lips, and I hope I’ve got it right. He moves the camera closer, and I guess I’m doing ok.

“Wider please,” he says, and in my mind it’s Alexander Henley doing the ordering.

I hitch my thighs wider still and I pull my lips apart so hard it hurts.

The camera moves so close between my legs, “Nice,” he says, “clench for me, Amy.”

My pussy pulses with heat at his words and I clench for him.

I hear him swallow. Hear him licking his lips. My God.

“Beautiful,” he says, pulling the camera away and focusing on my face.

My legs are shaky and my breaths come out shallow, but I keep Mr Henley’s image close in my mind.

“The man who will take your virginity, Amy, tell me what else you would like him to do to you. Tell me what turns you on, Amy.”

I know exactly what I need to do. “This,” I say and let go of my tingling pussy, trailing my hands up my stomach and over my tits, and then I wrap my fingers around my throat and squeeze just a little, pretending its him, pretending it’s him watching me right now, and it works, my clit is fluttery and the muscles in my belly are tight.

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