After washing my hands, I run and grab the phone.
“Hello?” I ask.
It’s Sheila again.
“Finally, I was just about to hang up,” she complains.
“Sorry, I was in the bathroom,” I apologize.
I hold the phone to my ear, then sit back at the computer to finish my job search.
“So, I was just calling to tell you that I found an auction for you. Do you have a pen so I can give you the address to the club where it’s going to be?” she asks.
My mouth hangs open in shock. I was not prepared for this conversation.
“Honestly, I don’t think I can do something like this. I’m just not ready,” I confess to her.
I’m honestly not prepared, and I don’t know if I ever will be able to do something like that.
Sheila snorts over the phone.
“It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to go all the way. These auctions are designed for the ladies’ choice, so you can auction off anything you want, even just a date,” she explains calmly.
This makes me feel better. Sheila sounds very knowledgeable about the whole thing, and as my friend, I know that she would never lie to me.
Sheila rambles on.
“I will admit something to you though; it can be very freeing to lose your virginity, especially to an older, experienced man who knows what he’s doing. I never thought it would be so great, until I tried it.”
She dissolves into a fit of giggles. Her boldness doesn’t surprise me. She’s always been a little more adventurous than I am.
I laugh with her and tell her, “I can’t imagine what that would be like and can’t believe we are even talking about it.”
Sheila clears her throat.
“Well, I thought you should know that the auctions are happening tonight. If you want to make your money, then you better hurry up and get to the club because tonight is your only chance.”
“Tonight?” I ask, shocked. “But it’s St. Patrick’s Day!”
It’s not like I had any plans, anyway, being as broke as I am. But suddenly, I feel incredibly pressured into doing this.
“Yes, tonight,” Sheila repeats. “It’s a St. Patrick’s Day auction. That’s the whole point.”
Well, far be it for me to not know that some people celebrate St. Patrick’s Day by buying virgins at a secret club.
I sigh and close my internet browser. That job search was a complete waste of time.
And I can’t help but remember how badly I still need money.
“Okay, fine, what should I wear then?” I ask her, with a sigh.
I really don’t feel like doing this, but I have to.
“That’s the spirit!” Sheila cheers over the phone, with a laugh.
I don’t join in on her enthusiasm.
After a second Sheila, tells me, “you definitely want to wear something sexy like a black dress, but with easy access, because sometimes things get a bit wild and freaky in these clubs.”
I’m upstairs going through my clothes. Her words make me pause in concern.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, a little worried.
“Nothing, it’s not important,” she replies in a dismissive tone. “Now hurry up and get a move on.”
She really does like to be bossy sometimes.
“I am, don’t rush me,” I complain back at her, and we both laugh.
“Good luck. I really think you’re going to like it. Call me later and tell me how it goes,” she says, then hangs up so I can get ready.
I put the phone down and pull out the only sexy black dress I own.
As I’m getting ready, my mind starts racing to different thoughts. I think about what Sheila said, and start to wonder what kind of club this is. I picture men and women paying money to make out. The thought gets me a little wet.
Even though I’m a virgin, I dated a couple of times, and I have thought briefly in the past about what my first time would be like. I tell myself that I’m only doing this for the money, but there’s a little part of me that’s curious about what all could happen tonight.
Once I arrive at the club later, I’m shown inside. A woman immediately approaches me and asks, “Melissa?”
I’m a little nervous, so I reply “yes?” in a shaky voice.
I clear my throat softly. She introduces herself as Scarlett. I remember her from our phone conversation.
“I was worried that you weren’t going to show up. You’re going to be next on stage,” she explains.
She checks her notes on the notepad that she holds in her hands. I start to feel nervous and panicky again.
I look towards the stage and am shocked to see a woman up there who is being undressed while a man is running his hand over her body. Sheila wasn’t kidding about these things getting crazy.
Scarlett is talking to someone about me going next. Out of curiosity, I look out at the audience and see another man, in the front row, who looks gorgeous. The guy on stage is talking to him, but he’s shrugging and not paying attention to what he’s saying. I can’t stop staring at him.