Highest Bidder

“Starting at fifteen thousand,” the auctioneer bellowed.

I dug my nails into my palms.

“I have twenty thousand!” he called out.

Hearing this, I began to breathe easier. Even if that was where it ended, it would be alright. Twenty thousand was better than returning with nothing. The relief was short-lived because I was suddenly overcome with guilt. What the hell was I doing? I had come this far and subjected myself to this humiliation, if I put more effort into it I could make more for myself and my mother. If I was already going to go through this nightmare, then why not go all the way to obtain as much as I could? I unfisted my hands slowly, so that I could attempt to do some sort of pose, or at least spin around slowly, but just then, the next increment was announced.

“I see thirty thousand,” the auctioneer called.

“Forty-thousand.”

I blinked in shock. Unlike the other girls whose value from what I had heard backstage, had skyrocketed in increments of five, and then twenty thousand, it was obvious I wasn’t putting in as much effort to invite the same kind of fortune to myself.

“Fifty thousand.”

I froze on the spot. At first, I was sure that I had heard incorrectly but then the announcer bellowed again.

“Do I hear sixty?”

This time my head shot up in shock.

“Seventy thousand pounds!” he called and my heart began to race. Was this real?

“Eighty thousand!”

I focused on steadying my breathing.

“Ninety thousand pounds! Do I hear a hundred?”

This had to be a dream. It was all going to stop any moment now.

“A hundred thousand,” the announcer called.

I wobbled on my feet ever so slightly.

Light murmurs began to break out backstage as I moved my eyes across the mirrors in the hopeless search of whomever was driving this bid.

I saw a flash of light, and the announcer bellowed. “One hundred and ten thousand.”

Another flash went up in the opposite corner of the room.

“One hundred and fifty thousand pounds,” the announcer roared, and fear gripped me.

What was going on? It couldn’t be my body? Was this person insane?

“One hundred and eighty thousand pounds!” he bellowed out.

My hand came to my mouth in shock.

A stunning silence erupted across the room, and soon the announcer began his final call.

“One hundred and eighty thousand,” he repeated. “Going once ... Going twice—”

“Two hundred thousand,” the other person flashed back.

“One million pounds!” someone roared from behind one of the mirrors. That person hadn’t even been in the running all this while. He had come from nowhere with his crazy offer.

The announcer found his voice, “Uh ... One million pounds?” When there was no take back, he went on. “Going once …” His voice sounded like a warning to which ever idiot had just blurted out that amount.

“Going twice,” he called out once more.

Silence.

“Sold to Buyer Twenty-five for one million pounds!” he crowed triumphantly.

Freya

The auctioneer’s voice was still ringing in my ears as I pulled on my negligee and got off the stage. I trembled with shock and incredulity. Was it real? Did someone actually buy me for one million pounds?

The woman I had instinctively distrusted came up to me. She was unsmiling. “Come. I will take you to your buyer.” Without waiting for my reply, she began to walk away.

Every other girl had been allowed to return to the dressing room, but I ... I was being requested immediately. Breathing normally, was now a foregone luxury.

“W-where are we going?” I finally found my voice enough to ask as I ran along to keep up with her long, almost angry strides. Why she was mad at me was beyond me.

She glanced back with a bitter smile. “Your buyer wants you now. Apparently, he can’t wait. He must have really liked you.” Her eyes ran down my nearly naked body.

I didn’t miss the puzzled raise of her brows. I didn’t blame her. Something had to have gone wrong somewhere, for somebody to be willing to pay that kind of money for one night with a virgin. Sure, virgins weren’t growing on trees and I’m incredibly and unbelievably grateful, but one million?

I spotted a man awaiting us at the end of the corridor, and my chest tightened at the sight of him in a dark suit. Was he the buyer? But he didn’t have the look of anyone important. And he looked nearly as young as me. Unless he was the heir to some conglomerate? Only heirs could waste this much money without batting an eye.

I could barely hear anything beyond the drumming of my heart in my ears when I arrived, close enough to see his face.

The woman with me, said, “Here she is.” Without another word, she turned around and left.

I turned to look at her departing back.

“Freya?” the man called, politely.

I turned. “Are you the one who bought me?” I asked, even though, I already knew it could not be him. The woman would not have dared behave in such a rude way if he was the buyer.

“No, I am not. My boss did.”

“Your boss? Who is he?”

“Freya, I am sure that you’ve been explicitly warned about asking questions beyond those that concern your safety and overall well being. Please keep to the terms of your contract.”