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“Yes.”
The thought of that kind of money is enough to mute some of my anxiety. “Then I am very certain. Yes.”
“Back to the library, then.” We make our way back through the secret passageway and to the desk I’d noticed before. Cesar says, “This is a contract, stipulating that fifteen percent of your fee will be paid to the Chamberlain Charity Auction. As you know, historical homes do not preserve themselves.”
Callie points out, “This is a lot of liability for just fifteen percent.”
“If she would like to donate more, she is more than welcome to.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “No, we just think about things from a legal standpoint. We’re?—"
But he shakes his head. “No identifying details, please. I don’t need your occupation, your name, none of that. Not for your first time. You’ll sign an X on the line there. It’s more of a symbol than a true contract, of course. We cannot legally come after you for the money, considering how it is gained. But given what we do and who we are, we can make life challenging for anyone who wishes to break the contract.”
I gulp. “Make life challenging? How?”
He’s a mind reader. “Nothing like physical harm, if that’s what you’re worried about, dearie. But it is easy enough to sort out who is who—the rest of the mansion has security footage of everyone, so identifying our guests is rather simple. After that, it’s just a matter of figuring out how to socially destroy someone. The wrong thing said in the right ear can make the world fall down around them. Promotions can vanish in the blink of an eye. Things of that nature.”
Callie asks, “How often have you had to enforce that part of things?”
“Not even once, and I am grateful for it. I prefer to keep things as friendly as possible.”
My hand shakes when I pick up the pen. Symbolic or not, it feels meaningful. My X comes out like two lightning bolts crossing. “Is that clear enough for your purposes?”
He bends down behind the desk and produces a bottle of champagne and three flutes. As he pours, he says, “Every first timer’s is just as scribbled. It’s perfectly fine.” Then he passes us some champagne. “To Hell. May the way there be as fun as the stay there.”
We giggle as we clink our flutes. After a sip, I ask, “So what do you get out of all of this?”
“I find the whole thing fascinating, truth be told. To me, the only thing worth understanding is the psychology of why. Why anyone does anything. In a world where sex and money are so readily accessible, why do we still resort to this sort of arrangement? It boggles the mind, really. But the allure of trading money for sex has been with us since time immemorial. One might argue there is a primal desire to do so—that we trade the results of our effort—money—for the one thing we cannot do for ourselves—sex.” He pauses. “Well, sex with someone else, that is.”
The champagne must be going to my head, because I giggle again. Callie, too. I shrug. “I guess so.”
She says, “What was up with the names out there? It didn’t sound like real names.”
“Because they are not. They pick their own identities out there. Anonymity.”
I nod. “Makes sense. Why don’t we?”
“Numbers are easier to keep in order.”
“Can I have more champagne?”
He smiles. “Of course, dearie.” After filling my flute, he asks, “Without details, can you explain why you are interested in this exchange?”
“The money.”
“Not the sex?”
Another giggle pops out of me. “I mean, it could be great or it could be terrible or anything in between, I guess. But the idea of spending one night and making the kind of money that’s being thrown around here … that’s the draw for me. Is it sex for the other women?”
“Sometimes. Anonymous sex has its own appeal, and the money is a fun bonus for them.”
“Am I supposed to call myself Six to my bidder? Like, will he moan, oh, Six, in my ear?”
He laughs. “That is the first time I’ve been asked that in such a way. You are welcome to call yourself whatever you like, or even let him pick a name for you. But we advise you not to give your real name for obvious reasons.”
Callie wonders aloud, “How did the auctioneer know who was bidding what? I didn’t see paddles or hear anything.”
“It is done through text on burner phones the bidders are given when they walk in.” He looks at his phone. “Speaking of, it’s time for number six to go on stage. Ready?”
