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“Didn’t I? Be sensible, ma chère, you must have realized someone was paying for the limos and hotel rooms and toys. And you won’t turn shy on me now, will you? Why, this will be nothing after the naughty things you’ve done with strange men…”
That’s different! Chelsea longed to scream. He wasn’t really a stranger! We have something special! Instead she prepared to tell her professor something much cruder and more hostile—a profane insult that she’d never forget.
Then she saw him.
Surreptitiously he had moved through the circle of people to stand directly in the line of her gaze. He was about six feet tall, with that lush, chestnut wavy hair, and he was beautiful. Just beautiful. The face she had tried to imagine for weeks was the very picture of masculine perfection, with high cheekbones, a classical nose and that full, sensual mouth that had kissed her so feverishly. Yet it was his eyes that held her now, his dark, smoldering eyes that promised the granting of her every wish even as they silently instructed her to play along with her professor’s kinky game.
She struggled not to cry with relief as he gave her a slight nod. It gave her the courage she needed.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Fine,” she said defiantly, as if allowing her body to be raffled off as a prize wasn’t really so bad. She looked into Professor Deveaux’s predatory eyes and arched her eyebrows as if daring her to do her worst.
A brilliant smile unfurled across her professor’s face. “Lovely.” She turned away. “Everyone! You’ve all had a chance to see the luscious lottery prize for our Valentine’s Ball. Those of you who would like to buy a ticket, please see Carl over there.”
Tickets? This was so demeaning. As Professor Deveaux went on in her instructions for the Ball, Chelsea stole another glance at her Muse. Oh God, he was breathtaking. Not in her wildest dreams had she imagined he could look that good. For the first time she understood the clichéd expression, the eyes are the windows to the soul; for the love and protective tenderness she was certain she had seen in those eyes on their nights together was now etched across his gorgeous face. He was not a crass swinger like the men hungrily eyeing her displayed body, he was a good-hearted man. She was sure of it. What he was doing here, she had no idea, but then she had come here too. She’d save the judgments until she met him.
From somewhere a seductive music began. Chelsea was relieved as the guests began to mingle with each other, drinking, eating and talking as they had at the first party she’d glimpsed in January. Unfortunately, many of the men were forming a smaller circle around her. Professor Deveaux scowled at them.
“You know the rules, mes amis,” she snapped. “Buy your ticket from Carl. No freebies.”
“We’re just saying hi,” one retorted. “She’s a member now, we can be friendly.” He gave Chelsea a leering wink. “Hey, babe. I just wanted to tell you that you are the most gorgeous Muse they’ve found in a while.”
What? She wasn’t a Muse, she was a member. She glared at Professor Deveaux at the woman’s betrayal but another figure stepped between them. Jonathan Danvers.
“Remember me?” he said with his own cheesy wink. As she took in his receding hairline and wine-flushed face, she couldn’t believe this man had ever been her fantasy. The photo on his book jacket was definitely misleading. “You can be sure I’m buying multiple lottery tickets to get my hands on you tonight. Bet you wouldn’t mind a couple of hours with your favorite author, wouldja?”
Gag me, Chelsea thought, concentrating all of the hostility she could into her eyes.
“Jonathan, don’t touch!” Professor Deveaux scolded. “All of you, step back! If you don’t have your chance tonight, you’ll have your chance later. Stop crowding her.”
If you don’t have your chance tonight, you’ll have your chance later? What the hell did that mean? Was she honestly expected to sleep with any guy in the Society who asked her? Oh, she had been so dumb. So dumb, dumb, dumb. She sought out the gaze of her Muse for reassurance. He looked worried but gave her another nod. Somehow that was enough to calm her. She trusted this nameless young man who’d captured her heart. It was preposterous, but she trusted him completely.
Long minutes ticked by as the Society members mingled around the room. As before, the servers carrying trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres were naked. Chelsea was relieved to no longer be the only naked girl in the room. One of the servers was a girl from her Philosophy class, which startled her. Studying them closely, she realized the essential divide at the Ball. Most of the younger guests seemed to be working, serving drinks, giving foot massages and acting as sexual eye candy. The older guests, on the other hand, were fully clothed, enjoying themselves fully and selecting their Muses as if considering dinner entrees. Now she understood completely. Those students who couldn’t pay their dues worked it off, probably with the same pathetic literary hopes she had. That was how the Society worked. It procured the pretty young members for the benefit of the older, lascivious members.
Nikki was right, Chelsea thought in despair. This really was just a cheap sex club dressed up in fancy names. There might be famous people here, but they’ll never help her get published.
The back of her neck prickled, as if someone was staring at her. She turned to see Jeff. He too was naked and wearing a black leather collar, much like the one she had recently disca
rded.
They stared at each other as a riot of emotions churned inside her—humiliation, shock and concern for his welfare. Did Jeff realize they were simply being used as free sexual entertainment? Or was he so excited to be Professor Deveaux’s boy toy that he willingly served as a naked waiter? The uncertainty in his eyes spoke of the former, but his rock-hard erection as he stared at her body indicated the latter.
“Ma chère, it is almost auction time. Many people have bought tickets. You should be proud of the money you have brought in.” Professor Deveaux steered her toward a platform by the fireplace.
Screw you! Chelsea burned to tell her. Instead she followed her obediently to the platform and climbed the adjoining stairs. Now that she was elevated above the crowd, she felt even more excruciatingly naked. Knowing that she was about to be handed off as a lottery prize was even more degrading. The winner could be any man in this room and she would be expected to sleep with him—no matter how physically loathsome he was. For the first time, she truly understood the risks she had taken in submitting to all of her previous tests. She had been lucky enough to wind up with her Muse, yet Professor Deveaux could have sent anyone to test her. Then again, Professor Deveaux had probably been smart enough to send an appealingly sexy Muse to entice her into joining this vulgar club.
Chelsea pressed her legs together, shielding her sex from the voracious eyes staring up at her. Unable to stop herself, she snuck another look at her Muse. He was no longer there. Cold panic crawled down her spine. What if he had left? What if she had misread his signals and he expected her to call a halt already to the whole mad affair?
“Friends, colleagues… As erotic artists, we are now ready to truly celebrate the physical meaning of Valentine’s Day.”
It was all she could do not to roll her eyes at her professor’s pretentious tone. These people might consider themselves erotic artists, but as far as she was concerned, they were middle-aged swingers, nothing more. She cast another desperate glance for her Muse. Where was he?
Professor Deveaux concluded her speech, then made a lofty introduction about the lottery. Chelsea thought if she had to stand up there like a piece of meat for one more minute she would scream. At last, the winning ticket was drawn. Chelsea forced a look of composure onto her face as she waited to hear her Muse’s name called. Surely he had fixed the competition, right? Wasn’t that what his reassuring nods had meant?
“…Jonathan Danvers.”
“Yee-ha!” shouted Jonathan Danvers from the back of the room. “I bought enough goddamn tickets, damn right I should win!”
He stumbled through the crowd, clearly drunk. Chelsea shuddered as he grasped her bare foot and licked it. “Come on,” he demanded, slurring his words. “I’m gonna make you sweat, little girl.”
