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This is it.
We follow her onto the stage, where she takes us into a little cubicle with a full-length mirror.
This is the last section before you go out. The stairs leading off the stage go straight into the lounge where your buyer will collect you and contracts will be signed.
There’s another lady whose name I can’t remember waiting at the end of the stage. That’s her job while Gina runs the show.
“Good luck, girls,” she says and walks out onto the stage where she announces the beginning of the Golden Decadent auction.
Girl number one is the redhead that looks like Ariel from The Little Mermaid. She is sold within five minutes for one hundred and twenty-five thousand.
It makes me worry because that wouldn’t be enough for me. I hope it was enough for her. Ten men bid on her, and she was sold to an old guy, a Russian guy who looked to be in his late sixties.
I can’t see all the men properly from here, just the men sitting at the far end.
Girls number two to eight are sold for much more. Girl eight being the highest bid at a quarter million. She was a striking dark-haired Latino beauty who owned the stage when she went out. A sign that confidence is key.
So far, no one has taken off their clothes.
Girl number nine walks out on stage and is the first to do so, knocking the thought right out of my mind.
With her massive breasts and fully rounded ass, the starting bid for her is a quarter million.
I’m not sure if her tactic is desperation or confidence. Whichever, I commend her because she got her money’s worth.
She is sold for close to half a million to a super-hot guy who has to be in his twenties.
It’s my turn. The moment I think that my name is called.
I summon confidence, bravery, and every reason I’m doing this to help me. What helps is the image of Peter’s face and the memory of how violent he was with me.
Strength comes, and I walk out onto that stage, stepping up onto the auction block like I own the place.
The little smile I get from Gina suggests she’s pleased with my entrance. Now to hopefully get what I came here for.
I’m not going to take off my clothes just yet. I’ll save that for when I might need it the most. While I have big breasts, I’m not as endowed as girl number nine, and she had a body like Marilyn Monroe.
I’m more willowy and athletic with tighter curves. I also don’t think I should follow her act in the same way.
As Gina introduces me, I scan the crowd.
When I look to my left and see Georgiou Giordano and Henry Dubois sitting in the front row, my heart summersaults in my chest, and I swear my lungs constrict so tight they might collapse.
No way could it be them.
I must be so fascinated with them that I’m imagining things. Right?
With that reasoning, I blink several times to check if my eyes are screwing with me. But they aren’t. My perfect twenty, twenty vision is just fine and who I’m looking at is exactly who they are.
And they’re looking at me too. So is every other man in this room.
They’re looking at me and assessing my body to see if I’m what they want.
Georgiou and Henry are looking at me and trying to figure out if they want to buy me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Christ.
