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Posey
The other young women at the Auction House stare at me with trepidation, out of the corner of their eyes, like they think I don't notice. When I turn and meet their gaze, they bite their lips and back away.
“You’re wearing studded, black, lace-up platform boots to a virgin auction?” a tall girl at the front of the lineup boldly questions.
I place a palm against my black corset and glance down at my favorite shoes. “I like them,” I proclaim.
“Do you always dress in black from head to toe?” someone else courageously whispers.
I lift my chin. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Do you ever smile?”
“No,” I answer simply.
“What are you going to do when you get on the stage? How will you get any of those billionaires to bid for you if you don't smile?”
I frown because she does have a point. I’ll need a killer app. I only get paid for my work tonight if I at least get the minimum bid, anything above that the auction house keeps. And we’re all here for our own million-dollar payout—the full million because the house pads the amount to compensate for taxes. I need those one million dollars I’ll receive for a variety of time-sensitive reasons.
Hmm. I continue to tap my fingers against my corset, in deep thought. I’ll dance for this crowd of mysterious men, because I need this money immediately and I’m indeed ready to give my virginity to the highest bidder. That’s not what I thought I’d be doing on a summer evening in the highlands north of Glasgow, but there you go.
There are twelve of us here tonight, gathered locally and from a variety of nearby countries. All the other young women have altruistic reasons for giving away their coveted innocence for such a high payout and allowing some stranger to possibly marry them. One girl mentions something about her mother being sick. Another wants to buy her father and younger siblings a house. Someone else wants to fund a local charity.
“Eh,” the girl next to me grouses, obviously an American too. “I only want the million dollars to pay off my damn student loans, buy a Tesla and live in a nice high rise without roommates. Why else would I be here?”
I snort and nod in understanding.
Then I stand by silently, not partaking in further conversation because I never explain my motives to others.
I’m here because I recently discovered my stepfather froze my accounts along with my credit cards, and therefore I’m temporarily without funds. The bastard. Good thing I always keep a stash of emergency cash on hand, but it will run dry within twenty-four hours and I need to pay for my cat’s medications and therapies, which are quite pricey. Along with a few other obligations.
Also, I discovered evidence proving that my stepfather, Ezra Wilson orchestrated the “accidental” death of my father, his best friend and business partner, when I was young. He eventually took over everything Gavin Bamburgh ever had, including my beautiful mother. This rude awakening left my life in turmoil. I’m broke and on the run because Ezra is looking for me. But that asshole is not getting away with his lies for one minute longer. Accountability is about to bite him in the ass.
I learned of this million-dollar virgin auction payout through a group chat at my college campus and managed to sneak my way into tonight’s show at the last minute. This is perfect because I need somewhere to hide and emergency money to fund my plans for retribution, revenge and security for others.
Coco St. James, the tall, blonde, business-minded organizer of this lavish secret auction, studies me with sharp blue eyes. A frown mars her perfect features. I don’t think I can get one over on her, but this evening I happen to not be lying. I really am a virgin and I plan on following through with my commitments. Iwillhave sex with a stranger tonight, allow him to place his hands on me and enter my body. I’ll even fake the tiniest of orgasms for him. And if he requests marriage and takes me far away to his mansion in the hinterlands, all the better.
My fingers tug at the ribbons of my corset. I could end up with someone my grandfather’s age, or one who tries any number of abusive, nonconsensual moves against me. But I can take care of myself, and the risk/reward ratio is acceptable. My goal for tonight is to create my own version of a DIY witness protection program, with an extremely high payout. And of course, tend to my cat.
What do I care about that first time having sex anyway?
I’m twenty-four years old, ready to graduate with my master’s and I’ve never really had a boyfriend. I’ve been asked out many times for dates and I still don’t understand why. I never talk much with other guys my age. They’re all boys. I don’t smile at them. I don’t flirt. I don’t even know what that is or how to do that. I’ve remained a virgin due to general disinterest. No one has come along that makes me want to change that status, so I might as well give it away for money and security. Right?
Sounds smart to me.
A simple business transaction.
Demon would risk her life for me and therefore I need to do everything in my power to keep her safe, too. Also, mom needs me to save her from the clutches of her murderous husband. My mind flashes to my roommate and other student colleagues on campus who await my help.
I’m on it.
The other young women, dressed in traditional, skimpy lingerie, laugh and hug each other, teetering on impossibly high heels while we wait in line to go onstage for the auction, chatting amongst themselves. I stand alone, separate from the crowd, and glance out from behind the curtain, but I can’t see much. Mysterious men mill about in the crowd, but the lighting is low. The music is thumping and I can’t make out conversations. I have no idea about their general age, or how they acquired their fortunes. This is the only problem with my plan, I haven’t been able to figure out who the clientele are, which means I’m unable to decide upon a target. Damn Coco, she keeps her security locked up tight. I don’t have a heads-up on exactly what I’m getting into.
My best mark would be a billionaire who is easily swayed. A human, non-shifter that I can boss around would be perfect. I don’t plan on doing anything mean or harmful to this man. I will honor my contract and follow the rules. I want a man who will marry me, thereby providing me with an assumed name and a hideaway for a few months. And I’ll use the million-dollar payout to fund my war against my stepfather.
In exchange this man will temporarily have me in his house and his bed. It’s a good deal. When I retrieve my own fortune and decimate my enemy, I’ll leave this billionaire behind and return to my old life. And in the divorce settlement I might even consider giving him back his money—his initial investment—as a goodwill gesture.
