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With a deep breath, I turn back to the invitation.
“We are confident that you will find the girl of your dreams among the selection of beautiful willing maidens. The event will take place in Montana on the seventeenth of September in a private secluded area accessible byprivate jet.”
I swallow hard as I lower the paper and stare forward in shock. The auction is four months away… I wonder if the dean is actually going to go.
“We are confident that you will find the selection of innocent young women on offer to be truly breathtaking and that you will be thrilled to have the opportunity to bid on them.
“Please RSVP at your earliest convenience to secure your place at this exclusive auction. We look forward to hearing from you soon. Yours truly, Coco St. James.”
My heart is racing as I stare at the phone number discreetly printed under the unusual name and then at the six photos of girls printed at the bottom.
Willing young virgins… Where do they get these women?
They all seem to be in their early to mid twenties. All beautiful, but with a girl next door kind of look to them.
I stare at them for a long while, imagining the billionaires looking at them and wanting them to be their brides so badly they’d bid millions of dollars.
Now that would be an adventure. Marrying a billionaire and traveling around the world. Seeing the planet and meeting interesting people.
Wow…
I slip the invitation into the drawer, shake my head, and try to continue reading my book, but I quickly find that thinking about anything but that auction is impossible.
For the rest of the morning, I keep pulling it out, staring at the girls, and picturing my photo there. Would anyone bid on me?
I keep dreaming about a gorgeous man charging forward, not letting anyone outbid him for the pleasure of having me as his wife because with one look, he was obsessed.
He would whisk me off into his exciting world and I wouldn’t care about the money because I’d be falling in love with that beautiful smile and the possessive way he looks at me.
We could start a family, have children, spend the rest of our thrilling lives in one adventure after another.
I trace my tingling fingertip over the embossed phone number as Harold shuffles back into the room, holding his lunch in a brown paper bag.
“What’s for lunch, Harold?” I ask even though he’s had the same tuna on white bread, no crusts, and four Ritz crackers for the past five years.
“Tuna on white bread, no crusts, with four Ritz crackers.”
He shuffles past me without asking what I’m having.
I sigh as I stare at the number.
“Screw it,” I whisper. I dial the number and then suck in a breath. My heart races as it rings.
“The Breeding Bidders Auction House,” a woman on the other line says. “How may I help you?”
I open my mouth as I stare at the desk with wide eyes. Nothing comes out.
“Hello? How did you get this number?”
“From a friend!” I blurt out.
“And what is it concerning?”
I take a deep breath as I stare forward, wondering if I should take the plunge. If I should throw caution to the wind and turn my life upside down.
I have to make a change sometime. It’s never going to feel like it’s the right time. It’s never going to feel easy.
Sometimes in life, you have to play the cards you’re delt, but sometimes you have to flip the damn table over to shake things up.
