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But it wasn’t easy being chosen as part of this virgin auction. Lots of girls want to enter this secret auction because the payout is so damn high. Word gets out but not many are chosen. I had to subject myself to a doctor exam to make sure I was actually a virgin and perfectly healthy. It was a lengthy process but totally worth it.
Coco St. James examines each of us, her icy blue gaze and steely jaw taking in everything, leaving nothing to chance. I’m almost naked, wearing black lacy lingerie that barely covers my nipples and my crotch. She stops in front of me. Her eyes drop then return to my face. “You’re going out last.”
“Last? Why?” I blink, wondering if that’s a bad thing.
But Coco brushes past with the swish of her severe blond bob, totally ignoring my question.
Win elbows me. “Why do you think?” she quips.
“Because you’re the one with the most buzz,” another girl grumbles.
“I am? Since when?”
“Charlotte, you look like an angel,” Win tries to explain.
“What? No, I don’t.”
“You’ve got big blue eyes, long blonde hair, curves to die for and you just look…innocent.”
“But I’m dressed all in black.”
“The dichotomy between your outfit and the innocence will drive them crazy,” St. James remarks as she returns and directs us into our correct line-up. “We’ll save you for the grand finale.”
And then it starts. We all go out in one long line-up for a minute so the males can have a quick preview, then we’re hustled back behind the curtain again.
The first girl goes out and her bid goes to 1.25 million. There’s lots of clapping. We all give her lots of hugs when she returns. Someone pops a cork and champagne is passed around and I might take a few too many sips. The thump of the house music is putting a bounce in my step.
The next girl gets a high bid of two million. “And this time there will be a wedding,” St. James announces from the stage.
“What?” I peek past a curtain and see the couple guided to the back of the audience, where there’s an arch of white flowers and underneath is a man in a suit who looks like a minister.
“I can’t believe people are getting married on the spot.”
Win shrugs. “It’s in the contract.”
“You don’t mind the idea of possibly marrying some guy you don’t know?”
“Eh,” she smiles, as always, a font of optimism, “if he was willing to pay a million dollars for me, then I assume he’s serious.”
Win and I stand and eagerly watch as all the other girls go before us. St. James appears out of the shadows. “It’s your turn,” she says to my friend.
I let go of her hand and Win struts onto the stage and does her thing. I watch her closely so I can be schooled on what to do. In the end Win Lee gets a final bid for five million and a request for an on-the-spot wedding.
She stumbles back behind the curtain to grab her bag and giggles with delight. “I think some younger lion shifter bought me,” she grins. “This is going much better than I thought. It really wasn’t so bad. Get out there, girl, and show them your stuff. Make that money.”
She kisses me on the cheek and she’s gone.
“Charlotte Bing is five foot six inches tall,” Coco St. James starts from the stage.
Oh dear god, she’s announcing my waist, chest and hip measurements and my weight like they’re pro athlete stats. I lift my chin, trying to ignore the rush of warmth in my cheeks as I step out into the spotlight. I toss my hair over my shoulder and stick my chest out, trying to imitate moves Win and the other young women used.
At first, there's just a tremulous smile on my lips because the nerves in my stomach get the best of me. But then the first bid comes in at two million. I lift my chin and turn toward the audience, strutting back and forth on the stage, having a bit of fun with this show.
And then a very deep, distinctive voice from the back of the dark audience shouts out, “Three million.”
Oh wow. Who is this guy? Usually the men up the bidding with the buttons on the armrest of their chairs, sort of a silent auction and Coco announces the bidding increase.
This is most unusual.
