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The man just chuckled and began to play slow sensual strains.
Marcus rolled what looked like a sturdy leather table into the room and positioned it at the front close to Nolan. As it had rolled past them, Claire glimpsed a placard that read: “Gift with Purchase by Jacob Hunter”.
“Saskia, come here,” Kane said.
The woman joined him.
“Turn,” he commanded.
She turned away from him, and Kane slowly began to unzip the long red evening gown. Saskia looked flushed with excitement even in the candlelight. He pushed the thin spaghetti straps off her shoulders, then pushed the gown first down to her waist, then over her hips.
Appreciative whistles sounded from the audience.
An imperial-sounding male voice said, “Leave the gloves on.”
“Of course, Phillip. She wore them for you,” Kane said.
Chuckles rose from the group.
The red gown pooled at her feet. “Step out,” Kane ordered.
He took her hand and helped her out.
“Good girl. Now turn, slowly, let them all take a good look.”
Saskia turned slowly all the way around to the sound of whistles and cat calls rising over the cello music. Kane took one of the white tubes of arousal cream out of the crystal bowl and returned to her. He spread the cream between her legs. The room went silent as they watched, mesmerized by the way she arched her body into his hand as he stroked her.
When he was finished, she got on top of the padded leather table and crawled to the center of it, facing the audience on her knees, legs spread wide.
“Appetizing, don't you think?” Kane said, a smile curving his lips.
Marcus read off a notepad: “Anton Volokov.”
The Russian and his blonde pet went up to the table and turned in their card. The buyer whispered something to Marcus. Marcus relayed whatever was said to Kane. Kane nodded. The Russian led the blonde woman over to the table where Saskia knelt, waiting, her breathing changing, her nipples hardening.
Marcus set the timer for ten minutes. The light ticking sound disappeared behind the strains of the cello. Claire couldn't take her eyes off them. The blonde woman began to kiss Saskia while Anton started to fondle her breasts and stroke between her legs.
Claire looked around the room to find one-by-one men were taking the white tubes out of the crystal bowl and returning to their pets. At first hands slipped under the high-slits in the women's evening gowns to grope and finger, then to apply the cream.
The buzzer sounded and Anton and his pet stopped touching Saskia, leaving her whimpering and begging them not to stop. The cream had obviously kicked in, and the Russian had known exactly how to touch her to keep her from coming.
“Sorry,” the Russian said, “Be a good girl. Rules are rules. The next one will satisfy you, I'm sure.”
Ari took Claire's hand and led her away from the group over to a buffet table in the back. “Eat something,” he said. “It'll help settle your nerves.”
Was it that obvious?
The two of them ate from the buffet as Marcus moved through two more names on the list.
“Are you okay?” Ari asked.
“Yes, Master.”
Moans and whimpers began to sound around the room as the arousal cream took effect. Tuxedos and dresses started to come off. Soon there were couples and groups fucking around the room on the gallery floor like animals in heat, having lost even the pretense of respectability or formal etiquette. Gone was the polite laughter and all that was left was guttural moans as fingernails dug into backs and hands slapped hard across exposed ass cheeks.
“Aric Dalgaard,” Marcus said.
“Aric?” Claire said, confused when Ari took her hand.
