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A slim woman in her fifties hands me a dress that makes my heart sink. It’s not just revealing; it’s designed to expose, to lay bare the very parts of me I’ve always kept hidden.
The fabric is scant, more illusion than coverage, with slits and cuts that leave nothing to the imagination. “Have you got anything else?” I ask as the other girls snigger behind me.
“This is what you’re wearing,” she states, her tone leaving no room for argument. “If you don’t like it, leave.”
The others watch with thinly veiled amusement as I change, their whispers cutting deeper than the cold air outside. “She won’t fetch much,” one murmurs, eyeing me with a mix of pity and scorn. “Too mousy, too...fat.”
Another adds, “No chance anyone’s going to bid for her at all. Not even sure why she’s here.”
Their words find their mark. I’m a lamb amongst wolves, out of my depth and painfully aware of it. I find a corner and get changed as the women continue to whisper about me.
I’m doing this for my family, I tell myself. It’s this, or we’re all dead.
“Bra off,” Emily says, glaring at me as I turn around. “You want to show them what’s for sale, don’t you?”
I do as I’m told, tugging in vain at the dress in a pathetic attempt to keep my nipples inside the fabric. “Vincent,” Emily shouts. “She’s ready.”
He sticks her head around the door a moment later. “You’re the first lot of the night, Miss North. Let’s get you up on stage, shall we?”
He leads me out of the dressing room, through three more doors, and then up a short flight of stairs onto a stage. The curtains are drawn, but I can hear voices talking on the other side. Men’s voices.
He leans over to whisper in my ear. “Remember, you only get paid after the winner confirms he got what he paid for; your virginity. So no running away before then, or you won’t get a penny.”
The curtains rise before I can respond, and Vincent steps forward into blinding lights. The murmur of the crowd grows as I feel the eyes of everyone in the place fixing on me.
I shift my position, wishing I could wake up from this nightmare. They’re staring at my legs; the dress cut up my thigh, and my nipples almost slipping out into view.
I wonder what they’re all thinking of my curves. Will anyone even bid on me? Were the girls in the dressing room right?
Vincent announces the start of the auction, I stand frozen, a statue of fear and desperation. “This is Amelia,” he says. “What a beauty, right? We’ll start at ten thousand dollars.”
The room is silent, save for the beating of my own heart.
“Anyone?” Vincent asks. “Come on, someone start the bidding.”
My heart sinks.I should have known. No one wants me. I came here to this horrible place, debased myself, and for what?
“One million dollars,” a voice shouts.
I frown. I’ve heard that voice in my most R-rated dreams. I must be going crazy.
I look out, trying to find the source, the sole person who sees value in me when all I feel is exposed and vulnerable. And there, in the shadows, I glimpse the familiar figure of my boss.
Ohshit.
Rafael, the man I’ve lusted after for twelve months, just bid a million dollars to take my virginity. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
4
RAFAEL
The crowded room hums with anticipation, but my focus narrows to one point, one person, on the auction stage.
Amelia stands before me, a vision that captures more than just my gaze—she commands my entire being.
Her dress, a concoction of fabric that plays a daring game of hide and seek, molds to her like a lover’s caress.
The color, a deep, rich crimson, sets off her skin’s warm glow, highlighting every curve and contour of her voluptuous figure with deliberate intention.
