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Just as he says that, an announcement crackles over the speakers above. The voice is that of a woman, silky smooth and low as it hums through the air. “Gentlemen, we are mere moments away from the show you’ve all been waiting for. If you would like to participate in our signature monthly auction, please make your ways to the stage.”
My brow furrows as the men inside the club erupt into cheers. An auction? Surely they don’t mean …
Distaste roils in my gut. What elsewouldthey mean?
I’m not against sex work or sex workers. While it’s never had any appeal to me, the people who work in the world’s oldest profession deserve the same rights that any other worker does. The rumors I’ve heard about this place in that regard are actually really good. The girls here are taken care of and well-protected by the people who run the establishment.
But anauction? Really? What the hell does that even mean?
Within moments, club members are pressing forward against the stage, milling around as they wait for the even to start. I can’t help looking on with curious eyes.
Suddenly, the club lights dim even further, and the stage lights come up, illuminating a luxurious velvet curtain. A woman steps out wearing black Louboutin pumps and tasteful black gown. She’s older, but still attractive, her smile wide as she holds a microphone up and begins to speak.
“Gentlemen, welcome to The Black Door’s monthly Parade of Vixens,” she purrs into the microphone. Her voice is the same as the one who’d made the earlier announcement. “Thank you for supporting us tonight.”
Cheers and claps rise up from the crowd as she explains the rules and etiquette for the auction. Finally, she gives them a coquettish smile, looking every bit like the cat who caught the canary.
“Now, I have a very special surprise. Our first vixen has a delightful little detail that I’m sure will have you all chomping at the bit for a chance to spend some time with her.”
A murmur passes through the gathered men. I barely manage to hold back my eyeroll. This all seems like a really tacky way of conveying the fact that this first auctionee can bend in weird and exciting ways or doesn’t have a gag reflex.
“It’s been a while since we last had one, boys. That’s right, our first vixen is a virgin!”
My heart sinks. Some poor girl is about to get bid upon like she’s nothing more than a fancy vase. I can only hope she’s doing this because she wants to, not because she’s been coerced into it. Again I remind myself that this club has a good reputation, if only to put my mind at ease.
As the curtain parts, the stage lights flicker to illuminate a figure standing on the stage. Her pale skin gleams under the harsh light, her long legs made to look longer by a tiny skirt paired with impossibly high heels.
And that’s when my eyes flicker upward to look at her face.
My vision goes red.
It’s not just any virgin up there, auctioning off her first experience with sex for who knows what kind of profit.
Felicia. My guilty attraction. My secret treasure. The god damned best friend of my only daughter.
I start to shake with fury. How the hell did she end up in a place like this, wearing nothing but the tiniest, tightest little dress I’ve ever seen in my fucking life?
As the eager crowd erupts with shouting, I realize with horror that they’re bidding on her. They’re bidding on the little girl I’ve coveted for months. She’s like a lamb being led to slaughter, and the thought that one of these bastards will take her from me makes me surge forward.
I will not let them pull her from my grasp.
Not today, not ever.
Felicia is mine, and everyone in this fucking club is going to know it by the end of this auction.
Chapter 4
Felicia
Who knew that auctioning off my virginity was going to involve signing so much paperwork?
I’ve signed multiple different confidentiality agreements and consent forms, not to mention a contract for payment. Not even applying for college involved this much red tape.
Then again, I don’t think applying for college involves illegal activity like this does.
Just before stepping onto the stage to wait for the curtains to draw, the announcer, Stella, asks me one last time if I’m sure I want to do this. She towers over me in her fancy heels, but she’s not as intimidating as I thought she’d be when I first met her. When I assure her that yes, I really do want to do this, she gives me a small smile and tells me good luck before taking her microphone from a stagehand.
Just because Iwantto do this, doesn’t mean I have to particularly like it. And it doesn’t mean I don’thaveto do it as well. At this point, I don’t have any other options. I need the money now, and when the chance to pay it all off in one fell swoop falls into your lap, you take it.
