Chapter 2

Faye

Jen helps me pick out my outfit for the auction, the slinkiest lingerie I own under one of my tight club dresses. I think this outfit is too much, but Jen assures me it is perfect. The auction house told me to wear something sexy and the redundancy of the suggestion strikes me as kind of funny now.

Jen can’t come with me because she has a late class tonight. She tells me to have fun and be safe. I leave, my mind blank the entire way over to the rich neighborhood The Black Door is in. Once I get there, it becomes a whirlwind, along with my stomach. In the dressing room, there’s a half dozen other girls, all decked out in lingerie that makes me blush.

The manager, Ms. Calloway frowns at my pink undies and shakes her head. “These are much too modest.”

My heart sinks and I begin to apologize, cursing myself for not shelling out for something new. Rent was due this week and I couldn’t stomach spending the money when I had bills to pay. I thought my financial struggles would be coming to an end tonight, but someone has to bid on me first, and now that I see what everyone else is wearing, I can understand why Ms. Calloway looks so disappointed.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, opening a closet and pulling out a rack full of bits of lace and satin, then leaving me to pick something.

One of the other girls pulls out a black number with a garter and stockings. “How about this one? Wait, I don’t recognize you. Is it your first time?”

I nod, having trouble finding my voice, which is something totally new.

“Your first time?” another participant says. She’s wearing a very miniaturized version of a cheerleader costume.

“Yes,” I manage to say. “You?”

They both laugh and shake their heads. Turns out one of them is on her third auction, saving up to buy a couple of apartments in Florida so she can rent them out and be financially secure.

“I’m just having fun,” the other one says, looking at the others. “We’ve all done this before, which means you’re the only virgin tonight.” They grin widely. “You’re going to make a fortune!”

It’s nice that they aren’t being competitive, and it’s also nice to hear that the experience wasn’t so awful considering many of the women came back for more. Talking to them helps me relax.

“So, what’s it like?” I ask, finding a sheer white set. “Be honest.”

By now, everyone has gathered around to share the experiences. One of the girls tells me she’s here because she actually has a thing for old guys, making all the girls laugh. At least she knows what she likes.

“I’m hoping Alfred’s here tonight. He can work wonders down south when he takes his dentures out,” she says.

I almost keel over and someone grabs me by the shoulder to keep me upright. “Tell me she’s kidding,” I whisper.

“She’s not, but don’t worry. Even if Alfred’s here tonight, he’ll hold out for miss gummy lover over there. They’ve got a special bond.” She breaks out in laughter. “Like denture paste.”

“Shut up,” Miss gummy lover says good naturedly.

“So, nothing really awful?”

Everyone exchanges looks, like they’re not sharing everything. “Everyone is vetted, so no one’s going to get violent or anything. But don’t expect anyone who looks like Chris Hemsworth.”

There’s more laughter and I concentrate on getting dressed. It certainly can’t be too bad if all these women came back for more. I’m certain this is going to be a onetime deal for me. Just enough so I can finish college debt free and travel to my heart’s content. It will be nice for Jen and I to upgrade apartment’s too. I know she has sacrificed a lot for me by living within my budget and I can’t wait to live somewhere she loves.

The music that’s wafting back to the dressing room from the club stops and Ms. Calloway pops her head in. “We’re starting,” she tells us, just as the muffled voice of an announcer tells the men out front to get ready.

The cheer is deafening, like they’re all rowdy football fans and not rich, important businessmen. I get butterflies in my stomach – not the good kind – and am relieved I’m not the first one out there.

Miss gummy lover is up first, and is back in less than ten minutes, beaming with happiness. She high fives her friends and tells them Alfred went hard for her. She brags about the massive bid he placed.

“No way,” I say to no one in particular, stunned at the amount.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get a lot more,” she tells me, confusing my shocked tone for disappointment.

My excitement keeps me going until the next participant comes back with a sour look on her face. She’s clearly not happy with who bid on her, but says she’ll get over it when she’s able to buy a new car. My nerves take over again. By the time it’s my turn I don’t know what to think.

I freeze as one last wave of second thoughts hits me. Then someone gives me a nudge and the next thing I know I’m out on the stage.

The lights are bright and the noise is deafening. So many men shouting over each other as the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers. All I can see is a blur of stage lights bouncing off the bottles behind the bar. The men are just moving shadows unless I get right up close to the edge of the stage. I’m definitely not doing that.

It hardly matters if I can see anyone, as I have no choice in who wins me. The music thumps and I hear numbers being shouted out that make my head spin. Everything I’ve ever wanted is going to come true. Even after the club takes their cut, I’m going to be rich.

The appreciative hoots and hollers give me a rush of confidence. I like showing off, and now’s the time to do it if ever there was one. Staying behind the anonymity of the blinding stage lights, I stride back and forth, turn slowly, give a shimmy. With each yelled number, I smile in the general direction of where it came from, then do a little dance move, urging those numbers to keep flying.

Then the bidding slows and it’s down to two voices, one of them ragged, desperate, and maybe even a bit familiar. I get a little closer to try to make out different faces but it’s just a sea of bobbing heads.

The final bid is extremely satisfying and I hurry backstage to where the winner will be waiting to take me home. Back in the dressing room, the other girls congratulate me on my massive bid. They all seem astounded. Maybe I really did break a record.

The butterflies pick back up again. This is it. Fifteen minutes ago, I could have walked out of here and called Jen to laugh about what a crazy idea this was. But now it’s too late. Who is going to be waiting for me out there?

I pull my trench coat around me, my hands trembling too much to button it up. I’m usually fearless, but this isn’t fear that’s got me in its grip right now, it’s something deeper. Am I really giving up my one shot for what could have possibly been the most romantic and memorable time of my life just for money?

A hell of a lot of money, I remind myself. And according to most of my friends, it was just as likely my first time would have been over in two minutes.

“You’ve got this,” someone says, pushing me toward the door.

I realize I’ve been standing there with my hands gripping the belt of my coat and staring at the dressing room door like it’s a bear I met randomly on a mountain path. Is the man waiting outside going to be better or worse than a wild grizzly bear?

Please at least don’t let him be as hairy,I pray.

When I push open the door and go down the hall, I’m stunned speechless when I see my Professor Simmons there. Embarrassment causes my cheeks to blaze and I look past him, hoping he won’t recognize me. Why does he have to be the kind of guy to come to a club like this, and why, oh why, does he have to be out here at the precise moment I have to meet my high bidder.

There’s no one else in the hall. Do I duck back into the dressing room or try to make small talk? Keep my head down and hope he finds his way back into the main club?

All of a sudden I feel strong hands at my waist. I suck in a breath, my nostrils filling with an intoxicating, expensive cologne. I’ve never been this close to him before to be able to smell his cologne. Why am I so close to him now?

I look up to see Professor Simmons giving me a dazzling smile. Combined with his firm grip on my sides, I feel weak in the knees. My face gets even hotter. I must be purple.

“W-what are you doing here?” I ask.

He tugs me closer so that his hard body is flush with mine, his gray eyes darkening as he grins down at me. What if the high bidder comes out and sees him with his hands on me?

His low chuckle sends a lightning bolt of desire straight through me. God, how I wish…

“You belong to me now, Faye,” he tells me, his fingers curling into my waist.

Wow. I can’t believe he’s my bidder. Never in a million years did I think I would be this lucky. I feel the huge, silly grin on my face and I can’t be bothered to care that he can see my joy immediately. All I can do is stare at my hot professor, and favorite author, the man who haunted my dreams and made me toss and turn in my bed all last year. I want to tell him how happy I am, how grateful, but I am frozen.

How can this be real?