Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

May tenth

Dahlia

I asked the club organizers if they could pick me up outside of Percy’s club instead of my apartment. I didn’t want to be waiting in front of my building for my driver. My roommates have gotten worse and worse lately, so I’ve picked up extra shifts, and am living off less and less sleep, so that I’m never home anymore.

It’s almost like living on the streets, except I pay for the privilege of an apartment that’s unsafe to live in.

The amount of coffee I’ve consumed over the past month and a half should be illegal, but all I can do is keep moving. This weekend is my end goal, and what I’ve been working toward since I received my acceptance email.

I made it to May tenth, it’s here, now the rest is out of my hands. There’s a certain amount of relief that I feel, knowing that I can stop fighting to simply survive.

Sitting in the car with my change of clothes inside, I gaze out at the world. The weather is warmer finally, but I’m still wearing a light coat tonight. I need to be at the club by six, making me glad I’m fine on time.

While I was filling out the paperwork, I caved and told them I was a virgin. I was doing some research online, and found out taking someone’s virginity is a kink. Maybe it’ll make me more attractive to buyers?

I never thought my lack of experience may be a plus for this until I began my deep dive on the internet.

“Ma’am, we’re here,” my driver murmurs softly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I think the lack of sleep is beginning to get to me, and my eyes want to droop closed.

Blinking rapidly, I nod as I open the door, sliding out to meet him outside of the town car. The driver escorts me inside the unassuming warehouse, and down to the club floor, using a key card.

“This is where I leave you,” he says, motioning for me to exit before him. A woman with a tablet turns to me with a smile. “Holly, take good care of this one.”

“Always do,” Holly says as I walk toward her. “Precious, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I reply, my heart beating a little faster now that I’m here.

I watch as she clicks something on her tablet and then lifts a small bowl from the table beside her.

“Please pick a number from the bowl,” Holly says, watching as I do. “Perfect, you’re number nine in the auction, and from now on you’ll be called Precious. Anonymity is very important to us, as you saw from the nondisclosure agreement.”

Nodding, I rasp, “It’s important to me as well.”

The club made sure to explain to me how their records were impenetrable, as were their security systems when I applied. I can’t risk anyone finding me after I leave here. I’ve spent too much time and energy trying to outrun my nightmares.

Following Holly to my room, I’m met by two stylists named Nico and Sophia. The woman’s makeup is amazing, her dark sleek hair pulled back into a ponytail. We don’t speak much as I sit down in the chair and allow them to get me ready.

It’s surreal having people pamper me, but I can slowly see myself transforming into another person. One that’s confident and doesn’t let others dictate her future. I want to be that person, which is why I’m doing this auction.

Dressing in my black teddy after they leave, I wrap myself in my robe and wait for them to call me. I know that it’ll feel as if it’s taking forever, but will likely happen in a blink of an eye.

Now, I can only hope I’ll be able to stay awake until then.

Jack

“We’re here,” I murmur, glancing at Bronwyn who is chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she says with a nod. “It feels as if we were just talking about this, and now it’s time.”

Getting out of my truck, I walk around to open her door. The last few months I’ve been really working on my relationship with Bronwyn. The extra attention has made her blossom, the color is always high in her cheeks, from whatever dirty comment I have to whisper in her ear, and it makes me want to kick my own ass for waiting so long.

At the tail end of February, Lorrie came into my office freaking the fuck out. The video cameras at one of the Brighton department stores flagged a woman who walked off the street to shop.

The program marked her as a ninety-eight percent match for Dahlia Moore’s likeness.

Taking Bronwyn’s hand, I force myself to smile at her as I help her out. I want to stay in the moment, but the memory is dragging me back to that day. I remember seeing large caramel brown eyes and long brown curls that were only slightly more well behaved than I was used to seeing.

Dahlia looked haunted and scared shitless.

I called the store and asked the guard to detain her because there was a warrant for arrest, but she had disappeared. Now, I have her flagged to be detained. I should have had Lorrie do that from the beginning, I just didn’t really think there was a chance she would ever step inside Brighton’s buildings.

Maybe it was a bit shitty of me to flag her as a wanted person, but I need answers. Bee and I deserve them as to why she never looked for us.

I was so pissed off at myself and ashamed, I didn’t tell Bronwyn about it. I should have told her immediately, but it’s been over two months since it happened.

“How are we getting in here again?” Bronwyn asks, looking up at the warehouse as I lock the truck and begin walking toward the front door.

“We’re special guests tonight,” I remind her, using my key to open the heavy door. “Now, we’re just going to take a little ride in the elevator, beautiful.”

Holding onto her hand, I can see her pupils are blown with anticipation and excitement. Bronwyn is also wearing the butt plug I’ve been teasing her about whenever possible. It was waiting for her beside the outfit she laid out for herself to wear.

I never fucking bluff. It’s too much fun to follow through.

“This thing is moving inside of me as I walk,” she gasps, eyes wide as she walks in her high heels through the elevator doors. I only look away from her for enough time to swipe my keycard to ensure it accepts that my arrival is legit.

Bronwyn is wearing a hunter-green dress made of lace that shows off her milky skin. It teases my eyes and makes my cock harden as I gaze at her, pushing the elevator button to head down.

“Wait till I turn it on,” I growl, biting my fist as I think about the remote in my pocket. “Goddamn, you look good enough to eat and worship between your thighs, baby girl.”

Shivering, she gazes up at me. Even in her high heels, she is so much shorter than I am. Her coat is open around her, making me want to shove it off and fuck her against the wall. I’ve been talking dirty about watching Bee fuck another girl while I watch, because I really do want her to feel fulfilled and happy.

I don’t think this will go any further than this weekend, unless she feels a connection with the girl. I’m having a difficult time imagining that I’ll want to join them, though I’m not against fucking Bee while she’s enjoying herself.

Tonight is about seeing what happens, and throwing caution to the wind.

As the elevator doors open, there’s someone waiting to take my key and lead us to our seats. The inside of the club looks so different from the plain outside of the warehouse. Everything is upscale and beautiful, the female wait staff is dressed similarly in purple boyshort panties, matching bras, and heels escorting people to their seats.

There’s music playing, a bar set up, and it all feels very legitimate despite the fact that they are selling men and women for money.

What makes someone decide to do this?

It makes me think about the shit that people are thrown on a daily basis, forcing them to claw their way through their day. Bee sees so much of it at her job at the Keller Crisis Center, and she told me about a girl she spoke to a few months ago who said she called to talk to someone because she has no one else.

Sitting next to Bee, we both decline to go to the bar to get drinks, wanting to keep our wits about us. The tablet sitting in front of us has our banking details loaded into it, and will be where we’ll be bidding from.

Once the auction begins, we’re supposed to be silent for the most part, but I’m sure whispers will be fine. This is being run as a respectable business, I think they don’t want people screaming or whooping.

I don’t much care for the theatrics, so I appreciate this setup.

It looks as if we have a few minutes before things will begin.

“The starting bid is really five hundred thousand dollars?” Bee whispers, leaning toward me with wide eyes as she gingerly touches the tablet as if it’s going to bite her. Her coat is neatly folded to the side, leaving her gorgeous body on display in that dress.

Smirking, I slide my hand into my pocket and turn on the butt plug, thoroughly enjoying the way her body jumps in the chair.

“If your thoughts are on the plug in your ass, then they’re not on the money,” I tease her, loving the way she squirms in her dress. “We’re here to enjoy ourselves, indulge in any and all of your desires. The money doesn’t fucking matter to me. I have more than I know what to do with.”

My breath in her ear as I speak to her makes her begin to pant, her nipples starting to pebble underneath her dress. Even her bra is no match for her arousal, making me chuckle darkly.

The lights begin to dim as I have my fun, and a man in a black suit walks out onto the stage, looking out at us.

As the light from the spotlight increases, the darkness becomes more pronounced for those sitting in the audience, and I expect that it’s so the men and women being auctioned off can’t see us either.

Bee and I left our phones in the car, knowing we wouldn’t be allowed to have them. They take privacy very seriously here, which is another thing I appreciate about the way this auction is run.

I’ve already recognized a few people I know in the room from attending networking events with very affluent people.

There are even some who have traveled in for this. The man on stage lifts the microphone in his hand, but he already has our attention. We’re all silent and waiting, eager to continue to the next part of our evenings.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Club Lust,” he begins, gazing out at us. “We are pleased to have sixteen lots of merchandise up for sale tonight. Please remember once the lights are fully off that no one is to move from their seats. This auction will be silent. As I announce the merchandise, a head shot will appear on your tablets. I will provide information on each lot. If you are interested, the starting bid is five hundred thousand and will go up in increments of fifty thousand until it reaches one million.”

Bee gasps, and I increase the intensity of the butt plug, because I can be petty. Her hand reaches out to grab onto my forearm, her nails biting into my skin. I don’t mind the pain, knowing her mind is only trained on me and the pleasure I’m willing to give her if she’s a good girl.

“At that time each bid will raise by five hundred thousand,” the man continues. “You can click the bid button as many times as you desire. Each auction will only be open for five minutes. At the end of that time the tablets will announce the winning bid number only. As a reminder, we do not use names. If you are outbid it will flash across your screen to bid again and if you win the tablet will flash you are the winner. Just a reminder if you bid for two people and win tonight then your tablet is automatically locked, preventing you from any additional bidding for the night. Our first lot for the night is Virtue.”

It’s incredible to me that people would come to the auction with the intention to buy more than one person, or maybe they feel so drawn to them that it simply happens. Easing down the intensity on the toy, I allow Bee to take slow, steady breaths.

“I guess you should pay attention, huh?” I murmur softly next to her as she takes the tablet with trembling hands.

“I’m reminding myself that you have a very pretty dick right now,” she growls, making me hold back a laugh. Bee is such a brat, but her priorities are typically in order.

Together, we watch each person as they walk out onto the stage, and the man reads her or his bio, a list of hard limits discussed, and any special attributes highlighted.

Every participant in the auction is so different from the next. There are curvy women, thin, some that are virgins, and others that enjoy water sports. It feels so odd to have all of this discussed so openly, but also liberating.

It’s awkward enough to be looking for someone for your girlfriend without having to pull the details of what they like in the sack from them. The auction makes things easy. Throughout it all though, I notice that Bee’s finger never touches the bid button.

“Still nothing?” I murmur, watching her. Every woman has been beautiful, but my cock hasn’t twitched once.

“No,” she sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. They’re pretty, but…”

“We’re still early in the night,” I remind Bee. “Let’s see what happens.”

It’s when participant number nine walks out that my jaw drops. Leaning forward, I see the head shot on the tablet is of someone I’ve known her entire life. It’s not possible. What the fuck?

“Bee, do you see?” I rasp, seeing that the name she chose for herself is Precious. Glancing over, I notice that Bee is breathing heavily, trying to get her mind to believe what her eyes are telling her. Shoving my hand in my pocket, I turn off the toy, hoping it’ll help her to think.

“That’s her,” Bee hisses, wincing as she sits taller. “Oh God, why is she here?”

“Don’t pay attention to what the screen says,” I growl. “Just keep bidding, baby.”

Her jaw grits as she listens to the man on stage calling out Dahlia’s attributes. Dolly’s curls are perfectly curled and styled, her black teddy accentuating her large breasts and tiny waist.

When she turns in a circle, showing off her gorgeous ass, I fucking growl like a caveman. I can see from here that she’s too goddamn thin. It’s the look of someone who hasn’t been eating well, though only Bee and I can tell that because we know what she used to look like.

“Precious is a virgin…”

I swear the oxygen leaves my lungs as I hear that, and Bee looks equally horrified. There’s no way she’s having her first time having sex with a stranger. I have so many questions for her, things she may not owe me the answers to. Gareth hurt her, raped her from my understanding of her text, however she wouldn’t lie about something like this.

There are many ways to rip away someone’s innocence.

Bee’s finger jabs at the bid button as she leans over the tablet, looking panicked.

“What if we don’t win?” she asks, eyes wide and brimming with emotion. Bee is trying hard not to cry so she can watch the screen, gasping when the bid status remains red after each increase.

The amount being bid long crossed over a million dollars, but neither of us can bother worrying about it.

I meant it when I told her that I didn’t care about the money. My income is a means for me to be able to take care of the people important to me, ensure they have what they need, and donate to others when the opportunity arises.

I’ve been anonymously sending money to mental health nonprofits over the last few years, knowing they hold a soft place in Bee’s heart. She continues to struggle with how she didn’t realize the kind of terrible person her father is.

“Again,” I mutter when the thirty second timer appears at the top of the screen. My heart is starting to pound as my eyes ping pong between the tablet and the woman standing on the stage.

The emcee begins the countdown as Bee hits the button in quick succession, watching for the green light that shows she’s winning. His voice grates on my fried nerves, the blood threatening to pound in my ears.

I can’t show weakness or break while Bee’s harsh breaths pant out as she bids. Leaning forward, I rub her back, unfortunately startling her. I thought my nerves were bad? Bee’s are unraveling from the stress, the woman of our dreams possibly slipping from our fingers a very real reality.

“You’re doing so good,” I whisper. “She’s not going to get away. I’d give away my entire fortune to have the chance to just speak to her. Come on, Bee. Hang in there.”

Shuddering, she nods as she watches for signs that the bid isn’t winning before she increases it even more. Since the bids have crossed over a million dollars, bids now will rise in five hundred thousand increments.

We are at two million dollars now, and all I care about is a chance to speak to Dahlia. The reasons for why we are sitting here have greatly changed, and Bee gasps as she hits the bid button consistently as the last seconds tick by.

Green . The winning bid goes to us, and Bee sags in relief. Three million dollars is how much the final bid was. Pulling Bee against me, I kiss her temple. Her skin is clammy from the stress.

“We won,” I breathe. “I know tonight isn’t going the way we thought it would…”

“It’s going better,” she sighs. “I just want to see her, talk to her… Jack, Dahlia looks so thin!”

“I know,” I grunt. “Who the fuck knows what she’s been going through. I feel like a dick for insisting that she’d find us. Now, I’m wondering if I was going about this all the wrong way…”

Dahlia can put me through whatever hell she’d like. I’ll take it all to be able to make this right. I promised to always protect her, even from herself.

Bronwyn

My head feels light as I stand, and Jack’s strong arm wraps around my waist to steady me. I’m sure people think I’ve had too much to drink, but I haven’t even had a sip of alcohol. It was sheer torture to sit through the rest of the merchant lots.

I white-knuckled my way through it, my body begging for me to move.

“Time to get our girl,” Jack murmurs under his breath, scooping up my coat. My ankles seem intent to roll as I walk in my heels. I’ve never had trouble in these shoes, and now suddenly my damn legs don’t want to work.

Blowing out a breath, I strengthen my ankles, because Jack will pick me up otherwise. I don’t really want to be carried when I see Dahlia again. I already have so much to talk to her about, apologize.

I should have pushed more four years ago.

“Shhh,” Jack whispers in my ear as I swipe away my tears as we walk. “We can do this.”

The payment immediately went through on our end for tonight with a single swipe of Jack’s finger on the tablet. I should feel ill at the amount he paid, and if it was anyone else, I might.

However, it’s the girl who got away. The one whose caramel brown eyes I still dream about. I imagine I hear her voice on the phone too. I got another call two weeks ago from a girl that sounded like Dahlia. It was the same one who called before her shift months ago the first time.

She sounded defeated and beaten. Exhausted and tired. Was that really Dahlia?

A handler from the club is waiting for us at the end of the aisle, and she smiles as she shows us the tablet in her hand.

“Congratulations on your winning bid,” she says. “The funds have been accepted by the club, but I need you to read and sign this contract agreeing to the terms of your agreement with us. You’ll have the full weekend with the merchandise, but will be responsible for returning her to the club by midnight on Sunday.”

Jack and I nod, signing the contract without hesitation. Neither of us have any issues with the terms of the contract, even though if things go well, we’ll be keeping her forever.

“She’ll be waiting for you in her dressing room,” the handler murmurs. “Please follow me.”

Jack and I are hot on her heels as she leads us through the club. The long hallway to the dressing room features black walls, marble floors, and chandelier ceilings. Not one expense was slated even here.

There’s a number nine outside of Dahlia’s room, matching up to the lot order she went out in. The handler knocks on the door before she inclines her head toward us and leaves.

“Coming,” the same voice that I’ve spoken to twice on the phone says, opening the door. “Wait, what?”

“Hey, Dolly,” Jack says softly, stepping forward. The movement forces her to walk back, eyes wide. “I promise, we had no idea you’d be here when we first arrived.”

I want to tell him to stop, to give her a chance to breathe, but I can’t catch my breath enough to say a word as I follow behind him.

“How is this possible?” she asks, her brown eyes shimmering with tears. “Am I dreaming?”

“No,” I say, finding my voice. Dahlia’s sharp gaze finds mine, and her chest begins to heave with emotion. She's wearing a gauzy black robe over her teddy, and her knees fold underneath her.

“Bronwyn?” she wails, and I begin to cry again, rushing forward and dropping to the floor to clutch her hands.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m so sorry. I came home as soon as I could four years ago. Gareth wouldn’t let me, but Jack bought me a ticket. He called the way you asked him to,” I gasp, sobbing.

Jack closes the door behind himself, his mismatched eyes appearing tortured as he watches us, his back pressed against the wall as if holding it up.

“I couldn’t stay,” she sobs. “Gareth left me a knife to kill myself. He said it was the only way to keep you from finding out.”

I can’t not touch her anymore. Throwing my arms around her thin shoulders, I hold her tightly.

“It’s okay to choose yourself,” I weep. “You got out, you’re safe.”

“I haven’t been safe for a long time,” she whispers, holding me tightly. “Wait… you’re here with Jack?”

I can feel Dahlia retreating, and I don’t want to let her go, but have to. Pulling back, I give a shuddering breath as I nod.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “He took me in, and I finished high school at a public school. First, Jack helped me get back into the house while no one was around to find your note and pack. I was eighteen, sad, and sitting on the couch one night drinking when he came home from work.”

“It just happened,” Jack says softly, a tear rolling down his cheek with heavy footsteps until he lowers himself to the ground. “We were both hurting, drunk, and had sex.”

“You had sex,” Dahlia repeats, eyes wide. “So you’re together. You came here to find someone… oh fuck.”

“It’s been four years, and we kept hoping and waiting for you to reach out,” I say, the hurt bleeding into my voice. “You’ve been in Detroit this entire time?”

Dahlia snorts, dashing the tears leaking out of her eyes. “This is really fucking rich,” she mutters. “I was homeless when I left your house. Jack, you once walked right fucking past me!”

The color leaves Jack’s face and he catches himself on the floor before he falls over.

“What? No, that’s not possible,” he grunts. “Do you know how many laws I’ve broken trying to find you? I can’t believe I’d?—”

“It was my eighteenth birthday,” she rasps. “I should stop celebrating them. They always mark another year of misery. So, apparently I’m yours for the weekend. Are you going to take my virginity too, Jack?”

Dahlia’s eyes spark with a fire that I didn’t see the entire time she strutted on stage earlier. The confidence was feigned, the energy a performance. Now? She’s fiery and fucking pissed.

I shouldn’t be feeling the butterflies in my stomach as I gaze at her and the way she’s snarling at Jack. Yet, I am, because as long as she can push back and scream and yell, she’s still here and fighting.

Dahlia may be sparring with the wrong person, though.

Jack fucking lives for brats.

“Maybe,” Jack growls. “You’ll have to get off this goddamned ground to find out, though, Dolly.”

Huffing, she gets up, hands on her hips as she glares down at us.

“You’re so damn bossy,” she says. “You’re in no position to be this way after everything.”

Standing, Jack drags his long fingers up the long length of her neck, pushing her chin up to meet his gaze. From here, I can see goosebumps appearing up her body, and her skin is flushing slightly.

“I think you’re wrong there, baby girl. You’re fucking mine for the weekend. You'll do what you’re told and beg for more,” he rumbles.

From where I am on the floor, I can see her thighs press against each other, all while her gaze glares at him. We’re going to have our hands full with her, but we deserve it. No matter what, by the end of the weekend, we’ll find a way to fix this.

Jack and I have tried, and we can’t live without her. Every glimpse of her, every time she’d call in to the call center, has sent us into a tailspin. We’re a pyramid without one of our end pieces.

No matter what, we’re going to topple over without her. Dahlia yawns, surprising us, and I stand as I watch her stance weave.

“Come home with us,” I beg, standing next to Jack. I know she thinks I’m on his side, but I’m not. I’m on our side. The one where I fight for us. “You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“When is the last time you’ve slept or eaten?” Jack asks, sighing.

“Can I plead the fifth?” she mumbles as her stomach fucking growls, outting her. “You have to feel safe for long enough to close your eyes to sleep, and have enough energy to fight people off for your money to eat. I don’t have either. That’s why I’m here, so I can go somewhere where my ghosts can’t follow me.”

Dahlia is about to fall over. I can see a change of clothes in the bag on the couch, but I don’t think we’re going to get that far. Grabbing her coat and bag, I wrap the material around her shoulders so we can leave.

“Tonight, you’re sleeping. Tomorrow, we’re going to figure things out together,” I insist, glaring at Jack not to push.

“Yep, that’s what we’re gonna do, Dolly. Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says.

Dolly opens her mouth to argue or say anything at all, but I shake my head.

“Table it, baby. You’re going to need your strength with that one. He’s a stubborn fucking mule,” I whisper into her ear. Jack gasps, clapping his hand to his chest as if I wounded him, but I know better.

I’m going to earn at least a couple of spankings while trying to get Dahlia into his truck. I can tell Jack is willing to play the game when the damn butt plug turns on, and my hands clamp down on her shoulders.

“Walk,” I gasp. “Move your gorgeous ass now.”

Together, Jack and I hustle her out of the club, my thighs trembling with the effort not to come or drop me on my ass. I’ll take the punishment for teasing Jack though.

Dahlia’s eyes close in the truck, and she drifts off, which is a win even as I whimper and writhe beside her.

“Worth…it,” I gasp at Jack, even as he smirks while he drives.

“I don’t know whether I want to beg her forgiveness on my knees for not seeing her that day, or yell at her for not punching me in the dick,” he mutters. “Either way, I have a feeling she’s not going to just forgive us.”

“Good,” I say. “I hope she gives us hell.”