“It’s not going to be easy, though. Your parents are going to lose it. Brandon’s going to lose it.”
“I know,” I replied. “That’s part of the point.”
“Just be sure you’re doing this for you, though. You are going to have to deal with a lot of shit from a lot of people.”
“I know.” People did tend to get weird about the whole money-for-sex thing.
“Okay, as long as you’re aware. I’m proud of you, Sabrina. I’m glad you’re sticking up for yourself and not taking all this lying down. I gotta go! Love you!”
“Love you too, Chloe. Thanks.”
Sabrina tested, best-friend approved.
I had trusted a nice guy, believed in a bright future, and chosen to remain faithful. But the nice guy had chosen somebody else. So, I was choosing something else.
What I didn’t fully grasp at the time was that the virginity auction would not only be a way out of my old life, but also a way towards a life I never could have dreamed of. It’s how I met Calvin, my biggest hero and my scariest nightmare. Not to mention the greatest lover. This story is about us.
Chapter 1
A loud humming jolted me from a disturbing dream. I had been walking down an aisle lined with flickering candles. Instead of white, my dress was black, the itchy lace rubbing against my thighs. As I neared the altar, I heard Brandon’s voice. “Where’s Caitlin?” he whispered softly. “I was not expecting you.”
I sat straight up in bed, disoriented. Where was I? That’s right, a suite in the heart of Las Vegas. Heart thumping, I reached up to touch my face and realized it was wet; I had been crying in my sleep. The nightmarish reality came rushing back. My heart still ached from the betrayal, and I burrowed back under the heavy down comforter.
Whirring again—what was that? I sat back up and realized it was the large air-conditioning unit in the corner of the room. It had been late when I’d checked in the hotel last night and crawled into bed without taking off any of my clothes, and I vaguely remembered setting the temperature to a cool 62.
The Nevada Playhouse would sponsor the auction, manage the bids, and regulate the sale if—and only if—I flew to Las Vegas to sign the paperwork.
Carmichael had explained the conditions of the auction to me that night in my dorm room, calling moments after I’d submitted my inquiry. He explained that the Playhouse would receive 20 percent of the final sale for their services.
As I looked around the room, I realized it was one of the most lavish hotel rooms I’d ever seen. Carmichael had met me at the airport in a limo, putting me immediately at ease. With his round belly, wrinkly face, and white bushy beard, he reminded me of Santa.
. “Alright, alright,” Carmichael said. “All the paperwork is in the car. By the time we arrive, we’ll have ourselves a deal.”
The contract was short and simple, containing only the details we’d discussed on the phone. Nevertheless, the butterflies in my stomach flapped their wings fiercely as I signed on the dotted line.
I was a zombie when we pulled up at the hotel; awake for almost twenty-four hours, my eyelids felt like they were filled with lead. Carmichael shook my hand firmly and told me we’d be in touch as soon as the auction closed about 11:00 p.m. the following day—which was today. The thought both thrilled and terrified me.
My phone vibrated next to the bed. I rolled on my stomach and grabbed it. Jesus—fifteen new e-mails, six voicemails. Several texts. Let’s start with the pleasant ones, shall we? I clicked an e-mail from my best friend Chloe. Guaranteed to make me smile.
Sabs—fuck that guy. I heard from Lindsay about Brandon and Caitlin (boy, does that bitch have a big mouth or what?); who does he think he is? Your mom called me, begging to have me talk some sense into you and get back with Brandon. Obviously, I told her to fuck off. Well, not in those terms exactly, but I clearly explained that I supported your decision to call off the wedding—how can they expect otherwise? Call me to discuss! xoxoxo, C.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to finally hear some words of support, rather than the continual what are you thinking! hurled in my direction.
But then there were the voicemails. Eventually, my curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to listen to the voicemails from my parents. Snuggling under the heavy weight of the comforter, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed PLAY.
Darling, it’s your mother. Come home. We’ll talk through this.
DELETE.
Sabrina—this time, my mother sounded a little more skittish, voice becoming high-pitched—please answer the phone! Your father and I are very disappointed with your behavior. You can’t just shut us out. We’re your family, and what you’re doing is affecting all of us.
DELETE.
Just what the hell do you think you’re doing! My father’s deep baritone bellowed through the phone. If you don’t pick up the phone—
DELETE.
Sabrina, I recognized his “lawyer tone,” controlled and in charge. Pick up the phone this instant. We need to discuss what you’re doing. This is already all over the news. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself. I don’t think you understand the repercussions of what you’re about to do. Brandon cheats and you’re punishing your family? Think about it, and please don’t drag the Clarke name through the mud. .
Quickly, I typed my name into Google, and in moments, a series of articles came up. Holy shit, he was right. No wonder the entire population of Dallas knew about it. TMZ, a few other news sites had picked up the story; looked like Carmichael’s PR strategy was paying off.
SMU Student Auctions Her First Time through the Nevada Playhouse.
A short blurb described me as a sophomore, majoring in dance, parents prominent members of the Dallas community. The article went on to say the bidding had started this morning and would close at 11:00 this evening.
A virginity auction. Visions of bald, bespectacled men danced in my head, waving wads of cash in my face. What was I thinking? This was so far from anything I had ever done. Was my father right? Would I regret this for the rest of my life?
How easy it would be to pack my small duffel, call my mom, and have her book me on the next flight back to Dallas. One simple phone call to the Nevada Playhouse and it’d be all over. I could handle that, right?
All I had to do was call up Mr. Carmichael and tell him I’d changed my mind. Surely second thoughts weren’t unusual for this sort of thing. I’d just tell him I’d decided an auction wasn’t the right experience for me.
Easy as pie.
My parents would be waiting with open arms at the airport, Brandon standing sheepishly behind them, hands shoved in his pockets nervously.
"Sabrina, I am so glad you've made the right decision on this," my dad would say.
"Brandon screwed up, big time. But I'm glad you've found the strength to move past this, which is what's best for everyone."
I pictured Brandon’s face—his big, remorseful eyes—and my stomach turned. Hell, no. All I could see was him thrusting between Caitlin’s thighs. Put this behind us? Forget it. I wasn’t the kind of woman who turns a blind eye to her husband’s wandering one. I was done playing the victim.
No more thoughts about backing down. I had to get out of that room. Stat!
As I got dressed, I realized I was starving. Fortunately, I was starving in Las Vegas, one of the most well-renowned cities for great food.
***
I picked a tiny, private restaurant tucked away in the corner of the Bellagio. The plan was simple—no cell phone, no e-mails, no interruptions. With my phone on silent, I picked up the menu, ready to pretend I was elsewhere entirely.
The little bistro in the Bellagio seemed far enough off of the more popular paths that I decided to treat myself to a meal and some peace and quiet. I turned my attention to the menu.
Before pushing my now-sated self away from the table, I decided to turn my phone back on. The buzzing began immediately. Incoming call from Dad cell. I let it go to voicemail, but the phone vibrated
again in my hand. He must have had me on redial.
“What, Dad?” I answered, in no mood for a lecture.
“Sabrina,” he said, and paused. There was a world of feeling in just the tone of his voice. Disappointment? Anger? Some tone only parents can achieve. My stomach sank like a 16 year old caught sneaking out after curfew.
“Dad—“I started, but I didn’t get far.
“Have you seen the news?”
“Just calm down a minute, okay Dad?”
He chuckled but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. I could picture my mother beside him, her face white, wringing her hands.
“I’m plenty calm,” he said. “I mean, I’m trying to be. Sabrina, we are both so worried about you. Do you have any idea what this is going to mean for you? I--” His voice broke off, then resumed, with a more resolute tone. "I don't know where I went wrong as a father to you, and I am sorry for that. Your mother and I did our best. Clearly we made some mistakes. But that's not a reason for you to throw away your life."
“Throw away my life?” I asked. “My virginity is not my life, Dad. And for the record, Brandon is the one who threw away our life together. That perfect little life you tried to force me into? I am not the one who threw that away.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
He sighed. “I’m not condoning Brandon’s mistakes. But you are about to make a much bigger mistake. I don't think you realize how much it's going to cost you. Please come home. We can work everything out. Brandon still loves you, and so do we.”
“Oh, he still loves me?” Words were sticking in my throat now. “Lucky me, I guess, that Brandon would deign to take me back.” Brandon was the one who ruined things. I was a grown woman, and I didn’t have to justify myself to anyone, least of all the people who’d spent their lives trying to control me. “I’m making my own choice, and there’s nothing wrong with it!” I was starting to get loud and I knew the tears were just around the corner, but I was determined to stand my ground.
“Sabrina, look, you’ve proven your point.” His voice was cool. “Obviously it’s your choice. And you had to go this far, I guess, because you were so upset. But don’t take it any farther. We can get past all of this, as long as you don’t go through with it. Please come home. You need to rest, get your head back on straight…”
“Get my head back on straight?” I said. “To be honest, Dad, I think this may be the first time it’s ever been on straight. Because I’m making a decision for myself. Think what you want. This isn’t about you or about the family. You’ve got no part in it, so there’s no reason you should be embarrassed.”
“Oh, Sabrina. I understand that you’re caught up in your own drama, but you have to start thinking of someone other than yourself. People aren’t going to just forget this. It’s national news. What if the Royal Oaks kicks us out?“
“You want me to care about the country club right now? Thanks a lot.” I couldn’t believe how obtuse they were being. “Dad, I have lived and breathed by your and Mom’s expectations my entire life. And I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job of trying to live up to them. Look, it’s not like I want to upset you. I really don’t. But I can’t just live my life based on not upsetting you either!”
“Sabrina, this goes far beyond upsetting us. You’re going to regret doing this to yourself and to everyone else. I don’t know how your mother and I are going to get past this.”
“No, Dad, I think you’ll regret it. I’ll be just fine, for once.” Emotionally wrung out, I hung up.
***
The dry desert heat felt like a large outdoor sauna, but there wasn’t any way I was going to leave Vegas without even looking at the shops. keep my hands in my pockets and indulge in a little window-shopping.
Shopping always made me feel better. Surrounded by beautiful fabrics and vibrant colors, I felt peaceful, as if the clothes somehow camouflaged me, and I could wander quietly, unnoticed.
I slipped into Valentino, mesmerized by the clean, classic lines and beautifully constructed garments. The sparsely stocked store was so zen, I was practically meditating. Stores like this were a house of worship for me, and each dress had its own altar. I approached a floor-length satin gown, in classic Valentino red. The dress was pure, audacious drama; I imagined the girl who wore it would be utterly self-possessed. The kind of girl I wanted to be.
Even though I said I wouldn’t, I reached out, feeling the silk glide between my fingertips. I sucked in sharply as I turned over the price tag—$4,080. Ouch. Hands in your pockets, Sabrina! That was the deal, I reminded myself.
My phone vibrated in my bag. Another text—would it ever end? Please, please don’t let it be from my parents. Thankfully, Chloe’s name lit my screen.
You’re famous! Her text read, followed by six or seven links to different websites—CNN, ABC, The Dallas Observer—all stories about blonde virgin from SMU, auctioning her most prized possession. Stay tuned for results! I didn’t know whether to be mortified or delighted, so I settled on a strange combination somewhere between the two.
***
By the time I returned to my hotel room, I was exhausted. The stress of the day had taken its toll. Normally, I stuck to showers in hotels. Tonight, though, I hazarded a bath. Warm water filled the tub halfway up, and I undressed next to it more seductively than I normally did. No one was watching, but when I closed my eyes I felt as though someone were, I felt as though he were. I imagined his hands were slipping the satin robe off my shoulders, his fingers threading under the straps of my bra, his palms sweeping over my breasts and sliding down my stomach. I was wet before I’d even dipped a toe in the water.
The water was warmer than the most comfortable blanket. Whatever tension remained in my muscles evaporated. I kept my eyes closed and let myself breathe. I could picture him so clearly in my mind, looming above me like an earthbound god over a sacrifice. I didn’t know who he was, all I knew was that I wanted him and that he’d find me one day. His presence was strong and vivid. My fingers twitched, a reflex to reach out and touch him. I wanted to feel him, I wanted him to feel me. I wanted his fingers to dance over my skin, to light me ablaze with lust like he could so easily. I sighed, and opened my eyes. The pale light of the bathroom seemed hollow without his long shadow in its way.
I had always loved baths and yet like the light, the experience seemed empty. It wasn’t that I’d come to dislike it, it was that I’d come to like something else so much more. His influence was devastating; I knew he was becoming a priority that eclipsed everything I used to enjoy. That, I began to realize, was his true talent.
I slid forward and let my head sink under. The warmth of the water rushed over my eyes and into my ears. The quiet was perfect; where before I had seen him without my eyes, I now heard him without my ears. His commanding tone rung in my mind, and I felt my hands snaking between my legs.
“Lay down-sit-Spread your legs-don’t move-Stand up,“ his voice shook through me, and the water began to rock back and forth. I exhaled from the pleasure, and bubbles flitted from my nostrils. My finger slipped inside, and my shoulder rolled with each stroke. I teased my clit, and let my hips rise and fall weightlessly in the water.
“Suck-be quiet-Pay attention-close your eyes-“ I imagined his hands grabbing me, entering me, torturing my sensitive skin with light touches. I wanted him between my legs so badly; I wanted his kisses on my thighs, his teeth on my neck, his whispers in my ear. I felt the water begin to curl and splash, creating little waves which made to vault over the sides of the bath. Let the floor get wet, I didn’t care. I was somewhere else, I was with him.
I imagined him sliding his lips down my legs, kissing my feet, pulling on my toes with his mouth. I imaged his tongue on my tongue, his thick manhood rubbing between my legs. I saw the triumphant look on his face when my façade cracked and I begged. To beg to him was like a form of prayer. Even as he sneered and mocked, all you wanted was to give him more. He deserved it, he earned it. He could break me l
ike a twig and let spill all of my willpower.
“Good girl-“ he made me feel good. He made me feel weak, and to be weak near him felt like being free. Even my own touch paled in comparison to what he could do. His fingers could slide inside me and open me up, as though they were keys and I the lock. He could swirl his tongue around my nipples and they would ache for more. He could grab any part of my body and, I swear, pour the heat of his lust right into me. Whatever he did, whenever he did it, was magnificent- just because he was him.
My hips bucked. Water splashed up and crashed back down as my hands quickened. I rose above the waves and inhaled, letting cold air spread through my lungs as warmth blossomed between my thighs. I slid another finger inside and groaned for him. My spine curved as I rubbed my clit harder and began to quicken my breath. Each thrust inside of me was better than the last, each picture of him in my head more clear. I felt his hand around my throat, I felt his fingers pinch my skin and I nearly yelped in imagined pain. My eyelids squeezed shut so tightly that colors began to explode behind my eyes. I felt ready to explode too.
“Mmm,” I cried, and this time the word hit air. I saw his full lips pull into a smile, his pearly teeth glinting at me. I saw his eyes narrow, and his face drop closer. My hands and his hands became one, and my toes curled as I felt him push deeper inside of me. I felt my muscles tighten, I felt that deep fire in me begin to release. Suddenly, it was upon me. My legs made the water around them slosh this way and that. My hips kicked up splashes that coated my chest. My feet pushed desperately at the end of the tub. My hands worked and worked, desperate for more release. I clenched my teeth and let the heat wash over me, gasping and shaking and thinking of his body as we, together, stroked me to completion.
And when it was all over, I sunk back down into the water, breathless and exhausted and alone.
***
I was toweling off as the hotel phone rang. Palms sweating, I picked it up. It had to be Carmichael. “Hello?” I whispered, mouth dry.
Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 Page 2
