I am just starting to feel comfortable and building up my courage to go join in a conversation when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to find a large, muscular man in the same black suit and earpiece as the man at the door.
“Ms. Taylor?”
I nod.
“Please come with me.”
Chapter 8 - Emma
I follow the tall man out of the main room and into another warren of heavily draped hallways. I didn’t have a chance to alert Hannah when the man came to get me, so I walk behind him alone. All sorts of crazy ideas pop into my head. The guy at the front had validated our invitations, but I still have the feeling that I am somewhere I am not supposed to be, like getting the invitation was the result of some clerical error that they have now just caught. I’m ready to be told that I need to go home, be placed in a cab, and cut off forever from this elegant, strange world that I have just gotten to taste.
I nearly run into the brick wall of my escort, who has come to an abrupt stop. He turns and motions for me to go through a curtain he is holding open. Without another option that I can see, I walk through.
On the other side of the curtain is a makeshift office, behind the desk is a professionally dressed woman in her mid-fifties. Her reading glasses are balanced on a thin nose that lends her face a vulpine aspect. She raises her head and regards me with her chin in her hand.
“Ms. Taylor? Please have a seat.”
I pull back the chair, grimacing slightly as it scrapes against the raw concrete floor. She waits for me to sit and arrange my dress as best I can and then pulls a sheaf of paper from a desk drawer.
“This is your first time at one of our parties, Ms. Taylor,” she states, not asks. It is clear that whoever is putting on these parties is highly organized and takes a lot of care in their preparations. It doesn’t surprise me that they know their guest list well.
“How much do you know about what happens here?”
The question takes me by surprise. Hannah had been a little vague about the party, but from everything I saw, it looked like a normal, if exclusive, party. I wonder if Hannah got me invited to some kind of sex club, like an Eyes Wide Shut kind of thing. I don’t want to make any assumptions, though, so I don’t suggest anything.
“Umm, not much, I guess. I have a friend who…”
“Hannah,” the woman cuts me off. “Yes, Hannah was with us last month. She didn’t tell you what to expect?”
I shake my head.
“Ok, not a problem,” she says in a tone that indicates that it is definitely a problem. “Ms. Taylor, you have been personally invited by one of our members to take part in an auction.”
“Well, someone must have made a serious mistake, I don’t have any money to bid on anything.”
The woman’s hard, lightly lined face cracks a wry smile.
“My dear, you aren’t here to bid. You are one of the lots.”
My jaw drops down to the floor. I attempt to recover my composure, but find it difficult to process what she just said. Why had Hannah not told me anything? How could she keep something like that quiet? She must have known that I would never have agreed to come if I knew I was going to be auctioned off, but I am shocked and hurt that she would bring me here under false pretenses.
The woman across from me sits quietly, giving me time.
Then it hits me. Hannah’s purse. She said she had come into some money. She must have been auctioned off last month! Why hadn’t she told April or me?
“So, what happens in this…auction?”
“It’s quite simple, really. Our members have the opportunity to bid on the woman, or man, that they desire and then the winner gets to spend the night with them. The bid is then given to the lot, minus our fee, of course.”
I sit quietly for another few moments. My stomach is filled with butterflies turning cartwheels. I feel like I should be incensed, insulted, scandalized. After all, I am not accustomed to taking money for sex. I mean, I sometimes like to split the check on dates just so that there is no quid pro quo implied. But here, there is no implication, it is right out in the open.
My emotions are roiling like a storm-tossed sea. Part of me wants to just get up and walk out, call a cab, and go back to my apartment. But somewhere in the back of my head, a little voice is asking how much I might go for. There is something thrilling, in a weird way, about being bid on, having a room of people desiring me. And then, there is the money.
“Umm, what are the…I mean, how much…”
“It is impossible to predict, of course.” The woman seems to know exactly what I’m stumbling to ask. “Though I would say it is rare to see bids fall below twenty thousand.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head.
“Twenty thousand dollars?”
“We have a very exclusive membership.” The woman smiles. “Now, you will need to decide whether or not you agree to the terms.” She hands me the sheaf of papers. “Of course, there is a non-disclosure agreement we will need you to sign, regardless of whether you stay or go. There is a description of the payment terms. We can have the money wired directly to your bank account or, if you prefer to use an offshore account, we can have payment ready in a number of different currencies.”
I shake my head. “Umm, dollars are fine, I guess.”
“Good, good. Now, will you be staying with us, or should I arrange for a car?”
I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. I am standing at a precipice with the landing below me uncertain at best. But at the same time, I feel drawn to the void. Besides, in the brief time I was in the main room, I saw a bunch of guys that I would probably gladly spend the night with if I had met them at a bar. Why is this so different? And if it comes with a little something extra, well, that isn’t bad either.
What the hell. It’s just one night.
Chapter 9 - Blake
A fleet of town cars shuttle the guests to the party venue. According to Trevor, every party is set up at a different location, to give the whole thing an air of mystery and illicitness. It is funny to think of the rich and powerful gathered here playing pretend at being disaffected teenagers hosting underground raves at abandoned warehouses, but then again, given what is going on, perhaps it isn’t a bad idea to keep the event under wraps.
I come into the main room as it is filling up. Despite the cavernous space, there still seem to be a lot of people gathered here. I grab a whiskey from the bar and do my best to avoid getting drawn into any conversations. Instead, I walk a circuit around the room. I notice a number of new faces, people who weren’t at the pre-party. They must be the ones who will be bid on. It is easy to see why. All are beautiful, each are different. It is as if every possible taste are catered to. I scan everyone in the room, but I don’t see her.
Emma Taylor with her unused Classics degree and her striking green eyes. I find it odd that I am filled with so much desire for a girl I saw for a few minutes at a bar. Maybe it is just the competitive environment, the idea that someone could take her away from me, that is driving me. I do my best to avoid competition, it can bring out the worst in me. I never compete in sailing races or give any thought to who wins design awards. I’ve won several, but I don’t really care. I try to focus on things I am passionate about, to be driven by true desire and not just the desire to win. I worry that this Emma Taylor is going to draw me into a place I don’t want to go.
And yet, I am certain that no matter what, I am going to have her.
A bell rings out over the sound system and the music fades to silence. The lights dim around the outside of the room, shining bright only on the center stage. The milling crowd all turn to face the stage. The crowd offers a smattering of applause as a woman crosses the room and climbs the stairs to stand on the elevated circle.
“Welcome,” she intones in a voice amplified by the speakers surrounding the room. “We are ready to begin. If you would all please take your seats. You will find a tablet there upon which you can make your bids.” Peo
ple start moving toward the broader circle of chairs that surround the stage. I take a seat in the back row and turn on the small tablet computer on the seat. The camera flicks on and then the screen comes to life. It flashes ‘Welcome Blake.’ They must have programmed these with facial recognition. I don’t remember getting scanned for anything, but I guess they were able to set it up from pictures or maybe they did it surreptitiously at the pre-party. The people running this party are definitely sophisticated.
“As soon as everyone is seated, we can begin.” The woman on stage stands patiently, clasping her hands in front of her and turning in a small circle. I get the distinct sense of being in an elementary school classroom as the teacher waits quietly for the children to settle down. There is a palpable excitement in the room. I can’t help but feel caught up in it. This is something I’ve never done before and I have to admit, to myself at least, that I am a little apprehensive.
Satisfied, the woman walks off the stage and music comes up over the speakers.
“Grace Jones,” a voice calls out over the thumping music. A stunning young woman walks up the stairs and stands in the middle of the stage. Her dark brown skin glows against her gold trimmed black dress. My tablet’s screen changes to a short bio of the woman, just like at the pre-party only now there is a button on the screen to enter a bid and a running counter showing the current high. I watch with curiosity as the bid moves up, thousands of dollars ticking by.
Grace takes a slow walk around the circular stage, ensuring that all of the seated guests have a good look at what they are bidding on. She is beautiful, no doubt, but I am only interested in one item at this auction.
The bidding slows and then comes to a stop at forty-one thousand dollars. A timer pops up and counts down from ten. No further bids come in and a small bell sounds over the music. Grace exits the stage and another woman comes up in her place. The process starts over again.
Finally, after a steady stream of attractive women and men have been up to the stage, Emma’s name is called. I sit forward in my chair. The tablet screen flickers and I see her face pop up. Then, the real thing steps lightly onto the stage. She looks different from when I saw her at the bar the other night. Just as beautiful, but more refined, more elegant. I feel a hunger deep inside of me, like I haven’t eaten for days. Her auburn hair falls in loose curls on her bare shoulders. There is a luminance in her green eyes that is more than just the reflection of the stage lights.
I tap in my opening bid. Five thousand. I am quickly outbid. Seven thousand. I can’t see who is bidding against me, but I am sure it is the man I overheard earlier. Well, I did not come here to lose. Ten thousand. Twelve thousand. Emma walks a slow circuit around the stage. I can see in her face that she is a little uneasy. I wonder if she is aware of the furious bidding for her that is going on just below. Another bidder ups the price again, fifteen thousand. The bid continues to jump. I am not going to lose her. Thirty-five thousand. I wasn’t planning on spending this much, but I can’t help it. I want her, and I don’t want anyone else to have her instead of me. The bids keep coming in and I keep responding with more and more. The number on my tablet stops at my last bid. I wait. The countdown appears. It ticks down slowly, too slowly. Finally, it reaches zero. Winning bid – eighty-three thousand dollars. More than I expected, but no matter. She’s mine.
Chapter 10 - Emma
Waiting backstage, my heart starts to thump audibly. I can feel it pulsing throughout my body. I’ve watched a dozen women come back with smiles on their faces and I know some of them have gotten amazing sums of money. But am I really going to be able to do this? And what about what comes next? Am I capable of going through with it?
Before I have time to answer my own question, a woman in black with an earpiece motions to me.
“Emma Taylor?”
I nod.
“You’re up. Have fun, smile, good luck.” Her encouragement is perfunctory, given for at least the thirteenth time tonight and destined to be given another dozen times at least.
I walk out, steadier on my feet than I feel in my stomach. The room is dark except for the illuminated stage. Electronic music is playing over the loudspeakers. I follow the marked pathway and carefully ascend the short staircase. I am not very used to wearing heels and I would prefer not to fall on my face.
Up on stage, I am alone in a sea of darkness. The lights on me are warm, but diffuse. My eyes start to adjust as I walk around the circular stage. After a few moments, I can begin to make out faces in the crowd. I am surprised at how young everyone looks. And then I see him. A face I recognize.
I almost stumble, but continue walking around the stage. When I come back around, I look again. I’m sure this time. It is the guy who was staring at me in the bar the other night. Had he invited me to this auction? I mean, I probably would have gone out with him had he just asked me at the bar without the need for all of this.
Not hearing anyone bid is nerve-wracking. It is taking quite a while, it seems, so I guess that is a good thing. But on the other hand, it might just seem like a long time since I came up here. Finally, a little bell sounds indicating the bidding is done. I look over at the guy from the bar on my way off the stage and he gives me a little smile.
I head backstage and am immediately shepherded down a long hallway that I hadn’t seen before. The woman escorting me leads me to a door and ushers me in.
“Congratulations, your winning bid was eighty-three thousand. One of the higher ones. The bidder will be here shortly. If there are any issues, please press the red button on the wall over there and someone will be here immediately.”
My jaw drops to the floor.
“Wait,” I say as she turns to walk away. “Who had the winning bid?”
She looks down at her tablet. “Blake Ericson.”
I thank her and she walks away. I turn around and walk into the room. It is dominated by a large bed covered in dark red textiles.
The door swings open and he is there in the doorway. I am frozen for a moment. I recognize his face, but seeing him here, dressed in a suit that fits over his obviously muscular body like it was sewn on, I realize just how lucky I am that he’s the one who placed the winning bid.
“Emma.” His voice is throaty, guttural, thick with desire. “I, uh, well…I guess I bought you.”
I let out a little laugh, unable to resist the strangeness of the situation. Luckily, he laughs as well, breaking the tension. Now that I am committed to this, and that I know who I will be with, I am eager to get started. But nowhere close to as eager as Blake.
He crosses to me in two swift strides and takes my shoulders in his hands. His grip is powerful, but gentle. He pulls me close to him and plants his lips on my neck, just below my ear. Even though I had been preparing myself for this moment, I am still shocked when it comes. But his kisses send little electrical flashes radiating through my body. I can feel my muscles clench and relax. He takes my earlobe in between his lips and gives it a little tug, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from me.
I know there is still music thumping throughout the warehouse, but right now, I can’t hear anything other than the beat of my heart and the sounds of our breathing, which is becoming quicker and more ragged every moment.
Blake lets go of my shoulders and slides one of his hands down, settling in the small of my back. He pulls me in even closer. I can feel him. It presses against me, hard and long. Almost without my will, my hips start to rock back and forth, grinding against him. He gives a low groan of approval as he continues to kiss my neck.
It feels like our bodies are stuck together for eternity, but we both seem to realize at the same time that there is something in the way. He lets me go and we take a step away from each other. Blake whips off his jacket and begins unbuttoning his shirt. I reach up behind my back and slide down the long zipper.
His shirt falls to the floor and I stop a moment to stare. This guy is paying to be with me? His torso looks like it should be in a museum of classical sc
ulpture. There is not a spare inch of flesh, everything is lean, rippling muscle. I drop my dress to the floor. He is looking at me hungrily. I start to move forward to touch him again, but he stops me with a quick hand motion.
“Wait, I want to look at you.”
I feel like I should be awkward, or nervous. But the only thing I feel is wanted, desired. I can almost feel the pressure of his gaze as it lingers on my breasts, my hipbones, and caresses me between my legs. I reach behind me to unhook my bra. He licks his lips unconsciously.
Finally, it seems like he is unable to wait any longer. I know I don’t feel like delaying. He takes a step forward and wraps his hands around my waist, lifting me into the air and tossing me backward onto the bed.
He catches my legs before they come down, placing them on either of his broad shoulders. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my panties and pulls them straight up and over my feet. I can feel the cool air of the warehouse between my thighs. I had gotten more hot and wet than I’d realized. Blake seems to notice. He looks down with a grin and quickly drops his head, burying his face in my sex.
After only a minute, I pull him up. I want him inside me before I come. He seems to understand what I want instinctively. He rears up, towering above me. I watch, my hips rocking and rotating in anticipation as he undoes his belt and pants. He lowers his briefs and his erection springs free. Immediately I almost regret it. It is huge! But my desire quickly overcomes any reservations.
Acquired Page 4
