Heartstopper

by Lauren Landish

  I glance around the room, the memories of the club coming back to me, but I stop when I see a man I recognize. It's not because I’ve seen him here before. Joe Levi. He has a mask on, but his sharp features are distinct, and his mannerisms are the same. He’s a crook; a mobster, a villain. This room and club are filled with men of power and wealth, but a membership isn’t something that can simply be purchased. There’s a background check and a training course that must be completed first. Madam Lynn is out to protect the women here just as much as she aims to profit, but seeing Joe makes me question that.

  I gesture slightly toward him, catching Isaac’s eye.

  “He’s been here about three months now,” he answers, and his voice is low.

  “Are his tastes what I’ve heard them to be?” I ask soft enough that our conversation can’t be heard by anyone else. Zander can hear, but he lets Isaac answer.

  “He only comes to the auctions.”

  I nod in response and look back over to him.

  “He’s yet to buy anyone.” Isaac's words settle in me as I take in the other buyers. Some I know, some I don’t. The only one I’d rather not have in this room is Joe. But that’s not my call.

  “Are you suddenly in the buying mood?” Zander asks me. He’s a man who fucking belongs in that suit. He was practically raised in it. Zander’s from wealth; he oozes high class, and his neat black bow tie is the cherry on top. As a wall street mogul and heir to a sizable fortune, the designer look and gold cufflinks fit him well. With sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes, his classically handsome look makes him fit in with this exclusive crowd. Isaac belongs here as well, but his suit is caging in a beast who wants out. That’s the difference between them.

  “I need a distraction,” I finally answer.

  “It’s good to see you back on the horse,” Isaac says with a smirk.

  I huff a small grunt of a laugh. “I’ve just been busy.”

  Zander smiles at my response and looks as though he’s contemplating opening his smart mouth for a response, but he doesn’t. Instead he rests his elbows on the table and looks to the stage.

  “Have you two already picked out who you’ll be bidding on?” I ask. Although I’ve seen them at events and at a poker night here and there, no one’s spoken about Club X or any Submissives or partners recently.

  Isaac shrugs, moving his eyes from the stage to me as he answers, “I’m here more for the company. Just biding my time until the show tonight.”

  “Anything interesting?” I ask.

  He raises his eyebrow and his blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he says, “Fire play.”

  “Ah,” I answer and choose not to expand on my thoughts. I have no interest in fire play or anything that could cause serious scarring. No whips, no fire, no spikes or knives. My brow furrows, and I sit a little more comfortably in my seat.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist there, Lucian,” Isaac says with a grin that shows off his white teeth.

  “Fuck off,” I say easily.

  The guys laugh, and I feel a little more at ease.

  “Seriously,” Zander says, “it’s good to see you here.”

  I give him a simple nod. It is nice to be back. I can feel the adrenaline scorching my blood, and it’s intoxicating.

  I haven’t been back since before Tricia. My ex-wife. I took her here a few times for some shows to see how things were performed. I let her pick out her favorites. The memory turns the corners of my lips down, and the excitement dims. But I shake it off, clearing my throat and ridding my mind of all thoughts of her.

  I flip through the pamphlet, leaning back in my chair and scanning the verbiage I’ve read a time or two before.

  There are strict guidelines that must be adhered to by both buyer/seller to gain entry and to continue membership.

  Membership is one hundred thousand per month and allows members to attend auctions and enjoy all the privileges of membership.

  All parties are clean and agreeing to sexual activities and must provide proof of birth control.

  The women are displayed and purchased in an auction setting with a starting bid of five hundred thousand. Subsequent bids will be in increments of one hundred thousand dollars.

  NDAs are required, and paperwork will be signed after the purchase.

  Any hard limits are noted at auction and will be written in the individual contracts.

  The rose color of the Submissive indicates her preferences, so please take note.

  Pink - Virgin

  Cream - Finding limits/BDSM virgin

  Yellow - Simple bondage D/s

  Black - Carte blanche

  Red - Pain is preferred S/M

  No flower - 24/7 power exchange

  The buyers must adhere to all rules of the club, or they will be banned and prosecuted. Submissives must also obey all rules, or buyers can take legal action and no money will be paid.

  With the accepted terms and conditions, the willing participants of this auction are as follows:

  As I turn the page to read about the women and their desires, the lights darken and a loud click prefaces the thick red velvet curtains opening slightly and the auctioneer walking onto the stage.

  The auction is starting.

  Chapter 8

  Dahlia

  Just relax and everything will be fine, I tell myself as I step into a room backstage to prepare for the auction.

  There's a group of scantily-clad girls already getting ready, and some of them are naked, looking through a rack of skimpy outfits to find which one suits them best. None of them appear to be nervous like I am, or at least they’re very good at hiding it.

  If they can be cool and collected under pressure, so can I.

  I suck in a deep breath, my palms moist with perspiration, my heart racing, and try to calm my nerves. I have to get a hold of myself. I don’t want to walk out on stage and wind up fainting because I’ve worked myself up into a tizzy. I can do this. I just have to keep telling myself how much I need this experience.

  Trying to ignore my anxiety, I make my way over to an unattended clothing rack near the rear of the room. I begin sifting through outfits, looking for one that best matches my personality. After a moment of searching, I let out a huff of frustration. I don’t see anything that I think looks better than what I already have on. But I have to find something. And quick. The auction is only minutes away.

  Just try on something. Anything. I’m sure it will look okay.

  I’m about to snatch a red dress off the rack when the sound of clicking heels causes me to turn around. She walks toward me with confidence; a woman in charge of her destiny. Her blonde hair is styled elegantly, her makeup flawlessly dramatic. She struts toward me as if she owns the place, her scarlet red dress clinging to her impressive curves with each step.

  Madam Lynn. It has to be.

  She stops in front of me, her face brightening into a friendly smile, and extends her hand. “Miss Days, what a pleasure it is to meet you.” She shakes her head as if in wonder. “The picture in the email you sent doesn’t do you justice. You are far, far more beautiful in person.” She speaks with a polish that sounds very professional, something you wouldn’t expect from a woman who profits from sex and submission for a living.

  My cheeks become rosy at her compliment. “Thank you, Madam Lynn,” I say, taking her hand and shaking it. Her hands are soft and warm like her personality. I’m surprised that this woman seems so down-to-earth, considering the awesome wealth that makes up her club. I originally pictured a snobby woman with her nose stuck so far up in the air that she wouldn’t know what down was, even if she fell flat on her face.

  Madam Lynn flashes me another warm smile filled with straight, sparkling white teeth. “You are very much welcome.”

  I finger my newbie Sub bracelet nervously, wondering why she’s here to greet me personally. Had I done something wrong, like unknowingly violated a rule while on my tour with Bruce and Carla? It would be just my luck.


  Seeing my worried expression, Madam Lynn waves away my concern. “You’re fine, dear. This is simply protocol. I check on all my girls before every auction to make sure everything's running smoothly, and no one is having second thoughts.” She pauses and peers at me with concern. “You aren’t having those… are you?”

  Of course I am. But I’m not telling you that. “No, I’m good,” I blurt out almost immediately. I cringe at how fraudulent I sound and wait for a response.

  Madam Lynn simply smiles, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Good to hear. I think you’re going to make a fabulous Submissive, and will make a very lucky Dom super happy.”

  Her words fill me with a confidence that I haven’t felt all night, and I’m grateful for her encouragement. “Thank you, Madam Lynn,” I say respectfully.

  Madam Lynn nods. “Mmmhmm.” She begins to turn away, but then stops. “Miss Days?”

  “Yes?”

  She points to a skimpy gold sheer number on the tail end of the rack. “Might I suggest that one for you? I think it will look good on you, and serve to enhance your beauty. It fits your personality perfectly. I’d stick around to see you try it on, but I need to go check on the other ladies before time runs out.” She winks at me in parting. “Good luck at the auction.”

  I watch as she glides off and begins talking to other women in the room before my eyes fall on the dress she picked for me. It looks okay enough, but I won’t see what it really is like until I try it on. I take it off the rack and examine it. Gold and sparkly. There are large gaps in the material, and it’s more revealing than what I have on. Blushing, I undress behind the rack, hiding from the other women, and then slip into it, enjoying the feel of the soft material against my skin. I walk over to a large mirror and then suck in a sharp breath when I see myself. The gold material sparkles against the light, enhancing my figure and tanned skin in ways I didn’t think possible, making me look utterly gorgeous.

  Madam Lynn was right. This looks perfect on me. It’s flattering in all the right ways. It’s sheer, but the metallic color hides my body well, compared to the other women in the room. I look around at them all crowding around the vanities and chatting away. It’s almost like what I’d imagine a strip club could be. Or a burlesque show. My heart pounds harder in my chest, and I pace my breathing as I calm myself down.

  I’ll have to remember to thank her after the auction. And also ask if I can keep this dress.

  “Please check over the pamphlet one more time and make sure everything is accurate,” a heavyset woman with greying hair pulled into a bun says behind me, startling me.

  I’ve read this pamphlet over and over. The sheer amount of paperwork I’ve had to fill out and read is exhausting. My stomach churns as I remember the psychological section. There was a box for me to write in. I was supposed to disclose my problem. I didn’t. I suck in a sharp breath as a lump grows in my throat.

  I reach out and take the pamphlet, trying to catch my breath. I need to get a hold of myself. I open it up and read through the small description of me, and the list of kinks and fetishes I’m willing to try.

  As I look through the rest of the pamphlet, I begin to feel like a prostitute. I try to push the thought from my mind as I take a seat at one of the chairs lining the wall, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m selling out. Cheapening myself. Just because there’s a written contract involved, how is this any different than selling myself for sex?

  I can end up being a rich guy’s perverted fuck toy and nothing more and hating myself after the contract is over.

  The thought makes me sick. It’s because of my money troubles that I’m thinking like this. And I have to be honest with myself--the money is tempting, and would solve so many problems in my life so easily. I want to cry for thinking about myself that way. But that’s not what this is for me. This is much more than just some easy money. And if this turns out to be anything less than what I want for myself, I’ll walk away from it all. The money doesn’t matter. I need more from this. I need the fantasy. My body heats, and my pussy pulses with need.

  I can’t back out now. I have to go through with this. Carla’s gone through this same process, and look how happy she is with Bruce. She’s a successful career woman by day, and a perfect Submissive by night. Looking at her, you would never guess she's leading a double life. Using her as an example, I really should have nothing to worry about. I have to believe that this will help heal me, even if the man who buys me doesn’t know about my problems. He gets off on his sexual fantasies, I get the money and continue with the therapy that will help me. It’s mutually beneficial for the both of us. A win-win.

  Feeling slightly better, I close the pamphlet. And not a moment too soon. The large woman who handed me the pamphlet is suddenly herding all the women in the room together.

  “It’s time, ladies,” she announces. “Good luck with the auction tonight.”

  As I line up with the other women, it’s obvious that the rest of them have done this before and they all know each other well. I pull at the hem of my dress as the women in charge call out names. I’m the second name called, and I force my legs to move as I walk to the front of the line. I peek out as she opens the door, but the curtains are closed. The floor of the stage is a shiny dark wood, and the walls are covered with a thick wallpaper with a subtle cream paisley pattern. Other than the gorgeous wallpaper, the stage is empty. There’s no detail whatsoever. It lacks the details and luxury that the rest of the club has in every other room.

  I suppose the only detail on the stage will be each woman as she takes her turn in the auction.

  “You seem very nervous,” a woman behind me says. The blonde woman in front of me turns around, and the two women look at me, waiting for me to respond.

  “A little,” I breathe. No shit I am. Who wouldn’t be?

  “Relax, you’ll make good money, and it’s so much fucking fun.”

  The woman in front of me lets out a small laugh and then smooths her red dress. The dress itself is provocative. The deep V in front dips so low that it nearly shows her belly button, and there’s no back at all to the halter dress. It’s so revealing, but it suits her well. “It’s always a good time, and all the times I’ve been in the auction, I’ve never seen a woman not have a man bid on her.”

  The woman behind me nods her head and leans forward to peek at the empty stage. “I already know who’s going to be bidding on me this time.”

  “Your boyfriend?” I ask. The women laugh, and my insecurity is almost unbearable.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, and I’m not interested in one,” she answers with confidence.

  The woman in front of me looks at me as though she’s wondering why I’d even mention a relationship. I feel fucking sick to my stomach, but I close my eyes and remember this is just sex. Good sex. Sex that’s going to give me what I need. When I open my eyes again, I see the woman in front of me smiling.

  “That’s what you should be focusing on,” she says with a knowing look. “Just enjoy yourself,” she concludes as her eyes roam my body and she looks out beyond the door to the stage once more.

  Madam Lynn opens the entrance door behind us with a clipboard in her hand, and a petite brunette in bright pink high heels in tow. She looks like she’s struggling to keep up with Madam Lynn’s confident stride toward the front.

  “Alright, ladies,” Madam Lynn doesn’t look up from the board as she walks toward the stage with everyone turning to face her. “We’ll have Madeline first,” she announces, then looks up and lets a playful smile grace her lips. “I wonder who you’ll be going home to tonight?” she asks beneath her breath with a raised eyebrow. I didn’t even think about leaving the club. I look around the room again and notice all the duffel bags. There are only a few. But it looks like some women have packed an overnight bag. Shit. For the first time since I’ve seen her, the beautiful woman in front of me actually blushes. “Dahlia, you’ll be next,” she says as she turns to me, and I can feel everyone’s
eyes on me.

  Madam Lynn’s eyes travel down my body and then back up to meet mine as she brushes the hair out of my face. “Let’s keep your hair behind you and not cover up your breasts. Take your bra off as well.” She moves on, continuing to list the ladies and doing a thorough check of each as my heart sputters in my chest. Another assistant is carrying a handful of roses, ten total, in a variety of colors. She passes each girl a rose in turn. I carefully take the cream-colored rose as she hands it to me. Although the thorns are gone, I still feel as though simply holding the rose in my hand is going to hurt me.

  I step out of line and reach behind my back to unclip the bra and let it fall. My breasts are perky, but they sag slightly from their weight. I look in the mirror, feeling even more self-conscious.

  “You’re beautiful, Dahlia.” I turn to face the woman behind me. “These men know what real women look like.”

  I clear my throat, taking my spot back in line and trying not to hide myself, fiddling with the soft petals of the rose. “Thank you,” I say as confidently as I can.

  The urge to cross my arms is strong, but I fight it.

  “Madeline,” Madam Lynn calls out her name as she opens the door wide. “Let’s go, my dear.”

  Madeline walks confidently out onto the stage and I walk quickly to take her place behind the door. Madam Lynn’s hand is firm on Madeline’s shoulder as they walk, their heels clicking and Madam Lynn whispering in Madeline’s ear. She finally releases her, lining her up in the center of the stage.

  It’s so bright. Spotlights are shining on her body, and their intensity makes the dress pointless. You can see everything. Fuck. The breath is stolen from my lungs as I look down at my own dress and hear a microphone being turned on.

  “Welcome, gentlemen, it’s time for the auction.” At Madam Lynn’s words, the curtains slowly open and Madeline straightens her shoulders, standing tall for all the men to see.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I prepare for the auction to start.