Sold on Spring Break: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance

by CA Quigg

  My cock hardens a bit just thinking about it.

  There are only so many girls who are into the kind of sex I appreciate. Only so many who can take it from me. Who can let me do what I need to do to them.

  There is a small pool to choose from and I appreciate them all, without getting close to any of them— which is the whole point of everything.

  I always like when someone starts at the Exchange. It’s rare to find a new girl willing to put up with my preferences, my needs and desires. But I hope this new girl is one of them.

  Because as I head towards the door I hear my dad clucking his tongue and saying, “We’re going to talk later, Son.”

  And I know that my days of frequenting The Exchange may be numbered.

  This new girl had better let me take her. And I don’t mean to dinner.

  Chapter 4 – Celeste

  I’m running late by the time I arrive at The Exchange and I’m worried that I’ll get Rachel in trouble. But no one seems to notice.

  “Right this way,” says a security guard, walking me to a curtained-off room where beautiful women are milling about. Some are drinking out of cocktail or wine glasses while others are applying their makeup or doing their hair.

  “Hello,” says a high-pitched, nasal voice. I turn around to see a tall, skinny brunette, her hand outstretched. “I’m Bianca.”

  “Celeste,” I tell her, shaking her hand.

  She snaps her fingers and a tuxedo-clad waiter walks over to us holding a tray full of drinks.

  “Oh I…” I start to protest, but she picks up one of the glasses and hands it to me.

  “You must be new,” she says, looking me up and down. I can’t tell whether the look is meant to be approving or not. “I haven’t seen you around.”

  Before I can answer, she clinks her glass against mine.

  “Cheers. You’ll probably want this,” she insists.

  I smile and then take a drink with her, the fruity liquid burning its way down my throat. I do my best not to grimace. It’s not like I’m an alcohol virgin.

  I’ve had my share of wild drunken nights drinking wine coolers at high school parties. Rachel and I have had hot toddies at her apartment or a couple rum and cokes in my dorm room. I’ve even been to a frat party. I just don’t particularly like drinking because I like to remain in control of all my faculties.

  “I’m filling in for Rachel tonight,” I tell her.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. Suddenly her look definitely looks approving. Impressed, even. “She told me she’d asked you to come in her place so she could spend Valentine’s Day with her boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, instead of a lecherous old rich dude,” I joke.

  The smile falls from her face and I realize that probably sounded judgmental. I should keep my comments to myself. I hate how socially awkward I always turn out to be.

  “They’re all rich but they’re definitely not all old,” Bianca says. “Or not that old, anyway. Actually, many are trust fund guys or self-made tech billionaires. Some are nerdy, but others are charming, and quite handsome to boot.”

  “Oh,” I tell her, trying to dig myself out of a hole. “I was just kidding. About them being super old. And about anything else I might have said that might have been taken the wrong way. Sorry about that. I’m nervous.”

  “In fact,” Bianca continues with a shrug, as she takes another sip of her drink, “A lot of us wish we could date these guys. I know your BFF Rachel did, before she found her own rich guy who doesn’t know about her deep dark secret job.”

  “She did?” I ask, annoyed that there was something this smug girl knows about Rachel that I didn’t.

  I can’t tell if Bianca is being threatening, or welcoming. I know I probably offended her with my comment. And I’m glad that anyone here is talking to me. I just never trust people and can never be sure of their intentions.

  “Yeah, but Rachel suffers from the same problem that most of us do,” Bianca says, with another shrug.

  “And what is that?” I ask.

  “She’s a bit too wild and experienced for these guys to take seriously. It’s a conundrum, no doubt. Most girls only work here because they’re sexually open. But most guys who come here only seriously date the shy, innocent types. So I think you’ll do well here.”

  She raises her eyebrows at me knowingly.

  “What do you mean?” I ask her, feeling stupid.

  “Oh, just… you know,” she says, smirking. “You’re new here. You seem innocent. And you’re a virgin, right?”

  I can feel the heat rushing to my face and I know it’s turning red.

  “I… um…”

  Damn Rachel .

  She’s never had much of a filter but I can’t believe she told her co-workers— or at least this Bianca chick I’ve never heard of— that I’m a virgin. That’s a private fact about me. It’s not hers to share.

  I would call and curse her out— even if she is at the dinner where she hopes to receive a marriage proposal— if we were allowed to have phones in here. Since we’re not, I’d left mine in the car and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to go out there and get it. But the first chance I have, I’m going to let her know how I feel.

  I don’t have time to think any further about it— or to further answer Bianca’s prying question, because an older woman in a ball gown— the Madame?, I can’t help but wonder —clinks a spoon against her wine glass and calls out, “Okay ladies, time to get this show on the road.”

  Bianca pats my shoulder, as if to tell me I don’t have to formally her answer her question— she already knows. Then she says, “Don’t forget your bracelet, hon.”

  “Oh yeah,” I reply, looking around until my eyes fall on a table in the corner that has different colored bracelets lined up in rows. I had imagined paper or rubber bracelets like the kind given out at skating rinks or clubs, to show who has paid or who is old enough to drink. Silly me. These are sparkling diamond bracelets, with different colored gems accenting the diamonds. “Rachel said to get a yellow one.”

  “You want a pink one tonight dear,” Bianca says.

  I look at her, distrusting her words.

  How I wish I had a phone, and that I could confirm with Rachel. I had never been able to figure out why she had told me to wear a yellow one, or what it all even means.

  “But Rachel said—” I insist.

  “You were late and you didn’t hear Terri’s announcement about it being Valentine’s Day,” Bianca says, in a rush, as if she’s already tired of helping me. She nods towards the lady who had told us to get the show on the road. “Tonight there are only Valentine’s colors and a different system.”

  I look at the bracelets lined up on the table. Bianca’s right. There aren’t any yellow ones. Just red, pink and white.

  Bianca winks at me as she holds open the curtain that leads out onto the stage. I guess I’m going to have to trust this tall, meddling stranger, because I don’t have any other choice.

  I gulp the rest of my drink down. Suddenly the waiter is back at my side.

  “A shot, dear?” he asks, holding up a small glass full of clear liquid.

  It’s tempting. I don’t know what awaits me out there and the cocktail I just finished sure feels good swirling around inside my veins and my mind. Helping me not think too much, not ask too many questions like I usually do.

  I look over at Bianca, who is waiting for me to join her. I’m afraid she’ll disapprove because we don’t have time, but she nods at me and winks, as if knowing how much I need this drink.

  “I don’t really do shots…” I start to say, and the waiter places the tray on the table and holds up a smaller size glass full of the cocktail I’d just finished.

  “That’s why we have this chaser,” he assures me.

  “Okay, thanks,” I tell him, pounding down the shot and then gulping the chaser before I can feel it hit my stomach.

  This time I can’t hide my grimace. It was rough, but I’m alr
eady grateful for it as I relax a little bit more. I think about the guys waiting out there to bid on the pleasure of my company, and maybe more. Are they really handsome, and rich, and enviable, like Bianca says?

  My heart skips a beat as I finish the chaser and hand it back to the waiter with another nod of thanks.

  Then I grab the pink bracelet and hurry to catch up with Bianca, anxious to see what awaits me beyond the curtain.

  Chapter 5 – Maxim

  I watch the girls file out onto the stage, but I know all of them. None of them are the new girl.

  Where is she?

  I didn’t come here tonight to be with any of the women lined up in front of me. I could take any woman I wanted to dinner on Valentine’s Day. I could have an Ivy League educated debutante with whom to discuss politics, science or literature over wine and caviar.

  I could fly her to my cabin in Aspen where we could ski all day and fuck all night. I could marry her and have three gorgeous babies and live happily ever after.

  If I were just a normal man, even a normal filthy rich man, I could do any of these things. But I’m not a normal filthy rich man. I’m Maxim Drier. I have particular predilections. And that’s why I come to this club.

  I want a woman who will let me tie her up and spank her ass until it’s red and welted. I want a woman who will moan out of both pleasure and pain while the switches hit her bare skin and then beg me for more. And then I want to walk away from that woman and never have to see her any more unless I want to pay her to do it all over again.

  Just when I’m beginning to think it was a lost cause and then I should just go home, I finally see the woman I’m hoping will be all that and more for me tonight. She walks hesitantly out onto the stage, following Bianca. She looks timid, out of place, and totally fucking gorgeous.

  My cock gets half hard at the mere sight of her. She has wisps of sandy brown hair falling down over her blue eyes and I want to tug on them while I fuck her from behind. She has the best figure I’ve ever seen: hourglass shaped with a curvy ass and full breasts. She has pale skin with beautiful red coloring in her cheeks.

  I immediately look for her bracelet, to see what color it is, but she’s still fiddling with putting it on. It seems to take forever for me to be able to see its color, and my heart nearly pounds out of my chest when I see what it is: pink.

  I search my memory of last week, when Bianca told me about the Valentine’s Day auction. I’m almost positive she told me pink meant they were down for everything. And I do mean everything.

  White is the normal yellow— dinner only, how boring. I don’t even bid on those girls. If they’re so chaste and shy they shouldn’t be working at a place like this. I don’t want to corrupt their innocence with my dirty, filthy way. Red is still red— normal sex. I used to consider girls on this level but it was a fucking tease, and a bore. So now I only go for girls wearing orange bracelets, which I’m pretty sure are purple tonight. That means they’ll do anal sex and some BDSM. Nothing too crazy. Nothing like I like to do. But enough that it suffices. More than girls outside the club are usually willing to do— which is why I like to come here.

  And then sometimes, on special nights like tonight, they change everything around and there’s a new level. Tonight that level is signified by the pink bracelet—or at least I hope it is. Pink means I can do what I want with the girl who wears it. Any kind of freaky, kinky BDSM. I could lock her in a basement and keep her as my sex slave for a week if I wanted to, not that I would. A girl with a pink bracelet is mine for the taking, and the keeping. I’ve not only bought her body but her soul.

  But I had been so excited to hear about the new girl coming on Valentine’s Day that the rest of what Bianca said had all mixed together in a blur. So I could be wrong about the colors, and I’m second-guessing it now that the new girl is wearing one. My understanding is that she’s filling in for Rachel, who is usually a yellow- bracelet dinner- only type of girl. It’s odd that a brand new girl would jump to the hardcore BDSM type level of service, especially when the girl she’s replacing wasn’t one of those girls.

  Luckily, Terri is coming my way.

  “Maxim, so glad you could make it,” she says, sidling up to me and whispering in my ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I have some good news for you.”

  “I have a question first,” I ask her.

  “Of course,” she says. “Anything you need, just ask.”

  I’m their biggest spender. She’d do anything to make me happy. But only the new girl can do that tonight.

  “I’m just making sure I understand the color system tonight,” I whisper. “The bracelet color representing the level I most like to purchase is now… pink… correct?”

  I’m almost afraid to ask, thinking for sure that the answer is no.

  But she just nods and smiles.

  “Yes, Maxim, that’s the level you prefer. And as always we appreciate your patronage.”

  Now my cock is standing at full attention, imagining the many different ways it wants to defile and degrade the innocent-looking girl standing on stage.

  I can’t believe someone who looks like she does— and who just showed up here for her first time, ostensibly standing in for a friend— would let me do that. But I suppose she knows the price tag is very high. And maybe she needs to pay for college. My money will pay for that and then some.

  “And Bianca shared some good news with me,” Terri continues.

  I look at her, intrigued. What other good news could there be, now that I know this girl will let me do what I want with her?

  Bianca is one of the top girls at the club and helps Terri keep things running smoothly. She gathers intelligence among the girls and passes the word on to Terri so that Terri can let clients such as me know things that are of import to us. So I’m interested to hear what Bianca has found out about the sweet young thing waiting for me to buy her.

  Terri leans in very close and cups her hand up around my ear.

  “She’s a virgin,” she says.

  “What?”

  I say this too loud, and the man next to me clears his throat, as he’s straining to hear the announcements being made on stage. It’s all old hat to me— they’re stating the opening bid for the first girl. But I just found out that the one I want has never been touched. I wish I could say to him, Excuse me for being just a bit excited.

  “That’s what Bianca says,” Terri repeats, with a satisfied smile on her face.

  I do my best to act restrained. I don’t want her to think I’m inclined to spend any more at her club than the outrageous amount that I already do. I know she’s about to go whisper the same “good news” into the ears of another few potential bidders and I know she knows I’ll be the one to win the bidding. So she already knows I’ll spend a fortune tonight.

  “I’m going to be needing the Enclave tonight,” I inform her, mentioning a private room where high-paying patrons take a girl when they want to skip the pretense of dinner and get down to the important matters on the agenda for the evening.

  “I figured as much,” she says, nodding as if it was a given. “And I’d already reserved it for your use tonight.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her, returning my full attention to the girl on stage.

  She’s lovely and innocent and she has no idea what’s in store for her tonight once I buy her time, her body, her heart and her soul. It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m going to make her mine. In every way possible.

  Chapter 6 – Celeste

  “You’re up,” Bianca says, nudging me towards the front of the stage.

  I’ve felt frozen in a mixture of fear and excitement since I got out here. But now I force my feet to walk in the direction of the “auctioneer.” I still can’t get over how crazy all of this is.

  “Next up we have Rach— wait a second,” the auctioneer says, as he reads his notes. Bianca walks over to him and whispers something in his ear.

  “Standing in for Rachel tonight, we have the lovely Celes
te,” the auctioneer continues. “She is a nineteen-year-old university student studying political science and creative writing, who seeks a career in journalism enjoys playing the guitar and listening to music.”

  Rachel must have given him that bio, and it’s not exactly accurate. I haven’t played the guitar since high school. And I already have a job in journalism. I won an award from my school’s journalism department that led to a part-time gig writing for the Phoenix Independent about political ethics.

  In fact, if anyone from my job found out I was here— doing this— I might get fired. On the other hand, I think, squinting out into the audience, I’m sure there are some high-up politicians here and that this little gig could lead to a great expose.

  “She’s wearing a pink bracelet,” the auctioneer announces, which reminds me that I can’t expose them for much, since I’m only going to be having Valentine’s Day dinner with them. “This is her first time here at The Exchange. We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand dollars.”

  I look up at the auctioneer, trying hard not to let my mouth fall open in amazement.

  Ten thousand dollars?

  Someone is going to pay that much just have dinner with me?

  “Here,” someone says, and I locate the man in the audience who is holding up a heart-shaped sign, indicating that he is placing a bid.

  He’s staring right at me— as are most of the other men right now, of course, since I’m in the process of being auctioned off— but my eyes immediately lock on his. He’s so attractive. Rachel was right.

  “I’ve got ten thousand dollars, can I get fifteen thousand dollars?” the auctioneer says, and someone else raises their sign.

  I look over to that man but he is short and pudgy. So I turn my eyes back to the first bidder. Please, my eyes beg him. Please bid higher. Don’t make me have dinner with that guy.