by Naomi West
She set her purse back down. Tonight could solve her money problems. Though, maybe she wouldn’t be dressed scantily enough to bring in top dollars, she would get a lot more than what she could make waitressing. One night with a strange man that hopefully wouldn’t last too long or be too awful, in exchange for keeping her son in his school. It was worth it. She had to make sure Ian would be successful in life and not end up like she had—a single parent working two jobs just to pay the bills. He deserved better than this difficult life.
A man stepped into the room, dressed in a button-down shirt and tie. “We’re gettin’ started ladies!”
A flurry of commotion broke out among the women as they scrambled for final makeup and hair additions.
“Line up!” the man said.
The girls gathered in front of him, looking like a line of strippers ready to go out and do their thing. Sara made her way over and stood at the end of the line. The woman in front of her turned and looked at her clothes.
“What are you trying to pull wearing that?” she asked.
“Pull? I just can’t…”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “Can’t what, dress like a slut? That what you think? We’re all sluts?”
Sara’s face went hot and she shook her head. “I’ve never done this before.”
The woman patted her shoulder. “It gets easier. Try to enjoy it and pray he finishes quick.”
She turned back around and Sara’s breathing sped. How was she going to do this?
The man led the women out of the room and to a backstage area, where they were able to peak out at the crowd a bit.
“Ooo, some hot ones tonight!” the girl at the front of the line said.
The woman in front of her said, “Like that matters. I just want someone who doesn’t smell.”
The first woman went out on stage. The man introduced her as Trixie. He talked about how hot and sexy she was with her full figure. Then the bidding started. Sara watched in awe as the men raised their hands and shouted numbers. By the time the emcee said, “Sold!” the price had gone up to $4,200.
Sara leaned forward to the woman in front of her. “How do we get paid?”
“Club keeps 20, the rest he’ll give you after.”
“20%?”
The woman nodded. Sara did some quick math. If the club took 20%, then that meant the woman leaving the stage would get $3,360. Her heart raced at that. If she could get close to that, she’d be set. Was there any way she would get what Trixie had gotten?
Now the whole process became much more interesting. Each time a new woman went out on the stage, Sara calculated how much she would walk away with and tried to decide if she was as hot as the woman and could possibly get a similar amount. She again considered her outfit. If she took off the dress, she might get a lot more money.
She reached down to pull up her hem, but stopped. It was bad enough that she would be going out there to have a bunch of men bid on the chance to have sex with her. She couldn’t possibly stand out there in her underwear and let them gawk at her. Even if it meant a little less money, she’d have to deal with it. Some of these women were getting bids as high as six thousand. If she got even half that, she’d be happy.
The woman in front of her went out and ended at $5,500. Then it was Sara’s turn. The anxiety in her stomach had built with each woman, as it came closer and closer to being her turn. Now her stomach leapt and she almost threw up. She swallowed hard and looked at the man on the stage. He motioned for her to come out and stand by him.
She took a few breaths and he had to motion to her a second time before she took the first step, then another, until she faced the crowd. She felt both naked and too heavily dressed at the same time. They had to all be imagining her naked. What if they tried to make her take off her dress? Well, she’d leave if that happened.
The man held out his arm to gesture to her. “Meet Cinnamon. She’s just as sweet as can be.”
Cinnamon? Where in the world had he gotten that? She was a little relieved he hadn’t used her real name. As she thought about it, she figured that probably Trixie and Crystal weren’t real names either.
“Take her home and lick her all over.”
A few men in the crowd hooted at that and the thought made her blush again. She dared a glance out at the men. Several were making leering faces at her, licking their lips suggestively. One grabbed his crotch and winked at her.
This must be some sort of biker club. There had been a ton of bikes outside and it seemed like all these guys wore leather of some kind. Jackets, pants, boots. Did that mean they were all rough and hard? She’d never known a biker, but the impression she had of them from TV was that they weren’t the nicest people. They were mean and violent. And this was the type of man she would be sleeping with tonight. For a lot of money, she reminded herself.
“Who will start the bidding for this piece of sweetness?”
Well, no turning back now. Please bid high, she begged.
A man right at the front, the one who had grabbed himself at her, put up his hand and said, “A thousand bucks!”
Wow, that was a nice start. Some of the other women had only started at a few hundred. But a thousand right at the first bid was a good sign. That man, though. She looked at him and gulped. He seemed vulgar, the way he’d grabbed himself.
In her mind, she was thinking, $800. Enough for a decent payment. Maybe the school would accept it as a delay to kicking Ian out. That was why she was here. She could have sex with that man for $800.
But then another man shouted, “A thousand five!”
Okay, that was $1,200 in her pocket so far. And this guy didn’t look as bad as the first guy. At least he scared her less. She might be making snap judgments based on their appearance, but what else did she have to go on?
Another man called out, “Two thousand!”
$1,600. Getting there. That was most of what she owed the school right now. She looked out at the man who had bid. At first, he was standing in darkness and she couldn’t see him. Then they shined a low light on him, and she could make him out. It was the man she’d seen outside. The one who looked like a decent guy. The one who was smoking hot. Though, outside he’d had his sleeves down and now they were rolled up, showing two armsful of tattoos. Well, okay. Lots of people had tattoos these days. He was still good looking and seemed decent. So far, he was the one she felt most comfortable with. “Please win,” she begged in her mind.
But then the crotch grabber raised his bid to 2,500. No, please not him. After that, several bids were called out so fast, she didn’t have time to calculate what she would walk away with, or to really worry over who was winning at the moment. The bidding hit $5,000 and she almost gasped. That would cover what she owed the school now, what she would owe in January, and it would still give her a few hundred leftover. Would this guy really pay that much just to sleep with her? She wasn’t that great in bed by any means.
She’d lost track of who was winning. She started to feel panicky as she looked around, waiting. Who had bid $5,000? Just when she thought that was it, the man in the back, the hot one, said, “Six thousand!”
She tried not to look visibly relieved or too excited. This was a lot of money. No matter when the bidding ended, she was covered. She wanted to cry in relief. Ian would be set at least for the next few months. She just had to get through the rest of the school year, and all summer she’d save up so that she’d be ahead for next school year. Maybe in the meantime, she could find a better job.
Her thoughts had started to wander off, but when the emcee said, “Going once,” she was brought back. Yes, yes, she thought. The hottie was going to win!
But before he could say “Going twice,” another bid came in.
“Seven,” the man said in a cold, flat tone. She looked over at him, and her apprehension flooded over her. He was dirty. Greasy hair, mud-covered jacket, yellowed teeth. He sneered at her and pulled back his jacket to show her the row of knives tucked inside his pant
s. Even his jacket had spikes at the top.
Did that mean he wanted to use the knives on her? Was it too late to run? There was no way she could go anywhere with that man.
But then the hottie in the back said, “Eight.”
Oh God, she couldn’t take this. She desperately needed the hottie to win. This was hard enough, but having to leave with that man would be impossible. Let the bidding end now.
The knife guy gave the hottie a challenging look and said, “Nine.”
No, no, no, please no. Save me, hot man. Please. She sucked in a breath, waiting.
The hottie said, “Ten,” and she breathed again.
The greasy man looked at her, raking his eyes over her body. She felt violated just from his stare. No way was he going to touch her.
His face changed to disgust, as if he’d suddenly decided he would have nothing to do with her, just as much as she wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe he didn’t think she was worth more than ten grand. That was just fine with her.
“Going once,” the emcee said. “Going twice.”
She glanced at the man who grabbed himself, back at the greasy knife man, and one glance across the crowd to see if anyone was going to bid.
“Sold for ten thousand to the man in the back!”
She couldn’t help it. She let out a long breath of relief and wanted to cry at the thought that she got to go home with the hottie instead of the guy with the knives. Wait a second. And he was paying ten thousand for her? That was far higher than any other woman had gotten that night. And that meant she would end up with eight thousand dollars. No, that couldn’t be right. Eight thousand?! That put her only a few hundred bucks away from paying for the entire rest of the school year.
She couldn’t take her eyes off her savior. Did he have any idea what he’d just done for her? And she wouldn’t mind seeing him naked at all. Though she still didn’t like the idea of sleeping with a stranger. Or knowing that she was being paid for sex. It felt so cheap and so wrong.
The emcee motioned to her, and she made her way over to the table where a guy was taking the club’s cut. The hottie was there already and whipped out two thousand dollars to hand to the guy. Geez, did he carry that much in cash on him? She looked up at him, and he was looking at her.
His gaze felt too powerful, too heavy. Too lustful maybe. It made her uncomfortable. They both knew what would happen later, but she didn’t want to think of that right now. She watched the man count the money.
He closed the money into a metal box and said, “All set. Congrats.”
So this was really it, then. She was officially sold to this man for the night. She met his eyes again and took in a long, slow breath. He put his hand out and she gave hers. It was just the warmup for what was to come. She’d be giving him a lot more later.
He led her to a small table in the back and sat down.
Chapter Four
“I’m Saxton,” he said.
“Sara.”
He nodded. “Didn’t think Cinnamon was your real name.”
Oh right. Should she have kept that to herself? How much did he need to know about her? How much should he know? And how much should she know about him? Maybe it was better to keep it a mystery. If she knew too much, maybe that would make it worse. Knowing nothing about him meant she could imagine anything. She could picture him as the sweetest, most gentle man on the planet.
“Have you done this before?” he asked.
She looked down at the table, studying the cracks and gashes in the wood top. This whole place was disgusting, especially the business they conducted here. She shook her head.
“I had a feeling. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never done this before, either.” He chuckled. “My guys told me this was a Christmas party.”
She met his gaze and found it a bit easier to look in his eyes. “Your guys?”
“In my MC.”
Should she know what that meant? She tried to think, but wasn’t sure what it stood for.
“Motorcycle club,” he said.
“Oh.” Geez, was it that obvious that she was clueless? So, he was a biker then. That blew her image of him as the nicest guy on the planet. But she knew he rode a motorcycle, she reminded herself. She’d seen him drive up on it.
“You’re in a club of other motorcycle lovers?” she asked.
He looked at her for a moment with a dumbfounded stare. Then, he broke into laughter. “You don’t know anything about the biker world, do you?”
“No, not really.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She felt silly. The other women who had been in the auction all seemed to be getting very cozy. One was sitting on her man’s lap, facing him, licking along his neck. Another danced for her man. A few she didn’t see, and guessed that meant they were already getting busy.
Should she be doing something? Did he expect her to be kissing him and rubbing against him like that? Maybe if he was new to this, he had no expectations.
“We form clubs,” he said. “Groups of guys who ride together and hang together. Sometimes work together. We protect each other, do business together, that sort of thing.”
“Like a gang?”
“Pretty much.”
Her mental association of gangs was again all violence and danger. Saxton had to be the dangerous type. She’d really never gotten into the whole bad boy thing. She preferred safety and security. Maybe because her life seemed fraught with danger enough.
Danger of being kicked out of her apartment or having Ian kicked out of school. Danger of not being able to pay her bills. Danger from her creepy landlord, who had more than once hinted that if she was short on rent, she could work it off in other ways. Danger at the restaurants where she worked and often left late at night. More than once, someone had been in the parking lot, and once she had to get out her pepper spray.
She thought about her landlord and how it had sickened her every time he made a crude look at her or said something vulgar. Then she’d felt that she was too good to sink that low. Well, look at her now. Maybe she should consider sleeping with the landlord to get her rent paid. What difference would it make after this? She was selling herself already. Why not keep doing it?
She wanted to cry at the thought of what she’d become. She was a prostitute now. One thing she swore she’d never become. She had refused to even consider being a stripper, and now she’d skipped right to selling her body. Had she really become this?
“Sara.”
She looked at Saxton, bringing her focus back to him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Would you like a drink?”
“Oh. Sure.”
He motioned for a waitress to come over, and she ordered a vodka and cranberry juice. Something nice and strong. Numb the pain. Maybe it would loosen her up enough to make this easier. She could just get trashed, then maybe she wouldn’t even remember it tomorrow. That seemed like a good plan.
“So, what do you do?” he asked.
“I’m a waitress.”
Their drinks came and she took a long gulp, letting the burn fill her with warmth. One more big sip, and she could feel the warmth creeping into her face. It was already making her anxiety fade a little.
“Easy now,” Saxton said.
He moved his hand to her knee and she jumped. He put his hand back on the table.
“Do you like it?”
“Sure.” The drink was strong and that was good. Sometimes they watered down the alcohol with too much juice. “Strong.”
“Good. I meant waitressing, though. Do you like waitressing?”
“Oh. Sure, it’s okay.”
“I bet you get a lot of tips.” He pulled his mouth into a half smile.
“It’s not bad.”
He sat back and narrowed his eyes to inspect her. “I’ve been trying to figure you out. What is it? School, rent, coke?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would a woman like you put yourself through this?”
Again she w
ondered how much she should tell him. She didn’t really want him to know about Ian. That felt too personal. He probably wasn’t quite that trustworthy.
“Umm, college, yeah. Can’t waitress forever, right?” She tried to chuckle and then took another sip of her drink. College student sounded way more respectable than single mom who was broke.
“What’s your major?”
Without hesitating, she answered, “Nursing.” It was what she’d always wanted to do. Help people, save them, see them get well. But school had never been an option for her. Not with Ian. She had to work every second she could. No way could she devote the thirty hours a week that a nursing program demanded. Even if they allowed her to take classes slower than that, she couldn’t even give them ten hours a week and still be able to pay the bills. As it was, she never got a full night’s sleep and tonight would be worse. She’d maybe get a few hours if she was lucky.
