Sold to the Dom

by Amy Brent

  I thought that maybe it was to do with a particular brand of ladies underwear, but then I thought that dad wouldn’t be as risky as that. When he told me what it was, I laughed, but then I realized that it wasn’t a joke, seeing as I was the only one laughing. Not that dad was the type to laugh, he rarely did that if at all.

  Which was why the whole idea that he sold virginities, made me look at him in a different light. I'd seen too many sides of him over the years, and none of them were cute, but this one, this was something that didn't bear thinking about.

  Kind of like when I was a kid, and the other kids would talk about hearing their parents having sex. I would always say that if I could hear them, I wouldn't be able to look at them ever again with a straight face. The whole idea of it used to gross me out then, right now it kind of freaks me out.

  “Remind me why I’m doing this again?”

  My dad frowns as he looks up from his Mac and looks me directly in my eyes, “Because, you’re my son and I need you to take over from me when I’m gone. That means being part of every auction.”

  “But a virginity auction? Seriously dad when you said that I should take over, I thought you said from the oil business, the factories, the mines or even the damn night clubs. Not from the virgin auctions. Who the heck came up with that idea?”

  He avoids my eyes as he looks at me. I can tell that he’s serious, well I saw the books, and the whole thing isn’t a game. Girls sign up for this shit. Poor girls. Ones that are desperate for money, for whatever reason. There’s a whole month of pruning, before they can be in the auction. Like they’re pieces of meat being sold to the highest bidder. Thank goodness it only takes place twice per year. I can’t believe that men pay for this, but when I saw the list of the clientele, it made me think of the business in a whole different light.

  “Your grandfather did!”

  I choke as I think about the ruthless man that I’d inspired to be, being nothing more than a pervert.

  “Why not go down the brothel route?”

  I ask as I stand up and walk around the room. This is just an expensive form of prostitution.

  “You practice BDSM?”

  How did he know? “I’ve been to your house a few times, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s in the basement. So, it’s in your blood.”

  I snuff, “Paying for sex?”

  “No.”

  He folds his arm as he relaxes back in his armchair as if he’s talking to one of his employees. I know it’s even more serious as he takes off his glasses and faces me.

  “This is about your mom, isn’t it?”

  Maybe he did remorse and miss her. At times, I hated him, because it was as if it was business as usual. There were no changes in our lives. We had lost the most important person that connected us, and he'd act as if nothing was wrong. I hated him back then for it because my world crashed completely and I'd lived with the way that I'd handled it.

  Not good, but no one's perfect.

  Especially me.

  “This business started long before your mom died. You’re not listening to what I just told you.” He turns on one of the leading lights, and the room lights up. I can see his expression and the temptation to ask him if he’d ever slept with one of the girls came into my mind, but then I decide against it. He’s my last living relative and even though it’s been over three years, the pain and memory of her life slipping through her fingers and her losing her fight to cancer is still fresh in our minds.

  “Son, I know that you’re still hurting about your mother. No woman can ever compare to her, but this is a business. This has nothing to do with anything personal. Besides, it’s one of the oldest Fisher businesses.”

  I laugh, “I thought that was the oil business.”

  “And this is no different to having a golf meeting. You go on the course, and you have fun with one of your business clients. You mingle. You enjoy and then it’s all over in a week. I’ve had cars sent to me and some of the gifts that you’ve enjoyed in the past.”

  ‘“Really?”

  “Yes. Blake just go and have some fun. Don’t think about it and make sure that you experiment with one of the girls. Experience it and like a well-refined wine you’ll be going back for more.”

  “Dad, I don’t pay for sex.”

  “That’s what I said to my dad when he sat me down and told me about the business. Now, I dabble once in a while.”

  He stands up to face him; there’s a struggle of minds as I can see that he’s waiting for me to ask him the question. Daring me, in fact, to know if he did it while he was married to mom. Would the answer make a difference?

  No.

  I decide that it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie as I take a deep breath and say, “Well, I better go and let the games begin.”

  He nods, “I knew that you would see sense.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re too loyal not to.”

  Then he sits back down again. Maybe that’s the issue; it’s not that I want to do it. It’s the fact that after all I’ve been through I still end up at the back of the old man. I obey him hoping that one day, I'll have his respect. I should have learned by now that it’s not possible. No matter how hard I’ve tried in the past, I always end up at the same place with the same results.

  A big fat nothing!

  And in a situation that I don't want to be in. I don't care how good the pussy is, I've never paid for sex, and I've never fucked a virgin. There are two reasons for that, having a woman with both or even one of those criteria is bad news, and I have enough problems in my life without looking for more.

  Chapter 4: Blake

  The girls arrive one-by-one to the remote location which to anyone else would seem like a hotel. One that’s never open to the general public. I used to wonder when I was a kid when we used to drive by it, who owned it? Now, I knew the answer to my question; I should have been proud that the old castle that used to house, as dad eloquently put it, a ‘refined wine cellar.' One that doesn’t store wine, but sells virginities belongs to our family. If I weren't involved, then I would find the whole thing comical.

  I never pay for sex.

  Like never and today, won’t be an exception. I’m thinking about taking the one that I want for the night. Instead of taking the girls that could be rejected by the men. A couple of them look old enough to be their dad’s, including my dad’s best friend, Henry.

  “Gentlemen,” I clap my hands as the waitress brings them into the ballroom. The one that’s supposed to be where the girls come in and put their bodies on display. They’ll be here in about an hour, and until then they need to be entertained. Dad says that some of the waitresses were participants in the auction and have been working here full-time since then. I’m not sure what they do because the auction only takes place twice per year. That detail he missed out, then again, he missed out the auction house existence until recently.

  “Blake, good to see you here, we kept telling your dad that you would love to be a part of this. He would never listen,” Henry, dad’s best friend, says as he pats me on the back. I think about my earlier thought and decide that most likely a couple of these men would probably be their grandfather rather than just their dad’s.

  The girl's age from a mix of eighteen to nineteen. I didn’t even get to see their names on their application forms. Just numbers. That is top secret for security reasons, but dad said eventually I would be able to see all information about the girls. Just not yet.

  “Well, I’m not sure about that,” I frown as I think about Henry. When I was younger, I used to wonder why he wasn’t married. He’s rich, well-groomed and seems to have women flocking at his feet even until now. There wasn’t a woman at a social event that didn’t want his number. I even concluded when I went to college that maybe he swung the other way. Now, I’ve learned the truth; I think the idea that he swung the other way was more acceptable.

  Anything, then the men I’d respected for so many years
were all buying virginities. I just didn’t see the point of it all.

  “Don’t dismiss it until you try it!” he smiled at me as he played with his Walrus mustache that always reminds me of Mr. Poirot, in the Agatha Christie mysteries. He could be his twin brother, because his mustache is long, whiskey and gray. I never understood why women found that attractive, yet through the years he hasn’t aged and managed to stay the same age throughout the years physically. He went to college with dad, so I know that they’re the same age. Nothing about him has changed from his bald head to his ever enduring smile, which appears as if he’s always up to something. I don’t even want to know, as I shake my head. That’s when I turn from Henry and see the man standing by his side. The man that I just love to hate.

  “Mr. Johnson,” I nod, and he seems uncomfortable about my presence, maybe because we used to be friends; we went to the same damn college. I was naive and thought that he was my friend, but he was a snake in the grass. Waiting for the perfect moment to take what was mine.

  He took Scarlett.

  The woman that I'd dated, I hadn't even fucked her, and we had been dating for weeks. I generally screw and then ask questions later. Not Scarlett, from the moment I saw her, I knew that things were going to be different. I wanted her to be my wife, someone that I imagined having kids with, I never wanted them until I’d met her.

  She was flawless, pale and the type of woman that men want to take home to introduce to their mom's. She left me for him and then, in turn, he turned her into a broken piece of glass that could never be repaired after he started dating or rather fucking her. I remember seeing her after she’d told me that she’d chosen him over me.

  ‘He can give me what I need,’ she said on the phone, she didn’t even come to see me at the office or even at home. He’d turned her into a coward, someone I see now that I hardly recognize.

  ‘I can give you everything,’ I begged her. I wanted to see her, find out what I was doing wrong. I would have done anything for her.

  ‘He loves me. Whereas the only person that you’ve ever loved was yourself.’

  I hung up on her. I didn’t deserve to be told that on the phone or even in person. I’d showered her with gifts and expensive holidays, but that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted more, and I’d thought that she found it in him.

  Scarlett’s blonde hair which was always perfectly pinned on top her hair looks more like a bird’s nest. The pale complexion’s no longer recognizable under tons of make-up. She’s a woman that I no longer recognize and I don’t know what upsets me more about him. Is the fact that he took her and broke her?

  Or the fact that she let him?

  I’d put a stop to our so-called friendship. I couldn’t stand playing squash with him, let alone go out to restaurants and pretend that we were friends. He knew I’d loved her, so he broke her and expected me to watch. He took it one step further by making himself a direct competitor in business.

  “Blake,” he slurred like a slithery snake.

  “Mr. Johnson,” I reply as I avoid looking into his eyes and focusing on the reason that we’re all here tonight.

  The auction.

  “I never understood, why you called him that, Blake. Why don’t you ever call him by his first name?”

  Henry asks as his hand is still on my back and his eyes dart from Mr. Johnson’s and mine.

  “Because I stole his girl.”

  “Which reminds me, where is Scarlett?”

  Henry coughs and moves away which can only mean one thing; it’s not good news.

  “At home, waiting for me to bring home a new toy.”

  I shake my head thinking about the man that Scarlett could have had and the one that she ended up with. I’ll never understand women, especially one’s like Scarlett.

  “Well, whatever happened in the past. You two need to get over it. After all, you were nearly brothers at one stage.”

  Mr. Johnson picks up the scotch that a waitress hands out as she passes by and knocks it back in one smooth swipe. He smiles at her, and I wonder if she was one of his first victims and the idea of it all sends a shiver down my spine. Especially when he requests, “Another one.”

  As he puts down his glass and then he ignores the conversation that we were having and moves to the seated area. The sofas are at the corner of the ballroom.

  There’s a man seated there. The one that I didn’t recognize his name on the list. Apparently, he wants to be anonymous, which is his right. As I move closer to the corner thinking that the sooner they get the show over with, then the quicker this can all end.

  As I look at Mr. Johnson for a minute as he moves to the corner, I decide for sure that I’m going to make sure whatever toy he wants to take home to Scarlett he doesn’t get it. At least I’d feel satisfied knowing that for once I’d beaten him, even if it’s only for the night.

  Chapter 5: Lily

  “Shit, what happened to her?” I can hear a voice asking as I try and open my eyes. I don’t know how long I’m in the back of the limo. The one that I’d sat in on the way here.

  I try and open my eyes, my head’s swaying and nothing’s making sense. It feels as if it’s in a daze.

  “These girls are no more than nineteen. She shouldn’t have been drinking it’s illegal.”

  “And selling their virginity is legal?”

  I recognize the voice of the driver, even if he didn’t say much earlier. I know that he spoke.

  “Help me carry her.”

  “No. I’ll take her back where I found her.”

  “No. Help me.”

  “I’m not helping anyone. I’m under strict instructions from Mr. Fisher that the girls if they’re not fit for the auction they should be dropped at their location point.”

  “But, she’s desperate, and that’s why she applied in the first place. She probably has no money, and this was her only way out.”

  “Get a job! You women should be ashamed of yourselves. Selling your bodies like that. No self-respect!” I hear the driver spit out. I feel like crying. They’re discussing the game, and I can’t remember the last time I had a meal. I was so desperate to win that I’d been eating very little thinking that I need to get rid of at least some inches off. Every time Olivia asked me if I’d eaten, I lied and told her that I had. I didn’t want to admit the truth, that I was starving to make sure that every inch of me was perfect.

  If I’d told her she would say that I’m paranoid and there’s nothing wrong with my body.

  “Great, Veronica. Help me. She’s passed out I think. We have at least thirty minutes until the show starts. Just help me get her up!”

  “This isn’t a good idea. Just let the driver take her back.”

  “No! He’s a dick. He’s calling us all scum for even being involved in this.”

  “Typical, what about the men? They’re all upstanding citizens.”

  “Exactly! Are you going to help me or not?” I think that it’s the right time to come clean and tell them that I’m awake and I can hear every word. Everything about me being said that makes me feel cheap and the desperate need to get out of here.

  “Look, she’s waking up.”

  I turn to the voice that’s speaking, the one that wants to help me but doesn’t have the ability to help me get out of the limo by herself.

  “Good. Hello, can you hear me?”

  I nod as I look at her with my eyes fully open. She’s beautiful, dark and Latino looking. She’s about half my size, which explains why she’s unable to move me on her own.

  “I just had…” I try and speak, but the words aren’t flowing as I feel sick and then as I think about it I move my head in the opposite direction and throw-up in the limo. I expect them to send me back to the location, but instead, both of them start laughing.

  “That’ll teach him not to be a jerk.”

  The Latino one says as she helps me up.

  “Have you finished do you want to be sick a little more?”

  “If she doe
s then I’ll help her up to the driver seat!”

  They laugh once again, and then I nod my head because I just feel light-headed no longer sick but desperate to get out of here. The smell is nauseating it’s a mix of the sick and the obvious fact that I’ve not eaten in a while.

  “Right, let’s get you out of here. You’ve got about thirty minutes to get ready.”

  “Twenty minutes and counting,” Veronica says as I try and stand-up once I’m out of the limo.

  It’s obvious that I can’t walk in my shoes, that has nothing to do with the fact that I’m slightly intoxicated, everything that was supposed to go right. Felt as if it was going wrong, but as she spoke, I felt that I had a little hope.

  A little.

  It means that I’ve got some hope of entering, even if I don’t win I couldn’t ask for more than that right now.

  ***

  * * *

  I move with them through some tunnels, and I can hear nothing. I should be scared wondering where they’re taking me. But I can see by their hearts that seem to be racing as they hold on to me and their eyes shifting from left-to-right that this isn’t the time to be asking questions. The only thing I can do is be led and freshened up, which is what I can tell that they have on their minds too.

  “We’re here.”

  “Good.” I want to ask her, her name. The one that’ll be on my mind forever for helping me when I didn’t even know her name.

  She looks me dead in the eye and says, “Do as we say and don’t ask questions. We don’t have time.”

  I nod, thinking that she’s right we don’t have time I think as I enter the room and see an antique clock in the corner of the wall.

  “Okay as long as we understand each other then we’ll get started.”

  Again, I don’t ask questions instead like a child; I listen attentively as she tells me to take my dress off. I should be afraid and ask what’s going to happen now. She may be beautiful and a lot smaller than me, but I have a feeling that she’s a tough cookie.