The bright spotlight blinds me. I can’t see a thing in front me of me. I put on a smile and stand with my hands by my sides. Suddenly, I’m very well-aware of how much my high heeled shoes are pinching my feet. I struggle to breathe in this tight dress, which doesn't allow my legs more than an inch of movement.

“Let’s start the auction at $10,000,” Lizbeth says into the microphone. “Can I get ten thousand?”

“Twenty-thousand. Thirty-thousand.”

My eyes finally adjust to the brightness of the stage. Paddles keep flying into the air as the numbers keep climbing high and higher.

“Okay, how about eighty thousand,” Lizbeth says, clearly pleased with the way the auction is going.

Am I really going to go for eighty thousand? That number floats around in my head as some unreachable goal.

Somewhere near the back of the room I spot Blake Garrison and Harrison Brooks. They are sitting at the same table and raising their paddles each time the number jumps up. Please, let it be one of those two, I say to myself. At least, I already know them. And they’re my age.

When the price reaches ninety-thousand, everyone else who was in the running drops off. It’s just these two. And they keep going. Am I really going to go for one hundred thousand dollars? That kind of money doesn’t even seem real.

“Now, just to let those of you know who are still in the running, we do have one very exclusive bidder. He is currently not in the room, but he does a proxy who is bidding for him. He is, of course, watching what’s going on here and communicating with his proxy,” Lizbeth says.

What? A secret bidder? Who is not in the room? What the hell is that? Who the hell is that?

“Now, how about we go up to $110,000?”

I look over and Blake and Brooks hold up their paddles. They are determined. Stay in this boys, I pray.

“My bidder would like to offer $150,000,” the proxy bidder in the back yells out.

“Okay then. How about $150,000?”

The guys pause for a second. Please, bid, please bid, I say to myself over and over. I’m trying to compel them with my mind. Finally, Brooks raises his paddle. But Blake doesn’t. It’s too much money.

“$250,000,” the proxy in the back yells out. Lizbeth looks absolutely shocked. But she quickly catches herself and pulls herself back together. She is a professional after all. “$250,000 going once.”

I stare at Brooks I try to push up his paddle with my mind but he shakes his head.

“$250,000 going twice.”

Please, Brooks. Please do this for me, I want to scream out. You can’t let me go away with this mystery bidder.

“Ellie is sold for $250,000 to Mr. Black.”

Mr. Black. That’s the mystery bidder. I’ve heard that name before. It was whispered in hushed tones at the cocktail party. And now he bought me. Of all people. For $250,000. Now, that’s an insane amount of money.

The rest of the auction is blur. The man with the suitcase comes over and I pull out my wallet to give him my checking account info. We wait, he transfers the $250,000 into my account. The bank calls to confirm. He talks to someone else on the phone. Finally, the money is mine. I log into my account on my phone and there it is. All $250,000 of it. What the hell? Is this really happening. Is this money real? It’s all so hard to believe.

When the money transfer is complete, another woman comes up to me. She’s dressed in a short black latex dress and high heels. Her breasts are propped up so high they are basically spilling over her dress.

“I will escort you to Mr. Black’s suite,” she says. “Please follow me.”

I want to make some conversation with her, but I can’t physically open my mouth. I feel numb all over. I follow her all the way to the other end of the yacht. The rooms get more and more glamorous and ostentatious the further along we go. There’s a large library to one side, filled with gorgeous leather-bound books. I suddenly have an unstoppable urge to run away and lock myself in the library.

No, you have to be professional. You just got paid more money than you would probably see in your whole life. It’s more than enough to pay off my four years of tuition, the taxes on the money and have some left over for a bit of fun. It’s the fun part that I try to focus on to keep myself going. I could buy a ticket to anywhere in the world and spend a month there. Or go to many different places. I can go to Europe for a few months. Or I can go traveling around South America. This is all going to be worth it, Ellie, I say to myself.

When we reach the last door on the left, my beautiful escort opens it and lets us in. I walk through the double doors into a gigantic double room suite. There’s a large king sized bed at the far end, in another room, through the open sliding doors. The room where we enter is a beautiful carpeted area with a large wooden desk, couch, and chairs. I think this is what people used to refer to as the sitting room back in the day. Both rooms have floor to ceiling windows with a million lights streaming in. Out on the water, the stars are so bright, they almost hurt your eyes.

“Mr. Black will be here shortly, but first I have to get you ready,” my escort says.

“Get me ready? What do you mean?”

“He is very particular. He wants things just so,” she says. She walks over to the closet and opens it. Inside, I see a bunch of perfect suits and one sheer gown with feathers along the edges. She pulls out the gown and holds it up front of me.

“Please take off your dress,” she says.

I’m caught off guard. I mean, I knew that he bought me for the night, but dictating what I wear, somehow seems wrong. But my escort continues to wait. Finally, I decide to undress. With great effort, I pull off my dress. My stomach has all of these lines on it from the dress poking into me while I sat. I put my arms in front of it to block her from seeing.

“Please take off your bra and panties as well,” she says.

My bra and panties as well? This is going too far! But then again, I am going to have sex with him. Did I really not think that for $250,000 I wouldn’t be expected to take off my bra and panties?

Once I take off my bra, I kneel down to take off my shoes. At least, there’s one good thing about this. I can finally take off these pinching things.

“Please, keep your heels on,” she says.

Dammit, I mutter to myself. I peel off my panties and drop them on the chair along with my dress and bra. My escort takes the gown off the coat hanger and helps me into it. There is no front. It’s just a long sheer robe. A dressing gown. It’s entirely see-through.

“Now, go and lie down on the bed,” my escort says.

“On top of the sheets?” I ask. She nods. I find a spot in the middle, propping myself up with the pillows.

She comes over and opens the drawer on the end table. She pulls out a long strap with a cuff at the end.

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Black would like you tied up,” she explains. Tied up? My mind begins to race. No, no, no, I can’t be tried up.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “It’s very sexy. He isn’t going to do anything to hurt you…unless you want him to.”

“Why would I want him to?” I ask.

She laughs. “Because you will. You’ll be begging him to.”

I understand the words that are coming out of her mouth, but I also don’t. I have no idea what she’s talking about. Why would I want him to hurt me?

I give her my one hand and watch as she puts the leather cuff around my wrist. She then tied the strap to the bed post. Carefully, walking around the bed, she does the same thing with my left hand. I pull on my wrists. No, this isn’t a joke. Both of my hands are tied to the bed posts.

My escort than leans over me and arranges my robe. She makes sure that the feather trim covers up my breasts and other bits and then smiles at herself when she’s done.

“Okay, one last thing,” she says and pulls something out of her pocket. It’s a black mask.

“He doesn't want me to see him?” I ask. My heart starts to race a mile a minute. No, I can’t have my eyes covered. This is going too far.

“I’m sure you will later. He just doesn’t want you to see him right away.”

She puts the mask over my eyes. Suddenly, I become a lot more keenly aware of every sound that exists in the room. Somewhere in the distance, something is buzzing. My escort exhales small shallow breaths. The bedspread makes a rustling sound while she leans over me.

“Okay, enjoy yourself,” she says and walks out of the room.