CHAPTER SEVEN: Katrina
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
And how the hell could I get myself out of it?
Those were the only thoughts that kept running through my mind as I stood on the little podium practically naked in front of the roomful of men who were ogling me like… like… well, I don’t know what!
To say that I felt like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher store window would have been an understatement. I felt totally exposed, completely vulnerable, utterly defenseless, and sadly alone as I stood up there wearing nothing but a transparent nightie and a pair of four-inch stiletto heels that I could barely walk in.
Honestly, I was horrified and a little turned on at the same time. It was not lost on me that this was very much like the dream I’d had, only the men gawking at me now were wearing expensive suits with tall drinks in their hands rather than huge cocks. It was almost comical the way they tried to make small talk like we were at a cocktail party discussing the weather or current events, all while they eyed my tits and bush, and gave me lusty looks that made me want to puke.
“So, sweet cheeks,” a short, round man with gray hair and bushy eyebrows said, giving me a toothy smile that made my skin crawl. “What will you do with the money you make here tonight?” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “And don’t give me that old shtick about your mom dying of cancer or you’re about to lose the family home. What are you really gonna do with it? Shopping spree? New car? Trip to Europe?”
“My mom did die of cancer, you fucking asshole,” I said, staring down at him from my high perch. I thought he might be trying to make a joke, but I didn’t find anything funny about it. My nostrils flared like a mad bull and I growled at him. “And I’ve never had a family home, so fuck off.”
His eyebrows knitted together as his forehead furrowed and his cheeks flushed bright red. He narrowed his eyes at me. “You little cunt. I might buy you just so I can teach you some manners.”
I was about to tell him to go fuck himself again, then I noticed the older woman who was in charge of the auction giving me the eye. Her name was Lois something or other. She was probably in her late fifties, with hair dyed jet black, makeup that looked as if it had been applied with a trowel, and the stern eye of a Marine drill instructor. I tried to remember everything she had told us during the orientation (yes, there was an orientation). Smile. Be friendly. Chat them up. Be seductive. Don’t cover yourself with your hands or arms. Shoulders back. Tits out. Legs spread. If a guy asks to see your pussy, show it to him, but don’t let anyone touch you. If anyone gets out of line scream and security will escort them out. Remember, the sexier you are, the more money you’ll make, she said, like it was the whore’s mantra.
I forced a smile and waved a hand at the greasy bastard. “I’m just messing with you, sweet cheeks,” I said, trying not to choke on the words. I would rather slit my wrists than give this asshole my cherry, but I had gotten myself into this mess and I was determined to see it through. Just think about the money, Bethany said. Think about the money. That’s all that matters.
I put my hands on my knees to lean down and give him a smile. “But, I would love to learn from you, if the price is right.”
“Well, that’s better,” he huffed, the eyebrows wiggling at me. “I like a girl with a fire in her belly.” He leaned in close enough that I could smell the liquor on this breath and the sweat on his neck. “And my cock in her ass.”
“Um, well, that’s good to know,” I said. He ogled me for a moment more, his eyes lingering on my nipples, which were full and plump despite my embarrassment, then went off to bother another girl. I tried to wipe the perspiration from my upper lip without anyone seeing. There’s nothing sexy about lip sweat. Ass sweat, maybe, but not lip sweat. And I had to be sexy if I wanted to bring a high price, even if it embarrassed me to death.
The men probably thought otherwise, but there was nothing sexy about standing naked in a roomful of leering men, at least not to me. I was naked and on display, like an animal at the zoo, only I wasn’t there to be looked at. I was there to be poked and prodded and invaded in the most intimate way, my hymen violently punched through, my virginity forever a thing of the past.
I felt totally alone, even though the room was filled with people. I had to force myself to smile even though I felt like crying. I just kept reminding myself that in a few days I’d hopefully have the money to pay off my father’s debts and pay for my first semester at school.
Think about the money.
It’s all about the money.
* * *
I didn’t know how or why, but I felt as if someone was watching me. Not gawking at my body in a lustful way like the other men in the room, but watching me in a protective way. It was hard to explain, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I glanced around the room for a moment and then I saw him, the source of my paranoia, a man watching me (not staring) from across the room.
The little podium was tall enough that I could see over the heads of the men directly in front of me. This man watching me was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a dark suit and white shirt that was open at the collar. His complexion was dark, as were his hair and eyes. He was by far the most handsome man in the room, perhaps the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and he was somehow different from the others, as if he wasn’t meant to be there, but was fascinated by it all nonetheless. Surely, I thought, he could get more than his share of women without having to buy one’s virginity.
When I noticed him looking at me, he casually glanced away. He was standing next to a skinny guy in a shiny blue suit who looked like a character from The Sopranos. Next to him was a muscle head stuffed in a suit that looked like it might burst at the seams at any moment.
When the handsome stranger looked away, I brought my attention back to the men gathered in front of me. A large man with a thick black hair and a bushy mustache and cold blue eyes was speaking to me. His accent was thicker than the hair above his lip.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked, working up a smile that took most of the energy I had left.
“Your ass,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “Is virgin, too?”
I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
There was a shorter fat man standing next to him, holding a drink he was stirring with a straw as he stared at my tits. He looked like an accountant or maybe a lawyer. He gave me a smile that reminded me of the creeps you’d meet on the subway late at night.
“My Russian friend is asking if your ass is virginal, too,” the fat fuck said. “He is interested in bidding if his cock would be the first to enter your ass and your pussy.”
“A twofer,” the Russian said with a broad grin that revealed a mouthful of crooked teeth. He held up two thick fingers with the knuckles facing me and wiggled them in the air. “Ass and pussy, virgin for Dimitri’s big cock.”
Was my ass virginal, too? Seriously? Who the fuck asks a question like that? Was he really willing to pay more to be the first cock I’d ever had in my ass?
Jesus Christ, I didn’t know my ass was for sale! I’d never done anything like that before and wasn’t sure I even wanted to. I mean, that’s an exit, right? Not an entrance? I got the feeling that if he did win me in the auction he would have his way with me regardless of what I had to say about it. As his eyes burned into mine, I felt my ass cheeks clench.
I suddenly felt like Alice in Wonderland. I wasn’t dealing with the evil Queen of Hearts, but I was surrounded by a bunch of crazy motherfuckers all the same, though I didn’t recall the Mad Hatter asking Alice if her ass was virginal, too.
“My ass is not for sale,” I said, narrowing my eyes at them. “If you like ass so much go fuck each other.”
They glanced at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. The big Russian waved his hand at me. He was chuckling, but his words sent a chill up my spine. “Fucking white cunt. I buy you and fuck you until you scream, then put you to work like fucking dog.”
“Excuse me, fellas,” a voice interrupted from behind the Russian. The Russian and the fat man both turned to find the handsome man who had been watching me from across the room. He was smiling at them with a flute of champagne in each hand.
“What fuck you want, cocksucker?” the Russian grunted. His fat pal put out a hand to shush him.
“Dimitri, this is Nicky D’Angelo,” the fat man said. “Nicky, how have you been?”
“Good, Roger,” he said with a smile. “Enjoying the party?”
I had no idea who the handsome stranger was, but he had rattled the fat man for some reason. The Russian, on the other hand, seemed unimpressed.
The fat man blinked as if he had something in his eye and said, “Uh, yes, we are.”
“Good, now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to the young lady.” The smiled slowly faded from his lips. He set his eyes on the Russian. “You boys go find someone else to bother.”
“Uh, sure thing, Nicky,” the fat man said, forcing a nervous chuckle. “Good to see you. Dimitri, let’s check out the other girls.”
I couldn’t see the Russian’s face when he was told to go bother someone else, but I noticed his head twitch just a little to the side. He glanced back at me, like a wolf watching a fawn get away, then followed his fat friend to the next girl in line.
“I can never decide who are bigger pricks; lawyers or their Russian clients,” my savior said with a smile, the first one I’d seen all evening that didn’t look as if it had an agenda behind it. He held out one of the champagne glasses to me. “Thirsty?”
“We’re not supposed to drink,” I said. I folded my arms over my breasts, then quickly dropped them to my sides and balled my hands into fists to keep them there. “We’re supposed to be sober for the auction. Even though it would be much easier if we were drunk. At least for me.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” he said, pulling his arm back. He gazed into my eyes and let his eyebrows go up. “I’m Nicky D’Angelo. And you are?”
“Katrina,” I said, my cheeks flushing like a school girl being asked to dance by the most handsome boy in class. Even though I was naked and didn’t know him from Adam, I found myself not wanting to cover up in front of him. I wanted him to look at my breasts and my hard nipples and my neatly-trimmed bush and my tight ass and my toned legs. I wanted him to take in every inch of me with his eyes, then explore every inch with his hands and mouth. I felt a moist heat growing between my legs.
“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to talk about,” he said, giving me a playful frown. “I mean, am I supposed to ask you about your hobbies or your favorite movies or how you plan to spend the money or?”
“I’m not sure either,” I said, smiling genuinely for the first time since I’d arrived at the mansion earlier in the day. I glanced around the room and shook my head. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Neither have I,” he said with the champagne glass at his lips. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you doing it now?”
“I need the money for college,” I said. “And to pay off some family debts.”
“Ah, cool, what are you going to study?”
“I want to do cancer research,” I said. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was standing with my hands behind my back, rotating my hips from side to side like a little girl talking about what she wanted to be when she grew up. When I realized what I was doing, I crossed my hands in front of me and told myself to stand still.
“That’s great,” he said, toasting me with the glass. “I have great respect for people like you.”
“What kind of people is that?” I asked. I gazed deeply into his eyes and felt the world around me collapse into darkness. It was as if I had tunnel vision. Even though the room was filled with noise and activity, he was the only thing I could see.
“People who care about other people,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “Nurses, doctors, social workers, teachers... I have great respect for people who do that sort of thing.”
“What do you do?” I asked.
“Not that,” he said flatly. He stared at me for a moment, as if he couldn’t think of anything more to say. Then he cleared his throat and gave me a nod. “Well, good luck, Katrina. It was nice to meet you. I hope you get everything out of life that you deserve.”
“Thanks,” I said, thinking it was an odd thing for him to say given the circumstances. Maybe he was as nervous as I was. “It was nice to meet you, too.”
I wanted to add, “And please buy me. Please, please, please buy me!”
A moment later, the woman running the auction came by to tell me that things were about to start and I should follow her. I carefully stepped off the podium and along with the other eleven girls, followed the woman to the front of the room and lined up side by side. I was number four in line, just like my bio in the brochure.
“Okay, girls,” she said, directing us with her bony hands. “Lose the nighties and line up. The auction is about to begin.”