Michelle
“I hate all of this. Maybe this is all a mistake.”
Mackenzie glared at me from the middle of a pile of clothes on my bed. “Would you stop saying that? You decided to do it, and you’re going to do it.”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“It’s not that it’s important to me that you actually do it. But it’s important that you do what you can to help yourself. I hate seeing you worry about money the way you do. It kills me, and I wish I could give you everything you need. So the least I can do is support you now. And I do! I’m right behind you in this.”
“Good. Somebody has to be, because otherwise I’d back the heck out.” I bit my lip, holding two dresses up side by side. Neither of them seemed right.
“So you said the dress code is pretty sexy, right?” I asked Mac.
“Yeah, that’s what I heard. It makes sense. You want to show them what you’ve got going on.”
“And you say that’s a lot, right?”
Mac rolled her eyes. “Girl, you need to leave that crazy hang-up shit at the door. You know you’re gorgeous. Get over it.”
I wasn’t so sure. Maybe because the boys had always made fun of me in school for being so tall. I was such a nerd, and I got teased for that, too. It wasn’t easy seeing myself as anything other than what others told me that I was at that age. The impressions we got of ourselves in those early days ran deep, and lasted a lifetime in some cases.
“So what’s your top three of these choices?” I asked.
Mac looked critically at what I had laid out. A lot of the dresses hadn’t seen the light of day since college—I hadn’t changed much since then in terms of my body shape, so that was a relief. I didn’t think buying a new dress was exactly the most responsible thing to do, even though Mac swore I’d be pulling in tens of thousands of dollars that night.
“I like the red one, the blue one, and the black one.” She picked them out. All of them were pretty similar. Low-cut, short, tight. I had been going through a phase when I bought them, obviously. I might even have bought them all at the same time. They were classics, though. They hadn’t gone out of style. That was one thing I had been taught—to invest in the classics rather than in trends. Mom was always very frugal.
Now we had debt collectors practically pounding on our front door. Oh, the irony.
“What do you think it will be like?” I asked.
“The auction?”
“That, and…” I trailed off.
Mac’s eyes softened and she sat back down on the bed. “Come here,” she said, clearing a space. I sat beside her. “Just make sure you’re safe, you know? Text me the guy’s name, first and foremost. Ask for ID, even. Don’t let him lie to you. Tell me everything you can about him, and let him know you are. That should help make sure he won’t try anything he’ll regret—or you’ll regret.”
“Right.” I nodded. We had been through that before.
“And of course, make sure he uses a condom.”
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes.
“Otherwise, you’re not a little girl anymore. It might not even hurt. You’re twenty-six—do you even think your hymen is intact?”
“I know it’s not,” I said, smirking. I might have been a virgin, but I wasn’t a nun.
“So it shouldn’t be all that bad. It might be a little uncomfortable. Just…tell him what you want. Don’t be afraid just because he paid, you know? You’re within your rights to ask him to slow up or take it easy on you. And he should know better than to plow you on the first time out.”
“Jesus, Mac.”
“Well? It’s true. If he starts going too hard and it hurts you, tell him so. If you have to, remind him I know who he is, and I’m a lawyer.”
“You’re not a lawyer.”
“Does he know that?” She grinned, elbowing me playfully. “Try to enjoy it, though. Take it slow, breathe, focus on how you feel. Try not to think about it too much. Just concentrate on how you’re feeling. Who knows? It might be a lot more fun than you’d imagine.”
“I doubt it.” I was dreading what was about to happen more than I could explain. I would be handing over my virginity to a total stranger in a matter of hours. It was chilling, almost. The way I was walking it to as though I had no choice. There was no joy in it, no willingness. Nothing but dread.
I had to do it. Mom needed the money. Just the thought of her in the room next door to mine reminded me of how much was riding on what I did that night.
“And you’ll look in on her?”
“Babe, I’ll be here all night. All weekend, if you need me to be.” She winked. “How many times have I slept in this room? I mean, come on.”
“I know. I was thinking the same thing.” I got up, stretching, shaking my hands. Trying to get rid of my nerves. “How many nights did we spend in this room dreaming of marrying the guys from N*Sync? And now here we are. It’s nerve-wracking.”
“Just think. You’re better off than most girls. Most girls don’t get anything but a clumsy thanks or ‘did you like that?’ after their first time. I know I wondered what the hell the big deal was all about since I hardly felt anything. You’re lucky. At least you’ll be with a real man, and probably one with some money and experience.”
“Are you saying you envy me?” I asked, grinning in the mirror as I did my makeup.
“Not exactly. But it might have been nice to be with somebody who knew what the hell they were doing. Maybe I do envy you in a way—you waited.”
I put down the makeup and turned to her. “You? Envy me? I’ve always been the one who envies you!”
“Why?” She looked genuinely surprised, which blew my mind.
“Because you’ve always been the one with boyfriends, or guys you were seeing, or even random hookups. I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t be like you were. I always wanted to be. I wished guys would think I was hot, the way they always saw you.”
“Meanwhile, so much of it was totally soulless. I wish I could do it over again,” she said. “After a while, it’s just sex for the sake of sex. I get it now when people say the first time should be meaningful.”
My gaze dropped and I stared at the carpet. Mac understood her mistake and jumped off the bed.
“I didn’t mean it’s wrong that yours isn’t! Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry. What a stupid thing to say.” She threw her arms around me and hugged tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “This is meaningful. There might not be romance, but there will be what I need. The money. That’s all there is to it. Seeing my mom taken care of is all I need.” With heightened resolve, I turned to the mirror and continued with my makeup. Mackenzie wisely let the subject drop.
###
Two hours later, I stood backstage at the auction. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten as far as I had—I’d only wanted to turn around and go home a half dozen times during the ten-minute drive to the warehouse.
From the outside, it didn’t look like much. One of the dozens of warehouses along the city’s mostly abandoned port. I had balked at the idea of going inside, wondering if Mac’s contact had given her the wrong address by mistake. She’d assured me it was all right when I called to ask her.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine. He said they keep it in an out-of-the-way place to keep the cops away. But that’s it, the warehouse. Don’t forget to text me.”
I’d promised I would, and stepped inside. She had been right. It was like night and day, the difference between what was outside and what hid behind the old rusty door. The interior might have been an art gallery, it was so clean and classy. Like one of the old converted factories and lofts in the city’s newly gentrified sections. Whoever put the auction together knew what he was doing. He’d put money into making it look as legit as possible.
It was because he was catering to a high-end clientele, I realized. There were some pretty fancy cars parked outside. Who were these men that they were aware of an underground auction such as this? I had assumed men like that were above skeevy activities like this. I figured I had a lot to learn.
Almost as soon as I arrived, a woman spotted me and took me by the arm. “Are you one of the items tonight?”
My skin crawled at the name she gave me, but I nodded mutely. She led me to the backstage area, where I saw the other girls—or, items. Many of them were younger than me, and many of them looked as nervous as I felt. I wondered what made them desperate enough to do what they were doing. Did they have sick parents like I did? Or maybe they needed money for student loans, or to make a tuition payment. They might have gone crazy with their credit cards, since a couple of them were wearing what even I could recognize as seriously expensive designer clothing. There was more than one pair of red-soled Louboutins in the group.
They were all so pretty. They made me feel like an ugly duckling in comparison. I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on a wall rack. I had gone with the black dress, which was sleeveless and low over my chest. Mac had insisted I wear my most push-up of push-up bras, and I felt like my boobs were about to fall out at any minute. The dress came to just above my knee, and I wore black patent stilettos. I knew they made me nearly six feet tall, but I didn’t think flats would look right. Besides, any man who was intimidated by a tall woman didn’t deserve my virginity, no matter how much money he had.
Mac had helped with my hair, which was a mass of soft wavy curls. I was used to putting on makeup to look good for work, and I’d chosen eyeshadow to enhance my green eyes, and a wine-red lip gloss to accentuate my pouty lips.
I’d basically done everything I could. It was all up to the men on the other side of the curtain, and whether they thought I passed muster.
The auction began, and my heart instantly leaped into my throat. I could still leave. There was still time. I wouldn’t go on until last, I was told—nine girls were going before me. I assumed it had to be first come, first served. Had I know that, I would have shown up early just to get it over with.
One by one they went out. A few of them looked like they were going to throw up just before it was their turn. I held their hands, and we reassured each other that it would be all right. I noticed how none of them came back afterward. Were we expected to go right to our “date”? I guessed so.
I heard the dollar values thrown around, and it was staggering. Five thousand. Ten thousand. Twelve. Fourteen five. Up and up it went. Who was out there? Each girl’s virginity went for a pretty high price.
Eventually, it was just me, sitting alone. So many thoughts raced through my head, bouncing off each other, clamoring for attention. I was a whore, or at least about to become one. What would my mother think if she ever found out? It would break her heart if she knew I had taken such a drastic step for her. She would never forgive herself. I could never tell her. But she would want to know where I got the money for hospice care. What could I say then? I would have to come up with something when the time came. I had more than enough on my mind already.
Namely, the fact that it was my turn. The last girl to go, Theresa, had pulled down a winning bid of twelve thousand five hundred. Not too shabby. I hoped I could get that much. Otherwise, I’d be humiliated. But Theresa and all the other girls were beautiful. What hope did I have?
I remembered what Mac told me to do in the last moments before going out there. I leaned forward, pulling my boobs more fully front and center. I licked my lips to make them shinier. I pulled all of my hair over one shoulder until it cascaded down past my breasts.
I was as ready as I was ever going to be. And just in time, too, as the emcee was announcing my name.
My hand touched the curtain, ready to pull it to the side, and I instantly decided that I hated every man in that room for what they were doing. But there was no time to think about that, as my name was called and I pulled the curtain aside to face my fate.