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Against everything I’m inclined to believe — especially after finding nothing about this supposed Exchange Club online and being given inexact directions — we arrive. We’ve made it down the basement steps, past Mariah’s fears and mine about whether we’re going to be kidnapped or not, and now we’ve also made it past the doorman.
“Come on,” I say to Mariah as we walk through the dim, curtained entryway of the club, “They’re waiting for us.” I pause. “I hope.”
Mariah just murmurs, “Uh-huh,” and keeps moving forward with me. Her movements are stiff. Somewhat distracted.
When I look ahead, I see why. We’ve entered the main body of the Exchange Club. Far from being a dingy, falling apart corner of a condemned building like I thought we might be walking into, it’s like time traveling into turn-of-the-century elegance. 1800s or something like that, with all the carved columns, tall ceilings, decorative curtains and the grand stage at the front. It seriously looks like something taken from the Queen of England’s castle and dropped right into the basement of an Aspen hotel.
The tables and chairs all around us are dark shadows against the dimly lit room and are only accentuated by the red carpet underneath our feet. But even through the shadows, it is easy to see these tables and chairs are also from a bygone era. Swooped backs, curved legs — much like the many men and women seated in these chairs and leaned over the tables.
Some seem to be here as husband-wife couples. Others are just groups of older men while others are groups of women. Young and old. Groups of girlfriends, maybe even lovers. No matter what their arrangement, there’s one thing that ties them all together. Their love and use of expensive jewelry. Nearly every person is wearing an admirable amount of gold, silver diamonds and other precious gems. More than I’ve ever seen in one place. Even on my dad or his girlfriends. Believe me when I say they like to wear a lot of jewelry. Especially when he’s the one paying for it.
Along with the distinctive smells of cologne and perfume, I smell food. And not just any food. Expensive cheeses, meats, wines, and fruit. I know it’s weird to be able to smell these kinds of things since they aren’t necessarily cooked, but I’ve been to enough cocktail parties to be able to tell rich food and wine are on deck.
I’m a little embarrassed at my watering mouth, but I guess it’s not surprising since I haven’t had much to eat since lunch, and that was just a small quiche at a nearby restaurant.
Before my stomach growls loud enough to disturb the hushed, high-class aura of the place, a woman’s voice fills the room.
By the semi-echoed quality of it, I know it’s coming from a microphone. I look to the stage and see her standing there. She’s wearing a fedora, a suit and bow tie. Whatever she’s saying, I catch her in the middle of it. “…Shortly, but on behalf of The Exchange Club, please allow me to extend my sincerest welcome to members and invited guests.” A small pocket of clapping, like a gust of wind flows over the space. “Welcome. We’re glad to have you. We hope you enjoy your night with us.” Saying this, the woman in the fedora tips her hat and moves to exit the stage.
Immediately I move to intercept her. But not before glimpsing a face I recognize. It’s Alex. My body reacts by tingling all over.
He’s staring out from the shadows cast by his friends. In order to keep him from knowing how excited I am to see him, I pull Mariah with me.
“Let’s go talk with the lady from the stage,” I say, making quick work of the space between us and Fedora Girl. “I bet she’ll know what we do as invited guests.”
The woman sees us. She pins us with her eyes as if she knows we’re newbies. Fresh meat for the taking.
“Good evening, ladies,” she says, appraising us. “I assume we’re here for tonight’s auction, yes?”
“Uh, yeah? I guess.” I tighten my grip on Mariah’s hand and yank her along so that she’s standing next to me. “My friend and I were invited here by a couple of good-looking guys, and all they told us was just to show up.”
“Good!” She smiles, giving us both a once over again. Our curvature is what she seems to be studying in detail now. Something I’m not sure I’m comfortable with. “Well, the auction is this way.” She turns on her heels. “So, if you’ll just follow me…”
“Wait!” Mariah stops short, anxiety evident in her voice. “Wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Patiently, slowly, the woman turns her eyes back to us.
“What auction?” sputters Mariah. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh.” The woman’s eyes light up. “So, you don’t know. How interesting.”
“Can you explain what the auction is about. What this place is.” A cold sweat covers my back. I’m a little stressed and confused by what’s supposed to go on here.
I’m not liking Fedora Girl’s attitude. That I-know-a-secret-and-you-don’t-so-you’re-dumb attitude I hate so much. I also don’t like how casually this woman says things like auction. I’m about to smack her perfectly applied lipstick sideways.
If she’s aware of how I’m feeling, she doesn’t give me any hint. She looks us both straight in the eye and says, “Ladies, here at The Exchange Club, we have a special practice.” She gives us a Miss America smile. “We allow wealthy gentlemen to ‘buy’ beautiful women — that’s you — for a particular price, for a particular act or activity.” She pauses, one in which she seems to be enjoying the possibilities for me and Mariah. “If the gentleman wins the bid, you are his for the night to do whatever activity or activities he paid you for.” She looks meaningfully at Mariah and then at me. “Most of these men pay handsomely, even for dinner, so it could be worth your while to stick around.”
Pay? Handsomely? I swallow thickly. So, what is this? Some kind of legalized pseudo-prostitution club? I look briefly around the room. At the men and women seated in the dusky corners. I mean, I guess I could understand it if this room was filled with a bunch of poor bastards.
Again, I notice their heavy rings. Their elaborate necklaces, wristwatches — some of which I’ve worn, and my dad has purchased — and I know not one single person here is poor. These people have as much money if not more than my dad does. There’s no way they would need to do this for the money.
Queasy sweat covers the back of my neck and chest. One that has me questioning whether I’m scared out of my mind or so excited I might die. So why are Paul, Jordan, and Alex here? And why did they invite us? In agony, I search for Alex, but I don’t find him as easily as before.
But it doesn’t matter because my world — the world in which Mariah is the sane, reasonable one, with small comfort zones — shatters in the next instant.
“Let’s do it,” says Mariah resolutely. And it’s not a timid or unsure request. It’s ready. Willing.
I snap my head around to look at her. “What? Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m serious,” she says, taking both of my hands in hers. “Let’s do it! This could be just the thing I need, Jane.”
I sigh. A million thoughts race around my head. The best thing to do is to probably just go with it and to stop asking myself questions. What happens if Mariah does this? What happens if I do this? What would my dad think if he ever knew this is what my friend and I did for fun instead of studying? Instead of staying inside where it’s safe and warm? Then, as those thoughts run through my head, something else follows.
Something warm and mischievous. In its flirtatious shadows, I see images of me with Alex. Of getting undressed and then redressed in leather. In schoolgirl and nurse costumes; in straps and chains. I might just get what I want. I might not only get to experience everything I’ve ever wanted to, but I might just get my first time with a guy who is actually experienced. Knowledgeable. And neither my dad nor Mariah will ever know the difference. A bright, naughty smile lifts the corners of my lips. “You’re right. Let’s do it, girl!”
“Excellent, ladies.” The woman smiles and leads us towards the center of the room. “Right this way.”
***
Mariah and I stand on the stage with a sizable group of other women. It’s hot up here under the lights, but it’s exciting. The bidding has just gotten underway, and already I can feel a cord of excitement building between all of us. The first woman has been called up by Fedora Girl to make her offer, and we’re all watching.
Taking notes.
The first woman’s offer is tame, and the money offer is too. It’s for dinner and conversation, and the woman readily agrees to the first and only offer she gets. Chicken, I think.
The next woman is quickly called up. Her offer is riskier, and more along my lines: a blow job. A five-star blow job, to quote her. With the riskier offer comes a bigger reward, and that’s when I start to feel more than just on display. I start to feel powerful. A force to be reckoned with, though we’re all stood up here like objects and animals.
The next bids are interesting, but not of too much interest to me.
Until we get to a woman whose bid is the kind of ambitious thing I’m thinking I’ll do when it’s my turn: a whole night together, no holds barred, where she will do anything, and everything requested of her.
The numbers immediately begin to fly up for this. Quicker than most of the women on stage with me seem to think possible. The dollar amounts reach into the tens of thousands, and then hundreds of thousands. Oh, my.
Eventually, after an intense bidding war, the all-nighter woman accepts a final offer from a man near the middle of the room. He sounds like he’s not from around here. European or something exotic. Whatever it is, it’s nice on my ears. Different. Exciting.
Which is how I’m feeling about my upcoming moment in the spotlight, and what I’ve already planned to offer. A whole night to do whatever you want to me, particularly you like to “push” the definition of “whatever.”
I grin to myself. That’ll get me the right bidders. And I don’t mean in terms of money. I fold my hands together in front of me and straighten my posture. This isn’t about the money for me. I just like the idea of being thoroughly owned. I bite my lip, hazarding a glance toward the table I know Alex is at, but don’t catch his eye. He’s too tuned into his brother.
As my thoughts come to an end, Mariah nudges me. She gives me a comforting smile. I receive it and return it tenfold. “I still can’t believe we’re up here,” I mouth to her, as the spotlight inches closer to her.
To this, Mariah just sticks out her tongue and gives me the naughtiest grin I’ve ever seen on those studious lips. She’s as turned on by this as I am.