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However uncomfortable Paul is with the idea of bidding (he put up a fight initially, saying he wasn’t going to “buy” a woman), it’s even worse now that the bidding is in full swing. Especially with some big, bad numbers flying around.
The latest bid ended at half a million dollars. And, I’m sorry to admit it, but I’m enjoying watching my brother squirm in the seat across from me.
“Jesus Christ!” he hisses, reaching under the table to irritably fix something. I’m guessing his dick. “Half a million dollars! That’s…”
“Not something you need to worry about, bro,” I say, eyeing Jane, and then her friend Mariah, in the line. “I know you’re a cheap miser. But we have plenty of spending money.” I whisper this, gesturing to myself and Jordan.
Some say that rich people are rich because we’re stingy. Mostly, I haven’t found that to be true— my friends and I would never pass up the opportunity to spend some cash fulfilling our heart’s— or cocks’— desires. Part of the joy of being rich is buying what you want without having to worry about a budget.
My brother, though, has always been the exception that people hold us as a rule when they quote that myth. He would never dream of spending so much of his own money on this, let alone anything. That’s why we, as his brother and friend, stepped in to make sure he gets what he needs, no matter the cost.
Though I know he’s trying to hide it, I can feel the cold sweat Paul has broken out in as he says, “How in the fuck do you have that kind of spending money just for my birthday, Alex? And why aren’t you investing it in a safer bet?”
It’s his voice, the stress in it, that gives him away. He glances at Jordan, looking even more green about where he got his green. Jordan broke into the medical marijuana industry early and is now greatly reaping the benefits from the chain of dispensaries he’d bought up years ago. Even though it’s since become legalized recreationally in many states, including this one which was the forerunner, Paul still gets worried that Jordan will get busted by the Feds.
You’d think Paul was the one smoking all that weed, for how paranoid he gets on Jordan’s behalf. Weed and federally illegal cash payments for that weed make Paul nervous, no matter how often Jordan’s shown him the high-class side of it or tried to reassure him that everything would be okay.
But I don’t care how uncomfortable Paul is right now, and neither does Jordan. We both see what he doesn’t seem to: that Mariah is up next.
“Don’t worry about it, dude.” Jordan takes a big swig of his spiked eggnog. “Mariah’s almost up. You know you’re gonna bid on her, so just relax and get ready to play ball. You know this kind of money is peanuts for us. Go ahead and bid. You don’t want any of the stuck-up douches here to get her instead.”
You’d better play a good game, brother, I think, settling in to watch as Mariah and the MC finally lock eyes. Mariah’s what you need, and Jane’s what I need.
I drink in her blonde, wavy hair. The curve of her body. Her full, shiny lips; dark, swooping cat-like eyes. Perpetually rosy cheeks, twinkling with a hint of glitter. Like she’s not just wearing the cold, but the starlight from outside.
I tell myself that my attraction to her isn’t serious. That it’s just about how much I need her body. The opportunity to unleash my kinky, black-leather magic on that body and make her squeal and moan, and nothing more. But somewhere in the back of my mind I know that’s not true. Even as Mariah’s getting called up to the mic, and Jane’s offering her encouragement, I can’t help but crave those same hands reaching out to me. Submitting to me and my desires.
***
Jane would be so much more brave and sure in her offering, I think, watching and listening as Mariah shakily gives her offer for an all-night free-for-all. Mariah’s a lamb, Jane a tiger. One I can’t wait to walk around on a golden chain…wearing only a collar that says, “Master’s number one slave.”
I would stay in my fantasies waiting for Jane’s turn, were it not for a surprise question for Mariah from the front, which the MC is fielding now. “Yes, sir? You have a question?”
“My question is for you, miss,” the man says. He has a deep Southern accent. Like he’s from Texas or Missouri. “Would I be correct in assuming you’re a virgin?”
I have to hold Paul back from going over to the Southerner’s table and flattening him.
Every man in the room holds his breath. The questioner’s excitement rises, too. Excitement I’m prepared to make sure Paul gets instead of these other fuckers. I’m about to get after him, yell at him to pay attention, but I see he already is. His eyes are locked on Mariah like the jaguar I know he is. From her shaking form on stage, the answer to the question already appears to be obvious. She finds Paul and locks eyes with him as she says, “Yes. I am.”
Oh, yeah, that’s what I like to see, I think, watching Paul’s eyes flicker with that admission. Finally, getting serious. Both warmth and hunger dance on his features, letting me know he’s made up his mind to possess her. Make her his.
This only intensifies as she adds, “I’m a virgin.” She clears her throat like a lamb offering her flesh to a wolf. “I’m offering my virginity, and all that entails to the man whose bid I accept and exceeds all others.”
“Wow!” The MC turns on her heels, working the audience with the brand of sexy I’m sure got her hired in a heartbeat. “Hear that, gentleman? We have a virgin!” She laughs like a businesswoman closing the best deal of her career. It’s drowned out by the wild cheering and hooting that erupted from most of the tables. “We haven’t had one of those in years, gentleman! Get those dicks and price tags up, boys!” She swaggers forward a bit more. “This girl’s first time is on the line! Make sure it’s worth it!” She pauses. “Do I have my first bid?”
The minute she asks the question, she’s drowned out by numbers.
“$50,000!” someone shouts.
I nod, though I’m surprised by how high the bidding is starting out.
“$80,000!” someone else shouts.
“$100,000,” says the cowboy who fished for her virginity.
Not only are the bids climbing fast, but so is Paul’s anxiety, apparently. He’s gone from looking confident to looking completely and totally overwhelmed. I punch him in the arm, noticing that Mariah is looking at me. “Don’t freeze up now!” I tell my brother. “Bid!”
Briefly, my eyes find Jane. She’s looking nervous for her friend. But also, excited. Pleased by such hot bidding action.
“$200,000,” calls someone from the back of the room. He’s quickly drowned out by other offers. With every offer, the bid is going up by tens of thousands of dollars.
Quickly, the bid is at $300,000, then $400,000.
But, despite yelling at him, when I return my eyes to the table Paul’s not just anxious, he’s gotten completely frozen by all the action. By the tons of testosterone flooding the room. Jordan says what I want to, and in a kind of commanding voice I didn’t think he had. “Get in there, man! We told you not to worry about it! Bid!”
Finally, I see Paul renew his eye contact with her. I see him lick his lips contemplatively, like the hungry beast I know he is.
Come on, come on, bro! Go for the kill! Again, my eyes find the stage. Mariah, then Jane. Jane briefly finds my eyes. Unlike her friend, she looks calm. Collected. She grins at me as if saying, “I can’t wait to play.”
“$600,000,” barks Paul, as if he’s tired of these posers. His bid brings my attention away from Jane momentarily, and back to our table.
“$680,000,” comes in immediate counteroffer.
“$750,000,” returns Paul, looking at Jordan. Jordan nods.
“888,000,” calls a voice way in the back.
“$900,000,” comes yet another bid. This one from a darkened corner.
Unlike Mariah and Paul, I’m not overwhelmed by these numbers. I’m not phased, and I’m going to make sure that confidence applies to my brother too, who has gone pale. “Go get her, Paul,” I growl, speaking to the part of him I know is determined. “You’ve never let anyone tell you what you can and can’t have, bro. Don’t let these posers start now.”
I lick my lips. Lips begging for a sip of whiskey. Or better yet, Jane’s nectar. I need you to get what you need so I can feel good about getting what I need. I chew on a fingernail. I won’t feel good about getting laid if you’re not.
“$900,000,” says the MC, after a short pause. “Do we have any other bids?” Another pause. “$900,000, going once, $900,000 going twice…”
Just when I think Paul’s going to back out, and that I’m going to have to punch him to get him to go higher, he jumps out of his seat and yells, “One million dollars!” His voice is loud and firm.
Murmurs go up as I would expect for such a bid, but I’m feeling good. Cocky. It’s my brother causing such a stir.
“A million dollars,” murmurs the MC. “One million for this woman’s virginity, and a whole night in which to take it in whatever way you want.” A heavy, hot sigh. “Do I have any more takers?”
Whisperings of “I’m out,” and “No way,” emerge from different tables around the room, proving that we are lions in a room full of pussies when it comes down to it. Like I always knew him to be, Paul’s a true hunter. He’s holding his ground, his position, even when others are backing out and heading for the hills.
“One million dollars going once, going twice.” The MC stops, purposely jacking up every man in the room. Jerking them off with the silence. The anticipation. Finally, as if she can feel the excitement swelling, about to burst from her, she declares, “Sold!”
In that moment, I hear Mariah laugh, almost cry, with relief. I hear Jane celebrate, and that’s when I know I need to have her. My commitment is renewed. I need to make that voice cry and scream with pleasure. Call out my name like a mortal calling out to a God.
In that same moment, my thoughts are disturbed by Paul celebrating his good fortune. “Yes!” He roars it, slamming his hands down on the table.
In no time at all, Mariah is down off the stage and in Paul’s grasp. Before I can even wish him luck, he’s already dragging his virginal prize out the door with him. The way he moves reminds me of a gambler who just won against the casino and is now running out after cashing in his chips, lest anyone try to take them from him.
Now it’s just me and Jordan.
More importantly though, it’s just me and Jane now, and it’s finally her turn.
“Well,” says the MC, as if she’s just had a fabulous meal along with everyone else. “I’m sure we’re all anxious to have that kind of excitement continue, but it’s time for the next lovely lady to put herself up for auction.”
Without even needing to be called out, Jane steps forward. She’s in the fluffiest, most form-fitting sweater I’ve ever seen in my life. Her pants remind me of something in between jeans and sweatpants. Whatever they are, they’re absolutely delicious on her.
If clothes could be an appetizer, I liked what I was tasting.
And now it’s time for me to eat even more.
“And what are you offering this evening, miss?”
Jane doesn’t answer right away. She just smiles and breathes into the microphone.
She looks at me, holding the mic like a silver cock she wants to suck. “Well,” she says, “let me think.”
We intensify our mutual stare, and as we do, we know one thing for certain: she doesn’t need to think about anything. At all. She already knows what she wants.
And so do I.