“You’re up,” purrs the MC as she adjusts her fedora.

I nod, and step forward toward her. As I move, my stomach pitches with a mix of nerves and excitement. Jane whispers encouragement to me as she lets go of my hand, and I reach out for the microphone.

I take it in fingers that feel clumsy. Almost numb, but not quite. I bring it up to my mouth, feeling my throat shiver.

“And what are you going to offer these fine gentlemen tonight, young lady?” Though I have heard this question asked of other women at least 10 times already, it’s different now that it’s my turn to answer.

It takes me a small eternity to respond. Not because I don’t know what I want, but because my courage is failing me. Having a bunch of different guys looking at me is a lot more intimidating than I ever imagined.

It’s only when I look over at Paul, and see him watching me, that I relax enough to speak. “I’m…” I close my eyes momentarily, feeling completely naked. “I’m offering a whole night with me.” I swallow thickly, and hate how moist it sounds magnified by the speaker.

“Good start,” murmurs the MC. She lets me hear her high heels pace in front of me. “What else?”

There’s a hungry beast behind those words. A woman who knows how to sniff out inexperience and innocence, and feed on it.

In my head, I picture my ideal man. Paul. The way I want him to ravage me. The way I want him to take complete and utter control of my body, mind and spirit. I don’t just want to lose my virginity. I want to lose complete control.

Before I’ve even made the decision to speak, I hear myself say, “I’m offering to the man who wins the bid, the right to do whatever he wants with me. Anything you can imagine, I want you to do it. Dominate me. Eat me. Possess me.” I blush deeply, thinking about what Mom would think if she knew where I was right now.

I hear the woman in the fedora hum appreciatively. It’s as if she’s meditating on the possibilities of that, right along with the men. Then, “Yes, sir? You have a question?”

I open my eyes, hoping Paul is the man with the question. Unfortunately, it’s not him. It’s a man sitting closer to me.

“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?”

The directness of his question nearly steals all the breath from my lungs. My fingers almost lose their grip on the microphone. I’m embarrassed to feel myself shaking so much. But I don’t look at the gentleman who asked the question, nor any of the other men around him. They have eyes like hungry sharks. Finding Paul and his steady, handsome eyes again, I answer. “Yes. I am,” I say.

To my pleasure, I see Paul’s face and eyes light up. Not with the same mindless hunger that the other men do when they hear the same words out of my mouth, but with something warmer. Possessive, as if he has already made me his, and he’s only making the other men think they have a chance at me.

“I’m a virgin.” Lightly, I clear my throat. “I’m offering my virginity, and all that entails to the man whose bid I accept and exceeds all others.”

“Woow!” The MC turns on her heels, working the audience with her own brand of sexy. “Here 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’s erupted from most of the tables.

“We haven’t had one of those since last ski season, gentlemen! I guess all the virgins come to Aspen on ski trips. 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 it’s starting.

“$80,000!” someone else shouts.

“$100,000,” says the cowboy type. I ignore him, and look to Paul’s table. He seems to be talking to his brother and friend who are at the table with him. He looks as surprised as I do that the price is already so high. Or maybe it’s more that he’s anxious.

His brother gazes at me, punching his arm. I see him mouth what looks like, “Don’t worry. Bid!”

“$200,000,” calls someone from the back of the room. He’s quickly drowned out by other offers. With every bid, the amount is going up by tens of thousands of dollars.

In no time at all, the bid is at $300,000, then $400,000!

I nod to each of these offers, but I still don’t break my eyes away from Paul. Not for long, anyway. Please, Paul, I think, please bid on me. Make a bid. Any bid.

I bite my lip, looking around at the other tables and the men seated there. None of them are as attractive or alluring as Paul. Please! I look back at Paul’s table, just in time to see the tag-a-long friend whose name starts with a J but escapes me now growl, “Get in there, man! We told you not to worry about it! Bid!”

Paul locks eyes with me and I see him lick his lips contemplatively.

I don’t want any of these other guys. I just want you!

“$600,000,” barks Paul, as if he’s tired of these posers.

“$680,000,” comes in immediate counteroffer.

“$750,000,” returns Paul, looking at his brother. The brother nods.

“888,000,” calls a voice way in the back. I nod, though I’m not sure they’ll be able to see anything.

“$900,000,” comes yet another bid. This one from a darkened corner.

My knees are beginning to shake. Not only from how much money is being thrown around, but because I’m starting to get nervous. My eyes go back to Paul, who looks a little pale, but determined.

“$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 decided he’s going to back out, he jumps out of his seat, yelling, “A million dollars!” His voice is loud and firm, causing my knees to quake for a new reason.

Murmurs go up just about as fast as my heart rate.

“A million dollars,” murmurs the MC. “A 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. But not from Paul’s. He stands right where he is, shoulders back, eyes fixed on me.

“A million dollars going once, going twice.” The MC stops for what feels like an unnecessarily long time, making me feel like my heart’s going to stop. Like it’s going to beat right out of my chest. Finally, she says, “Sold!”

In that moment, I can’t help it. I laugh — almost cry — with relief. “Thank God,” I murmur, about to lose it.

In that same exact moment, I also hear Paul celebrate his good fortune. “Yes!” He practically roars, slamming his hands down on the table.

I’m smiling as the MC asks me to get off the stage and go meet him. I do so quickly.

In no time at all, I’m in Paul’s grasp, and being led back out the doors of The Exchange Club. But not before I look back at Jane, whose just been called out for her turn.

She sees me looking, and gives me a subtle wink. Thumbs up.

I think I see “Good luck, girl,” on her lips, but I can’t be sure. Before I can see much more, I’m out the door, and being chased up the stairs by Paul.

He really is a Jaguar.

It won’t be long before he pounces.