I take a deep breath.

I’m so overwhelmed I can hardly breathe.

I’m in a fancy dressing room, all satin and velvet, and have been given expensive lingerie of black lace to put on. I look at myself in the mirror, all dolled up like a plaything, and hardly recognize myself. I know instinctively that whatever happens tonight, my life will be altered forever. Nothing will ever be the same after this.

I’m about to sell my body to the highest bidder, and if my grandfather ever found out, it would break his heart.

I know he’d rather die, to miss out on his surgery, than see me go through with something like this.

But I also know that if he never finds out about it, he’ll be able to go on and live many happy years. He’ll be stressed out about the farm, he might even lose it, but at least he’ll be alive.

The usher knocks on the door.

“Yes,”

“They’re ready for you, Ms. Madison.”

I look at myself again in the mirror. My makeup is perfect. My hair is hanging down appealingly around my shoulders. The lingerie presents all of my assets in the best possible light. This is about as good as I’ll ever look, I tell myself. I just pray my body, my virginity, is worth more than twenty thousand dollars to someone. That’s the cost of the surgery and that’s the only reason I’m doing this.

My mind jumps back to Clive, the man who examined me to check that I was a virgin.

Could I live with him as the highest bidder?

I’m not sure. There was a time when I’d have said yes, but after meeting Wes, after spending time with him and Brady, I feel like I’m not as single as I once was. I’ve committed something to Wes. It’s hard to say what, exactly, because I know if he found out about this he’d probably fire me on the spot, but there’s something between us.

On the other hand, I could do a lot worse than Clive.

At least he’s hot. He’s in his thirties but that’s still young.

At least he’s not just some rich old man.

“If you’ll follow me, please,” the usher says.

He’s wearing a black tuxedo with white shirt and as I follow him down the long corridor, I’m again taken aback by the opulence and wealth of my surroundings. The crystal chandeliers, the rich red carpeting, the velvet curtains, all serve to give the night and this situation a surreal feeling.

The usher leads me through some thick black curtains and immediately I have to squint.

Bright spotlights are shining on me from every direction and I raise my hands to shield my eyes.

I’m on some sort of stage, raised up, and as my eyes grow accustomed to the light, I can see that there are men sitting in chairs around the stage, looking up at me.

This is it, I think to myself.

This is the moment.

The usher leaves the stage through the curtain we just entered on. From somewhere above me, a voice sounds through a speaker.

“Gentlemen, I present to you one of the finest specimens we’ve had on offer in a very long time. There’s already been quite a buzz about this offering.”

There’s a murmur of appreciation from the men in the seats, who I still can’t make out in any detail because of the brightness of the spotlights.

“Ms. Madison,” the voice says. “If you’d be so kind as to move your hands away from your face.”

I lower my hands to my sides and instantly feel more exposed.

I can see the men are out there, like movie watchers in a darkened theater. They’re being given a chance to look at the merchandise before deciding how much they want to bid.

“Please step forward toward the front of the stage,” the voice says.

I look up to see that there’s a man in a booth up there, sort of like a DJ at a night club. I can make out his face faintly as he’s got a light on. There’s a microphone in front of his face.

“At this point,” the voice says, hesitating slightly, “we ask that you remove the lingerie.”

I gasp.

I hadn’t been expecting this and I know that’s why the voice hesitated.

I have a sense that there are about twenty or thirty men in the audience, and I feel very uncomfortable about removing the lingerie. Even coming out here with it on was already pushing me to my limit.

Then I think of my grandfather and the fact that I need a full twenty thousand dollars for this deal, or it will all have been for nothing. Twenty thousand is a lot to ask for a single night with a girl, even if the men are super rich and even if I am a virgin.

I’ve got to do my part to sell this.

Slowly, I reach back behind me and unclasp the bra. It falls to the ground and there’s a murmur from the crowd. I walk around on the stage like an animal in a zoo being watched by tourists. They seem to be waiting for more, so I pull down my panties and step out of them, doing so as gracefully as I can manage. Now I’m just wearing the garter and stockings, but I feel like they’re more flattering if I leave them on, so I don’t remove them. I walk along the edge of the stage and as my eyes adjust to the light, try to make out the men in the crowd.

And that’s when I see him. The man from the virginity exam. He’s watching me intently, leering up at me, and suddenly, I forget how I ever could have found him attractive. In the splendor of his apartment, I had been taken in by his appearance and wealth, but now that I see him sitting here with a bunch of perverts, I realize that there’s no part of me that wants him to win this auction.

Clive was his name. I’ll never forget it.

Then the voice says, “Gentlemen, I’m going to open the bidding at one thousand dollars.”

Some man, by his voice I can tell he’s older, speaks up.

“One thousand,” he says.

I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. I don’t want Clive to win me, but I know that in all likelihood, the other men in this room are going to be even worse and more revolting than he is. I mean, what kind of man would attend an event like this?

“Two thousand,” another voice says, and I notice that it’s Clive.

I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“Three thousand,” a third man says.

“Four thousand,” Clive chimes in again.

“Five thousand,” another man says.

The bidding is taking off now, going up in thousand dollar increments as I strut around the stage, being careful not to twist my ankle in the exceptionally high heels they’ve given me.

The numbers pass ten thousand, and then fifteen thousand, and when Clive raises his hand and says, “Twenty thousand,” I let out a huge sigh of relief.

I know what that bid means. It means my grandfather isn’t going to die.

It’s worked.

I did it.

I almost feel like jumping in the air in celebration.

Which is ridiculous because this thing is just beginning. I’m at the very start of my journey, not the finish line. I was in this to get twenty grand, but now that I’ve got it, I realize that the hard part isn’t going to be the money, it’s going to be delivering the goods. I still have no idea who’s going to win this auction, and no matter who it is, I’m going to have to go home with him and give him everything he wants.

The bidding passes twenty-five thousand dollars. Then it passes fifty thousand.

I’m still walking around the stage, trying to look attractive, and the numbers are getting a little bit surreal.

When Clive calls out that he’s bidding seventy-five thousand, to beat out yet another bid from one particularly gross old guy in the back row, even the announcer starts to show his surprise.

“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” he says, his voice giving away an excitement that as an auctioneer he should probably be better at hiding.

There’s a slight murmur from the audience, and I can tell they weren’t expecting the price to go anywhere near this high. With this much money I’ll be able to pay for grandfather’s treatment, and pay off the debts he owes on the farm.

“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” the announcer repeats. “Going once.”

He waits for a higher bid but no one says a word. Looks like we’ve hit the limit.

“Seventy-five thousand dollars, going twice.”

Clive is getting up out of his seat, getting ready to come and claim his prize no doubt.

I take a deep breath as I realize he’s the one I’ll be losing my virginity to after all.

It’s not the way I always imagined I’d be having my first time, but sometimes you have to take life as it’s dealt.

“One million dollars,” a calm, clear voice says from somewhere at the back of the room.

There’s a collective gasp and everyone turns to see where the outrageous bid came from.

A man is entering the auditorium and walking toward the stage. There’s a sound of ruffling papers up in the announcer’s box, no doubt as they’re seeking to check if the bid is real.

“Please identify yourself,” the announcer says to the bidder.

Into the light steps none other than Wes Eastwood.

My stomach does a backflip. I can’t believe it.

“One million dollars, going once,” the announcer says, and the entire room turns to Clive to see if he’s going to defend his bid.

He says nothing.

“Going twice.”

The pause seems to last forever.

“Sold.”