Chapter 9
Radha doesn’t believe a thing I tell her that night. Not about the money, or Cash. It’s not until I start chatting with him online and show her the logs that she buys the possibility that soon I might really be a millionaire.
“I still don’t know,” she says. “This is still too weird, Wendy. You’re forever going to know that you sold yourself. This is a big deal.”
“Does it have to be, though?” I argue. “Would it be better if I’d lost my virginity to Chuck Parker, half drunk after prom, in the back seat of his Camry?”
She rolls her eyes and stands up on our couch. “At least that would have been because you wanted to do it with Chuck. And maybe it would have been fun.”
“Maybe this will be fun,” I counter. I don’t have to add, If Cash wins. The thought of having to submit to Orson still nauseates me. I should just refuse to let him bid on me, but I can’t dismiss the idea yet. Not if it could mean tens of millions of dollars, a fortune that would set me and my future children up for life.
“You’re going to drive us both crazy,” Radha mumbles, sitting back down. She flips on the TV and finds an episode of “Parks & Recreation.”
She’s right. There’s not much else to think about now, so I turn off my phone and join her in front of the television.
—
I get directions to The Gala on the morning of — it’s being held exactly a week after The Meet at the same venue. This time there is an instruction to dress formally, as if for a wedding. I pick out a silver sequined, taffeta floor-length gown with a scoop neck. It’s the nicest thing I own, and I’ve only worn it a few times.
Additionally, there’s one other notification: Prior to the main event, all applicants will be given a short medical examination. This is mandatory, unless one wishes to opt out of the auction.
A medical examination doesn’t sound so bad. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a doctor for a routine physical — so at the very least, I’ll get something out of the night.
Radha entreats me to reconsider one last time before I leave. “Please,” she says. “I know Cash seems nice, but don’t forget: he’s still the kind of prick who goes to auctions to buy sex with virgins!”
“To stop Orson Bishop!” I really believe Radha’s misjudged Cash. “He’s not a bad guy.”
“That remains to be seen, Wendy. He could be playing you to get what he wants.”
She’s wrong — I know she is, but there’s no convincing her. “I promise I’ll be careful,” I say again, though it feels like it’s for the one-hundredth time.
“What about Bishop? Are you going to let him bid on you?”
I want to lie to her, but I can’t do it. “Maybe,” I say. “I have to think of my future, Radha. I mean, thirty million? I have to keep that as a possibility.”
“No, you don’t! No amount of money is worth putting yourself in that creep’s hands for a night.”
We could go around in circles for hours, so I nod and grab my purse. “We’ll talk about it later,” I say. “Have a good night.”
“Yeah, you too,” she mumbles.
—
When I arrive, a bouncer directs me to a hallway where a dozen women are waiting in line. They busy themselves with their phones, texting and browsing. I’m surprised that none are chatting, as if there was some rule forbidding it. A few of them give me the stink eye as I take my place in line, and as much as I’d like to ask what I did to offend them, nothing about their demeanor makes me think this is a good idea.
One by one, the other women head inside a room nearby. When they come out, only a couple minutes later, they all somehow seem a little flustered. I suppose it is a bit odd to have an examination before a party, and while wearing formal evening-wear, but is it that unpleasant?
Finally it’s my turn; a couple other women have arrived and taken a place in line behind me, but only a couple. When I turn the corner, I nearly gasp at the sight: it’s not the bright, well-lit doctor’s exam room I expected — it’s a hotel room. The king-size bed looks incredibly comfortable, and the furnishings are stylishly modern, but something about this feels wrong.
A middle-aged, sandy-haired woman in a black gown is waiting by the bed. “Hello, I’m Dr. Nora. Please, lie down and pull up your dress,” she says.
“What’s going on? I thought this was a medical exam.”
“It’ll be very brief,” she says. “We just have to confirm your eligibility.”
I stare blankly for a moment before I figure out what she means. They need to see my… I don’t even want to finish the thought. It’s repulsive.
Yet, in fairness, anyone could just claim to be a virgin, couldn’t they? If someone is going to spend millions of dollars, a little proof isn’t totally unreasonable, is it? If I were buying a priceless piece of memorabilia, I’d want the provenance, right?
Still, in the back of my mind I hear Radha voicing her disapproval. How many red flags do you need, Wendy?
She gives me a paper with a bar code, which I photograph with The Virgin Exchange app on my phone. “This will allow us to track in our system that you have passed the exam,” she explains.
Unhappily, I spread my legs and close my eyes. “I thought I was going to see a doctor,” I mutter.
“I am a doctor,” the woman replies. “And this isn’t my only job here. I’m on-call for emergencies too.”
“Ahh.”
I hear the squeak of plastic and open my eyes long enough to see Dr. Nora putting on a disposable latex glove. “Any allergies?” she asks.
“No.”
“Are you on any medications at the moment?”
“No.”
I half expect her to ask if I’m sexually active, but the answer to that should be pretty obvious.
Then I feel her fingers very gently, and only for a few seconds.
“Okay, you’re done,” she says, pulling off the glove. She takes back the paper with the bar code and scans it. “Have a nice night,” she says, giving me a smile.
Yeah, sure.
—
Leaving the “exam” room, I understand why many of the other women seemed upset. That was not the most uplifting experience of my life. And what’s more, a serious doubt creeps into my mind about the auction. If being inspected like a piece of meat felt so degrading, how could I possibly go through with all the twisted games Orson wants to play? And could I even sell my virginity at all? I know I can back out of the auction if I want, and now might be the time.
But then I think about the Eiffel Tower. Big Ben. The Leaning Tower of Pisa. The Parthenon.
Radha’s right about one thing: I am going to drive myself crazy.
By the time I get to the hall, many of the buyers have arrived, though there are fewer than last time — I guess the ones who aren’t bidding either don’t feel like showing up, or weren’t invited.
I spot Cash by the bar and head over to meet him, and my mood begins to pick up — I find myself trotting rather than walking. When he sees me, his face lights up with a big smile. Like all the men here, he’s wearing a black tie and tuxedo. The sight is breathtaking.
“Wendy,” he says. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” I reply. Even though we’ve spoken every day, I realize that I’ve missed him. Talking online really doesn’t compare to seeing him in person.
“You look fantastic, by the way. That’s a lovely gown.”
“Thank you,” I say. “You look good too.”
As he catches the bartender’s attention to order me a glass of wine, I see that the other women have also apparently gotten over the examination and now dance and laugh with the others.
“Hey,” I say. “Earlier, a few of the other girls were giving me some nasty looks. What’s that all about?”
Cash chuckles. “You’re the belle of the ball, Wendy. They know there’s a pair of billionaires fighting over you, and they’re jealous.”
“Oh,” I mumble, stunned. I’d never imagined they could be jealous of me.
“You could make more than all of them put together, if you go through with this,” Cash adds. “And they know it.”
He’s grinning like a kid just let out for recess, and it’s going straight to my core. I try to ignore the ache inside, but I feel a dampness spreading through my panties, and realize, who wouldn’t want the attention of this man?
“So, what happens after you win an auction?” I ask, trying to change the subject — though not entirely. “Do you go and gloat to Orson?”
“No,” he laughs. “He knows when he’s lost.”
That’s mature, at least. “What about the girl? Have there been a lot?”
“A few,” he admits. “What about them?”
I can imagine being in their shoes: I’ve just been promised thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of dollars, and all for the pleasure of making love to a man as handsome and charming as Cassius Swain. Now I’m convinced Radha’s the crazy one — who wouldn’t want that?
“Well, what do you do after a win?” I ask “Open up a briefcase full of cash and then go somewhere to do it?”
Laughing more, he shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, Wendy, I take the girl out on a very nice date — a fancy dinner, some kind of show, a visit to a wonderfully romantic spot… something she’ll never forget. And then she gets the money.”
“Would you take me out on one of those dates?” I ask, feeling a little high from just the thought of it. “I’d like to see what you have in store for me.”
“Of course, I’d love to,” he says, his eyes growing lustful and eager.
“Good, I’m looking forward to it. Wining and dining and… wait,” I say. “What about the sex? Do you and the virgins…?”
With a shrug, Cash says, “If they want to, and I like them, then I don’t turn them down.”
My mind is racing, trying to put this together. He doesn’t turn them down? “So, you’ll spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to win a woman’s virginity, and then not even… get what you paid for?”
He shakes his head, suddenly looking very serious. “I don’t force people to do anything they don’t want, Wendy. That’s not the kind of person I am.”
“Sure, I get that — but then why still pay?”
“Because I’m obligated to,” he replies.
“And the girl isn’t obligated to have sex with you?”
“The auctioneer might say so, but not me.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what else to add. His admission has caught me completely off-guard. How can somebody spend all that money for nothing? The idea boggles my mind. Strangely enough, it reminds me of Radha and her stubborn insistence on paying for the trip to Europe. She might be surprised to hear how much she and Cash have in common.
“Do you think I’m going to do that?” I ask nervously. “Just take your money and not… go through with… it?”
“I’m not worried,” he says, giving me a wink. “You’re here for the money but that’s not all you’re interested in, is it?” He takes my hand in his, and then using his other index finger, traces a path up my arm and to my neck, and then my lips. “You want to be touched.”
When he takes his finger from my lip, I almost cry out, pained by its departure. However, his hand moves around to my back, pulling me in close to him, “You ache to be claimed,” he continues, caressing my bottom. “And I think you want me to be the man who claims you.”
His hand maneuvers up my dress and between my thighs, feeling my tender entrance and massaging it softly. I look around, terrified that someone is watching, but also I want him to go harder. It feels impossibly good, and I gasp after not knowing I was holding my breath.
“I would love to be your first, Wendy, and the pleasure…” — he says, pulling away his hand to show me his fingers, which glisten from my wetness — “…would definitely be yours.”
My legs wobble, blood rushes to my head, and I moan in frustration, wanting Cash now.
“But I won’t force you,” he says instead. “The money is yours no matter what.”
“That’s really cool,” I mumble, my heart still pounding.
He waves it off. “It’s really not that big a deal.”
I’m about to argue it is, but stop. I’d nearly forgotten: he is getting something, isn’t he? He doesn’t need the sex — he just needs to beat Orson.
“Cash,” I say, feeling a surge of dread. “Which is more important to you? Being with me, or winning me from Orson?”
For once, the look on his face crumbles like a building that’s just had its foundations rocked. “I…” he stammers.
“Is someone talking about me?” comes a new voice, stealing Cash and I away from the question. We turn to see Orson Bishop with an ugly grin on his face.
“Mr. Bishop,” Cash says coldly. “Always a master at showing up when you’re least wanted.”
“Don’t be rude, Cassius,” he replies. “You’re supposed to be the nice guy, remember?”
Wait, what is he talking about?
“Shut up, Orson,” Cash growls. “I’m a lot nicer when you’re not around, believe me.”
“Of course you are. Wouldn’t want to tarnish the white knight’s shining armor, would you?”
“Orson, I swear-” he starts, though he cuts himself off.
The older man turns to me, and his expression reminds me of a jack-o-lantern, gruesome and horrific in its mirth. “Mr. Swain gets mad so easily, Ms. Hart. He thinks he’s good at this game, but there’s something he always forgets.”
Game? Glowering, I ball my fists. Through my teeth, I ask, “What’s that?”
“Cash is king,” says Orson. “Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, whoever has the most, wins.”
“That’s not true,” I counter, but it comes out weak and unconvincing.
Orson chuckles. “Of course it is. Look at Mr. Swain’s business. It’s booming ever since he gave his staff a nice, fat raise. He acts like some kind of visionary man of the people, but all he did is flash some cash. He didn’t befriend all of his employees; he didn’t learn their names and their life stories. He just… paid them.”
Cash’s face darkens like a storm cloud. I’ve never seen him so mad. The smoldering intensity thickens the air with raw, barely contained passion. “You need to walk away,” he says. “Now.”
“Not until I’ve got what I want: Ms. Hart.” He looks at me hungrily. “She’s no idiot. When she sees the millions and millions of dollars I’ll bid, ten times more than you’ll pay, she’ll do what makes sense; she’ll bow down to the king.”
I’m about ready to slug Orson. I’ve never felt so infuriated. Being spoken of as though I have no agency in the matter, as if I’m just a trophy on a table waiting to be scooped up — it’s demeaning. Radha would be dragging me away, cursing out the both of them, if she saw all this.
“She’s not a whore, either,” rumbles Cash, trying to contain his rage. “She’s not going to be bought buy a sadistic creep like you.”
“That’s better, Cassius. Stand up for your damsel and-”
“Enough!” I shout, not caring if it causes a scene. “If the two of you want to treat this like a game, then we can play a game,” I tell them, watching both of them so I can be sure they’re listening carefully. “I’m going to choose both of you for the auction, and then we’ll see who’s playing to win, won’t we?”
“Wendy, think about this-” Cash starts, but I silence him with a glare.
“No. The two of you are lucky I don’t back out of the auction completely right now. Don’t think I won’t.”
Orson can’t help but smirk when I say this, but he’s wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
“You both better play your cards very, very carefully,” I warn. There’s so much more I’d like to add, but I’m reeling, awash in fury. I feel on the verge of breaking into tears, and I refuse to let them see me cry. “I’m leaving. Good night,” I conclude, twisting and marching away.
“Let the games begin,” Orson snickers, but I don’t stop.