Becky
The luxury on the private jet continued after we landed. I was ushered into a massive underground complex in Nevada, deep in the innards of the Earth.
“Um, are we still in the United States?” I asked my handler fearfully. A female bodyguard had met me at the plane, and she looked more like a bulldog than a human being.
“We are,” she grunted, leaving it at that, and I nodded imperceptibly, intimidated.
Because everything that’s happened has been incredible. I’m not sure what I expected exactly, but I guess I’d been thinking we’d be in a hotel somewhere? Maybe a big hotel with a grand ballroom, where people could mingle, where I could meet the billionaires before the auction started?
But instead, we took an elevator that rushed at a million miles an hour downwards, my ears popping as we descended, and when the door slid open, we were in a brightly lit white space, like a spa.
“Welcome to Prep!” said a chirpy blonde, dressed in a white apron. And I stepped forward, unsure.
“I’m Becky?” I murmured hesitantly. “Becky Wright. I mean, Rebecca,” I corrected hastily.
The woman nodded.
“I’m Pamela, here to get you through Prep. Come on, we don’t have much time,” she chirped once more, “If you’ll come this way please. Thank you Missy, that’ll be all.”
And I shot the female bulldog a surprised look. Her name was Missy? I’d expect something more along the lines of “Xena” or “Fang,” she was that scary looking.
But the elevator doors hissed shut, and Xena disappeared, leaving me in the hands of Pamela the spa assistant. The bubbly blonde was already beckoning to me from across the room.
“Come on, come on!” she burbled. “We’re late, we’ve got to get you ready for tonight.”
I followed her with slow steps.
“But doesn’t the auction begin at nine tonight?” I asked hesitantly. “It’s only four now,” I said with a glance at my watch.
Pam turned to look at me with her hands on her hips, exasperated.
“It’s only four now, but look at you!” she exclaimed. “We need every minute, now come on,” she clucked, like a kind mother hen.
And my face flushed. I knew that I looked a little unkempt, there’d been no money to get a haircut for ages, and I’d been using packets of margarine from the cafeteria at school as lotion, we had nothing at home. As a result, I smelled a little … um, fragrant, should I say, although my skin was soft and supple, gleaming like a baby’s bottom.
“Sorry,” I muttered, chin dropping with shame. “I know the girls who come here must be so beautiful, and I’m nothing compared to them.”
Pam just shook her head.
“No it’s not that,” she clucked once more. “You’re just as beautiful as the rest, you just need a little work, that’s all. Now come on,” she said, gesturing to a huge spa-like tub. “Into the bath, tut tut.”
And from there on out, I was primped, pampered and pruned to within an inch of my life. Everything about me was buffed and polished until I was the best version of Becky I could be, curls gleaming, legs shaved, everything shaved until there was no hair anywhere on me but my head. Subtle make-up was applied by professionals and I was spritzed liberally with a delectable scent.
“Oof, what are you doing?” I asked the woman who was helping me. Because she’d aimed the spritzer right between my legs and was liberally blowing the stuff right onto my pussy. “I don’t need it there!” I exclaimed. “Just here and here,” I indicated pulse points on my wrists and behind my ears.
But the woman didn’t even reply, intent on her job. With narrowed eyes and another emphatic pump, she spritzed my pussy once more, lightly coating it in a delicious fragrance before dousing my boobs for good measure.
“You need it,” she said with a huff before marching out of the room. And I sat there stunned. I was dressed in nothing at the moment, my big white bath towel hanging on a peg on the door, and I’d just gotten huge doses of perfume on my private parts. What had the world come to? And more from nervousness more than anything else, I began to laugh, alone in the chamber. What the hell was going on? The last forty-eight hours had been incredible, a parade of insanity, and I was overloaded now, my circuits shorting. Like a hyena, I laughed hysterically, alone and naked in the white room, an inmate in an insane asylum. Holy shit, this took the cake. I’d been “glammed up” or whatever they like to call it these days, to be auctioned to a billionaire, and at this point, anything could happen. In fact, I expected it now. If the president himself showed up, I’d believe it. If they told me the world was flat and aliens had contacted Earth, I’d believe it. Because this was my life for the time being … and I was ready to be sold at this crazy place called the Billionaires Club.