Rebecca
I shook my head, woozy and delirious. Where was I? Lights flickered fuzzily before me and I blinked hard, trying to focus. What had happened? Why was it so cold?
And suddenly, it all came rushing back. I sat up with a jolt and was immediately restrained. Holy shit, they’d tied me to a mattress of some sort, I was in a bright white room with all sorts of gleaming stainless steel equipment, bound like a prisoner in an insane asylum.
“Help!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the chamber. “Help, help!”
Immediately, a middle-aged woman bustled in, matronly in a spotless white nurse’s outfit.
“My, my, you’re a feisty one,” she remarked, looking down at the clipboard in her hand. “Rebecca, is it?”
I choked down a scream, panic barely under control.
“Please, let me go,” I panted. “Why am I tied up like this? Please.”
The woman shushed me soothingly, putting down the clipboard before moving to the bedside and undoing the restraints.
“We tied you down for this reason exactly,” she said kindly. “Because we were afraid you’d wake up with a jolt and hurt yourself, maybe even throwing yourself right out of the bed.”
I looked at her skeptically. The bed had rails, it would be pretty hard to catapult yourself over gleaming metal guards. But the woman shook her head again, clucking reassuringly.
“It looks hard, but people have done it,” she added wryly. “When patients go through a shocking experience, they often wake with a jolt and knock their heads, or knock something else important on a hard surface. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve found patients in a heap on the floor, and that’s bad news because in addition to your fragile mental state, you’ve wrenched your back or strained an ankle. Trust me, the restraints are for your own good.”
And breathing hard, I held still as she unbuckled me, loosely shaking my arms and legs as they buzzed back to life.
“Where am I?” I asked shakily, trying to get my bearings, looking around frantically. The room was nondescript, a gleaming white box filled with equipment, and I had no idea where we could be. “Where am I?” I demanded again.
The woman just shot me a look before sighing.
“At the medical bay, of course,” raising her eyebrows. “Where else?”
And suddenly it all made sense. Of course the Billionaires Club had its own mini-hospital. Money was no object, so the Club probably had every medical advance at its fingertips, doctors and nurses on call, all sorts of controlled substances on premises. It was crazy what the Club offered, but that hardly mattered because now I was in deep ka-ka. I had to be. The auction whirled through my mind, the voice, the man, my aborted attempt at being sexy. Oh god, oh god. I’d gone up on stage, done everything the woman had commanded, and yet it’d all been a giant fail. Oh no, oh no. What was going to happen?
“Who are you?” I asked forcefully, fixing the nurse with a look. “Why am I here?”
The middle aged woman just clucked again.
“My, my, like I said, a feisty one,” she shook her head, checking some boxes on her clipboard. “I’m Nancy, and here, drink this, you’ll feel better.”
I peered into the cup she held out to me, suspicious.
“Just water,” she singsonged. “Nothing scary.”
And although I was still on edge, I accepted the water and drank in deep, long gulps. Ah, that hit the spot. I was so dehydrated and the cool liquid was like a waterfall rushing over my senses, refreshing and much-needed.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I pulled myself together. I’d aborted the auction, that was for sure. I’d been so scared, terrified the entire time, even as my body responded to the cues. Because despite the bright lights, the monotone voice directing me to turn left and turn right, I’d slowly been getting into it. I was afraid, sure, but knowing that there were men behind those windows, watching me, appraising the goods, turned me on in a way that was so wrong. It shouldn’t have, but my cunt juiced at the thought of male eyes all over my curves, sizing me up, taking in my breasts, my waist, hips and thighs.
But there was something, or rather someone, who’d provided a safe harbor, an anchor amidst the escalating terror. It was the big man. I’d been teetering on the brink of pure fear mixed with heady arousal when suddenly a small light had snapped on in one of the booths, revealing a dark man within, blue eyes piercing, seizing mine like a hawk.
And I could hardly breathe, he was so commanding. I couldn’t see the male clearly, but I could see dark hair and a strong jaw, all of it complementing a huge, muscular male form. Holy shit, he must have been twice as big as me, and I’m not a small girl at all.
But even more than the alpha’s physical presence was the utter air of charisma surrounding the man. Even through the glass window, even though I was completely nude in front of a dozen men, suddenly the world narrowed to just me and him. Suddenly, as terrified as I was, I could do it. I could dance for this man, I could show him my all. And when he gestured, I knew instinctively what he wanted and obeyed immediately. Turning around, I parted my legs and bent over, pink parts on display, glistening wetly, all for him. Oh god, I was such a slut, revealing my most private places to a man I didn’t even know, pulling myself wide for his gaze, allowing him to look deep inside my pussy.
And yet it felt so right. Because as the hot lights caressed my skin, I looked through my legs and met that electric blue gaze once more, and the effect was immediate. My pussy pulsed at the contact like it could feel his hands, and my cunt gushed slightly, a sudden fall of wetness coursing from my hole. I panted, boobs heaving. Oh god, it was so right, all of this was so right, the illicitness, the way the man devoured me, his wrist moving up and down within his booth. He had to be. He had to be stroking himself as I displayed myself, as I showed him my private bits, dancing seductively all for him.
But then it all went haywire. Everything got flushed down the tubes, and I groaned internally, shamefaced and desperate. What the hell is wrong with you Rebecca? I screamed at myself. What the hell? Because sure, the handlers had told me during prep that I’d be in a small chamber, the billionaires seated behind one-way windows. And they’d told me that there would be cameras, recording my every move, tracing over my curves so that the billionaires could watch on their own personal consoles, even zoom in and out as they chose.
But nobody told me that when I bent over, a camera would zoom in behind my ass and stick its telephoto right up to my puss. No one told me that as I pulled my cunt lips open, that the camera would whir and hover like a giant mosquito, and focus its glaring eye onto my twat, homing in my hymen. And the incredible fact was that I hadn’t even realized it was happening at first, I was so lost in the encounter with my dark billionaire, waves of sensation pulsing through my body, our eye contact electric. But soon enough, the zooming and whirring penetrated my fog, and that’s when it happened. Shocked, my heart stopped beating for a moment, the room suddenly hot and small. The world tilted and jerked, and suddenly I collapsed in a heap on the dais. Yep, right there under the bright lights, with all eyes fixed on me, Becky Wright did what she always does and clumsily made a mess of things, just like always. And to make it worse, it was all caught on camera to boot, for posterity’s sake.
So I squirmed in the hospital bed, face flushing. Oh my god, oh my god, what had happened after that? I had a vague memory of strong arms, of a broad chest, of the dark man lifting me up and cuddling my form against his chest. His voice had been a growl, a deep, soothing rumble and I’d let go once more, drifting in a hazy sea, feeling safe, warm and comforted. The alpha male would take care of me, and my mind relaxed then, the gray haze becoming complete.
But now, in the hospital room, the events came rushing back and I hung my head, half in panic, half in embarrassment. Because I was in deep shit. The Club had hired me for an auction and I hadn’t held up my part of the bargain. Instead, like a sissy, I’d collapsed and the whole thing was aborted, the sale called off. Face flaming, my shoulders quaked as I contemplated my options, the branches of the decision tree. Because what was going to happen? I needed money and the Club had advanced me a huge sum. Sure, they’d said I didn’t need to pay it back, but no one had counted on this happening. What if they wanted the money back now? How would I ever come up with such a huge sum? Nana and Mattie had probably already spent some of cash on food, I was going to have to beg, to plead, to do anything to make it up to the people in charge.
And at that moment, the door swung open and a middle-aged man came in, rimless glasses on a pointy nose, also holding a clipboard.
“Thank you Nancy,” he said, nodding at the nurse. “Could I get a minute with Rebecca?”
The nurse nodded, stepping out.
“She’s feisty!” Nancy warned. “She’s a feisty one.”
But as the small man looked at me, I shriveled inside. I certainly didn’t feel feisty despite the warning.
“Hi,” I said tentatively. “I’m Rebecca. And you are …?”
The man looked at me over his glasses, mouth pursing unattractively.
“My name is Tom, I’m in charge of auction operations here.”
I bit my lip.
“So you work for the Club,” I said.
He nodded frostily.
“That’s right, I’m an employee. Full-time,” he sniffed, like that made a difference. “And last night’s performance was quite the spectacle. We’ve never had that happen before.”
I wanted to scream and shout, to protest that no one had told me about the giant hovering camera just inches from my twat. But I bit my lip. I needed to get on Tom’s good side, to beg for another chance, to do something so that I could stay here and make money.
“Please,” I began tentatively. “It was just so hot, and I wasn’t prepared, I just …”
Tom cut me off.
“You weren’t prepared?” he asked, pinning me with an ice cold look. “My records indicate that you arrived at four and the auction wasn’t until nine. That entire time was spent in Prep,” he said, checking his clipboard.
I nodded furiously.
“Yes, yes, and the girls in Prep were very kind, they told me what would happen, but I wasn’t sure about the cameras …” My voice trailed off.
Tom threw his head back and guffawed loudly, disbelieving.
“They didn’t tell you about the cameras? About the fact that you’d be recorded?”
“No they told me about that,” I protested, twisting uncomfortably in the hospital bed, “but I didn’t realize there’d be cameras zooming all over, coming in close with telephoto lenses and all. I didn’t realize,” I said again, voice trailing off in a whisper.
But Tom just shook his head disgustedly.
“I don’t know what you think cameras look like, but the ones we use are standard-issue. You know, black with buttons on them, a lens to take your picture,” he said dryly.
“I know!” I protested, squirming again. “It’s just, I didn’t think it would be so personal,” I said in a whisper once more. “I dunno, I guess I was expecting …”
“Expecting what?” he prompted skeptically.
And I didn’t have an answer.
“I-I’m not sure,” I stammered. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure.”
He harrumphed at that.
“That’s right, it was exactly what you expected, it was exactly what we prepared you for. And you flubbed it. We had to call off the auction. Can you imagine how this reflects on me, on the girls in Prep, on the handlers who worked so hard to help you prepare? This is fucking disaster,” he said disgustedly. “We’ve had dozens of girls come through and not one has ever fainted. Not one has let us down the way you did.”
I sat up straight again, eyes wide, begging and pleading.
“Please sir,” I said, gesturing desperately with my hands. “Could I get another chance?” I rushed. “I’m happy to go up for auction again, I’m sure I’ll do better next time, I’m sure I can do it, I’ll practice,” I promised. “I’ll find some cameras and practice with them, I can do it, I’m sure,” I rushed again.
But the man shook his head disgustedly.
“Who says you’re going to get a second chance?” he snorted. “Who says the Billionaires Club likes sloppy seconds?”
That made me draw up short, mouth clamping shut. Oh shit, oh shit. If I didn’t get a second chance, then where did that leave me? I had no options, I had to make money somehow and auctioning myself was the only way I knew. What if I couldn’t go up again? What would happen?
And so I stared at Tom, eyes beseeching.
“Please,” I murmured again. “Please.”
But the small man was on some type of power trip. He just looked at his clipboard again and shuffled some papers around, clipping them efficiently at the top with a snap.
“There are no second bites at the apple here at the Billionaires Club,” he sniffed, wrinkling that rabbit nose. “You’ve been dismissed. I’ve got your papers here,” he gestured, holding the board out towards me.
And with shocked eyes, I saw a document titled “Release Papers” with my named written in block letters at the top.
Turning towards Tom, I looked at him again.
“I’m being sent home,” I said, voice leaden with finality. “Back to New York.”
The small man smirked.
“That’s right, there’s no room for losers here. This is a Club for Grade A girls, and you’re just not up to our standards,” he said, shrugging. “Sorry.”
I merely looked at him for a second. How could he say these words to me? How could he say that I was a loser, not good enough for them? How could you treat another human this way, the words rolling off your tongue like poison? But some people are just built different so I lifted my hand limply to sign, defeated. I’d screwed up the one thing that could make a difference to Mattie and Nana, they were depending on me, and I’d completely ruined it. What was going to happen now?
So looking at Tom once more, I gave it one last shot. I had to try. Speaking softly, I beseeched the man. “Please, let my family keep the advance. I can’t pay it back right now, but I promise I will. Just give me some time.”
The small guy’s head snapped my way, eyes alert.
“What advance?” he asked shortly. “The Club doesn’t pay advances.”
And suddenly, I realized just how much I’d messed up. Maria had given me some money from a discretionary slush fund, and hadn’t mentioned it to her boss. She’d acted out of the kindness of her heart, sensing my desperation, and now I’d let the cat of the bag.
“Oh it’s nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s nothing.”
But Tom was like a bloodhound on a trail.
“What advance?” he asked again sharply, ticking his pen impatiently against the clipboard. “What advance?”
And I was just about to open my mouth to spill the beans when suddenly a small buzzing sound went off. Immediately I glanced around the chamber, a little alarmed. Was there a camera in here? Was there a hidden camera somewhere, recording our every move? My nerves jangled, a chill running through my spine. There were probably cameras everywhere, every square inch of the Billionaires Club was probably covered in cameras.
But nothing could be seen, and instead it was Tom who jerked upright, like a puppeteer had tugged his strings. He listened intently, one finger pressed to his ear and I realized what the buzzing sound must have been. He was wearing an earpiece this whole time, I just hadn’t see it, it was so small and flesh-colored. And as the man nodded, he added a couple, “Yes sirs,” and “Of course, sir.”
I watched, befuddled. What was going on? But it didn’t matter. I’d already been dismissed, and not only that, but I’d outed myself and was going to have to pay back the advance. You’re such a dunce! my internal voice screamed. You’re such a dumb, clueless idiot Becky!
And I sank into myself on the hospital bed, curling into a small ball. It was all over. This grand experiment, this chance at life, was all over, and when I got back to New York, I was going to have to explain how I didn’t have a job, how the emergency funds I’d procured had to be paid back stat, and how … I don’t even know. There was no food, we’d have to stop by the shelter and beg for some groceries. Maybe I could harass Ellen once more, hoping to shake some money loose. But I knew that was probably a no-go, even if I could locate my mom.
So locked in misery, I barely heard when Tom snapped off his com line.
“Looks like you’re staying,” he snorted skeptically.
I remained unmoving on the bed, cold with despair, like a dead fish.
“Did you hear me?” he said sharply. “You’re staying.”
And slowly, I roused myself from the deep grey depths.
“I’m sorry?” I asked numbly. “Staying?”
Tom snorted with disbelief.
“Yeah, looks like someone up there wants you to stay,” he grunted, a scowl crossing his pinched features. “With what you’ve done, I would never, but then again, this isn’t up to me.”
I looked at him, puzzled, mind still fuzzy.
“But why?” I asked slowly. “I thought I was being let go? I just signed release papers.”
And with that Tom shrugged, unclipping the papers and tearing them up with loud rips before balling them and pitching then into the trash.
“Again, it’s not up to me, but evidently someone higher-up wants you to stay,” he said shortly. “Again, if it was up to me, you’d be gone already, sayonara girlie.”
Immediately, my heart began pumping. It had to be the dark man, the one who’d saved me. He must have known that I was going to be discharged, that I was going to be fired without a second thought, banished from the Billionaires Club. He must have known and stepped in, offering me a second chance.
I perked up, sitting up straight in the hospital bed.
“So am I going up for auction again?” I asked slowly, hopefully. “I can do it this time, I know I can, I’m ready.”
And at that, Tom threw his head back and brayed loudly.
“No one is stupid enough to ask you to go on stage again,” he said scornfully. “After your little performance last night? I don’t think so. I’m the Master of Auctions here, and trust me, the billionaires know not to cross me when it comes to that.”
I sat back, puzzled.
“But if I’m staying, then what am I going to do?” I asked, gesturing with my hands. “I mean, I’m happy to stay, but what am I going to do here?”
Tom shot me a sharp look.
“You’re going to work of course. You’re going to work for your keep and that means being the billionaires’ maid.”
I sat back, astonished, mouth open. A maid at the club? I suppose this place had to run somehow, there had to be janitors, laundresses, housekeeping, all sorts of people in the shadows, making sure things got done. And a maid made sense. It hadn’t occurred to me, but someone had to keep this place spic and span, and I knew exactly how to do the work. I wash dishes at home, I sweep floors, do laundry, take out the trash, and I’m not above doing honest work. If these were the terms of my service, then so be it. As long as I didn’t have to pay back the advance, so long as Mattie and Nana could eat, then it was fine.
So with a deep breath, I nodded.
“Yes, I’ll stay,” I said firmly. “I’m happy to be a maid at the Billionaires Club.”
And with that, a new chapter of my life began.