“One hundred thousand dollars,” says the man in the front row, and I do my best not to do a happy dance, even though I don’t even want to be with him.
One hundred thousand dollars will pay for the first of my mom’s treatment. I can’t believe that’s the opening bid.
“Three hundred thousand dollars for a weekend with the lovely newcomer,” says a man further in the back, whose face I can barely make out. I squint and see that he’s attractive, but still nothing compared to the mystery man.
All I can focus on is “three hundred thousand dollars.”
Enough for three treatments for my mom. I can’t believe it. But before it even has a lot of time to sink in, another man says, “Five hundred thousand dollars. Same request.”
Half a million dollars?
This time I can’t resist taking a glance at Stacy, whose lips are open in a happy smile for me, her teeth showing as her face nods, encouraging me to go through with this. But she doesn’t have to encourage me. I’m so happy to be getting so much money for my mom that I don’t even care that it means spending the night— make that nights— with one of these men. Even if it’s not the mystery man. But as I look back at him, he raises his eyebrow at me and I just know he’s going to bid.
“It looks like you’re in high demand, Miss Veronica,” Sheridan says. “It seems these men are going to have to start wooing you a little harder.”
She addresses the men in the audience.
“Why don’t you guys include a little description of what Veronica will get out of this deal, in addition to the money,” she says. “Because if past experience tells me anything, it seems that there’s going to be a bidding war and she might have to end up picking one of you to win.”
Wow. I can’t even believe it. I guess these men have an endless supply of money that can buy them literally anything. But it surprises me even more than I’m what they want to buy with it.
“For seven hundred and fifty thousand, I’ll take her on a spin in my yacht,” the man in the front row says. “We can have a private party, or a big party where we’ll invite all her friends. And then, the weekend spent with me of course.”
“For a million dollars, I’ll fly her on my private jet to any island of her choosing,” says the other man who was bidding on me. “She can even bring friends. And yes, the weekend with me.”
As enticing as these offers are, I can’t imagine doing any of these things with these men. A knot forms in my stomach as I realize that even though I thought I was offering up everything that I have— my virginity— they want even more. They want me to spend time with them, eat with them, go on private luxury vacations with them. And I don’t even know them.
There doesn’t seem to be anything particularly wrong with these men— other than the fact that they view bidding on a woman as a sport, a game to win based on who has the most money to throw around— but I just can’t imagine being with them in an intimate setting. Sex is one thing— wham, bam, thank you ma’am style— but what they’re asking for is something altogether different.
I’m beginning to want to ask Sheridan if it’s too late to qualify the terms of this arrangement. I’d told her I’d sell “everything, including my virginity” but I’m wondering if I can tell her I meant everything sexually, not emotionally. I’m not even sure how I would explain to my parents where I’m off to for the weekend, or week, or however long these men are wanting to spend with me. I guess I’d say I was going on a trip with Stacy, but they’d probably think that was pretty strange considering my heavy course load.
Thinking of my mom is what convinces me to remain quiet. I need to do whatever it takes to get her those treatments. Which, I know, includes standing here and smiling pretty no matter what these men are requesting. So, I do.
Finally, the mystery man clears his throat. I look into his blue eyes and the way he turns the corners of his full lips up at me as if to say, “I’ve got this, I’m here to save you like you asked me to,” and I feel wetter than I ever have in my entire life. All I want is for him to fuck me for my very first time.
My face blushes at the thought of him fucking me—and the fact that the word “fuck” was the first thing to cross my mind when I looked at him— as he says, “I’d like to pay two million dollars.”
There’s an audible gasp heard around the room. I widen my eyes at him. I can’t help but sneak a glance at Stacy, who is bouncing around in place as if doing her own little happy dance for me.
“That’s a hefty amount,” Sheridan says. “More than has ever been paid. Might I ask what you are requesting with that bid?”
“I need a bride,” the man says.
Did he just say bride?
A chill runs through my entire body. I have no idea how to react to that. I must be in complete shock, because it doesn’t even seem real. He hasn’t even met me, and he’s wanting to marry me?
“A fake one,” he says next.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or offended. So, it’s not real. He’s wanting some strange arrangement that I’m obviously too naïve to understand.
“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Sheridan asks.
I’ve never been more thankful to have a “Madame” to ask helpful questions on my behalf. Because I’m wondering the exact same thing.
What kind of arrangement does this guy have in mind?