This is my choice. Standing here tonight, naked under my silk robe, in front of more than a dozen of the world’s wealthiest men. The lights on the stage are hot, but I’m still shaking like I’m freezing cold. But I’m no fucking victim, that’s for sure. I know how to make the hard decisions. I’ve been making them since I was six years old. Now I’m twenty-two. A virgin who put herself up for auction. Tell me that doesn’t take some balls.

Not exactly innocent… I have friends who’ve done everything and talk about it plenty. When we were younger, they teased me till I cried. But I stopped crying altogether the year I turned thirteen. And I stayed a virgin. That’s why I’m here tonight.

I should have my head examined…

But I did my research. This club is exclusive even among the exclusive. It’s all about dominance… and submission. That’s why the money is so good. But that’s also where it stops. There’s no sadism or anything like that. Nobody gets hurt here. Not clients, not the girls. And from what I’ve heard, it’s not even always the girl who’s the submissive one. Some men will pay plenty, to wear the collar themselves.

I’m not at all sure which kind of man I’d be better off ending up with tonight.

I remember every single moment that led me here. To La Laisse… The Leash. I’m embarrassed a good girl like me even knows about a place like this… but a poor kid from Jersey can learn about a lot of things that she shouldn’t.

I’m waiting my turn on the auction block. Six have already been sold. Only one girl is left ahead of me. I’m the one they’re saving for last. All of tonight’s girls are naked like me, dressed only in jewelry. They’re the most exquisite pieces I’ve ever seen, loaned to us for the evening. And at La Laisse, I’m pretty sure these diamonds are the real thing.

“Gentlemen, may I present Dalia,” the madam says, although I’ve been told not to use that word. She’s Mrs. Sparr to new girls like me. To the ones who’ve been here the longest, she’s Mom. I don’t intend to be here long enough to call her that, and I’ve already got one mom too many. She’s the fucking reason I’m here.

“Dalia is one of our premiere girls,” Mrs. S continues. She’s dressed like a queen and plays the part to perfection. We live in her realm now and she rules us all. She’s even renamed us. Dalia’s real name is just plain Peg.

“Dalia knows a man’s darkest desires,” Mrs. S says dramatically, as the black-haired girl kneels and flashes her eyes, offering her leash to a frighteningly large man with black eyes seated in the front row. He wears a suit that must have cost more than Evelyn and I made all last year cashiering at Tony’s Market. This guy’s like all the men here. Millionaires, billionaires. Men from all over the world, who come here for just one thing.

“There’s little she hasn’t done. And there’s nothing she won’t do. Dalia’s hungry for a master who can teach her something new… something exciting… something exotic. Dalia’s a girl who always eager for that something more…”

The room is expansive, the ceilings high. Far too large for our intimate gathering. The stage and seating areas are draped in deep red velvet, the lighting is the color of champagne. La Laisse takes up the entire top six floors of an Art Deco era, Upper East Side townhouse. I can only see the faces of a few men in the front row. The rest seem to be absorbed in the darkness beyond.

“Down!” Mrs. S orders, and Dalia drops her chest to the floor. Her hips stay up, her knees apart. Dalia’s enormous breasts drop onto the marble tile and, in spite of myself, I look. Her nipples are dark and rock hard, pushed out by the jeweled clamps that circle them. I feel inadequate in comparison and push the feeling aside. The man takes Dalia’s leash with a smile and gives it a jerk. “Turn her,” he says, his voice soft. It’s the very softness of it that sends a chill through me.

Mrs. S calls the order and Dalia pivots her body. She’s incredibly graceful, even though her arms are tightly bound behind her. We each wear a pair of gold slave bracelets. They’re around the upper arms, just above the elbow and have small rings attached that can be used for leashes or chains. Hers, like mine, are used to bind our arms behind us. It thrusts our breasts forward, making them higher, rounder… more vulnerable…

Dalia’s turned around now, so that her sex is on display. The man stands up and takes a few steps forward. Because the stage is raised, Dalia’s pussy is almost level with the man’s cold features. He looks at her with a detachment that makes my blood run like ice water. I feel dizzy and the bright stage lights are making my vision spotty. I pull a deep breath.

I can do this, I tell myself. I have to do this. It can’t be worse than what I’ve been through already with Evelyn. And it’s only one week… only one week. Besides, all my friends say the first time is no big deal anyway. They said it was over almost before they knew what had happened. And it’s not like he’s ever gonna be the guy you end up with, twenty years down the line… Evelyn’s fifth marriage taught me that.

I watch, knowing I’m next, anxiety building in my chest in spite of the big brave words I tell myself. But that’s what I’ve learned to do. Stick out my chin and deal. It’s all that got me through my childhood. I need it to get me through this.

Shit. I’ve never been naked in front of one man before, let alone this… audience. I watch as the huge man looks Dalia over. He’s careful not to touch. That’s not allowed… not until the gavel falls.

I hear the bidding start. The voices seem far away. They’re soft and distant somehow. Business is taken care of quickly here, the veneer of class and money lending it all an air of refinement and sophistication that belies the real reason we’re all here tonight. This place promises Executive Stress Management. But the women want money. And the men want to control us. That, or totally lose control themselves.

International consumerism on a hot, twisty date, I think, and swallow a touch of hysteria.

It’s over faster than I expect, the irony not lost as the cold in my veins reaches my heart, my brain. Dalia went for sixty thousand, for one single night. I’ll go for far more, Mrs. S tells me. Virgins always do, though I can’t figure why. You’d think these guys would want a woman who knows what the hell she’s doing…

I remind myself again… that I’m the one getting the better end of the deal.

I’ll be here for seven nights. And tonight is the one that will bring the most. If I’m up on the block again for the other six, I’ll go for less since I won’t be a virgin anymore. Still, I’ll get what I need. And Evelyn and I will have some kind of future…

It’s a relief, not to feel anything now. I can just watch my virginity be sold to the highest bidder, and I don’t have to feel a thing. It’s only a week, I repeat in my head, and I’ll have enough for the lawyers. And even for rehab after that. Evelyn’s promised that she’ll stop for good this time.

I’d feel sick, if I could still feel, remembering her coming home smelling like gin, with the windshield smashed and the front end of the car all dented in. She said she didn’t remember how it had happened. But the police showed up two days later at work and arrested her. They said she hit and killed the wife of some important politician… and that there was a witness. I feel my cheeks go warm with anger and shame.

But Evelyn is still my mom, no matter what… And this is the way I can give her one more chance. The way I can give us both one more chance. I’m tired of being the adult in our relationship. But if there’s any chance that she could clean up, and be the mother I always needed and never had…

Shit. To feel taken care of... to feel safe for the very first time? What wouldn’t I do for that?

Mrs. Sparr comes to me and takes my leash so gently it threatens to break through the cocoon of numbness that I’m counting on, to get me through the next seven days. “It’s time, Grace,” she says softly, leading me forward when I nod to her that I’m ready. I watch as the man with black eyes leads Dalia away. She raises her head up enough to give me a wink. Her smile is warm, seductive. She looks like a sleek cat, well pleased with herself. I look away.

“The ones that will bid on you are longtime members,” Mrs. S says in my ear. “I’ve known them for years,” she soothes. “They’re good men, respected, very wealthy. The one who bought Dalia is the only gentleman here I don’t know personally.”

I try to relax as we move to the center of the stage. She leaves me alone now, and moves to the podium to reclaim her role as queen. I try to focus, knowing I chose La Laisse because Mrs. Sparr takes care of her girls. For a place with no limits, there are still things Mrs. S won’t stand for and I’m relying on that. I shrug my shoulders and let my robe fall back onto the chain binding my arms. I try to still my shaking knees as the air hits every exposed nerve ending all at once.

I look out into darkness of the audience, knowing there’s one man out there who will buy me for the night. This time tomorrow, it’ll be easier. It just has to be. I lift my chin, look out over the tops of their heads and listen to my heart trying to pound its way free of my chest.

All I need to do is hold on and remember… I’m not selling my body as much as I’m buying my future.

“Gentlemen, I’m pleased to announce your long wait is now at an end,” Mrs. S says, her voice regal. “You’ve all read tonight’s program I’m sure, and are eager for the bidding to begin. I offer you the grande finale of La Laisse’s finest evening. From the very garden of original sin itself… Gentleman, I give you… Eden.”

“May I have an opening offer of fifty thousand?”