Page 14 of Highest Bidder

I let out a cleansing breath with a hand on my stomach and murmured, “Yeah,” even though I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Macy gave me a once-over. “You look great. They’re going to love you,” she said, then pointed to the woman who’d had her legs in the air just an hour earlier. “Nadia—we’re starting in five, and you’re up first.”

Nadia, who looked like she could walk the Red Carpet in her black evening gown and stilettos, fluffed her hair in the mirror as she assured Macy, “I’m ready.”

Macy then glanced at her tablet and rattled off the order the ten women in the room would appear onstage. I was third.

At least I’d get it over with instead of pacing in the dressing room.

Nadia followed Macy out, and a few minutes later, a man’s muffled voice made it backstage.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to October’s vendue. We have ten stunning women offering packages that I think will satisfy all of you kinky bastards.” The man chuckled, then followed up with, “Well, most of you, anyway,” which garnered laughter from the crowd before he continued, “So without further ado, I’ll turn the microphone over to tonight’s emcee, Velvet Underground’s very own Macy Chambers.”

Macy’s voice was strong over the speakers when she introduced Nadia, and seconds later, a woman with a headset, dressed in black yoga pants and black t-shirt, appeared in the doorway of the dressing room and called out, “Sidney, you’re on deck!”

A blonde bombshell in a teal dress that was cut down to her navel stood up and strutted out.

I swallowed hard and turned back to the mirror for one last look. Kit gave my hand a squeeze.

“You’ve got this. It’s just like you’re going onstage at the club.”

Yeah, except instead of sitting on a man’s lap and bouncing my tits in his face when my dance was through, I’d be spreading my legs in his house or at a hotel, depending on if he was married or not.

Macy’s voice over the speakers exclaimed, “We have a winning bid!” That made what I was about to do even more real, and I realized there was no turning back.

I hope I earned enough tonight to make this worth it.

Chapter Eight

Jeff

I didn’t come here to spend money.

I came for the scotch and a place to unwind after three nights doing my ER rotation. The vendue nights—just fucking call it an auction, already—were always entertaining, half soft-core fantasy, half financial dick-measuring contest. Most of the time, I just observed. I didn’t need to shell out money to get laid.

Tonight should’ve been no different.

I slid into a seat in one of the private booths angled toward the stage near the center, and nodded when the girl in the tight blouse with the top three buttons undone asked, “Macallan, sir?”

The man beside me nodded. “Jeff, good to see you again.”

“Bradford,” I replied. “I didn’t know you came to these things.”

He chuckled. “Normally I don’t. But my wife’s in Europe for another few weeks, so I thought maybe I’d see if the tight piece of ass I hooked up with at the masquerade ball was up for sale.”

“But how will you know if it’s her? Wasn’t she wearing a mask? And every chick onstage is a hot piece of ass.”

He smiled knowingly. “I’ll know. She had a tattoo on her wrist.”

I was careful to school my expression and took a sip of my single malt scotch before I responded.

“Oh yeah? Don’t tell me, a Bible verse? Chinese symbol?”

“No… well, maybe? Is a phoenix considered a Chinese symbol?”

Fuck. Me.

Phoenix hooked up withBradford? Like he’d been a better alternative thanme?

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