Page 13 of Single Girl Rules: Auctioned

“What do you think I would sell for?” I asked Slavanka.

But she didn’t answer.

In fact, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Slavanka?”

I checked a few cabanas, but all I found in those were theworld’s softest mattresses. And lots of handcuffs.

Then I saw something move in one of the glass cubes hanging infront of the window. The frosting on the glass made it nothing but a silhouette,but I could tell it was Slavanka in her maid outfit.

“Slavanka!” I called up to the glass cube.

She pressed her hand against the glass. “I trapped.”

What the hell?How had she even gotten up there? Iwent to the back of the room and found a control panel. The first button starteda light show. And some sliders adjusted the light colors. But then I found onethat made one of the glass cubes move. I played with a few more until Slavanka’sstarted descending to the ground. The frosting dissipated as it went down, andthen a panel slid open so she could step out onto the runway.

“You’re free!” I said.

She looked deeply offended. “I not free. My body veryexpensive.”

“No, I didn’t mean that you’d be auctioned for free. I meantthat you’re free from that glass prison. How did you even get up there?”

Slavanka pointed to one of the palm trees.

“For real? You climbed that tree and jumped to the glasscube?”

“Yes, yes. How many ruble you think I sell for?”

“Uh…a million?”Was that a lot?I admit, when it cameto currency exchanges, I was a bit of a basic bitch. The only rates I followed werethe euro, yen, pound sterling, and Swiss franc. Oh, and also the Bhutanesengultrum. But that’s just because I was really hoping they’d mint one with agiant penis on it. #BhutanPenisArt.

“Only one million?” Slavanka sounded so sad.

“That’s like 34 grand,” whispered Ghostie into my earpiece.

“Sorry, I meant ten million.”

“Good, good. I be so sad if sell for only one million again.”

“Again?” I asked.

She nodded. “Papa sell me to oligarch for one million. Hehave tiny penis.”

“The oligarch? Or your papa?”

Slavanka looked extremely offended. “Papa have giganticpenis.”

“That’s what I thought. Just making sure.”

“Oligarch have tiny penis. Very sad. But he die from bad borscht.”

“Bad borscht? How bad was it?”

“Very bad. Laced with KGB ricin. Fifty-two milligram. Make tinypenis oligarch go bye-bye. Tragic accident.” She grabbed the trunk of a palmtree and spun around it in a display of pure glee.

“Did you poison him?”

“Official police record say no.”

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