Page 94 of Single Girl Rules: Auctioned

No.Pissing off every crime family in the world wasjust about the worst idea I’d ever come up with. Sure, we might get the money. Butthen a week from now I’d be walking down the street and get a bullet in thebrain.

Maybe I could…

But I had zero ideas. Every time I moved my never-ending erectionrubbed against my dick sleeve. All I could think about was claiming Ash’svirgin pussy.

And why shouldn’t I? Earlier today, it seemed wrong to try tosell a fake virgin. But if those fuckers were going to collude to try to put usout of business, why shouldn’t I sell them a fake? As long as I came on herface instead of inside of her, they’d never know the difference.

And once I got her out of my system, I’d be able to come upwith a proper plan.

I stood up from my desk and went to the dressing room.

There were racks of clothes and dress forms in bikinis andjewelry displays. But what I was interested in were the seven dressing areas separatedby thick black curtains.

I pulled the first curtain back.

The girl inside was putting some finishing touches on hermakeup. But she wasn’t Ash.

Neither were the next two.

And then I realized my mistake. She was walking last, so shewas probably in the last dressing area. I walked to the other end of the roomand pulled the curtain back.

Oh damn.

She was checking her ass out in the mirror. Which was odd,because her head was still covered with a bag. But this bag was white insteadof black like it had been in the lobby.

I started to step through the curtain, but a man in averysparkly suit pulled me back and blocked my path.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked.

“Who the hell areyou?” he replied, giving me the up-down.He sounded very excited to see me. “Actually, don’t answer that. Tonight you’llbe whoever I want you to be. Because I’m in charge of this dressing room.”

“I’m…”

He put his finger on my lips to silence me. “Hush, you big, beautifulbeef tower.”

I swatted his hand away.

“Oooh, feisty.” He gave a little shimmy. “Bring that energyto the runway and you’ll sell for millions.”

Would I?Had this dude just given me the key tosolving my eight-million-dollar predicament? No. He definitely had not. BecauseI was pretty sure none of the buyers in attendance tonight were gay. If I triedto sell myself I’d just be the laughing stock of the crime world.

“I’m not getting auctioned,” I said.

“Not in that pant, you aren’t.”

“What’s wrong with this pant? And why are we calling it asingular pant instead of pants?”

“You’re right. Those hardly even qualify as a pant.” He shookhis head. “Tragic.”

I usually wouldn’t have been insulted by such a statement. Butthe savagery of the way he delivered it was devastating.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you somethingmuchbetter towalk in. What size are you?”

“Uh…I think I wear a 36-34?”

“I meant your crotch size.”

“Are you asking how long my dick is?”

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