Page 1 of Purchase Power
Chapter 1
Lucy Craig was ready for the experience of a lifetime.
The experience that would define her young adulthood. The one that would shoot her into the stratosphere of viral writers, whose headlines graced every five Facebook posts on any given timeline. Medium, Huffington Post, Bustle, Salon, Slate… there wasn’t a website she wasn’t prepared to smack upside the head with her great ideas. But “great ideas” meant nothing if she didn’t have the experiences to back them up.
Nobody wanted the hot opinions of a twenty-six-year-old woman who had grown up middle-class in New England’s urban wilds. Beyond her womanhood, she wasn’t a minority of any kind. She had been bleaching her hair blond for years. To the point her grandmother pulled her aside that past Christmas and asked if she needed help “taming that fried mess.”
Taming including hacking off most of her hair and giving it a fresh coat of paint, so to speak. That had been Grandma Craig’s Christmas present. Shaping her granddaughter up for the big experience that would give her an edge in the freelance writing game.
Lucy had come upon the chance of a lifetime, short of being made senior editor at the local Opinions Press. (She had applied and procured a great interview, though. She simply wasn’t “the right fit.” Her lack of practical experience probably hadn’t helped. Why did people think she was applying to jobs in the first place?)
This, though? Showing up to a club in New York City one freezing Friday night, dressed in nothing but a black coat and five layers of makeup? This wasn’t merely the chance of her writing life. This wasthrilling.
Nobody could tell her family what she was doing. They would intervene, not understanding that, sometimes, a woman had to be bold. Brazen. Willing to feed herself to the Wolves of Wall Street. The few men in suits and ties she had seen entering the secret entrance of the club were exactly what she expected: older, grayer, and wider around the middle. These were the perverted players of New York City’s big money scene. They threw money at escorts on the surface. Lucy had heard plenty of rumblings that there were illicit games in the sex industry that catered to the rich men who simply couldn’t be bothered with jaded escorts. Never mind the lack of a thrill. How else was Lucy supposed to find out about The Bi-Annual Silent Auction?Yes,theSilent Auction.Say it to the right people, and they knew what she was talking about.
Getting in wasn’t easy, though. Lucy’s contact in the sex club industry didn’t hold back the expectations for any woman looking to offer herself up for auction. She had to tick the right boxes, or “hit the right tropes” as Lucy thought of it. There were some women on the fringe who filled specific niches, but only one for each would make it through. These were the Dommes selling their unusual services. The plus-sized babes who catered to feeders (and one who didn’t.) Older women, most of whom were former sex workers coming out of retirement to tout their past experiences as award-winning porn stars and highly-sought-after escorts.
No matter what, everyone had to be hot. Absolute tens on the Conventional Attractiveness scale.
Lucy had applied on a whim, never expecting to be considered hot enough to make it through to the round of interviews held by the club owners. Then again, she hadn’t been prepared for the rigorous “exams” they gave her, from weighing her on a scale to taking her measurements.“All part of the process, dear,”a middle-aged woman in wire-frame glasses and her hair in a schoolmarm’s bun said.“This isn’t a role for someone who doesn’t fit the bill.”
Lucy’s contact had warned her to never, ever lie to these people. When they asked her about her sexual history, she was to comply with complete honesty.“Don’t tell them you’re a virgin if it’s not true. They aren’t gonna hymen-check you, but they can suss out the truth like nobody else. If you lie, you’re automatically out.”Lest Lucy assumed this was to protecther,she quickly learned this was to cover the club’s asses. If it got out that the virgins they hired weren’t truthful about their virginity – and yes, that included giving blowjobs in the back of a van at seventeen,Lucy –they stood to crush their own reputation. These were men playing with millions of dollars for their perfect match of the month. When money became so great, morals went out the window.
So Lucy hadn’t lied, not even about her job as a freelance writer. She left out the part, though, about how she was interested in this role because of what it could do for her career.
See, Lucy’s great, fool-proof plan wasn’t simply to make a truckload of cash out of auctioning herself off – although, yes, that was a huge boon that would help out with paying for her Master’s in English. While Lucy was concerned about her finances, however, nothing preoccupied her thoughts more than having an actual career in writing. She had a knack for creative writing, yes, but her heart lay in essays, memoirs, and blogging. She wanted to relate her true life experiences to other people. Lucy wanted an audience. People dissecting her life and, whether they derided her or lauded her, taking her words to heart.
What better way to get shit off the ground than by writing a tell-all about her month as a billionaire’s live-in sex doll? After all, Lucy loved sex!Or I’m sure I do. I’ve only had one real boyfriend I regularly did it with…She had been a busy student since the age of sixteen. Once she put her sights on the final prize, Lucy raced into the dark tunnel with only one pure light at the end of it.
This step was but another on the road to the next stage of her life. The Professional Adult.
Lucy was excited, honestly. When she stepped out of the Yellow Cab, thanked the driver, and approached the bouncer in Armani, her heart fluttered with thrills and chills. The professional, mature side of her couldn’t stop thinking about what this might mean for the rest of her writing life. The personal, girlish side anxiously awaited to see what waited for her. Oh, Lucy had no delusions about the type of man who bought a woman at a silent auction. Old, hairy, and fat. Probably had a wife or a fiancée who knew nothing about it. Kids Lucy’s own age, or younger. These men would not be angels. Well, neither was she!A means to an end!That was her optimistic spin as she greeted the bouncer with a smile that did nothing to alter his demeanor.
As she was escorted to her waiting room, where she would go over the events with the club manager (yet again,) Lucy thanked her stars one last time. After that awful second round of interviews, she had assumed herself out of the game. She didn’t have a flat stomach, a nice ass, or big tits. Her face was round and her hair color fake. Yet when she received the final call back with an offer to discuss her terms, Lucy was informed that they liked her “spunk.” Yes, she was attractive enough to be auctioned to a freakin’ billionaire. Did she think she would have made it this far if she weren’t?
Although it was made clear that she was Tier Two. She wasn’t a virgin, so they couldn’t capitalize off that. Nor was she exceptionally beautiful, which were two words literally uttered in her presence. The management made it clear she would be one of the first to be auctioned, and probably not make anywhere near as much as some of the other women. She was selected because they needed a pretty blond who wasn’t a virgin. That appealed to a certain demographic, not that Lucy understood what that meant yet.
Lucy reminded herself that this hadn’t been about the money. She was so used to being paid in “experience” that this was another example of that same thing. If she took home a few grand for her troubles? That would help her pay the bills while she was holed up in some billionaire’s choice hotel room waiting for him to “do something” with her.Heaven forbid these people not go into detail about what I can expect.Lucy had signed a stack of NDAs, and now that she was in the club on the actual night, she signed more forms. Contracts filled with legalese clauses she was too addled to properly read before dating and signing.
“You will wait here until you are called upon,” the manager, a forty-something man with a fine suit and hair transplants said. “You will enter the auction room, model for the buyers while they look over your credentials, and the silent bids will begin. The winner will be determined within twenty minutes of you walking into the room. Please, keep in mind we have seven women to go through tonight, so we need to keep things running on schedule.”
Lucy nodded, although she wasn’t thrilled with the distant way this man talked about “the women” as if they were chattel.
“After your auction, you will return to this room. Your buyer,” there was another phrase Lucy wasn’t enamored with, “may choose to meet you right away, as he will have two hours to rescind his bid if he finds you unfavorable up close. Or he may ask for you to be delivered to his selected location by this time tomorrow. We will let you know which option he has selected. Either way, you are free to return home after he has left the premises. Tomorrow, you will travel to his selected location.”
Right. Lucy had gone over that a few times as well. Since her time was being bought for a whole month, the men agreed to take care of her expenses, which usually meant putting her up in a hotel or an apartment. Some, she was informed, moved their purchases to their personal guest quarters on one of their properties, but that was rare. Most of the gentlemen participating in the silent auction preferred to keep their new mistress away from everything else they did.
Lucy finished signing a final paper that assured the club she was aware of the timeline of events and agreed to follow them with alacrity. She was also informed that she would not see any of the potential buyers through the two-way mirror she’d be standing in front of shortly. Until the moment they first met, she would have no idea what they wanted to be called or what they looked like.
On one hand, that made things more thrilling. On the other… well, kinda terrifying, wasn’t it? Before, she had rationalized an unfavorable match by telling herself it would be worth it in the end. It didn’t matter how hold, how ugly, or unpleasant the man was. He was a means to an end. Besides, she couldn’t expect a guy whopaidfor a woman’s company to be a winner, no matter how much money he had. Wasn’t this all a part of the experience she sought?
Lucy was left to wait in her small room until it was time to go before the buyers.God, it’s already happening!She helped herself to a glass of cucumber water and fussed with her look in the mirror. Should she touch up her makeup? Comb her hair again? She couldn’t possibly straighten her black coat out more than it was.Guess I’m nervous, after all.She fidgeted with the earrings dangling by her chin. The more she played with them, the sorer her cartilage.
So much waiting. Wasn’t she supposed to be one of the first to go up? How many women were before her? Everything would be decided within twenty minutes. That could mean she waited an hour. Good thing she had a small water closet to call her own. Lucy’s nerves kept sending her to the toilet, and she definitely didn’t drink enough cucumber water to warrant it.
Did she have regrets? Not yet. This was a woman whose mind continued to race with the possibilities of what this could mean for her career. Her future.So what if I sell myself for a month? I’ll be fine.That’s what she told herself as she paced between bathroom breaks.These other women do it all the time. Who cares? They turned out fine. These men are screened, right? This club has a high reputation. They wouldn’t feed us to literal wolves. I mean, no guy who gets involved with this is going to be the cream of the moral crop, but I’m not looking for that. I’m looking for valuable life experience to write about.
Lucy knew two things: one, that she knew nothing – two, that she would come out of this “experience” a changed person.
