Page 4 of His to Possess
“Definitely going with that option,” I say quickly. I may be officially at rock bottom here, but there’s no way I’m going out on that stage without panties on.
Tia laughs. “I guess that’s settled. One more thing.” She reaches for my carefully swept up hair and begins pulling the pins out.
“Oh, it will be all messy,” I complain. My mother always despaired of my curly hair, and my inability to keep it neat and smooth. “So unbecoming,” she would say, whenever tendrils inevitably escaped from her careful chignons and braids.
“Messy is good,” Tia says. “It makes men think about sex.”
As if to emphasize that theory, she gives my chestnut locks a good tousle. “Perfect,” she says, sounding pleased with her handiwork.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I blurt out. Most of the other girls have kept completely to themselves. I’ve seen them eyeing each other, probably sizing up the competition, but few of them are talking. I guess they feel like we’re each other’s rivals. It feels silly to me, though—in my experience there are more than enough men with bad intentions in this world. And the women in this room are drop dead gorgeous. I don’t think any of them will have a problem finding a partner.
A bidder,I remind myself, determined not to romanticize this.
Tia gives me a little wink. “I remember what it was like the first time I did this. Total deer in the headlights. You kind of remind me of myself.”
“Wait, you’ve done this before?” I don’t understand why they would let her enter a second time—the entire point of the auction is that we’re all supposed to be virgins.
She gives me a wicked little grin. “My Daddy likes to see me up on the stage. It’s a game we play sometimes. He likes to see how much other men will bid on me. He gets off on it. The owners let him get away with entering a non-virgin because they know he’ll pay anything to win me in the end, and they get to keep their cut.” Her smile turns almost dreamy. “He always fucks me so good on the auction nights.”
I gape at her, having no idea what part of that statement was most shocking. I go with the first thing I can think of. “Daddy?” I squeak out.
She winks. “Sugar daddy. But like I said, he loves to play games. Daddy’s good babygirl is one of his favorites.”
I’m sure my cheeks have turned crimson at this point. There’s a weird feeling mixing with the mortification in my gut that I would rather not examine too closely. Luckily the handler barks out for us all to form a line in the order he calls us, saving me from coming up with a response.
“That’s me,” Tia says when he calls the name Gwen Thomas. She winks at me. “Part of the game.” Then she practically skips over to take her place in line, looking far more excited about the whole thing than anyone else in the room.
Talking with Tia at least distracted me a little bit, but once my name is called the certainty that I’ll vomit comes roaring back in.
“Too late to back out now,” I mutter to myself as the handler marches us out of the room. The girl in front of me has her shoulders thrown back proudly, but when she reaches up to adjust the strap of her dress, I can see her hands are shaking.
A swell of anger fills me. It shouldn’t be like this. I’m clearly not the only nervous girl in this line-up but every one of us continues the march toward the auction room. What the hell is wrong with a world in which so many girls feel desperate enough to do something like this?
We’re led backstage to a darkened area behind the curtain. I can hear the soft rumble of voices on the other side, broken up by occasional bursts of male laughter. Yeah, I bet they’re all having a grand old time.
“More waiting,” the girl in front of me grumbles.
“Nervous?” I ask, offering her what I hope is a commiserating smile. But she looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Why would I be nervous? I’ve been waiting to do this for months.”
I jerk in surprise when I realize that her shaking hands weren’t about dread at all. She’s eager for this.
“Why?” I blurt out, then immediately regret it when she narrows her eyes.
“Why do you think? The money. My asshole ex always promised me Paris for our honeymoon. I saved myself for that bastard only to find out purity didn’t matter quite so much to him when it came to the freshman he was banging on the side.” She looks smug as she smiles. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy Paris much more on my own.”
I can’t decide if I feel sympathy or happiness for her. She seems so at peace with what’s about to happen. “And you don’t mind the…you know…sex part?”
“Why would I mind? It’s empowering. I’ve had a lifetime of church and my parents telling me sex is wrong. Now I’m reclaiming my own sexuality, taking control. It feels amazing.”
Hmm. I assumed most of the girls being auctioned tonight would feel the same way I do. I scan the faces around me and see that a few look slightly sick, like me. But just as many seem excited.
I can’t ponder this any longer because our handler appears in front of us. “Here’s how this goes down. When the curtain opens you follow me out. We’re going to do two full laps around the stage so the guys can get a good look at you and start planning out who they might like to purchase. Then you’ll line up behind me and step forward when I call your name.” His expression shifts, a warning note coming to his voice. “When you’re on stage, you do everything I direct you to do, understood? I tell you to twirl for us, you twirl. I ask you to lift up your skirt to show off your ass, you do it. No hesitation, no questions.” His stern eyes travel down the line. “Got it?”
There are some nods but most of the girls merely stare at him, wide-eyed. I think the reality of the night’s debauchery is starting to set in.
“I will not hesitate to cancel any of your contracts if you displease me,” he says, before turning toward the curtain. The crowd on the other side falls silent and the heavy red drapes slide open, revealing a crowded, dimly lit room. It’s too dark to clearly see their faces, but I know the room is full of men, all of them waiting to purchase one of us for the night.
