Gregory is speechless for a moment. He eyes the crowd, his gaze then shifting between myself and the mysterious man, before he clears his throat and wagers the bid.
“500,000, going once…”
Gasps echo in the room.
“500,000 going twice…”
I dare another glance at the man, firming my lips by how his gaze is enough to command me to freeze.
“Sold. Buyer, please submit your bid and pick up your sale.”
I pull my gaze from him. I have to. Any longer and I’m sure I’ll lose my courage and back out, destroying my life even further. Gregory moves towards me, his hand on my shoulder as he directs me to move backstage, and out the door to wait in the room where buyers receive their prizes.
A prize…
Like a polished piece of furniture.
I walk robotically. Afraid to move out of synchronization with the other prized possessions, as if one wrong step will cause the world to crumble. Backstage I pass the others. The quiet ones are me. Frightened. Unseasoned. The loud ones are the one’s that appear unphased. Knowledgeable about this world of sex, and blood and violence.
That’s how my sister was.
I shiver uncontrollably at the thought of her in a place like this.
She would’ve never stepped foot in a place like this. She was loud, and charming, but her standards were higher than this. Higher than me. In the face of a desolate future, she would’ve clawed her way to the top. She wouldn’t have come running to a club, an innocent, stupid prey, vulnerable and willing to sell her soul. She is nothing like me. It’s me that should’ve died.
When I get to the backroom, I await him. My eyes roam the deep red wallpaper, and the golden crown molding. I sit in one of the plush accented chairs, and cross my legs and for a moment, I almost have the illusion of someone sitting in a doctors office waiting to be seen. Almost. That is, until I feel the air in the room shift, and know his he’s in the room. His presence is so powerful, he flips the world on its axis and I feel my body temperature sky rocketing, until I’m a sweaty, nervous mess.
Should I turn? Should I make the first move to address him, or play naïve, and pretend I don’t know he’s standing five feet beside me as I stare straight ahead.
Something inside of me is telling me to keep pretending, so I play with my skirt, as if I’m fixing it. The silence that follows his entrance is thick with tension, and now knowing he’s watching me curiously causes me to regret my decision to remain quiet.
The longer the silence stretches, and his eyes move along every surface of my body, I can’t pretend anymore. I turn my head in his direction and inhale a sharp breath when our eyes meet.
“Hi,” I greet, unsure of what else to say, and deciding that a simple greeting is the best way to test out who this man is. My eyes roam over his tall frame, noting the muscles that fill out his suit.
He’s incredibly buff. Incredibly intimidating. His hair is short and dark brown. The kind of length you can just barely get a hold on. He cocks his head sideways, a peculiar look on his face.
Now he’s just staring. I’m thankful that my dark skin can shield my blush, but my look of embarrassment is hard to hide. I’ve always been someone who wears their heart on their sleeve.
“Hi, S-Sir,” I stammer, rising from my seat, and stepping toward him with my hand outstretched. I swallow, suppressing my own nervousness with a few inward words of encouragement. He peers at my hand, unimpressed by it, before he clenches his jaw.
I’m unsure how this relationship dynamic will transpire. Especially if he won’t even touch me… especially if I disgust him.
I try to imagine a world where a man finds you distasteful, fear spiking inside of me when I realize that some aren’t in this for the sex. Some are only in it for the torture, and if that’s the case, I’ve just signed my last rights.
“You’ll do,” He replies, before whipping around. “Come, now.”
I scurry after him, holding my skirt up enough to make sure I don’t trip as he takes long strides through the club and out towards the front door. I frown. I’m surprised he hasn’t decided to use the club resources. It pains me to admit that I was expecting him to perform some type of sexual fantasy on me.
Not that I’m disappointed.
I’m relieved, but the thing about relief is, it gives you false hope.
It leaves you vulnerable.
Until the truth barrels over you.
I shiver outside, watching as he arrives to a black sedan and a man opens the back seat, nodding to him.
God, I don’t even know his name…
I follow suit, sliding in beside him, wincing when the door is closed, and my fate is sealed. The driver returns to his seat, wordlessly pulling off into the street, as he’s probably done a million times before.
I divert my gaze out of the window, stealing a few moments of false peace and silence during the car ride, only to be yanked into the man’s lap. I yelp, hands outstretched, about to push myself off him, when I realize those involuntary responses need to be corrected. I freeze, and he cups my chin, eyes snapping to my lips.
In some other word, we might’ve dated.
He’s more than attractive enough, but not now.
Now he’s an obligation.
One I’m supposed to satisfy. One that scares me to my core.
He fiercely pulls my lips to his, capturing my mouth like he owns me, violently and passionately. The kiss catches me off guard and I stiffen. Having only been on a few dates in life, I’ve never had much experience in this area.
He huffs angrily after pulling away from me.
“Get off,” He demands. I nod, and move myself back to my seat, aware of how his disappointment is evident. I’ve not met his standards.
“I-I’m sorry,” I begin, shaking my curls and pressing my palm against my chest. “I was just caught off guard is all.”
“Oh really?”
He sounds condescending. Like my poor kissing skills aren’t explained by surprise.
“For someone who’s sold herself, I would expect more experience.”
“Does that disappoint you?” I question, licking my bottom lip. My eyes bulge slightly when he rests his gaze on me once again.
“It’s a question of whether you’ll meet my…. Needs.”
Needs.
I lick my lips again and that’s where his eyes train, a glint of pain and desire passing through his gaze, before he clears his throat.
“I have no use for coddling innocence.”
“You won’t have to,” I reply, while shaking my head slowly. “I’m not innocent. Not anymore. I will learn.”
“We will see.”
He nods, and the rest of the ride is in silence.
The home we arrive to is massive. The driver retrieves the door of the car, and I climb out of it, the home looming over me. Behind those walls, I am shackled to him. He may do what he pleases with me… but I’m not sure I can take it.
He doesn’t tell me to follow him this time. I just do. He moves towards his front door, an air of familiarity surrounding him as he gets to the front door and opens it.
“You don’t keep it locked?”
He stops, the door halfway opened as he glances at me.
“No one would dare steal from me,” He replies, and it sends chills down my spine.
Who is he that would make people afraid to steal from him? Do I even want to know.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” He responds before pushing into the house.
Whoa.
It’s huge.
I step into the foyer, eyes moving over the dangling crystal chandelier, before moving to the spiral staircase that moves around the room.
Very classy.
Very expensive.
“This is beautiful,” I comment. He doesn’t thank me, instead he moves to the middle of the room, spins around and stares me down like he’s inspecting a piece of meat he’s about to devour.
Oh god, I can do this.
I can do this.
“Strip.”
“W-what?”
Is he really…..
Already?
It was my own illusion that he’d give me some time to adjust.
My own fucking naivety.
My hands shake as I lift them, halting when they get to bottom of my shirt. My thoughts run wild, heart thrumming quickly in my chest.
“Strip. Or there’s the door.”
No options.
His words play on repeat in my mind.
I have no use for coddling innocence.
So I obey.