Page 4 of Bought
This wasn’t the first time I’d attended an auction like this. I’d been to a few in Manhattan and in other places, bidding and winning, then handing over the money to the woman selling herself off. Not claiming what I’d bought, because it wasn’t about sex for me. It was about protection.
Yes, it was their choice to sell themselves, but it was a poor choice in my opinion. It was setting themselves up to be taken advantage of by unscrupulous types and I knew, if anyone, just how many unscrupulous types were out there. I knew because I’d had first-hand experience.
Up on the dais, Andre was apologizing for the lack of brochures — yes, Arcadia did brochures for their auctions. They advertised the virgins like you’d advertise a house, with pictures and lists of vital statistics, likes, and dislikes. And naturally their sexual hard limits.
There was a discreet murmur around the room as Andre announced that this particular virgin had an unrestricted contract. Which meant she had no hard limits at all. She’d be up for everything and anything the prospective buyer wanted her to do sexually.
My lip curled in distaste. There was only one reason to have no restrictions on a contract like this and that was to get as much money as you could. The poor girl must be desperate, and clearly had no idea what she was getting herself into.
Luckily for her, I did. And the whole reason I was going to buy her was so she’d never have to find out.
If I couldn’t protect my own daughter, at least tonight I could protect someone else’s.
As Andre finished up his patter, I let my gaze focus beyond him, into the shadows of the alcove behind the dais where I knew the virgin of the hour waited.
What had led her here? What had made her want to sell her body to the highest bidder? Not that I didn’t know the answers to those questions. It was money. It was always about money.
Atlas was now talking to the woman he was sitting next to on the couch, his voice low. He wasn’t interested in the virgin. He liked his women experienced. But then his tastes edged toward the rougher end of the spectrum, whereas mine…
Juliana wouldn’t recognize you.
No, she wouldn’t. I wasn’t that poor, stupid hotel valet who’d gawked at the gorgeous redhead handing me the keys to her car, not anymore. I was a different man now and my tastes were more…complex. Juliana would likely be horrified if she saw what I’d become.
It was a good thing she was no longer here.
You don’t believe that.
Perhaps I didn’t. But I wanted to. My grief for her had been blunted by the years, but there were times when the edges were so sharp they still cut as deeply as if I’d only just lost her.
I shifted in my seat once again, the frustration feeding my unfamiliar restlessness. Juliana was over twenty years dead and thinking about her was pointless, so why she was even in my thoughts now was anyone’s guess.
The house lights went completely dark, but behind Andre, I could see someone move gracefully in the dimness, stepping out of her alcove and onto the dais.
Then the lights came on again, illuminating a petite figure swathed from head to foot in a voluminous red cloak, the hood up covering her hair and shadowing her face.
Seemed she had a flair for the dramatic.
Everyone was quiet now, watching her, and against my will, I found myself…interested. She wasn’t doing anything, merely standing there and yet she had their attention. Their whole attention. This was a performance, clearly.
The entire room settled into a dead quiet and only then did she raise her hands to the catch at her throat, unhooking it slowly.
For a second, she stood motionless, her hands raised, hidden by the cloak, drawing out the moment with faultless timing. Then she let go and her hood fell back before the rest of the fabric fell entirely away from her with dramatic slowness, revealing her naked body like Venus in the shell.
She was lovely, there was no denying it.
Her hair was long and straight, hanging around her shoulders in a pretty silver blonde fall, her features small and precise. A rosebud mouth, straight nose, determined chin. She had distractingly dark eyebrows that flicked up, giving her an almost otherworldly air, that was only enhanced by the slight feline tilt of her gray eyes.
Not that anyone was looking at her eyes or her face.
Not when she was entirely naked, her skin pale and glowing in the dim light, almost pearlescent. She was beautifully proportioned, with small round breasts, generous hips, curvy thighs, long, smooth legs. She kept her hands coyly over her sex, hiding it from the crowd.
She had a few tattoos, and I couldn’t stop looking at the stars scattered up her right forearm, as if some part of the Milky Way had fallen from the sky and landed on her pale skin.
An approving murmur ran through the crowd, and I shifted yet again, though it wasn’t due to the restlessness this time. Apparently, the very male parts of me also approved of the virgin’s nakedness.
I gritted my teeth and ignored the sudden tight feeling behind the zipper of my pants. She was young, around Isabel’s age if I wasn’t mistaken, which instantly rendered her untouchable. I wasn’t one of those older men who liked younger women. I didn’t need to relive my youth, not when my youth had been its own kind of hell.
Besides, I never did anything with the virgins I bought. I paid them, gave them a small lecture on making better choices, then sent them on their way unmolested and with their bank accounts extremely healthy.
