by Scarlett Fox
Text Copyright © Scarlett Foxx
All rights reserved. No part of this guide may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Legal & Disclaimer
Legal & Disclaimer
The information contained in this book is not designed to replace or take the place of any form of medicine or professional medical advice. The information in this book has been provided for educational and entertainment purposes only.
The information contained in this book has been compiled from sources deemed reliable, and it is accurate to the best of the Author's knowledge; however, the Author cannot guarantee its accuracy and validity and cannot be held liable for any errors or omissions. Changes are periodically made to this book. You must consult your doctor or get professional medical advice before using any of the suggested remedies, techniques, or information in this book.
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Table of Contents
Introduction
The Book at a Glance
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Epilogue
Final Thoughts
Check Out Other Books
Introduction
Life is as diverse as the leaves inside a forest. Each one of us has a story to tell, a message to share, and a lesson to impart. But, no matter what our stories are, they have one thing in common: love. Our love stories may be different, but they share that same feeling of hope when the way ahead seems dark. “Sold: Highest Bidder” is a story of love set in a very uncertain place.
The Book at a Glance
Jason knew he was broken, but it was never a problem. He was contented with his life and his place on earth. What will happen if destiny suddenly changes his mind? What will happen if life sends him someone to make him realize that life is so much more than his little slice of life? Sold: Highest Bidder is a story of hope, above all, it is a story of love. They say that a broken glass can never be repaired. Can one person truly find healing and redemption?
Chapter 1
He knew it was coming, the nightmare. Deep in his sleep, he moved uneasily on his creased bed. It never mattered if he was up on a mountain, out in the sea, or deep in the forest, the nightmare never failed to find him. That night, he saw himself inside a wooden cabin, deep in the jungle of the Amazon. He was enjoying the silence all around him when a door behind the couch opened. It did not have a sound, no foreboding that something was wrong, but he knew something sinister was approaching. He swallowed hard, he knew the nightmare had begun. “No,” he said in desperation, “please no.”
He tried to wake up but he couldn’t. He looked around for anything to hit himself with, but everything began to fade like a moving vehicle being swallowed by the fog. He stood up, aware that everything had disappeared, except for the door. He knew he couldn’t avoid it. He had to enter it if he wanted the nightmare to end.
He swallowed hard and turned. It was an ordinary-looking door, only he knew it was not ordinary. It was the door to his past, a past he never wanted to see again yet he is forced to relive most nights in his sleep.
He saw blood. It always started with the appearance of blood, that thick and dark substance he was so familiar with. He closed his eyes and yet he could still see it—the blood of his younger brother.
The door opened wide and the dark shadowy figure of his mother appeared, pleading with him, begging him to enter the room. He looked at her with eyes full of rage. He could hear himself speaking to her without opening his mouth.
“What have you done, mother?” He said to her.
But, as always, his mother only laughed and walked backward to draw the shower curtain. He walked towards her, just so the nightmare would end, and saw there in the bathtub, his brother swimming in the pool of his own blood, lifeless, and beautiful.
Jason woke up in a rage, yelling the name of his brother as loud as he could. The door opened and an elderly man’s angry face appeared.
“What the hell was that?” The man said, looking at Jason with a baffled expression.
“Nightmare,” Chris, Jason’s roommate, said stepping out of the shower.
“Well, keep it down!” The man said in his raspy voice. “Some clients are in the other room, they might think we’re killing people down here!”
“Yes, Merkel,” Chris replied without looking at their boss.
Jason buried his face in his hands when he heard the door close.
“Here, mate,” Chris said, handing Jason a glass of water. “Just another dream, you’ll get over it like you always have.”
Jason looked at Chris and wanted to explain that he would never get over it, but instead, he sighed, took the glass, and thanked his friend.
The room was almost bare, even the walls were not painted, and it was almost always cold. It looked like a prison cell straight from a third world country prison. The only thing that kept the room from feeling desolate was Jason’s paintings. All forty-four of them, in huge frames, piled against the wall like a battalion ready for battle. One unfinished work was propped up on a wooden stand, it has been there for a couple of years now.
“What’s Merkel doing down here?” Jason asked after a few minutes.
“A new corporate client from London arrived,” Chris replied before putting on his white boxer briefs.
Chris was twenty-eight, eight years older than Jason. They met five years ago in New York, where Merkel found them in an alley, hungry and high as a kite. Chris came from England, where his stepmother forced him to work in New Jersey for a factory that manufactured toys. Chris always thought she did that to get rid of him. Three months after he arrived in America, he ran away after he stabbed his former boss in the eye with a pen when the latter began to make sexual advances on him.
Jason was a very young street artist when they crossed paths. They became fast friends but Jason never told him his story. He never told anyone. Chris only knew that they were both runaways.
“Good luck,” Jason said, “I’m not working today, planning to go to a gallery downtown.”
Just as Jason finished his sentence, the door burst open, it was Merkel again. He stepped inside and winced at the smell of turpentine.
“Why does it always smell like shit in here?” He said, walking towards Jason’s bed. “You all right, boy?”
Jason nodded looking away.
“Hey, we have new clients in the house. I want you both to stay put.”
“No, not me,” Jason protested. “I have an appointment downtown, remember? They promised to buy several paintings.”
Blood rushed up Merkel's face, but he kept his cool, Jason was his most prized talent. Jason was the most beautiful young man he had ever handled, and clients loved him.
“Okay, tell you what, kid,” Merkel said in a calm voice, “why don’t you stay for a few hours, just let the clients see you. I will make sure you won’t perfo
rm today.”
Jason swallowed and nodded.
Merkel smiled. "Chris, you're English right? You are up first, make sure your dick is ready in an hour," he said before leaving the room.
Chris began laughing as soon as the door was shut. “If I didn’t know how many girls he fucks in a day, besides his wife, I would really think he fancies you.”
Jason smiled and said nothing. He sat on the bed, silent as he always was, and watched his friend put on an expensive suit. “When can I wear one of those?” He wondered to himself. He was never asked to wear suits at work. He was always playing the role of a schoolboy. He was beginning to feel tired of it. He was beginning to get tired of it all. He thought of breaking free but he had no reason to, so he brushed the thought away. Merkel’s House of Joy was his only home.
***
Jason stood in front of the mirror, naked. He just took a shower and was about to wear clothes when he took notice of the unfinished painting on the easel. He approached it reverently. He stood in front of it as droplets of water created an illusion that he was sparkling. He lifted his strong arm and gently touched the surface of the canvas. It was supposed to be a painting of his younger brother. The background and the foreground were finished, except for the image of Donny. He could never bring himself to paint him, his childish smile and raised arms pleading for him to pick him up. Jason's jaw tightened, which made him even more handsome. His beautiful and intense eyes trained over his work, a ray of the afternoon sun bathed his muscled chest. He knew he would never be able to finish it.
Stepping away from the painting, he moved his well-chiseled legs towards a rack full of clothes and picked up a random ensemble. He dried himself, including his semi-erect manhood, and prepared to join Chris.
The building on the outside looked like one of New York's many abandoned buildings. But inside, it was full of activity like an ant cave hidden from the real world. Standing in one of the state's poorest neighborhood, the building never attracted any attention. Merkel wanted it hidden because it housed the biggest underground casino in America. It was famous for many other things, but it was most famous for its ‘Merkelandia,' a term only insiders know the meaning of. Jason was part of MKD, Merkelandia’s nickname. It showcased four shows a night, shows that like the underground casino must be kept secret.
The first show featured a man and a woman, picked from a pool of talents to perform in front of high-profile guests.
The second featured a man and two women.
The third included a woman and two men.
The fourth and last show, ‘The MKD Special,’ was the last performance of the night. Access was only given to extremely wealthy and very important guests. It featured ‘lambs,’ men and women, sometimes young girls and boys, kidnapped and forced to do a show where they will end up alone in a room with the guest who purchased them. In special cases, purchased lambs could be taken home by the guest who paid for them.
It came as a shock for Jason the first time he realized what Merkel did for a living. But he soon realized that he felt at home there. Jason knew he was a broken young man. He tried to live a normal life but he always thought he could never fit in. He realized that he hated the world. Merkel made him feel normal, he made him feel that there was nothing wrong with him, and Jason loved it.
Jason never thought he was unhappy there, but at the same time, he never thought he was happy. He was always neither happy nor sad. “Happiness is not for me,” he once told Chris after a few rounds of beer one night. “And as long as I am not lonely, I could live with all this,” he added. “Happiness always made me nervous, it’s always followed by tragedies.”
Jason stepped out of the room and began walking along the hallway. It was never dirty, but it had an unhealthy look. He knew something happened when he saw the worried faces of the three Trumpet Girls—Patricia, Andrea, and Camille Trumpet, Merkel’s female talents from Oregon.
The three young women approached him and hugged him. He said nothing and saw for himself what was wrong. Chris and a man from the kitchen were wheeling a gurney across the hall, bearing someone covered by a bloodied sheet.
“Who?” Jason asked.
“It’s that Russian woman who arrived yesterday,” Patricia replied shaking her head.
“That monster!” Andrea hissed.
“The senator?” Jason asked.
No one replied but he looked at their faces and knew it was indeed Senator Perry, their most vicious guest. Three times a year he visited Merkel's House of Joy, which often meant two or three deaths a year. Merkel tolerated it because the senator gave him protection and a vast amount of money. When the senator came, female talents were warned and they never left their rooms. The whole show for the night would then showcase female lambs, never female talents. Merkel knew the senator had a propensity for violence.
***
Jason knocked and Chris opened the iron door. Inside, the man from the kitchen was preparing the incinerator. Jason approached the gurney. He pulled the sheet back and grimaced at what he saw.
“What the hell…” Jason blurted out.
The man from the kitchen gave him a look and Jason stepped back to join Chris, who lit two cigarettes and handed him one. Jason took the cigarette and began to puff. He was taken aback, but he was not shocked at all. He knew all too well that people can be brutal and merciless. He knew that first hand.
“Why? Why can’t he just make her suffer and leave her alone when he is finished?” Chris said, watching the flames of the incinerator.
“Why? Well, that’s just how some people are,” Jason replied.
“He didn’t have to kill her.”
Jason said nothing and puffed in silence. A moment later, a knock disturbed their thoughts and a voice spoke from behind the door.
“Jason, Chris, the boss wants to see you both upstairs.”
Chapter 2
For a first timer, to step upstairs can be overwhelming. The scene was in total contrast with the talent quarters. The walls were lined with gilded paneling and the ceilings with frescoes painted by Italian masters. The floor was covered with French marble, and the whole place was framed by Greek columns.
Casino staff was beginning to crowd the place in preparation for the night's operations. Jason and Chris walked across the space, passing by countless machines and game tables. Some female casino staff could not help but stare at the two extremely good-looking demigods passing by. The women knew who they were, Jason and Chris, they knew they also worked for Merkel, but they had no idea what they did exactly. They were not allowed beyond the casino area and often wondered what was beyond the iron door that led downstairs.
Jason and Chris went up a marble staircase and walked through a long and sweet smelling hallway leading to Merkel’s office. An attendant who recognized them opened the door.
“Come in!” Merkel said from behind his desk, holding a handset.
Jason and Chris sat on the couch and waited for Merkel to finish the phone call.
“You met them already, Jason,” Merkel began as he placed the handset on the receiver. “The usual group of corporate old ladies looking for some spice of life,” he added as he sat on a chair in front of them. “The difference is,” he said before lighting a tobacco, “they have enough money to keep this place running for a full year. Chris said one is blue-blooded, our first royal guest.”
Merkel looked at them and knew they got what he was trying to say. This new group of clients will be considered a top priority.
“So, what do they want?” Chris said, thinking about the amount of money he could earn. “MKD Special?”
“I don’t think so,” Merkel replied, “ I don’t think they will go that far, but they need their fantasy and so we are going to give it to them.”
Jason sank on his seat, “Fantasy,” he thought to himself, “that meant boyish looks, that meant I will miss my appointment today.”
Merkel was eyeing him and said, “Jason, are we gonna have a problem?”
“No, of course not,” Jason replied.
Merkel smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”
Chris watched Jason nod.
“They don’t like the idea of a live show,” Merkel began. “They want private shows. Keep in mind that it’s the first time that these ladies would be doing something like this.”
“Yeah,” Chris replied. “We can handle them.”
“Good,” Merkel replied. “Jason, pick three more—probably Rick, Stanley and James—and ask them to prepare for a long night. I’ll take care of the shows for the other guests, both of you will be needed to make sure everything runs smoothly.”
“I can help you supervise the shows,” Chris said. “Jason can take care of the new clients.”
“I will say no more,” Merkel said before standing up.
Jason and Chris stood up and left the room.
***
The clients, Chris nicknamed ‘Golden Girls,’ were still inside ‘The Parthenon,’ the house’s posh restaurant. Merkel could have easily set up an early show for them, but the oldest lady—the leader others simply referred to as Duchess—decided to have tea and an early meal. Jason gave the other talents their room assignments.
Jason was one of the two youngest talents, but he became Merkel’s favorite and was easily given the role of supervising the team. Chris never showed it, but he secretly envied Jason. A week after Jason and Chris arrived, the former talent supervisor was dismissed immediately when he punched Jason in the face. That night, Jason assumed his position.
Jason never liked the role. He mostly wanted to work in silence and never be bothered by supervising anyone. Chris knew this and took advantage of doing most of Jason’s tasks. He was always ready to show everyone, especially Merkel, that he too can supervise operations.
Jason quickly dashed downstairs to change clothes. He was about to open the door to their room when Veronica approached him from behind grabbing his crotch. Veronica, a female talent, was Jason’s old fling. Jason turned and quickly opened the door. They stepped inside and Jason pushed Veronica away.