by Naomi West
Soon the girl came out onto the stage with careful little steps, and I just about spit out the whiskey I was sipping on.
It was the girl from the diner.
At first, I thought I might be seeing things, that I just had the girl’s image burned so hard into my head that I was seeing her face where she wasn’t, like in those corny movies where the guy breaks up with his girlfriend and sees her on the face of every woman he comes across. When I stared her down hard, however, I knew it was her. I recognized that body, those killer green eyes, that straw-colored hair. She wasn’t wearing the generic young girl clothes she’d had on earlier, either—she was dressed in nothing but a skintight white teddy that showed off every curve of that inhumanly sexy body.
And as she came out onto the stage and her eyes happened to lock onto mine, I knew that she recognized me, too.
Well, I’d been waiting for a sign of who to bid on, and I didn’t think it was gonna get any clearer than this.
“I think this girl’s somethin’ real special, boys. Whaddya all think?”
A massive cheer came up from the crowd.
“So special, in fact, that I think we oughta start at 100k.”
The singer moved to the girl’s side and slipped his arms around the girl’s shoulders.
“What do you think, honey?” he asked. “You think you’re worth a fortune?”
He shoved the microphone in the girl’s face, and it was clear as day that she wasn’t thrilled about being the center of attention.
“Um, I guess,” she said, her voice thin and small.
“Hear that, guys? I think she’s down!”
He removed his arm from the girl and strode across the stage.
“Let’s get this girl bought and fucked—whaddya say?”
More insane cheering.
“Bidding starts at 100k!”
A hand shot up right away; it was some clown from one of the lesser MCs. The bid was taken, then another hand shot up. Then another, then another. Less than a minute later the girl was already at two hundred, smashing the previous high of the evening.
I decided that I’d played it cool for long enough and raised my hand for two hundred and fifty. But before I could feel too good about knocking some of the lower guys out of the bidding, another hand shot up nearby.
It was Dakin.
“Three hundred,” he said, throwing me a look that seemed to say that it was on.
“Three ten,” I shouted.
“Three thirty!” he returned.
Oh, you want a fuckin’ bidding war? I thought. Then you got one.
“Three fifty!”
The bidding went back and forth, the faces of the crowd swinging back and forth between me and Dakin. It was like the most expensive game of chicken of all time, and I wondered if he’d drive me into the fuckin’ poor house over this piece of pussy. But I didn’t give a fuck. I had money to spare, and though I couldn’t quite figure out why, I needed this goddamn girl.
We swapped tens of thousands back, the number crawling up and up.
“Four hundred!” said Dakin.
“Now, I may be wrong,” said the lead singer, “but I just think that might be a new auction record!”
The amount was getting ludicrous, but I didn’t care. The eyes of the crowd were on me, and the band had stopped playing back at three hundred. Everyone there wanted to know how high this blonde little number was gonna get.
And right then, with everyone looking at me, I decided playtime was over.
“Five hundred!”
There was silence for a moment as if no one was really sure if they’d heard correctly or not.
“Do we have … five hundred?” asked the lead singer.
“Yeah,” I said. “You heard that right.”
Then my eyes shot to Dakin. I was eager as fuck to see what his move was gonna be. Either he was gonna take this shit into the fuckin’ stratosphere, or he was done.
He shot a dirty look at me, clenched his jaw, and stormed off.
“I think that means he’s out!” shouted the lead singer. “Sold! To the man with big pockets for 500k!”
I should’ve felt stupid. I should’ve felt like I’d just made the mistake of my life. After all, I’d just spent a third of what I’d spent on my new house on this girl. But I didn’t regret a damn thing. And as I stood there, drink in hand, the crowd exploding in wild cheers around me, all I could think was how I could’ve spent another five hundred more.
Chapter Six
Star
As the lead singer of the band, or the auctioneer, or whatever he was, led me from the stage, I felt like I was on some kind of weird drug. As if this night wasn’t terrible and strange enough already, I’d just been sold for more money that I’d ever imagined making in my entire life. And what’s more, the buyer was the total stud from the diner earlier. It was like the universe was lining up in the most bizarre way possible.
Once I was off the stage, the middle-aged woman who’d supervised our makeovers rushed up to me.
“Holy shit, girl!” she said, grabbing me by the shoulders. “That’s a new record! I knew that you were gonna set the bidding off with that little booty of yours, but I wouldn’t have even dreamed we’d get that high! You just made me a shitload of money, sweetie!”
I couldn’t even begin to describe how much I didn’t care about that.
“Do … do I get to leave now?” I asked, my voice still just as small as it’d been all night whenever I tried to talk.
“Well, kind of,” said the woman. “I mean you just saw what happened, right? You just got sold for a half a million bucks. You’re not ‘leaving’ to go anywhere but wherever he wants you to.”
“But this isn’t legal!” I shouted, finally able to at least somewhat express myself. “You can’t just buy and sell people like this!”
The woman let out a dry laugh, the kind you’d make at a little kid trying to seriously argue his way into having ice cream for dinner.
“Honey, buying and selling people is what we do. And not just little cutie pies like yourself; we’ve got just about every cop in the area on our payroll. Trust me, we’ve been at this game for a while; you’re not getting out of it unless your new owner gives the okay.”
I felt totally hopeless. Part of me wondered frantically if she was bluffing, but I knew deep down that she was being truthful. An operation like this wouldn’t be able to work unless the cops were on board.
The woman took one last look at me when we reached the end of the hallway.
“Yeah, you look real nice,” she said. “Believe it or not, I had a body like yours once. Couldn’t get the boys to leave me alone. No one paid a half a million for me, though.”
She laughed again.
“What’s going to happen now?’ I asked, noticing that we were standing in front of a large door.
“You’re going to meet your new owner, of course. He’s going to confirm that you’re … as advertised, and take you to your new home. And word of advice? Keep the whining to a minimum. I know you’re new to all this, but nothing annoys these boys like a whiny brat who won’t accept her circumstances.”
I didn’t know what to say. But before I could even attempt to come up with words, the woman rapped hard on the door.
“You ready for us in there?” she asked.
A moment passed, the air heavy with tension.
“Send her in.”
The woman flashed me one last smirk.
“Good luck, honey. I’m sure he’ll take real good care of you.”
With that, she opened the door, put her hand on my shoulder, and gave me a little shove inside. I stumbled into the room, which was so bright that I had to rub my eyes before I could notice anything. Once my vision came to, I looked around, noticing that the room was a perfect square with mirrored walls. The light from above seemed to be bright and clear for the purpose of giving any in there a clear, direct view of anyone else inside.
I realized right away that i
t was a room meant for a buyer to inspect his merchandise.
And speaking of the buyer, there was one other feature of the space: a large white chair at the far end, where my buyer was currently seated.
“There she is.”
I turned towards the direction of the voice, startled. Sure enough, there he was: the man from the diner. In spite of my circumstances, I couldn’t but notice once again just how goddamn gorgeous he was. With him sitting in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, I laid eyes on his thick, muscular arms, his narrowed blue eyes, and his stunningly gorgeous face. He was so good-looking that I was able to forget just for a second that he’d just bought me like I was nothing more than a cut of meat. As soon as I regained awareness of my situation, my hands shot to my breasts, covering myself up as best I could.
“Might as well get over your modesty now,” he said, his voice a low, purr. “Not like you’re gonna have much need for it.”
He looked me over with the careful eye of an art appraiser.
“Turn around,” he commanded.
I did as he asked, feeling exposed all the while.
“Nice,” he said.
A moment passed as he looked me over.
“What … what are you gonna do to me?” I asked. “Are you gonna kill me?”
He chuckled.
“Nah,” he said. “We got a few sick freaks around here, but you don’t gotta worry about that. “As for what I’m gonna to do you … well, you’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, you’re just gonna do whatever I tell you.”
I heard him stand up and walk over, his heavy boots thudding with each step. Soon, he was standing behind me.
“And here’s your first order: don’t speak a goddamn word unless spoken to.”
He was close, his breath hot on my skin. Despite my fear, I felt goose bumps break out across my body. This was followed by the firm clasp of his hand on my right ass cheek.
“Real fuckin’ nice,” he said. “You got a one-in-a-million ass, you know that?”
I didn’t know how to respond to this.
“Now turn.”
I did, coming face to face with him, this man who now owned me. He drew in a slow breath through his nostrils, a wicked little smile forming on his red, sensual lips. Leaning in close, he took in another deep breath through his nose, this time smelling me.
“Goddamn, you even smell like heaven.”
He stepped away, looking me head-to-toe again.
“Pull down your top. Show me those tits.”
I nodded, reaching up and slipping my fingertips under the shoulder straps of my teddy. I pulled the top down a bit, just enough to expose my breasts.
“Perfect pink nipples,” he said. “Cover up.”
I did. It was at this command that a strange feeling came over me: something about the way he was telling me what to do … it felt good. I couldn’t explain it. But having this man bark his commands at me … I don’t know. Something about him and his voice made me not want to resist.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“T-Tiffany,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, not that goddamn stupid stage name. What’s your real name.”
“… Star.”
“‘Star’,” he said, as if trying it on for size. “Well, it’s true—you’re a goddamn star; a star worth a half million fuckin’ dollars.”
I didn’t know what to say to this. I’d been so used to being flat broke all my life that the idea that something about me would inspire a man to spend so much money on me was just crazy.
“You’ll do just fine,” said the man as he turned and walked back to the other side of the room.
He put his hand on the doorknob and prepared to leave. But before he could, words blurted out of my mouth.
“Hey!” I said. “What’s your name?”
He stopped in place, standing still for a moment. Then he turned his head slightly, just enough that I could see the top half of his head, his shaved blonde hair bright in the clear light.
“Name’s Tank.”
With that, he left.
Tank … I thought, the word hanging in my mind. There was no doubt that it was a nickname, but it fit him well—he sure as hell was built like a tank.
I stood in the room for a minute longer, unsure of what to do with myself. But before too much time passed, the door that I’d come in from opened up and two girls rushed in. They took me out and led me to a small, private dressing room where they took off my teddy, replacing it with a black lace bra and panty set. Then they put in a skintight black dress with matching heels. My hair was given a onceover, and when they were done they rushed me out of there. We went outside to where a black mini-limousine was waiting for me. Without a word of explanation, the doors were shut, the driver started the engine, and we were off.
I spent the half hour or so drive thinking about how strange this all was. The back of the limo was spacious and comfortable, which was a nice change of pace from the damn cage I’d been in. I thought about Tank during the drive, unable to shake the image of him from my mind. I should’ve hated him; I should’ve been wishing he was dead—after all, he now owned me and therefore was the one thing standing between me and freedom. But I couldn’t seem to think ill of him. All I could think about was his face, rugged and beautiful at the same time And his body … damn. Those arms were unlike anything I’d ever seen before- thick, tanned, and solid.
The car hit a bump, and the image of Tank was replaced by that of Dakin. Dakin … that little fucker. It only made sense that after what he’d done to me he’d end up at that auction, trying to buy me just like he’d bought my home. I thought back to him showing up early yesterday morning, realizing that he wanted to do for free what Tank had paid a half a million for. I shuddered when I realized that if I hadn’t gotten up when I did I might very well have been Dakin’s property rather than Tank’s.
But then again, what made me think being owned by Tank would be any better? For all I knew, he wanted to tie me up and whip me with extension cords or something.
Right when the thought of that entered my head, I couldn’t help but picture it. To my shock, part of me was just fine with it …
I shook my head hard, trying to snap myself back to reality.
I needed to think about getting the hell out of this situation. Before I could come up with even a single idea, however, the limo pulled in front of a massive house. The place was huge—three stories on a large tract of land, a façade of ornate columns, a curving driveway in front, the whole area lit up with bright lights. It reminded me of what I imagined a celebrity’s home in the Hollywood Hills might look like. A huge chrome motorcycle parked out front was the only hint that someone like Tank lived here.
“Where are we?” I asked through the limo partition.
But of course, the driver said nothing. We pulled into the long curve of the driveway, coming to a stop right in front of the large set of stairs that led to the column-flanked double doors. The driver got out, opened the door, and led me to the front doors. He pressed the bell and, his job complete, he went back to his limo and drove off, leaving me alone.
The doors opened moments later, revealing Tank. I was shocked as hell to see him there. Sure, I knew that he’d bought me and his place was likely where I was headed, but this wasn’t at all where I’d imagined he’d live. I expected something like a rundown apartment above a bar. Then again, he had dropped half a million on me.
“God-fucking-damn you look good,” he said, his eyes moving up and down my body. “Come in.”
I stepped into the entry hall of the apartment, and I was blown away by how … fancy the place was. There was classical art on the walls, the floor and columns were marble, and a grand spiral staircase led to the second and third floors. It looked like a Roman palace.
“You might want to close your mouth,” said Tank. “Your jaw’s dropping a little.
Sure enough, it was. I shut my mouth and felt embarrassed.
>
“This is … a really nice place,” I said, feeling like I should say something nice, like I were visiting a friend’s house and not a biker who’d paid money for me.
“You sound surprised,” he said, leading me down the hallway further into the house.
“I mean, after that party, or whatever it was, and, um …” my voice trailed off.
“The fact that I’m a dirty-ass biker?” he said with a smirk.