by Haley Pierce
“Hi. Nicole,” she said, her voice gruff. She stuck her hand toward this cotton candy fairground man, and he shook it gladly, his eyes brimming with light.
“Have you checked how much people are bidding lately?” he asked her. “I haven’t been on since maybe 10, but by then, things had really started to escalate.”
Nicole’s eyebrows lifted high with surprise. Her heart began to flutter. “Really? I haven’t checked.”
“Let’s do it now,” Chrissy exclaimed, rushing toward the kitchen, where her laptop was perched on the table. She snapped on the lights and began brewing coffee, lifting the gloom and doom from the very early morning. The bubbles in the coffee maker ignited happiness in Nicole’s heart. Maybe, just maybe, her plan was working.
The cotton candy man, whose name was Chris, typed the website furiously, spinning the home page to Nicolesvirginity.com. He snapped his fingers, yelping. “See what I mean, missy? You’re hot shit right now.”
Nicole frowned and leaned close, hardly able to breathe. In the back of her mind, she expected 400 dollars. Maybe 600, if things got out of hand. But the highest bid spit back a far different number. One that forced her into the chair beside Chris, shuddering. She couldn’t stand.
“10,000 dollars,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this.” The number didn’t make any sense to her. She whisked her fingers through her hair, unable to calculate how far from town that would take her, how free she could be with that amount. She swallowed. “The kinds of guys this is attracting—they must be pretty perverted, huh?” She turned her eyes toward Chrissy, who was pouring them each a cup of black coffee. “I mean, who would spend 10,000 dollars on something like this?”
Chrissy shrugged, her teeth cutting out in a smile. “Who cares, Nicole? 10,000 dollars is a fucking ton. You can have a completely different life with that. I’d have sex with a stranger for way, way less.”
“You know that’s prostitution?” Nicole said, her eyebrows high.
“How is that different than what you’re doing, then?” Chrissy teased. She sat on the other side of the table, allowing the steam to ease into her nose. Outside, a bird had begun to twitter. Morning was hours away, but the earth was laying the groundwork.
“Damn, Nicole,” Chris said, shaking his tired head. His long, scraggly blonde hair hung on either side of his face. “If it wasn’t already this much, I’d definitely consider putting in a bit.” His eyes assessed her, easing around her curves and taking in her legs.
In that moment, Chrissy smacked his arm. The noise rang out, echoing against the kitchen windows. Chris squealed, his eyes looking toward Chrissy as if he didn’t recognize her. “What was that for?”
“She doesn’t deserve to feel like a piece of meat in her own house,” Chrissy affirmed, her eyebrows low. “And maybe it’s about time you left. I don’t like having guys sleep over.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Chris spouted. “I’m a carnie.”
“Then go back to your carnival,” Chrissy said. She tipped her coffee mug toward her mouth, her eyes not lifting. Her lack of care for him bled through the air, causing Nicole incredible discomfort. But inwardly, she pushed laughter back. Chrissy was a strong, zealous woman—without a single care in the world. She’d already forgotten this current flavor of the week.
Chris the cotton candy man slammed his fists on the table and stomped from the room, bounding out the door. “You’re both a couple of sluts!” he cried out moments before leaving, sending a single chill down Nicole’s spine.
She blinked toward Chrissy, trying to find the proper words. But Chrissy looked unperturbed. “I should have known it wouldn’t work. Chris and Chrissy? That’s just too cutesy, don’t you think? Plus, he’s a carnie. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Nicole bit her lip. “Good sex, though?”
“It was okay. His lips tasted like cotton candy. I’m afraid I’ll gain weight because of it.” She winked toward her friend, giggling. “So. Back to you. 10,000 bucks, Nicole. That’s fucking incredible. Do you know how long it takes you to make 10,000 dollars in your regular life?”
“I deliver and sell groceries, Chrissy. It takes me nearly half a year to make that much,” Nicole said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve never cared about money before. I never really knew it mattered. I was safe with my Bible and my parents and you, my best friend. And now—I have money and the potential for sex and I don’t feel at all safe.” She shook her head, sensing she sounded childlike.
But Chrissy dropped her hand over her friend’s on the table. Her eyes were warm, consoling. “Girl. You don’t need anything but yourself. Remember that.”
In that moment, Nicole’s phone began to buzz once more. It was only four in the morning, and yet, sure enough, her father was ringing her—probably still stricken at the news of her virginity bidding. Anger throttled through her, and Nicole lifted the phone, safe with the knowledge that she didn’t need anybody or anything but herself.
She scoffed into the phone. “Hello.”
“Nicole. It’s your father.”
“I can read the Caller ID, thank you.”
“You don’t sound terribly happy to speak to me,” her father retorted.
“Would you be happy speaking to a father who lied to you and your dying mother for years? I don’t think so.” She bit her lip, feeling anger rev in her heart.
“Just because I’ve sinned, doesn’t mean you have to,” her father responded. His voice was reproachful, eternally like a pastor’s. “It doesn’t mean you have to sleep with every sinful man in this town, just to prove a point. I don’t know what’s gotten into you. My girl who loved the Bible, loved Jesus with her heart and mind—"
But Nicole had heard enough. “The next time you call me, I’m expecting a better apology than that.” And she slammed her finger on the END button once more, quivering with the pain of losing her only family member in the world.
Chrissy rose from her seat and wrapped her arms around her friend, sensing her great, internal pain. “You’re the strongest woman I know,” she told her, giving her friend a firm kiss on the cheek.
“Maybe,” Nicole whispered. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not terribly frightened about these men, Chrissy. So what if they give me 10,000 dollars? Are they going to try to kill me? Are they going to rape me?” she whispered. “Maybe I should just go home. Make up with my father. Put this anger to rest.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to yourself to do that,” Chrissy affirmed, her eyebrows high. “You’ve worked too hard for this. You’ve put yourself and your life on the line, and you’ve gotten nothing but positive responses. Plus, I’ll take care of you. I’m always just a phone call away, and probably just a block or two, as well. I can have one of my guys come bust his ass, if he tries to get you. I promise. You’ll be fine.”
Nicole felt warm. She lifted herself from her kitchen chair, leaving a half-drunk cup of coffee to chill on the table. She swept back to the couch, feeling a deep, engrained sense of fatigue, and she drifted off to sleep. She hadn’t prayed at night since she’d learned of her father’s affair, and she’d recently realized: she didn’t miss prayer at all.
4
Tom awoke at four, stretching his legs out beneath his comforter and sensing the dread of the day ahead. Every morning, he woke alone. He worked alone. He dined alone. And the loneliness seemed to edge into his heart, deeper and deeper each day. He swallowed, sipping the water at his side table. His consistent worry, his farm, called to him. Without his monitoring hand, the cows would falter and die out. The fields would brown. His world, as he knew it, would fold up.
Tom clicked into his cowboy boots and sauntered down the steps, listening to the creak of his knees. He tapped his cowboy hat onto his head, assimilating into his “costume,” and he swung toward the barn. The sun had begun to peek slightly over the horizon, even this early, and his heart was lifting in his chest, reminding him of why he was alive, why he’d chosen this lifestyle. Most pe
ople in the world were glum, sitting in offices, without any knowledge of the organic world. He was a vessel of the planet. Corporate life held nothing for him. He would live outside until his death.
He entered the cow’s barn, smoothing his hands over several of their faces. They mooed at him, agitated. The workers who would milk the cows would arrive in the next half hour. Before then, Tom was required to feed them, to water them. And he did it as he would a child, attending to them kindly, easily. He was forgetting the madness he’d woken with. He was becoming sure once more.
Hours later, it was nearly 11 in the morning. Tom craned his neck, cracking it as he stood in the field. He watched as a small pickup truck came barreling down the dirt road. His groin shifted in his jeans, jolting a sudden reminder to his brain.
The girl. Nicole. It was her, delivering the groceries.
He scratched his beard, his brain humming. He hadn’t thought of her since the previous day, when he’d watched the number clamber as high as 8,000 dollars on her bidding page. He didn’t recognize any of the usernames, but he sensed that people like Rod33 and SuckMe45 weren’t exactly “good guys.” He imagined that these men would destroy Nicole’s optimism and love for the world. If she had any of that left after her father’s affair, of course.
As was their custom, Nicole hopped from her truck and let herself into his farmhouse, without bothering him with his work. Since he’d grown used to her and her usual flowing dresses, he normally didn’t give her a long, passing glance. Sure: he’d thought about what lingered beneath the fabric. But he generally gave her space to do the job he paid her to do. And that was that.
But this time, as she hopped from the truck and sifted through his bags in the back, she was wearing a tight pair of Daisy Dukes. Her long, gleaming legs seemed to go on for miles, tracing into a pair of short cowboy boots. Again, Tom felt his groin shift. He imagined her popping that Daisy Duke button and revealing her great, voluptuous ass to him. He imagined smacking it, jolting her against the truck and taking her there, beneath the sun. Like a man.
She gave him a small wave before wrapping her arms around her bags and shuffling toward the door. She was cute, clearly humming with too many thoughts. He wondered if this virginity bidding was on her mind, if she ached with worry. But the small grin that crept across her face when she saw him looking at her told a different story: one of excitement.
Tom found his cowboy boots pointing toward his front door, which was still cracked open from her entrance. His footfalls pounded against the porch, and then he was indoors, tapping toward the kitchen. He admired the way her arms lifted, slipping the groceries in their precise places. The cereals went on the top shelf. The vegetables in the bottom refrigerator drawer. He hoped she didn’t notice how much beer he drank week to week. He considered drinking alone to be a slight tragedy, one of the lowest order. And yet, something told him that she wouldn’t judge him for a moment. She probably wouldn’t even “pray” for him any longer.
“Do you need something?” she suddenly asked him, her voice light, feminine. “Can I get you a glass of water or maybe a beer? The sun is really hot today.”
Tom realized he’d followed her too far, that he was staring. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry. I think the heat’s getting to me, like you said. Didn’t mean to just blast in here unannounced.”
“Well, it is your house,” Nicole said, giggling slightly. Her shirt was cut low on her chest, showing the darkness of her cleavage along the lightness of her upper breasts. Tom longed to place his hands over them, to hold them close to his face, to kiss them. He cleared his throat, yearning for anything else to fill his mind. He needed a conversation starter.
“Thanks for getting the groceries today,” he began, sensing that this was strange. He hadn’t thanked her before. “I really appreciate the work you do around here. And I’ll have the money to your account in the next few days.”
Nicole blushed. She tipped her weight onto her left hip and gave him a suspicious eye. “You’re acting pretty strange, Tom,” she finally said, her voice expectant. “Normally, you don’t follow me in here. Think I’ll steal your stuff this time?”
“I have heard you’re pretty desperate for money,” Tom said, before he could stop himself.
Silence hung between them, then. Nicole looked down at her hands, splaying her fingers across her thighs. “I suppose this means you were at the fairgrounds the other day, huh?” she finally said. Outside, a cow’s moo swept through the field and into the window. Neither of them acknowledged it.
“I was at the fair, yep,” Tom said, stepping back, feeling suddenly nervous. She was secretive, blushing, suddenly yearning to get away from him as swiftly as possible. And this turned Tom on completely. He felt his rod shift in his jeans, jolting up against his pant leg and causing insane discomfort. He longed to rip her hands from her thighs and place them along his, to ask her to touch his staff, to cup his balls, to touch him in ways women hadn’t touched him in years. He swallowed, hoping she couldn’t understand his deep, hidden thoughts.
“What did you think of my performance?” she finally asked him, her voice weak. Was she flirting with him? Tom couldn’t tell. He hadn’t flirted in ages.
“I thought you did swell,” Tom said, his voice staggering. “It must take balls to get up there and do a thing like that. In front of everyone in the whole town. Phew.” He shook his head, trying to stay casual. Internally, his brain was on fire with lust, with passion. His heart throttled so hard in his chest, he thought it would pump from his ribcage and onto the floor.
“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose,” Nicole said, smiling weakly. She turned her attention back to the groceries, then, having had all the embarrassment she could take. She cleared her throat. “Seriously. A beer would be nice, if you’d like to have one with me.”
Tom wasn’t used to drinking before he closed out for the day. But as the clock struck noon, he found himself clipping the refrigerator door opened and popping out two Buds, one for him, and one for this strange, sexual girl in his kitchen. He unclipped the bottle caps, watching as they clinked onto the counter. And he passed one to Nicole, who grasped its body with her slender fingers.
She thanked him and clinked her bottle with his.
“It’s not the greatest stuff,” he affirmed, eyeing the bottle. “Bud isn’t for everyone. But it gets the job done.” He felt as if he were speaking out of his ass, just wanting to fill her time so that she wouldn’t leave him. Not yet.
“Don’t be silly. I’m not a pretentious, city girl. I can drink Bud all day long,” Nicole said, winking. “Of course, I didn’t readily drink before a few weeks ago. Things change awful quickly in life, don’t they?”
Tom thought back to his fiancé, Mandy. She’d been a light in his life, the only thing he woke up for in the morning. And then, all at once, she was gone—lifting off to Seattle to open some pretentious, cutesy coffee shop near the mountains. His life had all but shattered. And hers held nothing of the past.
“You’d think they wouldn’t in a town like this,” Tom said, bowing his head. He removed his cowboy hat, sensing it was rude to wear it indoors. Trained as a gentleman, he was not. His erection stirred in his jeans, and he sensed she knew about it—that she kept her eyes as far away from it as possible.
He sat in his chair at the kitchen table and watched her without words, sipping his beer and allowing the sour taste to pour over his tongue. He yearned to give her a bit of advice, to tell her that she didn’t have to give away her virginity like this, all willy-nilly. He longed to wrap his arms around her voluptuous ass and kiss her neck and breathe in her scent, without a care—and certainly without bidding for it. But it was almost like there was a bubble around her. He couldn’t penetrate her with conversation, nor with his physical presence.
She sipped the final slops of her beer and tapped it onto the counter, spinning from her work. The cabinets gleamed, filled with food, completely
organized. She cracked a slight smile. “So, I suppose I’ll be seeing you around?” she asked, her voice in almost a whisper.
“Every Thursday, yep,” Tom said, surprised by how distant his voice seemed.
He watched as her eyes traced downwards, toward the ground. Disappointment seemed to bleed through her. And then, she swung her long legs toward the door, tossing out a brief “Bye, now.” He sat in his chair, almost frozen with fear, as he heard her crank up the engine in her truck, turn up the radio—which wasn’t the Christian country station, as it normally was on Thursdays—and gear from his driveway. She left him in a sexual lurch, lost in a sea of want and desire for that woman. Before, he’d known she was something special. But today—she was a proper entity, something he could, feasibly, reach out and have.
Tom began to pace in his cowboy boots, suddenly certain he wouldn’t be going back into the fields that day. He sent his cowhand a text with a brief excuse before rushing upstairs, still feeling his groin press up against his pants. He knew that men had done a lot of stupid things to be with the women they had passion for. But this—what he was about to do—was probably the worst of the worst.
His laptop came to life on his lap. The warmth of it swam through his thighs, to his pulsing, vein-riddled cock. He closed his eyes, sensing he would need to take care of it sooner, rather than later—but yearning to ride out the pleasure of this desire until after he’d put his money where his passion was.
The amount of the bidding had risen all the way to 17,000 dollars. He shook his head, gazing at the photo of Nicole that graced the front page. She looked nervous, bothered, with a single, long leg popped forward. It looked as if someone had told her to stand that way—that it was unnatural for her. Her breasts were stuffed tight into a form-fitting dress, and her eyes smiled, rather than her mouth. Such personality lurked behind her face. Such reminder that she was a real person, with real wants and deep, unending reasons for what she was doing. She wasn’t just a slut.