V-Card For Sale – A Billionaire/Virgin Second Chance Auction Romance

by Ana Sparks

  As I sat across from her, poor Kristin Blair was speechless. It was cute, so I waited, gave the girl time to collect herself.

  “It’s you…” she said in a low voice, which sounded surprised but not angry.

  “I’m sorry for keeping my identity a secret,” I said, “But I figured if I did tell you, you probably wouldn’t come.”

  Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded, laughed.

  “You’re probably right.”

  I took her hand and gazed into her eyes.

  “I know it’s ancient history, but I have to apologize, Kristin. I am truly sorry for what happened at prom. For standing you up.”

  Kristin nodded, drawing her hand away.

  “Thank you.”

  Our gazes met, then hers flicked away. Then, silence. It was weird; I would’ve thought she’d have been happier to see me. Most girls would kill for a date with Clark Denton, but maybe Kristin was still resentful about what had happened at prom.

  “Well, what have you been up to?” I asked.

  “I’m an IT contractor,” Kristin said, “Looks like all those computer science classes paid off.” She laughed. I had forgotten how pretty she was when she laughed.

  “And I don’t have to ask what you’ve been doing,” she said, with a shy, admiring smile.

  I waved my hand and shrugged, the magnanimous picture of humbleness.

  “Let’s not talk about me. Tell me more about yourself, you certainly have more going on than just your job I presume.”

  Irritation flickered through Kristin’s eyes, and then she shrugged.

  “What, other than the fact that I’m now an infamous tabloid celebrity?”

  I laughed.

  “Well, I was going to wait until dessert to mention that but…”

  At this, our waitress glided up.

  “Can I get you two anything?”

  “Two glasses of Pinot Grigio,” I told her, and the pert little blonde zipped away. Kristin was eyeing me steadily.

  “What if I didn’t like wine?”

  I grinned.

  “More for me, then. Now, tell me about this website.”

  Again, Kristin’s brow crinkled. I was about to tell her to forget it, when she said, “It was a mistake. I’m horribly embarrassed about it.”

  “So, what? The offer’s off the table?” I asked, and now Kristin looked downright angry.

  “What about you, Clark Denton? I presume you have more going on in your life than just work.”

  Her tone was sarcastic, so I give her an equally sarcastic answer.

  “Oh, you know. The usual, tropical vacations, a new girl about every week, a scrawny cat who doesn’t love me.”

  The last part came out accidentally, so I paused. Kristin was tilting her head at me, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of me. Then, she burst out laughing.

  “Really?”

  “Really what?” I asked.

  “You have a cat who’s indifferent to you, too?”

  I found myself grinning.

  “What, do you have one as well?”

  Kristin shook her head.

  “No, I have two. Two completely in love, completely indifferent to me cats.” We laughed and she continued, “I even spayed them, but that only made it worse: the hours-long cuddling sessions, the intense licking sprees. Though they were named Romeo and Juliet when I adopted them, so I don’t know what I expected.”

  “Here you go,” our waitress said, her fake nails flashing as she placed our wine glasses on the table with a clink.

  “What about you,” Kristin asked as she took a sip of her wine, “What’s your indifferent cat like?”

  I took a drink, then shrugged.

  “Just a scrawny princess, really. Can hardly stand to be in the same room as me, though it was my mother who got her for me, so she must have learned it from Mom.”

  Kristin nodded.

  “How is your mom?”

  I took a longer drink of my wine.

  “Oh, you know, about the same. My sister even has a kid now.”

  Kristin’s face lit up.

  “Oh yeah? A girl or a boy?”

  “A boy, really cute kid. His name is…” I paused, as I tried to picture the name of the fat-cheeked kid I saw on Yvonne’s Facebook. “Sam. His name’s Sam.”

  Kristin was looking at me oddly, but she only nodded.

  After another silence and sip of her wine, she finally asked, “Why did you come here, Clark?”

  As her blue eyes scanned my face I smiled.

  “What, you don’t think I came just for old time’s sake?”

  Now, Kristin was outright scowling.

  “Is that all this is to you, a joke?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, it isn’t a joke. I just…when I saw you online, I was reminded of what I’d done. I felt bad. I want to make it up to you, make things right; give you the night you were denied.”

  At my admission, Kristin’s face looked less thrilled then I’d expected; she actually looked like she was thinking it through! This was starting to get annoying.

  But then, in a small voice, she said, “Okay. But how will it work?”

  I flashed her a patented Clark Denton smile and told her my plan: “A date doing whatever your heart desires, then back to my house for the grand finale. You can even stay the night if you want. Then, in the morning, I’ll wire you the money.”

  Kristin nodded, chewing at her lip. “Okay,” she said, then smiled. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  “When?” I asked.

  “Wednesday?” Kristin asked.

  I nodded. “I can pick you up at 5.”

  Kristin smiled, and then rose from her chair.

  “What, going so soon?” I asked.

  “I’ve had a rough day,” Kristin said in a quiet voice. A shadow passed over her face, and I saw just how truthful she was being, “I’m going to go home and sleep.”

  I checked my watch. It was only 10:30 pm, but I would be getting her all night in a few days anyway.

  “All right,” I said, “Give me your cell number just in case, though.”

  Kristin nodded and gave me her number. Leaning in, she pressed a light kiss to my cheek, and then strode off. I watched her sparkling form go, enjoying the lingering looks she inspired as she passed the other bar patrons. Yes, in only a few days, I would have that in my bed. And yet, there was something about her, something different and a bit unsettling.

  I took a last swig of my wine, and then stared at the door she had exited from. Yes, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Kristin Blair now, and I didn’t much like it at all.

  Chapter Six

  Kristin

  The next few days were an exercise in hiding and killing time. I used big coats and elaborate wigs to get in and out of my apartment without having to deal with the army of paparazzi that seemed only to grow each day. I messaged my clients to tell them that unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, I wouldn’t be available for work for a short period and hoped that they would understand as I recommended other freelancers. Meanwhile, I developed a policy of answering my phone only when I knew the caller; one which wasn’t even foolproof as it was.

  On Wednesday, just as I was about to get ready for my big date, my sister called.

  “Kristin,” she said in the usual, wait-until-you-hear-my-latest-greatest-life-happening tone. I exhaled, thinking I was off the hook until she said “Mom and Dad are beside themselves with worry.”

  “Oh,” I said, “Why’s that?”

  “Why Kristin, do I really have to say it out loud?” Veronica’s reply came back, sarcastic and harsh.

  “I mean,” she continued, “We all knew you were having… troubles, but we had no idea it was this bad.”

  I said nothing because I wasn’t supposed to.

  “Darling Kristin, if you really needed money you could’ve borrowed from Mom or Dad, or me, or—”

  “I already owe them thousands for school,” I said, even though sh
e knew that already, “And it was all a big mistake; it wasn’t supposed to blow up like it did.”

  There was a silence, and then Veronica clicked her tongue.

  “Whatever, Kristen. Since you clearly can’t take care of yourself, we think you should move home for the time being. Just until this whole crazy thing blows over and you don’t feel like you have to prostitute yourself anymore.”

  I was silent as her words sunk in, with all their humiliating implications: move back home. Me, the 28-year old virgin, moving back home like the loser she was. No thanks.

  “Thank you for your concern, Veronica,” I said, trying to steady my voice, “And you can thank Mom and Dad too, for wanting to look out for me.”

  There was another long silence, then Veronica’s demanding voice: “Well, Kristin, you don’t mean to tell me that you intend to actually go through with this, now do you?”

  I let her listen to my own silence for a moment before I said “That is exactly what I intend to do.” And, just as her politely appalled voice came back, I hung up.

  In shock, I sat down, stared at my phone for a moment, and then turned it off. I looked at my hands: they were still clenched, the veins standing out.

  Had I actually meant what I had said? Was I really going to go through with the whole thing, sleeping with some guy for a wad of cash?

  I walked over to the window, climbed through it, and sat in my usual position, with my legs hanging down, gazing out over the trees. Well, it wasn’t just any guy and it wasn’t just any wad of cash. It was Clark Denton, who was, undeniably, incredibly attractive, even if he was clearly pretty full of himself nowadays. And it was one million dollars. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  But the longer I sat there in my usual spot, the more I breathed in the fresh outside air, the more I wondered if I would really be able to go through with it at all.

  Chapter Seven

  Clark

  I picked her up at 6. She told me to meet her a block from her building, probably to avoid the press. This time I was on time and she looked even more beautiful than she had the other night. As she swept into my red sports car, her white dress fluttered in the wind a little. In the dying sunlight, I could see her freckles.

  “What is it?” Kristin asked, bashful under my steady gaze.

  “Nothing. You look stunning.”

  She blushed, beaming.

  “Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

  I shrugged, and ran my hand down the front of the 800-dollar suit.

  “It was something I had lying around. Are you ready for tonight?”

  Kristin swallowed, gave me a valiant smile, and then nodded.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Did you decide where you want to go?” I asked and she shook her head.

  “Good,” I said, then pressed my foot on the gas.

  The top was down and the wind was whipping our hair up and around. Kristin said something, but the wind overpowered her words.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Do I get to know where we’re going?” Kristin yelled and I laughed.

  With a tap of one finger on my nose, I shook my head, and then laughed again. Kristin could only maintain her pout for a few seconds before she joined my laughter.

  And it was funny, both of us in the car, the sun setting on the horizon, with a final red orange haze for the sky, the wind ruffling our hair up and out, while the two of us laughed our heads off about nothing. It was better than nice; it was something like forgetting, like riding horseback or the absolute climax of fucking, when the whole world goes blank.

  But then, after a few minutes, the sun set and it was dark, and we were pulling up to the little red-shaded building.

  “Cirino’s,” Kristin said as we stepped out of the car and walked up to the doors, “I’ve heard about this place.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said, holding open the door for her, “So you’ve probably heard that it’s the best restaurant in town.”

  Kristin smiled slightly, nodded.

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “That, the…never mind.”

  Kristin frowned as the big hairy maître d’ approached us.

  “Mr. Denton?”

  I nodded and he turned to gesture further into the dining room.

  “Right this way, sir.”

  The place was as nice as I remembered: with a ceiling full of delicate lights, walls bearing expertly rendered scenes of Italy and little miniature streetlights for each table.

  Taking in our surroundings, Kristin turned to me with a smile. “Clark, you were right, this place really is great.”

  I nodded, and then took her hand. “What was it you were saying before?”

  But she only shook her head.

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  Another awkward silence. Our waiter was taking too long to arrive. This was why I always ordered drinks first, or supplied them myself. Hello inebriation, bye-bye awkward silences.

  “Welcome to Cirino’s. My name is Ennio and I will be your waiter,” a man who looked identical to our maître d’ said. “Would you like to hear the specials?”

  “That’s fine,” I told him, “We know what we want.”

  Kristin shot me a questioning look, but I continued, “We would like two Main Street ribeye steaks and a bottle of Chianti please.”

  No sooner had our waiter left then has Kristin turned to me with an incredulous look.

  “I thought this night was for me.”

  “So…?”

  “So, shouldn’t I be allowed to at least choose what I eat and drink?”

  Taking her hand, I gave it a light squeeze.

  “Kristin, trust me. This is going to be delicious. I just want you to have the best evening possible, that’s all.”

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything, her limp hand in mine like a cold dead fish.

  Luckily, our waiter returned quickly with the bottle of wine, which he poured into a glass for each of us. Once he had left again, I raised my glass to Kristin’s for a toast.

  “To tonight.”

  Kristin gave a thin-lipped smile, repeating “To tonight” as our glasses clinked. After we had a glass of wine in us, we had an easier time of it. Kristin told me some more anecdotes about Romeo and Juliet—how, when she had had to take Juliet to the vet one time, Romeo had actually peed on her bed, as well as updates that her parents were retired and well, while her sister Veronica was “the same as ever.”

  “So, still a bitch?” I asked.

  A tense silence, where I was worried I had just ruined the evening. Then, throwing her head back, Kristin laughed.

  Amidst the tastefully quiet music of the restaurant, her laugh—loud and melodious and authentic—was out of place. Maybe that was what made it so attractive. Or maybe it was the way her freckled nose screwed up as her red lips spurted out giggle after giggle, her lithe fingers grasping the white table clothed table for support.

  Finally, she surveyed me with a surprised smile.

  “Clark, how did you…”

  Over the rim of my wine glass, I winked and smirked.

  “Everyone in school thought she was a first-class snob. And then how she turned me away after the prom incident…”

  Kristin’s eyes widened.

  “Wait. What?”

  “When I came to your house and asked to see you and you told Veronica to tell me to go to hell. I figured you were just still mad about missing prom, so I didn’t push it.”

  Kristin scanned my face incredulously.

  “What are you talking about?”

  And suddenly, I understood.

  “Veronica never told you I came by, did she?”

  Kristin shook her head.

  “That…bitch.”

  Catching my eye, we both burst out laughing. As I opened my mouth to say more, however, two plates topped with thick slabs of steak, along with glistening garlic potatoe
s and asparagus swooped down in front of us.

  “This does look amazing,” Kristin admitted with a gleam in her eye. Taking a bite of the steak, she declared, “Tastes even better than it looks.”

  With that, we dug in. Kristin’s face grew more delighted with every bite she took. For my part, I had forgotten just how delicious the food here was, the wine elevating it even further.

  I finished first, of course; I’ve always been a fast eater. Besides, Kristin was savoring everything, treating each bite as if it were a meal in itself. Her absolute delight was endearing.

  “What are you going to do with the money?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

  Kristin’s face fell, and I immediately saw that mentioning our arrangement had been the wrong thing to do. If only Kristin had understood; I had just wanted to see that smile brighten further, those eyes light up more as she described all the wonderful things she could do with the extra cash. I hadn’t meant to break the mood but enhance it.

  “Sorry, you can go back to eating; you don’t have to answer now, or at all.”

  But the smile was lost and Kristin was shaking her head, saying absently “Other than pay off my debts, I hadn’t thought of it much but…” That smile rose up again. “Maybe I’ll go to Cancun. My friend who went there showed me some pictures and it looked gorgeous; the Mayan ruins, the little lakes—cenotes, I think they’re called—the beaches… I’d get someone to take Romeo and Juliet off my hands, maybe even find that lovesick couple a new home and get a cat who actually gave a damn about me…”

  As if finally remembering that I was there, Kristin’s voice trailed off, shaking her head, her cheeks going red again. She lifted her wine glass to her lips, and then paused.

  “I don’t know, I…I never would have thought my life was going to end up like this.” Her gaze flicked to me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, and she set down the wine glass.

  “Why, Clark?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t you come to prom? Why did you stand me up? Why did you embarrass me in front of the entire school?”

  I took a drink of my own wine and ran my finger around the rim. I didn’t want to look at that face as I spoke.