Page 1 of Auctioned to the Professor

Chapter 1

Faye

Am I really doing this?

As soon as we’re outside the discreet, fancy nightclub, the late afternoon sun nearly blinds me. I blink a few times as we walk to the end of the alley to get back out onto the sidewalk, glancing over at the shiny black door that the place is named after. I shiver with anticipation, then turn to my best friend.

“I can’t believe you chickened out,” I say, but really I can.

Jen was only going along with it because I’d been hounding her since I found out about the monthly auctions. I think she was waiting for me to come to my senses, and to be honest, I’m shocked she didn’t try to talk me out of it.

She turns to me, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t,” she says. “Seriously, Faye, are you really going through with it?”

There’s a bus stop half a block away and we sit down to wait, neither one of us willing to shell out for a taxi. “I signed the contract, didn’t I?”

“As if they’d come after you if you didn’t show up. Last time I checked, this isn’t exactly legal,” she says. I get another ripple of excitement and she throws up her hands. “You’re too much of a thrill seeker sometimes.”

“According to the message boards they get some really powerful clientele in there on auction night. Senators, lawyers, billionaires…”

A bus approaches, but it’s going the opposite direction. We’re a long way from our off campus apartment. Jen gave up living in the dorms to split the rent with me. Money has been tight ever since my father lost my college fund from his ill-thought-out investment in my uncle’s on-demand, 24/7 moving company. I guess the logistics of being able to move anyone at any time were a little harder to figure out than they thought.

“I know I said I was going to do it, too, but, come on. Our first time? With a stranger? And who knows what he’ll look like?”

She sounds almost apologetic— we’ve shared almost every important experience in our lives since we met in kindergarten.

“I knew all along you were never going to go through with it,” I say. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“But what if some sixty-year-old grandpa… buys you?” Jen makes a gagging noise that I suspect might be real.

“Then I guess it’ll probably go pretty fast, won’t it?” I sigh deeply. I’ve never been the kind of person who was overly interested in looks. And age is just a number, right? “Stop giving me that face. I have to lose my virginity eventually. Might as well make a fortune at the same time.”

To anyone else this might seem callous. Maybe Jen’s fine with continuing to wait for some knight in shining armor, but in my nineteen years on this earth, I haven’t come across one yet. The guys who go to our school are childish, crude, and inept. Their idea of a good time is a grope in the parking lot after hitting the drive-thru.

I do want to find the right guy one day, but seeing the options that are currently in front of me, I can almost guarantee whoever I give up my V-card to won’t end up being the one.

“You know I want to travel,” I say. “And I want to finish school. I’m only a sophomore and am already drowning in student loans, so by the time I graduate I’ll have to rush right into a job just to make ends meet.”

“Well, you didn’t have to choose art history as a major,” she says, always the practical one. As much as she loves theater, she gave that up in high school and is studying accounting instead.

“I don’t want to go into debt at all,” I say. “But especially not for something I don’t love. And I want to see all the great works of art I see in my books. Travel to the most famous museums. See the aurora borealis and walk on the Great Wall of China while I’m still young.”

The list of things I want to experience is pages long. To be able to do all of it I need money. The manager of The Black Door has assured me I’ll get lots of it. One night to make all my dreams come true and be debt free? No, I won’t be backing out.

“I know. You can’t live without beauty.” Jen sighs, giving it one last ditch effort to talk me out of my decision.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you’re not tearing back in there and begging for a second chance,” I tell her. “We’re just not going to agree on this one.”

She laughs. “I guess not. I still think you’re crazy, but I hope it’s worth it.”

It will be. I refuse to have second thoughts. I’m too hungry for the life I’ve been dreaming about and am determined to break the highest bidding record the club has ever seen. Jen grabs my arm and points to the bus stop sign with a groan.

“We’re going to be waiting here forever,” she says, pulling me up.

We were so worked up about the interview inside the club, and me signing away the rights to my virginity, that we didn’t notice the bus we need to get on doesn’t go past here. It’s a nice afternoon so neither one of us is too annoyed, and we start walking down the street, looking for another stop.

About a block away, Jen perks up, tugging on my arm. Standing in front of the newsstand is my astronomy professor from last year, Grady Simmons. I needed the science credit and I love reading sci-fi novels, so I thought I already had the groundwork for an easy A laid out. Come to find out the professor – and my everlasting crush – is the author of my favorite sci-fi series, Lost Moon.

So, when I said that looks didn’t really matter to me, that isn’t taking into account incredibly sexy astronomy professors who always wear perfectly tailored suits despite our casual campus. Who has dark chestnut hair that perfectly falls into his super serious gray eyes. Whose deep, rich voice seemed to thrum through the classroom like distant, rolling thunder and always made me squeeze my thighs together under my desk.

---