Page 2 of Madam Alana

My soul would forever stay pure, but I couldn’t say the samefor my body. Unfortunately, I had many scars as witness to that fact.

Celine and I had developed a coping mechanism to manage ourfears and physical responses to frightening stimuli. We’d imagine the island weplanned to live on together one day. Surrounded by nothing but sand, sun, andocean waves. Calm, quiet, and clean. That was our dream. To live together on asleepy little island safe from all the evil in the world.

I watched as Celine plastered a smile across her pretty faceand took the steps up to the stage. As I had for the last several years, Ifollowed quickly behind her, keeping an even pace.

Fourteen of us were lined up like pets across the openstage. It seemed there was a woman from every corner of the globe. All shapes,sizes, and colors. I only guessed some of those countries were representedbecause I had a keen ear for language and had picked up on what had been spokenby each young woman throughout our six-hour flight to Las Vegas. I’d learnedthat many of them were models coming to the States to live “The AmericanDream.”

Our futures, however, were in the hands of Angus, his scary-lookingstaff, and the potential bidders. Once the plane landed, we’d hustled into avan with blackout windows and been taken to the hotel where we’d been givenaccess to showers, a hot meal, and a piece of lingerie to wear.

Shockingly, we were treated better than I’d expected. No onetried to touch us inappropriately. The men didn’t leer in our direction whilewe were scantily dressed. They behaved like this was just a regular businessday to them.

I stared down at my bare toes, distracting myself from theblack void that I knew was an audience full of men, bidders hidden in theshadows ready to put a price on my head…if I was lucky. I could hear theclearing of throats, a few whispered words, chuckling, and various other soundsI couldn’t distinguish.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our semi-annual auction,”Angus announced from the left side of the stage where he stood behind amicrophone. “As you can see, we have prime stock for your viewing pleasuretonight.”

Applause rippled through the air, making me jolt toattention. I fisted my hands as Angus approached the first girl in line andhanded her a large placard with the number one printed on it. He repeated thisprocess until we all held a card. Mine read thirteen. Something I understoodwas considered bad luck in Western cultures. I didn’t care either way. It wasjust a silly number that didn’t mean much of anything.

“Number One, please walk to the center of the stage,” Angusinstructed the first woman.

She was a very tall platinum blonde with blue eyes and pinkcheeks. Her body was that of a ballerina—not much in the way of curves like myown shape even though I too was incredibly thin.

“This is Matisse. She is nineteen years old, French, anduntouched.”Angus gave a wicked, smarmy smile. Most people considered those fake whiteteeth and his accent charming. No one knew what nationality he was, nor hadanyone asked. He looked European with his dark, rather greasy hair falling inlayers around his scruffy jaw. His lips were a thin, dry-looking line. He had apronounced forehead with bushy, dark caterpillar-like eyebrows. The eyes thoughwere what scared me. They seemed like endless voids of nothing. Pits ofdespair. He always spoke heavily accented English in what I’d have guessed wasa Russian accent.

Thankfully, I’d learned English back in South Korea from mymother when I was a child, or I wouldn’t have been able to enter at all. I’dalso attended free language classes offered by the shelter in New York to brushup on my skills.

There were five requirements to enter The Marriage Auction:

You had to be at least eighteen years of age.

You were required to speak English.

You could not have any children or attachments to your oldlife, such as a family waiting for your return.

You understood there was no backing out once you signed thecontract.

And finally, you were obligated to do whatever your spouseasked of you, provided it didn’t endanger your life.

That was the part that frightened me the most: doinganything asked of me. Having been assaulted at a very young age, I was nostranger to the sick and twisted things men could come up with when they hadthe time, opportunity, and means. Though, according to Celine, what could theypossibly do that we hadn’t experienced before? Or worse…

At least by participating in the auction, there would be anend in sight. A light at the end of the tunnel to look forward to.

We’d have hope again.

Angus had Matisse spin around to show her backside and the insidesof her arms—I assumed to prove she wasn’t a drug user—then step back in line.This continued with the next girl and the next until it was Celine’s turn. Iwatched as she confidentially strutted to the middle of the stage, put a handon her waist, and popped her hip out seductively. Then she slowly twirledaround, jutting her small booty toward theaudienceand wiggling it to gain attention.

Several catcalls and vulgarities spilled from the dark void.

“Show us your tits!” one called out.

Celine, being Celine, plumped up her small boobs and jiggledthem in what I guessed she believed was an enticing manner. Watching her mademy stomach tighten and my mouth go dry. I had to control my breathingin order tonot vomit. There was no way I could put myselfon such display.

Eventually she sashayed her way back to the line. Her eyeswent wide in my direction, and she blew me a kiss as she got back intoposition.

“Our next lovely morsel is Alana. Eighteen years of age andof mixed race. HalfGerman-Irish, half South Korean,and get a look at that mouth. Soft and sensual as a peach. As you can see,she’s a beauty and docile as can be,” Angus prattled on.

I loathed stereotypes and labels. I was only “docile” as heputit, becauseI was desperately trying to keep calm.Not a single woman up here wasn’t scared out of her mind, but the reward wassupposed to be worth it. My future depended on it.

I walked slowly to the center of the stage and let my armshang loosely at my sides, not knowing what to do with them.

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