Page 3 of Mastered By Desire

Deep breaths. I knew this would be a possibility. I even wondered about the most graceful way to do it, but I neversettled on a good answer. So I push the panties down as far as my hands will reach while I’m standing, then let them fall to the ground.

My pussy is bare. I’m doubly glad for the full Brazilian wax I treated myself to, in preparation for tonight…but also, a bit of hair might help me feel more covered.

Awkwardly, I pick up the panties. I don’t want to just leave them on the floor.

Betty reads something else on her phone. A smirk plays on her lips. “They’re requesting we pass the panties around the room.”

Mortifying, but okay. I can handle it. It’s just underwear.

Swallowing, I say, “Sure.”

She takes the underwear from my hand and offers them to someone sitting offstage, partially in shadow. When he steps forward to take the panties, I realize who it is. Dark blond hair. Gray eyes.

Dmitri.

And he’s holding up a bid card.

2

Leah

Igasp, but try to hide it with a soft cough. Dmitri quickly passes my panties to the guy behind him. I try not to watch as the black fabric makes its way from hand to hand. Who requested a closer look at my underwear? I’m simultaneously aroused and embarrassed.

Betty announces a new price—fifteen thousand.

Dmitri stubbornly keeps up his bid card.

What an idiot. Where is he going to get fifteen thousand dollars? Does he have a fortune squirreled away somewhere? Heck, maybe he’ll hop up on the stage after me and sell himself to pay for it.

If I had fifteen grand, I’d buy a night with him.

The bids go higher and higher. I’m asked to turn around and face the back of the stage. I’m completely naked, but Betty was right—under the stage lights, I’m not cold at all.

Betty’s phone chimes. She reads it and then nods.

“Bend over, please,” Betty says to me.

My face heats. This is humiliating.

I bend at the waist and touch my toes, my dark brown ponytail hitting the floor. I close my eyes so I can’t see the crowd behind me. I really hope Dmitri is looking away right now. I wait for what feels like an eternity but is probably only thirty seconds.

“Good,” Betty says. “You may stand now and face the bidders.”

Blood rushes from my head as I straighten. Deep breath. I turn around again.

“Sixteen thousand,” Betty says.

Two bidders hold up cards. One is Dmitri. The other is a man I can’t see very well. He’s wearing a suit and tie. He has on glasses, and a subtle reflection from the lights hides his eyes. Is he handsome? Is he mean?

Is he going to win?

But Dmitri keeps going up and up with the bid. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen thousand.Twenty freaking thousand dollars. I stare at him incredulously. Is he planning to sell his beloved ’66 Mustang? The one he and his dad restored together? It’s not worth this.

When Betty hits twenty-five thousand dollars, the other gentleman holds up his card.

“Fuck, Leah,” Dmitri mouths, putting down his bid card. “I’m sorry.”

It seems we’ve hit Dmitri’s limit. Which is good, because honestly, I don’t want him to sell his car for this. I’m doing the auction to get money, not create more debt.

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