Page 2 of His to Possess
And I’m starting to wish I had stuck to that maxim as the night wears on, Boyd and his compatriots getting more and more handsy with the waitress the more alcohol they consume. At one point I hear Roth flat out ask her how much she’ll charge him for half an hour in a private room. Such a classy guy. The next time she refills my glass I slip her an extra fifty as compensation for my unruly companions.
Another drink in and Roth and one of the Texans have recruited several more waitresses to our table. They’re sitting on laps and giggling while the men ogle at them like leering frat boys.What in the hell am I doing here?I ask myself. If my father is so eager to bring these people into his firm, he should have rescheduled for a time when he could come himself.
I’m getting ready to throw in the towel when someone catches my eye across the room. She’s dressed much more conservatively than the majority of the women writhing on the dance floor. Her cobalt blue sheath dress would look appropriate at the finest restaurant. Everything about the woman, from the perfectly smooth sweep of her hair to her elegant posture looks sophisticated. Classy.
Which would make sense, considering I’m ninety percent sure that woman is the daughter of William Cartwright.
“What in the bloody hell,” I mutter, shifting to try and get a clearer look. There’s no way that’s who I think it is.
“See something you like?” Boyd asks, grinning widely. His face is even more ruddy after the alcohol he’s ingested over the last hour. “I promise there’s more where that came from.”
I’m already rising from my chair, intent only on getting to her. If itiswho I think it is, I need to get her the hell out of this building. But the dancers shift in front of me and suddenly the woman is lost in the crowd.
“Where are you going?” Boyd asks. “The real fun’s about to start.”
I ignore him, eyes scanning the space for her. Where could she have gotten to so quickly? She was just there.
I shake off the Texan’s hand on my shoulder, impatient. “I see someone I recognize. If you’ll excuse me—”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky,” he chortles. “Your girl might be in the auction.”
Something cold slithers into my belly, and I turn to face him. “Auction?”
He must not notice the flat tone of my voice, because he merely smirks in clear excitement. “It starts in ten minutes.”
“What kind of auction?”
The smirk grows. “A cherry auction.”
I don’t need further explanation. Club Rendezvous is going to be auctioning off women. Specifically, women’s virginities.
One of the guys from Texas whistles, his alcohol glazed eyes bright with excitement. “Seriously? That’s the big surprise you’ve been hinting about?” he raises his hand for a high five. “Nice, man.”
“How does it work?” one of the others asks.
“Bidding starts at ten grand,” Roth says, and I want to punch the leer right off his face. Of course Roth is the kind of guy who would get into this. “Every girl involved is a guaranteed virgin, gentlemen. Top of the line, untouched pussy. They take home forty percent, the rest goes to the house.”
Boyd laughs. “It’s a good thing I brought my credit card.”
I consider myself very open minded about sex. I have no problems with whatever kink a person might be into, so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. If that kink involves them standing up in front of a roomful of randy blokes, willingly handing their body over to be used, good for them. I’ve certainly participated in my share of scandalous activities over the years.
But even I have a line that I refuse to cross.
I can’t imagine Club Wyld ever holding a virginity auction. The most important commandment at the club is consent. It would be a hard sell to convince the owners that a woman who has never had sex before could be in a position to truly consent to something like that.
Furthermore, they would never allow a woman to present herself in the hopes of making a profit. There’s way too much room in that situation for exploitation. People desperate for money are far too easy to take advantage of.
However, even on the improbable chance that Club Wyldwouldsponsor an event like this, at least I could be sure that it would be done in a safe and consensual way. The participants would be highly vetted and likely hand-selected.
I have zero faith in the proprietors of this establishment to handle things well and keep everyone safe. And that means I most definitely will not be heading to the private room with these men.
At least, that’s my plan. But the whole bloody thing goes out the window when I finally catch sight of the woman in the cobalt dress once again. She’s with a group of several girls, all of them looking some degree of nervous or excited. They’re being led up the stairs toward our section by two oily looking men in ill-fitted suits. I watch in horror as she draws closer.
I knew I recognized her. I haven’t seen her in a few years, and she’s definitely grown up in that time. She’s probably the last person I could ever imagine in this place. Still, there’s no question about it—that is most definitely Lilah Cartwright, the only daughter of shipping magnate William Cartwright. More importantly, she just so happens to be my little sister’s best friend. A girl I’ve known since she was a gangly child in braces and mismatched socks.
And she’s currently heading to the room where the auction is about to begin.
Lilah
