Page 114 of Christmas with Brother's Best Friends
“Let me grab our next beauty up for auction,” the auctioneer announces before striding off stage, his eyes immediately landing on me as I shrink back into the shadows. “No need to be shy, sweetheart. You already got past the hardest part and showed up. What’s your name?”
“Grace,” I say as I nervously tug on the long sleeves of my black dress. Its flared bottom fans out around my lower thighs, just above my knees. “My friend told me about this auction. How men will give women money who need it.”
The auctioneer chuckles and lifts a finger, and the slight wrinkles in the outer corners of his eyes and mouth crinkle. “In exchange for something. You have to give them a reason to bet so much money on you. The blonde before you offered thefull girlfriend experience for some lonely sap out there with too much money to his name.”
What in the world canIoffer? I have no job, no supermodel looks, and an apartment I’m going to be evicted from soon if I can’t pay my rent. Itotallysound like a catch worth thousands of dollars.
“Any advice on what I can offer to get more interest?” I ask him with a sheepish look on my face. I only just learned about the auction earlier today after getting kicked to the curb yesterday by the big-time marketing company I worked for. As big of a preparer as I am, I came to this fancy lodge in the midst of a dark, chilly night with no other plan than to present myself to a room full of men and pray one of them picks me.
The auctioneer reaches out and pushes the long blonde strands of hair back from my flushed face and behind my shoulders. “Something that sets you apart from the others. Something that may be hard for them to get elsewhere.”
Well, that doesn’t help me.
“Chin up. Big smile,” the auctioneer tells me as he taps the underside of my chin, amusement glinting in his blue eyes. “Let’s get you in front of the bidders.”
Before I know it, he whisks me out on stage, pulling me into the spotlight that blinds me for a moment. I lift my hand up to shield my eyes, trying to peer out at the round tables full of men with deep desires and even deeper pockets. It’s too dark to make outmost of their features, and I’m too nervous and embarrassed to look them in the eye, anyway.
I’m here to beg. To trade. But what do I bring to the table to get what I need?
“Let me introduce you all to Grace,” the auctioneer calls out as he gestures to me. “She’s twenty-six and a Denver local. Grace, why don’t you introduce yourself and talk a little about what you need and what you can offer these fine gentlemen in exchange for it?”
My legs feel numb as I force myself to walk closer to him, my trembling fingers barely wrapping around the base of the microphone. As I bring it to my lips, the sound of my shaky exhale echoes throughout the room, making my face burn even hotter and redder.
“Hi, I’m Grace. I…I just lost my job.” Shame burns deep in my stomach.
I can already hear the disappointed, angry voices of my ridiculously successful parents. How I’m embarrassing them with my failures. How they raised me better than this. How I’m not living up to their standards.
I swallow hard and continue. “I guess I need some financial help. I have rent and bills to pay, and I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to get another job. It’s…a mess, and I don’t know what to do. I guess that’s why I’m here. I’m desperate.”
I hate the sound of my own voice. I hate the words coming out of my mouth. My parents would disown me if they heard me begging strangers for money.
“That sounds like a tough situation. I’m sure someone here would be willing to help you out,” the auctioneer says as he gestures toward the crowd. “What are you offering?”
“Anything,” I blurt out before wincing and shaking my head. “I mean, not anything. I’m pretty good at marketing stuff, so if you have a business, I can help with that. I’m a pretty good cook. Since I’m out of a job right now, I have plenty of free time, so if you need company or a date for something, I’m available.”
Silence lingers in the crowd, and the auctioneer looks at me expectedly. I have to offer more than that if I want people to start tossing money my way. If they do at all. Maybe I should’ve chosen a different dress or straightened my hair instead of adding waves to it.
It’s clear to me what direction I need to take things in. These guys aren’t here for a marketing expert or a cook. If I want something special from them, they want something special from me.
Something valuable.
I lift the microphone to my lips once more, my hand threatening to shake. Once I say the words, there is no going back, but I have to do something drastic if I want to pull myself out of this hole.
“There’s one more thing I can offer,” I state, my voice echoing throughout the room.
“And what’s that?” the auctioneer prompts me.
“My virginity.”
There is an immediate shift in the air. It’s subtle, but I hear movement throughout the room as people whisper to each other and sit up in interest. The spotlight feels brighter and hotter now.
The auctioneer laughs in surprise. “Woah, okay. You heard her, gentlemen. Let’s start the bidding at $5,000.”
“$5,000 right here,” a deep voice sounds from the back.
My eyes widen in shock. Someone has actually placed a bid on me. $5,000 can get me through two or three months.
“Yes, sir. $5,000. Anyone want to go higher?”
