Page 5 of Shep
I didn’t want to admit it, because it was personal and it was really none of their business, but I had fallen so low, I didn’t really care any longer.
Their eyes widened.
“You’ve never–” Jasmine whispered as Marie eyed me critically.
“Makes sense,” she added.
“I’m nineteen, not thirty. I’m sure there are a lot of women who haven’t had sex at my age.”
Their faces said that they doubted it.
“Who’d want to pay for someone who has no idea what she’s doing?”
“Every single guy,” Marie said and Jasmine backed it up with a vigorous nod. “God gave you a virgin pussy. Why not use what you’ve got to get your ass out of this place?”
That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard, but… valid. After tonight, I was going to be living out of my car. I wasn’t in a place to walk away from a chance to change that.
3
SHEP
“What the fuckare you talking about?” I said, leaning forward as far as the seatbelt would allow.
I was in the back of my friend Jackson’s brand new truck. It had every bell and whistle on the market, plus off-market add-ons. I knew, because I’d been the one to add the lift kit. And the running boards. And wired the high end sound system, which was now blasting country music.
“It’s a sex auction,” Jackson said, meeting my eyes for a second in the rearview mirror. “Premium pussy, dude.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re into trafficking women?”
Cyrus turned in the front passenger seat to look back at me. From his expression, he thought I was batshit crazy. “Fuck, what the hell, dude? No. Women auction themselves off for a night of fun. Happens once a month.”
Fine, not sex trafficking, but this sounded shady as shit.
“How about we go to The Roadside and you have a night of fun with a woman without spending a dime?” I countered.
I’d never paid for sex and never thought I’d ever have to.
“This is a sure thing,” Jackson added. “Besides, for the money, you get to do some kinky shit no girl at a bar’s gonna want to do in a bathroom stall.”
I didn’t want to think about Jackson doing anything kinky.
Jackson’s parents owned a house on the other side of town from my family’s ranch. Living full time in Los Angeles, they only came to Montana in the summer. That’s how Jackson and I met, when we were seventeen and on a July float trip. He came from family money and didn’t have to work. In fact, he didn’t. He’ddropped out of college and moved into the “summer house” full time.
“You see a woman you want to fuck, you bid. You win, you find a quiet spot and go for it. Then we leave,” Cyrus explained. “They leave. No drama. No expectations. No clingers.”
“Is this even legal?” I asked, still stunned this was even happening.
Cyrus huffed. “Don’t go tattling to your brother.”
Meaning Colt, the county sheriff.
“No one gets hurt,” Jackson added. “The women are all there voluntarily. They leave at the end of the night just like we do, with sore pussies and full wallets. It’s not trafficking. It’s… a mutual exchange.”
I had to reevaluate my friend choices. Since when did I hang out with dickheads who thought a fun Saturday night was paying for sex? It was a big fucking red flag. There was a chance of not only losing some money, but also getting a fucking STD. Jackson and Cyrus only seemed like more entitled douche canoes than ever.
“I’m not sure if this is my kinda thing,” I admitted. I was all for sex. I was all for a woman who was just as into it as me. I just didn’t want her to be into me because of money.
Now, I fucking wished I’d driven. I didn’t havemuch choice in this probably-not-legal activity. Although, I could have them pull over and I’d get one of my brothers to grab me. We’d gotten each other out of sticky situations often enough. What was one more?
