Chapter 7: Friends, Part 7, One Month Ago

James

Still stretching and yawning, I make a pot of coffee and flip open my laptop to check the morning's email.

Will it have come?

If I get that contract, I've cracked it....

I scroll through quickly, checking first to see if anything has come in from Haswell....

No joy.

I mutter to myself and gulp down some coffee.

All that work.…

If it doesn't pay off....

There's the usual other stuff; a screeching letter from Marlene for more money; she can go to Hell. If she can't control her spending, it's not my fault. She's had all the money I ever agreed or was required to pay her. If she thinks I'm paying any more for her to keep her live-in lover available, she can forget it.

A letter from Georgie about her university fees; invoice attached....

Jeez.... Working for a doctorate now. Well done, Little Girl. I'm so proud of you....

I log on to my bank account to settle the invoice immediately. No need for Georgie to pay the price for her mother's behaviour....

Two minutes later, the invoice is paid and I stare glumly at the remaining bank balance.

Ah, well. Can't do much about it other than keep working....

What else has come in?

Advert for Viagra.... Into the junk box....

As if I needed it…

Sales pitch for penis extensions.... Junked....

Not too much need for that either....

Where the fuck do they get my address from?

A once in a lifetime opportunity to make a fortune buying shares in an oil refinery in Nigeria.... Junked....

Must set my Spam filters to a higher level....

I scroll through endless garbage, deleting most as I go along, then pause and scroll back.

What did I just see?

Subject Line: "Auction of Girls. All Willing. All Beautiful...."

What the Fuck?

".... Visit our site to see our collection of over thirty beautiful girls all available for auction...."

I scroll down, reading with a mixture of fascination and disbelief.

"..... Starting Bids...."

The starting bids are for serious amounts of money. What are these girls selling exactly?

I read on....

".... All the girls are fully consenting as per their individual contracts...."

Mmmm....

I scan through the photos, but none of them really catch my eye. I know a dozen girls at the Club who are just as attractive and who enjoy 'playing' with me and Michael for no more than a drink or two and fun of doing what we do. Why would I want…?

It's not as though I have that sort of money to throw around anyway....

I'm reaching to delete the message when something catches my eye; a pair of vivid green eyes set in a pale, perfect face amid a sea of red hair.

The girl is stunning....

I click through to read her details.

"Charlotte. Age: twenty-two. Five feet eight. 135 pounds. 38, 22, 36. Interests.... not listed. Background.... not listed. Virgin.

Virgin?

This girl?

How can a girl who looks like this, conceivably be a virgin at twenty-two? Men must lie at her feet.

It's just got to be a con....

....

....

.... but what if it isn't…?

The image of the girl, of Charlotte, stays with me through the day. As I work, it drifts through my mind; those incredible eyes.

Wonder if the photo's been touched up?

Taking a coffee break, I open the message again, clicking through to see if I can learn anything I missed the first time, but no, there's nothing more.

Perhaps I should check out the Auction House? See if it seems kosher?

I've nothing much on tomorrow. I could take an hour or so out of the schedule to call by....

I sip my coffee.

Then I sip it again. Why not?

You can't afford it....

Doesn't hurt to look though....

*****

"Good morning, Sir. How can I help you?"

The woman on reception is outrageously fat, middle-aged, and judging by her sour expression, has forgotten what it ever felt like to be young.

Please don't let age turn me into that....

"I'm enquiring about an email you sent to me, advertising an auction. I wanted to see if it's genuine?"

"Which auction is that, Sir? We run a wide variety of sales."

"This one." I offer her my print-off.

"Ah, that one." She glares at me over her spectacles. "Mr Chambers handles enquiries on that particular.... event. I'll go get him for you."

Thank God for that....

No way do I want to discuss.... anything.... with that woman.

After only a minute or so, she returns, scowling, with a man of about my own age. "Good morning, Sir. Would you like to come this way, please. We can talk more privately in the office." He shoots the woman a toxic glance and she subsides, then sits.

As he leads me through, I say, "Really, I just wanted to check if it is genuine, and not some internet hoax or swindle.

"No, Sir. It's quite genuine. Although I'll grant you, it is a little unusual." He waves me to a chair. "If you would like to register, we'll need some details from you. You understand that we need to take precautions on behalf of the girls involved. There is also a $1,000 deposit to attend the auction, whether that be in person, by proxy or by internet."

A thousand dollars?

"That's quite a deposit."

"Yes, Sir. We set it high to discourage the voyeurs and other riff-raff. You can imagine what kind of people we might be getting through the door if we didn't restrict the audience to genuinely interested potential buyers."

"And is the deposit returnable?"

"No Sir, although, should you make a purchase, it will be deducted from the final bid price. The remaining deposits are paid fifty percent to the house, and fifty percent to the girls. We use it to provide medical services and.... any required certification."

"Certification? Such as?"

"A clean bill of health...." He pauses. ".... Virginity."

"So, you don't just take them at face value? The girls, how much do you know about them?"

"The girls are all fully consenting. We interview them first and ensure that they understand what they are signing up for. We do not accept any girl who does not have a good grasp of the English language. Neither do we accept any girl who does not seem fully to understand what may be expected of her."

He takes off his glasses, and stares at the ceiling, polishing the lenses with a tissue. "As you can imagine, what some of the bidders want from the girls, can be fairly.... exotic.... and they're willing to pay for it, but the girls have to be clear about what they are agreeing to."

He puts his glasses back on. "We do encourage the girls to show their true personalities. Not all our clients want the same thing. For example, Donna here," he flips open a brochure, flicking to a page showing a short, busty blond, "is a dominatrix. I understand that she intends to appear at the bidding wearing something in vinyl and leather."

He sniffs and issues a small smile. "I'm sure you get my point, Sir."