Teardrops On My Guitar

Giovanni

That was her decision.

Sienna is taken backstage to be prepared.

I sit at my table with Axel across from me. He's back from his errand.

Axel Drake and I have known each other since I was sixteen years old. He's one of the few men I consider a friend.

There were three years when he left Vegas and went east. It's a time he doesn't discuss though, not even with me. All I know about it is that he and his brother, Hugo, a man I've never met, spent time in prison there and I have a feeling it has something to do with that errand he ran earlier.

I understand revenge and I don't care what Axel has to do to take care of what he needs to take care of as long as he's available when I need him. It's an understanding we have between us.

He drinks the last of his whiskey and I pour him another.

The gong goes off and the auctioneer announces this is the last of tonight's draw. They'll be anxious for it. I only have half a dozen girls at each party. Keeps them hungry.

"Want me to keep someone on the sister?" he asks as the curtain goes up. "I have a feeling she'll disappear as soon as she's released. If she's smart, that is."

We're both watching the stage as he speaks, as the spotlight begins its ascent up the raised dais where she stands like an offering.

It seems like it's a slow dragging of the light, like we're given an inch at a time. Just glimpses as it travels up the draped figure where two women stand on either side.

Finally, the light shines on her face and she squints, turning away momentarily.

I didn't realize how long her hair was. It falls in waves over her shoulders and thick bangs frame her whiskey eyes. They've fixed her makeup, lined her eyes heavily and put a sheen of gloss over those pouty lips.

I notice her hands are fisted and she doesn't raise them like she should when the girls draw the cloak from her, baring her naked body.

I swallow at the sight.

"Keep someone on her, but don't pick her up," I say, hearing how thick my voice sounds. "She's no use to me anyway, not in the state she's in."

I swallow the rest of the whiskey in my glass and can't drag my eyes from the naked woman on the stage. Watching her face burn in embarrassment while her eyes narrow in a combination of rage, rebellion and confusion as the men call out numbers.

The auctioneer discusses her heavy breasts—large for her small waist—and the particular shade of pink of her hard little nipples.

I myself can't look away from those breasts, can't not think about how perfectly they'd fit in the palms of my hands as I weigh them.

"Turn her!" someone calls out.

Feeling oddly possessive, I note who.

Sienna struggles against the girls who take her wrists and they're confused. The women on the block are willing. No one is made to do this against their will. Not really.

This one, though, she's not like any of those women. I knew it from the moment I first saw her.

"Turn her!" more chants come from the crowd. Her resistance will only make them want it more. Want her more.

The auctioneer, too, is momentarily at a loss. He glances over the crowd to my table.

I give a nod and two guards step out of the shadows and onto the stage.

The auctioneer gestures to the men. "Turn her."

By the time they get to her, she's off the dais.

"I guess she changed her mind?" Axel chuckles as we watch the scene, this cartoon as the two giants grab the naked woman who can't be more than five-and-a-half feet. She's fighting as if her life depends on it and somehow manages to knee one of the men in the balls.

Axel winces.

"Ouch," I say, pouring more whiskey into my glass without taking my eyes off the spectacle.

"Why don't you stop it. You know you're going to buy her anyway," Axel says, taking the bottle and pouring for himself.

I turn to him. Before I can deny it, he laughs.

"I know you, Giovanni. You want that girl. You did the moment you laid eyes on her."

I shrug a shoulder and when I turn back, the men are forcing her back onto the platform. And when she raises her middle finger at the crowd, the bids explode.

The soldiers hold her there, and the auctioneer is looking at me again. I nod once more, and he picks up the strap and walks toward the girl.

She sees him, sees what he's carrying, and her eyes go huge as she's turned and bent at the waist. She screams when he raises the strap and brings it down hard across her ass once, twice.

"Quiet, girl," he hisses the command.

More numbers are called out from the cheering crowd.

Calls for more strokes to be laid on her beautiful ass.

When the auctioneer returns to his podium, she's straightened and turned to the room again. Her face is flushed, and I wonder if she can see me. If she knows I'm watching. If she knows it was me who ordered the strap.

I stand. The room quiets as I do, and I speak my number.

"Quarter-of-a-million dollars."

I don't have to raise my voice and I meet every eye in the place daring any one of them to challenge my bid.

The gavel comes down once. That's all that's necessary when I bid.

"Sold for a quarter-of-a-million dollars."