Playing with the Enemy
I stared.
“Next, we have BG009, a dazzling, cherished work of art. Her artist was a blonde with a penchant for blue. Opening bid, ladies and gentlemen, five million,” the auctioneer called.
“Sold!”
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, AG007, a male artist, black and brown preference, never spoke a word of English. A clean specimen, but slightly damaged on the journey down. Opening bid, four million.”
I stood and rushed out of the room. I asked for the bathroom and locked myself in the stall furthest from the door.