Sold at the Ski Resort Page 6

  Taking notes.

  The first woman’s offer is tame, and the offer is too. It’s for dinner and conversation, and the woman readily agrees to the first and only offer she gets. Chicken, I think.

  The next woman is quickly called up. Her offer is riskier, and more along my lines: a blow job. A five-star blow job, to quote her. With the riskier offer comes a bigger reward, and that’s when I start to feel more than just on display. I start to feel powerful. A force to be reckoned with, though we’re all stood up here like objects and animals.

  The next bids are interesting, but not of too much interest to me.

  Until we get to a woman whose bid is the kind of ambitious thing I’m starting to think I’ll do when it’s my turn: a whole night together, no holds barred, where she will do anything, and everything requested of her.

  Of course, the numbers immediately begin to fly for this. Quicker than most of the women on stage with me seem to think possible. The dollar amounts reach into the tens of thousands, and then hundreds of thousands. Oh, my.

  Eventually, after an intense bidding war, the all-nighter woman accepts a final offer from a man near the middle of the room. He sounds like he’s not from around here. European or something exotic. Whatever it is, it’s nice on my ears. Different. Exciting.

  Which is how I’m starting to feel about my upcoming moment in the spotlight, and what I’ve already planned to offer. A whole night to do whatever you want to me, particularly you like to “push” the definition of “whatever.”

  I grin to myself. That’ll get me the right bidders. And I don’t mean in terms of money. I fold my hands together, in front of me and straighten my posture. This isn’t about the money for me. I just like the idea of being thoroughly owned. I bite my lip, hazarding a glance toward the table I know Alex is at, but don’t catch his eye. He’s too tuned into his brother.

  As thoughts come to an end, Mariah nudges me. She gives me a comforting smile. I receive it and return it tenfold. “I still can’t believe we’re up here,” I mouth to her, as the spotlight inches closer to her.

  To this, Mariah just sticks out her tongue, and gives me the naughtiest grin I’ve ever seen on those studious lips. She’s as turned on by this as I am.

  Chapter 11

  Alex

  However uncomfortable Paul is with the idea of bidding (he put up a fight in the beginning, saying he wasn’t going to “buy” a woman), it’s even worse now that the bidding is in full swing. Especially with some big, bad numbers flying around.

  The latest bid ended at half a million dollars. And, I’m sorry to admit it, but I’m enjoying watching my brother squirm in the seat across from me.

  “Jesus Christ!” he hisses, reaching under the table to irritably fix something. I’m guessing his dick. “Half a million dollars! That’s…”

  “Not something you need to worry about, bro,” I say, eyeing Jane, and then her friend Mariah, in the line. “We have money.” I whisper this, gesturing to myself, then Jordan. “We pooled it together specifically for this night. Enough for you and us to buy something good.”

  Though I know he’s trying to hide it, I can feel the cold sweats he’s broken out in as he says, “How in the fuck do you have that kind of money, Alex?” It’s his voice, the stress in it, that gives him away. He glances at Jordan, looking even more green about where he got his green. Weed and wealthy women paying for that weed makes him nervous, no matter how many times Jordan’s shown him the high class of it.

  But I don’t care how uncomfortable Paul is right now, and neither does Jordan. We both see what he doesn’t seem to: that Mariah is up next.

  “Don’t worry about it, dude.” Jordan takes a big swing of his spiked eggnog. “Mariah’s almost up. You know you’re gonna bid on her, so just relax and get ready to play ball. You don’t want any of the stuck-up douches here to get her.”

  You’d better play a good game, brother, I think, settling in to watch as Mariah and the MC finally lock eyes. Mariah’s what you need, and Jane’s what I need.

  I drink in her blonde, wavy hair. The curve of her body. Her full, shiny lips; dark, swooping cat-like eyes. Perpetually rosy cheeks, twinkling with a bit of glitter. Like she’s not just wearing the cold, but the starlight from outside.

  I tell myself that my attraction to her isn’t serious. That it’s just about how much I need her body. The opportunity to unleash my kinky, black-leather magic on that body and make her squeal and moan, and nothing more. But somewhere in the back of my mind I know that’s not true. Even as Mariah’s getting called up to the mic, and Jane’s offering her encouragement, I can’t help but crave those same hands reaching out to me. Submitting to me and my desires.

  ***

  Jane would be so much more brave and sure in her offering, I think, watching and listening as Mariah shakily gives her offer for an all-night free-for-all. Mariah’s a lamb, Jane a tiger. One I can’t wait to walk around on a golden chain…wearing nothing but a collar that says, “master’s number one slave.”

  I would stay in my fantasies waiting for Jane’s turn, were it not for a surprise question for Mariah from the front, which the MC is fielding now. “Yes, sir? You have a question?”

  “My question is for you, miss,” the man says. He has a deep Southern accent. Like he’s from Texas or Missouri. “Would I be correct in assuming you’re a virgin?”

  I have to hold Paul back from going over to the Southerner’s table and flattening him.

  Every man in the room holds his breath. The questioner’s excitement rises, too. Excitement I’m prepared to make sure Paul gets instead of these other fuckers. I’m about to get after him, yell at him to pay attention, but I see that he already is. His eyes are locked like the Jaguar I know he is, on Mariah. Her shaking form on stage. She finds Paul and locks eyes with him as she says, “Yes. I am.”

  Oh, yeah, that’s what I like to see, I think, watching Paul’s eyes flicker with that admission. Finally, getting serious. Warmth and hunger both dance on his features, letting me know he’s made up his mind to possess her. Make her his.

  This only intensifies as she adds, “I’m a virgin.” She clears her throat like a lamb offering her flesh to a wolf. “I’m offering my virginity, and all that entails to the man whose bid I accept and exceeds all others.”

  “Wow!” The MC turns on her heels, working the audience with the brand of sexy I’m sure got her hired in a heartbeat. “Here that, gentleman? We have a virgin!” She laughs like a businesswoman closing the best deal of her career. It’s drowned out by the wild cheering and hooting that’s erupted from most of the tables. “We haven’t had one of those in years, gentleman! Get those dicks and price tags up, boys!” She swaggers forward a bit more. “This girl’s first time is on the line! Make sure it’s worth it!” She pauses. “Do I have my first bid?”

  The minute she asks the question, she’s drowned out by numbers.

  “$50,000!” someone shouts.

  I nod, though I’m surprised by how high it’s starting.

  “$80,000!” someone else shouts.

  “$100,000,” says the Texan who fished for her virginity.

  Not only are the bids climbing fast, but so is my anxiety. Paul’s gone from looking confident, to looking completely and totally overwhelmed. I punch him in the arm, noticing that Mariah is looking at me. “Don’t freeze up now!” I say, “bid!” Briefly, my eyes find Jane. She’s looking nervous for her friend. But also excited. Pleased by such hot bidding action.

  “$200,000,” calls someone from the back of the room. He’s quickly drowned out by other offers. With every offer, it’s going up by tens of thousands of dollars.

  In no time at all, the bid is at $300,000, then $400,000.

  But, despite yelling at him, when I return my eyes to the table Paul’s not just anxious. He’s gotten completely frozen by all the action. By all the testosterone flooding the room. Jordan says what I want to, and in a kind of commanding voice I didn’t think he had. “Get in
there, man! We told you not to worry about it! Bid!”

  Finally, I see Paul renew his eye contact with her. I see him lick his lips contemplatively, like the hungry beast I know he is.

  Come on, come on, bro! Go for the kill! Again, my eyes find the stage. Mariah, then Jane. Jane briefly finds my eyes. Unlike her friend, she looks calm. Collected. She grins at me, as if saying, “I can’t wait to play.”

  “$600,000,” barks Paul, as if he’s tired of these posers. His bid brings me away from Jane momentarily, and back to our table.

  “$680,000,” comes in immediate counteroffer.

  “$750,000,” returns Paul, looking at Jordan. Jordan nods.

  “888,000,” calls a voice way in the back.

  “$900,000,” comes yet another bid. This one from a darkened corner.

  Unlike Mariah and Paul, I’m not overwhelmed by these numbers. I’m not phased, and I’m going to make sure that applies to my brother as well, whose gone pale. “Go get her, Paul,” I growl, speaking to the part of him I know is determined, “you’ve never let anyone tell you what you can and can’t have, bro. Don’t let these posers start now.”

  I lick my lips. Lips begging for a bit of whiskey. Or better yet, Jane’s nectar. I need you to get what you need, so I can feel good about getting what I need. I chew on a fingernail. I won’t feel good about getting laid if you’re not.

  “$900,000,” says the MC, after a short pause, “do we have any other bids?” Another pause. “$900,000, going once, $900,000 going twice…”

  Just when I think Paul’s going to back out, and that I’m going to have to punch him to get him to go higher, he jumps out of his seat and yells, “A million dollars!” His voice is loud and firm.

  Murmurs go up as I would expect for such a bid, but I’m feeling good. Cocky. It’s my brother causing such a stir.

  “A million dollars,” murmurs the MC. “A million for this woman’s virginity, and a whole night in which to take it in whatever way you want.” A heavy, hot sigh. “Do I have any more takers?”

  Whisperings of “I’m out,” and “no way,” emerge from different tables around the room, proving to me that we are lions in a room full of pussies, when it comes down to it. Like I always knew him to be, Paul’s a true hunter. He’s holding his ground. His position, even when others are backing out and heading for the hills.

  “A million dollars going once, going twice.” The MC stops, purposely jacking up every man in the room. Jerking them off with the silence. The anticipation. Finally, as if she can feel the excitement swelling, and about to burst, she says, “Sold!”

  In that moment, I hear Mariah laugh, almost cry, with relief. I hear Jane celebrate, and that’s when I know I need to have her. My commitment is renewed. I need to make that voice cry and scream with pleasure. Call out my name like a mortal calling out to a God.

  In that same moment, my thoughts are disturbed by Paul celebrating his good fortune. “Yes!” He roars it, slamming his hands down on the table.

  In no time at all, Mariah’s is down off the stage and in Paul’s grasp. Before I can even wish him luck, he’s already dragging his virginal prize out of the doors with him. The way he moves reminds me of a gambler who just won against the casino and is now running out after cashing in his chips.

  Now it’s just me and Jordan.

  More importantly though, it’s just me and Jane now, and it’s finally her turn.

  “Well,” says the MC, as if she’s just had a fabulous meal along with everyone else, “I’m sure we’re all anxious to have that kind of excitement continue, but it’s time for the next lovely lady to put herself up for auction.” Without even needing to be called out, Jane steps forward. She’s in the fluffiest, most form-fitting sweater I’ve ever seen in my life. Her pants remind me of something in between jeans and sweatpants. Whatever they are, they’re absolutely delicious on her.

  If clothes could be an appetizer, I like what I’m tasting.

  And now it’s time for me to eat even more.

  “And what are you offering this evening, miss?”

  Jane doesn’t answer right away. She just smiles and breathes into the microphone.

  She looks at me, holding the mic like a silver cock she wants to suck. “Well,” she says, “let me think.”

  We intensify our mutual stare, and as we do, we know one thing for certain: she doesn’t need to think about anything. At all. She already knows what she wants.

  And so do I.

  Chapter 12

  Jane

  When it’s my turn to step up to the mic, I’m more excited than nervous. I miss having Mariah up here with me. Part of me wishes she were here for some moral support, but I know she’s in a better place. A million-dollar place with her dreamboat, probably getting some foreplay and some ideas about what’s to come.

  In my own way, I’m getting some foreplay too. Now that the older brother is gone, Alex has nothing to distract him from me, and I love it. I love the grip his eyes have on mine. It’s stronger than I’ve been held by anyone.

  “And what will you be offering us this evening, miss?” The MC’s question doesn’t do anything for me. Doesn’t rile me up like she’s hoping it will. Especially after such an explosive and intense bidding session with Mariah. Of course, she’s anxious to keep up the interest, as well as the dollar amounts, but I already know what I want.

  And the first thing I want, I think, taking the microphone, and smiling into it, is to keep my virginity to myself. I hold the mic in my hands, making sure told it like a cock. Alex’s cock. Luckily, it seems he gets my drift. Plus, a whole lot more. I say to the assembled audience I don’t care about, “well, let me think.”

  There’s really no thinking involved. I’m already super clear on what I’m offering, but I want to make these other men feel like they have a chance with me. Like they have even the slightest ability to predict me. Maybe that’ll keep the stupid ones from raising their hands.

  You know me so well, don’t you? I think, briefly, allowing myself to enjoy Alex’s intense gaze again. It’s even more enjoyable now, because his posture has changed to reflect it. But not in the way you think. He’s not sitting intensely forward. He’s laid-back now, like an Emperor on the throne. His eyes are now wolf-like. Not mean or scarily hungry; just wise. Confident. You know I don’t need to think about what I want, don’t you? And you know you want to be the one to give it to me, don’t you, big boy?

  I sigh in the microphone, this time letting them hear my voice. My contemplative hum. “I’m offering a whole night, no holds barred.” I pause, letting the men eat up my words like fast food. “During this night in question, you can do whatever you like to me.” I let my eyes return Alex, who’s just nodding. Almost like he’s getting in sync with me. Prepping himself to come out of the gate running, the moment I finish my offer. Good. That’ll make sure you get me, I think, holding him the same way he holds me. Intensely. “But I will be particularly interested in taking offers from men who are willing and able to stretch the definition of ‘whatever’ when it comes to what you want to do to me. Be a big dreamer,” I say, emphasizing those words for Alex though I know I don’t need to. “Be risky. Be wild. Be yourself,” I whisper, hoping he hears it. Or reads it on my lips.

  The MC is definitely hungry for what I’m serving. “Ooooh,” she says, letting me hear her pleasure as she takes the microphone back, “a fairly good offer to come on the heels of our Virgin Mary, don’t you think, boys? An offer to be risky. Wild. To be…creative in how you do her.”

  Chuckles from a few men who think they’re bedroom Einstein’s drift towards me, but we all know who is the alpha predator here. And he happens to be sitting not far away from me.

  “Isn’t that nice, boys?” The MC pauses. “If you’re ready, let’s start the bidding, shall we?”

  Cheers for this go up, but nowhere near as enthusiastic as the noise made for Mariah. Which is fine by me. I’m not jealous. And I don’t really care to be on anyone else’s
menu except Alex’s. From the looks of things, he’s ordered a drink to go along with my auction. Something dark and mysterious, much like him.

  “Any starting bids, gentleman?”

  Alex takes a sip of his drink, and says, “$10,000.” It’s so lazy — so unconcerned — it’s like he said ten, not ten thousand. The fact that he’s the first one to bid, and that his starting bid is so high, begins to make the front of my pants feel full. My lacy underwear, wet and slick.

  I knew you weren’t shy, I think, glancing at him as another bid comes in. This one is for $10,000 more.

  Unfazed, Alex takes another sip of his drink and puts forward another bid. “$50,000,” he says. Unlike his brother, there is no anxiety. No hesitation. Again, $50,000, sounds like $50 from his confident mouth.

  But if Alex were going for no competition, it seems this bid is a bit of a mistake. Once he says $50,000, it’s like the room erupts. Bids start flying, and from men who are looking at me trying to figure out what the other men see in me. Particularly the man who was first bid.

  By the way they look at me, it’s obvious that they don’t see it. But it doesn’t matter. The numbers keep flying.

  “$65,000,” says the cowboy who lost my friend to Paul.

  “$70,000!”

  “$80,000!”

  “$90,000,” says the cowboy in response to the two chumps trying to outbid him.

  “$100,000.” Surprisingly, this is from a woman.

  But I don’t even have time to find her in the crowd or wonder what she sees in me. Before that offer even has time to cool on the floor for more than a second, Alex comes back with, “$350,000!” Saying this, he drains his drink, and slams it down on the table. For emphasis, and to mark his territory.

  The tagalong friend at his table nurses an eggnog but doesn’t seem to be looking at any girl in particular. Just watching the action, like his type would. They love a good dick-measuring contest.