Man At The Auction Block

Giovanni

I sip whiskey from my place at the back booth of the auction floor. It's the quarterly draw, a party I throw for my associates, for lack of a better word.

We've had a good quarter, and this is their reward.

Every man who's walked into this room is captured by the many cameras. Every name noted. Every bid recorded in the ledger.

Piano music sets the backdrop, the collection of voices loud over it even though most speak in whispers during the breaks in entertainment.

These, too, are recorded, and they'll be dissected later.

Pretty women serve drinks and anything else required of them as the stage is readied, the next girl taking her place on the raised dais.

This one, her name is Diana or Donna or something. She looks young, but I'm assured she's legal. They like young, the men gathered here.

She's on offer for one night only, and from the look of her, she'll bring a high bid.

I study her face on my screen from the cameras installed behind the curtain. She's hesitant, to say the least, but Marcus handles it.

Marcus' loan comes due tonight — and I've been more than patient so he's got some incentive to make sure she gets her sweet little ass on that stage.

Besides, she'll be paid handsomely for her time. For the use of her body.

I watch as she's situated on the dais that's set at the very center of the stage. The auctioneer, an old English man, takes his place behind the podium. The gong sounds as the curtains are raised and a hush falls over the room.

The spotlight shines on the girl and she squints into the bright light, momentarily blinded. Two women peel the cream-colored cloak from her and let it drape at her feet.

There's a swell of approving sounds from the men who are probably all sporting hard-ons for the pretty, young blonde.

I admit, she is magnificent. Not my type, but magnificent.

The auctioneer takes in the response and starts the bidding high.

Good.

Flesh comes at a cost. One these bastards can afford to pay.

The elevator doors slide open, drawing my attention. Axel steps out and turns his gaze only momentarily to the stage. He's about as interested as I am in that girl. These women, it's too fucking easy with them.

Donna, or whatever the fuck her name is, is probably creaming herself as she's turned, bent over, and the numbers being shouted out grow higher and higher.

I'm more interested in the woman who's following Axel.

Well, following isn't quite the word.

She's got a man on either side of her and, for as small as she is, she's struggling to free herself of them.

She turns her head this way and that as she takes in the scene. I think she gasps when her gaze falls on the exposed woman on the stage about whom the auctioneer is embellishing the virtues of a virgin ass.

He's good.

He's very good.

Because her price just doubled.

The word virgin never disappoints. I get it. There's something about being the first man to sink your cock into virgin territory.

Marcus catches my eye from the side of the stage. He raises his glass to me.

I raise mine back because this puts me in a good mood. It means I'll get my money tonight and I won't have to get my hands dirty for it.

Contrary to my reputation, I don't like getting my hands dirty. I will when I need to, but this is easier. Cleaner.

Axel reaches my table and clears his throat.

I turn to him. He gestures to the girl to be brought forward.

"Ms. Williams. Ciara's sister," he says, sounding almost bored.

I shift my gaze to meet the girl's frightened one and all I can think for a moment is how her almond-shaped eyes match the color in my glass so perfectly.

Whiskey eyes.

Pretty. Very pretty.

With smooth olive skin and hair so dark it's almost black.

The photo I saw didn't do her justice.

"Let her go. She's not going anywhere, are you, sweetheart?"

I don't expect an answer.

When they release her, she brings the huge bag that was apparently on her shoulder in front of her.

She's clutching it like armor between herself and me.

"Get rid of that." I gesture with a quick nod of my head to the tote. I want to see the rest of her.

When one of the men reaches to take it, she pulls back, hisses at him.

Actually hisses.

I chuckle, sip from my glass, and watch, surprised to be entertained.

In the background, I register the gavel coming down once. Twice.

The number is making me very happy.

When the bag is gone, she looks back at me, her face flushed. She doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands but eventually closes her fingers over the back of the chair in front of her.

At least she's not making a spectacle of herself. Not yet, anyway. Not that anyone here would help her if she made a run for it.

She's wearing a heavy jacket.

Too heavy for this time of year.

“Sit.”

"Are you Mr. Giovanni? I think there's been a mistake."

"Sit."

Axel mutters a curse under his breath, takes her arm, pulls out the chair she's gripping and puts her in it.

"That's better," I say.

He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. His eyes narrow as he scans the crowd and they fall on one man in particular.

I look at the man, make note of who it is.

"Errand?" I ask him.

He turns to me, gives me one brief nod.

“I'll take care of this," I say to him. “Go."

He looks at me. “You sure?"

I glance at the pretty girl sitting stiffly across from me and give him a one-sided grin. “I don't think Ms. Williams will give me any trouble, will you?"

She just stares at me.

Axel chuckles. He makes his way through the crowd and it's like the parting of the sea as he approaches.

Which is why he works for me. He's one mean son of a bitch. It's good to have him on my side.

Makes a lot of things easier. Keeps leeches at bay.