Chapter 7

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 drift, Sir.”

“It’s hard to miss. And what about the contract with the girls? What does it cover?”

“Each contract is personalised to the girl. They each have different, um, assets, to sell to gentlemen, and sometimes ladies, of different tastes. We interview them to see what they have to offer. Some of the girls, for example, are interested in art, or movies or literature. We have clients who are looking for what you might call a courtesan, who want an intelligent conversation with the girl.

“So, every contract is different and is tailored to the girl and what she agrees to do. For example, Jewel here,” he flips to a different page, “has offered to be a ‘wife’ for the period of one year with all the customary wifely responsibilities, including housekeeping and suchlike, as well as…. other duties. We have had a few similar contracts in the past. They can be a great success for both Buyer and Seller. Sometimes the girls renew the contracts or even marry their purchasers.”

“May I?” I flick the brochure pages until I find the right page. “And this girl? Charlotte?”

The sales rep looks closely at the image “Oh yes, Sir. There’s been a lot of inquiries about her. I think the strength of her appeal is obvious in the photos.”

“And her contract?”

“In the case of Charlotte, she has agreed to anything requested of her for the period of one week.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, Sir. Anything. That is to say, anything that does not result in her permanent injury.” His voice is dry. “She will certainly bring a good price.”

Jeez…. does she understand what ‘anything’ could mean in a place like this?

“Do you have any more photos of her?”

“We do, sir, but you will have to pay the deposit before you can see more than this. It’s to protect the girls from predators.”

“I understand.”

“And we need you to supply some personal details.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Sir. As I say, it’s to protect the girls.” He starts tapping his keyboard. “I need proof of ID, bank details….” He glances up at me as I reach for my wallet. “Do you have a criminal record?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Sorry, Sir. We have to ask.”

“Of course.”

“Anything else you think I should know?”

“Yes, sir. We require you to report at the end of the contract that you are satisfied with, um, delivery, and the girl is fit and well.”

“That’s understandable. Anything else?”

“Yes Sir, we will require a medical certificate from you, dated within the last two weeks, that you are certified free of STDs.”

I was due for my next visit to the clinic anyway.

“Fine, that’s not a problem. Please register me.”

*****