Chapter 8

Taking a coffee break sitting on the hotel balcony, I hear the ping of my email.

Idly, coffee cup in hand, I wander through to see what’s arrived….

Subject Line: Tender for Contract Ref A3748/2015/B - Haswell

A prickle runs down my spine and my gut clenches. All the days and months, nay, years, of work I put in….

Coffee forgotten, I open the email.

Dear Mr Alexanders,

We are pleased to inform you that your tender for Contract Ref A3748/2015/B has been successful….

I stare at it unbelieving, my brain not absorbing what my eyes are seeing, then…

I've done it! I've fucking done it!

I don’t know what to do with myself. In the space of a minute, I’ve gone from struggling entrepreneur to having more money than I’m ever going to need.

I glance down at the invoice for Georgetta’s University fees and burst out laughing.

What to do now?

Some things just have to be shared.

I tap into my mobile:

I’m celebrating. U free tonite?

sure what’s the celebration?

Got the contract

THE contract? The 1 u told me about?

Yes

Wow! congrats man. c u 8 pm at mine? Meal and club?

Gr8 c u then

*****

In a restaurant, over steak and salad, “I’ve got something else to tell you.”

“Oh? As well as hitting the big time? You have been busy. What’s that then?” Michael tops up our glasses with the rather good Rioja we’re sharing.

“I’ve, um…. I’ve signed up to attend a rather unusual auction.”

“Really?” He looks intrigued. “You finally buying yourself a house? Now you’ve got that contract? You were fast on your feet.”

“No, nothing like that.”

I pass him the brochure. He looks at the front, frowning.

Looking for the Girl of Your Dreams?

He looks baffled. “A dating agency? For you?”

“No, it’s not a dating agency. Read what it says inside.”

He starts reading, brows furrowing. “I don’t get it, James. If you want to buy a woman, you’ll find one at a lot less than these prices. The working-girls on most of the street-corners down in the old town wouldn’t empty the small change from your pocket…. If you were into that sort of thing. Why on earth….?”

“Look at page thirty-two.”

He riffles through to the page, looks and whistles. “Wow! What a stunner. I can see why she’s drawn your eye, but….” His eyes are still, scanning, reading the notes, “…. there’s plenty of willing gals around the clubs. Why….” He pauses. “Hang on, it says here this girl’s a virgin.”

“That’s right.”

He stares at me. “You’re not serious?”

“Why shouldn’t I be serious? Look at her. Wouldn’t you like to….”

“Yes, I would, if she was willing and if she was experienced and knew what to expect. Your tastes run to slapping them ‘til their asses glow in the dark, then sucking them dry while they're still screaming. It’s fair enough for the girls who like that sort of thing, but on a virgin, that would be abuse.”

I begin to feel uneasy.

Is he right?

It sounded like a much better idea when it stayed inside my head….

“You have got to be kidding me. James, you can pull all the women you want or can handle with no effort. Why on earth would you want to do something like this?”

“They’re all there as volunteers, all consenting….”

Michael’s smile is gone.

I didn’t expect this.

He’s angry with me....

“I’m not going to abuse the girl obviously. We’ve known each other for years. Surely you don’t think….”

“Yes, years. And I’ve seen a hundred times what you expect from a woman. Your wife left you because of it. So now, you want what? To buy a virgin?” Michael’s voice is rising, and waiters and some of the other customers are looking our way. He looks around, then drops his voice to a hiss. “Are you out of your fucking head? With your tastes, you think you’re the man to put a virgin in the saddle? You have some sort of virgin fantasy? You want to deflower a young girl? Enough to buy one.” He checks the page again, “…. She’s twenty-two. She’s younger than your daughter for fuck’s sake!”

He stares me down, food forgotten, red-faced and livid with anger. “Count me out, James. I want nothing to do with this! Nothing! You understand me?”

I try one more approach. “I’m not planning on hurting the girl. Do you seriously think I would brutalise a young woman who’d never….? What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Right now? I’m not sure…. What exactly does this fantasy of yours involve? What is it you want to do with her? Slapping ten shades of shit out of a sub who wants it, who enjoys it, is one thing, but….”

“I want to make it…. good…. for her….”

He relaxes a bit. “Good? What does that mean, exactly?”

What do I mean….?

“It means…. good. You know how it is. The first time’s never great for anyone, especially for women, unless they’ve got someone who knows what they’re doing. What was your first time like?”

He glares at me, not answering, but the heat of his anger looks to be draining away, then, “And that’s what’s in your head? To make a girl’s first time special for her?”

“Yes, that’s what I want to do.”

He’s silent, staring at the table, drumming his fingers.

“Can I call you afterwards to tell you that she's okay?” I ask.

“What? Afterwards? What do you mean?”

“Afterwards. I’ll call you, to let you know she’s alright.”

He stares down, arms folded, then “Alright, you can call me, but otherwise, I don’t want to know anything about it.” And without looking at me, he stands and leaves.

Well, that didn’t go as I expected.

I’ve lost my appetite for the meal and the wine. Miserably, I pay the bill and go.

James - The Present

I pause on the threshold….

Michael’s words and anger echo in my head.

Should I really be doing this?

There’s a good crowd and the hall is full. Rather than taking a seat, I hover at the back, watching the proceedings for the ongoing…. lot….

Is that the right word for this?

The girl on the podium is collared and kind of so-so looking. She’s pretty enough; not my type, but there’s plenty who would go for her; a brunette with sultry eyes and pouting lips.

Her figure’s good and there’s plenty of chance to see it. She’s wearing a leather harness that pushes her tits up and out, displaying everything she’s got. Technically, she’s not naked, but she might as well be.

Her behaviour is odd….

What counts as odd in this situation?

She’s behaving as though she’s coy, or bashful, but it doesn’t look genuine. There’s a hard edge to her expression.

I glance at her details on the brochure. She’s called ‘Blossom’….

And it claims that she’s a virgin.

Yeah, right…

If she’s a virgin, I’m Santa Claus….

I bite down disappointment. If this is the standard of what is being offered….

Still I’m here. Might as well watch the show….

Bored by the cynical artificiality of Blossom, I let my gaze wander around the room. There’s a couple of hundred in attendance, and more with a virtual presence via internet links and agents bidding by phone proxy.

I recognise a few faces, from the clubs and elsewhere. There’s Abe a few rows in front, across the aisle from me. I laugh to myself. I know what he does for a living; a second-hand car salesman; a very bad second-hand car salesman. There’s no way he can afford the prices they’re asking, even the starting bids. So, he’s just here for the show.

He must have paid the deposit though….

There are some unsavoury-looking characters. One row of seats is taken by a group of six or eight men who appear to be working together with one acting as spokesman and bidder.

So, what happens when a group buys the girl?

A few rows in front, there’s Jake Gordonton, a nasty piece of work if ever there was one. He’s been banned from most of the clubs.

What would happen to any girl he bought?

Nothing good….