I almost snorted at her fake cheeriness, but the thing was she hardly seemed fake. The blonde really was smiling and bubbly, even though she must have known what I'd just been through, that I'd just been auctioned off to a man.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm a little confused. What's going on? And what's ‘Prep?'"
The blonde chortled merrily.
"It's for you to get prepped of course! We make sure our girls are in top condition when they're handed to buyers, so of course, we take good care of them. You must be tired and hungry," she said, taking my elbow and guiding me down a pale blue hallway, leading me to a small, plush waiting room. "Please, have a snack."
I gasped. There was a cornucopia of fruit and veggies, plus little pastries, petit fours, even chocolate-covered strawberries. I looked at the spread but there was nowhere near enough, I needed real food and not dainty nothings.
"I'm so sorry," I hesitated, biting my lip. "But I'm really hungry. Could I get something more substantial? Maybe a burger or some pizza?"
And Melissa's tinkling laughter sounded again.
"Sure, I'll order a salmon salad for you," she agreed. "But why don't you make yourself comfortable for the time being, read some magazines, have some rose-infused ice water. You must be parched," she said, picking up a crystal pitcher with pink petals floating inside. "Let me pour you a glass."
But when she handed me the water, I looked at it skeptically. I was afraid to put anything in my mouth in this place, honestly, look what had happened to Rachel. Melissa's laugh just rang out again.
"Nothing but water," she chirped merrily. "Well that, plus a little rose."
And screw it, I was so thirsty that I took a sip. Ah, the cool liquid hit the spot, sliding down my throat as I drank more, letting the delicious water calm my nerves, refreshing me from the inside. I could almost feel myself decompressing, the nightmares of tonight fading somewhat.
And Melissa nodded.
"Isn't it amazing what a little water will do?" she remarked with a smile. "Here, why don't you take that off, and put this on," she said, holding out a plush, terrycloth bathrobe. I needed no persuading for this and in an instant, was out of the midnight blue cloak, the velvet dropping in a puddle to the ground, and into the bathrobe, letting the soft material hug my curves, like a big teddy bear giving me a hug.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "You can't imagine what I've been through, it's been really hard."
Melissa laughed gently.
"All the girls say that when they come here, but think of this as a break," she said comfortingly. "Here's where you're gonna be primped and pampered, made to feel like a princess before you meet your buyer. So relax," she said merrily. "Eat, drink, read magazines or even catnap a bit. I'll be back once your bath is ready," she said, letting herself out, shutting the door behind her.
And despite the low music playing, the soothing strains of violins, I heard the lock snap shut behind her. Because this was still a prison, despite the food and drink, the rose-infused water, the luxurious spa-like atmosphere. Even if I was in for a pampering, the underlying truth of my situation still stood. I was a prisoner, I'd been sold, and after all this was over, there would be a man on the other side, ready to claim his goods, made fresh and pretty for his pleasure.
My only consolation, as embarrassing as it was to admit, was that my buyer was the dark man. God, I hoped it was him. It had to be him. I couldn't survive this if it wasn't him, I couldn't survive a week in captivity, my heart, mind, and soul would break if it wasn't him. So getting down on my knees in the small room, I did something I hadn't done in a long time. I prayed. I prayed, pressing my forehead to my clasped hands, eyes squeezed shut, mentally begging the gods, the spirits, the nymphs of the world to have mercy on me, to work with me, to offer a boon. And my thoughts were inarticulate, words passing through my soul soundless, more a rush of feeling, of emotion, grief and happiness mixed into one. Because I wasn't praying for my escape, or to be free from these binds. Quite the opposite. I was praying for the dark man to be my captor, for the man with blue eyes to make me his.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Troy
I sat on a stool in the bathroom, my big form indolent, relaxed, still dressed in a suit despite the steamy interior. Because I'd bucked all tradition. Normally, the product is prepped and primped within an inch of her life before she's turned over to the buyer, the girl's given the full spa treatment, all sorts of feminine fripperies, I had no idea what exactly. But I couldn't wait. After the auction, I'd tapped my foot impatiently as the money transferred, as two million big ones were direct deposited from my account into escrow. And after the screen flashed, "Confirmed," I let out a growl.
"Are we done now?" I ground out to no one in particular. But this is the Billionaires Club and you're never really alone, so of course a voice piped up from nowhere, computerized, like an android answering my question.
"Yes, sir," it said complacently. "Please feel free to return to your quarters, the woman will be delivered to you after Prep is over."
But I shook my head furiously.
"Naw," I ground out. "I want to see her now."
The voice remained unfazed.
"If you like, there is a viewing area for buyers," intoned the computer. "You may view your charge as she is bathed and primped, anonymously of course."
But I shook my head, still dissatisfied.
"Naw, like I said, I want to see her now. I want to see her, to touch, to lay eyes on her without a wall of glass between us, see those boobies jiggle," I said. Fuck, I shook my head. I'm an alpha male but this was getting crazy, like an obsession. And I hadn't even met the little girl yet, not formally at least. I'd just seen that beautiful body on the dais, watched as she played with herself, and it wasn't enough. I had to have her.
Because fuck, I don't pay big money to view the goods through a glass case, I wanted to touch, to fuck, to play with that little girl, feel that steaming cunt wrapped around my dick, and the sooner the better. So I grunted, speaking again.
"Tell you what," I ground out. "Why don't I get her clean, it can't be that complicated right? I shower every day, I know what to do."
And the voice was silent for a moment. I almost thought it was going to say no, that I was going to have to find management to complain, lodge some written statement. But instead, it spoke again, unperturbed as always.
"Yes, of course, you may join Article Twenty-One in the bath if you wish. Please depart your booth."
And the door to the console whisked open, a path of lights flickering along the walkway. I stepped out of the booth and followed the guides, walking for what seemed like miles on a twisted, crooked road, even leading me up and down, climbing mountains before descending into valleys. I was going to have to get management on this, I was here to enjoy myself, not work up a sweat.
But finally, a doorway appeared in the wall, sliding open with a hiss, leading to a gilded bathroom. The fucking place was cavernous, the size of a modest apartment, there was a spa bath, a shower, two sinks, a dressing room, a lounge, all the walls tinted a subtle gold, sprays of flowers positioned strategically. And fuck, it was steamy too, luxurious, a sweet fragrance greeting my senses.
"Please make yourself comfortable," the voice piped up again. "Article Twenty-One will be delivered shortly."
I grunted, seating myself on a stool.
"By the way," I called out to no one in particular. "Could you get lost for a while? I want some privacy with my new purchase."
Again, only silence. Did that mean the computer was off? Or was it on still, and just listening? But the voice rang out once more.
"Certainly sir," it said, and with a small click it was gone with an eerie silence. Or at least I hoped it was gone. You never knew with this place.
But I sighed. Fuck, I didn't really care if they watched as I sampled the girl, enjoyed that luscious female form. I'm ripped and toned with the body of a god, and I don't mind performing for unseen eyes. And fuck, these girls were made for fucking, so of course I was going to fuck my charge, that's what I wanted from the brunette, those huge tits pressed in my mouth, her cunt squeezing me tight as she bounced up and down my cock. So if they wanted to watch, that was fine by me.
But where the hell was my charge? I looked around, rolling my eyes. Sure the bathroom was luxurious, the tub already steaming with water, but where the fuck was my girl? And suddenly, the door cracked open and my purchase stepped in. She was wearing some huge terrycloth robe, the midnight blue cloak gone, but the fuzzy fabric couldn't hide the generous curves beneath, the luscious femaleness.