A week later.
I wait in one of the private suites at Club Z, a bit nervous. After all, I’ve never had access to this part of the club. There’s been no reason because bartenders are considered part of the food and beverage staff, so we stay in the West Wing. But here, in the deep recesses of the compound, are a series of luxurious suites that take my breath away.
Looking around, I feel like I’m in a dressing room preparing for a turn in an old classic black and white movie. There’s a walk-in closet full of beautiful women’s clothes that cost more than what I make in a year, and when I opened the dresser drawer, expensive, lacy lingerie greeted me. Of course, there’s a second closet stocked to the ceiling with plastic boxes filled with women’s shoes. Boots, flats, stilettos, slippers, you name it – it’s all there. Plus, on the far wall is a floor to ceiling mirror with sides that angle, and a chest next to it filled with items that made me shiver: whips, handcuffs, and other toys that I couldn’t even identify. I guess some of the auctions and private shows get pretty crazy.
But none of that applies to my current situation. Instead, I stare at myself in the mirror, noting my flushed cheeks. The lingerie I’m wearing is certainly scandalous, but feminine too. It’s black lace and about eighty percent see-through with mesh cups covering just enough of my breasts to contain my nipples, lifting my heavy tits together and amplifying my luscious cleavage. The lace continues down the front of my body, turning into a see-through mesh material which forms a garter, wrapping around my back just above the curve of my ass. Sure enough, the fabric doesn’t cover my ass or pussy. Instead, it’s strapped to see-through black hose, leaving my pussy and ass on full display. After all, the guys who are bidding will want to touch, and this lingerie will provide full access.
Tentatively, I lift a leg, positioning my right foot on a nearby step-stool and inspect myself in the mirror. Good, good. My pussy is fully shaved, the pink already glistening and juicy. Then I turn and bend over, exposing my coffee pucker. It winks under the light as I pull my cheeks apart and swallow heavily. God, this is so wrong but is it bad to say that I’m looking forward to the auction? And not just for the money either, but because of the sheer naughtiness of what’s about to happen.
But I have to stay in control. Sure, my heart’s racing and my palms are feeling a little clammy, but no one’s going to fork over thousands of dollars if I don’t perform. I have to deliver, otherwise I’ll probably be fired. That’s the real consequence of taking on this gig.
Suddenly, the door bangs open and sure enough, it’s Benny again. Why can’t that guy open doors like a normal person? Even more, my skin crawls with disgust as his stupid beady eyes go straight to my exposed ass, eating up the hefty swells.
“Looking good, Sierra,” he huffs. “Real good.”
“Thanks,” I manage in a wan tone. “Should we go?”
“Yeah,” he grunts, wheezing a bit. “It’s time to get this show on the road.” But instead of turning away, he steps closer and this time, I see that Benny’s holding up a black silk scarf clutched between his chunky fingers.
“What’s that for?” I ask, nonplussed.
He grins, stretching it out and holding it up in front of my face.
“What do you think? I’m going to blindfold you.”
Frowning, I narrow my eyes at him.
“Is that really necessary? I mean, I know what I’m getting into.”
Benny laughs callously, and starts wrapping the scarf around my face without waiting for me to give him permission.
“No, you need it,” he chuckles. “This is your first auction, Sierra, and I don’t want you getting cold feet. Or cold tits. Or cold anything. So I think a blindfold is best.”
I grit my teeth as he ties it around the back of my head, knotting it way too tight.
“I really don’t think this is necessary,” I begin again. But it’s already done, and then Benny steps away.
“Perfect,” he wheezes. “We should dress you like this more often, Sierra, because I bet the bar would make some real money with you dolled up in lingerie.”
I’d roll my eyes, but with the scarf covering them, it’s pointless. Then, my boss grabs my hand, and starts guiding me towards the door. Come to think of it, I’m suddenly glad I’m blindfolded because maybe the guys bidding on me are seventy-year-old trolls. Maybe they’re deformed hunchbacks, although come to think of it, I’ve never seen any hunchbacks at the club before. If anything, the male clientele is gorgeous, handsome and dressed to the nines, so I highly doubt I’m going to be pawed by gnomes.
Then, Benny guides me down the hall and opens a new door before nudging me into a room. I can sense it because the A/C is on full blast and cold air hits my skin like ice, making me shiver. My nipples grow taut and hard against the delicate lace and I wobble a bit in my high heels.
Benny chuckles, and leans uncomfortably close to me.
“Don’t worry, baby cakes, you’ll be hot soon enough.”
Oh great. Now he’s given me a new demeaning nickname. I ignore it and focus on the situation at hand.
“What now?” I ask in a fairly steady voice.
Benny grasps my shoulder and turns me to my right. “Now you climb up on the table in front of you, and get on your hands and knees as you wait for your bidders.”
I jerk my head in the direction of his voice.
“What? You’re joking, right?”
He grabs my elbow and moves me forward until I feel the table edge hit my hip.
“Nope, not a joke. The clients are going to want an open view of that juicy pussy and ass of yours before they bid, so hands and knees is the perfect position. We want to make sure they know just what they’re paying for. You agreed to this, remember?”