Highest Bidder

And Sold!

“You are to strut like a runway model, up and back twice, then sit in the chair and wait for the bidding to be done. We don’t need you distracting bidders from actually bidding,” Mr. Number Caller states. The confusion I am feeling must show on my face, because he huffs in annoyance and comes to a stop, turning to me.

“Watch. Take notes, but don’t you dare try running,” he snaps out and turns back around.

I pay close attention as his posture changes and his head raises slightly, giving off a confident air about him. I would find his runway model strut funny in a normal situation, but why he was actually doing it, has me sobering up pretty quickly and keeps me from so much as smiling. He stops for a few moments, sticks his hip out only a bit as he turns, then struts back towards me. I can hear him mumbling something as he moves, but I don’t catch the words. He stops in front of me and drops the act. That answers my first question, but how could I distract bidders from bidding? Isn’t that what they are actually here for?

“Let me see you do it and hurry. We haven’t got much time,” he snaps, motioning with his hands for me to go. I do my, best adding fake courage to my walk and swinging my hips with more force than normal, then stop a little ways down, turn like he did, and head back towards him.

“Smile,” he commands. I force the biggest smile I can, but from the look on his face, I know it’s more of grimace than an actual smile.

“You’re lucky that you have that innocent look about you, but otherwise you should do fine,” he says, then turns once more and continues walking. The ‘innocent look’ comment confuses me, but again I don’t dare ask any questions.

We reach a set of double doors just a few seconds later, and I can clearly hear the noise coming from the other side. I know this is the end of the line for me. We have reached the final destination

“Lose the robe,” he commands, snapping his fingers with impatience.

I swallow thickly, take a deep breath in and let it out as I reach up and untie the string holding  the robe together. I lower it down my shoulders and just let it fall to the floor, wanting to get this over quickly. The sudden exposure causes me to flush and pink to stain my cheeks.

My escort pushes one of the doors open and places a hand on my back, ushering me into the room. His hand on my lower back applies pressure, giving me a little shove. I step onto what appears to some sort of stage. I see a man, clear on the other side, standing at a podium of some sort, with his eyes on something I can’t see to the side of the stage. I scan my eyes around what appears to be a massive room, chock full of people. Most of those in attendance appear to be men, with just a few women scattered around. I glance around and catch sight of what I assume I am supposed to ‘strut like a runway model’ on. It’s long and narrow, going out into the middle of the crowd. I search some more and find a little metal folding chair behind whom I’m assuming is the auctioneer. I continue walking along the stage area and shudder the closer I get to the runway and to the crowd. I bow my head as a few heads swivel in my direction as I approach.

“Head up,” a man’s voice calls out angrily from the other side of the stage, close to where the auctioneer is standing, but it seems a little further away. I snap my head up in fear that I was going to get punished, recognizing the deep baritone voice as the man I had seen just before leaving to come here. Jenna had called him the man in charge, and after meeting him, I know that to be true. He had oozed power when I had been in the room with him.

My knees start to buckle as I take in the scene around me. I had drawn more attention to myself and now all the occupants have officially turned to look at me. Now was not the time to freak out—especially with the man in charge standing somewhere near by. I need to find something else to focus on. I find a spot on the back wall of the large room and keep my eyes focused on that. Crude comments are yelled out and wolf whistles begin as I start my model strut down the runway. I can feel my cheeks turning what is most likely fire engine red at this point, but I never move my eyes from that spot. I finally seem to come to the end and do my turn, earning even more crude comments and more whistles from the crowd. I find another spot on the opposite wall and keep focus on that until it is time to turn once again. My second time down and back doesn’t seem take as long, as I successfully manage to tune everything out around me. I keep just enough awareness of what is going on around me to prevent myself from messing up and end up getting punished before I am even auctioned off.