One Tric Penny

To the Highest Bidder

The elevator took me to the eighth floor. The full-length glass wall gave a dramatic view of the neighborhood as I ascended. This was the first time I'd been here. Dressed in a hot red satin skirt and matching platforms, with a contrasting black button up shirt, I looked very high class, yet delectable. Still, I was nervous. There was no reason for me to be, I was just going to see Quinn.

It had been nearly a week. This was the first time since we'd repeatedly fucked, sucked and performed for Dave that I'd seen her. Still, it felt like I was going out on a second date with someone. Those dates where the real judgments and evaluation take place. I wondered what she was thinking about me now. Was I a tease? A hopeless Pro-tender, toying with a fantasy she was too afraid to explore? Why did I care so much about what she thought anyway?

I rang the doorbell and waited. I'd been invited and was expected. She opened the door and smiled broadly as she ushered me inside. Her condo had an urban modern style, most likely designed by an experienced professional. Lots of darks and offsetting colors in furnishing that looked more like display pieces, rather than for lounging by the TV in comfort. The view from the floor to ceiling windows facing the west provided an even more spectacular view over the bay in the distance.

The only thing more spectacular in the room was how she was dressed. She wore a light-blue cocktail dress that fit like it was sewn around her. Her shoulders were exposed, and she had on chunky hoop earrings that clearly were not simply gold plated.

"I wanted your opinion. Does this look dressy enough?"

"If you're on the red carpet for the Oscars, heads would all be turning."

"Thanks. It's nothing quite like that. This is for a benefit for the political action committee I'm part of. We're having an event tomorrow."

I looked her over once more. I still want your body, bitch; I thought. "You're part of a PAC?"

She adjusted the hem of the skirt, which was mid-length and nicely accentuated her nylon encased legs. "It called Women's Hospitality Opportunity Resource Equity or WHORE-PAC for short. A little inside joke, surprisingly most people don't get."

"You're serious?"

She went on to explain that WHORE-PAC contributes substantially to local politician's campaigns in the form of free speech advertising in their favor. "So much money is going to the national candidates that local office seekers can be had for next to nothing."

I must have looked a bit shocked. "You're buying off government officials? Isn't that bribery?"

She laughed at my naivety. "It's not bribery. When something is obviously wrong, they re-conceptualize it to make it sound attractive. Re-branding. They've managed to re-brand bribery and corruption. They sell it to the public as free speech, when in reality the average citizen has lost all say in government."

"And your PAC is getting its say? Is that why you said the Aventeen Hotel was 'sheltered'?"

Her face lit up as I appeared to understand. "Exactly. We help certain people get elected and they in turn direct law enforcement to concentrate of more pressing issues of social blight."

"So the cops sweep the hookers off Broadway..."

She wasn't being sarcastic when she said, "Pick those enslaved women off the streets and offer them a chance at redemption, and leave us free market entrepreneurs the fuck alone."

I shook my head. This was unbelievable.

"That's what's so great about raw capitalism." She was almost beaming with pride. "Money trumps everything."

Everything I'd once believed was knocked on its ear. I had to change the subject. "So what's the benefit about?"

"A big party. Lots of movers and shakers. When the family-friendly types leave around 10, they have an auction to raise money of our candidates."

"Dare I ask; what's up for bid?"

She moved a leg forward and ran a hand up her body. "A few dozen of us from The Aventeen and other private interests. All high-quality ass."

Apparently, I'd been living a very sheltered existence. I looked out the window trying to think of what to say next.

She put her hand on my shoulder. "I had an idea you might find fun. I can get tickets for you and Dave. You can be in the auction. Most women go for a thousand to fifteen hundred. But the event only takes twenty percent. Dave could win you and it'll only cost him a couple of hundred." She smiled warmly at me. "It's for a good cause, and I'm sure you'd find it thrilling."

I'll have to consider it. That's what I should have said and meant to say. But, ever since last week, Dave kept dropping hints about Penny's next big adventure. It felt exhilarating being with Quinn doing the celebrity impersonation routine. I had no idea how to top that. That is until Quinn invited me to the WHORE-PAC event. I guess part of me wanted to see just how far I was willing to go with this game. The other part didn't want to disappoint Quinn.

"OK, I'm in."

~ ~ ~

Local leaders, professional athletes, newscasters, entertainers - if they were on local television, they were in the banquet hall that night. I wore a classy evening gown that still managed to say slutty and Dave wore a rented tuxedo. For the paying guests, this was a thousand dollar a plate affair. For us, the admission fee was free, since I was more or less, on the after dessert menu.

The dinner was something to behold, as were most of the women to be featured later. We mingled and rubbed elbows with the social elite and slightly infamous. Before, Quinn hauled me off to be displayed for the coming auction, I was sure to have one last defining conversation with Dave.

"You know the drill. I go up on the stage. You lay back, but outbid everybody for my favors. Do you have that?"

"Yes, I have it. I've got $2,200 in cash with me. I'll be able to win you twice if it comes to that."

"It won't. After you get laid, we take off. I'm not turning other tricks here, even with the star football player I just saw."

Dave corrected me. "He's the starting quarterback. And would it be so bad if you had to fuck him?"

I stared angrily into his eyes. He saw how serious I was. "Whatever he plays; I don't want to fuck anybody but you. No games and no screw-ups? Got it."

"OK, I'll do my part. I'd better get one hell of a fuck out of this."

I wanted to make myself perfectly clear. "You'll get my best, but if you mess this up, it will be a long time with anything but your own hand."

The room began to clear out with anything other than those of us on the block and those bidding for our affections. We mingled with the men, most of whom were older with entitled attitudes. A few chatted us up, but most just ogled the goods. The copious wine and spirits I consumed helped make the process slightly more palatable.

Quinn again admonished me, "Be sure to let me know when you've finished with Dave, so I can get you out of here."

The auction was announced, and the first item on the docket was a slender redhead, with a killer body and cheekbones to die for. Her smile was electric. She wore a Western inspired gown.

An announcer called out, "This is Darleen. Age 26. Her specialty is the reverse cowgirl."

She did a polite curtsey that also showed those in front her ample cleavage through her loose top.

"Too bad we aren't allowed to bid on the other girls," I said to Quinn who was standing next to me.

She nodded and replied, "So, you have a thing for redheads? I'll admit; she is hot."

I didn't have time to detail my recent experience with one, but the thought of her was making me excited. "Yeah, I have to admit, there is something about them."

Over the PA system, we heard, "Bidding starts as $500."

That figure was met immediately. It started to go up quickly in fifty dollar increments. I was surprised when it peaked out at $900.

"First girl of the night always goes low, but it's not a bad start." Quinn could see I was getting nervous.

Darleen walked off stage and grabbed the hand of a grey-haired man I recognized as a city councilman. He'd was on the news a couple of months ago railing against the decline in public morals at public beaches and how police needed to increase patrols.

"He's one of our best supporters for keeping The Aventeen sheltered," Quinn whispered to me.

He took his prize through a side door. She returned a half-hour later with her perfectly quaffed hair a bit disheveled.

The auction carried on with most women going slightly higher, between $1000 to $1250. Even Quinn fetched only $1200. I was on next.

"This is Penny. A first timer here at the WHORE-PAC auction. Penny is 23. Her specialty is anything you want."

I felt awkward. Most of the women here were absolutely gorgeous. I hoped I wouldn't be embarrassed. I sucked in my gut.

"Who'll give us $500?"

With the lights, I couldn't see who was moving around in the audience. I heard $500 bid. It didn't sound like Dave. I waited for him to rescue me with another $50.

That didn't happen. The bid bumped up to six hundred and then seven and even more quickly eight.

I head two distinct voices. Both very from older men. One sounded drunk. The auction was turning into a bidding war between the two. I heard someone say, "Fifteen hundred."

"Sixteen', called the more sober voice.

"Eighteen." The guy sounded really drunk.

A lull set in among the crowd. One of the bidders was at his end; or so I hoped. I waited for Dave's voice.

Instead, over the PA, the announcer proclaimed, "Going once, going twice."

Dave?

"Eighteen fifty." Dave finally jumped in at the last second.

"Nineteen and twenty," came the slurred voice.

"I'm sorry, sir. Only fifty dollar increments."

"OK, then that."

"We have, nineteen hundred and fifty dollars."

"Two thousand." Dave was loud and clear. It almost sounded like a challenge. A hush seemed to go owe the room.

"We have a new record bid. Do we have any more offers?"

"Twenty-one." The drunk was even louder.

"Twenty-one and fifty."

"Any more?"

"Shit," said the drunk.

"Sold for two thousand and fifty dollars to the gentleman in the black tux."

"I'll get ya next time, darling." People began to laugh at his drunken tirade. I took a big sigh of relief.

I presented myself to the lucky winner, and he hurried me to a backroom. "We don't have much time, why don't you get naked now and lay on the sofa for me?"

"It would be better to leave, and collect your prize at home."

"Hey, for $2,150 I'm getting laid. Here and now."

It hit me; someone was willing to spend over two thousand dollar just to have sex one time with me. They said I'd set a new record. The smart thing to do was leave now. They could keep my portion of the proceeds. The problem, I was now even more turned on that Dave. The thrill of being so close to committing myself for paid sexual gratification, the feeling of danger and doing something so out of the ordinary. My cunt was craving my sugar daddy's erection.

Within seconds, I'd unzipped him and had his cock in my sluttish mouth. We could clearly hear other couples fucking away in the adjoining rooms; each of these woman's asses bought and paid for. Mine had the highest dollar value, when I wasn't even sure I'd bring in the minimum.

Before I knew it, my fancy dress was in a heap on the floor and my patron's cock was working away at my pussy. I came quickly and let as many people know I was one of the courtesans of the evening being fucked for compensation.

Dave shot his load several minutes later. He checked his phone. We had been here for forty-five minutes, screwing each other's brains out. He was evidently as charged up about this scenario as me.

We hurriedly dressed and made our way to a convenient side door. I could catch up with Quinn later. For now, this was our time to get out of Dodge. I pressed the door latch and it wouldn't budge. Dave tried. The door was locked.

A man in a dark blue suit entered the room. "I'm sorry, sir. You cannot leave with one of the ladies."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward the banquet hall. "This is for your protection, Miss. We can't allow you to leave with a stranger."

I wanted to explain that Dave was no stranger. I was married to the man. I kept my mouth shut. The truth could cause us a world of trouble. I recognized this man. He, too, was on the news often. He was the county Assistant Sheriff. He had a reputation as a real bastard.

I was being brought back to be in the next round of the auction. This time, Dave had $50 in cash.

~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 11 of 12 ~ ~ ~