Candidate Four (3 page)

Twelve!
She opened her eyes and let out the breath she’d been holding. A Concierge held his hand out and she took it, allowing him to escort her from her place in the line where only three girls remained. The twelfth man stood and adjusted the button on his suit jacket. He was tall, at least an inch or two over six feet, and even more fit than she first estimated. He had a lean build but was muscular even beneath his suit.

The Concierge between them, Natalie and the twelfth man were led from the windowless room to the hallway where her blindfold was first unmasked, and into a grand foyer with a dark marble floor, more chandeliers and two elevator doors. She glanced over her shoulder to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the city far away, light glittering from the homes, stores, bars and tourist attractions in a picture perfect urban night sky.

An elevator pinged and its doors opened, an invitation to truly begin the evening’s activities. The twelfth man, the Concierge and Natalie stepped inside and rode in silence to a fourth and top floor.

“As requested, Sir, the Penthouse,” the Concierge announced as the elevator doors opened once again. He was the first to exit, taking Natalie with him and the twelfth man following behind into a foyer that matched the grandeur and luxury of the one downstairs, but was a fraction of the size. The Concierge retrieved a card key from his pocket and quickly opened the door.

“Sir,” he nodded as he handed the key to the bidder. At once he relinquished Natalie’s arm. “Please enjoy your evening.” He turned, re-entered the elevator, and was gone.

Finally Natalie looked up at her bidder, and like the first time, found he was staring at her. Up close and in better lighting she decided his eyes were a deep blue-green, still slightly too big for his face, and that he was even more handsome than she initially recognized. But beyond the charming and handsome façade there seemed to be an alpha male through and through.

She was out of her league.

“After you,” he spoke for the first time. There was the slightest hint of an accent in his voice, one she couldn’t place. Western European perhaps?

As she passed him to enter the room she caught the scent of his expensive cologne and softly sighed. He smelled divine. The penthouse was equally divine, all modern furnishings done in creams and satin metal finishes with the same view of the city as the downstairs foyer. It was set up to look more like a home than a hotel room, with a large couch that dominated the center of the living space, a floating column that doubled as an ultra-modern fireplace — lit and gently roaring — plus a dining table that could seat eight and a bar stocked with what looked like every conceivable bottle of top-shelf liquor.

“Would you like something to drink?” the twelfth man asked. Natalie saw there was a bottle of Veuve Clicquot already chilled and uncorked with two long fluted stems on either side of it on the coffee table.

“Please.” Anything to help relax the nervous energy that was coursing through her chest and limbs. She watched him pour the first glass, the muscles in his arms flexing as he handled the heavy bottle, the cut of his jaw as his head angled. There was something…
mesmerizing
about him. He was not a man she would ordinarily find herself in the same room with, let alone in bed with.

‘What happens once you’re with the bidder? How do you know what to do?’
This question Natalie had asked before her second cocktail, which may have been the reason she drank the second, third, and fourth.

‘They let you know.’

That was it?
‘That sounds potentially dangerous.’
You had to be willing to consent to anything? Was there any limit to what the men were allowed to do?

‘It is,’
Quinn smirked.
‘They’re paying for you for the evening. Believe me, they already know what they want to do with you. Or to you.’

The twelfth man handed her a full champagne flute and kept one for himself.

“What’s your name?” he asked as she accepted the drink.

“Natalie.”

“You have a very pretty name, Natalie.”

“I’ll tell my mother you think so.”
Oh God, why did I say that?
She cringed inwardly, hoping her face wasn’t also outwardly cringing. She laughed, shook her head and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “I mean, thank you.”

“What would you like to toast to, Natalie?” he asked, apparently missing her verbal stumble.

To not owing my soul to student debt collectors
, she toasted to herself.
No, that won’t work
. She considered the question and her own personal answer. “To unexplored opportunities,” she said after a moment.

The twelfth man’s left eyebrow picked up ever so slightly in time with the smallest of smiles across his lips. “To unexplored opportunities,” he repeated, clinking his glass against hers before taking the first sip.

It was a better champagne than even the best she’d ever tried. But of course a man with this kind of wealth would drink expensive champagne. Which made her wonder,
How much did you bid on me, Gentleman Twelve?

“Is this your first time?”

She nearly choked on the expensive refreshment. He was the second person in as many days to question her virginity. Was there something about her that made people think she’d never experienced sex? Something only the sexually promiscuous could see?

“Um, no?”

“I meant here,” he clarified, gesturing to the room, the presence of a conspiratorial grin on his too-handsome face.

Oh. Get it together, Natalie.
“Yes,” she answered, this time with more authority in her voice. “Sorry, I thought you meant…”

“Would you be here if the answer to the question you
thought
I’d asked was ‘yes’?”

“Probably not,” she conceded. “But it’s my understanding that there are
varied
tastes among the members of this, um, club.”
Establishment? Secret society?

“Yes, I believe you are correct.” He took his champagne glass and sat down on the couch. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured not next to him, but in front of him.

“You want me to sit on the coffee table?” she dumbly asked.

“Yes, please, Natalie.”

Not knowing what else to do, Natalie followed his direction and sat on the glass surface facing him. He unbuttoned his jacket to reveal a crisp white shirt beneath it, and relaxed into the couch cushions. One arm went over the back of the couch while the other rested on his thigh. His legs were parted so that they were outside of her own; she kept her legs clenched together at the knees.

The experience of being so close to a man so handsome was an unsettling one. It was evident to her again that in no ordinary circumstance would she ever be in the same room as him, let alone sitting so close and drinking champagne with him. What’s more, he seemed to be taking a distinct pleasure in her uneasiness. He looked relaxed as he observed her, but the same predatory intensity in his stare was present then as it was earlier, and it unhinged her. If he told her he could see right through her, she’d believe him.

“I believe you’ll be needing this,” he started, reaching into his suit jacket and sitting up so quickly she jumped. He eyed her curiously as his fingers retrieved whatever it was he had reached for so suddenly.

He handed her an envelope made of thick white cotton paper. She flipped it over and saw embossed on the other side ‘
Candidate Four’
.

Wait, what?
Hadn’t The Announcer explained that Candidates were excused from their bidders when given an envelope? Was this worse than not receiving a bid at all?

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, looking up into his blue-green eyes to find any expression that wasn’t some variation of intense or predatory, which so far seemed to be his only two modes of operation.

He looked about as confused as she did. “Do you think you did something wrong?”

“I-“ How could she possibly know? “Doesn’t this mean you’re dismissing me?”

“It means you’re free to leave whenever you want, Natalie. Or it means you can stay here with me for as long as you want. Either way it’s your choice.”

Huh. How ‘bout that,
she thought. He was giving her control. She could leave and be paid for sharing a glass of champagne, rather than waiting to find out whatever particular kink he had in store for her that evening. She could go home
not
feeling like a fancy prostitute.

Feeling empowered by her sudden freedom, Natalie leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “You don’t like to do things according to the rules, do you?”

His face seemed to relax. “What gives you that impression, Natalie?”

“You didn’t look at any of the other eleven girls. You never once made a request. And yet you were the highest bidder. And now this,” she held up the envelope, “gives me the chance to walk away with your money without having to perform any services your bid has paid for.”

He leaned forward, arms on his knees to mimic her own posture, and the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly. “What makes you think you’re not performing a service right now?”

Her stomach flipped, and concurrently her olfactory senses delighted in another dose of his delicious cologne.

“Am I?”

“Would you prefer I give you specific instructions?” It sounded like a challenge when he said it, and it excited her.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure, Natalie?” he asked, his tone indicating he placed importance on every syllable. Was she sure? He made it clear she was now free to leave whenever she wanted, to stay however long she wanted. In a way that made
her
in charge, not him. If he asked her to do something she wasn’t comfortable with she could just leave.
Right?

He must have seen the decision in her face before she could speak it out loud. His eyes still on her, he said, “Unzip your dress.”

‘I have nothing to wear,’
Natalie said in a panic before Quinn could finish saying hello.

‘Text me your address and your sizes.’
The line went dead and Natalie did as instructed, impatiently letting Quinn in to her room when she arrived fifteen minutes later, a garment bag draped over the crook of one arm, the other hand pulling a small carry-on suitcase.

Quinn unzipped the bag to reveal five cocktail dresses, each fancier than anything Natalie owned in her wardrobe.

‘These three are bandage dresses,’
Quinn explained while pointing to three colorful garments. The first was black, strapless and knee-length; the second was bright red like a lacquered lipstick and had straps and a neckline that would dip suggestively down into the bustline; and the third was strapless and an ombre of blues and greens. None of them looked like they would fit.

‘You do know we have completely different body types, right?’
Natalie eyed the dresses suspiciously, doubting they would even look good on her curvy body; much curvier than Quinn’s modelesque physique.

‘You only think you can’t wear these. Trust me, you can.’

‘Bandages are for mummies. What else is there?’

Quinn picked up the remaining two dresses, each completely different from the stretchy and wrapped confections.

‘This will really pop off your complexion,’
Quinn motioned with a more modestly cut short-sleeved sequin dress in a vibrant blue.
‘This one,’
she motioned with the last frock, a simple black dress with black lace overlay and 3/4 length sleeves,
‘will make you look absolutely divine. Of that much I am sure. And check out the back.’
She turned the garment around to reveal a zipper that ran across the entire length of the dress, right down the middle.
‘I mean I don’t want to say
easy access
, but easy access,’
she chuckled.
‘You get the right bidder and this dress will more than pay for itself. Now, how do you feel about heels?’
she asked as a pair of sky-high, red-soled shoes dangled delicately from her index finger.

Natalie leaned back and drew in a long breath, feeling her chest rise with the intake of air, and then exhaled twice as slowly, her chest receding back into her rigid posture. The twelfth man maintained his stance leaning forward, his arms propped on his knees to support the weight of his torso. The casual way he stared at her, deep blue-green eyes on her silver-blue, was deceptive. He appeared calm, but the ever-present energy within his eyes gave him away; they told of a mind in overdrive.

She still held the thick envelope in her hand, curiously wondering what dollar amount was written on her check, her form of payment for selling herself to the twelfth man for the evening.
No, not sold. Bid
. And then he gave her the freedom to leave whenever she wanted. It was a gift she doubted many others before her received, if any did at all.

Despite the voice of reason telling her to take the money and leave with her dignity in tact, there was another voice telling her to stay, to take off her dress and see where the night went. She’d never had sex with a man as beautiful as he was, and she selfishly wondered if his good looks would make a difference in the way he performed between the sheets. Would she ever have an opportunity to find out otherwise?

Natalie placed the envelope down at her side and stood in one quick succession, her full height putting her breasts just above his eye-level, and only inches away. He leaned back just far enough to look up at her face and watch her as she reached around for the top of the zipper at her neck.

“Turn around,” he instructed.

She turned so her back was facing him and reached again for the zipper, tugging it as far down as she could from over her shoulder. Her other arm curved around and up her back — a maneuver she managed with surprising grace and flexibility — and pulled the zipper down.

“Stop,” he said when she got the zipper halfway down her back, just beneath the edge of her bra. She not only heard him come to stand, she felt it; a small breeze blew at what skin was exposed at the back of her half-unzipped dress, but was quickly replaced with the warmth radiating off his body as he stood behind her. Without actually touching her skin his fingers gathered the smooth cape of her glossy, straightened hair and moved it over her shoulder so it fell to her breasts, exposing more skin to him. She shivered despite the warmth of him so close, and her flesh raised in small bumps across her neck, back and arms.

Natalie glanced over her shoulder and watched as he sat and leaned back into the couch, resuming his previous position of one arm over the back of it, the other resting on his thigh, drink in hand.

“Go on.”

Natalie slowly dragged the zipper down until it reached the base of her spine, then leaned forward to get it the rest of the way down, trying with every ounce of effort to not outright moon him as the two sides of the dress came completely undone. She mentally patted herself on the back for having the presence of mind to have put on a set of undergarments that wasn’t completely embarrassing, given her situation. The dark satin demi bra and matching hipster briefs were the closest version of sexy underwear she owned.

When he didn’t say anything further Natalie assumed he wanted her to remove the dress and began inching it forward from her arms to undress entirely.

“Leave it on,” he commanded as the fabric fell a few inches forward. Natalie hastily adjusted the dress so it covered her body as fully as possible, feeling as clumsy as she was nervous. The way the dress hung from her body reminded her oddly of a hospital gown and she fought the urge to gather the fabric in the back to cover her behind.

“Why don’t you have some more champagne?”

“Okay,” Natalie whispered, mostly to herself. She bent forward, again mindful of her rear end at the level of his eyes, and took possession of her glass of champagne, downing a long sip and emptying half the glass in the process. It tingled and bubbled on the way down her throat and a fuzzy warmth filled her head behind her cheeks.

“You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question but a declarative statement. Was she that obvious? Or were most girls in her situation as nervous as she was? Even with the knowledge that she had far more control than the others did, she was still unsure of herself, unsure of what requests he would make of her, or expectations he would have.

Natalie swallowed back another sip of champagne. “Yes, I am.”

“Go stand by the window. The view from here is stunning at nighttime.”

Oh-kay
. Champagne flute in one hand, her free hand across her chest holding her dress to her body, Natalie turned and walked towards the ceiling-to-floor-length windows and looked out at the cityscape once again. The twinkling lights were like bright jewels floating in a black sea, or stars piercing the night sky.

She heard the rustling of fabric and adjusted her view on the glass wall until the city blurred out of focus and she could instead see the twelfth man approaching her from behind. She watched him, feeling it was relatively safer than staring at him dead-on. The fabric of his pants hugged the musculature they contained as each leg stepped forward. He was remarkably fit, and absentmindedly she wondered what he looked like beneath the layers of suiting. She couldn’t help the flush that burned her cheeks when she realized she
would be
finding out. And soon.

The twelfth man radiated warmth as he stopped behind her, his head leaning in just at her shoulder to look out at the night sky before them.

“Breathe, Natalie,” he whispered close to her ear from behind.

She nodded but somehow refused to exhale the breath she’d been holding in since he told her to walk to the window. His right arm snaked around her half-exposed torso beneath the dress and she gasped in near silence when his palm touched her stomach just beneath her bra-covered breasts. With gentle force he pulled her back towards his own body, the held breath escaping her finally as her back and shoulders made contact.

His fingers splayed out across her skin as she inhaled and exhaled again, coaxing her into a regular breathing rhythm.

“It’s going to be a very long evening if you have to tell me to breathe every few seconds,” she laughed, mostly at herself. She saw him smirking in his window reflection.

“So you
do
plan on staying the night?”

“I-“ she began, not really knowing how to respond. “I just mean that I’m perfectly able to perform the basic function of breathing without assistance.”

“Then I’ll only remind you when you forget to do it yourself,” he breathed next to her ear, his voice low and soft against her senses. His fingers moved gently, making a soft pattern of circles across her skin that made the rest of her body alert with attention. She moaned softly as her head fell back a half inch towards him. “Good girl.”

The unexpected movement of his lips at her ear made her hyperaware, and in her surprise she let go of the half-full champagne flute, glass and golden liquid coming to a crash just next to her Louboutined feet.

“
Shit
,” she exclaimed, mostly to herself.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her as his other hand found its way to her hip beneath the dress. She forgot the glass instantly. “I like this.” His hand moved from her hip to her bellybutton and back again while the first hand remained just above where her lungs lived in her body, his arms around her in the most sensual version of a hug she’d ever had in her life.

“Like what?” she asked, her eyes fluttering open and shut as her skin responded beneath the warmth of his exploring touch.

“I like that you’re so soft here. I love to feel skin, not bones. This,” he said as his fingers pressed and deepened into her pillowy flesh, “is much sexier.”

What little champagne she’d consumed had filled her head with such fuzzy goodness that she could let herself believe his words, however they might have ordinarily made her squirm. She closed her eyes and sighed as his hands came together on either side of her stomach and slid up her torso, his thumbs brushing just at the underside of her breasts. His hands rested there, fingers continuing in soft circles, as his nose skimmed over her from earlobe to neck and across her shoulder, taking in her scent.

“Oh, Natalie. Sweet, innocent Natalie,” he breathed, his hands coming away from her body and coming to a close around the two sides of the dress, pulling them together to more modestly cover her back.

She opened her eyes and turned her head to look back at him, afraid of what she might see if she did.

“I don’t think you fully appreciate what you’ve gotten yourself into.” His hands gripped her shoulders and he turned her around in his embrace, her back to the window and only inches away from him. “Maybe you should go.”