The Auction by Tiffany Reisz

7

The night was long and lonely, but Daniel survived it. He woke up in the bed where he and Eleanor had made love. He searched out her scent on the sheets but couldn’t find it. She hadn’t been there long enough to leave any trace. It was as if she’d never been there at all.

He felt okay though. Not great but okay. Was that a sign that he hadn’t really been in love with her? It dawned on him that morning he might have been in love with his dream of her and losing her hurt as much as waking up from a dream.

Maybe. Maybe not. But he was wide awake now.

He got up, got dressed, had enough breakfast for two men. Then he hailed a cab and headed to Kingsley’s. Why? He didn’t expect Eleanor to be there. He wasn’t going to see her, just to tell Kingsley it was over, for good. If only to hear himself say it out loud, to make it official. Daniel had been wrong, Kingsley right. His integrity demanded he admit it. And it wouldn’t hurt to do a little commiserating, too. Nobody commiserated better than Kingsley Edge.

Daniel arrived around mid-morning and rang the bell at the front door. No answer. Very likely Kingsley was still asleep. The man was either fearless or liked to pretend he was, so Daniel wasn’t surprised to find the door was unlocked. He stepped inside the entryway and looked around. Usually the place was packed but then again, usually Daniel visited in the afternoon or evening. The house was eerily empty, eerily quiet and he wondered if this is what it was like every morning when the deviants of Manhattan were still sleeping it off.

In the quiet, he heard the soft rumble of a man’s voice coming from the music room. Daniel would have ignored it—probably just one of Kingsley’s friends taking a call in there—except he heard another voice replying. A woman’s voice. He would have minded his own business except he recognized her soft accent—it was Anya.

Daniel went to the music room and stopped at the threshold. He stood just outside the door and eavesdropped.

“Has Edge set a reserve?” a male voice inquired. Daniel didn’t need to see the man to know he was older—fifties or sixties. He could tell from the timbre of his voice, the supreme self-confidence possessed only by wealthy middle-aged white men. God, Daniel hoped he never sounded like that.

“No, sir,” Anya replied. She sounded meek which surprised him. He hadn’t thought she had a meek bone in her body. “I think I heard the bell. I need to—”

“They can wait. If you’d rather not bother with the auction, we can settle things now,” the man continued. “We’d have to have an exam, of course.”

“An exam?” Her voice shook and Daniel realized she wasn’t being meek at all. Rather, she was scared.

“I wouldn’t buy a car without having someone check under the hood first, of course.” The man chuckled. Daniel had heard enough. He pushed the door open and Anya turned and looked at him, first in surprise and then with obvious relief. She stood with her back to the fireplace, all the way back against it as if she’d been pushed there. The man—yes, white, middle-aged, bloated and pompous, wearing an expensive suit—had trapped her there. As Daniel burst into the room, the man dropped his hand from Anya’s reddened face. She looked like she was about to start crying.

“Anya? You all right?” Daniel asked.

“Excuse me, but who are you?” the man demanded. He stood up straight, arms behind his back like some sort of parody of a military commander.

“I’m Daniel. Anya’s helping me with a suit. We had an appointment.”

“Yes,” she said quickly, “we did. I’m sorry, I forgot. Mr. Harpring stopped by and I…I lost track of time.”

“It’s fine,” Daniel said. “I’m early. Should we go?” He held out his arm and waved as if beckoning a scared child or animal to his side. Without hesitation, she walked to him, almost running. She didn’t take his hand or his arm but she did something better—she stood behind his shoulder, as if trusting him to protect her. Like a shield.

“I’m happy to let Anya go with you but we hadn’t quite finished our conversation yet,” the man, Mr. Harpring said. “Could you give us a few minutes? Please?” He said “please” as if it were a joke, as if men like him didn’t say “please” unless they were in a mood to be funny.

“I believe Anya was finished with the conversation. Weren’t you?” He glanced over his shoulder. She nodded. Her face was still bright red. “She says you’re done. Ready?”

He addressed the question to Anya.

“Ready,” she said. “My tape measure is upstairs.”

“Anya, I think your friend can wait,” Mr. Harpring said. “Can’t you…who are you anyway?”

Daniel wished now he was wearing a suit, not jeans and a t-shirt. In a suit, he would have put this pompous prick to shame.

“No one you want to know,” Daniel said. “But don’t I know you? Ron Harpring? Of Harpring, Harrison, and Jones? The law firm in Midtown?”

The man said nothing.

“My wife was an attorney,” Daniel said. “Maggie Caldwell. You know that name?”

Mr. Harpring didn’t answer but his eyes had widened slightly in recognition. Corporate law in Manhattan was a very small fishbowl full of sharks.

“Being married to an attorney,” Daniel said, “I know as many lawyers as I do actual people. Do I need to remind you that you could be disbarred for solicitation, which—last time I checked—was illegal in this state?”

“There’s no crime in bidding on a prize in a charity auction for a good cause.”

Daniel doubted the man even knew what “good cause” the money was going to. “Didn’t I hear you say you wanted Anya to undergo a medical exam to make sure she’s virginal enough for you?”

Mr. Harpring raised his hands in surrender—mock surrender. “A man is allowed to flirt with a pretty girl. And joke around, like I did. But since you’re busy, Miss Anya, I’ll go. See you the night of the auction. Wear pink, if you don’t mind. I love pink.”

He winked and left the music room. Obviously this wasn’t his first time at Kingsley’s—he left by the alley door, the private door.

When he was gone, Anya exhaled heavily and sat down hard onto the sofa’s black leather ottoman.

“Now you see why I was trying to talk you out of this? You really want a sleaze like that to be your first time? Did you finally come to your senses or are you still planning on going through with this idiotic auction?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. Wide and wounded. Immediately he hated himself for going on the attack with her. She wore a white sundress and a white lace headband that made her look like a half-grown child, ready for a picnic in the park.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just…I hate men like that.”

She blinked away tears. “So do I.” Her voice shook. Daniel realized he was looming over her. He went down on his knees in front of her. He put his hand by her leg—by it, but not touching it. Just a hand that she could take if she wanted.

“Hey, he’s gone now.”

“Now,” she said and shrugged. “He wanted to see if there was a reserve price on me. Or if I’d be interested in a…” She made a disgusted face. “A pre-sale.”

“He wanted to scare you,” Daniel said softly, very softly. “I know the type. He gets off on it.”

She looked at the floor.

“I’ll talk to King. I’ll make sure he’s not at the auction,” Daniel said.

She met his eyes. “I can tell him. I don’t need you to do it for me.”

Exhaling, he stood up. “All right. I get it. You don’t want my help. You’re an adult. I’ll leave you alone.”

Though he hated walking away from her, sitting there still shaking, he did. He started for the door, not as a bluff but because she was right. She could tell Kingsley herself what had happened. She didn’t need him—clearly didn’t want him, either. She was an adult.

He reached the door but stopped when she spoke two words in a small voice.

“Thank you.”

What was this? A crack in the ice? A thaw? Or just politeness?

“You’re welcome,” he said, then started to leave again.

“I do need to measure you again,” she said. “For your suit. The jacket is pieced together at Signore’s.”

“I’ll call and make an appointment.” He wanted to say more, do more. He didn’t want to push, however, and have her push him away again. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you need a cab? Ride home? I can have King’s driver take you to work if you’re going in today.”

“I’m on front door duty here,” she said. “This is my other job.”

“How many jobs do you have?”

“Not enough.” She gave him a slight smile.

“I suppose if I offered to give you some money you’d hate me, right? Hypothetically?”

She nodded, though the smile remained on her lips.

“Stubborn women. What is it with me and stubborn women?” he said.

“What is it with you and stubborn women?” Anya asked.

“I like them. Against my better judgment.”

That got a little laugh out of her. “I’m not stubborn. There’s a difference between stubborn and, you know…determined.”

“And that is?”

“I don’t know but there has to be a difference, yes? Why would they be two different words if there wasn’t?”

“Good point.” He turned again, looked at the door, knew he should go out it.

He didn’t.

“It’s only this…I know a lot of kinky guys,” Daniel said. “And some are great and some aren’t. You don’t get to pick your winning bidder.”

“I know.”

“And I’m no sub but I know it’s a lot of work, a lot of trust putting yourself into someone else’s hands and if you don’t know that person and you’ve never done it before—”

“I’ve done it before.”

Daniel looked at her, shocked. “You’ve done it before? Kink? I thought—”

“I didn’t have sex with him. I just did, you know… I submitted to him.”

A smile of pride played across her sweet pink lips. She blushed lightly. His body temperature went up a degree or two. Or ten.

“Monsieur,” she whispered. “Just once.”

Kingsley. That lucky French bastard.

“What did he do to you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. He didn’t even touch me.”

“He doesn’t have to touch you to dominate you. Anya,” Daniel said again, this time in his sternest voice. “What did he do to you? Tell me.”

Her face turned scarlet at what must have been a potent memory. Daniel’s pulse raced and his groin tightened at the thoughts running through his head, the various scenarios. He could easily think of ten or twelve things he’d love to make Anya submit to–acts that would leave her a virgin but certainly a great deal less innocent.

“He…watched me.”

Daniel’s head swam at the image those three words conjured. The first time he saw Anya in her little sailor dress…those high heels with her lacy bobby socks… He could just see her reaching under her dress and pulling her panties down and off. Knowing Kingsley, he would have made her give them to him. Kingsley would have ordered her to lay down on the bed or on one of his fainting couches. He would have stood over her and watched as she pulled her dress up to her hips, opened her legs, and began touching herself.

“Kingsley ordered you to masturbate for him. And you did it?”

“Oui.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. But he heard it.

“You enjoyed submitting to him, to that?”

“It was…it was everything I wanted it to be. Except, you know, maybe not with him. But I know I’ll be fine when the time comes.”

“You think you’ll be fine letting a total stranger order you around, beat you, and fuck you? He could be a sadist, a blood-play fetishist. He could be into rape-play or breath-play. Or worse he could be as ugly and Canadian as I am.”

Anya laughed nervously. “I’ll survive one night.”

“Do you really want to be in this auction? Really?”

She was silent a moment, then said, “No. But I need to be in it.”

“You don’t need—How about a loan? You can pay me back whenever—ten years, twenty years—”

“Daniel, no.” She shook her head. Slowly she stood up from the ottoman and stood by the cold empty fireplace. “I know you think you’re trying to help me.”

“I am. I just want to help you. Nothing else.”

“It is…very nice of you.”

Daniel nearly laughed at how long she paused before forcing the word “nice” out.

“But?”

“But I’ve made up my mind. One night with one man and me and my brothers and sisters will all be free. I’ll be able to go home and buy a little house and they can all come live with me. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it, and I won’t regret it.”

Free, she said. He understood though he wished he didn’t. She wanted to be free. If she took the money from him, she’d be beholden to him.

“It’s not the same, just being watched while you make yourself come and actually really doing kink with somebody. It’s night and day. It’ll be someone else touching you and you might not like how they—”

“Stop. Please.”

The “please” was soft. He was scaring her. She ought to be scared, he thought. But still…he didn’t want to scare her. So he stopped.

“I’ll only say one more thing—whatever price anyone pays for it, for you, it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Ah, true,” she said with a smile. “But it would be better than nothing.”

He’d tried. There was nothing else to do.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“You will?”

“At Vitale’s?”

She smiled nervously. “Right. Yes. See you then.”

For the third time, he turned to leave. The door was right there, just a few steps away. He’d almost made it when Anya spoke again, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Maybe you can help me?”

He looked at her, her back still to the white fireplace mantel. Her face was pink again.

“You said it’s different, really doing kink with someone? Maybe, you know…we could practice?”

Daniel blinked once.

“Yes,” he said. “I could help you with that.”

He locked the door.

* * *

Anya’s eyes widened.Her amber eyes. Daniel knew all about amber, fossilized tree resin. A famous geologist had left his life’s work to the New York Public Library and it had been Daniel’s job to catalog every page, every piece, including a large chunk of bright clear amber that held inside it a million-year-old butterfly. He’d wanted to free it. Like now. Like he wanted to free Anya, to melt the amber she was trapped inside and watch the beautiful little prisoner spread her wings and fly.

First he would need heat.

Daniel walked over to Anya who backed up so far against the fireplace she almost stepped into the grate. Only an inch separated their bodies.

“Now?” Anya asked, breathless.

“Now. See? You agree to submit to me, and you give up your power. I say when, not you. You like it? You can tell me no.”

“So far it’s not so bad.” Her voice shook.

Not so bad? It was a start.

Daniel felt the enormous weight of responsibility settle onto his shoulders. But—according to Anya—he had broad shoulders. He hoped they were broad enough to carry her over this threshold and not let her fall.

“You have a safe word?”

“It’s um…Leonard.”

He almost laughed. “Leonard?”

“It’s my cat’s name. I found him in an alley on an old blue coat someone had thrown away.”

“Ah. Leonard Cohen.” He knew the song well, “Famous Blue Raincoat.” Leonard Cohen was one of Canada’s most famous exports. Leonard Cohen. Maple syrup. Hockey.

“My mother sang his songs all the time. To us. To herself. To nobody. Now I sing his songs to Leonard. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

She was nervous, talking to cover it. He wanted her to keep talking, to tell him all her secrets. He wanted to know everything there was to know about this lovely lonely girl who sang “Famous Blue Raincoat” to the alley cat she’d rescued.

“You’re allowed to talk,” he said. “Until I say you can’t. How does that make you feel?”

He moved closer so that their bodies touched. Her cheek brushed his shoulder. His hips brushed her stomach.

“Scared?”

“Good. Fear can your save your life.”

“I feel safe, too. I don’t know how that can work. Doesn’t make sense, but it’s true.” She met his eyes, briefly, then looked down to the floor.

“Because you are safe.” He put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “For now.”

A shiver passed through her. Daniel saw it, felt it, relished it. He raised his hand to her face and brushed her cheek. It was burning hot.

“What do you fantasize about when you make yourself come?”

Anya laughed—loud and sudden. A shocked laugh that she tried to cover with a nervous giggle.

“What?”

“You heard me.” No mercy. No quarter. If she wanted to go through with this stupid auction, he would make certain she knew what she was getting herself into.

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. This is submission, Anya. I’m in charge. You put me in charge. I ask the questions. You answer them. I give the orders. You take them. I spank and you are spanked. I flog and you are flogged. I whip and you are whipped. I bite and you are bitten. I kiss and you open your mouth and let me kiss you until you’ve forgotten how to do anything but everything I want you to do.”

He put his lips to her cheek at her ear, then kissed, but only there, on her cheek.

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked. “Really kiss me?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“I want you to.”

“I don’t care.”

She exhaled loudly.

He could barely stop himself from laughing. “Why should I kiss you? You haven’t earned it yet.”

She leaned a little closer to him. Any closer and she’d be standing on his toes. “How do I earn it?”

“Call me ‘sir’ for starters.” He placed his hands on her hips, around her narrow waist. The muscles of her stomach tightened when he touched her. He could feel her every breath.

“Sir,” she said. “There?”

“Better. Not good enough, but an improvement.”

She made that sound of purest frustration again. Delicious.

“Are we having fun yet?” he taunted.

“You make me so mad.”

“Then I’m doing it right. And you forgot to call me ‘sir.’ And you still haven’t answered my question. You have five seconds to do both, or I’ll do something cruel and terrible to you.”

“What?”

“I’ll leave without kissing you. Four…three…two—”

“You, sir.”

He pulled back and looked down at her face. She met his eyes very briefly before lowering them.

“You think about me when you come?” He couldn’t have come up with a better answer himself.

“Last night. Sir.”

“What was I doing to you?”

Her pink cheeks turned crimson. “You were, ah…flogging me and I was tied up and then we, you know.”

“Made love?”

She was shivering in his arms. He held her closer, tighter. He was hard and hungry for her but knew he had to hold back.

“Yes,” she finally said. “Sir.”

“Good. Now you’ve earned your kiss.”

She raised her face to his and he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was soft at first, as he explored her top lip, then the bottom. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. Poor little girl. She had no idea how much he could make her feel if she would only let him.

He forced her mouth wider and slipped his tongue inside her. She moaned and he made it worse by sliding his hand down her back and then up again, under the skirt of her sundress. He cupped her bottom, slipping his fingers under her panties to stroke one soft, warm cheek. He wanted to hold her pussy in his hands, cradle it, stroke it until she was begging for him to be inside her. Whether she realized it or not, she was pushing her hips into his. If that’s what she wanted, he would give it to her.

Daniel wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the floor, settling her against his hips and pinning her back to the mantel. She gasped against his mouth but didn’t break the kiss. He pushed his hips into hers and she pushed back. If they’d been naked, they’d be fucking. Instead they worked against each other through their clothes. His cock was hard and her panties were flimsy. He knew she could feel his erection. He could feel the heat of her pussy against him. He worked his hips harder into her soft mound as he deepened the kiss. Deeper. Harder. Faster. He wanted to overwhelm her with sensation, need.

He carried her to the sofa, pushed her onto her back and laid on top of her, only breaking the kiss long enough to make her want it again. He found her mouth, her tongue…he rubbed his erection against her softness. She opened her legs wider. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt and dug in. So close…almost there. Her breathing was hard and heavy.

Someone knocked on the door.

Anya gasped and looked at the door. Daniel sat up. Before he could say a word, she scrambled out from under him and ran to the door.

She opened it and there stood Kingsley in the doorway, looking rakishly disheveled, like a pirate who’d spent the night with a duke and stolen his clothes the next morning. Shirt unbuttoned to the collarbone, hair down, bare feet.

“Hello,” he said. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Anya said quickly. Too quickly.

“Are we sure?” Kingsley looked straight at Daniel.

“Some asshole named Harpring came by,” Daniel explained. “He was harassing Anya. I locked him out.” He was doing his best to sit casually on the couch and not look like a man who’d been seconds away from coming one minute ago. He doubted Kingsley was fooled.

“Harassing you?” Kingsley scowled. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he was only being disgusting. Daniel sent him away.”

“Good,” Kingsley said. “Never liked him anyway.”

“I don’t want him at the auction, if you don’t mind, monsieur,” she said.

“C’est la vie,” Kingsley said. “Whatever you say. There will be plenty of others.” He gave Daniel a look that was almost a wink.

“He might come back.”

“Anya, you can go up to my office and work on the files instead. If anyone comes to the door, we’ll just ignore them today.”

Anya nodded and started to leave. When she stepped into the hallway, she glanced back—not at Kingsley, but at him. Daniel smiled. She smiled in return then went quickly up the stairs. Daniel watched her until she disappeared through the door on the second floor. It was physically painful to pretend indifference, to stay there and not follow her, to kiss her again. But he didn’t want her getting in trouble with Kingsley.

“Well,” Kingsley said. “That didn’t take long.”

Daniel glared at him. “We were talking.”

“Her lips were swollen. Were you talking for ten hours?”

“I was trying to talk her out of being in your stupid auction.”

“Talk her out of it or fuck her out of it?”

Daniel smiled. “Five more minutes and I would have done it.”

“Five more seconds, I think.”

“Guess I’ll never know, thanks to you. Great timing.”

“Have you ever thought that perhaps…you should let her do what she wants? Women like that, I hear.”

“First of all, I don’t think she wants to do it. I think she thinks she needs to do it. And second, I’m not going to take relationship advice from a man who calls his girlfriends his ‘collection.’ Makes you sound like a fucking serial killer with a cellar full of bodies.”

“It’s a joke. And they’re not girlfriends. They’re simply friends I have enormous amounts of sex with.” He shrugged. “Enough about me. Our mutual friend told me Elle paid you a visit.”

“She did.” Daniel stood up. His erection was long gone by now, thanks to Kingsley. If it wasn’t, mention of Elle would have dealt the death blow.

“And?”

“She dumped me. Again.”

“Not surprised but, for what it’s worth, you have my sympathy. She is very special. You know, the way volcanoes are very special.”

“Volcanoes?”

“They’re beautiful, you don’t run across them often, and you’re always happy to get away from one with your life.”

Daniel laughed. He hadn’t thought he could laugh over losing Elle but he already was, one day later.

“Well, I’m alive,” Daniel said. “It’s over. You can tell our ‘mutual friend’ I won’t try stealing his girlfriend ever again.”

“He’ll be glad to hear that. I’m certain he was shaking in his shoes.”

“It’s not my fault she has bad taste in men.”

Kingsley laughed softly. “I’ll tell him you said that, too. He’ll be very hurt. He might even cry.”

Daniel met him at the door. “Has anyone ever told you that sarcasm isn’t sexy?”

“When you’re sexy, everything you say is sexy.”

“Say ‘Massachusetts,’” Daniel said. “I dare you.”

Maggie had told Daniel long ago that Kingsley’s English was perfect, except for his one Achilles heel—Massachusetts.

“Can’t do it, can you?”

“I live in New York for a reason.” Then he cleared his throat. “Mass-a-shoo—”

“I knew it.”

“Now I know why Anya hates you so much.”

“One of many reasons. You’ll keep on eye her, right?”

“You care about her, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t save Maggie. Eleanor didn’t want saved. Do I get to help one beautiful girl in my life? Just one? Too much to ask?”

Kingsley glanced up and Daniel followed his gaze. Anya was peeking over the staircase bannister down at them, eavesdropping. He didn’t mind. He’d been eavesdropping on her earlier. When they caught her looking, she straightened up.

“I have a question about the files,” she said to Kingsley.

A smile spread across Kingsley’s face. “I’ll be right up.” She disappeared. Kingsley met Daniel’s eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Not as far as I could throw ten of you to Massachusetts.”

“Ah, fair. But I’m going to help you anyway.”

Kingsley patted his shoulder and sauntered toward the stairs. As he walked away, Daniel issued a plea.

“Please don’t.”