Show & Sell Read Online Abby Angel

Categories Genre: BDSM, Erotic Tags Authors: Abby Angel Advertisement1

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I take my drink and put a twenty on the waitress’ tray. The poor girl smiles at me—like I’d be interested in someone like her. Maybe for a blowjob, but I don’t slum.

Unlike my brothers, I’m a voyeur. Scanning the room, I notice Finn and Jasper speaking to an older male at the bar. They look as disgusted as I am, but they’ll do well here.

We all have the same taste in women, but the difference is I would rather go home alone than settle down.

I check my Rolex. There’s fifteen minutes before the women are brought on stage and sold to the highest bidder. It sounds like something that happens only in third-world countries.

Not in America.

Anyone who thinks that human trafficking isn’t a big business is sadly mistaken. The difference is these women choose to be here. No one forced them.

The closer the time gets to the auction, the more the place fills up with men ready to spend money. I’ve been here a few times in the past, but I was never that interested.

“About fucking time you got here,” Finn says.

I laugh, swallowing the rest of my scotch.

“Yeah, like a Grayson needs to pay for pussy. I’m here to watch you two fight for the same chick,” I say, bitter laughter behind my words.

I join my two brothers, making sure to grab the mask from my seat. These little games are so secure that the bidders don’t show their faces. There’s no need.

You’re not here unless you can afford to be.

The mask is dark, and I feel like the damn the Phantom of the Opera. I slip it on, smirking. There’s something sinister about playing another character.

Suddenly I’m invisible, another face in a sea of masked men and some women. The entire thing is elaborately conducted. And I can appreciate at least that, being a man who understands the aesthetic value in any situation. This place has some mystery and intrigue going on that’s befitting to a room filled with this many important people. In fact, I think I saw a senator or two in the crowd on my way in.

I take a seat next to my brother Finn who says, “You’re late.”

“So what? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“We’re supposed to put on a united front,” he says.

The lights dim suddenly, a signal that the show’s about to start.

The object of the game is to bid on virgins—who doesn’t want to be a groundbreaker at least once in their life?

The auctioneer comes out dressed in a suit that does justice to the high-profile people here. He at least looks the part.

“Gentlemen, are you ready to bid on the hottest women this side of hell? Loosen up your wallets and get ready to fall in love,” the auctioneer says.

I’m already bored. This idiot can’t be for real. Who the fuck said anything about love?

This is a pussy march, not a date with Cupid.

“What the fuck is this bullshit? Are you serious right now?” I whisper to my brothers.

Both throw me an annoyed glance.

I rub the subtle scruff on my chin as I look at the girls on stage.

This place is a joke. What the fuck’s so special about virgins anyway?

“Gentlemen, first out is Melanie. She is nineteen years old and has been saving herself for marriage. Luckily for you, she’s decided to give up the fairytale to one of you fine men,” the auctioneer says.

“We have better girls than this at my agency,” I quip, my humor dry as usual.

Finn elbows me in the side. He seems to be holding back laughter.

“Stop being a fucking dick all the time, Declan. Not everyone can be a model. Look, she’s trying to dance at least,” Finn says.

“She looks like she took dance lessons from the 80s,” Jasper adds.

One of us is bad enough, but when you put the three of us in the same room, our combined attitudes can be explosive.

The girl on stage dances about three steps before the old geezer behind us offers up twenty-five grand for her. Another offers twenty-six, and that’s where it ends.

I wouldn’t give a penny, but my taste is selective.

“Next time, don’t ask me to come to this shit. You two can come alone,” I growl, clearly annoyed with the proceedings.

I snap my fingers to call over the waitress. I order another scotch on the rocks and exchange a meaningful glance with her. She might be good enough to fuck later, and she certainly wants it.

Then, my eyes are back on the stage.

A young brunette shakes her ass in front of the crowd. She’s inexperienced and scared.

I wonder if she even wants to be up there, or is the lure of money too much for her?

“Fifteen grand,” a voice yells out.

“Twenty-one thousand,” another adds.

The higher the bids go, the more she dances.

“I hope she uses some of that money for dancing lessons,” I add.


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