I look like a slutty extra from the Wizard of Oz.
She hadn't been willing to wear the wig, but she hadn't wanted to go out with just plain old hair – this was Saint Valentine people were expecting. So Valentine had spent almost the whole day with her hair in tight rollers, then Charice had helped to unfurl them and somewhat tease them. Her thick, brunette hair normally hung to the center of her shoulder blades – now it was a riotous mass of curls that were so thick, her hair barely brushed her shoulders. She'd used a lot of bronzer, making her tan skin pop against the bright green. Dark, smoky shadow on her eyes and dark matte gloss on her lips, and she was the sexiest leprachaun she'd ever seen.
But was it sixteen thousand dollars worth of sexy? She didn't really think so.
Maybe I should've worn the wig. Or just pasties ...
“Between your tits and your reputation, I think you'll get a lot of bids,” Serge assured her. She snorted and tossed down the mirror to him.
“Does Del really give half the money to charity?” she asked, glancing down at said tits and adjusting them in her bra.
“Yup,” Serge nodded. “All to some hospital organization for kids. Guy's a softy.”
“That he is. And the whole auction thingy – we really have to do whatever the people who buy us say?” she checked.
“It's not so bad, Vally, I promise. You'll probably get a banker or something, he'll want you to wear a maid outfit and clean. Or he'll make you nanny his kids, or drive him around. Anything you don't wanna do, tell 'em to fuck off. They give you any shit, you call me, those are the rules,” he instructed. She smiled and nodded.
“Will do. You're the best, Serge.”
“Yeah, yeah, just remember that later,” he grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“What?”
But before Serge could explain, there was a sharp whistle from the other room. She glanced at the closed doors for a moment, and when she looked back down, Serge was gone. She frowned, then took a deep breath when the lights around her dimmed. Several small spot lights came on, all pointing at her on her perch. The crowd from the other room had grown quiet, and then she heard Del's voice over the microphone.
“Hell of a night, people, it's been a hell of a night! Who knew a bunch of bastards like you could raise so much money for charity? But now we've reached the end of the rainbow, and we all know what's waiting there, right?” Del sounded excited.
“A pot of gold!” the crowd shouted back.
“And Caché's very own real leprachaun!” he yelled. “Now, of course, I can't just let this magical creature go! Do you know what it takes to snag a leprachaun!? So if you want her, you gotta impress me with those bids! Ladies and gentlemen, our final auction of the evening, is none other than ...”
Valentine pasted a naughty smile on her face and pumped her legs, starting a gentle swing. When the double doors across from her slid open, large gold confetti started falling from the ceiling above her. They caught the spotlights and shined, twinkling like gold coins as they fell to the floor. She swayed to and fro, delicately swinging her legs, giving flashes of thigh as she moved back, lots of cleavage as she came forward.
The crowd surged into the room, hooting and hollering. Since she'd started at Caché, Valentine had been somewhat of an instant favorite. But in the past couple weeks, her reputation had grown in leaps and bounds, thanks to all her hard work. All the club regulars knew exactly who she was, and immediately fists full of money were held in the air, with random prices being shouted out. But Del put an end to it as he and Charice moved onto a small stage off to the side of the cage.
“I said 'impress me',” he barked. “Not act like wild fucking animals! You'll scare her away! Now – the bidding will start at ten thousand dollars. Remember, this is for charity, you bunch of bastards, and this is a real live saint, so don't insult us!”
“Who's got ten thousand dollars?” Charice boomed over her microphone, and Val's jaw almost dropped. Surely that was too high of a bid to start with, considering Angel's bids had only got up to -
“Ten!” a man shouted from the back of the crowd, holding up a green paddle with a number on it.
“Ten-five!” another yelled, waving his paddle wildly from under Val.
“Eleven,” a woman added her bid before winking at Valentine.
“I'm embarrassed at these offers! This is Saint Valentine, for fuck's sake!” Del shouted. “You all know her, you all love her, and here's your chance to get her to yourself for a week, and eleven grand is the highest we got so far!?”
“I've got more money than that under my left titty,” Charice snorted. “And here I thought we had real men and women here – I must have been mistaken.”
The bidding commenced in a frenzy, the amount quickly racking up to sixteen thousand dollars, just as Del had predicted it would, and even got as high as eighteen thousand. Valentine managed to keep her composure, laughing and smiling and flirt from her perch, all the while reminding herself that this was for charity, and for herself.
After eighteen, though, it came down to a bidding war between two clients she regularly spent a lot of time with lately. They were going in increments of a hundred dollars, and while the amount was still staggering, she couldn't help starting to feel a little embarrassed. Was it going to get down to fifty dollar increments? What next, ten, five? She swallowed a yawn and leaned far back on the swing, holding her legs straight out in front of her. She hoped one of them caved soon so she could -
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
Valentine almost fell off the swing. The last highest bid had only been nineteen thousand one hundred – someone had just blown her clients out of the water. Everyone went nuts, roaring and cheering. She sat upright, smiling big, and scanned the crowd for the new bidder. But everyone was moving, hands were in the air, she couldn't tell who had the winning the paddle.
“Finally, someone with a real set of balls!” Charice shouted, gesturing grandly across the room. “Anyone going to be man enough to challenge him?”
And then something extraordinary happened.
“Yeah,” Del piped up, and Valentine's jaw dropped when he reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like a checkbook. “Yeah, I think I'm man enough. I got twenty-one thousand right here for my little Vally-wally.”
“A first in the history of Caché!” Charice yelled, and again the crowd erupted. “Signore DelVecchio himself has the highest bid! Do we have a challenger?”
“Twenty-two thousand.”
Valentine had been too busy gawking at Del, so she once again missed who the mystery bidder was; it was too loud in there to clearly hear him. She craned her neck around to look, but Del was bidding once again.
“Yeah? Chump change. Twenty-three thousand.”
This was insanity. Was Del really trying to bid on her? She already worked for him. She stared at him in shock, but then it hit her. He wasn't trying to bid on her – he was trying to drive up the bid. But why? Twenty thousand had already been an amazing bid, the highest ever in the auction's history. Was he crazy!? He was going to scare away the bidder!
... unless this is all a ruse because he already knows the bidder will take the bait and offer more. Oh god ...