Hard Bargain: A Virgin Auction Romance Read online

  Hard Bargain

  A Virgin Auction Romance

  Haley Pierce

  Copyright © 2017 by Haley Pierce

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  1

  Nicole closed her eyes and counted to ten, her fingers wrapped around the base of the plastic chair. Around her, the town fair hummed. It was late July, early August, and the Texas village was sticky, humid—making sweat beads swell up on her arms and glide from her collarbone to her chest. Her breasts bounced softly in the summer dress she donned—something skimpy and so-unlike-her, borrowed from the dark cave-like closet of her best friend Chrissy. Admittedly, Chrissy had always been a bit more daring in her sexuality.

  “Make sure you tuck those boobs in tight,” Chrissy had told her, her cackle gliding into the evening air. “You don’t want the town folk to think their pastor’s daughter is a slut.”

  Nicole had grinned broadly, knowing, in fact, that this was precisely what she wanted. Any other year, any other time, she’d have donned a simple pair of longer shorts, a collared shirt. She’d never been one for show, always ensuring that she supported Pastor Michael, her father’s mission to be a moral superior to the rest of the town. But it was different, now. Everything was different.

  The dueling fiddle act on stage at the fair scuttled to a halt, then. The men in cowboy hats and traditional boots rolled into a bow and the town fair erupted into applause. They gave each other a quick wink before trudging off the stage, their spurs spinning. It was nearly time for Nicole.

  As the applause filtered off, the town’s people turned bright eyes toward her, toward their Nicole, expectantly. She heard light whispering in the back. She knew they had noticed her dress, her breasts, her body. She’d grown up here; they’d seen her as a child, as a dutiful student of God’s word. There weren’t many children in the audience she hadn’t babysat for. There weren’t many old people she hadn’t sat with in the hospital, reading from the Holy Book. And yet: here she was, about to stomp all over their high opinion and love for her.

  She found the strength to step toward the stage, then. She heard light jangling of keys. People jittered, tittered. She snuck a hand to her breast, ensuring it was still tucked into place. She stuck her mouth to the microphone, clearing her throat.

  “Hello, everyone,” she began. Her voice was strong, without hesitation. She was grateful for that.

  “I know you probably think I’m up here to ask for donations for my daddy’s church. It’s what I do every single year, as you know. And I know several of you are holding back your pocket books this year due to—erm—circumstances and newly found opinions about my daddy. They’re not unfounded.” A few of the members of the crowd smiled at her, then. They knew that this year had been a painful one for her. They knew that their gossiping, their sure-fire destruction of her and her daddy’s good reputation had nearly made her go crazy.

  Nicole swallowed. She cleared her throat. “However, due to these aforementioned circumstances, I’d like to offer up something else this year. You all know that I’ve been incredibly committed to a sense of morality. Many of you will remember when I dumped my high school boyfriend because he wanted to have sex and I wasn’t ready. Many of you will remember that I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 20 years old. I know you all know this. We live in a small town, after all. It’s not like anything is kept a secret.”

  A few of the old women in the crowd looked down at their wrinkled hands, nervous. Where was she going with this? they seemed to ask themselves.

  “But anyway. This year is different. Because any sense of family morality is out the window, as you know, I’ve decided to auction off my virginity.”

  Nicole allowed the words to flitter through the crowd. Someone in the back audibly gasped. Nicole switched her weight from the right to the left foot, wishing she hadn’t worn these tired, high heels. How did Chrissy handle the pain?

  “Please go to my website, Nicolesvirginity.com, to offer a bid. My virginity will go to the highest bidder. Thank you.” She bowed her head and spun her body right, toward the steps. She teetered toward the ground, feeling sheer, dead silence around her. She felt like the town fair tent was going to swallow her whole.

  In the corner, she saw Chrissy bouncing up and down, clapping silently. She gave her a thumbs-up. But Nicole didn’t feel like herself. She swept from the town fair tent, into the jolting, hot sun, and felt as if she would throw up.

  She placed her hands on her knees, heaving. She felt her breasts nearly spilling from the steamy, red dress. Her virginity had been her prize. She’d longed to give it to the person she loved the most, on her wedding day. She’d longed to follow the word of God to a T. But all of that had changed the moment she’d learned, in a fit of panic after the death of her mother, that her father had been cheating on her mother the entire time. Every evening, as Nicole had tucked her mother into the sterile, white hospital bed and kissed her tired, crackled head, her father had snuck off to the organist Gwen’s tiny, crooked apartment on the west side and slept with her deep into the night. Every night, as Nicole had prayed over her dying mother, her father had destroyed her very sense of the world.

  And now: Nicole was rebelling. Her father, Mike, didn’t deserve her love or anyone else’s. She would destroy any sense of morality he’d attempted to instill in her. And, when one of the crooked men of the town bid for the last moments of her virginity, she would take the money and run as far away from that town as possible. She’d find herself on the west coast, ready to start over. Maybe she could even go to college. And she could forget about the terror of the previous year once and for all.

  At least, that was the dream. Because she was so upset, in that moment, Nicole longed to drop onto her knees and pray to her God, just as her mother and father had taught her as a young girl.

  She remembered what her mother had told her, even at the very end, as she’d been wasting away in that hospital bed: “Prayer is the only thing we need. It gives you all the strength and love in the world.”

  But Nicole no longer believed that. Not really. Despite all the praying she’d done, despite all the nights she’d stayed up deep into the morning, worrying, her mother had still ultimately been buried in the southern cemetery; Nicole had still had to clean out her mother’s office, had had to organize her mother’s book collection, had had to create a kind of other consciousness within herself, in order to keep her sanity.

  Her best friend, Chrissy, suddenly appeared before her, her face brimming with clown makeup. She wrapped her arms around her friend. Nicole remembered that they’d met in Sunday School class, that they’d journeyed to church camp together ad discussed the word of God over steaming cups of tea. But Chrissy had evolved into a stunning woman, one who sought pleasure and fantasy, rather than the Biblical word. And now: Nicole would follow her lead.

  “Did I do all right?” Nicole whispered, blinking back tears. Her best friend’s face gave her warmth, comfort, yet panic still riddled her to the bone.

  “You did spectacularly,” Chrissy affirme
d, her voice dancing. “I think you might have killed some of the old ladies with shock, but honestly, we needed to reduce the population in this town, anyway. Too many people from high school have started to have babies. If we’re going to remain a small town, we have to have a little give and take.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes, feeling a grin slide over her face. “It’s just that I always wanted to give my virginity to the person I loved, on my wedding night.” She sniffed, sensing she was going over the same old routine with Chrissy. To her credit, Chrissy always listened with concentrated interest; she never scolded Nicole or informed her that her opinions were dull or old-fashioned.

  “I think once you actually have sex for the first time, you won’t feel so poorly about it,” Chrissy said, her voice soft, tentative. “In fact, I know so. Sex is natural. You should have been having it this entire time. You’re in the prime of your life.”

  “We’re never going to look this good, right?” Nicole teased, diving into a small giggle. “Okay. I’ll try to get my mind around this new reality. And—in the meantime, perhaps, I should run out of here before they start a lynch mob.”

  “The wives will lynch you while their husbands bid,” Chrissy said, taking Nicole’s arm. “I’ll drive you back. I didn’t want to stay, anyway.”

  “I thought you were going to try to sleep with the cotton candy guy?” Nicole said, eyeing her. The man had been flirting with Chrissy the entire day. And yet: Chrissy was hung up on her ex-boyfriend, who she’d just dumped the week previous. Nicole could sense a dark hurt within her best friend. But she didn’t want to pry.

  “A bit too sweet for me,” Chrissy said.

  “Oh. That was a terrible joke,” Nicole whispered, covering her mouth with her free hand. “All right. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough Texas small-town fair for one day. Maybe for my entire life.”

  Chrissy and Nicole rushed toward Chrissy’s pickup truck, their skirts twirling. Nicole nearly lost her breasts again several times, but she ensured that she tucked them in, slipping her fingers over her nipples. She grinned toward her best friend as they clipped into the truck, her eyes filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement. “You really think this is going to work? I’ll make enough money to bust out of here?”

  “Darling. I think you’ll make enough money to bust us both out of here. And if I’m wrong, then I’ll buy you the rest of your drinks for the year. Now that you’re into that.”

  Nicole sighed. She’d been following Chrissy to the bar nearly every weekend since the incident with her father and Gwen had gurgled up to the public surface. Generally, she hid in the corner, shielding her face from the men who scuffed in with their cowboy boots, their swinging accents. She was self-medicating, assessing her options. She was creating a plan of escape.

  “I promise I’ll get my shit together soon,” Nicole whispered, leaning her head against the car seat rest. The truck revved beneath her, and she crossed her legs, her mind drifting to sex. She’d long imagined it as this dark, scary affair, a time when she allowed a man to destroy her. She hadn’t linked pleasure with sexuality, not since she’d been informed about it in Sunday School. But, according to Chrissy, nothing more pleasurable existed in the world. “We were literally made for it,” Chrissy had told her, in no uncertain terms. “Auction yourself. Experience the world. You owe nothing to your father, any longer, and therefore: you owe it to yourself to explore.”

  The truck rushed toward Chrissy’s tiny house just west of the single street the locals called “downtown.” It was nearly a mile from the house in which Nicole had grown up with her mother and father. The house in which she’d brimmed with the kind of warm, childhood happiness that’s bound to crumple with just an ounce of stress and weight.

  “It was all going to happen, wasn’t it?” Nicole whispered as they drove. “It was all going to crunch down around me. And I was going to be left with the ashes.”

  “Don’t say that,” Chrissy said, raising a single eyebrow. “Rumor has it, your father’s not doing so hot.”

  “Good riddance,” Nicole affirmed.

  2

  Tom Miller stood at the back of the tent at the county fair, his heart jolting as he watched that little, preacher’s daughter, Nicole, skirt toward the podium. Her breasts gleamed in the sunlight, and her eyes swept left, right, clearly showing how nervous she was. He crossed his arms, leaning heavy on his left cowboy boot. He turned a toothpick from tooth to tooth, assessing the scene. It was clear this girl, Nicole, was up to something—that she wasn’t touring her old “give my daddy some church money” routine. Rather, she flaunted that ass, those curves. And it made Tom’s brain burn with pleasure, with lust.

  It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed her before. The girl delivered his groceries to the farm once a week, on Thursdays, and he’d begun to pay her extra to put them away. The previous week, he’d sat at his kitchen table, sweat from his day on the farm pouring down his face, and he’d watched the strain of her thick, gorgeous waist as she’d stacked cans in the pantry, as she’d ensured his cereals and meats and cheeses and breads were stocked, piled high. She’d worn a traditional, near-Amish red dress, one that toured down to her ankles. But he’d still felt the presence of that grand, gleaming body. And when she’d left, he’d immediately rushed to his room to do something about it.

  It was true he’d been alone for a long time.

  At the podium, Nicole tittered words that made the crowd groan. Tom leaned closer. The boom of the microphone echoed, causing mass confusion. Several of the old women in the audience gasped, revealing great, gaping mouths. Tom whispered harshly to the farmer beside him, inquiring. “I didn’t catch that?”

  “The girl’s auctioning off her virginity,” the man spewed to him. “She’s pissed at her daddy, you know. For the infidelity. And so she’s going full whore on us. I got to say, Tom. I’m into it. I want that baby wrapped around me like a koala bear to a tree.”

  Tom’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead, forming slight crinkles. His heart burned with momentary jealousy. These people—they hadn’t lusted after Nicole once. Not like he had. And yet, she was opening her legs to them—almost literally—if only they’d pay for it. He scratched his growing beard, feeling oddly betrayed.

  Of course, even as she’d spent an hour or so every Thursday at his place, they’d hardly exchanged more than small talk. A bit of weather talk, discussions of the local teams. She was a shy girl, and, until this moment, far too pure for Tom. He could almost smell the Biblical nature of her ways. Even as she tittered words of a bidding, of auctioning off her virginity, he sensed she was uneasy—that she longed for the safety of her long, red dress and her scripture once more. But her life had been flipped upside down. And perhaps, with it, her faith had splattered all over the floor.

  Moments after Nicole swept from the stage, visibly shaken by the words she’d spewed, Tom crept his cowboy boots from the tent, his brain buzzing. The farmer he’d stood beside followed him, grunting a brief hello before sticking a cigarette between his cold, purple lips. The man was gaunt, about 10 years older than Tom and reeking of loneliness. “You gonna bid?” he asked him. His voice came in a grunt.

  “I don’t think so,” Tom affirmed, shaking his head. “Although the whole thing has me confused. She was such a pure girl.”

  “What would you do if you found out your pop was cheating on your dying mother the entire time?” the man said, swirling smoke from his mouth. “I suppose you’d take dramatic action as well. Just to prove a point.”

  “But her? I mean. Before this, had you ever even seen her upper arms before, let alone her cleavage?” Tom said. “There’s no way she’s okay with this. There’s no way she’ll just march over to the highest bidder’s house and sleep with him, without feeling complete shame.”

  “I think you’re over-thinking this,” the man told him gruffly. He stabbed his foot over his dead cigarette. “I’m going home to put 500 bucks down. You can either join in on the fun, or think all
day about what a tragedy it is that girl is losing her sense of self-worth. We all lose it, sometime. Don’t we?”

  Tom watched as the man turned from him, creeping back into the tent. His insides felt cold, lonely. He took his own turn back to his pickup truck, which was still piled high with roped-off hay. Bits of it fluttered toward his face in the slight breeze. He cut into the front of his truck, his mind still brimming with thoughts of that mysterious girl.

  Tom’s farm was about four miles from downtown. The red barn crept up over the horizon as he rushed over dirt roads, past his cow fields, his pig sties, and the large organic garden he allowed kids and mothers to come tend and take what they wanted. He was a lonely man, and that aching loneliness didn’t eat him so terribly when people joined him in the yard. He felt they were all working toward something. Perhaps a means to an end.

  His country house was built in 1911, purchased nearly five years ago, when he was just 23 years of age, and then completely torn out and refurbished. He’d longed to move his fiancé, Mandy, into the place, to watch as she churned warmth and love into the nooks and crannies. He’d imagined her painting the walls, plotting for better furniture, fighting him for more cabinet space. That way she’d cooed at him when she’d longed for something; it made his heart throttle just to remember it.

  Tom slotted his hand into the side refrigerator, which tilted at the side of the house, and tore out a Bud. He slapped himself into the teetering rocking chair on the porch, gazing out at the steaming horizon. Sweat was a constant stream from his every pore. His eyes fluttered with pleasure as he dipped his beer back, allowing the cold, aching alcohol to twirl over his tongue. With the first of it, those aching feelings of loneliness began to peter away.