“Is that all for me?” I try to sound casual, but my voice is embarrassingly thin.
She grins, plopping onto the ottoman across from me. “Every stitch, baby. It’s an auction wardrobe. The club always gives the girls the best.”
I try not to show how my stomach twists at the word “auction.”
Sophia sees it anyway, and reaches over to squeeze my hand. “You’re going to be amazing, Daisy. Every girl says she’s terrified at first, but you’ll own the room. Trust me.”
I nod, not sure I do, but I let her comfort wash over me anyway.
She rises and gestures to the rack, fingers dancing along the zipper pulls. “Should we start with the classics or the wild stuff?”
“What’s the difference?” I say.
She gives a wicked smile. “You’ll see.”
The first garment is a pale white slip, barely there, so thin the hanger cuts through the fabric. She holds it up to the light, and I can see her outline through it—every curve, every sway.
“Think you can pull it off?” she teases, handing it over.
I take the hanger, but my hands are shaking.
“I don’t even know if I should,” I say. “Isn’t the auction supposed to be, I don’t know… elegant?”
Sophia cackles. “Sweetheart, this is Sanctum. The men here want elegant, but they pay for wicked. Trust me, you’ll look like a million bucks in this.”
She keeps going. A fire-red lace bra with matching panties that tie at the sides, the kind that would disintegrate if you moved wrong. Then a black corset with mesh panels and a set of garters that look medieval. The last is a full-length gown, midnight blue with a neckline that plunges almost to the navel.
She arranges the outfits on the bed, each one more daring than the last.
I stare at them, and for a second, I see myself from the outside: a naive blonde with curves, standing barefoot in a hotel suite, about to wear clothes that were obviously made to be taken off by a man’s hands.
My skin prickles and my skin goes hot. Oh my god, Iwantthis.
Sophia seems to sense my feeling, because she grins, sitting next to me on the bed. “Listen. No one expects you to be someone you’re not. But if you want to impress, you gotta play the game a little. I know you can do it.”
I nod, biting my lip.
She touches my arm, warm and gentle. “You want to try this stuff on?”
I glance at the array of fabric, then at her, and nod again. “Sure.”
She heads to the en suite with an encouraging glance.
“Go ahead and get started. I’ll just use the ladies for a sec.” Then, Sophia disappears and I’m all alone.
I start with the slip. It slides over my head, cool as silk and barely heavier than air. I turn to the mirror. I look like a goddess of seduction—pale, nipples hard, every curve visible in the light. It’s obscene, but also kind of beautiful. I twirl, watching the hem flutter around my thighs. My ass is totally visible, and the white color makes my eyes look almost electric.
I snap a selfie for Hunter, then immediately delete it, embarrassed at my own boldness.
Next is the red lingerie set. It takes a minute to figure out how to tie the bows, and when I do, I realize the design is intentional—easy to untie, hard to resist. I stare in the mirror, cheeksburning, but there’s something in my eyes I haven’t seen before. A hunger.
Then, the corset. It takes forever to lace, and the mesh presses my tits up so high they threaten to spill out. I laugh, actually laugh, because I look like a pinup from a magazine, or maybe a very expensive doll.
Finally, the gown. I slip it on, and the fabric hugs my body, shimmering in the light. The neckline is deep, going almost to the navel, and the slit up the side almost reaches my hip. I can’t stop staring at myself.
At that moment, Sophia re-enters the living space, and then stops, hands to her mouth. “Oh my god,” she says, voice reverent. “You look unreal.”
I blush. “Is it too much?”
