Page 12 of Auctioned to the Billionaire Bodyguard

When I applied at Groovy Gus’ Hardware, he’d taken one look at me, and pulled me to the side. “Jess, I know what’s happened to you and your mom. I hate it for y’all, I really do. But I can’t afford to pay you what you need. Probably nobody else around here can, either.” He had sighed and run a hand through his thinning hair. “I’m going to sound like a creep, but somebody’s got to say it. I know you’re real smart. The whole town does. But… well, that’s not what anyone sees when they look at you. The only place around here you’re going to make good money is over at the strip club, honey.”

I’d closed my eyes. I’d known he was right, but I hadn’t wanted to do it. I’d even promised Mom I wouldn’t.

I’d been born with what most would call a blessing, but I had seen as a curse. I was gorgeous. I didn’t say it to be conceited. I said it to be truthful. I was valedictorian of my high school, but still the only thing people saw was a pretty face and a great body.

I’d known he was right.

***

Five Years Ago

Jess

I turned my beat-up old truck into the parking lot of the strip club. The sign, with half its letters burned out, literally said ‘Strip Club.’ No lie. They couldn’t be more original than that. I’d worked hard not to fall in the parking lot littered with broken bottles, used condoms, cigarette butts, and what I was pretty sure were used syringes for hard drugs. It was afirst-class establishment, that was for sure. I figured if I got a scrape, I’d need a new tetanus shot.

I’d called first, and a female bartender who’d sounded somewhat friendly had told me to come on by anytime. She said she’d have one of the managers there to give me a look.

My heart was pounding as I walked in. I purposely didn’t dress to show off my figure too much, because I’d gotten sick of all the comments guys made in the hallways at school. Now that I’d graduated, my sense of fashion hadn’t changed. I’d had to go by one of my friend’s houses to get a short skirt, stripper heels, and a crop top to wear. I felt like I was wearing a costume. The crop top was ridiculous. My friend had maybe a B cup bra size while mine was closer to DDD. It was obscene.

But that was the point, right? If I was going to work here, I’d have to get used to people staring at me wearing a whole lot less.

It was dark inside, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust. When they did, I headed over to the bar.

“Hey, I’m Jess,” I said to the middle-aged woman working to stock the shelves.

“Hey.” She stopped what she was doing to look at me. And sighed. “Hold on honey, let me call them.”

She picked up an old landline phone. “Hey, you got a girt out here to apply.”

I could hear the guy answer, “Tell her we’re full up.”

“No, you’re going to want to see this one. And you might want to call the guys over at the MC, too.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Really.”

I didn’t know what was going on, but I worked to keep a vacant, pleasant look on my face.

“Honey, you got anything else you can do?” her world-weary eyes were full of concern.

“No. I’ve put this off as long as I could, believe me.”

She nodded. “They’ll be right out.”

I thanked her and started to turn around. “Hey,” she reached out and grabbed my arm. “No matter what they say, you don’t have to suck them off.”

“Oh my God!” I was horrified.

The woman laughed, and it seemed like the first time she’d done that in a while. “You’re a funny one,” she said with a grin. “But seriously, they’ll lie and say that’s the only way they’ll hire you. They’re full of shit. You’re already hired. Believe me.”

“Thank you,” I said, my legs shaking a little as I walked away. What was I getting myself into?

Two guys came out. One was middle-aged with a paunch. The other was young and handsome in a slick, used car salesman kind of way.

They took one look at me and their mouths dropped open. The young guy turned his back on me and picked up his cellphone. “Get me Skeeter or Zeke.”

“Come sit down, sugar,” the older guy said, his eyes locked on my breasts. “Damn, girl. What size tits are those? They natural?”