Buying You Read online

  Buying You

  By

  Wendy Rathbone

  Buying You Copyright © 2018

  by Wendy Rathbone and Eye Scry Publications

  Cover design: Sadie Sins

  A publication by:

  Eye Scry Publications

  http://www.eyescrypublications.com

  ISBN #

  TITLE: Buying You

  Author: Wendy Rathbone

  © All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced wholly or in part without prior written permission from the publisher and author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages. Neither may any section of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or other, without prior written permission from the author, except as exempted by legitimate purchase through the author's website, Amazon.com or other authorized retailer.

  Address all inquiries to the author at:

  [email protected]

  Dedicated to:

  Della Van Hise

  …always and forever…

  And much thanks to:

  Sadie Sins

  for her gorgeous cover

  and brilliant advice

  *

  Christina E. Pilz

  for beta-reading,

  Sunday chats

  and invaluable encouragement

  Part One

  

  The Date

  *

  Chapter One

  The sign said: Fantasy Dates, Auction: 4 p.m. For Charity.

  A nervous tremor rippled through Dane’s body, and he let out a low laugh at his apprehension. Stupid, really, to be afraid of a crowd. He’d been the star of drama class in high school, but he still suffered from stage fright. Now, though he was known for some of his higher profile modeling ads, he never performed for a crowd at his job. Not a real crowd. The onlookers he was used to were camera guys, make up artists, set designers, fashion consultants. The public only saw him after the fact, touched up, stretched, tanned, air-brushed and enhanced in still photos on billboards, posters and magazines.

  Now they would all be looking at him. Him. Not to mention, this was his boyhood town. There might be people at the auction he knew. It should have made it easier to think about, but instead it made him feel hyper, unsure.

  But just a date with the winner, one night on the town, that seemed harmless enough. One date. Nothing more. The money he and the others would bring in was going to a worthy cause. Helping to fund a local homeless shelter.

  He’d agreed to this not because he cared that much about good PR, but mainly because this was his hometown. It was always good to remember, when he was hobnobbing in L.A. or NYC with people who seemed displaced from the struggles of everyday reality, that he came from a small community and a mid-class tract house where people had barbeques and birthday parties in their backyards on Saturdays.

  He did not want to come back here to live, no, but he did feel pangs of nostalgia every once in a while. His parents had divorced when he was thirteen, and both had since moved to different cities, but this place was less than an hour from L.A. and this visit for the charity auction sounded fun.

  Dane had already resigned himself to a date with a woman, maybe even a minor politician in the town, or a restaurant owner, or a real estate broker. They would be the ones to afford him.

  Though he was gay, he didn’t mention it to the organizing committee when he’d said yes. This was for raising money, not his pleasure. He’d have dinner with the woman who bought him and that would be that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t dated women before he finally came to terms with himself that he was gay. So no, he didn’t mind going out with a woman. He might even kiss her good night. It wasn’t a hardship.

  But still. His apprehension returned.

  Dane rounded the community center auditorium, a square, stucco structure, found the entrance and pulled open one of two glass doors. When he was little, he used to come here for Halloween carnivals. Over the years, the building had changed very little.

  He entered a brightly lit foyer. The gray floor tile shone from recent waxing. He heard voices up ahead. Past the foyer, the tile gave way to a line of blue carpet that led around a white wall to a long lobby, and there he saw posters on A-frames advertising the auction, and the list of names of the people who’d volunteered to be “fantasy dates.” Between the posters sat a table covered with red cloth. White hearts with ribbons attached to them lay on the table. Two women sat behind it.

  Dane approached.

  “Ah, our star of the night,” one said.

  “Dane Asher.” The second one picked up a white heart and held it out to him, a ribbon necklace attached. “Welcome! This is so exciting. Put this on around your neck. Then find your way up to the stage. We have chairs there. Some of our dates have already arrived. You’ll see them.”

  They both looked him up and down, grinning.

  He’d dressed in his nicest suit, black with a fuchsia tie and matching fuchsia handkerchief. He wasn’t as perfect as his pictures, but he knew he looked good. He took the heart and placed the ribbon necklace over his head.

  The first woman said, “Thank you so much for coming. Our charity will benefit greatly. I know you’ll take the highest bid.”

  “Thank you,” he said, giving her a grin, happy to see her blush.

  He moved past the table to the first set of doors to the auditorium. Instantly, the air became drier, cooler and serene. It was always like that entering a theatre, as if the huge expanse of it was designed in such a way as to quicken the senses. Hushed voices came from all over. Some people had already come in to take their seats.

  The stage, golden-lit, had a fairly rudimentary set up. A line of folding chairs, a podium, some pretty, potted mini-trees to each side of the stage to add a little greenery.

  Dane moved down the carpeted aisle. The lights were on, but dim. The corners of the auditorium held shadows that gave the place a bigger feel, more magnificent than it really was.

  As he passed by some audience members, their heads turned, trying to place him. He gave them his best I’m charmed smile and headed to the side of the stage and the steps.

  Over half the chairs on the stage were already occupied. He recognized one character actor from an old TV series, the owner of a large car lot off the interstate who always did his own commercials, and a female comedian he’d seen once on Netflix. The rest were mysteries. Most were young, but not all. The car salesman was a rugged, handsome forty-something. A couple of others looked to be in that age range as well.

  Ever polite, Dane shook hands with each person on the stage and took a seat at the end of the line-up.

  As he waited for the event to start, Dane tried not to fidget. The chair back pressed cold into his back. The seat was hard. His knee bounced. He stretched his leg out to keep himself still. There was no reason for him to be nervous as this was all fun. But his skin felt clammy, cool and hot at the same time.

  He was definitely not the performer-type when it came to playing himself. Give him a character, a script, and once he got past the stage fright, he was fine. Let people take their pictures and do whatever they wanted to his body on film, but in real life, he preferred his privacy. Luckily, the chairs on the stage filled up quickly as more and more audience filed in, the noise level rising, people laughing, some pointing or staring at the people on the stage. Dane rested his hands on the tops of his thighs, focusing on keeping his fingers from curling into fists. He didn’t have to wait long before the auction began.

  First, the two women who’d greeted people in the lobby came on stage. Each gave short speeches about how happy they were to have this event, thanking the volunteers, and all the contestants on the stage.

  They talked about their charity and all the various events they were doing to raise money for it. Dane listened but wasn’t sure his brain absorbed most of it. He kept his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

  Next, the auctioneer came out, an older man with a voice perfectly toned for selling. He introduced himself as “Bill” and quickly gave a run-down on the auction rules. Dane stared straight ahead, the flutter in his stomach making him wish for it all to be quickly over.

  Finally, the auction began.

  People loved the way Bill made jokes. He described the dates as “items” and pushed for higher bids. The audience made lots of noise, rooting for the person being auctioned off, encouraging bidders to go higher. The audience had little heart-shaped paddles they waved to bid.

  Dane felt himself grinning as he watched. He did not realize until about half-way through the line-up of contestants that he was probably being saved for last. The best for last? He hated to think it, but as a model he was used to being bought for his looks. His appearance was what paid his bills, and it would hopefully pay a lot into this particular charity as well.

  But as the time got closer to his turn, his heart sped up. The nervousness made him feel like he had back in his school days. He’d been the best-looking kid in class, even starring in school plays, but still insecure. After his parents divorced, he’d been angry and hurt, and he’d spent a couple of difficult teen years being haughty and rude, pushing people away, having a hard time making friends. Later, in high school, he’d become somewhat popular, even being voted in the class yearbook “guy most likely to break everyone’s heart” but it was because he was tall and dark, lean and blue-eyed. He could grab attention with his smile. But none of it really meant anything. And none of his frien
ds were ever close friends. He’d kept in touch with no one from that era.

  That withdrawn feeling had lifted somewhat when he’d begun to get modeling jobs, but he still held back from relationships. He’d dated only two women early on, which led to nothing. He’d had three short hook ups his entire life, all with men. One of the hook-ups had led to a brief dating stint that ended badly. He didn’t think too much about that. He was still young. He had his entire life ahead of him.

  “And now we arrive at our final offering,” said Bill proudly. “I’m sure you’ve all been waiting to bid on this one! Dane Asher!”

  When he heard his name called, it came to him as if through an echoing tunnel. He rose gracefully from his chair to the sound of clapping and cheers. He automatically donned his perfect smile, and came to stand beside the podium, raising his hands modestly and shaking his head. When he stood next to Bill, the applause growing louder, the butterflies became a frenzy in his stomach.

  In truth, he felt good-natured about it all. It was only nerves that made him wish he was anywhere but here.

  “You may have seen Dane in the famous Tokatu underwear ads.”

  Dane’s face flushed when he turned his head and saw, on the huge TV behind him, his image come up for all to view. The ad they had chosen to showcase him and remind the audience of who they were bidding for was one of his most recent, and most famous.

  In the photo, he lounged in a red velvet chair, one leg up on the chair’s armrest, the other draped over the seat. His dark bangs spread in artful spikes across his forehead, and the waves of the rest of his hair were slicked back, behind his ears. His eyes appeared almost cat-like, the blue enhanced of course, as if his irises were made of sapphire.

  His pose showed off his sculpted chest and arms, bare and tanned, to full effect. His crotch was nicely rounded in the white briefs, promising a package worth unwrapping. The ad communicated that you, too, could have a promising package and look like this if you were to buy this underwear with this label and wear it everywhere you went.

  Dane was proud of the ad—he looked good--but standing live in front of an audience, that familiar stage fright always threatened just beneath the surface. His face grew hot as he heard the whoops and catcalls from the audience.

  “Dane Asher is single, twenty-four, six foot three, and well on his way to becoming a super-model, and we are so happy he took time out of his busy schedule to be here for our charity. So bid. Bid high. Bid often.” Laughter from the audience. “Oh, and did I forget to add? Bid high!”

  Bill sold him like a pro. His voice rang over the auditorium with a tone and resonance that encouraged and enticed without sounding like he was begging. He’d done a fine job so far of raising money and getting high bids for all the contestants.

  Dane forced a smile, willing himself to relax. He took a deep breath, which helped. Soon the bidding began.

  Dane could not keep track of all the bids flying about. He only knew that the auctioneer was talking rapidly, repeating shouted numbers, pressing for more bids, and that the audience responded with equal enthusiasm.

  When he heard the number “nine hundred” he had the brief thought, Will the bidding go to four figures? No contestant had been bid that high. Only one had made it to past eight hundred. This was not a rich town. It was already taking them forever to raise the money for the shelter.

  Suddenly, a voice called out from the back of the auditorium.

  “Four thousand!”

  A hush spread over the crowd.

  All the bids so far had come from women.

  The voice came from a figure wearing a dark blue hoodie. And it was male.

  The auctioneer turned to Dane, leaning away from the microphone. “Are you okay with this bid?”

  “Yes. I made no specifications as to the gender of my date.” But now his interest peaked. The idea that a man might buy his time for the evening had not occurred to him. Of course, he liked it.

  Since he was not publicly “out” the auctioneer made a polite comment about the situation.

  “In the code of good sportsmanship, Mr. Asher has given his go-ahead that a bidder of any gender is acceptable.”

  The audience erupted in loud applause and whistles.

  Dane squinted toward the back of the room, trying to see the man better. But the sweatshirt hood put his face in shadow. All Dane could make out was a lean build in what might be black jeans. The hands were hidden in the hoodie’s pockets. He looked tall, but not as tall as Dane.

  “Four thousand has been bid. Do I hear four thousand fifty?”

  Silence met the auctioneer’s voice. Dane glanced about, the lights of the stage casting the audience into silhouettes, the air stirred by occasional dust motes.

  It seemed to take forever for Bill to pound his gavel to end the game.

  When the bang came, Dane jolted, but kept smiling, hoping no one noticed how nervous he still was.

  “Sold! A date for the evening with Mr. Dane Asher for four thousand dollars, and our record bid for the evening! Thank you, Mr. Asher, for your participation in tonight’s charity event.”

  Dane waved to the audience and walked off-stage to the table where the bidders came to pay for their purchases.

  Chapter Two

  As he stood waiting for his bidder to show, Dane scanned the crowd. People were standing, walking up and down the aisles, some leaving, some just hanging out. He could not see the man in the hoodie.

  After about five minutes, a young man in a black suit approached the table. In his hand he had two envelopes. He handed one to the cashier, and one to Dane.

  He said quietly, “Payment. And a note for you, sir.”

  “Are you who bid on me?”

  “No, sir. I am the chauffeur.”

  “Chauffeur?”

  “Read the note, sir.”

  Dane opened the envelope. The texture of the paper against his fingertips felt soft, expensive. The creamy coloring added to its formality. He slid out a thin, single sheet of paper, folded in thirds.

  He unfolded it and read the neatly, hand-printed note:

  Mr. Asher:

  The limo is for you. The driver is instructed to take you to my home, about a twenty minute journey from where you now stand.

  Help yourself to the champagne from the fridge in the back seat.

  Dinner will be served at 7.

  I look forward to meeting you.

  K.

  Dane looked up from the short letter to the limo driver.

  “He already left?” Dane asked.

  “Yes, sir. He said he had some things to attend to, but will be awaiting your arrival.”

  “He didn’t even give his name in this note. Who is he?”

  “You will have to ask him that question, sir,” The driver looked too young to sound so formal.

  “You don’t even know his name?”

  “I was instructed not to say. I drive for his company, sir. I go where he tells me to go. I was instructed to come here and pick you up. He told me to tell you to call him K.”

  “Then he already knew he was going to win me.”

  “Yes, sir. He seemed very sure of that.”

  Bill came over to them. “Is there a problem? Are you having second thoughts, Mr. Asher?”

  “No, no. I’m fine. I just expected to meet my date here and leave together. But now he’s sent a limo and… and I have my car here.”

  “That is not a problem, sir,” the limo driver said. “He told me to tell you not to worry about your car. When the date is over, you will be brought back here.”

  “Are you all right with that?” asked Bill.

  “Yes. Yes. It’s fine. I just wondered who he is.” Dane leaned toward the cashier. “Did he pay with a check? Does it have a name?”

  The woman holding the check looked closer at it. “It’s a company check, from something called Trans Corp. I can’t make out the signature, just a K for the first part and maybe that’s a P or an N in the last name? I don’t know. It’s mostly a squiggle.”