The third woman spoke. “First time?” she asked me. Her voice was friendly.
I nodded. “Is it that obvious?” I asked ruefully.
She laughed. “You look really nervous,” she told me. “Relax. You’ll have a great time. This is my third go-around.”
“Really?” My curiosity must have been obvious because she grinned at me.
“I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours,” she promised with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “My name is Susan.”
Sarit came over at that point and hurried us to three chairs. “Sit, sit, sit,” she chided. “We have your hair to do.”
Susan laughed. “Sarit, you know it doesn’t matter. They are just going to undo anything you do so they can run their hands through our hair.”
“I still have my job to do, Susan,” Sarit said firmly. “I don’t want to get punished by Madame Lorraine.”
“Liar,” Susan retorted, and they both giggled. “I know you love getting punished by Madame Lorraine.”
I listened to their back-and-forth banter enviously until Susan turned to the redhead, who had stayed quiet and nervous as well. Behind me, a silent Thai girl moved to my hair, rubbing some kind of sweet smelling gel into the strands and massaging it into my scalp. “You look nervous too,” Susan remarked. “Don’t be. It’s really fun. Why did you decide to do this?”
“I wanted to serve,” the redhead replied softly. “I’ve played in clubs but it doesn’t feel real to me. I’ve tried to find a Dom but that’s more complicated. I had one for a while but when he wasn’t dominating me, he just sat on the couch and watched TV, and didn’t do anything for himself. That’s fine for fantasy but it’s hard to sustain a real relationship that way.”
I nodded. I had been a virgin when I was taken, more interested in the imaginary worlds that I entered when I was reading than in the real world in front of me. But Lisa had had a boyfriend and he was very much like the guy the redheaded woman was describing.
“So I thought I’d try the actual fantasy,” she continued. “Three months. I don’t have to worry about how this will work long-term, because it isn’t long-term. But it’s still long enough to be real. Now though, I’m worried that I’ll end up with a jerk.”
Susan shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said. “Madame Lorraine’s auction house is the best in the business. Every single person has been carefully vetted. This is my third time and I’ve never heard of anyone having a bad experience. It’s safe-word friendly, consensual slavery.” She had a soft, faraway look in her eyes. “It’s amazing.”
Behind her, Sarit was nodding her head. “Very safe,” she echoed, as she tended to the redhead’s hair, expertly bundling it in some kind of chignon with strands of hair curling around her face. I watched her work, her hands quick and sure, as she transformed the way the girl in front of her looked. Elena was already beautiful, with her red hair and her pale skin and her sea-blue eyes, but when Sarit was done with her hair, she looked even more spectacular.
“What’s your story?” I asked Susan. “Third time, you said? What keeps you coming back?”
“I like sex,” Susan replied frankly. “And I like to serve. I like to surrender to my Master’s will.” She sighed. “But apart from that? There’s one guy who comes to these things that I’m hoping will bid on me.”
“Who?” Elena asked curiously. She’d leaned forward in her chair.
Susan sighed again for dramatic effect. “His name is Alexander,” she said. “He’s dreamy. I’ve seen him both times I’ve been here, but I guess I’m not his type.” She looked ruefully at her blonde hair which hung in lustrous, touchable waves down her back. “He seems to go for the frail brunettes. Like Jenny.”
That’s precisely why I’m a brunette, I thought. That’s why I’ve been starving myself for twelve weeks. To try and look more waif-like, so that Alexander would bid on me.
Susan continued talking. She didn’t mention Alexander again and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to arouse any suspicion. I tried to ask her what the auction itself was like but she refused to tell me. “It should be a surprise,” she grinned. “I will tell you you’ll get a chance to talk to every Master or Mistress who wishes to bid on you and you can reject anyone you don’t get a good sense from.”
“Does that happen very often?” I asked.
Susan shrugged. “Not terribly often, but it does happen,” she replied. “Mostly, it tends to be around silly things. Some women want only young Masters, some women only want older Masters, some women only want a Mistress, that kind of thing. Things you should have already indicated on your check-list but didn’t. But,” she looked at both of us, very seriously, “if you get a bad vibe from anyone, you should trust your instincts. Always.”