Chapter 1 – Eden #2
There’s even a “chickening out clause,” as I privately call it.
If I don’t show up to the meeting and let the client scan my QR code, the funds are released back to the bidder.
Easy-peasy. My market research shows that I can expect to clear low six figures.
That’s two years of runway for my business, a real launch budget that would let me commit myself full time.
It’s the difference between leaving Toronto on my own terms or my brothers’.
Besides, it’s not like my virginity is that valuable to me. I used to have dreams about one particular man helping me out, so to speak, but those have died. I’m twenty-four now, and old enough to stop saving myself for a man who has no idea I want him, and who isn’t remotely interested in me.
I’ve tried giving my virginity away a few times now. Nice, harmless guys, friends of friends I met at parties. And every goddamn time, the minute things started getting hot and heavy, the door would slam open and there would be my brothers. They put a stop to it all before I had a chance.
Well, there’s no way for them to stop me this time.
I open the seller forum and type out a message to the CamCuties admin, asking to post a High-value exclusive date that can only be bought once. I reread the message three times, even though I’ve silently been composing it in my head for weeks. Taking a breath, I press send.
Suddenly, my mouth feels bone dry. Closing my laptop, I head to the kitchen for a glass of water. I gulp it down in two long drags, half-listening to Brinley chatting with Pippa over the phone on the living room couch, oblivious to what I’ve just done.
I refill the Brita pitcher and watch as water drips down to the bottom.
I’m not scared, exactly. In fact, in a way, I’m relieved.
I’ve been debating this for so long that finally setting up the auction feels like a release.
I won’t have to nickel-and-dime myself every time I go to a coffee shop, wondering if I can afford an almond croissant.
I could go see a movie instead of browsing Brinley’s streaming library.
I could buy brand name macaroni and cheese at the grocery store. I’ll be able to have a life.
Once the water’s finished filtering, I pour another glass and head back to my room. When I open my laptop, a response is already waiting for me.
It’s done. I’ve been autorouted to the verified seller queue, with pending approval within an hour. Meanwhile, I can pick when I want to host the auction and upload my poster.
The perfect poster image is already in my phone.
I took it before a cam session last week.
I’m facing the wall, my honey-blonde hair long and loose, a lacy thong the only thing providing any semblance of modesty.
You can see the curve of my ass, the length of my back, the arch of my neck between strands of hair.
Nothing’s airbrushed out. The realness of me, my freckles and mussed hair and the dimples on my ass, are exactly what these guys are paying for.
I figure Friday night, after Friendsgiving, is the safest time. There’s no way Brinley will pop back to our apartment when she’s already in her boyfriend’s building, probably a few slices of pie deep. I’ll be uninterrupted.
I move on to the guest list next. Event planning and virginity auctions aren’t so different, apparently.
I’m allowed to invite six possible bidders.
The first five are easy picks—my regulars, the ones who show up for every scheduled live and stay the whole time.
They pay my top subscription fee, so they also get personalized videos from me.
I’ve gotten to know them a bit in the chat, and weirdly, I’ve started to like them, but the way you like your favorite barista.
There’s Roughandready8, who always drops hilarious gifs in the chat. I’m pretty sure he’s a professional wrestler based on a few comments he’s made about “matches.” Then again, he could also be really into firestarting, so who knows.
Next is TomHardyLookalike. He sent me a selfie once that lets me know he looks nothing like Tom Hardy, but he’s sweet and full of compliments.
Then there’s DirtyTalker69, whose screenname is incredibly accurate.
The stuff he says he wants to do to me is absolutely filthy, but somehow never disrespectful.
There’s MrBigBigBig, who’s in his 50s, well over six feet, and admittedly a big Sex and the City fan.
He offered to send me a pair of Manolos once, which I seriously considered but ultimately refused.
My favorite of the five is ReformedJock95, a one-time college hockey player who made it big in finance.
He’s quiet in the public chat, but he sends me long, thoughtful messages about his day, apologizing frequently for wasting my time.
It’s all mundane, boring stuff, but it makes me feel like I know him—even if it’s just what he had for lunch.
I let out a sigh of relief as I finish typing in their names. None of them would have been top of my list to take my virginity, but they don’t disgust me, either. I could live with any of them winning.
Biting my lower lip, I stare at the sixth and final spot. I quickly reject a few possibilities, guys who sent me large tips but with messages and requests that made my skin crawl. I could do without losing it to the guy who begged for my sweaty gym clothes, thanks.
Of course, there’s always JAL29871.
I know nothing about JAL29871. It’s a boring username that was probably randomly generated by the platform, the kind of handle a guy uses when he doesn’t want anyone knowing who he is.
He only tipped me once. I’d been telling a story about a customer at The Peppermint Press. How she walked in from a rainstorm, water dripping from her hair and jacket. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes looked like she’d just survived a hurricane.
“Can I help you?” I asked, ready for her to request paper towels or a hot drink.
Instead, she threw her head back. “I just need a book about a man who’s actually nice for once.”
I laughed on the stream, retelling the story.
My natural laugh is part of my appeal to these guys.
It’s big, loud, and hearty, the kind of laugh that makes people turn around in restaurants.
I don’t love the attention it attracts, so a long time ago, I learned to swallow it down in favor of a dry chuckle.
Afterward, JAL29871 just sent me $500 with a short note.
“Thanks for the laugh.”
I waited for him to follow it with a DM with some kind of dirty request. $500 just for a laugh? It’s unheard of. But he didn’t. That was the last time he contacted me.
Before I can overthink it, I type his handle into the sixth slot.
I reread everything two more times, because a typo on my virginity auction invite would be beyond humiliating. Then I press send.
CamCuties immediately autoconfirms. Pending imminent approval, the invitations are scheduled to go out within the hour. The auction’s locked: sixty minutes, six bidders, Friday at 11:00 p.m.
“Eden!” Brinley yells from the living room. “Food’s here!”
With a sigh of relief, I close the laptop. It’s done now. All I need to do is eat pad Thai and wait.