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Virgin Sale: Aubrey: Bought by the Billionaire, An Older Man Younger Woman Romance, page 1


Virgin Sale: Aubrey: Bought by the Billionaire, An Older Man Younger Woman Romance

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Virgin Sale: Aubrey: Bought by the Billionaire, An Older Man Younger Woman Romance


  Publishing Info

  Chapter One - Aubrey

  Chapter Two - Aubrey

  Chapter Three - Aubrey

  Chapter Four - Aubrey

  Chapter Five - Oliver

  Chapter Six - Aubrey

  Chapter Seven - Oliver

  Chapter Eight - Aubrey

  Chapter Nine - Aubrey

  Chapter Ten - Oliver

  Chapter Eleven - Aubrey

  Chapter Twelve - Oliver

  Chapter Thirteen - Aubrey

  Chapter Fourteen - Aubrey

  Chapter Fifteen - Oliver

  Chapter Sixteen - Aubrey

  Chapter Seventeen - Oliver

  Chapter Eighteen - Aubrey

  Chapter Nineteen - Aubrey

  Chapter Twenty - Oliver

  Chapter Twenty-One - Oliver

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Aubrey

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Aubrey

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Oliver

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Aubrey

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Oliver

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Aubrey

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Hello My Lovelies!

  Virgin Sale: Aubrey

  Bought by the Billionaire, An Older Man Younger Woman Romance

  Published by Harley Jane Meadows, 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places,

  or events are entirely coincidental. All characters in this story are 18 and over.

  Hello my lovelies!

  You can join me on my Tumblr, catch me on Facebook, and follow me on Twitter. I’ll be bringing you lots of fun, new, erotic tales in the days to come. And please do sign up for email updates, so you never miss out on a #FreeFriday ebook!

  And please do check out my other taboo delights right here!


  Harley Jane



  “Look after yourself, dear,” said Joann, my foster mom. She’d been the closest thing I had to a mother for most of my life, at least until I had turned eighteen.

  “I absolutely will. You know I will. Love you,” I say, before ending the call. I felt cold, inside. I didn’t know what I was going to do.

  I should have known better than to call Joann for a loan. It was a bad idea. It’s not that she wouldn’t have sent me money if she had it, but much like myself, Joann lived paycheck to paycheck. She didn’t have anything she could spare. I understood that.

  There I was, six weeks into my first semester as a college freshman. I was already down to my last fifty dollars. Between books and tuition and the clothes on my back, I had next to nothing.

  I didn’t know what I was expecting. I turned off my phone, and threw it on the bed. Time for a walk. Taking a walk almost always made me feel better.

  I pulled on my sneakers, and stood up. Looking back at me in the mirror was a pretty young thing with flat brown hair, blue eyes, clear skin, and a thin smile. She was a little too pretty… it was getting to be a problem, actually.

  It’s not that I didn’t like guys. Far from it. But I was the last one in my class to hit puberty. I went on a grand total of three dates in high school. I had chemistry with one boy, and he… wanted to move too fast, for my taste. Next thing I knew, I had a reputation around school for being a total prude, and my high school life was over.

  College hasn’t been much better. Guys come up and ask me out. When they find out I want to actually get to know them before jumping into bed, they lose interest. What am I doing wrong?

  I grab a jacket, and head out. I just wander the campus. I don’t have anywhere in particular in mind. Walking always clears my head. I walk across the quad. It’s surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. I guess folks are off together. All paired off.

  There’s a cute little pond, across the way from the theatre. It’s pretty nice, when it’s not covered in goose poop!

  I go to the bench, sit down, and look out at the water. My back is to the walking path, so I never see him coming.

  “Excuse me, Miss Caselotti?” I sit up immediately. I reach into my pocket for my pepper spray, I stand up and turn around. There’s a man standing there, wearing a long coat and carrying a briefcase. He’s got dark blond hair, cut short. He’s clean shaven, thin, and wearing a hat that looks like it belongs in the nineteen forties.

  “What? Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

  The man smiled, and reached out to offer me a card. “Forgive me. I’m Richard Claridge.” I take his card. It reads the Keller Foundation.

  “What is this? What do you want?”

  Mr. Claridge took a step back, and raised a hand in soft defense. “Calm down, it’s perfectly fine. My employers ask me to keep an eye out for promising young men and ladies like yourself.”

  I haven’t let go of the pepper spray. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs, and winces like he’s struggling to find the right words. “I have an eye for talent. Potential. There’s a job opportunity coming up, in the coming weeks. You may or may not be perfect for it.”

  My lips form a little ‘o’. What is this guy talking about?

  He nods at the card he gave me. “The address there, the phone number. Give them a call to schedule an appointment. You can come in for your audition. We understand that your time is valuable, which is why there’s a $800 bonus for attending the interview.”

  I knit my brows in consternation. “I thought you said it was an audition.”

  “I did say that. In any case. Everything’s above board. If you don’t like what we have to say, you can leave $800 richer, and go on with your life.”

  Something about what he said lances through me. Subtly suggesting that this is a life-changing opportunity. I’m even more skeptical now. But still intrigued…

  He’s backing away now, still giving me a disarming smile. “In any case. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Caselotti. You won’t be hearing from us again. Not if you don’t want to, anyway. Bye bye.”

  He walks off, into the night, leaving me with a business card in one hand, pepper spray in the other… and a feeling in my gut like I may have just found Charlie’s Golden Ticket.

  “… What the hell?”


  Eight hundred dollars. Eight hundred dollars. Jeez. Would he lie? Why would he lie? Who couldn’t use eight hundred dollars? And what the hell kind of work is it, where they can afford to throw off eight hundred bucks to anyone that comes in just to hear about the job?

  To hell with it. Only one way to find out. I make the call, and schedule an interview. Tuesday’s my light day, I have the whole afternoon free.

  The woman I talk to on the phone is very nice, and she asks me to wear something comfortable when I come in. Strange request, but okay.

  Tuesday rolls around, and I reach the building where they’re holding this audition. I’ve texted my roommate the address, and told her that if anything messed up happens, this is where she can find me.

  The building looks like a renovated warehouse. Somebody poured a lot of money into this place to make it look nice. I walk in, and I’m led to a 2nd story loft. The place is huge. No interior walls, just one wide open space. I like it!

  A woman greets me at the top of the stairs, a redhead in a red blouse and a black pencil skirt. She smiles warmly, and shakes my hand with a good firm grip.

  “Miss Caselotti, hi. I’m Margot. Can I call you Aubrey?”

  I nod, and smile. I let out a nervous chuckle. “Um, sure.

  She nods toward a desk, and charms me again with her smile. “Come on back.”

  She walks me back through this huge loft. Around the open space are other desks, where other women are talking to other girls. There’s also a string of folding blinds, fencing off an area with bright lights behind it. The kind of lights you’d expect to see at a photo shoot.

  “Is this a, a modeling agency or something?” I ask, walking quick to keep up with the amazon in heels.

  She looks past her shoulder and smirks at me. “Or something.”

  We come to an ornate looking wooden desk, where Margot sits down and invites me to do the same. She makes herself comfortable, she even props her feet up on the desk. “So. You’re probably wondering why the hell we reached out to you.”

  I nod. I’m a little out of my element here, and don’t have it in me to come up with a clever comeback.

  She nods, and purses her lips for half a second. “Well Aubrey, we’d like to have a talk with you about selling your virginity, at auction, for an exorbitant amount of money— half of which you would get to keep.”

  My jaw drops open. My eyes go blurry for a second. This, this is unreal.

  Completely unfazed, Margot opens up a drawer. “Bottled water?”

  She hands me a sealed, room temperature bottle. I give it a few looks, make sure it hasn’t been tampered with. I crack the seal, opening it. “Come again?”

  Margot swept her feet off the desk, and leaned forward to balance on her elbows. “My firm represents an establishment of… discerning gentlemen and women. They range from obscenely wealthy, to filthy rich. Some of them have never known a single day’s hard work, while others are self-made Billionaires. Yes, with a ‘B’.”

  Margot’s explanation has a measured tempo. She takes momentary breaks after each big reveal, to give me time to let it sink in. I realize she’s given this exact speech before, verbatim, to god knows how many girls…

  “These men and women are used to the finest of the finest, and that includes delivery. It’s not enough for them to get their rocks off, they want to have their Prince Charming & Cinderella moment doing it.”

  I blink. I blink a few times. I sip my water. “Oh my god. You’re really serious.”

  She smiles. This time, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I know how disorienting this is. How on guard you must feel. I’ve sat right where you’re sitting now. And if the agreements, the clientele, and the level of care they give to their girls wasn’t all 100% sterling, I wouldn’t be working for them today.”

  I put the bottle of water on the table. “You sold your virginity to a complete stranger.”

  She nods. “A ludicrously wealthy stranger, yes. He was literally a prince. I can’t disclose from where. But we spent a long weekend together, he optioned to extend it for a full two weeks. After that, I came back home with more money than I could spend in a decade, and a story that no one would ever believe.”

  This conversation is actually happening. I’m awake, sober, and it is happening. It’s so far out of left field that I honestly have no idea how to respond. So, I keep asking questions.

  “If you got paid so much, why are you still working now?”

  She chuckles. “They learned pretty quick that these conversations were best kept between just us girls,” she says, patting my hand, “to minimize anxiety. Plus, they’re paying me a lovely sum to speak with you honestly and discreetly about my experience.”

  I haven’t moved. I haven’t stormed off in outrage. I’m planted to the seat, if I’m honest. “… Go on.”

  Margot leans back in her chair. “Like I said. I spent a lovely two weeks with a wealthy prince, who showered me with gifts in exchange for my companionship, along with a variety of sexual favors.”

  I swallow. “Um. So it really is…”

  She doesn’t flinch. “Prostitution. Yes. The oldest profession in the world. But on such a scale that, if you play your cards right, you would never have to work another day in your life. Not if you don’t want to.”

  I press my lips together, letting this all sink in. I mean. I was raised to be a good girl, but my experiences with the opposite sex have been garbage, so far. Why not… explore my options?

  I lean in, resting my elbows on the desk. “Say I was interested. How does that… work? What happens then?”

  She smiles. “First thing, you sign a contract with us with some extremely clear terms, stating that you’re consenting to anything and everything that the winning bidder does with you, while you’re alone together. Given the money involved, it’s in everyone’s best interest that they’re protected.” She smiled again, showing her teeth.

  “Protected from what?”

  She tipped her head, and blew out a breath. “Protecting us from you changing your mind on the night, or from stating after the fact that what went on was anything but consensual. Girls have tried that before. It never works out in their favor.”

  I sit back in my chair, letting that sink in.

  “After that, we’d take a few tasteful photos, give the auctioneers a taste of what they’d be bidding on. No nudes, unless you’re comfortable with that. Once your virginity is medically confirmed, you’d be escorted to a remote location for the auction, and an all-expenses-paid stay. It can last anywhere from a weekend, to a full fortnight. It’s really up to you and the lucky bidder, what happens next.”

  I sit up and clear my throat. I take a sip of water. “Okay. I want to make absolutely certain we’re on the same page, here.” Margot nods and presses her lips together, giving me her full attention.

  I chew on my lip a moment, before talking again. “You want me, a complete stranger, to fly to god knows where to stand on an auction block for eccentric assholes with too much money, so I can sell my virginity for an obscene amount of money.”

  Margot nods exactly once. “Of which you will be keeping half, yes.”

  I look down at my lap. I look back at Margot. “To hell with it. I’m in.”



  The next few days are a blur. Margot did hand me eight hundred dollars, cash, for hearing her pitch. I squeezed the money in my hands. It was the real deal. Holy god, I was actually considering this.

  Next came the free physical, with a discreet gynecologist who confirmed I was still a virgin. It occurred to me to ask how the company knew I was still a virgin, in the first place.

  “We don’t,” says Margot, the next time I see her. “We have people who peruse the face books of universities, and reach out when we see someone that fits the parameters we’re looking for.”

  I’m standing in a mostly empty studio, with a furniture and props to choose from. I’m wearing white lace garters, white panties, and a white teddy. My hair is pulled back tight like a ballerina’s, and it’s tied up in fat silk ribbon that’s— you guessed it— white.

  I rub the underside of my nose with my finger. I’m careful not to muss up the makeup job that the artist, Jodie, spent half an hour applying. I’m standing here in lingerie I never would have dreamed of buying for myself, as the photographer adjusts his light levels.

  Margot is standing just off to the side. It’s comforting so see her there. It can’t be an accident. “Um, what parameters are those?”

  I blink. The lights are in my eyes, and Paolo is asking me to look his way. Margot answers me, even though I can’t look at her. “Someone wholesome. Unmarred by the world’s cruelty. Someone chaste, with an untapped dark side just waiting to be discovered. Someone Pure.”

  Flash flash. Flash flash. “Please to put your foot on the ottoman, yes? As if you are adjusting the garter?” I do as Paolo says. Flash flash.

  I snort, when Margot implies that I’m pure. “I mean. I may be a virgin, but my mind is plenty dirty.”

  Margot’s tone is highly skeptical as she says, “Uh huh.”

  Paolo asks me to lift my arm, half an inch, turn this way or that, just a touch. Flash flash. When he’s checking stills, I mana
ge to ask another question without moving too much. “Any, um. Got any advice?”

  Margot’s heels clack on the floor, as she circles the empty space. “Try to act natural. You’re selling you. The idea of you, as you actually are. Our clients are paying an arm and a leg for authenticity, after all.”

  I let out a huff through my nostrils. Huh. “I’d have thought, maybe, they’d want someone… I dunno. Flirtatious.”

  Clack clack go Margot’s heels. “Oh, there’s a market for that, absolutely. Women like you aren’t the only ones on the menu. We cater to all sorts of tastes.”

  I clear my throat. “Um. Do you still… take clients yourself?”

  Clack clack clack clack. “I do. There’s a broker in software futures who can’t get enough of me. Apparently I remind him of his high school crush. He bids on me every time I’m in the market, and he bids to win.”

  “He good looking, at least?”

  I hear a single laugh. “No. ‘Fraid not. He’s in his late forties and about a hundred pounds over what I’d usually consider attractive.”

  Ulp. I hadn’t thought about that. I realized I had absolutely no control over who I drew to the auction.

  “Is it… okay though? Like, do you still enjoy the sex?”

  The clacking high heels stop, as she considers this. “He’s not the worst lay I’ve ever had. He’s attentive. Honestly, we spend half our time roleplaying. I’m some woman named Lucy, and I can’t get over how successful he’s become. So on.”

  Out of the light, Paolo comes to examine my wardrobe. He reaches toward my chest, and I cross my arms over myself. “What are you doing?”

  Paolo trades looks with Margot. “Please to loosen the ribbon, just here?” He taps his chest, between his pectorals. I look down at my chest, there’s a white ribbon between the cups of my bra. I can’t be sure, but it looks like it holds the whole thing together.

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