"It is a big decision, is it not?" Madame Imogene said. "You are wise to read it over so carefully."

Read it over. Laura Brooks looked up at the elegant Parisian Courtesan Service owner, bemused as the lady's cultured French accent washed over her. Imogene was chic dressed to kill in a designer suit while Laura knew she looked like a ragamuffin by comparison in her peasant blouse and denim skirt. She also knew that she was lucky that she had that after being robbed. Shell-shocked by the trio of disasters she'd been through, she could hardly focus; much less read the detailed courtesan's contract in front of her. In the last week, she'd been dumped by her mentor, artist Pier Gallo, abandoned in Paris, and mugged. Now all she had to her name were her passport, twenty dollars, and the stuff in her backpack. Why the auction recruiter thought she had what it took to be a seductress, she didn't know, but she was ready to jump at it.

For three months work, she'd receive comfortable lodgings, a new wardrobe, and enough money to go back to the States in style. It would also enable her to set up her own photography studio once she returned to the States. The exchange sounded more than fair even though she knew she'd have to fake it in bed. She'd never had an orgasm before and doubted the situation would change because of the job. Although she had to admit that she was sexually curious. It probably all came from reading those erotica's, like the one lying innocently in her backpack she thought wryly.

Her gaze dropped to the sexual stipulations, and she gulped as she scanned the list of sexual demands. Heck she'd never even tried most of them and probably wouldn't be any good at them, if the truth be told. The most she'd been able to accomplish with her vibrator was a sneeze. "I'm not sure. I mean I haven't tried a lot of these."

"Just check off the ones you're willing to do, and there is also a space to write in a few stipulations of your own choosing."

Laura nodded and blithely checked off the lot, all but kissing, somehow it seemed too intimate. She slid the signed document over to Imogene and watched the lady smile.

"You do not wish to risk your heart, I see," Imogene murmured.

That wasn't her reason, was it? No, she just wanted to keep this impersonal. "I don't think there's any danger of that," Laura said dryly.

"I understand. You're very wise." Imogene smiled again and stood up. "Come. We must prepare you quickly. You're going to be last as it is."

Last sounded good to her, at least she wouldn't have to compete with the others, model-thin beauties she'd seen in the outer room. She stood on wobbly legs and followed Imogene into a dressing room to find a pink bra and matching panties laid out on a table. She let out a sigh of relief; at least she wouldn't be nude like a few of her competitors.

She quickly changed and when she looked at herself in the mirror she was shocked with how provocative she looked, even though she was too curvy with a crooked smile and wild red hair. Her blue eyes were bright with excitement, and she was blushing, a little excited. A formerly suppressed part of her was getting off on this big time, she had to admit, chagrinned. Maybe faking it wouldn't be necessary after all. The outline of her budding nipples was just barely visible and her plump mound and cleft were clearly delineated by the satin panties.

"If I may make a suggestion," Imogene said stepping up to her. She undid the topknot Laura had put her hair up in and the tawny tresses tumbled down to cascade around her shoulders. "Lovely," Imogene said. "Now we must go."

Nick Renault took a sip of his sparkling water and glanced at his divers watch counting the minutes until he could get out of this meat market. He'd only come to appease his worried sister-in-law Simone. He'd stay long enough for Immy to report back to Simone that he'd cooperated and then he had to head out for a business meeting. Simone had claimed he was turning into a cynical workaholic since his divorce six years ago.

He frowned as her words replayed in his mind. You've spent enough time moping over that stupid woman, Nicky. It's time you learned to relax, let go, have a little fun. A lot she knew, work was fun for him, and building his empire in spite of the fact that he'd been born on the wrong side of the blanket had driven him to the top. The fact that he'd rescued his aristocratic father's family despite their displeasure only made it sweeter. There was a big difference between moping and being busy he thought firmly.

He went still when a bewitching redhead stepped out onto the catwalk. Her hair, a fiery blend of copper, gold and auburn, tumbled around her shoulders, reminding him of a fire goddess he'd seen in a painting. Pink frilly underwear enhanced her full figure, shapely breasts, and the womanly flare of her hips. From where he sat he could make out the shape of her stiff little nipples...perfect pink strawberries just waiting for his attention. Well hell, this was a distraction he didn't need. Still, his mouth all but watered as he looked at her and he picked up the excitement in her tip-tilted blue eyes.

Her sexy little mouth formed a perfect 'O' as he as they locked gazes and his damned cock twitched in response. What he wouldn't give to have those pouty lips wrapped around his randy cock.

He didn't want a relationship, he reminded himself but it didn't seem to matter. A temporary lover, well, that had possibilities. Now he hesitated, finding himself irritatingly ready to sign his life away, at least for the next three months. She was new to the game he could tell that the gorgeous little lady was getting off on the experience. He was sure that she didn't have a clue at the true rules of the game. His thoughts darkened as he glanced at some of the other sharks trolling these particular waters. Growing up the hard way, he knew bad blood when he saw it even if it was tied up in a slick package. He shuddered to think of this impertinent redhead being under anyone else's dominion. He knew that a few of the Doms in the audience had bad reputations. Could he really let the innocent redhead risk being sold to that sort of Dom?

Laura locked eyes with the compelling hunk in the front row knowing that it was the only way she could get through this. Dark hair and eyes, a sultry mouth that screamed sex appeal and an aura of strength set him apart from the other dilatants. Whoever the sultry hunk was, he might actually be able to make her come. The other well dressed men faded into the oblivion as she stared at the compelling stranger, her whole body coming to attention. The air conditioning kicked in fluttering against her breasts, making her nipples tingle and harden while her pulse raced.

The PA system kicked in and the announcer said, "This is Laura. A college graduate with a degree in art history. She's a novice, but quite charming as you can see from her contract, she is open to most fetishes and is eager to try a few."

Laura blushed, hearing herself auctioned off and her lack of experience explained. It was all happening too fast. And then he got up to leave making her gasp. For a moment, he caught her gaze, and her knees grew weak, but then he turned and walked away. Her hopes, not to mention her excitement, fizzled. Shit, why had she let herself hope that he'd want her? She rushed off stage; sure that she'd blown it. Why else had the only truly desirable man in the audience left right in the middle of her pathetic performance? The next step would be to call home, beg George her old boss at the tribune for her job back at the paper and an advance, and then crawl back home on her knees.

Madame Imogene grabbed her wrist as she came off stage. "Come with me, my dear, to sign your papers."

"Papers?" she said with a gasp and looked at Imogene's twinkling eyes. "You don't mean someone bought me."

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