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and did absolutely nothing but put a dab of gel in his palm before he ran his fingers through his sexy hair. He looked over at me, winked, and did this half-smirk thing while he applied deodorant in a way that made it look pornographic. I seriously wanted to nuzzle his pits.
    There was an air of confidence about him that made me want to lick him from head to toe, and then maybe suck on all his little piggies.
    While a part of me was relieved that he was leaving, my inner miniwhore wanted to beg him to get back in the tub and show us that magic trick he’d done with those porntastic fingers again. Just like that, Double Agent Coochie was born. All it had taken was my very first orgasm to bring her to life. And she was apparently a very shameless hoochie. Great.
    It wasn’t until I heard Noah shout that he was leaving and the door close behind him that I finally forced myself to getout of the bath of sin. My bags were sitting just inside the door; I assumed Noah had brought them up. Once I was dressed and feeling a bit modest again, I decided to leave the bedroom in search of some sustenance. I hadn’t even eaten the night before because my nerves had been all over the damn place and I’d been worried that I’d end up puking right in the middle of my auction.
    The house was eerily quiet, but oddly warm and cozy given how big it was. I slowly made my way down the hall and toward the staircase, checking out my surroundings in awe. It was tastefully decorated with large paintings that looked like they cost more than what my father had made in an entire year at the only factory in Hillsboro. The floors were carpeted a regal red, but the walls were kept white. Most of the doors to the other rooms were closed, but I didn’t bother to open them because I was hungry and I knew I’d eventually see them over the next two years.
    Once I made it down the staircase, the eerie quiet went out the window. There had to be at least half a dozen women in gray uniforms with white aprons scurrying about like a colony of ants united in the task of making Casa de Crawford immaculate. All of that stopped the second they sensed my presence, every pair of eyes trained on me in surprise.
    “Um, hi,” I greeted them.
    A short, pudgy woman stepped forward with a smile as bright as the sun. “Excuse me, miss. We didn’t mean to disturb you. We can come back later if you’d like.” She waved her hands at the other women and they started gathering their supplies.
    “No, it’s fine!” I said, probably a little louder than necessary. “I mean, you know … you’re not bothering me. So just do whatever it is you’re here to do, and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
    The lady turned back to me again, same smile in place. “We shouldn’t be long.”
    I furrowed my brow. “Pfft, yeah. Take your time.” She bowed slightly, which was weird, and then turned again, but I stopped her. “Um, can you point me in the direction of the kitchen?”
    She waved her hand toward a long corridor. “It’s just down the way and through the dining hall, miss.”
    I thanked her and headed in that direction, convinced I had given the help plenty to speculate and gossip about the second I was out of earshot. Not that I blamed them. I’d probably do the same if I were them. And then I wondered if maybe I looked different now that I’d had my first orgasm. Could they tell? Surely not.
    I wandered toward the back of the house and through a huge formal dining room with a table in the middle that had to seat at least fifty people. Okay, that might have been a slight exaggeration, but I swear it looked just like that table in
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
when they served chilled monkey brains to the guests.
    There was a door at the other end, and I swore to Christ that if I pushed it open and found myself in some ancient tunnel filled with booby traps and every insect known to man, I was so out of there. Thankfully, it was only the kitchen. But I