Her Raging Flame

I surveyed the whole crowd from where I was standing on the second floor of the La Vida club, a famous brothel frequented by men of high social status who are looking for high-class prostitutes, escorts and the highlight of them all-the virgins.

I was looking down, my hands are gripping the icy-cold railings while my other hand held a wine glass which contained my favorite drink, Teso La Monja, a famous brand of wine imported from Spain. 

I am observing the place and looking for someone among the throng of men seated on the high chairs worthy of myself. I'm searching for someone different other than these men who shamelessly lust at me.

Not that I'm complaining. If I were to be asked, I couldn’t find anything from these men that surround me. All of them are filthy rich. CEOs, politicians, athletes, name any rich guy and you will definitely find him here. 

When it comes to physical appearance, you cannot ask for anything from them. Recently, a famous model from the Middle East who was dubbed as the most handsome in the world has personally came here to bid for me. He was deported from his country because people especially the female population cannot concentrate every time they see him. He even bid me a million dollars but I turned down his offer only because I did not feel anything for him. 

For my current position now, feelings and emotions should be the least of my concern but I am Femella Alcantara, the queen of all the "nymphs" as they all call us. Just like how the great Zeus desire these Greek creatures, so does these men below me will do anything, bet anything to get a taste of us as if we are just products in a market on sale. 

If others were selling their grit and brain prowess, I chose to market myself, my body in short. Some boast their skills in academic fields but here, we go down and show these guys our bed skills. We hold them in the palm of our hands and play at them. Every moan, gasp and cry of pleasure is music to our ears. 

I have all the options in the world. No one can force me to give myself to anyone unless I find him worthy. One of the perks of bearing this surname. 

"What are you doing here, pretty? The bidding will about to start in an hour from now and yet you are still not fully dressed,” said the voice on my back. The owner of the voice stood next to me and took the wine goblet from my hand. 

I snatched back the glass away from his hand and drank all the liquid in it. My eyes went back to the men below. "Please let me be, Chino. You know me. It has been like some sort of ritual to me. I always do this in every auction."

"Are you still looking for him? My, my dear Femella. When will you stop all this nonsense? You are restricting yourself from tasting all these delicious men with big and equally delectable dicks for what? For your stupid superstitious beliefs? Oh please! It’s just absurd. You are absurd.” His long and colorful newly-painted nails flicked in the air. 

"I know. I know my dear. I know I'm pathetic. You don't have to stress it because I myself is aware of it. But Chino, I can smell it in the air. I know he is definitely coming for me. I can smell him. Just another fraction of waiting and I will finally meet the man who deserves my freshness and tightness." I paired it up with a seductive laugh to make it more convincing. 

I saw him rolled his eyes at me. "Whatever. It’s your life. I don’t care anymore if one day, your coochie stops producing mayonnaise. It’s all on you. I warned you already. You can’t possibly put the blame on me when that time comes.”