Boy Toy Auction

by C. A. Harms

  “Anyway,” Gianna lowers her feet and stands from my chair, “you about done for the day?”

  “I have a few emails to send and some loose ends to tie up before I can slip out. Why?”

  “Because it’s the weekend.” She hurries around the side of my desk and steps in front of it. “I’ve made plans for us.” She crosses her arms and leans back against the desk, like she knew what my reaction would be.

  “I was planning on staying home tonight and catching up on the work I’ve let go this week,” I say, knowing she’s rolling her eyes at me as I move around her, ignoring her poisoned stare. “I’m not really in the mood to go out and drink.”

  “Who said we’re going out to drink?”

  I laugh. “Because Gianna, a night out with you always leaves me hungover the next day. Then I spend the remainder of my weekend attempting to recover.”

  “I’ll have you know I bought two tickets to a charity auction.” She pulls them out of her back pocket and holds them up. I can only see the backs of the tickets and the words “Breast Cancer Awareness” printed in a bright pink color against the cream paper. “It’s for a good cause and there are hundreds of women attending this event.”

  I know there is a catch; there is always a catch. Gianna is a sweet girl, one with a fantastic heart, but I know she wouldn’t be willing to spend her Friday night at a charitable event if there wasn’t an upside. She would send a large donation and avoid the hassle of the actual event itself.

  “What’s the catch?”

  She gasps and has the nerve to look offended by my words, which only makes my smile shine brighter because she is so transparent to me. “Are you saying that I couldn’t just be willingly going to this auction out of the goodness of my heart?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” I don’t even hesitate to respond. “What are they auctioning off anyway?”

  That’s when I see it, that shift in her stance. The nervous twitch that she usually hides so well from everyone else. But she can’t hide it from me. “Gorgeous artifacts.” She shrugs and looks away just as a smirk tugs at her lips.

  “Gorgeous artifacts, huh?”

  She nods and moves toward the large windows that overlook Chicago. The Gianna avoidance phase begins. If she isn’t looking directly at you, it is so much easier for her to hide the fact that she is leaving things out.

  “Show me the tickets, Gia.” She ignores me as she pretends to look out at the streets below. “Gia,” I say louder and see her shoulders vibrate with laughter.

  Instead of waiting for her to acknowledge me, I move in and pull the tickets from her hand. She attempts to grab them back, but doesn’t even come close as I move away quickly, putting a wide space between us.

  They are for a charitable event to raise money for breast cancer, but what is being auctioned isn’t artifacts. “Men,” I say, looking up at her, “they’re auctioning off men?”

  There is a long pause as she watches me, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. She is at a loss for words. That is something of a total rarity for her. I know she was waiting for my freak out and I could feel it bubbling inside.

  “As in real live men,” I add, looking back down at the tickets. A boy toy auction to raise money for breast cancer in a city full of horny, lonely woman. Genius or plain stupid, I couldn’t decide. They are tossing these men to the wolves.

  “It’s a night with a man.”

  “So they are prostituting these guys out?”

  She laughs. “Well, they aren’t selling their dicks, Emerson.” I find her smiling wide as her shoulders continue to shake with ongoing laughter. “Nowhere does it advertise a night of freaky, dirty, no holds barred sex. It’s the company of a gorgeous man.”

  “Please.” I roll my eyes and hand the tickets back to her. “Just because they aren’t advertising sex doesn’t mean that isn’t what they’re selling.”

  “Well, someone has her mind in the gutter.” She looks at me accusingly, doing this strange little wobble of her head from side to side. She was so mocking me, I just knew it.

  “I’ll pass.” I choose to ignore her accusations. I can see it now—Hector getting wind of me going to such an event, then me having to suffer through his lectures later. It was always the same one too. “You have people that are judging your every move, Emerson.” The fact was he was the one analyzing my every step.

  “You’re not passing,” she corrects me. “You’re going, and you’re gonna have fun. You’re getting boring, Emerson, and pretty soon you’re going to wake up and realize that you have wasted the best years of your life. Things are gonna start to sag, you’re gonna have wrinkles around your eyes, and you’re gonna be married to some executive named Walter who thinks the idea of living it up is drinking red wine before five in the evening.” I wrinkle my nose at the horrid description she just gave. “I know.” She reaches out and places her hand on my shoulder. “It’s awful, babe. That is exactly why you are going tonight.”

  When I attempt to argue once more, she lifts her hand and presses her finger to my lips. In turn, I raise my brows, making her laugh.

  “I’ll pick you up at five, we need to get to the salon right away. I’m doing your hair and we have to be there by seven.” She quickly moves toward the door, whistling the whole way and ensuring this is not up for debate. “No need to pick out something to wear, I already have that covered too. Becca and Milly will meet us there. They’re going earlier to grab a table in front. Something tells me we wanna be up front, close and personal with all the steamy treasures.” She winks and juts out her hip, doing some strange little kick of her heel thing.

  Then she was gone, and I was left speechless.

  Nicholas

  “So I invited my friends.” I look into the mirror before me to see my sister’s reflection. “We all bought tickets because there is no way we’re missing this display of ridiculousness that you and the guys are putting on tonight. My guess is that all you end up doing is embarrassing yourselves, and you know me—I need the proof for all family functions. Home movies of my brother looking like a fool are always the best way to begin any evening.”

  “Ridiculous?” I finally turn away from the mirror to look directly at her. “If I remember correctly during our lessons you said, and I quote, ‘Wow, Nic you do have moves. You might win this contest.’”

  “I was trying to be polite. What I should have said was that you looked like you were three sheets to the wind and trying to swat away a swarm of bees.”

  “No, I heard you pretty clearly before.” I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to allow her to act like she didn’t praise me. “You said, ‘With moves like that you’re gonna blow them away.’”

  “As I said before, I was trying to be nice.”

  “Why don’t you just ask your friends to stop by here first?” I tell her and watch her eyes narrow at me. “I could put on a pre-show and get their opinions.” I see her confident smirk falter for a few seconds.

  “Nah, we’ll just watch you embarrass yourself tonight instead over drinks.”

  “The only person that's gonna be embarrassed is you when you witness all your friends battling it out to win me.” She hates it when her friends show interest in me, and always has. They always wanted to be around me and my friends versus doing girly shit with her. “I bet there’ll be bloodshed.”

  “Whatever.” She grabs the t-shirt from the end of my bed and tosses it to me. “I got you a size too small so that it fits tighter.” I arch my brow at her. “You need all the help you can get.”

  “Are you saying I have a nice body?”

  “Eww, no. What I’m saying is that the women will be too busy trying to figure out why you’re wearing a little boy’s shirt and ignoring the fact that you can’t dance for shit. It’s a distraction tactic.” She picks up her purse and keys and moves toward the door. “Don’t try to disgrace yourself too much, big brother.”

  I chuckle when she disappears out the front door of my stud
io apartment.

  I slip the shirt over my head, turn back toward the mirror, and slowly begin to run the dance moves I’ve rehearsed through my mind. My hips are rotating as I hold my hands out. Ever so slowly I start to run them over my body, and I lift the hem of the tight t-shirt to show my abs as they tense from my movements. The muscles of my arms and shoulders tighten too, and I’m suddenly thankful my sister decided to get the smaller, more fitted shirt.

  I am ready for this. I am excited.

  I wear a pair of worn-out and frayed jeans that hang just right on my waist. They are my favorite jeans and ones I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on. With a new haircut and my facial hair trimmed, I gather my keys and give myself one more once-over before I flip off the light to my room.

  Jax, my three-year-old tabby cat, jumps off the back of the couch and starts moving toward me with purpose. Instantly he begins to circle my legs, rubbing against my ankle while meowing loudly.

  “I gotcha little man.” I move toward the cabinet and pull out his cat food, dumping just enough to hold him over into his bowl. With a pat to his head, I slip on my shoes and exit my apartment.

  I wasn’t sure how this entire thing was going to work out, but I wasn’t dumb enough to believe if things took a left turn, I might need to get away fast. That meant having my car on hand was a must. This entire thing was more about outdoing my friends versus winning some amazing woman. Though that would be the icing on the cake.

  The auction is being held in the Chicago Cultural Center on Washington Street. I had only been there once before for a college friend’s wedding years ago.

  As I enter the front doors, I notice instantly all the women filtering through the front lobby. All eyes are fully alert as if they are already on the prowl. You would think I was prime rib the way they all began to look me over from head to toe and back to my head again.

  “Are you here for the auction?” I turn and face a middle-aged woman carrying a clipboard. I consider saying no and turning around to walk out, only the idea of letting the guys win that easily didn’t sit well with me.

  “Yes.”

  “Name.”

  “Nicholas Vaughn,” I said as I watch her search through the list of names.

  “A twenty-nine-year-old homicide detective,” she begins, her smile widening with each detail, “and Marine veteran who served two tours with Special Operations. Oh,” she pauses for a few seconds, and a smile spreads wide across her lips, “and you’re single, too.”

  “Yes, those are all facts.” My words seem only to please her further.

  “Well, let me direct you to the back where you can settle in and get ready for the show.”

  I follow behind her and don’t miss the way she continues to look back over her shoulder every so often as if she’s sizing me up. That, or she is checking to see if I am checking her out. I have nothing against older women, they are beautiful, but this one reminds me of my Great Aunt Sylvia and I’m getting an unsettling feeling…fast.

  Then it dawned on me. I was going to be auctioned off to a room full of lonely middle-aged women. The chances of this woman before me or one just like her being one of those women was pretty high. An involuntary shiver runs through me, causing the little hairs on the back of my neck to stand tall.

  “We were beginning to think you weren’t gonna show up,” someone roars as the woman steps aside. I’m faced with Spencer, Frank, and Terry, who stop what they are doing to rush over toward me. “Thought you got cold feet,” Spence retorts.

  “Hell no,” I say more confidently than I feel. “I just thought I’d give you three a little extra time to feel inferior before I showed up and squashed your chances.”

  “Please, this place is swarming with so many hot women.” Terry appears more excited than I’d ever witnessed before. “Look at this.” He moves toward the curtain and pulls it aside as I step in closer.

  It is nothing like I thought it would be. In fact, the room seemed to be full of the perfect mixture of older and younger women. I could feel the confidence that had faltered only moments ago quickly returning.

  “Spence.” We spin around and move away from the curtains in a hurry to see a woman approaching us, looking serious. “We need to go over a few things before the auction takes place.” We’ve never met Spencer’s girlfriend, but I can almost guarantee this is her.

  “Guys, this is Anna, my girl.”

  “I’m hardly a girl,” she challenges him, and I feel laughter bubbling inside me, my chest shaking as I try my best to hold it in. “So we need to get a few things set before you go out on that stage.”

  Terry and Frank stare at her like she’s sprouted horns, and I cover my mouth with my hand, trying my best to make it appear natural.

  She skips right over the pleasantries with us and turns her attention back to Spencer. “So there’s no need to go out there and fight for the attention of any of those women. The only one you’ll be leaving here with is me. A smile, a wave, whatever, but nothing too alluring. There really is no point in piquing anyone’s interest.”

  Spencer looks like a scorned kid.

  “Agreed?” Anna adds and Spencer nods. I want to fucking laugh; I’m talking bent over holding my gut kind of laughter. Did she honestly have this kind of hold over him? She points to her cheek and Spencer leans in to place a kiss there before she spins on her heels and walks away.

  I look at Terry and Terry looks at Frank, who is staring at Spencer. We are all slightly confused by the crazy display we just witnessed. Spencer is always so cocky and arrogant, but that woman seriously just walked away with his nuts in the palm of her hand.

  “Hey Spencer, did it hurt?”

  He looks at me with a puzzled look on his face. “Did what hurt?”

  “When your girl ripped off your balls and tucked them in her pocket.” Frank and Terry chuckle and even a few guys near us who overheard the entire thing laugh along too.

  “She doesn’t control me or my choices.” It sounds more like a question than a confident statement. Spencer even looks back over his shoulder, I’m sure to see if Anna was anywhere close enough to hear him. “In fact,” he begins again when he realizes she is gone, “I’m gonna go out there and make the ladies scream. There won’t be a dry seat in the house.”

  “No, because they’ll piss themselves with laughter at the sight of you.” Terry high-fives Frank like some high schooler as they both sputter with laughter at their shared lousy joke.

  The determined look on Spencer’s face assures me without words that things are about to get interesting—meaning his girl was going to beat his ass and quite possibly castrate him by the end of the night. He had something to prove and as we presumed when we first found out about this night, things were most definitely about to backfire.

  Emerson

  “Isn’t this a bit,” I look down at myself once more trying to come up with the right explanation, “over the top?” I never wear my hair down, but tonight it was flowing over my shoulders and back in long waves. The product Gianna added gave it a glossy look and managed to make it seem a little more red than usual.

  “This is a must,” she adds as she steps up to my side and holds out a pair of strappy sandals. “Here, these will highlight your killer legs.”

  I arch a brow and look between her and the hooker heels she’s holding.

  “Stop being a dud, Em. They’re gonna look amazing.”

  She was enjoying this little makeover far too much. Gianna had me in a tight little silver dress that if I bent over, either one of two things, or both, would happen. My ass would be hanging out, and I would most definitely be flashing some tits for sure. The dress was so low cut that in all honesty, I was terrified that a deep breath would trigger a wardrobe malfunction.

  “Will you stop freaking out about your cleavage?” Gianna says with a laugh. “The main purpose for the tape is to ensure the safety of your girls. Look at yourself.” She grabs my shoulder and turns my body toward the full-length mirror. “You l
ook gorgeous. You spend entirely too much time hiding behind your work and the person your father insists you be. Em, you’re young and beautiful. You deserve a night out, one where you can stop worrying about tomorrow and live for the now.”

  I know she is right. Hell, I wish I had the courage she did.

  “You’ve got an amazing body, one you need to stop hiding behind all those old lady clothes.” I smile because she always makes fun of my business suits. “You seriously need to let me dress you more often.”

  “Yeah, could you imagine me walking into the office wearing something like this?”

  “The men in the boardroom wouldn’t be able to stand up for at least fifteen minutes after you leave the room.” She wags her eyebrows suggestively and I shiver at the thought, pretending to gag at the visual. “I bet you’d get them to agree to just about anything you ask if you wore dresses like this.”

  I laugh, but not at the comment she made. I can picture the look on my father’s face if I were to show up at work wearing even something half this provocative. That pinched up, displeased look he gets when things aren’t as fine-tuned as he desires them to be is almost like he’s sucked on a lemon far too long.

  “Okay Toots,” Gianna says as she shimmies at my side and bumps her hip to mine. “We’ve gotta get going, or we’re gonna miss the show.”

  We join Becca and Milly at a high table toward the front of the stage. They already have drinks waiting for the both of us. From the way they are both glossy-eyed and giddy, I have to assume they already have one heck of a head start.

  The room is loaded with women all dressed to the nines and on the prowl. It’s humorous, really, to see how eager they are for the event to begin.