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“She, who?”
“That chick that the rumor was going around that she was going to buy all of us.” Winger acts like I should be up on this.
“Except it ain’t no fucking rumor,” Tank says.
“So one person buys all of us. What’s it matter?”
“Did you look at the picture of her on SmorgasSmut? She’s the tiniest, most fuckable little thing I’ve ever seen and she planned ahead to buy us. Tell me you didn’t check her out.” Winger leads me to the edge of the stage.
Tank’s staying his broody self but there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes that I haven’t seen in years.
“You know how I feel about this. I’m good with serving my country. I’m good with the MC helping out in ways law enforcement can’t. I’m happy with volunteering my time as a firefighter. But you sound like you’re ready to fill her with baby sauce. Our commitment is only to…”
Winger pulls back the curtain. “The rosy-cheeked beauty—“
I wave him off, not wanting anything to interfere with me soaking her in. The room is packed but she shines above the rest.
“She won both of you? I hope she’s thinking what I’m thinking.” I don’t want to be left out of whatever she plans with Winger and Tank. And I hope it involves us worshipping her.
Winger asks, “And what would that be?”
“I’m not going to disgrace the high school with the things I want to do to her.”
Tank shakes his head. “So it’s not just me?”
I’m stunned by his admission. “I thought you swore women off years ago.”
“I did until I laid eyes on her.”
“So you think she’s bidding on us for more than wrapping presents?”
“I think we can talk her into it.” Winger’s never short on confidence, and while I question if he made the proper assessment here, I’m willing to try.
The fact that she’s choosing all of us rallies something primal inside of me. Part of me wants her all to myself like in a wicked bad way, but part of me thinks she deserves all of us.
I head onto the stage and give Jefferson a nod. He monologues through my intro, and the bidding starts. I lock eyes with little moneybags out there in the audience. I don’t know where the hell she got enough money to win all three of us, but I’m hoping this is real. Not one of those things like you hear on an eBay bid where people run it up super high and then can’t actually pay.
What the fuck? How can I fathom letting her pay? I want to be with her, and not out of a charity obligation.
She lowers her bidder paddle and I wonder if maybe she actually does have an upper limit and just ran out. I can’t bear the thought of another woman winning me, so I shake my head hoping she’ll catch on that she needs to keep bidding. I can’t let Jefferson close out the bid. Not that he is, since he’s still rambling numbers.
When I shake my head, Moneybags lifts her paddle, the furrow in her brow relaxing when I nod my approval.
I’ve got enough cash stashed away, I’ll pay for myself. But she doesn’t know that.
I jump off the stage with my sights set on her.
Murmurings rumble through the room, and gasps erupt around me, but I only have eyes for number thirteen. Nothing unlucky about that. I snake my way between the tables, barely paying attention as people clear the path for me to pass between them.
In this packed house, it’s like I’ve manifested my place next to her when I see an empty chair, possibly the only empty chair in the whole place. People are standing along the back and the sides.
I lean down to whisper in her ear that I’ll foot the bill, but she giggles and flinches as my beard touches her jaw and neck. I drag my tongue across my lips and instead of telling her I’ll pay for it, I say, “Want to find out what else I can tickle?”
She raises her paddle and I let my lips brush her cheek as the bidding resumes. Every inclination I had that she’s perfect is on fire inside of me now that I’ve touched her and smelled her, which brings up concern…I smell alcohol.
Come to think of it, her actions are ever so slightly slowed. What do I make of that? Nothing for now.
I grab the empty chair, spin it around backward, straddle it, and sit with my knee brushing the side of her thigh. Crossing my arms over the chair’s back, I lean forward. She takes another sip of her drink, but best I can tell there’s nothing left in the cup.
