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Mandy held up the ceremonial top hat, and Catherine reached into it, her pink tongue peeking out at the corner of her mouth as her hand rummaged for a number. Drawing out a slip of paper, Catherine brought the mic to her mouth. “Number seven?”
Kelsey glanced at Max. “That you?”
He shook his head, opening his hand to reveal his own number. “Eleven.”
“Oh.” He didn’t need to know the quick trip-hop her heart had done when she thought he was about to go up there to be bid upon.
A fair-haired man, quite tall and dressed in a dark blazer and blue jeans that clutched compact buttocks made his way up to the stairs; he exchanged quiet words with the two ladies there, Catherine holding the mic away as they talked. Then he climbed the stairs slowly, turning about halfway up, his hand on the bannister.
He was an attractive enough man, but clean-shaven—something that generally left her cold. Still, she was sure his strong jaw and piercing eyes behind stylish steel-rimmed glasses were likely to get him plenty of attention.
“This is Liam. Graduate student in our architecture and urban planning program.” Catherine surveyed the crowd. “Opening bids?”
The numbers rose quickly, two girls up front—freshmen both, and barking out numbers fast and furiously—seeming intent on competing for him.
“She was just coming onto you to fuck with me, you know,” Kelsey said as they looked on. “Trying to make me jealous, or something.”
“Is this your way of telling the old dude not to get too full of himself?”
Kelsey snorted softly. “Maybe… I don’t know. Just—women do shit for weird reasons. That’s all.”
“I’m learning that better every single day.”
She elbowed him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know.” He smiled at her. “Pain in my ass though you are, I do pick up a tip or two, corralling you.”
She was glad he couldn’t see her little shudder at his use of the word corralling, nor did he know the effect it was having between her thighs.
Ropes and pens. Gruff, mean cowboys. Tags hanging from new piercings. Brands…
Shut up, idiot.
“Did it work?”
She peered up at him. “Excuse me?”
“I said—did it work? Did she successfully fuck with you?”
“It’s not like we’re… going out, or something.” Kelsey forced a tiny laugh. “What’s there for me to be jealous about, you know?”
“Are you intentionally not answering my question?”
“I don’t… of course she didn’t make me jealous!”
One of the girls directly in front of them glanced back at her, and Kelsey cringed realizing she had said that a lot louder than she should have.
Max didn’t reply to her though, the crowd suddenly cheering as Catherine announced the final winner, the girl moving up the stairs toward the waiting Liam.
“That’s Mila. Freshman girl,” Kelsey said into his ear as the cheering began to die down.
“What the…” Max’s shoulders tightened.
Mila had put a set of cuffs around Liam’s extended hands, and the girl led him down the stairs. Liam had the good graces to smile and laugh along with it, but he was blushing slightly.
“By tradition,” Catherine intoned, beaming as she looked at the girl leading the tall man away, “the auctioned male must do whatever he’s told for the next twenty-four hours by the woman who wins him.”
The throng erupted with hoots, whistles, and ribald laughter.
