A Good Time Was Had By All

Rachel barely had an opportunity to think as a ticket was thrust into her hand. Before she could glance at it, the ticket was snatched away by a smiling attendant.

The noise level inside the lobby was phenomenal. Rachel winced as she bumped into a frizzy-haired woman dressed in pink polyester.

"Excuse me!" she shouted, but the woman didn’t spare her a glance. A rough hand caught her by the forearm.

"Stick with me," Ronda shouted in Rachel’s ear. "It’s a bigger crowd than I expected."

"Why? What’s going on?"

"Only the sale of the century. It was so controversial I’m surprised the town council agreed."

Rachel tried her best to get a good look at the room. Other than the café tables and low lighting, the room was wall-to-wall women. Except for a few smiling men in monkey suits. At least most were dressed to the nines. A handful wore casual clothes while others appeared…well, provocative was the only word that came to mind. Come to think of it, why were these men here? She asked Ronda.

"Oh, honey, they’re not the hired help. They are this evening’s entertainment."

"We’re in a strip club?!"

"Put your eyes back in your head. And no, we’re not at a club. This is the assembly hall, theater, whatever you call it. These guys are the merchandise," Ronda said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Merchandise?" Rachel felt lost in the conversation. Why would…"An auction? A bachelor auction."

"O-oh yeah. Hey, maybe you’ll find Mister Right tonight."

Ronda guided them to a table on the far edge of the room. A bachelor auction. Finding Mister Right. Rachel wanted to turn down the music and explain to all within earshot that she didn’t want just any man. Only one would do.

"I think I’ll just go back to the Inn."

"Nope. C’mon Rachel, stay and watch the fun."

She allowed them to drag her down onto a chair. For now she was trapped.

*()*

"Aren’t you done yet? Let me in Carl."

Lorna paced back and forth before the restroom door. The second he’d agreed she’d rushed him out of the house and to the auditorium. No sense in giving him time for second thoughts.

"No, I am not finished," came the muffled, yet angry, reply. "And I have half a mind to never set foot outside this blasted door."

"Let’s do this the easy way. I can pick the lock you know. One of the many fringe benefits of having known you." Her words were met with silence. "I don’t mind whether you’re dressed or not ‘cause I’ve seen you in your undies too. Black is your color of choice I do believe. Shall I go on? Oh, have I mentioned we have an audience out here?" The door whipped open and she was dragged in. "I knew you’d see it my way."

"Have you no decency?"

"Not at the moment." She took in his haphazard appearance. "You’re not ready yet. For Pete’s sake, at least make an attempt Carl."

"What’s wrong with my appearance?"

"For one thing, your shirt’s not tucked."

"I like it that way."

"And it needs to be unbuttoned a bit more." She loosened a couple of buttons only to have him brush away her hands.

"Stop that."

"Most of the time you walk around at home all day with only a button or two done up. Show a little skin, some of that chest hair. Now, give me the brush."

He did so reluctantly. "Has this debacle already begun?"

"Yep. We’re up to fifteen at the moment. The women are going wild!"

"A big group then?"

"Would ya believe, standing room only. I’m really glad we charged admission. There, your hair is now presentable." She eyed him critically. "You’ll do…I suppose."

"Do? If I’ll only manage to ‘do’ then perhaps my services are not needed."

She leapt in front of the door. "Oh no you don’t Carl! You are going to bring us a thousand at least!"

"A thousand? A paltry thousand dollars? For me?

"Don’t look so offended," she laughed.

"I’m worth much more than a thousand measly dollars."

"Gee, looks like someone’s ego needs taken down a peg or two," she drawled. Why don’t you mingle with the other ‘items’ while I check on the show."

"You trust me?"

"Honor system Carl. I know you have some in there somewhere." She opened the door and fairly shoved him out of the tin can restroom. "Who knows, maybe you’ll be bought by a really nice lady."

*(*

With every thump of the music, Rachel felt more and more like a fool. This little adventure wasn’t the least bit of fun.

Around her women danced, letting loose with lusty catcalls whenever a new man was thrust onto the stage. Poor fellas—they didn’t stand a chance.

She rubbed her temples. Seats long forgotten, they’d been standing for what felt like hours. She’d also lost count of the bachelors. At least twenty had been presented; some willing, others reluctant and fearful. Even though the highest payout had been eight hundred dollars, a single man hadn’t tempted her. Not that she was looking. The crowd however, had shouted their approval each and every time. Thank her lucky stars, things like this never happened in Bay City.

"I think I’m going to leave!"

"What? Hey! They’ve got some one special saved for last. Can you believe this?"

No, Rachel thought as the crowd surged around her, blocking her quick exit.

*(*

Rarely in his life had Carl Hutchins felt nervous. After all, in his former career it did not pay to let one’s self fall prey to a fit of nerves. Oh no, he’d carried on as though his schemes and tricks were mere child’s play. He’d faced down death a dozen times without turning a hair. He’d been a man of steel—incapable of the foibles of a mere man.

If that was true, then why were his palms sweaty and his throat dry now?

"Ready Carl?"

"Do I look ready?"

"You look…green. Are you nervous?"

"Of course not."

Lorna gasped. "You are nervous. Ohmigod! I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it for myself."

"I’m pleased my situation amuses you. It is time to face the firing squad, eh?"

"Quit being so dramatic. And yes, only two more to go before it’s your turn. Tonight, you are the main attraction. Or I should say the ‘mane’ attraction."

Her teasing tone didn’t improve his mood. "At least this will all be over soon and we can go home." They both turned as the audience screamed with delight. "I don’t know what’s worse—subjecting myself to this degradation or the fact that it’s in front of familiar faces."

"Miss Scott, the librarian, is here," Lorna offered with a grin. "So is Phoe-be Fletch-er," she added in a singsong voice.

He groaned. "Have they…purchased…a gentleman?"

"Not yet. This could be your ‘lucky’ night."

"Number twenty-eight," called one of the Applettes. "Your turn Carl."

Lorna tugged him toward the stage. If she didn’t know better she’d swear he was digging in his heels.

"That young lady was leering at me."

"Steph was not leering at you," Lorna replied. "Just try to think of this as a novel experience Carl. One moment out of your life, a little time with a woman, that’s all it’ll be. Just go out there and be yourself. Better yet, be your old self."

He opened his mouth to send a tart reply her way, but she simply shoved him onto the stage. She winged a prayer heavenward that he wouldn’t fall flat on his face.

*(*

The blinding lights robbed him of his chance to scan the sea of feminine faces. At his appearance the enthusiastic cheers only grew in volume. His stomach dropped to his knees.

Lorna, he decided, was going to pay dearly for this.

He listened as the announcer wound down her spiel and began the bidding.

"Five hundred," he heard from Louellen Scott, the town’s timid little librarian.

"Five hundred and fifty!"

"Six hundred!"

"Seven!"

By the time they hit a thousand, he was feeling more at ease. After a bid of eleven hundred, he grabbed the announcer’s mike. Such a small amount would never do.

"Ladies," he said smoothly, lowering his voice to a purr. "I know you can do so much better. Remember my hearts, this," he gestured at himself, "is all for charity." He knew he’d kick himself for that later.

More hoots and requests for him to ‘shake it’ made him smile. "Let’s hear twelve hundred." A sweet pretty thing raised her hand. "Twelve hundred, thank you darling. However, a bid of thirteen would help ease this poor man’s broken heart."

Words of sympathy floated in the air. He definitely felt better. This wasn’t so bad.

*(*

Rachel elbowed her way through the throng of rowdy women. The ever-increasing noise slammed against her ears—she’d be sick if she didn’t get outside and she just couldn’t make such a spectacle of herself in front of this many people. Not that anyone would notice since their collective attention was focused on the prime male meat parading across the stage.

She nudged past a woman dressed in the shortest shorts she’d ever seen on someone over the age of…well, she would never wear something like that in public.

The double door exit stood only ten feet away, just a few more steps and she’d be free!

Later, in the moments she allowed herself to ponder why, she’d never be able to say why she turned toward the stage. Why her eyes strayed from her safe escape. Maybe it was the crowd’s roar. Maybe, but Rachel much preferred the notion that Fate had played a hand. Whatever it was, she turned back for one last time and…

Carl.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Her palms began to sweat. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention at the mere thought of him, the sight of him.

It was really him.

In the safety of the darkened auditorium, she allowed herself the luxury of a long, leisurely stroll up his body. Her eyes traveled from bottom to top, enjoying the journey. His casual clothing unsettled her a bit. Seeing him so informal was like imagining him in jeans. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing…He’d allowed his hair to grow out again. She liked that.

Carl’s cheeks flushed red, but he was definitely chatting the ladies up. Her old friend the green-eyed monster sidled up next to her as she came crashing back to reality. Around her large amounts of money were being offered for the man on the stage. Her man. Of course, she wasn’t too sure she could still lay claim to him. He might not feel the way she still did. His heart might not belong to her anymore. No more quibbling with her thoughts, she had a choice to make.

If she were smart, she’d just turn around and walk right out the door. Smart thing, she told herself, smart thing.

Gulping down a breath of stale air, Rachel did the only thing she could.