I lay in the bathtub, watching steam rise from the warm water. I should have felt relaxed, but I did not. I waited apprehensively. Nothing could calm my nerves. Not the dozen candles that lit the bathroom. Not even the New Age CD that filled the room with the comforting sound of the ocean washing against the shore.
The door opened and Mrs. Hanson, my 4th grade teacher, walked into the bathroom. A rose blush on her neck spread slowly up to her cheeks. Neither of us could look the other in the eye. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. How ironic that it should be her of all people, I thought. Is this really happening?
It was definitely not what I had in mind when I had agreed to be in the Bachelor Auction. They hold one every year at the local Elks Club, all proceeds to benefit the Chanute Regional Hospital. I happened to be back in Chanute by chance, in fact, helping my parents move Grandma Stella into town after the death of Grandpa Earl.
My father Tom was a longtime member of the Elks lodge. He had talked me into volunteering to be one of the bachelors. What would he say now, I wondered, as I looked at Mrs. Hanson in her bathrobe. One part of the Elks mission is to serve the people. Is this what I'm doing?
The robe she was clutching was pale blue in color. With a deep sigh, she undid the ties and let it fall open. I drew in my breath. It wasn't so much her full pendulous breasts as the fact that the woman was entirely devoid of body hair.
Glancing down at herself, Mrs. Hanson said in a nervous voice, "I shaved it off myself, for tonight. Isn't that the way you young fellas like it now?"
"Usually. But most of us can't be choosy." She had full puffy labia, the largest I had ever seen. Not that I have seen very many, to tell the truth.
For some reason I thought back to the auction. I recalled standing before the audience, feeling clothed and yet naked at the same time. All those women, their eyes roaming lasciviously over me. It was unnerving to say the least.
"Okay, ladies," Paul Weintraub had said, "We're offerin' for bids David Kenner here, good-lookin' fella if I may say so, 'n a college boy at that. Ain't a finer specimen in Chanute. Now, who'll start the bidding at $75?"
"$75!" yelled Darcy Schultz, a twenty-something divorcee. Most participants, myself included, assumed that I would end up with Darcy. It was about the best I could hope for.
"A hundred!" cried Carlene Jacobson.
"Now, Carlene," Mr. Weintraub had grinned, "you're not allowed to bid, on account o' you bein' a married woman. Gotta follow the rules here, ladies."
"I'd be too much woman for him anyway!" cackled Mrs. Jacobson. That got the biggest laugh of the night.
Darcy and Pam Moyer, a local realtor, got into a brisk bidding war that drove the price of me up to $175. Both women seemed reluctant to bid more. Then came a voice from near the side of the room.
"I'll bid $200." It was Mrs. Hanson.
Everyone looked to see who had spoken. There was a wave of laughter and catcalls at this unexpected bidder. But she only smiled as if it were all part of the game.
Mr. Weintraub held his hand over his eyes to see who had bid, then chuckled. "Well now, Mrs. Hanson, you've got a few years on this young fella, but I suppose that ain't no reason why you can't join in. $200 it is!"
With renewed determination, Darcy bid $225. But when Mrs. Hanson quietly said $250 almost immediately, Darcy made no reply. Just like that, I belonged to the older woman. There was another titter of nervous laughter then. But a part of me was relieved. With a nice proper matron like Mrs. Hanson, our "date" would be over by nine o'clock. Or so I thought. Mrs. Hanson now approached the bathtub. Still struggling to breathe, she murmured "Oh Jeez!" and let the robe fall to the floor. Now naked, she adroitly stepped into the tub, sinking down into the water. As her legs slid past mine, we both caught our breath at the feel of our bodies touching. Neither of us was in control any more. Events had been set into motion. Now we were at the point of no return, helpless to avert the inevitable.
It had been the option of the winning bidder to take her bachelor on a date if she chose. Our date had started innocently enough. Being a good sport, I dressed in a blazer and tie and met Mrs. Hanson for dinner at Buffalo Station, which passes for a fancy restaurant out here in the prairie boondocks. We reminisced about school days. I was now a senior at the University of Kansas, majoring in math education. We talked about the philosophy of teaching; the rewards and frustrations of that calling.
It was fun. Both of us were perfectly relaxed, as if she were a doting aunt, I her favorite nephew. But that changed as we shared a slice of strawberry cheesecake for dessert. Now suddenly nervous, Mrs. Hanson looked at me intently. Taking a deep breath, she said, "David, I don't want our little date to be over after I pay the check here."
"No?"
"No. The latch on the gate in my privacy fence will be open tonight, and so will my patio door."
I looked questioningly at her; then, my eyes widened in comprehension.
There was a long silence. "Yes," she said quietly.
"But, Mrs. Hanson.."
There was only one word that could have persuaded me, and she spoke it. "Please?"
When the teacher asks you to do something, you must mind her. I was always taught that.
By the time I had stepped through the patio door into her living room, Mrs. Hanson had already undressed and was wearing the blue robe. Even more nervous than I, she handed me another robe, saying, "I've got the bathtub ready. You can change into this robe in the guest bedroom, and then I want you to get into the tub."
"Yes Ma'm."
"David, for heaven's sake, it's been ten years since I was your teacher. And besides I have a Christian name that you can use."
"What is it?" I honestly didn't know.
"Donna."
So now we sat in the tub, Donna and me. She slid forward, lathered her hands with herbal soap, and began to rub my arms and shoulders and chest. For the first time a sort of ironic grin came to her face.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"I have a pretty good hunch."
Donna looked away at the candles, then back to me. "My youngest, LeAnne moved out last fall, she's a freshman at K-State, you know. And Brandi's been in college for two years. Tim had that awful stroke, 'n passed away a year ago. So now for the first time in my life I'm by myself."
"Yes, Ma'm."
"David, will you please quit saying that!"