"I can't believe you volunteered for this," complained Marissa, unloading the dishwasher with a purposeful and noisy frustration.
"Oh, baby, it's nothing. It's for a good cause," I responded with a sigh, standing a few feet behind her, and debating if I should grab her hips to comfort.
"Billy, you just want to flirt. How would you like it if it were me doing it?" she countered, still refusing to face me.
"I wouldn't care," I answered. "And you get to be there to keep an eye on me."
The point of contention was a charity bachelor auction my company was having and I volunteered for. I was a "bachelor" because I was not married, although Marissa and I have been dating as an official couple for almost two years. She was aware and perpetually annoyed that I was a bit of a flirt, admittedly by practicing a lifetime of objectifying women. Let's just say that before I met Marissa, I spent a fair amount of time chatting up the ladies and tossing dollars at strippers. What can I say? I love a woman's body.
The company I worked for was fairly small - only about 50 people - and primarily staffed with women as it was woman-owned by Ms. Dawn Pederson. She was an entrepreneur; a smart and savvy business mind who took this startup from her garage five years ago and made it into a moneymaking cybersecurity operation. Ms. Pederson was certainly a feminist, hence she mostly hired women to help promote the advancement of women in the workplace. The company was about 75% female. I, of course, did not mind that at all.
To help champion the woman empowerment movement, she was holding this bachelor auction to raise funds for charities supporting this cause. The money raised, through an admission fee and the auction bidding, would all be donated. The person with the winning bid for each bachelor would get an all-expense paid "date" with their bought man.
Thus, this was the point of contention Marissa had with me participating. I would have to go on a dinner date with a woman who wasn't her. I could see how this could be bothersome, but it was all out in the open, and I wasn't cheating. OK, granted; I loved the idea of a bunch of women bidding for my time, and then being able to safely go out with them. I mean, it's for charity, right? So, yes; I was feeding my permanently hungry male ego.
I eased up to Marissa's side, forcing her to look at me and I rationally tried to explain my point. "Listen, baby, I am not going to do anything stupid. I am doing this to look good for the owner. You know how she is." Marissa wasn't buying it; she just crossed her arms and pouted.
"Besides, who knows who will win the bid. Probably someone absolutely hideous. Would that make you feel better?" I offered with an obligatory smile.
Marissa turned and confronted me, thrusting an accusatory finger in my face. "I don't trust you, Billy," and she pivoted and walked away.
Sigh.
I have been through this before. Many times. Marissa is the jealous type and I suppose I do nothing to allay her fears. Anyway, too late now. I already committed. She'll get over it.
When the day came, it was a beautiful Saturday in April; the last chill of March had surrendered to the conquering warmth of Spring. It was an outdoor event, and besides the auction, it included a few guest speakers and a BBQ lunch. Thankfully, they would be serving alcohol, and it was adults-only. This had the promise of a good day.
What was great about it being outdoors in such accommodating weather meant that it was casual. For us bachelors up for bid, we therefore did not have to wear suits or anything formal like I had seen before in more conventional bachelor auctions. We could wear shorts, a short-sleeved shirt, sneakers; nice and easy. I sported a tight-fitting polo to show off a bit. I was in pretty damn good shape; six-one, 195, and a flat stomach. I knew I looked better than most of these guys I work with.
There had to be close to a hundred people there. It was a women-only event, save for the half-dozen bachelors to be auctioned off. This, I thought, was awesome. As we mingled in this sea almost void of testosterone, I encountered many women from work, as well as a number who came from outside our company. If Marissa were not here, these would be very happy hunting grounds. Quite a few lasses were pretty damn sexy in their tight shorts and tank tops, as they welcomed the April sun onto their flesh. I imagined all these women bidding on me. Love it!
The event kicked off with Ms. Pederson doing some introductory comments and then a couple more guest speakers from other women's empowerment groups had their say, then a woman CEO from another company, and blah blah blah. This was probably the worst part, having to stand there and fake smile and politely applaud at all the women-are-great rah-rah shit. I amused myself by discretely appraising the attendees for the hot ones.
The whole time, Marissa stayed close by me, always having her arm wrapped in mine to show possession. I didn't mind; I liked showing off that my girlfriend was beautiful and shapely, projecting that perhaps I was something special. So as the morning progressed and all through lunch, I used this opportunity to accelerate my usual charming self, abundantly smiling and strategically complimenting those I met. I perceived I was endearing, although the drinks may have blurred my interpretation a bit. I certainly did not lack any confidence. For good measure, I'd give Marissa an attentive little kiss every now and then.
Marissa, however, was more than aware of all the lovely offerings and my wandering eye. At one point, she pulled me aside to remind me to behave.
"Billy, stop drooling," she scoffed. I just smiled at her and pulled her close to me, looked her in the eye while I moved my hands down the back of her shorts, grabbing handfuls of her tight little butt. A soft grin grew on her lips until I ruined it by saying, "I can't help if it these girls are hot." She pushed me back and turned to storm away, but I was able to give her ass one last good-natured smack.
Shortly after lunch, an announcement was made for the auction to begin in 15 minutes, so I hustled backstage with the other five guys. "Backstage" is being kind; the stage was nothing more than a makeshift plywood platform about 16 feet wide and 10 feet deep, a foot high and lined with red, white, and blue bunting. A portable PA system sat to the far right. A large oak tree at the rear of the platform provided some cover, where me and the other men congregated.
I exchanged handshakes and high fives with my comrades, who I all knew from work. My competition, so to speak, were all pretty good looking and in decent shape. We joked around about getting the largest bid and we ended up making a modest side bet for who would get the highest number. I had never done this before, but I liked my chances. Game on.
We were put into a marching order and I struck lucky and was going up last. I felt this was an advantage since I would know what all the winning bids were before me, and I was hoping as the auction went on, the ladies would get a little crazier in their bids as the options ran out. And their drinking continued. I was also hoping all my pre-auction schmoozing would pay off.
It kicked off with some techno music being played through the PA, with Ms. Pederson being the auctioneer. Each of the first three guys went up in sequence, and the bidding seemed lackluster. The women were a bit unresponsive, but these guys all looked awkward and uncomfortable, and they didn't work the crowd at all. The highest bid out of all three appeared low at only $150. Pretty boring.
Me and the last two guys, Andy and Jack, were talking trash to each other. Given the performances we just saw, we each thought we had a shot of getting the highest bid. Andy was up next; a great looking guy and in solid shape. "Watch and learn, boys," snapped Andy, and with a loud "wooo!", made his way down the platform. In an exaggerated strut, he pulled his shirt off over his head and began flexing in a variety of stereotypical and comical muscle poses. As he pranced about in his khaki shorts and sneakers, the crowd got a bit wild. And the bidding went higher.
All said and done, Andy topped out at $300, and made one last muscle pose as he exited the stage. I have to admit, compared to the first three duds, it was nicely done. The ladies were primed.
Jack's turn. Jack was a enthusiastic kind of guy - super outgoing and likable - and he bounded on stage like a mountain lion. The bidding immediately began to escalate, owing to his winning smile and his flickering, blue eyes. As Ms. Pederson implored the crowd for a higher bid, Jack also whipped off his shirt. His tan and tone upper body was very well received based on all the hooting.
After the initial positive response, the bidding was stuck at $250, and sensing he was not going to top Andy, he whipped off his belt and swung it over his head. Hearing the favorable reaction from the crowd, he began gyrating his hips as he slowly undid the top button of his shorts and started pulling the zipper down.
"Come on, ladies!" yelled Ms. Pederson, "give him some love!"
The crowd shouted their encouragement, and Jack peeled the flaps back at the top of his shorts. Although he did not pull them down, you could clearly see his bright red underwear and the top of his pubic bulge. And that was the magic he needed. As he teased the audience by slightly pulling his shorts down a little more before stopping, the bidding climbed to $400. Clever bastard. He knew how to work these ladies.
Jack turned so his back was to his rallying audience and teased that he was about to pull down his shorts completely The crowd of women was madly cheering, and he slid his shorts down very quickly and briefly, giving everyone a glimpse of his ass framed in his underwear. His routine was very effective, as the bidding peaked at $450. Before he got off the stage, Jack looked back at me and challenged, "beat that, Billy!"
Now it was my turn, and I had my work cut out for me. Fueled by competition and, of course, alcohol, I was called to the stage. I quickly downed the last of my drink, stepped onto the back of the platform, and strutted forward, arms in the air while the music pumped away. As Ms. Pederson made my introduction, I immediately pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, strutting like a proud rooster. The ladies cheered for more and I was going to exploit this for all it's worth.
Despite the enthusiastic opening response, the bidding wasn't really moving as I had hoped and I was only at about $275. I figured it was time to go the extra mile, and I removed my belt and undid the button and zipper of my shorts, just like Jack did. Shamelessly stealing his routine, I zipped them down and then back up, and repeated in a big tease. I saw Marissa standing near the front, serious and arms folded, and gave her a wink and a smile. I wasn't going to let her foul mood and shitty attitude spoil this.
