Auction Night 2024 750 Word

Auction Night - Joanne wouldn't cheat on her husband, would she?

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750 Word Project 2024

. There are 750 words below this line. ++++++++

Joanne walked into the hotel ballroom she'd booked for the charity auction. She should be with her husband but Frank's flight from Chicago to Houston was delayed. He wouldn't be back until late morning.

If she hadn't been one of the organizers and a prominent member, Joanne, might not have come. But she had bought a fabulous dress just for this event. It pushed up her breasts and hugged every contour of her body. She couldn't wear any underwear under it; lines would show. It was sparkly and made her feel sexy.

She felt a little exposed without her husband. He'd known about this for months. He hadn't seen the dress. She envisioned teasing him all evening. At home, he would take it off her and do what he liked.

"Thank god you're here!" She heard a voice behind her. "Two women dropped out. They were exposed to Covid and running a fever."

Joanne had come up with a new idea for the auction. She suggested auctioning some single women who were patrons, to men as their dinner companions. Only four women were willing, now two were sick. That wasn't enough.

"I asked Rita to help. She's by herself so she agreed. Since your husband isn't here..."

Joanne knew what was coming.

"Would you consider..."

"I couldn't. I'm ten years older than them. No one will bid on me. That would be so embarrassing."

"People are asking about the beautiful woman in the sexy dress."

"I'm married."

"So? You'll eat dinner with a benefactor and dance a little. You won't leave the room with him," she said. "Please, it

was

your idea." She knew that was coming. "There's been a lot of chatter about it. People will be disappointed. Happy people bid more."

"OK. I'll do it." How could she have agreed? She drank two glasses of champagne quickly and grabbed two more before stepping behind the curtain.

She was the last woman to be "put on the block".

The first woman was a perky twenty-three-year-old. The minimum bid was $100. She "sold" for $700. The second wasn't much older and went for $500. Rita, the other last-minute "volunteer" was in her early thirties.

Joanne could barely hear the auctioneer; her heart pounded in her ears. She was forty; no one was going to bid on her. She'd just hear crickets out there.

Joanne was pushed towards the stage. She walked out; bright lights stung her eyes. She heard "$100" and inside screamed, "Hallelujah". Then, "$150; $200; $400; going once, twice, $800". Nothing made sense. "Sold for $800."

Something was wrong. Offstage she met David, the stupid man who spent $800 on her. He was handsome, fortyish, tall, and well-built. Joanne hugged him.

"Thank you, David."

"I'm not sure why, but you're welcome." He smiled at her. "I believe they're serving dinner. Shall we find our seats?" She stumbled and David caught her arm.

"I may have had a little champagne."

They found the table. David held her chair and then sat beside her.

"Why did you bid on me?" she asked. "The others were younger and prettier."

"Younger but what conversation could they provide? And you make that dress look stunning."

The dinner was delicious and the conversation pleasant. A band played between dinner and the main auction. They danced; he was easy to follow. Frank hadn't danced with her in years.

"Should we go to the patio for some air?" David slurred. He'd been drinking too.

She grabbed a bottle of champagne. They talked and drank on the patio. Joanne couldn't remember how many glasses she'd had, but she felt wonderful. The auction was successful; she looked so fabulous that men wanted to "buy" her company for dinner and a handsome man "bought her". She spun around and lost her balance. Her companion caught her before she hit the ground. Their lips touched and then their tongues.

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It was noon when she opened her eyes. She had no clothes on; neither did he. Her brain wasn't functioning properly. It took seconds before she understood that she was on top of the sheets; longer to put together that he wasn't her husband; even longer before she screamed and covered herself.

She remembered the auction, the patio, drinking, falling, a kiss, the front desk, the elevator, a room, her sparkly dress, and a warm man.

"How did we..." he exclaimed. "Did we..." He covered himself.

"I can't remember...but maybe."

"My wife's going to kill me."

"Wife? You're married too?"