breast.
"Everyone knows that someone wearing one of these white corsages is one of the bachelors," Sam explained. "You should mingle and not spend more than a minute or two with anyone. If you're spending too much time with someone, Bernard will pull you away. You can spend a little bit longer with a group, but you need to mingle."
"Got it," I said.
"Make sure when you meet someone you offer your name. You'll get asked a lot of questions. Use your judgment in answering them, but please don't lie. It's better to refuse to answer questions that are too personal." I nodded.
"If someone gets out of hand, Bernard will deal with them."
"Right."
She smiled at me. "Thank you, Pamela. Try to have a nice time. Please don't hate me."
I patted her hand. "This will be fun, Sam."
At that point, Bonnie came over. We gave each other careful hugs, then she pulled away. "You look ravishing." She sighed. "I don't think my two hundred dollar bid is going to do me any good."
"Why would you pay for a date with me, Bonnie? We already go to the club together three times a week."
She smiled. "For the goodnight kiss."
I laughed. "You wouldn't like kissing me," I told her. "I taste like straight girl."
"I know," she said. "Straight girls taste especially sweet."
Pamela hugged Bonnie and pinned a boutonniere on her. She looked stunning. "Why a tux instead of a dress? Won't that put off the bidders?"
No one said anything right away, then Bonnie said, "Naw. There are a few gay women in the crowd. They'll bid on me." She paused. "But you'll bring in more than I do. Ready?"
"I guess."
She turned to her handler, a fabulously-dressed man whose name I hadn't caught. He looked just as delectable as Bernard. "Lead the way," she told him.
Bernard and I followed after Bonnie and her handler, stepping through a set of double doors at the back of the convention hall.
"Showtime," Bonnie said, looking over her shoulder at me.
I was suddenly nervous. I turned to Bernard. "What am I doing?"
"Helping a friend out," he said quietly. "And helping a very good charity. Don't worry, honey, Uncle Bernard is here." He patted my hand. I smiled weakly.
I suddenly felt very self-conscious. Who was I to think anyone would want to pay money to have a date with me. I couldn't keep a guy for more than a few weeks, and while I was somewhat picky about who I'd go out with, I was usually willing to give almost anyone one date, if he asked nicely and wasn't a jerk. Why would someone pay for that when they could have it just for the asking?
I stood in the doorway, staring out at the crowd.
"Bernard-"
"Step forward now, Pamela," he said. "Don't think about that. Mingle. Meet people. Say hello."
"I'm going to feel like a piece of meat."
"I was one of the bachelors last year," he said. "And I'd never had more fun. Try to enjoy it."
And then he pulled me deeper into the room, and I got a chance to look around.
We had entered in the back of the room near the corner. To our left was the stage where, I presumed, the auction would be held. They didn't have a sign that said "auction block" but they may as well have. I looked around for the slave cells, but I didn't see those, either. I commented on that to Bernard. He laughed.
Along the long wall to the right of us, heading from the back corner next to us almost all the way to the front corner were tables, and on the tables were the items available for the silent auction.
The rest of the room was filled with people milling about.
This wasn't the largest room at the convention center, but it wasn't small. "How many people are here?" I asked Bernard.
"Several hundred," he said. "We sold a total of five hundred tickets, plus figure another 35 or 40 helping to host the event, if you count the bachelors and their handlers. Not everyone is here yet."
I looked at the people. Attire was all over the board. I saw other people dressed exceedingly well, including some older women wearing very expensive jewelry and gowns. At the
"Everyone knows that someone wearing one of these white corsages is one of the bachelors," Sam explained. "You should mingle and not spend more than a minute or two with anyone. If you're spending too much time with someone, Bernard will pull you away. You can spend a little bit longer with a group, but you need to mingle."
"Got it," I said.
"Make sure when you meet someone you offer your name. You'll get asked a lot of questions. Use your judgment in answering them, but please don't lie. It's better to refuse to answer questions that are too personal." I nodded.
"If someone gets out of hand, Bernard will deal with them."
"Right."
She smiled at me. "Thank you, Pamela. Try to have a nice time. Please don't hate me."
I patted her hand. "This will be fun, Sam."
At that point, Bonnie came over. We gave each other careful hugs, then she pulled away. "You look ravishing." She sighed. "I don't think my two hundred dollar bid is going to do me any good."
"Why would you pay for a date with me, Bonnie? We already go to the club together three times a week."
She smiled. "For the goodnight kiss."
I laughed. "You wouldn't like kissing me," I told her. "I taste like straight girl."
"I know," she said. "Straight girls taste especially sweet."
Pamela hugged Bonnie and pinned a boutonniere on her. She looked stunning. "Why a tux instead of a dress? Won't that put off the bidders?"
No one said anything right away, then Bonnie said, "Naw. There are a few gay women in the crowd. They'll bid on me." She paused. "But you'll bring in more than I do. Ready?"
"I guess."
She turned to her handler, a fabulously-dressed man whose name I hadn't caught. He looked just as delectable as Bernard. "Lead the way," she told him.
Bernard and I followed after Bonnie and her handler, stepping through a set of double doors at the back of the convention hall.
"Showtime," Bonnie said, looking over her shoulder at me.
I was suddenly nervous. I turned to Bernard. "What am I doing?"
"Helping a friend out," he said quietly. "And helping a very good charity. Don't worry, honey, Uncle Bernard is here." He patted my hand. I smiled weakly.
I suddenly felt very self-conscious. Who was I to think anyone would want to pay money to have a date with me. I couldn't keep a guy for more than a few weeks, and while I was somewhat picky about who I'd go out with, I was usually willing to give almost anyone one date, if he asked nicely and wasn't a jerk. Why would someone pay for that when they could have it just for the asking?
I stood in the doorway, staring out at the crowd.
"Bernard-"
"Step forward now, Pamela," he said. "Don't think about that. Mingle. Meet people. Say hello."
"I'm going to feel like a piece of meat."
"I was one of the bachelors last year," he said. "And I'd never had more fun. Try to enjoy it."
And then he pulled me deeper into the room, and I got a chance to look around.
We had entered in the back of the room near the corner. To our left was the stage where, I presumed, the auction would be held. They didn't have a sign that said "auction block" but they may as well have. I looked around for the slave cells, but I didn't see those, either. I commented on that to Bernard. He laughed.
Along the long wall to the right of us, heading from the back corner next to us almost all the way to the front corner were tables, and on the tables were the items available for the silent auction.
The rest of the room was filled with people milling about.
This wasn't the largest room at the convention center, but it wasn't small. "How many people are here?" I asked Bernard.
"Several hundred," he said. "We sold a total of five hundred tickets, plus figure another 35 or 40 helping to host the event, if you count the bachelors and their handlers. Not everyone is here yet."
I looked at the people. Attire was all over the board. I saw other people dressed exceedingly well, including some older women wearing very expensive jewelry and gowns. At the
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