Bargain

(continued from Monday’s blog)

At first it looked like Serenity might just get her man/ride home. Competing bids were scattered and half-hearted. She got the impression this bachelor might not be too popular with the crowd.

Why not? He was handsome enough to turn a girl’s head. Not a shorty, not too tall. His dark face appeared blemish-free. He didn’t look too thrilled to be up on stage, like he’d only entered the auction on a bet and now regretted it. His reluctance might have communicated itself to the women, accounting for the spotty bids.

Which made him perfect for Serenity. A ride home from a man who didn’t want to date her was exactly what she wanted right now.

She topped a bid with her own for $300. No one else spoke up. Obeying gestures from the drag queen auctioneer, the man on stage struck a pose. It didn’t help. Serenity had to squelch her urge to hop up and down. She was going to make it out of the shifter club unscathed!

“Three-fifty.”

Crud. Serenity glanced over to where the bid had come from. A hard-faced older woman in a tight cocktail dress and too much lipstick gazed at the man on stage with clear predatory intent in her gemstone eyes. She licked her overglossed lips. Even at a distance, the bachelor's gulp was visible.

Serenity’s normally weak temper suddenly flared. Not my ride, you don’t. “Four hundred.”

“Five hundred,” the woman instantly countered. She snarled at Serenity, with a growl and teeth showing and everything. In her case, “cougar” was probably literal.

No way, Serenity thought. No way she was spending the night here. “Five-fifty.”

“Six.”

Double-crud with an egg on top. She’d gone over budget at $400. The man on stage stared at her beseechingly.

“One thousand.”

Serenity jumped, with an audible, “Eek!” The bid came from right at her shoulder, and the voice was undeniably male.

She risked a glance at her new competitor. Skyscraper-tall, dark-haired, dusky-skinned, wrapped in a silk suit that sneered at off-the-rack. He grinned down at her and winked.

Serenity slumped. I’ve been bidding on a gay man. In public. My life is now officially over.

The bachelor on the block flared to life. “Guri!” That was either a curse or the bidder’s name. He made it sound like both. “This travesty is for the women only!”

“I’m trying to get you a suitable date. Just stand there and look desirable.”

The bidders howled with laughter. Serenity wanted to sink into the floor. She opted for slinking away.

The tall man caught her arm and held her in place. “It’s all right,” he assured her. “Bid as high as you like. I’ll cover it. Sanjay is my brother. I want him to go to a lovely maiden, not some dried-up hag.”

Lipstick Lady overheard. She snarled at the man like a panther. Serenity’s new benefactor snarled right back at her. Lipstick Lady backed off.

Serenity shrank as far from the man as his grip on her arm would allow. Runny eggs and bacon. Her pay pal was a predator. If the one on the stage was his brother, then that meant—

“Going once … going twice … SOLD for one thousand dollars to the girl with the panicked look on her face,” the drag queen cheerfully announced. “He’s all yours, chica. You might as well take off the bra right now. Save you both some time. Oooh, look who’s up next! He’s an EMT and former football star, with a hard head and an even harder—”

Serenity’s spinning head tuned out the rest of the spiel. She was now the proud owner of some kind of shifter. She let the tall ATM in the silk suit guide her off to the side, where her purchase waited beside a cashier.

Brothers. They were brothers. Good Lord, he’d just paid a thousand bucks. Would she have to go with both of them?

Her resolve steeled its spine. As long as they had a car. That was all that mattered. The rest she could figure out when the time came.

Serenity’s ride home was buttoning up his shirt. He didn’t appear any more comfortable than she felt. His brother shoved the two of them together and then abandoned them to pay the tab.

Okay, let’s get this over with. Serenity took in a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and looked her bachelor in the face.

Oh my.

For an alleged predator, he had the mildest eyes she’d ever seen. Not in color, though. That green was intense enough to blast paint off a truck, or resistance off a woman. His sudden smile matched his eyes, peaceful and reassuring while at the same time brutally lethal. He smoothly took her hand and kissed the back of it. Serenity made a little mewling sound.

“I am Sanjay Ghan,” her impulse purchase introduced himself. “And you … ” He regarded her hand. “Are very sweaty.”

“Sorry.” Serenity snatched her hand away and scrubbed it frantically against the butt of her dress. “I never bought anybody before. I’m Serenity.”

“Serenity.” His accent turned it into a song. A little shiver took her, that for once had nothing to do with her hair-trigger nerves. “How lovely. If I may ask … are you a deer? You’ve got that look about you.”

“A deer? No! I mean, no, I’m not, I’m not a shifter, I’m just here by accident. I’m human.”

“Human? That’s even better.” A smile exploded across his handsome face like an H-bomb. “Father will shit in his pants.”

“Uh, what?”

“Excuse me.” Sanjay’s brother returned to them. He was stuffing a wad of bills back into his wallet. Serenity’s eyes bugged at the thickness of it, and the visible denominations. He slipped the wallet into one pocket and his hand into the other. This hand came up with a set of car keys, which he handed to Sanjay. “I have to leave you now. There will be many ladies who will lose out in the bidding tonight. I must stay and console them. Take the car. I’m sure I can find a ride. Or a room. Or I’ll have someone come get me.” His grin and wink took in the two of them before he sauntered away. “Enjoy your date.”

Serenity gaped after him. They were rich? They had people who would come collect them if they called? She shook those thoughts off. They were also shapeshifters, species unknown, but in all likelihood predators, and she was a jumpy human girl whose date had just mistaken her for prey.

He had a car. Good enough.

“About that date,” she started. “All I really want is—”

Her bra strap slipped again. She reached for it. Sanjay’s hand stopped hers. He took the bra strap, slid it back up her shoulder and tucked it beneath her dress. His fingers left a trail like fire up the bare skin of her arm.

Serenity’s brain flatlined.

“Have you eaten? Would you like dinner?” he asked in his musical voice.

From somewhere in the outer reaches of the universe Serenity heard herself say, “Dinner sounds great.”

Impulse Buy

Today’s post refers back to an oldie but a goodie, this one here. It’s also a two-parter. The results will be posted next week, or Thursday if there’s enough demand.

# # #

Serenity Miller tugged at her bra strap. She never should have worn a bra tonight. Sure, it made her boobs stand up like puppies begging at the table, but the underwire was cutting a line into her skin and the one strap kept slipping down. All the perspiration wasn’t helping. She reached up to fuss with her hair, caught the action and forced her hand back down.

Of all the places to get dumped, a freaking shifter bar. God only knew how many “I’m lost, helpless and afraid” signals her sweat was blasting out to the clientele. The predators would sniff it and start circling. The herbivores would smell the predators and leave her to her fate. Just like Roger had, a half hour ago.

Of course he’d taken the car.

Now here she was, alone in a club in the middle of nowhere in a skimpy skintight dress and an ill-fitting bra, surrounded by wild animals and sweating up a storm. How would they fit all that on her tombstone? She’d need a billboard, at least.

Or a cab. But when she went to the bar to ask, the bartender told her, “No cabs, not at this time of night. We can rent you a room, if you like.” He glanced at her sagging bra strap and winked.

Serenity shivered. No thanks. She took refuge in the ladies’ room and locked herself in a stall. She sat on the throne while her mind raced and her heels clacked a rhythm on the tiles. She forced them to stillness. After a second one toe started tapping again.

No doubt about it, Mom must have been soaring on pain meds when she picked the name “Serenity” for her newborn. Maybe “Jitters” hadn’t looked pretty on the birth certificate.

She knew she couldn’t stay in here forever. Neither could she leave without a car. The exit from the Pleasure Club—the name right there should have tipped her off—led through the bar upstairs, where a visible bra strap would act on the rowdy clientele like an engraved invitation. There had to be a way out of this, one that didn’t involve meshing body parts with something inclined to sprout fur.

The restroom door opened. Serenity froze. Some female something, likely not human, in four-inch stilettos paused in front of a sink. Serenity held her breath. After a moment the door opened again. A woman’s eager voice shrilled, “C’mon, Jill, the auction’s starting!” The stilettos clicked rapidly over the floor, and the door thumped shut.

Auction?

Oh, duh, she thought a second later, once her brain finally registered the notice taped to the stall door right in front of her. The Interspecies Pleasure Club presents our Charity Bachelor Auction, with details in smaller type she didn’t bother to read. She vaguely recalled seeing it advertised both in the bar upstairs and in the club itself. She’d been too concerned with fussing over Roger to pay the advertisements any attention.

Who the hell brings their girl to a shifter bar to break up with her, and then leaves her there? The asswipe who’s already found someone else, that’s who. Triple bonus asswipe points to him for timing their date to coincide with the end of his new paramour’s work shift. The two had bolted out the door while Serenity was still processing his hasty, “We should see other people.”

At least they hadn’t ordered yet. He’d only left her paying for the drinks.

I hope she gives you rabies, Serenity thought. I hope she bites your nuts off. I hope you get fleas.

Beyond the door an amplified voice boomed something that was greeted by a thunder of feminine cheers. The show must have begun.

Suddenly she thought of a way she could get a ride home. One she could ditch without trouble or qualms once he delivered her to her door. Paid escorts had to do what you told them, right? One of those men parading around on stage had to be an herbivore or something equally harmless. A hedgehog or whatever. And anyway, the poster said the money was going to charity. She’d be doing something positive for the community.

Abandoning the sanctuary of the stall, Serenity gave her bra strap a last, desperate tug and burst out of the ladies’ room. She sucked in a full breath and headed for the stage.

Oh, runny eggs. That was one huge crowd of females packed around the stage. More predators than she was comfortable being downwind of, and quite a few of those firmly ensconced in the cougar age ranges. Even the herbie girls were eyeing the line of potential dates like Eve had the apple. Serenity swallowed hard and clutched her little clutch purse. Her $47.32 in cash wasn’t going to get her very far.

She let the first two men go without bidding because they were wolves. She could tell by the way they stalked across the stage, with their tight butts wagging like tails. She did not want to be in a car with a wolf. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

A pair of brunettes who looked like sisters snapped up bachelors #1 and #2. The four left the club in a pack, heads together and hands in each others’ back pockets. Hey, Serenity thought, whatever floats your boat. She returned her attention to the stage.

The third one came out shirtless. He had to be a horse. He had hair past his shoulders and shook it a lot. He also pawed the stage with one booted toe. Definite ride home.

Serenity bid up to $200—they’d take plastic, right? They’d better—but chickened out when a blonde in a cowboy hat started hissing at her. The horse-man went to the hissing blonde, and Serenity went into another spiral of despair.

C’mon, she told herself. Don’t let them intimidate you. You want to be stuck here all night? These bitches won’t do anything to you in public. You’ve got pepper spray.

The next one, she promised herself. Bid on the next one no matter what he is. Get him and get the hell out of here. Please please please let him be something harmless.

Okay, this was promising. Unlike the previous flannelphiles, #4 had a suit on, with the jacket and shirt open to reveal a smooth, firm-looking chest. He prowled to the center of the stage and stood there stiffly, squinting against the lights.

“Now here’s a sporty number,” the auctioneer said with an open leer. It appeared to be a woman in a sequined evening gown with pink hair teased into a ‘60s beehive, but the voice revealed “her” as a man. “Who wouldn’t want to put this racy tiger in her tank? Do I hear one hundred dollars?”

Serenity’s hand shot up before she could talk herself out of it. “One hundred.”

TO BE CONTINUED

The Riding of the Green

(The serial story will continue next week. Holidays take priority.)

Tasman Ghan kept a large calendar on his bedroom wall, and each morning he consulted it. Every American holiday had been circled in red, even the silly ones like Arbor Day. Thus forewarned, Tasman could steel himself against whatever madness his youngest brother Guri might choose to inflict on the family in the name of foreign traditions.

And still, each year, Guri somehow managed to surprise him.

This year’s surprise came in the form of a hearty, “Happy St. Patrick’s Day, faith and begamma!” and a frosty mug thrust into Tasman’s hand. He had not yet even had his morning tea. Tasman eyed the green, foamy liquid sloshing over the rim of the mug with healthy suspicion.

“Is this … beer?” he hazarded. “Is it supposed to be green?”

“It’s St. Patrick’s Day,” Guri said. “Everything is supposed to be green.”

“Ah. That explains your hair, then. Isn’t it a bit early in the day for beer?”

“Early?” Guri peered out the window. “Oh my. It’s daylight. It was dark when we started.”

“Let me guess,” Tasman said. “You and Sanjay.”

“Holidays never last long enough. We wanted to get an early start.”

“I’m sure.” Tasman carefully set his mug on the kitchen counter. “I will have green tea. Will that suffice?”

“As long as it’s green. Faith and begamma! Erin go broke!”

“I … ” Tasman stopped, at a loss.

“It’s what the Irish say,” Guri explained. “I assume the one phrase refers to gamma radiation. That’s what turned the Hulk green.”

“And Erin went broke buying the green beer?”

“Yes, exactly!” Guri took a swig from his mug. “As much as I miss Ravi, I’m glad we deal with you directly now. You understand American holidays so well.”

Tasman enjoyed a brief moment of envy for Ravi, currently home in India and safe from this country’s odd customs. Then Sanjay burst into the kitchen. He also sported a cap of green hair. “It worked! The potion worked!”

The words “potion” and “worked” spoken together never boded well for anyone. Tasman reached for the mug, just in case. “I know I shouldn’t ask … ”

“The potion wasn’t for us. We bought it from that Egyptian cat at the coffee shop. Come look!”

Now I know why Ravi fled for home, Tasman thought. He took a bracing gulp of beer. It was actually quite good. Fortified, he followed his brothers out the front door.

Not even green beer had prepared him for Guri’s latest insanity. Three horses from the family stables were tethered in the front yard. Their saddles and bridles were adorned with clover chains. Their coats had been brushed to a shine. An emerald shine. All three horses looked hugely embarrassed.

“I hope you did not use gamma radiation on the horses,” Tasman said.

“Of course not!” Sanjay came by his outrage naturally. He loved every horse in the stable, even flatulent Faisool. “The Egyptian assured us the potion wouldn’t hurt them. The color will fade in a week.”

“It had better. Do I want to know what you intend to do with green horses?”

“Rescue maidens, of course,” said Guri. “We will ride into town and sweep the maidens up onto our saddles to save them from the snakes, just as St. Patrick did.”

“I thought Patrick only drove the snakes out of Ireland. I don’t remember any talk of maidens.”

“Legends alter over time,” Sanjay said. “I’m sure there were maidens.”

Or were about to be, Tasman thought. “Then you should go, and rescue as many as you can.” It would get them both out of his hair for many hours.

Guri grabbed him and beerily kissed his cheek. “You’re the best older brother ever. Come with us. Save a maiden. We dyed you a horse.”

“That’s quite all right. I—”

“Then we’ll bring you one. Hurry, Sanjay! Before the snakes get them!” Guri sprang into the saddle, somehow without spilling a drop of his beer. He could be quite agile when it mattered.

Sanjay drained his own mug before mounting up. “Erin go broke!” he cried, and galloped away in the direction of Talbot’s Peak, with Guri close behind.

“And so the world is saved,” a woman’s amused voice said from the doorway.

Tasman turned. His exasperation over his brothers melted away at the sight of his personal assistant. Poised and polished as always, Leila had dressed for the day in a smart gray suit. Her sole concessions to holiday observance were a green ribbon in her white-gold hair and a discrete shamrock pin in her lapel. She nodded at the mug in his hand. “That isn’t tea.”

“No, it isn’t.” He poured the frothy liquid onto the lawn. The grass did not shrivel up and turn brown, as he’d expected. “I don’t know why I indulge them.”

“Indulgence is good sometimes. It helps one relax.”

“Indeed.” Tasman indulged himself in a leisurely study of her curves. Her eyes glistened like emeralds, in dare and invitation. All of a sudden he felt like celebrating the holiday. “Do you require rescue, maiden?”

“I suppose there must be a snake around somewhere.”

“All right, then.” Tasman swept her into his arms and lifted her into the saddle. He leaped aboard. The horse grunted at the double load. At a flick of the reins it set off for the forest at a sedate trot. Tasman’s heels could not urge it into a faster gait. “It seems we’re not to have a gallop,” he said.

Leila snuggled comfortably into his arms. Her body fit to his perfectly, as always. “This pace is quite sufficient, sir. If I may? Faith and begamma.”

Tasman bared his teeth in a wide smile. He nuzzled her smooth, pale neck. Anything more would have to wait until they reached the privacy of the deep woods. He prodded the horse again. It trotted a little faster. “No wonder the Americans have so many holidays,” he said. “Erin go broke.”