April (Calendar Girl #4) (9 page)

With that, and my easily tipsy state, I cracked up. Full guffaws that were unlady-like and made me miss one of the players being auctioned. I didn’t tell Gin. That would just piss her off.

“So Rach, we should mess with these bidders. Force ‘em to go higher right?”

“We could, they’re doing a pretty good job on their own though. By my count, we’re eight guys in and have already made three hundred thousand. The last two both went for fifty.”

I watched the next guy come out. It was Junior. Kris, his pretty girlfriend ran up to me bouncing. “Junior is allowing me to buy him!” she squealed in utter and complete glee. This ought to be good. Most women wanted a piece of Junior Gonzalez. He was perfectly edible. Tonight, was no different.

“Sorry, Kris,” I held up the camera and when all the mocha hotness came into view, his eight pack abs shining, the pink ribbon painted on his chest I about swallowed my tongue.

Kris cried out screaming, “Me, me, I want to buy him! He can catch me any day!” she roared and I snapped a picture of Junior’s male beauty. Okay, if I was honest, I snapped several. Face front, side view, and a definitely tight ass pic where he squeezed those gluts and had all the ladies hollering out. I sent the array of pics to Ginelle and my phone pinged with the ladies screams.

To Mia Saunders

From: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss

OMG Junior! I love you Junior! Tell him I love him.

I couldn’t even put my phone down before it pinged again.

To Mia Saunders

From: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss

That ASS! Have mercy on my slutty soul. I’d let him catch me, throw me, bat me, tag me, as long as he did it naked and fucked me stupid.

The bidding went wild for Junior, and at each bid, Kris would pout. Then the tiny firecracker got down right pissed off. Waving her paddle around, yelling at the auctioneer, and shooting evil eyes at the women bidding.

Finally, she screamed “One hundred thousand dollars!” And I almost fell back. Rachel caught me and tipped me back on my feet.

“Kristine! Are you allowed to spend that much money?” I asked, concerned that she was about to get in some serious shit with Junior.

She nodded vigorously still waving her paddle and giving attitude. It was funny as all hell. Then she responded to me. “He wanted to donate to the cause anyway. This way, no one gets my man and he gets his wish to donate the money in Mace’s Mom’s honor. He said he always wanted to show his respect and Mace is a brother from another mother. That’s what he says.”

She beamed and then danced around when the announcer cried, “Sold to the petite blonde for one hundred thousand dollars!”

Instead of walking back to his spot, Junior jumped down from the stage, eyes on his prize, picked up his girl, and crushed his mouth to hers. “You did so good baby!” he said, swinging her around like a rag doll. She preened and kissed him all over. Those two were made for one another. I know, usually a religious, old-fashioned Hispanic male would normally go for a Latina, but somehow he’s making it work. It would be interesting to see how that all works out when he takes her home to his Mother. I visibly shook thinking about it. With how much they loved each other, you could tell he did not give a crap about old-school rules. He had his pixie and he liked it.

Man after man was auctioned off. Bids in the high tens of thousands all the way up to one hundred and fifty had already been called tonight before it was Mace’s turn. The last man standing.

“All right everyone, the man you’ve all been waiting for. Mason “Mace” Murphy! He can throw a ball at one hundred miles an hour, he’s been on sexiest man alive lists all over the globe, and now he’s here for your bidding pleasure. Let’s start tonight’s bid at fifty thousand dollars!” the announcer called. Paddles flew up across the room. A veritable sea of pink. “All right not high enough for you high rollers, let’s go to one hundred thousand!” Still at least ten paddles stayed up.

Finally, when it got to two hundred and fifty, only one paddle was up. “Do I hear two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Going once, twice, and sold to the lady in the pink satin dress!”

I turned my eyes to my left and saw Rachel’s paddle up in the air. Mason winked at the crowd and jumped down. He stormed over to Rachel and pulled her into his arms.

“Did you just buy me for a quarter of a million dollars?” he asked in awe. I was right there with him and I couldn’t believe it either.

“The company told me how much I could give. You’re about to sign several spokesperson deals, advertisements, and product sponsorships; overall, that’s really a drop in the bucket on what we’ll secure off our commission. Want to keep the client happy,” she purred. Her lips glistened off the lights, making them look delectable. 

A quarter of a million dollars was a drop in the bucket. Fuck me, I was in the wrong career.

“I don’t know what to say,” Mason’s eyes were soft and took in every inch of her face.

“Thank you would be a good start.” Her eyebrow quirked and for the first time I watched sweet, innocent, Rachel smirk. It was lovely.

He held her face, but photographers were already taking pictures. This did not look good. Instead, he hugged her close, said thank you into her ear, and moved to my side and nuzzled my hair. The cameras went off like crazy.

“Rachel, this isn’t over. I want alone time with you after the event. Don’t run from me. I want you in my room when this is over so we can talk. Swear you will come,” he pleaded under his breath.

“I will,” she promised. Then he kissed my cheek and went off to shake the hands of the donors who had given during the auction. 

***

The crowd continued to dance and participate in the festivities as the rest of the night wore on. Finally, Mason’s voice broke through the loud speaker and the lights turned up, signaling the night was just about over. It was after Midnight and my feet were killing me. I needed a hot bath, which I knew I had back in my hotel suite. Mason had booked us another double suited room so we wouldn’t have to drive or take a taxi back the thirty minutes to his place. Instead, we were in one of the Penthouse suites in the luxury hotel as were most the players and their WAGs.

Mason cleared his throat, which sounded inordinately loud through the PA. “Can I get everyone’s attention?” He asked the crowd and slowly everyone made their way to stand around the stage. The spotlight went onto Mace’s beautiful face. “I just wanted to thank everyone for coming tonight, for supporting Breast Cancer Awareness and the local Boston Chapter. Ten years ago, my Dad lost his wife, and my three brothers and I lost our Mom. She was only thirty-five years old. There isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t miss her. The cancer hit quickly and took her fast. She never even had a mammogram because she wasn’t forty. Even with a family history, she thought it wouldn’t happen to her. Well, it did. Let’s not lose any more of the women we adore to this devastating disease.”

The crowd’s applause was deafening. Mason put his hand out and shushed the crowd with a gesture.

“Though tonight was in honor of my mother, Eleanor Murphy, it’s more for the women who have yet to be saved. That’s why it is my extreme pleasure to welcome up the President of the Boston Breast Cancer Awareness Group to accept a check for tonight’s donations.” Mason looked down at the check and his eyes turned watery, and before he could man-up, a tear slipped down his cheek. He rubbed his eyes. “Think I got something in my eye.” The crowd laughed and so did I.

Mason shook his head and his hand trembled. Seeing a big, confident man hit with some serious emotion made the entire crowd respond. It was like a tidal wave of happiness and sorrow mixed into one. Mick Murphy jumped up on stage and clapped a hand onto his son’s shoulder and squeezed several times. Being there for his son, helping him stand proud during a very powerful moment was something I wished I’d had from my own dad.

“It is with extreme pleasure and gratitude for everyone here that I present you with a check for one million, two hundred seventy thousand dollars.” Mason held out the check and the entire crowd screamed so loud it almost brought the house down. Chills raced up and down my arms and gooseflesh rose across every inch of my skin. We had raised close to one point three million dollars in a single night. The man from the charity took the check, tears rushing down his face. He didn’t try to hide them.

Through the mic that was held at Mason’s cheek you could hear the man say, “Son, I lost my wife a few years ago. She would have been proud to see this. My daughter is alive because of the work we do and the prescreening she underwent at twenty. I can’t thank you enough for bringing such attention to the cause in our own home town, but also spreading the word through your good name,” he pulled back and finished. “And the entire Red Sox team. Thank you all. Everyone who’s here tonight and contributed, we will put this money to good use right away!” he wiped tears from his eyes.

There’s something about seeing grown men cry that turns a woman into a sniveling idiot. All the women around where weeping, blotting their eyes with pocket squares and handkerchiefs, me included.

It was the best night I’d had in a long time.

***

Back at the room, I sleepily pulled myself out of the tepid bath water. I’d long since lost the bubbles, drank all the rest of my champagne, eaten my weight in chocolate covered strawberries, and was now about to hit the sheets. I pulled on the comfy robe, wanting to go out and say goodnight to Mason. He had been so busy with his brothers; I’d told him I’d see him up in the room or in the morning first thing for some breakfast. He kissed me sweetly on the lips for the cameras that were anxiously waiting, held my hands, and thanked me for everything. One of the WAGs and I took to our rooms and left the men to finish up their male bonding for the night. Overall, I was really impressed with how things worked out. A crazy amount of money was raised, the entire event looked great for Mason and the Red Sox team as a whole and a bunch of rich people got fat tax write offs. Most importantly, Mason’s mom was honored and more women than I can count on my fingers and toes would get the prescreening they needed and hopefully save lives.

I felt like a modern day Mother Teresa in fuck me pumps, a tight skirt, and a leather jacket. I snickered to myself and stepped drunkenly into the open living room. It was empty, but Mason’s suit coat was thrown over the back of the couch so I knew he was back. I tip toed to his room and saw a soft light shining through the two inches the door was open.

As I got closer, I heard some noises. My brain couldn’t quite seem to come up with the appropriate response to what I was hearing until it was right in front of me. Through the crack in the door there were two bodies. Mason was clearly on top of a woman, powering into her from behind.

“Fuck yeah, so tight,” he said. I watched, unable to look away as he slid a hand up the woman’s spine and into her blonde hair. He pushed it aside and that’s when I saw who was on her hands and knees. Rachel. Sweet, professional, Rachel was pressing her perfect little ass back into Mason while he plowed into her over and over. He curled a hand around her shoulder, and thrust hard. “Mine. You’re mine now, Rach. I’m going to take this sweet pussy every day for the rest of my fucking life,” he roared.

Rachel screamed, “Yes, God yes. Mace, so good. I’m gonna, I’m gonna, Oh my god.”

“That’s it baby,” Mason said before he lifted her up to wrap a hand around her breasts and tweak both her nipples. She had small breasts but they were the perfect handful and he seemed to enjoy them without complaint. I knew I should go, I shouldn’t stay and watch, but they were so beautiful. Unlike the erotic kinky show I saw the last time I caught Mason, this was something completely different. It was like watching art. Truly capturing the act of love.

Mason tweaked Rachel’s small nipples into tight little points. I bit my lip and squeezed my legs together. The space between my own legs was aching, wet, and desperate for attention. But I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t get myself off while watching them. That would be going too far.

Just as I started to back up and give them some privacy, Mason’s hand flew between her legs where the blonde hair was trimmed into a neat little line. He moved two fingers around and around and she arched back just as he hammered his way home. Both of them cried out in combined release. It was exotic, sensual, and something I wanted for myself more than anything. I just didn’t know who or when I’d find it. For a brief time this year I thought I had it, but now, I was back to square one and I was a free agent. I could be with whomever I wanted and so could Wes.

Wes. God, even the thought of his name sent a fresh pool of desire to moisten the flesh between my thighs.

Quickly running back to my room, I shut the door, and flung myself into bed. I didn’t want to do what I did next but I couldn’t help it. I pulled out my phone, brought up the pictures I’d taken of Wes and Alec and scrolled through their naked beauty. And then I touched myself. It took no more than thirty seconds and I was crying out, muffling my cries against my forearm, sinking my teeth into the robe and meat of my arm as the tremors washed over me.

It felt good while it lasted, but then lying there in the quiet of the room, the overwhelming feeling that hummed just under the surface was an unbelievable sense of loneliness. For the first time in my life, I was by myself, truly and utterly alone. 

Chapter 7

Sponsors for Mason came out of the woodwork after our big charity event. Turns out that when a young pro ball player goes philanthropist, every major sports related organization wants a piece of him. Rachel was fielding requests for interviews, ad campaigns, commercials and the like all week. Me, I played the part of pretty, devoted girlfriend while gorging on beer and baseball. It. Was. Awesome. Three weeks in and I was already bemoaning the fact that soon I was going to be leaving Mason and the easy life. Sure, I’d be sent to another rich guy who needed me for something else and the amenities would be great, but they wouldn’t be something I could wrap my arms around. Living with Mason, once we got past all his douche bag ways was really easy. He was funny, smart, and loved living life. I felt young for the first time in a long time. There was nothing for me to do except be me. Mason liked me for me. As a matter of fact, we got along like friends who had a long history, even though it had only been three weeks. We clicked.