Ides of March Pt. 01

"I can't believe it, Rob!" she exclaimed. "Billy the Beast, in the flesh. This is the best adventure ever!" Barb wrapped her arms around my neck and smashed her lips to mine, thrusting her tongue deep into my mouth. I let her attack, allowing her to burn off some of her built up tension and excitement. Her body ground against me, and I was already hard as steel. As we broke the kiss, I hugged her tight, and we swayed together. Somewhere along the way, coming out of her stupor, she noticed my excitement.

"Somebody's ready," she teased. Then Barb went to her knees, with no fanfare at all, and started licking me everywhere down there. When she had worked up a sufficient amount of saliva, she pushed my cock all the way to the back of her throat on the first attempt. I thought I might explode right there. I did last about another minute and a half, and was quite proud of that, considering it was the best blowjob I'd had in my lifetime.

We fucked on the sink, in the bed, and over the desk until we were sated and spent. After a rest and some cuddling, we made sweet love. I went down on my wife with a renewed jubilance, and gave it all I had. When I went a little farther south with my tongue, she didn't try at all to stop me. We were on another level. In the morning, we fucked once more. I likened it to pricking yourself with a pin to see if you were really awake. In our case, I think we wanted to see if our memories from the prior evening were real.

We gathered up Mark and Desi for a late buffet breakfast, all compliments of Ides of March, in a separate banquet room. The rest of the morning, saw my nervous wife getting ready, meticulously doing her make-up while I spent time with the kids at the pool.

The awards ceremony went off without a hitch, precisely at noon. My beautiful lady accepted her oversized check along with a free two-year subscription, and an invite to write more stories, that were guaranteed to be published post proof. I've never been prouder or more smitten as the crowd of about two hundred applauded her.

When we got back to the room, our kids joined us, praising their mom. They wanted to go to Hell's Kitchen until I reminded them the place was booked almost two years out. Still, they pleaded for us to go out on the strip. Barb took the wind out of their sails when she said, "Mark, Des, Dad and I have one more function, then I promise the next two days are family time."

I looked at my wife questioningly.

"The charity auction's tonight, Rob," she stated. "It would be inappropriate not to attend."

"How come I didn't know anything about it, sweetie?"

"I thought you did," she replied. "It was in the brochure and the program."

I wasn't too happy about the turn of events, but Barb quickly smoothed over the situation. "It starts at 3:30. I think they expected people might take in the sights or a show. I packed your monkey suit, honey. Let's go change and get it over with."

When I finished adjusting my tie in the bathroom mirror, I stepped out to see Barb putting on some finishing touches. The little blue dress she wore, I'd bought it for our anniversary last year. She looked as sexy as the first day I'd met her. Barb's straight, reddish blonde hair was done up tastefully, highlighting her glowing cheeks. The dress fit her like film wrap. Dark blue open-toed pumps completed her outfit.

As we walked into the auction, I felt in more familiar surroundings. It was all that time with the fire department, I supposed. We'd had our share of charity balls and golf outings, trying to raise money for this cause or that, and I'd had to attend quite a few in my day. This one had slightly more glitz and glamour, but the premise was the same. Barb and I walked from table to table.

"Since you knew about this Barb, did you set a budget?" I asked.

She smiled. "Of course, but since you bought tickets and a room for the kids, I pulled $500 out of my personal savings." Barb had her war chest from her book sales. We shared a lot of the proceeds as income, but I thought it made sense for her to keep a little on the side for things she saw fit to spend on.

We almost missed it completely, I suppose because it was in plain sight: on an easel in the middle of the room was the marquis mini-event of the charity auction. Starting at 5:00pm in a separate adjoining ballroom, there was to be an auction for a night with the man himself: Billy the Beast Bronson. I studied the photo momentarily, as I compared it to the man we'd met the night before. His rugged facial features looked like a cross between a young Robert Redford, and, well, Charles Bronson. I wondered if they were related. Barbara brought me out of my fog.

"Rob, baby did you hear me?" she asked impatiently. "I want to bid."

I looked at her stupidly, "What?"

"I want to enter, you know, bid on him," she repeated.

"Why? I don't understand. What are you even bidding on?"

Barb reached for my hand. "It's all there on the board. It's a night with Billy.

Her eyes were pleading as she tried to explain. I couldn't see it. A night with Billy?

"You mean like a dinner or something?" I suddenly felt ill. Ridiculous and ill. I knew better, I just didn't want to believe it.

"It says a 'night with Billy the Beast.' I'm sure it means dinner...also." She was actually trying to cover up. Barb realized her mistake immediately as the look on my face changed.

"Barb, what the hell are you saying here? You're saying you want to bid on this guy in hopes of spending the night with him? Is this some kind of sick joke? There must be some rule excluding married women."

God I was lame, but I couldn't help it. The shock was just setting in as I stood there looking at her.

Barb recovered spectacularly. "Babe, I doubt that there are any restrictions. He's a famous pro athlete. He's offering himself as a prize in an auction. If it's sex you're talking about, or worrying about, I suppose that would be up to the winner. That's not going to be me, because I'm not going to be anywhere close to winning with a measly $500. I just want to spend the money on this, instead of some shitty gift basket, or bizarre kitchen accessory."

It was tough to argue with Barb's logic. She'd settled me down for the moment. I still had reservations, although it made sense that a guy like Billy would garner a lot more denero than the $500 my wife had available to play with. I figured it was her money to 'gamble,' and we'd had such a great time already, so what could be the harm?

"It's fine, babe. Go ahead. You made me kinda jealous there for a second. You're right of course. The person who spends an evening with the beast is going to have to cough up a chunk of change." I hugged her, and she looked around for the table where she'd need to register. After completing and signing all the forms, we went in to find a seat.

Having done this sort of thing before, I gave Barb some tips. We purposefully found 2 seats near the aisle. It would be easier for the auctioneer to see her place a bid. I explained her paddle and how to use it. I reminded her that the bidding might even start as high as what she had to bid, so to make sure that paddle went straight into her lap as soon as her bid was recognized.

The MC came on stage, said a few things about the event, thanked the participants, and then announced Billy the Beast Bronson. He came beaming onto the stage, his expensive suit ridiculously tight, hugging all those muscles. Unlike the previous night in the lobby, he'd had someone do his hair, and apply some make up.

Barb was so excited and nervous, that I had to prompt her. The caller of the auction said the bidding would start at $250. A woman way in the back bid, and the auctioneer called $350. I nudged Barb, know the next bid could easily eclipse her funds. She was too slow, and the next bid was $450. I grabbed her wrist, holding it up until she came around and did it for herself.

"Four-hunnla-four-fiddy, five. Five hunnla..." The auctioneer was stopped in his tracks. Every light in the hall went out, leaving every one of us in the pitch darkness. I felt Barb grasp me tightly. In what seemed too long a period, but was actually only ten seconds, the hotel security, which had been manning the doors, along with private security belonging to the magazine, came forward, and someone spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. The power will..." the rest was cut short as the bright strobes of the fire warning system started flashing. The man continued. "The power will be restored shortly, as soon as the hotel's emergency generator kicks in."

There were ooh's and ahs'- a few screams too. Barb held me and I pulled her into my shoulder. A minute later, other hotel staff came in and told us we needed to follow fire drill protocols since the power outage had triggered the fire alarm. We were removed in an orderly fashion, row by row, and walked out to the designated staging area. Barb was a mess going through the lobby, asking how she could go up and get our kids. The staff was unsympathetic, and when I intervened, they told us that we'd see our children shortly. Employees of the hotel were going floor by floor and door to door, evacuating everyone. I asked about anyone at the pool, considering they may have gone there. We were assured they would be safe, and that there was no actual fire.

Barb was a wreck for ten more minutes as I comforted her. When we were finally allowed to re-enter, Mark and Desi were sitting patiently in the lobby, looking for us. Barb ran over and hugged the kids. They assured us they were fine, and had indeed been at the pool when everything had happened. I suggested they come with us for a bit until the auction ended, and Barb was all for that.

As we walked towards the ballroom, a staffer from the magazine, a young woman with an earpiece and a clipboard, came up to us. "Mrs. Stanton, Barbara?" she asked, seeming to already know. She was accompanied by some sort of security man dressed down so as not to look like it. Barb nodded.

"Mrs. Stanton, can you please come backstage with us? We need to gather all auction bidders so we can explain the rules regarding what just occurred." She seemed frazzled, and I understood exactly why. It was a horrible timing issue. I expected they would be telling everyone the auction would restart where they'd left off. I kissed my wife on the cheek.

"I'll be back in a minute," she told us.

Mark sat in Barb's seat, and Desi squeezed in between us, since the rest of the chairs were full. Some of the organizers and people from back stage were now sitting, while others, dressed in sports coats, were lined up in front of the stage. A representative from Ides of March came out, apologized for the episode and started going over the fine print of the auction rules.

"In accordance with the 'act of God' clause, and that's what we are identifying this as, the rules clearly state that the last person to make a recognized bid wins the prize. The last highest called bid belongs to...Barbara Stanton!"

Everyone started to clap and cheer as Barb came out onto the stage holding hands with Billy Bronson.

I couldn't describe my feelings or emotions at that moment, not even if I was offered a million dollars. I suspect it was shock, and disbelief initially, as if somehow it wasn't really happening. In some amount of time, I have no idea how long, my mind stopped moving in slow motion. My wife had the biggest smile on her face. I hadn't taken my eyes off her. Billy held their joined hands high in the air, like a referee holding up the winning prize fighter's. Desi was two feet away from me, jumping up and down in absolute joy.

The woman on stage used hand gestures to get everyone to settle down. When she felt that had been accomplished, she continued, "As the rules originally stated, the winner's date begins at 6:00pm. With all that's happened this afternoon, we're very happy to announce we are only fifteen minutes behind schedule. A limo is waiting to whisk you away on your fantasy date. Have fun, you two!"

Now Desiree wasn't so excited. Two large men led the unlikely couple off to the right side of the stage. I couldn't find my voice until they were well out of sight.

"Barbara!" I yelled. No, it wasn't really yelling. It was more like the sounds of her name wrapped into a bigfoot call. However it was perceived, it was pure agony. I suddenly shot to the front of the stage, not even remembering my kids were with me. The large goons just closed ranks as they realized I was planning to go onstage. I yelled at them to move, that I had to get to my wife. Seeing the serious looks and their resolve, I tried a different tactic. In a calmer voice I said, "Hey, it's okay, I just need to ask her something." That was dumb. Desi was running up behind me now, Mark a ways behind her.

"Dad. Dad! Stop it!" she screamed out. Then in barely a whisper, "You're embarrassing us. Mom will be okay." Then she couldn't help her elation. "OMG! I've got to get this on Instagram. Mom's a star!"

Another woman walked up to us, but I don't think she understood what was going on.

"Miss, Miss, I need to talk to my wife...to Barbara Stanton. Where is she...where are they going?"

She seemed to put two and two together. "And you are?" she flatly asked.

"Mr. Stanton. My wife just left with Billy...Mr. Bronson." I claimed, trying to keep it together, but looking a little too crazed.

"Oh. Well they are...you know where, actually. What do you need?"

She was pissing me off.

"Who's in charge of this event? Take me to them right now." I demanded.

The security guys relaxed slightly as the young woman led us away. The kids still tagged along behind me. Over to the left of the stage area, by the audio visual people, was an older woman dressed to the nines - possibly the owner of the magazine, or a partner of some kind. She was flanked by several other, younger, females all dressed in the same blue blazers.

"This man is Mr. Stan..."

I cut her off. "I need to get hold of my wife, Barbara Stanton. She just left with..."

The older woman interrupted me now. "Yes, Mr. Stanton, everyone knows who she left with. Calm down. What can I do for you?" She was the only calm one in this conversation.

"I want to know where they went. I need to talk to her. I have her purse and her phone."

"Mr. Stanton..." she took a moment to look at some paperwork one of the female staffers had handed her. "Robert, correct? May I call you Robert?"

I nodded impatiently.

"Your wife Barbara is on an adventure. You are aware of the parameters of this auction prize, are you not?" She was pushing my buttons, whether she meant to or not.

"Ms?" I left it hang there.

"Lewis," she said. "Rhonda Lewis."

"Well, Rhonda, my wife wanted to give something back, after what the magazine has done here. Neither of us planned on her winning the auction. She only did it with $500 she didn't want to waste on some overpriced donation. I had no idea the date was to be immediately afterward, and I'm sure she didn't either. Your staff whisked her and Bronson off stage so fast we didn't have time to discuss anything."

"Robert, I assure you she's in good hands. There's a photographer from the magazine with them to capture their evening together. What they do after their 'date' I imagine is up to them. After all, they are two grown consenting adults."

Ms. Lewis wasn't just stating her case. She wasn't just covering the magazine's ass either. She was thoroughly enjoying this little exchange, trying to twist the knife into the poor husband's back with her words. Why she was doing so, I didn't know, but I certainly wasn't going to stop until I made my point or someone dragged me out of the hall. I raised my voice several decibels and changed my tone.

"She didn't want a god damned date with that asshole Bronson. It was a joke. We both knew $500 wouldn't come close to winning him for a date. Then you guys pulled some bullshit rules out of your ass due to the power outage. I want to know where they went from here. I want to know where the dinner is to take place. Call your fucking photographer right now and find out where they are."

She didn't immediately respond, so I continued, "Or just get that limo back here, NOW!" I put an arm around my daughter and reached back further to draw Mark closer to me. "These are our children. We had plans tonight. We never agreed to this."

Some of the younger staff were clearly nervous, since I was making a scene. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few security guards making their way towards us.

"Mr. Stanton," she said. Clearly now the conversation was back to formal. "Mrs. Stanton signed the agreement. She signed up for the auction, regardless of whether she read it or not. Nothing is going to happen that she doesn't want to have happen. It's a charity event, for goodness' sake! The terms of the prize are completely spelled out. One night with the celebrity in question. We've done this at almost all of our events. That night starts with at least one of our staff or videographers there so we can show our readers a few stills of the lucky couple."

"I didn't sign anything, and I think this is all bullshit!" I hollered.

The security guys were asking questions. I, the kids and Ms. Lewis were all talking over each other. Finally, one of the men had the good sense to bark at us to shut up. I'd been arguing that I hadn't signed a damned thing. In the lull, Mr. Lewis delivered the knockout blow.

"Mr. Stanton, we don't need your signature. I'm sorry if this is a shock, or that you weren't able to talk to your wife after the winning announcement. That all transpired because of the fire alarm. I can see that you're worried, maybe shocked and a little hurt. It's just a date. She'll be back, maybe tonight, but no later than tomorrow afternoon. Your wife is in good hands."

"That's ridiculous," I claimed. "She's on a date with another man, that she never planned to go with. She doesn't even have her phone or identification. I don't see that as 'safe.' What do you mean 'no later than tomorrow afternoon?' That doesn't sound like just a date to me."

"I'm sorry sir, but it was all spelled out in the contract she signed. She may come home after an evening of dining and dancing, but they're both adults. Whatever they do after the magazine staff leaves is up to them." She looked at me with pity. "She won Mr. Bronson in accordance with our auction. I'm sure everything will be fine."

If these morons thought everything was going to be fine, I had serious doubts. In fact, I had about all I could take for the moment. Those people didn't care about Barb or me, just an auction that didn't fail, and a photo op for the lucky winner and her date. They'd given me the same run around as all those insurance companies and debt collectors, and flat out dismissed me.

The security people were now trying to get me out of the hall. When I yanked my elbow away the first time, they became more forceful. Desi was near tears, and begged me, "Come on Dad! This is embarrassing. Let's just go back to the room." I wanted to strangle my daughter for a moment, but I realized she was too young to understand.

The kids practically dragged me back to our room, but I'd never been more restless and panicked. I had a sudden idea, and asked Mark and Desi to go back to the ballroom and see if they could locate Ms. Lewis. I knew if I went, and was manhandled by security again, I might end up arrested, and that wouldn't do any of us any good.

The kids returned, and told me Ms. Lewis was gone, and that the only people in the ballroom were a few people packing up the gear, and some props. Desi had had the good sense to take a pic of the poster board by the registration table, the same one that had drawn Barb's attention at the auction. I asked my daughter to forward it, and then I studied it long and hard. I wished I hadn't.