Auction of Promises

Auction of Promises

by Obohobo

Chapter 1. The Auction

"What are you going to offer for the Auction this year Jane?" Matty asked me.

"Same as last year I suppose; '15 hours housework, no sex'. Not much else I feel I can offer even though it didn't make much money last year."

"You don't feel up to offering yourself as an escort like Kathy?" Matty already knew I had strong views on that. She was trying to wind me up and decided to ignore the remark. She went on, "You could make a lot more money for charity and for yourself. You might even find a boyfriend. What you get out of the housework bit won't pay for a phone call to enquire about a new car let alone buy one."

"Kathy doesn't seem to mind being a part time hooker. She'll probably get bookings for every night of the week and end up being a bit sore between her thighs. In any case I don't need another boyfriend, only just got rid of the last one. You'll do your usual barbecue I suppose? "

"Yeah, I enjoy them and Ken does most of the cooking. It was popular last time and brought in about £200 with the raffle and the games we played." I'd only paid in £45 for fifteen hours of boring housework, clearing and cleaning the home of old man Hansen whose wife died several years ago. I think it was about the only time in a year he'd had the place cleaned.

The auction Matty referred to was the Auction of Promises the firm organised for one week every year. We were part of a big international insurance group but the auction was only for the U.K. branches. It was done on-line using the firm's intranet that outsiders would not normally have access to, although many small subsidiary and supply firms were connected to it as well so all in all the information reached several thousand people. On a web page we placed a photo ourselves and then gave the service we offered. Underneath people could place their bids for that service. The services ranged from flights in a private plane, to a boating weekend and right down to the lowly service of house cleaning that I offered. Half the money raised went to charity and the participant kept half although often they gave the full amount to the charity.

Matty logged on and brought up the page. Already there were about fifty entries. Scrolling down she stopped at Kathy's promise. 'Friendly and accommodating escort service. Please state night required.' I noticed she hadn't ticked the 'no sex' box.

She scrolled on to her entry. 'Fun barbecue. Good food, fun and games. You'll have a terrific time. Friday evening only.' She'd ticked the 'no sex' box.

"What shall we put for you, Jane? We've still got that awful mug shot on file we used last time." It was my passport photo and I looked a bit grim in it. She typed in '15 hours housework' and ticked 'no sex'. Then changed it, 'Housework/slave for 15 hours' but left the no sex in place because she knew my views on that subject. My boyfriend had left abruptly with another girl after we'd lived as an item for eight months. I didn't want another relationship or even a one-night stand. "That might get you a better offer than Dan Hansen's," she laughed. Later that day I had an email to verify my entry and somewhat reluctantly I did so. I was still unsure about the 'slave' part but decided to give it a try and I wasn't forced to accept any of the bids.

Next day before work a group of us from the office checked what bids had been put forward. Kathy already had generous offers for three nights. "You'll be walking bow-legged on Monday," one of the girls giggled at her.

"Who said I let them screw me," Kathy demanded.

"We do," we all chorused together and fell about laughing.

Matty had three couples offering ten pounds each. "Not a bad start," she remarked, "Last year only a few booked on the first few days. Many wait until the weekend and discus it with their wives or partners."

Mine just had one from Dan Hansen offering £6 per hour the same as last year. I was disappointed. "It's early days," I said to the others and Matty gave my hand a squeeze. "You don't have to accept the bid," she whispered. I'd told myself that already.

Doreen suggested, "Uncheck the 'no sex' box and then you will get plenty of offers especially from dirty old men with plenty of money. They might even buy you the car!" Everyone joined in the suggestion and this gave rise to many fanciful and improbable scenarios that could happen. I adamantly refused to alter it and I was glad there was some system in place whereby once the 'submit' button had been pressed, the wording of the offer couldn't be altered although it could all be deleted. I was ragged even more the next day when another man had upped the bid to £6.20 an hour. They all seemed to think my photo put people off. Sylvia our supervisor called us back to work so we didn't discuss it further.

Dan had upped the price to £6.30 an hour the next day a derogatory increase according to everyone and their remarks made me feel very depressed and downcast. Matty tried to lift my spirits but didn't succeed. It was just one more thing I had to deal with. The car was my biggest problem. Without it my journey to work was not only expensive, it took nearly two hours because the rural buses didn't connect without a long wait. Going home was not much better although in theory it should have only taken an hour and a half, it was frequently late.

I didn't bother looking at the bids on Friday morning until Kathy called, "Come and see your offer Jane!" She and the other girls sounded excited but I was in a dark mood.

"What is it this morning?" I asked sourly, "£6.40?"

"Come and see, girl!" Her enthusiasm lifted my spirits enough to walk to the screen.

'Jane phone xxxxx xxxxxx Ext. 317 Offer £1,000 plus. David' All the girls were laughing and making comments as to what sort of slave I would be for that money. Like them I guessed sex would be involved somewhere along the way. I recognised the phone number as coming from our Midlands office but hadn't any idea whose extension 317 was. It was midmorning break but it took many prompts from my colleagues before I had the courage to phone the number.

"Mr. Furlough's office, can I help you?" A typical secretary sing-song reply. I told her I was Jane Beeson and I'd been asked to phone him. "I'll see if he is available, hold on please." Again she disinterestedly sang the words as she'd done thousands of times. At least there wasn't any music to accompany the wait but I had time enough to work out that the man must be in the upper echelons of power to have his own secretary.

"Furlough," the voice sounded very abrupt voice over the phone. The voice of a man used to giving commands and having them obeyed.

"Good morning," I stammered, "I'm Jane Beeson… You left a note on the Auction of Promises site for me to call you."

"Ah, yes, Jane. I'm David. Sorry I didn't recognise the name when my secretary put you through. Look, would you be prepared to spend a two week holiday with me in the highlands and act as my wife?" That threw me. It sounded like he wanted someone to take away for couple of weeks for sex. I hesitated and almost said no but he went on. "I have to attend a conference for two days in Inverness and will have to be present at a couple of evening functions where it is expected that I have a partner. I'd planned taking the woman I'd been living with but she left me six weeks ago and went to live with her lesbian friend." I heard a stifled giggle.

"Sir, I think our conversation is being listened to by most of the office. Perhaps you would like to phone me at home?"

I gave him my number but before he hung up he threw me in a loop again. "Better still, have dinner with me tonight. Perhaps at the Ramada on the A1 just north of Grantham. That's about halfway for both of us."

"Sorry sir…"

"Don't keep calling me sir. I'm David except at work."

"Sorry David… I thought I was in slave mode." I gave a giggle. "Sorry, I don't have a car that works and there is no hope of repairing it in time, in fact no hope of repairing it at all." I choked back a little cry, which I know he heard.

"No problem. I'll see what I can sort out and get back to you."

I'd hardly put the phone down and the girls started ribbing me about being a wife for two weeks. I more or less dismissed the idea, as it would certainly involve sex or at least a relationship that I was reluctant to get into.

I didn't hear anything more until shortly after lunch when a van driver came into the office and spoke with Sylvia who brought him to me. "Jane Beeson? I'm Bob and I've been told to drive you to the Walsall office when I return with my next load. I've got to leave in a few minutes." He spoke with a Birmingham accent so I guessed the Walsall office was his home base.

"But… I've nothing to wear…"

"You look fine to me," Bob grinned "Maybe Mr. Furlough doesn't want you wearing anything."

"I can't go like this!" I protested.

"Of course you can," Matty chided, "Take a risk for once in your life. If he wants you in a posh outfit he'll have to buy you one!"

"How will I get back?" I was worried I might be stranded up there.

"Dunno Miss. I expect I'll be back this way on Monday. He can afford to put you in a hotel for the weekend if he doesn't let you stay at his place. Don't think he's taken any girls in since Maisie left though. Seems a reasonable enough bloke. Bit bossy perhaps but I don't have many dealings with him. Only seen him a few of times. A lowly van driver like me don't get to visit the gods on the top floor."

"Get going," Matty urged, "Things will sort themselves out when you get there."

"You'd better go to the ladies first miss as it will be a couple of hours before we can stop, that is if the traffic on a Friday isn't too bad." Bob added.