"Um, haven't done that either."

"I didn't know you wanted a Christmas tree," said Seth. "Do you need help picking one out?"

"Well, I don—"

The auction started, cutting me off. The auctioneer, Nick, was a young guy in his early thirties who probably had a second job doing minor modeling contracts that would never actually get him out of Seattle. He smiled non-stop and did a good job flirting with the women and making guy-jokes to the men. Bids flew fast and furious, and it was easy to get caught up in the excitement.

"Next up," said the auctioneer, reading from a card, "is Tawny Johnson."

"Johnson?" asked Cody. "Kind of boring."

"She made up both her names," I said. Succubi often did. "She probably didn't have any mental energy left after choosing the first one."

"Ouch," said Seth. "Who's being mean now?"

"You haven't met her," I warned.

Tawny pranced up, wearing seven-inch high-heeled shoes that appeared to be made out of stainless steel. They looked like medieval torture devices but matched her super-tight, silver lamé hot pants and jacket.

"She didn't disappoint," said Cody, studying the outfit.

Unsurprisingly, she stumbled the last couple of steps, and Nick reached out to steady her.

"Careful there," he said, flashing his brilliant white teeth. "Men are supposed to fall all over you."

It took her a moment to get the joke, and then she burst into small, high-pitched giggles. The noise grated on my nerves, but Nick seemed quite pleased to have someone appreciate his jokes.

"Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself, Tawny," he said. "It says here you're currently unemployed. Does that mean you're out looking for something right now?"

"Well, Nick, I'm out looking for someone right now—if you know what I mean."

"Oh my God," I said.

"That was kind of funny," Peter noted.

"No, it wasn't."

Nick apparently agreed with Peter. He threw back his head and laughed. "Careful there, guys…we got a dangerous one on our hands. Tell me, Tawny, what is it you're looking for in a man?"

She pursed her red-lacquered lips in deep thought. "I'm looking for heart, Nick. Heart and soul. Those are the most important things."

There was a collective "aww" from the audience. Beside me, Peter said, "Okay, the soul thing really was funny. Only to us, of course, but still."

Tawny then winked at the crowd. "But stamina and a big checkbook can make up for that sometimes."

Nick waited for the audience's laughter to fade. "Okay, let's start the bidding at fifty—oh my God."

Tawny had taken off her jacket, revealing a zebra-print bandeau top underneath. ‘Top' was a dubious term at best, though. When wrapped around her enormous bust, it looked more like a rubber band and really only served to cover her nipples.

Bids exploded from the audience, much to the astonishment of my friends and me. More surprising still was when Nick the auctioneer actually joined in.

"Folks, I know this is a bit unusual…but, well, I just can't help myself. Three-hundred dollars."

"Three-fifty!"

"Four-hundred!"

In the end, Nick was the one who ended up winning her, paying a startling five-fifty.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Peter.

I would have made a joke about his comment if I wasn't so shocked. When I finally found my voice, it was to say, "Well…this is a good thing, right? That guy looks like he'd sleep with her right now."

"And," added Cody, "it was all for the kids."

Slowly, my astonishment faded into relief. This was an unexpected twist to the evening. The Tawny problem was fixed. Apparently, all we'd needed to do was essentially run an ad for her. She'd sleep with him, and Niphon would get off my back. One less thing for me to worry about—which was good, because I certainly had plenty of other things. Like Maddie.

It was her turn next. She walked out, face grim and set for battle. She looked both terrified and terrifying. In spite of that hard countenance, I still saw a few interested faces in the audience.

"Smile, smile," I muttered to no one in particular.

"Maddie Sato," said Nick cheerily. "You write magazine articles. Anything I'd know?"

"Probably not," she said, still wearing that grimace. "Not unless you read feminist publications."

"Feminist," he said, clearly amused. "Next you'll be telling us you hate men."

She gave him a blank look. "I only hate stupid men who don't actually understand what ‘feminist' means."

He laughed. "You run into a lot of men like that?"

"All the time."

"Really?"

"Even as we speak, Nick."

"Oh no she didn't," said Peter. I groaned.

It took Nick a full ten seconds to realize he had just been insulted. Then, for the first time that night, he stopped smiling. Turning to the crowd, he said flatly, "Okay, let's start the bidding at fifty."

Silence met him. The interested faces no longer looked so interested. I swallowed a scream. No, this couldn't be happening. I'd promised her a date. This would destroy her. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard a voice in the back of the room.

"Fifty."

Relieved, I craned my head and looked. The guy who had bid was about fifty years old and looked exactly like this pedophile I'd once seen on a news special.

"Fifty," said Nick. "Do I hear seventy-five?"

Silence. I turned to Seth.

"Do something!" I hissed.

He flinched. "What?"

"Going once…"

I elbowed him, and his hand shot up. "Seventy-five."

There was a collective "ooh' in the room. Apparently no one, including Maddie, had expected a bidding war for the belligerent man-hater. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"One hundred," said the pedophile look-alike.

Then, either to end this quickly or because he felt sorry for Maddie, Seth said, "Three hundred."

More sounds of astonishment followed. The other bidder couldn't compete; he must have spent all his money on bail.

"Sold to the gentleman in the Welcome Back, Kotter T-shirt."

"Nice," said Cody, as Maddie exited the stage.

I reached out and squeezed Seth's hand. "Thank you."

He gave me his half-smile. "Anything for the kids."

Nick flipped to his next card. "And now we have…Georgina Kincaid."

My head shot up. Across the room, I saw Hugh's smirking face.

"Oh no he didn't," I said through gritted teeth.

Nick, puzzled, glanced toward where the other auctionees were. "Georgina Kincaid?"

"No avoiding it," Peter told me. "Might as well go up there. Otherwise people'll think you hate kids."

"That joke is getting old," I hissed.

Vowing to slap Hugh later, I reluctantly rose from my chair. Upon seeing me, Nick turned on the supernova smile. "Ah, there she is. Fashionably late."

On the subject of fashion, I wished I'd worn something as nice as Maddie's dress. I might have just gotten tricked into this thing, but now I wished I could do it right. I still looked good; my normal sense of aesthetics would allow for nothing less. I had on a black skirt and a purple cashmere sweater, my hair in a ponytail. In tiny increments—too slow and small for anyone to notice—I tightened the sweater around my figure and made the neckline bigger. I put a saunter into my hips and pulled out my ponytail tie, shaking out my hair. It had worked for Maddie and countless nerdy movie girls. It would work for me because I suddenly had a serious issue at stake here.

There was no way on God's green earth that I was going for less than Tawny.

"Georgina," said Nick, helping me onto the stage. "My notes say you prefer Georgie." Yeah, Hugh was definitely getting slapped. "And that you run a bookstore."

If I'd taken a victim recently and had succubus glamour on me, I wouldn't have to do a single thing except stand there. I wouldn't even have to smile. Now I'd have to work a little. Quickly, I assessed this crowd. The kinds of guys who came to events like this tended to be white-collar professionals with disposable income. Some would be here simply because philanthropy was trendy and good for the image, and this was a stylish way to do it. Others, while perhaps not desperate, were nonetheless intellects and introverts who found this a good opportunity to meet women. These men all wanted smart, competent women—women who were also pretty, of course. And wit…wit always went over well.