A Man for All Seasons

“Uh, Marlie?”

“Hmm?” The picture on the screen changed and another man appeared. This one was wearing more clothes, but his smile promised he wouldn’t be wearing them long. Ty had a passing acquaintance with that smile and a guy shouldn’t ever be photographed smiling that smile.

“And you can coo in my ear anytime.” Marlie typed “Two Turtle Doves.”

“What are you doing?”

“This is the 12 Men of Christmas Dating Extravaganza.”

“Is it legal?”

Marlie laughed. “Axelle found twelve men to agree to take the winners or winner on a date inspired by verses from ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ song.” She typed as she spoke.

“Axelle didn’t ask me,” Ty said, wondering how Axelle knew the men.

“Axelle doesn’t want to share you,” Marlie told him.

“Or she doesn’t think anyone would pay to go out with me.”

“More likely, she’s afraid you’ll embarrass the other guys by starting a bidding war.”

Ty liked the sound of that. It could happen. He envisioned hordes of women emptying their bank accounts and shouting bids faster than the auctioneer could keep up.

And then he noticed Marlie looking at him with her all-seeing gaze. He gestured with his chin toward the computer screen. “How high does Axelle think women will bid to go out with these men?”

“I have no idea,” Marlie told him. “But there’s a minimum bid of six hundred dollars.”

“Fifty bucks a date? What a deal. You can barely go to the movies and get popcorn, drinks and a pack of Junior Mints for fifty bucks.”

“I don’t fix the starting bids. I just put up the auction items. But I think the low minimum is because this is offered as an all or nothing package,” Marlie explained. “Axelle said some of the guys were afraid no one would bid on them. This was the only way they’d agree to participate. She’s encouraging women to form buying cartels and split up the guys among them.”

He nodded. “In case anyone is too shy to bid by herself. Good idea. So show me the men’s package.”

Marlie slowly turned her head and looked up at him.

“I meant,” Ty said, feeling irritated, “are there women for sale?”

“You meant that, did you?”

“Is there a women’s version of the dating dozen?” he asked heavily as Marlie continued typing, visibly fighting a grin.

“No—ooolala, Mr. Three French Hens. I wonder if French is his specialty.”

Ty looked at the screen. “That’s Axelle’s brother!”

“So that’s Paul.” Marlie propped her chin on her elbow as she zoomed in. “Mmm.” She traced his lips with the cursor and then zoomed in even more until just his mouth and square chin with the cleft filled the screen.

How did he shave that thing, anyway? Ty wondered. Judging by the dreamy expression on Marlie’s face, that was not what she was wondering. Sighing, she zoomed out. “I’m glad Axelle has no problem sharing him.”

Ty looked at her in concern. Now that he’d helped her get over Eric, she wasn’t going to go wild, was she? The idea was to find an area between nun and nymphomaniac.

The next photo popped up. “Four calling birds. Call me anytime.” Her voice dropped to a sexy purr.

“You do know it’s actually ‘colly’ birds.” Ty sounded uptight and condescending. He always sounded uptight and condescending when he was losing control of a situation. There is nothing here to control, he told himself.

“Why, Tyler.” Marlie looked up at him and mercifully away from the lumberjack Jo in his unbuttoned flannel shirt. “I do know that, but I’m amazed that you do.”

“I took chorus for my Fine Arts credit in college,” he said, condescendingly. Stop that.

Mr. Five Gold Rings appeared. “A gymnast?” The photo had been taken during a competition. The man’s arm muscles bulged as he suspended himself by the ring apparatus.

“Look at that form,” Marlie said with admiration. “And gymnasts are so flexible.”

Ty waited. “Aren’t you going to say ‘he can run rings around me’ or something like that?”

“I was thinking that if he’s that good with two rings, he’ll be spectacular with five. That’s golden.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Mmm.” Marlie smiled a little smile as she typed.

Ty felt out of his depth, a totally foreign feeling. Depth like this was supposed to be his specialty.

“This next guy is all about laying.”

Of course he was.

Marlie clicked the mouse to bring up the next photo. Sure enough, there was a guy holding a goose. Shirtless. The man, not the goose. Though technically, the goose was already shirtless. “Axelle found these guys?” Ty’s voice was pitched higher than normal.

“Yes. Isn’t it great?”

Ty deliberately relaxed his throat. “Couldn’t she have found anyone with a hobby requiring clothes?”

“You mean like a sports uniform?”

“Yes.” Ty thought about baseball. “Exactly.”

Marlie brought up the next picture. “Behold. Seven Swans a Swimming.” She glanced up with mock innocence. “Check out the uniforms.”

Speedos. Speedos worn by men with no body fat. Or modesty. “The entire swim team?”

“No,” Marlie said, her voice regretful. “Just him.” She cropped the other men out and enlarged the remaining swimmer, not that he needed enlarging, a point amply made by the skin-tight suit. “But he’s enough, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Plenty.” Which one of them had been afraid no one would bid on him? Sheesh. Ty didn’t lack for self-confidence, but these guys were enough to make him add another mile to his morning run.

“And he’s a breast stroke champion. I should put that in the caption.”

“Marlie.” Tyler began to sweat. He’d never seen this side of her. He didn’t know she had this side. She should keep this side to herself. He didn’t want to be responsible.