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“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s a good idea.”

He went over to the rack and began spinning it, carefully checking grade, cover gloss, and spine-damage.

“Morgan! Just grab some! They don’t have to be in mint condition to hide your dick!”

“Oh, yeah. That’s true,” he said and pulled a bunch from the wire holders—making sure not to get duplicates—then noticed the regular racks nearby. “Hey. Can I get some magazines, too?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

I saw him grab Playboy, Perfect 10, and other breast-related glossies. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“Morgan. You can go sit out on the street corner, and watch naked girls for free.”

He glanced at the door, then at the magazine, and finally back to me.

“Yeah,” he said, holding up some glossy porn, “but the girls in here aren’t supposed to be naked. That makes it—I don’t know—more fun somehow.”

I remembered Ms. Nuckeby’s comments about my erection on the beach, and I wondered if clothing actually did more to feed lust than nudity. If I were a scientist, that would be a great way to spend lots of government research money.

“All right,” I said, “whatever. Bring them here.”

I put my chocolates on the counter, and Morgan dropped his collection of magazines on top of them. A short, round woman with large, pendulous breasts glided over to us, rosy cheeked and perky. She seemed a genuinely happy person, and given my experience with Sophie, the receptionist, and the bellman, I supposed that’s what the hotel strove for in the hiring of their employees. A nametag stuck just below her collarbone, far above her dangling left nipple read ‘SANDY’.

“Will that be all?” she asked pleasantly. Her smile was sincere and quite catching.

“I think so. Can you put that on a room charge?”

“Of course!” she said, bouncing. Sandy must be related to Sophie. “You folks are in town for the Soiree, I imagine?”

“No. We’re here for…um…other reasons.”

“Oh. Well, you can still enjoy it anyway, as long as you’re in town, right?” She laughed and patted my hand sweetly as she took our things, and I found myself taking an immediate liking to her.

“There’s a dance and party tonight, you know,” she said, bouncing again, her voice lilting as she grinned at us, knowingly. “Lots of pretty girls.”

She glanced down at Morgan’s pet flea. “There’s even a few won’t mind a guy with a little one.”

Morgan gasped and moved a comic to cover his minimal groin. She hadn’t meant it as an insult, but for a man, it’s hard to take that kind of comment any other way.

“We also have the auction,” she said, “and that’s always a lot of fun. But you know about that already I imagine.”

“Actually, no, we don’t,” Morgan said, sounding hopeful. “What kind of auction? Like toys? Comics?”

“No, people,” she said. “It’s one of those charity things. Some of the locals and a few out-of-town regulars auction themselves off to the highest bidder, and they have to stay with the winner, and do whatever that person says throughout the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, right,” I said, wincing, remembering painfully how I’d done that once myself. My sister finally bought me when no one else would. Seven bucks.

“Some of the out-of-towners even get up on stage for a laugh, and go for at least a few bucks. Especially if they’re cute.” She grinned at me with significance, and I worried that maybe she was bidding on me already.

“I don’t know if that kind of thing appeals to you,” she continued, “but it is for charity, and it can be a lot of fun. My kids are doing it this year, although I wish my oldest wouldn’t. It’s only going to stir up trouble. But she’s so headstrong, that one.”

I wondered if Sophie was the oldest, or if that might be one of Sandy’s other children, Biffy, Miffy, or Rex.

“Why’s it going to stir up trouble?” I asked.

“Because she’s pretty, and a lot of men like her, and one in particular is going to bid up the price until only he can afford her. Then he’ll make her miserable for two whole nights, and days.”

“So, why does she