Director Jenny Shepard's eyes roamed the room, absorbing the picture. There was no question, some of these people scrubbed up well: the men resplendent in their formal dinner suits and the woman in their tight colorful outfits. Abby was looking particularly stunning tonight in a little black number that looked like it had been painted around her torso with just a couple of extended pieces to cover the essentials.
Yes, the first inaugural NCIS/Navy charity ball had been a huge success due in no small part to its compulsory nature and the conspiratorial efforts of her Navy, Army and Air Force cohorts who had widely 'encouraged' attendance. Now it was time for the part of the evening where they justified the whole affair as a 'charity function' rather than a social gathering or 'networking opportunity'.
She climbed the stage carefully in her long elegant silver evening dress and approached the microphone ringing the side of her empty glass with a fork to attract attention. Slowly conversations petered and one by one the sea of eyes focused on her.
"Ladies and gentleman," she began, "I would like to thank you all for coming out here tonight."
"Like we had a choice," Tony muttered to McGee.
"I would like to thank our Navy band and the catering corps for their fine efforts." A polite round of applause trickled through the gathered captives. "And now we come to the most important part of our evening: the NCIS bachelor auction."
Tony and McGee stared at each other aghast: no one had mentioned this. A low noise rumbled through the room.
"Now don't tell me you didn't know," the Director called out above the din. "It was on the form you all signed agreeing to partake in 'fund raising activities'." The noise subsided to a malevolent murmur.
"I thought we were just going to stack the chairs," McGee grumbled.
"Ladies," the director continued unperturbed, "each gentleman I call to the stage is a verified bachelor. Their biographies have been kindly supplied by their female co-workers. Each man will go to the highest bidder and you have 24 hours to do with him what you will."
Female laugher twittered while male eyes flitted urgently around the walls and ceilings looking for means of escape. Marine guards seemed to have materialized at the exit doors.
"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, to the stage if you please," Jenny challenged.
From his position in the middle of the throng, Gibbs eyed the Director silently. She needed his example for the younger agents or this would never get off the ground. Fortunately, he had anticipated just such an incursion on his otherwise pleasant evening.
The Director read from a chart in front of her as he climbed the stairs: "Special Agent Gibbs, has a liking for redheads. He is a veteran of many wives and is in the final stages of completing the fourth boat in his basement." She looked around expectantly: "Any offers?"
"Three hundred dollars," Lt. Col. Hollis Mann smiled; Gibbs' gut had been right on the money.
Jenny raised a single eyebrow in Gibbs' direction. He shrugged. It was for charity: money was still money.
"Sold!"
As Gibbs made his way down from the stage she consulted her list. "Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard, eminent medical professional and now renowned psychologist. Ducky lives with his delightful mother, who is with us here tonight." Mrs Mallard waved happily while Ducky hung his head in embarrassment. The nurse was a last minute cancellation and the Director had kindly allowed his mother to attend at short notice. "Doctor Mallard has a wealth of experiences to share: bids Ladies?"
There was a hum of excitement around Ducky. A few healthy bids started flowing in from the more mature female members of the audience until proceedings were brought to a halt by: "five hundred American dollars," from Ziva standing next to Ducky's mother.
Ducky smiled gently at her.
"Sold!"
Mrs Mallard poked Ziva in the arm. "You've better get cracking," she warned, "I can't wait to become a grandmother forever."
Ziva smiled politely. "I thought we might get to know each other first."
Mrs Mallard closed in on her. "Let me see your panties – I can always judge a woman by her knickers."
Ziva held her ground and whispered in her ancient ear: "I'm not wearing any."
"Good girl!"
"Jimmy Palmer," the Director called from the stage. Jimmy shuffled nervously into the spotlight, his eyes anxiously scanning the sea of excited female faces. "Jimmy is a medical student who works out whenever he can: bids ladies."
The bidding did not even have a chance to get started before someone tapped the Director's arm with a large envelope. Frowning, she accepted the offering and read the outside. With all eyes on her, she peaked in at the contents and then sealed the envelope with a satisfied smile.
"It seems Mr Palmer has been claimed by a silent bidder. You are free to go, Mr Palmer."
Jimmy heaved a sigh of relief and scurried from the stage. A murmur went round the crowd.
"Ladies please," the Director started. "There are plenty more where he came from. For example: Special Agent Timothy McGee."
"What?" McGee had been so enthralled in the ongoing proceedings that then mention of his name took him entirely by surprise. Tony was already pushing him roughly towards the stage. "No, um, I don't think I can, um, make it tonight," he tried lamely. He managed to direct his route past Abby. "I'll pay any money you need to get me out of this," he promised.
Tony manhandled him up onto the stage, bowed theatrically, and left him there: alone and vulnerable in the glaring spotlight.
"Special agent McGee collects antiques and is a national best selling author." The Director paused for a moment to gauge the audience reaction. "He drives a Porsche, ladies."
The bidding exploded. A small group of ambitious women who had staked out the front of the stage almost came to blows. McGee watched horrified as tuffs of well coiffured hair cascaded through the air.
"Two thousand dollars!" The crowd went silent as they turned to stare at the tall raven-haired gothic woman. "If anyone has a problem with that, we'll take it outside."
The aggressive group in the front of the room retreated to lick their wounds.
"Sold to the charming Miss Scuito."
A wave of dizziness swept over McGee as Tony helped him from the stage and he very nearly passed out on the stairs. The piranah women, now sufficiently recovered, returned their attention to the front of the stage to stake out their next victim.
Having settled McGee to gasp and shake on the bottom step, Tony bounced back onto the stage. "Ladies," he announced presenting himself for inspection.
"Special agent Tony Dinozzo," the Director announced. "Known to most of you through sexual harassment orders, this man reportedly has the world's hairiest butt and is the only known sperm donor to have his contribution returned."
"Hey! Ma'am!"
"I didn't write it."
"Ziva….!" he could see her smirking in the distance.
The bidding started half-heartedly until a clear clean voice cut through the machinations.
"One hundred dollars!"
"Sold!"
Tony squinted against the spotlight to see the woman he would be love slave to for the next 24 hours. His jaw dropped.
"I'm in the mood for a gigolo," Mrs Mallard grinned.