The Importance of Undergarments at A science Fiction Convention Part X (10)

Part X (10)

Previously: “Trista, there are only three floors. There is no fourth floor. And what was that about back there when you said—”
“No fourth floor—is that what you think,” she said and grabbed me…well…let’s just leave it at that.

There comes a day in our lives when something both bizarre and wonderful happens. And I think that night in the elevator at that moment, it was my time. Call it fate, destiny, or whatever word works for you. The event changes us forever as it molds and shapes us into what we were meant to be. That was what happened to me that night that much I am sure of. My epiphany had finally arrived…

The only problem is that I don’t remember a damned thing!

I awoke in my hotel room on Sunday morning. I was naked and my body felt as if I had been run over by a tractor trailer…several times. The sound of the shower running indicated that I was not alone. A few minutes later Trista came out of the bathroom.

“Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning to you sweetie,” she said. “Sleep well,” she said and then winked at me.
“Ah…well I’m not sure,” I said because well…I wasn’t sure of much of anything at the moment.
“You should have,” she said with a very provocative edge to her voice. “You were very much on target last night.”
“Well that’s good,” I said without knowing what the hell she was talking about.

Of course one would associate that comment with the act of…well you know what. But at this point if I had not learned anything else, I had learned to not take anything at face value with Trista.

“Did we…ah—”
“Yes,” she continued, “you were quite helpful to a needy woman last night. You made my convention experience complete. I now understand it all.”
Trying to be subtle I asked, “So this on target was a good thing?”
“Oh yes,” she purred, “a very good thing and several times while we were on the 4th floor.”
“The fourth floor,” I said remembering the elevator and the button that only went to the three floors that the hotel claimed to have.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Ah…and because of what happened on the fourth floor, you now have a complete understanding of the convention experience?”
“Oh yes, and all thanks to you.”

Okay that was it. If this wasn’t a complete role reversal and the most bizarre occurrence I have ever had…or anyone else for that matter I don’t know what is. I had come to the con, scored with a beautiful woman, and couldn’t remember any of what I did on a floor that doesn’t exist. Yet here was Trista with this complete and utter look of contentment on her face and if she felt any more fulfilled she was going to need another room to fit her disposition in. Talk about not being fair—and yes I know what fair is—a place for cotton candy and rides. I wanted my due. I wanted a memory of the convention and I was going to have it.

“Well, I began in my best James Bond voice, “how about you come back to bed and—”
“We can’t honey, the fourth floor no longer exists,” she said matter of fact like.

To be continued…