The Importance of Undergarments & Conventions- A Continuing Story-Part VII (7)

Part VII(7)

Suddenly she reached out and grabbed my wrist. I was shocked and yet at the same time I felt a surge of goose bumps envelop my entire body…I say again…my entire body! For a few seconds she didn’t say anything but just looked at me intently. I felt as if I couldn’t move, but then I didn’t want to anyway.

Maintaining that grip, she said, “I’m confused.”

“Well join the club darlin,” I answered. “Everyone here is confused in some way or another. That’s part of the con experience. We come to escape.”

Her stare seemed to become vacant for a few moments as if she was thinking about something completely distant or she was having dinner with Elvis. Yet she maintained her grip on me and I have to admit...I was pretty excited about it. My name is Bond...James Bond...

Finally she spoke, “I am sensing your elevated hormones which are focusing on the sexual aspect.”

"Say what?" I said aloud and then I muttered numerous and sundry silent curses. I too was feeling the elevation…so to speak. I felt very transparent and a wee bit embarrassed. I crossed my legs.

“Yet,” she continued, “I sense that there is much more you are not telling me. Where I am wrong in my information?”

Her hand slid from my wrist and down to my hand where she maintained a firm grip. Her hand was warm and very inviting. I was about to grasp it with my other free hand (Yes, I was still plying the sex angle--damn it!) when she spoke.

“Tell me,” she said again. “How is my information incorrect?”

“Well your information isn’t really wrong,” I said starting to back pedal quickly before I ruined an all too good to be true scenario. “Let's start from the beginning. Maybe you can tell me where you got your information from?” I asked.

“Well, I read about it the literature on the table in the hallway. The one where there are stacks of paper which are free.”

“The freebie table?”

“Yes,” she said and then acquired a puzzled look on her face. “The name is curious. In terms of slang, it constitutes an act between a man and woman—”

“Not exactly,” I said and then added quickly, “Look a Klingon,” I said pointing at someone at the bar. I needed a few moments to regroup and…reorganize. I was beginning to feel like I was on a game show: What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment or How to Screw Up an Opportune Moment…where is she getting this stuff from!

“Interesting,” she said as she returned her glance back to me, “more of the experience as you say?”

“Of course,” I said and launched into a big sigh of relief. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“The fourth floor,” she said casually.

“But that’s just where you are— oh never mind,” I said not wanting to tempt fate any further. This conversation was becoming like the Abbott and Costello routine: Whose on First? (for you "younger folks" you haven’t lived until you have—go here for an audio sampler of it: http://www.phoenix5.org/humor/WhoOnFirst.html)

“So you were saying earlier?” I asked.

“You were explaining the true significance of the freebie table.”

“Right. Well you can’t believe everything you read over there…there’s a lot of stuff there that doesn’t have an ounce of truth to it.”

“Then why is it there if it contains incorrect information?”

“Well maybe incorrect is not the right word,” I said. “The table is a place for people that might be marketing either an event, like another convention, or there are things there from writers that are marketing their own work. There are magazines, buttons, pens and a whole bunch of stuff. But youhave to keep in mind, its allself serving so there might be some truth strectching going on.

“Ah I see now how I may have made the wrong assertion,” she said.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what else did you read from there?”

“Well there was this magazine I picked up, the title was a temperature reference or something, and I was reading a story about a man and woman that drove into a parking lot. She asked him to park in a dark area and—”

“Whoa…” I exclaimed.

To be continued…