Convention Plans
Chapter 2
Sarah Marker stood in the elevator once again without any shoes on. Again, no one seemed to notice. No one noticed her lack of underwear either. Sarah noticed, however. She noticed any time her polyester skirt rubbed against her clitoris, which was swelling already.
She walked across the convention floor toward the booth, wearing nothing but her skirt, a green blouse and a bra underneath. She sat in her chair next to Luke, feeling the stitch of her skirt pulling against her naked bottom.
“Missed you again last night. Are you feeling okay?” Luke asked. He also looked down to see that his co-worker wasn’t wearing shoes again.
No, I’m not okay! she wanted to tell him. Something very odd and very scary is happening to me! I’d probably be acting frightened out of my mind if I wasn’t feeling perpetually horny since this convention began!
Instead, she told him that she had been sick to her stomach. As she said this, she suddenly realized that she could use this as an excuse just to go home early.
“Well, if it gets any worse, you can just go back to your room. I’m sure I can handle things here.”
Her hotel room was the last place she wanted to go back to. “Gosh, I hope that this doesn’t get any worse. I might have to go back home early,” she said.
“Yeah, I don’t know if that would happen,” said Luke, looking out across the growing crowd in the convention area. “H.R. would be pretty upset if it was paying for plane tickets that weren’t getting used.”
Sarah felt a shot of cool air chill her thighs and realized that she was sitting with her legs wide open. She crossed her legs under the counter and stayed focused on what Luke was saying. “I’m not going to be much good though if I’m constantly in danger of getting sick on one of our visitors.”
Luke looked at her, his eyes analyzing her features looking to see how sick she was. “I guess if it really gets bad, you could go to the emergency room.” Luke started ticking off boxes on an itemized list. “That would probably be a get-out-of-jail card with H.R.”
Sarah imagined not only going to the hospital and doctors discovering nothing wrong with her, but also dressing in one of those flimsy hospital gowns and not being able to get her regular clothes back on again.
“I’m sure it’s just a 24-hour bug. I can deal.”
So the two of them again worked the booth, handing out letter-openers and squeeze balls emblazoned with their company’s logo on it. Before lunch, Luke handed her a clipboard.
“Now would be a good time to grab some email addresses for marketing. Tell ’em we’ll be giving away a Visa gift card this afternoon.”
Sarah stood up, smoothing her skirt, for a moment forgetting there wasn’t anything underneath it. It didn’t take long for her to remember. She looked down at her bare feet.
“Maybe you can do it? I don’t want to pass off any of my sickness to the attendees,” she said.
“Ha,” said Luke. He followed her her eyes down to her bare feet. “I don’t know what’s up with you, but in any case, I think you’d be a much more successful at attracting people’s attention right now than I ever could.”
Sarah sighed and looked out over the crowd. Perhaps the more she acted like today was no big deal, like what was happening to her up in the room was just something she was dealing with privately, she could grab some signatures and put up with what seemed like the best-case scenario to this situation.
“Give me that,” Sarah said in a mockingly bossy tone, snatching the clipboard from Luke’s hands. “How many you think I’ll get by noon? Twenty-five? Fifty?”
Luke was taken aback, but impressed. “Shoot, with that attitude, I figure we’ll get 200 signatures and take a long lunch.”
There was something about approaching these strange conference attendees, most of them men, all the while wearing only three articles of clothing. In any other situation, it would be them approaching her. But there she was, standing in the middle of a convention hall, flirting with these people, touching them on the shoulder to get their attention, cocking her head just so while maintaining eye-contact, all the while her skirt rubbing against her naked clit, her bare toes clinging to the rug for dear life, acting like it was all completely normal.
The more she thought about how ridiculous it was, the more carefree she was getting. One guy about thirty, with curly brown hair and wide shoulders, nonchalantly patted her on the ass as they parted, saying into her ear that he wouldn’t miss the afternoon drawing for the world. It was at that point that the layered noise of the exhibition floor began to hum all at once inside her ears. She could not only feel the blood throbbing through her head, but also inside her sex.
She closed her eyes for a second, there in the middle of the convention floor, and when she opened them up again and looked down, she saw a list of names and email addresses that coursed through at least a dozen pages, if not twenty. If there were 25 blanks on each page, well, Luke had better buy her some lunch.
The lucky winner of the Visa card had been this bald guy from the same city as headquarters. All in all though, Sarah had handled the day. The frustration over the shoes in the convenience store, the madness behind her not wearing underwear today - it was all wearing off. She felt relieved at the fact that she had plodded through another conventional day without anything appearing out of whack. When Luke suggested dinner at the adjacent restaurant, she had no problem accepting.
“Well you took the bull by the horns today, Sarah,” Luke said, sipping off a fresh Molson.
“It’s weird, I guess, but when you’re surrounded by people who don’t know you - and can’t immediately judge you - it’s easy to make friends, I guess.”
“Ha,” said Luke. “Like you would ever have problems making friends.”
“What does THAT mean?” Sarah felt a slight buzz from the white wine she was drinking, but the question was legitimate. It’s not like she felt this empowered back at home.
‘Nothing,” said Luke. He looked her over again. “So. How are you feeling now? No stomach trouble?”
Whatever it was that had been happening to her felt like ancient history. It was disturbing, no question, but making the “empowered” decision to just accept what was happening in the present seemed to be working for her.
“No tummy trouble,” she swirled her wine around in circles. “I’m all good, Luke.”
There had been “The Daily Show” on the TV behind the bar. A couple of attendees who were pretty adamant about their college football team. Luke at one point saying how attractive it was to see a woman say the hell with shoes at an important annual convention.
But now, she was drunk. She knew where she was and who she was with, but the hallways were spinning and she leaned into Luke who was helping her to her room.
“Where’s your key, Sarah?” he asked. She leaned her head against the wall.
“I guess in my pocket somewhere. How ’bout you find it.”
He wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her up and with his other hand, dug out her hotel keycard. The feeling of him holding her up suddenly felt familiar, but hey, she wasn’t quite the straightest specimen on Earth right now.
He led her into her room, letting go at the edge of the bed. She fell into the comforter.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
The room was tilting, spinning. The last two nights she had fallen asleep, everything had been normal. She didn’t know how to answer Luke’s question.
“Hey,” she started. “Something weird is going on.”
He patted her leg. If he only knew how close he was to her exposed pussy... “You had a lot to drink,” he said.
No. “No, Luke,” she said.
He sat on the edge of the bed. She thought he was a bit impatient.
“Luke, I – ” All right, she was about to say it, “I can’t wear my shoes.”
His eyebrows went up. “You can’t wear your shoes?”
Noooo. She was starting to fade fast and didn’t even know if she was speaking out loud.
She remembered Luke smiling. Then either he was in the bathroom or he had gone back to his room. Either way, the room spun faster and the only relief she got was from closing her eyes.
Finally, she looked up at the ceiling and realized the room was more blue than yellow. Everything was staying in one place, at least. She breathed a sigh of relief and when she did, she felt her bare breasts shudder with her breathing.
She was naked again. Her clothes on the floor next to the bed.
She sat up and swung her legs to the floor. She knew if it was going to happen again, it was going to happen while she was getting dressed. So she took her time in the shower and brushed her teeth au natural.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her open suitcase. She found that she could put on a pair of panties and a bra on, but nothing else. The skirts wouldn’t fit. The blouses wouldn’t button. She didn’t even try the shoes.
She did take several deep breaths. She was going to have to figure out a combination. Down to two. Fortunately, she had packed a little spaghetti-strapped yellow blouse to wear over her swimsuit at the pool. Instead, she’d be wearing that for her penultimate day at the convention and a black skirt made of cotton.
She wore two items of clothing, and for the time being, boy was she happy that she had been able to get that far.