Questing4Aldonza
Posts: 58
Joined: 7/14/2004
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Goth Girl
The Mylar crinkled loudly as Lonnie clutched his pre-registration bag tight in his fist, moving with a swift purposefulness through the bustling dormitory halls. Rented out as cheap housing for the convention, the building was packed full of gamers who coalesced into little tidepools of collectible card battles, as well as the odd assemblage of old-schoolers who still broke out the rulebooks and dice.
Normally, Lonnie would take his time, ambling along and rubbernecking the various games, perhaps even trying to sit in on a particularly good one, but that day he went straight to his small, stuffy room.
He was flushed and breathing had by the time he shut the door behind him, and not all of it due to the harsh August heat.
He tossed the bag unopened onto a chair and yanked his soft-bodied suitcase from the bed before dropping heavily upon it with a loud squeal of springs. He could feel his heart still hammering away inside his chest. His eyelids fluttered shut and his hand slipped up underneath the waistband of his jeans.
He sighed, and thought back to her.
He’d been waiting in the interminable pre-registration line when it happened. Despite the openness of the convention center’s atrium and a bank ow windows along the wall, the area had a gloomy, closed-in feel, due no doubt in large part to the hot, muggy atmosphere brought about by a couple of hundred sweaty gamers all milling about, waiting their turn.
He was already bored, and his feet were starting to hurt. His cheeks puffed as he blew out a long exasperated breath; and just then he happened to turn his head and see her...
...See them, actually. A gaggle or flight or murder or whatever one called a group of Goth girls. With the rise of W. Wolf Games, their presence had steadily increased at each convention, not that Lonnie would ever have complained. He found them darkly exotic, aloof and enticing, but hopelessly out of his league.
But as they moved by, in a tightly knight formation that made them seem like a living storm cloud, she turned and looked straight back at him; a pale face from a swirling sea of black.
They held each other’s gaze for less than a second, but for Lonnie the experience rocked him, electrified him. She smirked, as if knowing, before turning away and disappearing down the cavernous passageways with her friends. But a scent lingered in the air - like vanilla, only not - and he would swear it was hers, skin cream or soap, he couldn’t say. It teased him the rest of his time in line, and haunted him for the entire bus ride back to campus.
He spent the remainder of the afternoon pleasuring himself, consumed with thoughts of her beautiful, ghostly face, and of the lithe pale body that lay beneath all her severe finery and if she tasted the same as she smelled.
But the one thought that his fevered imagination would never have possibly conjured, would indeed have rejected straight out, was that at the very same moment, in her spacious hotel suite, she lay atop her own bed, her long thin fingers exploring the very unclothed and agitated object of his obsession, all the while dreaming of him.
*
Lonnie returned to the convention center early the next morning, drained, but in high spirits. Like a lot of his fellow conventioneers, he planned on hitting the Great Hall upon its opening for some shopping before spending the rest of the day playing games. After buying an overpriced soda and a hot dog for breakfast, he took up a spot along a wall near the doors to the Hall and sat down on the floor. In all directions felt mats were being laid out on the cold stone floor, decks were taken out of plastic and cardboard cases, shuffled, and laid out in a panoply of intricate designs as people passed the time until the doors swung wide and the Con enjoyed its unofficial start.
Lonnie usually enjoyed watching the spectacle unfold all around him, savoring the knowledge that he was surrounded by other like him, others who wouldn’t laugh or mock and to whom “geek” was something of a badge of honor.
But that morning, not surprisingly, his mind continued to harken back to that beautiful, unattainable Goth girl.
And then a shadow fell upon him, and his ears were filled with the unmistakably cruel sound of girlish snickering.
Lonnie lifted up his head and as he did, his jaw dropped in utter astonishment. The whole pack of them stood just a few feet away, and she stood in the lead, gazing back down at him with a cool bemusement as her compatriots continued to whisper and giggle.
For a moment, he half-wondered if he hadn’t lapsed back into one of his fantasies - the sudden sharp memory of his previous afternoon’s daydreams causing his face to redden all the way up to his hairline from shame.
Her eyes twinkled and her smile grew a bit broader.
“I know what you want,” she said in a even, calm voice that nevertheless seemed to carry throughout the hall, making even the most ardent card monkeys turn their heads and take notice. Lonnie, for his part, suddenly found himself squirming under all the unwelcome attention, praying desperately that it all was just another dream.
“Prove to me that I am right,” she added, reaching down along the blizzard of black lace around her ankles; raising up her skirt just high enough to reveal a severe, Victorian-looking shoe that climbed halfway up her calf.
Lonnie felt a colt jolt of adrenaline shoot throughout his body. Without even fully understanding how or why, he was suddenly crawling forward, much to the vociferous delight of her friends. The smell of her - like vanilla, only not - again flooded his nostrils, making him sway dizzily even on all fours. His face positively glowed crimson and his whole frame shook by the time he reached her feet. Pursing his lips, he planted a single, trembling kiss upon the toe of her shoe.
She said nothing in reply. His mind racing, he extended his tongue and ran it over the old, smooth leather of the vamp and then across the outer welt. He could hear her hum thoughtfully, sounding vaguely satisfied, and she lifted her foot up on its heel, presenting him with the sole. Wincing slightly, he awkwardly twisted his body and craned his neck to get up under her foot, dragging his tongue over the hard, slightly gritty bottom of her elegant shoe, energetic if not entirely enthusiastic.
“Enough,” she said as last, pulling her foot away. He lay there, breathless and stunned at his own responses.
“Stand up,” she said, he voice clearly brooking no argument.
He clambered to his feet and face-to-face the disparity between them was extraordinary. He towered above her, a good head taller than anyone else in her group, and his broad, heaving shoulders would have blocked the lot of them from sight, had there been another person standing behind him.
Now he stared down into her eyes, and yet he still had the same anxious, confused, yet oh-so-eager quality to his expression as before.
She looked up and smiled, a bit more warmly than before. He felt her thrust a piece of paper into his hands.
“There is a drug store across the street. Six blocks due west from here is an adult bookstore that sells sex toys. You will go to both places and purchase all the items on this list,” she said, her clipped tones a bit quieter now, so that only he and her retinue could properly make out the words.
“My room number is at the bottom. You have two hours to make your purchases and return. If you should fail in this...”
Her face suddenly adopted a pouty look, but her eyes never lost their hard clarity.
“I will simply have to find someone else to be my plaything for the weekend.”
“No,” he said, his voice a tight, strained whisper.
Her smile returned and she reached out one pale, cool hand to caress his hot cheek.
“No. I think not. You will come back on time. I have chosen well, I think. I always do.”
She gave his cheek a little pat and spun on her heels, the others wheeling in unison. She paused to glance back over her shoulder and said, sternly, “Two hours.” and departed in another whirl of dark, rustling fabric.
The sound of the paper rattling in has hands cut through his dazed stupor. Looking down, he saw she wrote in a florid, but elegant script.
1: Enema Bag. 2 qt. Minimum.
2: Dildo. 7-9 inches. Minimum.
The list went on. And on.
Over the PA system the Grand Hall was officially declared open, the doors swinging wide to raucous cheers and a smattering of applause.
A cool trickle of sweat tickled the back of his neck and Lonnie sucked in a long, gasping breath before hastily checking his watch.
End of Part 1(?)
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"Freedom! Horrible, horrible freedom!"
An Ant
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