~~ Las Vegas, January 2067 ~~
The convention was more chaotic than she expected, but she would persevere. Isabella moved quickly through the convention center until she arrived beside Leslie. "Oh good, you're here," Leslie beamed at her and tugged her into a hug. Isabella went limp to conserve oxygen as she found herself pressed into Leslie's chest. After a moment she was released, and a keycard was pulled over her head, "You're at table twelve with a few others. Try and have a good time, love."
"Yes, Boss. Anything you say, Boss. You're the boss, Boss." Isabella responded with a droll tone. "Shall I perform miracles for you too, Boss? Dancing bears next, Boss?"
Leslie laughed, and pushed Isabella towards the hall, "Go, have fun, that's an order."
Isabella sighed, then straightened her pack and entered the crowd again, this time on the inside of the hall. She plastered the small, slightly distant professional smile on her face and moved through and around the clusters of people towards her table. She hated wearing heels, but she was far too short without them. Table twelve was currently empty and she slipped into a chair with a sigh of relief, slipping her feet out of the heels and flexing her toes with a sigh. A waiter delivered a glass of sparkling cider and a plate of hors d'oeuvres for her pleasure. "Thank you," she murmured, giving the man a kind smile.
The awards got started, people clustered at their tables. A few others joined her but after only a moment of small talk, they went silent, to look up at the stage. The time dragged on, but Isabella stayed focused to remember who got what so that when Leslie quizzed her later she had answers. Finally, a man stepped up to the podium, "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Now as you know every year we celebrate not only our actors and actresses but our costume designers, our camera crews, and everyone else who makes these things happen." He paused, "Tonight, we'd like to give a special thanks to Isabella Jascor, and give her the award for the best costume design we've seen in many years. Come on up, Miss Jascor."
Isabella swallowed, then slid her feet back into her heels to stand up and carefully walk up the stairs to the stage, "Thank you," she murmured with a soft voice that still seemed to carry.
"No, thank you," he said, pressing his hand at the small of her back to bring her further into the spotlight, "Miss Jascor is with Angel's Den and has been the lead designer creating the authentic period costumes that we've enjoyed so much. Her most notable work received an award earlier tonight, 'Pirate's Passion'." He turned to smile down at Isabella, "Would you like to say a few words?"
She swallowed, her eyes going wide, then murmured, "Thank you, this is... an unexpected honor and I am truly grateful." Isabella smiled, "I'd also like to thank Leslie Jameson and her husband Mark for taking a chance on the kid fresh out of college." Her nose wrinkled, "Umm... yeah, thank you, I didn't expect this."
He laughed amicably, and gestured, "You're adorable."
She smiled, then turned and quickly scampered back to her seat, most of the audience laughed good-naturedly, and her tablemate clapped her arm, "Didn't expect that did you?"
"No, and I'm going to thump Leslie for it too," she giggled, covering her face with her hands, "I don't do public speaking, I make things."
"You did good kiddo, you did good," said one of the older men before they turned back to watch the rest of the awards.
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Paul parked at the convention center at Virgin Hotels, Las Vegas, and sighed. Making and programming robotics was so much easier than trying to sell the concepts, he thought to himself as he shifted his car into park and shut it off. Taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths, he got out of the large rental van and walked around back. Opening up the two, swinging back doors, he unlatched and got out the two, wheeled carts, and began loading them with the parts for his booth that had not already been delivered as well as a couple of his prototypes and some display gear. Locking the van back up, he trudged to the freight elevator and showed his pass to the guard there before taking it up to the convention hall floor.
It took him nearly eight hours to set up his booth by himself, but as a lone entrepreneur, there was no one else. He was a company of one, and while there were many days that he enjoyed the freedom to pursue whatever pet project or feature he felt like at the time, there were also days like today, where he would have done just about anything for some help.
Once the booth was set up, however, he nodded in satisfaction. It was not as opulent as many of the big names, but he felt like it displayed his content well. He split the stack of business cards he had into several smaller stacks, putting a few out around the display pieces on the now cloth-covered tables. From somewhere there was loud clapping and a cheer and he lifted his head looking around. It finally occurred to him that it must be the AVN awards ceremony. The 'Emmy's of the Adult Film Industry' as it was often described.
When he was done, he took a long pull of the large bottle of water that sat on his cooler and his stomach growled. Sighing, he mumbled to himself something about convention hotel food and exorbitant pricing before wandering off to find something to eat. For what had to be the eightieth time that day alone, he sighed in frustration that he had to be at the convention center so long every day for four days to network and make contacts instead of being able to sleep at home on his own bed. As he sat alone in the booth of the Ichiban Steak House eating a Kobe steak and baked potato with salad, he allowed his mind to shut off, trying to mentally prepare for the first day of the three-day convention.
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Isabella followed behind Leslie as she walked through the convention trade floor, listening only partially as she continued to sketch on her iPad. "Yes, Boss, anything you say, Boss." She murmured as they worked the first half of the floor.
"And we've been invited to the Moorwind Industries Munch this year, so I'm sending you as our representative," Leslie said with a beaming smile.
"Yes, Boss, anything you... wait, what?" Isabella's head snapped up, "You can't be serious, this is a big move, you should be the one to go."
"Ahh, but," Leslie turned around and smooshed Isabella's cheeks together, "They want to meet my lead designer, my little babushka, so, you will go, and I will have sexing with Mark."
Isabella stared up at her deadpan even as Leslie squished her cheeks together forcing her lips into a duckface, "You can't be serious," came out, partially muffled.
"Oh, very serious, you will go, you will have fun. That's an order. Relax, Michael and Annabelle are great people. I've talked to them several times." Leslie said, then released her to continue, "You might want to go get something nice to wear, I'll give you the rest of the day off, it's tomorrow night at eight."
"Shit," Isabella stared after her, then sighed and slumped, turning to walk out.
Suddenly she felt her arm grabbed, and one of the actresses she had designed costumes for beamed down at her, "ISABELLA! You're coming with me."
"Wait, what?" Isabella found herself towed along behind the woman, her face a mask of confusion, "Lavender, what are you doing?"
"Well, my little award winner, we were permitted to bring a guest, and I'm bringing you." She led Isabella deeper into the room, then past a set of velvet ropes, "We're kidnapping you, then we'll go shopping with you later."
"Yes, Lavender," she sighed and allowed Lavender to lead her into the group. On the left lounging around were most of the men from the videos, wearing little to nearly nothing. Most had on just a thong and were flexing for the women that were there. Arranged on the right, where the women lounged similarly, only they had a little bit more on.
Lavender beamed down at her, then pushed her slightly towards the men, "Go, have some fun, enjoy yourself."
Isabella looked at the men, then turned and headed towards one of the women that were half-hidden in the back with long bright red hair, "Now, I get to ask the question I've been dying to know."
The woman looked up at her, briefly in confusion, then smiling at her, "Shouldn't you be drooling on the men, dear?"
"Nah, if I wanted a telephone pole between my nethers I'd buy a toy, it'd be less to keep fed." Isabella said with a bright grin, then she plopped down beside her, "What I want to know is how the hell do you keep your hair looking so fantastic? I roll out of bed and my hair looks like a tornado went off." The women around her laughed and laughed, the rest of the afternoon was spent chattering away, then Lavender took Isabella shopping for the perfect dress to wear.
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Attending a convention is often entertaining. Being able to walk a hall and see different display booths, talk with businesses and ask questions can be both interesting and stimulating. Working at a convention, on the other hand, is both stressful and boring at the same time. There is so much glad-handing that happens that wearing a fake smile becomes painful after so long.
Standing next to the display table, just at the aisle, Paul's jaw hurt from smiling so much. He had participated in a few good conversations, but the day wore on him as it continued and he tried not to think about the fact that he had two more just like it to look forward to. He was grateful that the convention hall actually shut down for a couple of hours during the day, once at mid-day and another in the evening for lunch and dinner as it allowed him to take off the happy mask and move around a bit.
It was just after the dinner break, about seven-fifteen, that a tall man with a mustache and thin beard, shoulder-length black hair, and dark eyes in a sport coat and polo shirt with slacks walked up to him. With him was a stunning dark-haired woman in a lavender dress. The way she carried herself relative to him gave her proclivities away much faster than even the heavy metal collar around her neck would have had he not noticed that too.
"Are you Paul Thornton?" the man asked.
"I am. A pleasure to meet you...," he trailed off, the smile on his face fixed as he held out his hand to greet him.
The man took his hand and shook firmly, "Michael Moorwind, CEO Moorwind Industries. The pleasure is mine." He paused, then continued, "I've been meaning to get over here after talking to some of my colleagues. There aren't very many higher-end automated electronic toymakers in this business, and I try to make it a point to know them all."
Paul chuckled, "Well, as someone relatively new to the business, I'm not surprised you hadn't heard of me yet, but it's good to meet you. Fortunately for me, I happen to know a little bit about Moorwind. You guys do good quality work. And your education initiatives are something communities of similar-minded people and those starting out have sorely needed. So thank you for that. I've pointed some friends of mine at them myself."
