The convention ran from Friday to Sunday; so by the time the sun was setting on Saturday, everyone was getting in the mood to party. Not that you could easily
tell
the sun was going down from inside the sprawling convention centre/hotel complex, a comfortably dull cluster of beige rectangles that did little to encourage guests to go outside. Which was kind of a shame, it being a beautiful Spring evening in California, but I don't think any of us were there for pleasant walks at sunset. So it was mostly over and there was one last night for the nerds, geeks, and otaku to have fun, and we were all looking to make the most of it. Sometimes mundanes are surprised to see how hard geeks can party; but if you put a bunch of highly enthusiastic people in big toy store with no judgement for a weekend, some of them are going to get crazy. (Also, a lot of them are college kids with no supervision and easy access to booze, so there's that.)
Anna had gone off on her own to take one last go around the cosplay hall in her newly-completed Lina Inverse costume; she'd been working on it for ages and wanted to show it off as much as possible. Obviously I'm super biased, but I think it's great – she looks just like the Queen of Destruction! Or at least, like Lina
would
look, if Lina was half-Chinese and substantially curvier. But, curiously enough, none of the guys who usually nitpick and quibble over tiny details ever seem to complain that she doesn't look right because her tits and ass are too big. Though occasionally some asshole will complain that the rest of her is – Anna's thick & curvy, not slim & stacked – but fuck 'em. (If they don't appreciate real women, they can stick to jerking off.) Anyway, her costume was fucking great and she wanted people to see it. (She's not totally happy with the wig, but then she never is.) It's actually pretty tame by her standards, doesn't show much skin even if it is pretty tight in certain places; I think she wanted to play it safe after her Emma Frost costume almost got her thrown out of the last con. I guess we were lucky the staff didn't know about the impromptu bukkake session she held in an unused meeting rooms – she really was the White Queen!
We'd arranged to meet up at a party some friends were throwing in their suite later in the evening, so in the mean while I had some time to kill. Didn't really fancy any of the panels being held, so I just went for a leisurely wander through the halls. Spent a little while in the retro gaming corner, my old-skool skills standing me in good stead until I made the mistake of trying the original '98
Dance Dance Revolution
cabinet. I remember being pretty good at that, back in the day, so I stepped up to be absolutely ruined by a man twice my size and considerably more graceful. Guess I'm out of practice, that or getting old. (Actually, if DDR counts as retro now then probably the latter.) I shook his hand, complimented him on his Char Aznable helmet, and stepped down. That done, I swung through the dealer's hall once more, just in case there were any last-minute bargains to be had from vendors in a hurry to close up and get partying. Nothing especially caught my eye, except for a pair of classic-style cat ears; in all my years of otakudom I'd never actually had any, so I decided to make good on that. I figured it would make Anna laugh, if nothing else. Popping them on, I decided to leave before I impulsively bought something expensive and impractical. (Spend enough time in these places and eventually you realise how little self-control you have and can plan accordingly.) On the way out I got somewhat distracted by a pair of very fetching cosplayers just outside the hall – Poison & Roxy, striking some . . .
suggestive
poses. At least they were until I asked if I could take some pictures, then they went full-on
lewd
. I snapped away and hoped they couldn't tell how stiff I was getting under my jeans. (Wishful thinking on my part, I'm not that big.) Not gonna lie, I was wondering about, you know; but it seemed rude to ask. So I thanked them for the photos, made a note of their Instagrams, and turned to leave. One of them smacked me on the ass as I left, couldn't tell which.
By now the evening was well under way, so I headed back to our room to freshen up before the party, weaving through packs of partially-inebriated nerds, around spontaneous
Pokémon
tournaments, and dodging random glompers. (Not that I don't enjoy being aggressively hugged by overexcited geek girls, but . . .) Anyways I made it back to the room unmolested, took a quick shower, and put on some clean clothes, along with my new ears. (Going to a convention? Shower frequently and change your clothes.
Do it
.)
Finding the party turned out to be both easier and harder than I'd expected; by the time I got to the right floor, a bunch of individual shindigs had spilled out of their respective rooms and suites and sort of agglomerated into one big ambient nerd-riot. Booze & candy fuelled revellers congregated in every corner, the babble of a dozen overlapping conversations mixing with j-pop playing from various laptops, phones, and Bluetooth speakers. Though I recognised a few people, I couldn't immediately see anyone I really knew; but everyone was friendly and there was a happy energy in the crowd, so I found myself a drink and wandered round making small talk. There was a plus-size Wonder Woman across the room who looked real familiar, and I couldn't work out if she was the one who'd fucked me like six months back? The curse of only meeting people when they're dressed up as someone else. A little while later I found myself in an informative if one-sided conversation with a pale, excitable grognard who was talking enthusiastically about halberds, when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Making my excuses, I backed off into a corner and pulled it out; as I'd hoped, it was from Anna. A photo, to be exact – couldn't really tell what it was from the thumbnail, so I hastily unlocked my phone and opened it. As always when I got an unknown photo from her, I felt a thrill of anticipation, whatever would it be? (It probably wasn't going to be a cute dog or a note telling me to get milk on the way home.)
Up popped a picture of my darling Anna, who bore the broad goofy smile of someone desperately trying to keep a straight face and failing utterly. Above her floated the caption 'EEEEK! ZOMBIES!' in a horror-comic font, presumably added in one of those Instagram filters she's forever fiddling with. And indeed she was in the traditional 'swarmed by ravenous undead' pose, totally 'helpless' as countless arms reached from out of shot to grab at her. Contrary to established zombie lore however, almost all of the hands were zeroing in on her chest; somehow I don't think it was her
brains
they were after. I grinned, pocketed my phone, and went in search of another drink. Wandering happily down the corridor, I turned my head to check out this dude's customised Nintendo Power Glove at precisely the wrong moment; or in retrospect, at precisely the
right
moment. I looked back in time to see her stepping out of the doorway in front of me, but not in time to actually do anything about it.
I managed to garble something between a warning and an apology, and then the two of us were stumbling helplessly in a confusion of limbs. We didn't actually go down, though we did collide with a bedside table that had somehow ended up in the hallway. There was one of those random quiet moments when every conversation happens to pause, just in time for a bunch of spent Mountain Dew bottles to go clattering across the floor. I winced, steadied myself, scrambled to grab the bottles before anyone else fell over, and then turned to apologise to the woman I'd blundered into.
"Hell, I'm sorry! Are you alright?" For the first time I got a clear look at her; looking very familiar, and very attractive. She seemed mostly concerned about her outfit, which after living with Anna for a year I totally understood. Fortunately her costume, a cream-white dress rising to a very revealing bustier/bra/bikini thing that was mostly straps, seemed intact.
"Yeah yeah, I'm fine," she replied, straightening the knee-length cape that hung from her shoulders, "you?" Brushing a strand of platinum-blonde hair from her face, she looked up at me, and I knew it was really her; my second-favourite sexy cosplayer, Jessica Nigri.
"Uh-" Fuck! "Good thing I don't have any pride, huh."
She smiled brighter than my dumb joke deserved. "Baka!"
"For real though I'm sorry, guess I got distracted."
"Don't worry, no harm done." Her smile widened into a grin. "Guys always seem to get distracted around me, I wonder why that is . . ." She leaned forward a little, giving me a perfect view of her big, pert tits; something was drawn on them in black body paint, I knew enough to recognise it as kanji but that was all. Then she wiggled just enough to make them jiggle. Somehow I swallowed the urge to audibly moan at the sight. Jessica broke into a fit of giggles, which naturally made them jiggle and bounce even more. "Oh, you like that?"
"Yeah, I do like that!" Putting it mildly. I shuffled about and hoped I wasn't drawing attention to the erection growing in my jeans.
"Really?" Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "
What
do you like, exactly?"
"Your, er, costume?" I mean, I wasn't lying, I did like her costume. "Trying to work out who you are, but-" I shook my head regretfully.
"Well, shit, maybe I'm not as famous as I thought!"
"Sorry? Oh, no, I know who
you
are!" Probably most of the guys here would know who she was, if they got a proper look. "I mean, who you're dressed as."
"Oh! Cool, no it isn't anyone in particular, just a sort of Final Fantasy princess thing." Her smile momentarily inverted into an equally-cute frown. It didn't last. "Fuck, did I sound like a diva just now?"
"Nah," I winked at her, "well, maybe a
