Panty Raid by Diane Vallere

Author:Diane Vallere
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polyester Press

18

Plan, shman. I needed out of there, stat!

Recap of problems: My clothes were in a booth in the middle of the convention center. At least one person who I suspected of being involved in a faked suicide/murder was within five feet of that booth. And I was on a stage my underwear.

Amidst bouncing boobs and butts clad in colorful bra and panty sets, a tall redhead took the stage. Judging from the model and crowd reaction, that was Yarvi. She held what looked like a military assault rifle. She raised it in front of her and fired over the heads of the crowd.

The panty cannon. Yarvi was shooting panty samples at the audience, and the audience was going wild. Buyers who had earlier milled about acting as if a convention center of women in underwear was the most sophisticated venue in the world elbowed each other out of the way like desperate bachelorettes clamoring to catch the bouquet at a wedding.

Amidst the melee, I maneuvered my way to the back of the stage and the hat fell off my head. In addition to my more pressing problems was the fact that I wasn’t wearing Yarvi’s underwear line. Any focus on my skivvies would detract from her brand message, not strengthen it. I could use that to my benefit. When I was all the way behind the rest of the women, I slipped off the stage and ducked underneath. Feet stomped over my head like a production of A Chorus Line. On hands and knees, I crawled from one side to the other and waited.

For what, I didn’t know. What I did know was I needed a new plan.

In a painfully long amount of time, the sound of feet on my ceiling scattered. The panty raid was over. If I’d spent more time studying my schedule, I would have known whether the stage was going to be used for another presentation, but I didn’t. And every single piece of information or information-gathering methods I had were in my laptop bag in a row of model’s gear in the booth behind Joey Cheeks’ booth. My schedule. My lanyard. My phone.

My pride.

The only thing that was available was the black fabric that was attached to the stage to serve as the skirt to cover the platform.

I’ve worn crazier outfits.

But removing the skirt from the platform and fashioning it into some sort of garment would draw unnecessary attention to me while I tried to make a getaway.

I briefly wondered, when Nick asked himself What would Samantha do? if he considered the possibilities of hiding under the stage of a major industry trade show in his underwear and the difficulties that lie in the near future. I certainly hoped not. Asking himself that question might lead him to reexamine his decision to invite me into his family.

If there were one place where I could walk around in my underwear and not attract attention, the lingerie show was it. If only I had a friend. If only I had someone inside the show, a designer friend who I could rely on for help.

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