This story was prompted by a recent trip to NYC and all the impressive skyscrapers. Thanks to LSEiland for editing this story. Her suggestions are appreciated, as she is never afraid to redirect me when I stray.
*****
Ken stopped by Kimberly's desk. He was her supervisor- or boss, as her friends called him, though he didn't care for that title. They worked in a marketing agency in midtown Manhattan. It was Friday, and she was anxious for the workweek to be over.
"I made arrangements for the meeting with our new client on Wednesday at 2 p.m. Be sure you are there to accompany me," Ken reminded her.
She considered this her first chance to take lead of a new account.
As Ken was turning away, he also casually mentioned, "The elevators are going to be refurbished over the weekend, you will be happy to know."
Kimberly worked on the 80
th
floor in a steel-and-glass-clad high-rise building that towered 95-stories above the ground. The elevators had always been a distraction- even frightening. They were the original elevators from the 1960's era. They were slow, jerky, and frequently out-of-service. When a car was out of commission, the result was a long wait to ride the remaining elevator up to her office. When they were crowded in the morning, she swore that she felt the elevator drop a few inches as that last person squeezed into the car and the door shut, packing the riders as if they were on the ground floor of a rock concert. Starting Monday, she would not need to arrive 30 minutes early to assure she was at work on time, perchance one car was inoperable.
Monday arrived, and Kimberly immediately noticed the changes. The walls were no longer stainless steel with the artifacts of graffiti and lurid artistry scratched to the point of being only slightly less offensive than if unadulterated. Now the elevator walls were paneled in a rich wood with an interlocking grain pattern. The doors were inlayed in wood with an abstract design.
There had to be a white noise generator as the conversations were softened to hushed whispers in the background. Even the inevitable cell phone conversation was no longer as obnoxious. The doors made a whoosh when they opened and closed, reminding her of the doors in the old Star Trek episodes she still watched on occasion.
That very day, when she arrived at her desk, there was a bouquet of roses and an invitation for lunch with her erstwhile boyfriend, Bradley, on Wednesday.
I will be back in plenty of time for that meeting
at 2,
she reminded herself of the important commitment that day.
Bradley worked in software engineering; that's all she knew. He was a little nerdy, as he always tinkering at home with electronics and programming. And coding, he called it- sometimes with unusual results. Such as the time he programmed a pneumatic gun in the refrigerator to spew little squares of Jell-O at her whenever she opened the door. This was his solution when she announced a new diet to lose a few pounds.
The two had been in an on-again off-again romance for over two years, interspersed with weeks of passionate lovemaking that was often terminated with a silly misunderstanding. Or work. He seemed to be always working on a project, which accounted for this last hiatus in their relationship- or so he told her. But he always excited her when they met. He was so fit, handsome and incredibly engaging, despite his insistence on total isolation when he was working at his computer terminal. So Kimberly was anxiously anticipating the reunion luncheon date on Wednesday and intended to make it especially memorable for him. She knew, above all, that he was the one she wanted to live with for the rest of her life. If only he thought the same... She pondered her future, and convinced herself that she would try a new approach to capture his attention.
Wednesday arrived, and it was a beautiful spring day. Warm breezes and a hint of fragrance from the blooming flowers were detectable even amongst the diesel fumes in Midtown.
They met at Giuseppe's, a favorite of Bradley's, where Italian food was the specialty.
Bradley was standing at the maître'd podium as she arrived precisely at noon (he was always on time). The waiter seated them on the outside terrace. Bradley was being the gentleman; pulling out a chair for her. She had just refreshed her favorite perfume before meeting and, after she was seated, he bent over and took a deep breath of the fragrance arising from the fold in her neck, followed by a brief moan, as if he was already submitting to her wiles. Bradley took a seat opposite her at the small bistro table covered in a white tablecloth and ordered two goblets containing the finest Montepulciano d'Abruzzo she had ever sipped.
Kimberly was happy to see Bradley, as she had been chaste since their last date two months ago. They bantered about work, and Kimberly talked about the new elevators in her building. He seemed totally disinterested in the subject, as if his mind was occupied with a different project. Something had to be done to recapture his attention, as Kimberly did not want him to wander from her again.
To show her renewed attraction, Kimberly removed her right foot from the black patent leather heels she was wearing, and started rubbing her stockinged foot under his pant leg. Bradley's eyes widened while reading the menu, which was a sign his penchant for the smoothness of nylon on his skin was revived as soon as her foot touched his shin. His eyelids closed as he savored her advances. She paused when their lunch arrived. They resumed trading tidbits about their workdays.
As they ate tiramisu for dessert, Kimberly leaned over the table and whispered, "Take it out and let me satisfy your male appetite, my way."
She had never tried this before, but sexual promiscuity in public had always fascinated her. Kimberly stared at him, almost willing him mentally to obey her.
Do it, you jerk, take it out and let me do it to you.
Bradley rearranged the white tablecloth and then pulled his cock from his pants with a not-so-subtle effort. Kimberly proceeded to slowly rub her nylon clad foot up and down his exposed cock under the tablecloth, pressing her foot firmly against the rod as it stiffened. She deftly manipulated the head between her big toe and its neighbor. He stumbled and stuttered while attempting to continue their conversation, then became silent. She knew Bradley was being seduced into submission with smooth nylon. Nylon was his weakness, and he always insisted on nylon stockings during sexual fantasies.
Kimberly sipped her wine, letting the liquid linger on the tip of her tongue, never letting her eyesight veer from his. Within a matter of minutes, there was an impending orgasm from her stroking. She did not stop. Her foot stroked him expertly; Up, down, up, down his shaft, wiggling her toes, and running the silky nylon over the tip, playing with his cock in ways he had likely never felt before. The spasms of the orgasmic culmination were transmitted through her foot. She continued to rub, until she felt his cock soften only slightly, reassuring her of her success.
Kimberly swung her legs from outside the tablecloth and replaced her heels on her feet. She arose, then leaned over and spoke in his ear dismissively, "Enough of that, I need to get back to work." She noticed his pants were stained with his semen, but Kimberly left him nonetheless to deal with his predicament. Bradley looked back at her with a conniving smile. She recognized that payback was already preoccupying his mind.
Thoroughly aroused, Kimberly detoured on her way back to work, stopping at a park to regain her composure. She sat on a bench and just dreamed about a life with Bradley, each bringing the other to sexual surrender. Then, she returned to the building just after 1:30 pm; the lobby was empty. The elevator door opened upon her arrival in the lobby. The new elevators had been installed. Unlike previously, she did not have to wait to return to her afternoon duties at work. Stepping in the elevator, the doors closed with that characteristic Star Trek whoosh and the car started to move.
"Good afternoon, Kimberly." It was a voice, and it knew her name.
There is no one else in the elevator, obviously
