It was just one of those days. You know the kind. You go about your daily business and everything seems tedious and humdrum. It's only Tuesday, and you're already pining for the weekend – no work, no worries, some time to kick back. Everybody has days like it, some people more than others, some people less.
But this particular day, as it was to turn out, would be entirely different for Amber and her man Sam. It was December, and the two were to attend a corporate Christmas party that evening. The bash was going to be held in a swanky, twenty-story high rise in L.A. The restaurant was very posh, very festive, with decorations decking all the halls. Despite knowing the party should be a good time, Amber was a little reluctant to leave her beachside home to fight the traffic and suck up the smog of L.A. At her place, Amber had some open space, plenty of fresh air and the entire Pacific Ocean for a front window view. She loved living there precisely because the place was removed from the hustle and hassle of the big city.
Still, the party offered a good opportunity to get together with Sam once again. They had been dating awhile and were just discovering that their mutual attraction was very physical, as well as mental and emotional. Sex, which had once been tentative, had become consuming, and they both relished it.
For the evening, Amber had chosen a sensual, silky dress boasting an exotic floral print. As always, when she was forced to go into L.A. for anything, she spurned panties. When she had to spend time in the hustle, bustle and hassle that was L.A., she preferred the freedom and freshness of an unencumbered crotch. A little quirk. Getting ready took just a few moments. She clipped her bra at the back, dropped the dress over her head, buckled a belt in front and stepped into her heels. Perusing herself in her bedroom mirror, Amber was satisfied.
Sam was right on time. Amber heard his car pull up and she stepped out for the evening. After she slipped into the passenger seat, Sam eyed her admiringly, then leaned to kiss her. She kissed him back and probed his mouth with her tongue. A little surprised, Sam pulled away. "What's that for? Don't get me going now, we've got a party tonight, remember?"
"I know. Don't remind me," she complained. "You know I hate going into the city. I'd rather spend the evening here. With you."
Sam put the car into gear. "I'd rather stay here too, but you know..."
"Yes. Yes. Drive on McDuff."
In all, it took two hours to battle through the L.A. traffic. A couple of assholes in a Camaro had given them the finger and cut them off; it seemed every bus and truck with a diesel engine was spewing fumes at them, and the air conditioning had chosen the present moment to quit working. By the time they arrived, Amber and Sam were in a mood as foul as the L.A. smog.
As they walked hand in hand to the building, both looked up at the structure. The main focal point was a glass elevator, which travelled the exterior of the building. As they got closer to the front door, the building loomed over them. Watching the elevator descending, full of people going who knew where, both had the same thought at the same instant. "You know..." said Amber.
"Yeah, it occurred to me, too," said Sam.
The pair entered the lobby just as the crowded elevator emptied its cargo. When they had all left, nobody else showed up to take the elevator. Sam and Amber stepped in and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. Sam leaned against the door, while Amber went to the window and looked out at L.A. As the elevator rose, the view improved, revealing more and more of the metropolis sprawled below. Looking at her, Sam could see the city lights through Amber's thin dress as she stood, her legs apart, gazing out. As they neared the top floor, Sam studied the control panel and punched a button. The elevator lurched to a sudden stop. Amber whirled, then stopped when she saw the lascivious grin on Sam's face.
They took a step toward each other, then were all over each other; kissing, fondling, groping. French kissing madly, Sam pushed against her. His penis was already hard, while Amber already felt a wetness between her legs. "Sam, we can't," she whispered into his ear. He put his arms around her, pushing against her, and whispered, "We can. It's the handicapped stop button. Nobody can get on until we're done."
"But what if somebody did get on? I'd die," she countered. But then, feeling Sam's penis pushing against her while his hands caressed her breasts through the dress, her fear gave way to a rush of adrenaline. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was fuck Sam, right then, right there, in an elevator overlooking L.A.
