I stood in the elevator, Muzak in my ears and the drowsy scent of perfume in my nostrils. The elevator belonged to an exclusive downtown office building - the kind with a marble floor in the foyer that goes on for longer than you can hold your breath. The perfume belonged to the elegant lady lawyer who had stepped out with silk stockinged legs at the twenty-fifth in her hi-powered red suit and Manolo Blahniks. I didn't belong anywhere in this building. I was only there to meet a friend.
The elevator stopped only a couple of floors short of the penthouse. The doors opened and the Muzak kept going - Coolio played on some Binatone electronic harpsichord. The lobby was empty except for another business lady - younger this time - in short black skirt and hounds tooth check jacket - carrying a leather briefcase. She stepped into the privacy of the elevator and I was suddenly aware of how scruffy I must look in my jeans and leather car coat. The air was sweet with a new perfume - a muskier, more intoxicating blend. I shuffled my feet.
"Thirty, please", she said. Two floors further up. I didn't have to touch a button. Thirty was were I was going too. The doors closed. We both looked at the floor. The lift started and then stopped again, moments later. We both looked at each other - I tried a smile, shrugged my shoulders as if to say ,"All the money in this building and they can't even get the lifts to work properly." She didn't say a thing. Nothing happened - and seemed to take a long time about it. We both sneaked glances at each other a couple more times - becoming gradually less and less sure how to handle the situation - until she finally strode over to the emergency phone and pulled it out of its cabinet. She held it to her ear.
"Engaged!", she said. "How the fuck can an emergency telephone be engaged?" She held it out to me so I could hear the tone.
"Beats me," I said, "Maybe all the elevators have stopped and they've only got one phone line?"
"Maybe," she looked angry. "Fucking typical. How many elevators do you think they have in this building?"
"There were six sets of doors in the lobby."
"Six! We could be here for hours." She looked at me again - a little less angry now - and something seemed to crackle in the air between us like static electricity. She bent to place her briefcase on the floor, affording me a pleasant view of her cleavage between the open top buttons of her white blouse. She straightened up, hands on hips and looked across at me - and this time there was a look in her eyes - the kind Moll Flanders might have worn when she first sashayed into the palace and curtsied in front of Charles II. "So what do you suggest we do to pass the time?"
My mouth was dry - but I managed to crack a smile and a half-assed answer - "How about a game of Eye-Spy?"
"Eye Spy?," she said - half-laughing - as she sashayed across the elevator carpet - she didn't curtsy, she just knelt, on a pair of pretty knees, tugging her skirt up slightly. "I think we can do better than that." She had one hand behind, holding me steady while the other worked at belt and fastenings and then I felt the sudden shocking coolness of the elevator air conditioning and then - more shocking still - her gentle fingers as she stroked me erect. She used both hands, quickly, to pull my jeans down far enough to bring me all the way out and then I had both hands against the wall behind me to keep myself steady because she was kissing the head and lovingly taking me into her mouth.
She took me all the way in and then slowly worked me out again, holding me like a popsicle , she licked me all around and up and down. I moved one hand onto the back of her head - moving with her, following her rhythm of licking and sucking and lips and kisses - a slow and deliberate rhythm - like a tango between her lips and my cock but too slow for my growing excitement so I pulled her to her feet and tugged at the fastenings of blouse and jacket - buttons popped before I had them off and forgotten on the floor and I was kissing her with the hunger of a dying man on a ventilator - trying to suck hot and passionate breath out of her throat and into my lungs and all the time backing her against an elevator wall - her arms around my neck - my free hand pushing her skirt up around her waist - stroking slim thighs in stockings - feeling the electrifying Morse code transmitted to my minds eye by my finger tips touching firm flesh inside tight silk - her moan, hoarse in my ear - when I found the elastic of her panties and pulled it down hard - her behind and thighs yielding, letting my fingers urgently caress her until she opened with a sigh and I slipped two fingers inside her - feeling her moisture as I pushed my fingers in and out.
