Elevator Ride 8

Tuesday Morning

At first she wasn't sure. But as the elevator rose the next three floors, she was certain of it. That was a hard cock pressed against her backside. As offices on the top floor were filled with a new law firm, elevators that had once been largely empty were more often stuffed full, especially at 8:45 as brief cases and Starbucks cups made things even tighter.

But this week was even worse. The notice had gone out from building management that two of the six elevators would be down for maintenance this week to replace electrical service. Unfortunately this work decreased some of the power to the other cars, slowing them by about half.

It would be a long ride to the 43rd floor. But today she didn't mind.

She had been half awake when the car arrived in the lobby and she couldn't remember anyone who had gotten on with her. She smiled to herself and made a bold decision. She took half a step back, pressing herself fully against the anonymous penis. She thought she heard a slight gasp in her ear as she did so and responded by imperceptibly grinding against him. At least she thought it was imperceptive, but at that point good judgment was not exactly her strong suit.

The doors opened and a few office bots stepped out onto their floor. She was relieved to see the FedEx guy with his two-wheel dolly get on, actually taking up more room than those who had departed. She graciously moved back a millimeter or two to accommodate the man and his packages. As she pushed back she could feel his strong chest against her back, a solid feeling that she very much enjoyed. Her senses were electric and she was sure she could feel him breathing in her essence, the smell of her conditioner and her musk wafting in to his brain. She was glad she wore her hair down the morning and made a mental note to do so more often.

The elevator stopped on the floor of a large accounting firm and perhaps a third of her car mates exited. She took a quarter step to the left, still refusing to look back at the object of her lust. Instead, she slid a gentle hand across the smooth fabric of his high-end suit until it reached the bulge that had been teasing her. Her sweater had enlarged sleeves and she was pleased to see that if she leaned just right, her hand was covered by the green knitting. Her long, red fingernails found the zipper of his suit and slowly, silently lowered it, allowing her hand to fish around for her goal. She found it quickly. He raised his expensive looking briefcase in front of her hand, providing a privacy shield just in case.

She was a visual person and realized she had all too rarely examined an erect penis only by the feel. Her touch was light, seeking all of the information it had to offer. He clearly had been circumcised and she loved the feel of every topographic feature she felt along its length. The thick, strong vein along the bottom, the very pronounced ridge where the shaft gave way to the head. Her finger tip traced every millimeter of his hardness, imagining each bit of it sliding in and out of her tight, wet honey pot. She imagined the ecstasy of the head opening her lips and entering her as her hands reached around to his imagined to be a tight little ass, encouraging him to penetrate her fully. She imagined his chest against her face, his strong pecs and hard nipples begging to be kissed, licked, nibbled, perhaps even bitten a little too hard.

She stroked a bit faster and had a different image, one of her bent over the fax machine in her office, the black pencil skirt bunched around her waist and her panties long-since abandoned. His strong hands on her hips, her black sling-backs providing the perfect height for him to glide in and out of her. She fantasized about reaching between her legs and fondling his testicles, feeling them bounce against her as he fucked her with measured, strong strokes.

She glanced down to the briefcase privacy shield. His hand was large, tanned and strong looking. She imagined that hand exploring her body, caressing her ass, bringing her very hard nipples to his mouth, his finger buried deep inside of her, his fist holding onto her lovely blonde mane as he unnecessarily guided her as she pleasured him in a variety of ways.

The slightest trickle of wetness escaped her saturated panties and she wondered if she was being as discreet as she thought. In front of her she saw the backs of heads, none half-turned to watch a sex show, no indication that the scent of her sex had taken over the group of commuters on their way to their offices or cubicles.

She imagined his office, a big corner office, of course, judging from the quality of his suit. She thought of a desk large enough to land aircraft on and how willingly she would lay on it, her blonde hair splayed luxuriously like a shampoo commercial, her full breasts welcoming him. He would suck her aching nipples and work his mouth down her stomach, past her pierced navel to her landing strip. His practiced lips and tongue would be met with her first orgasm in short order, overwhelmed by his skills. She would reach for the cock that is now in her hands, taking it deep into her mouth and throat, begging for it to release its treasure for her to enjoy as her body racked with an unequaled series of orgasms.

She opened her eyes to see just a handful of people left in the elevator. She watched floor indicator tick off 41....42..... finally 43 as she gave his hardness a squeeze and removed her hand from behind his briefcase. She caught her breath and excused herself as she worked past the few remaining passengers to exit without ever looking back.

Monday Morning

"Shit," she muttered as she walked into the lobby and saw the clock on the wall. 9:30. Oversleeping by 15 minutes had turned into a 45 minute delay getting to work, thanks to what had to be every school bus in four counties, a train blocking a crossing and the general traffic that the news reporters told her indicated an improving economy but made it nearly impossible to get into downtown on time.

For the last week she had been uncharacteristically on time, hoping to run into the same anonymous man she had shared the elevator with the previous week. For the last six nights her lonely bed welcomed her memories and fantasies of him before she drifted off to sleep. She scolded herself as, over the weekend, she dug out some of her fun, silky night things to wear instead of the well-worn t-shirt from her sorority days. She had even made sure her bra and panties matched, although she had no expectation of showing them to anyone. But she knew. And she liked it.

The lobby was far emptier than it was when she usually arrived, saving her a half a minute as she scurried to the bank of elevators that would take her to the 43rd floor. The elevator call button had already been pushed by the gentleman by the door. As she had done with every man on every elevator for the last seven days, she glanced at his briefcase. Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she realized it was the one from her memory. Everything, the briefcase, the wristwatch, the size and shape of his hands were burned into her memory banks. There was no doubt he was the one.

He was older than she had guessed, early 50s probably, with enough gray hair to be called "salt and pepper" but a physique that suggested he was no stranger to the gym. On a whim, she violated elevator lobby protocol and instead of standing behind him, moved so she was just in front of him and to his left side, as near to their positions that morning in the elevator as she could go without facing a sexual harassment suit if she was wrong.

She was right. As soon as he glanced over, he let out a quiet "oh my" and the sexual tension between them filled the vast, cold lobby. She began to panic. She needed a strategy. And as the car light flicked from seven to six to five, she needed that strategy quickly.

The indicator behind her dinged and the doors of another car opened. A few people in the lobby piled in, leaving just the two of them as their elevator appeared. She could barely move her legs. She seemed to tremble with excitement, fear, raw sexuality, perhaps all of these as she entered and pushed the button for her floor. He stood behind her and responded "44" as somehow her voice managed to ask which floor.

Oddly it was her mother's voice she heard, "When it comes to men, trust your gut." This most certainly was not what mom had in mind, but she spun on a heel, looked him in the eye, grabbed his expensive necktie and pulled him in for a kiss. The kiss she offered him said, "I want you in me now," and his kiss in return seemed to agree. She pushed him back against the wall and ground every square inch of her body against his. Her hands were inside his suit coat feeling his powerful pecs as his hands roamed her ass. She turned and rubbed her ass against him as she reached back and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. Her breasts were aching to be touched and he deftly untied her suit coat and reached under her camisole to the red satin bra she thought she had worn for no good reason but was now glad she had.

"Been...thinking.....'bout.... this.....all....week," he hissed in her ear through labored breathing. "So....fucking.....hot." He grabbed her wrists and pushed her forward until her face was against the door. He firmly placed her wrists against the gleaming chrome door frame and made it clear he wanted her to leave them there. He sunk to a knee behind her and pushed her legs apart, leaving her spread eagle against the door. He raised her skirt and pulled the red cheeky panties to one side. The smell of her musk instantly filled the confined space as his tongue dove into the wetness. He found her very swollen clit and began to massage it with his mouth. He wrapped his strong arms around her thighs as she seemed to buckle at the knees.

She tasted fresh and clean and he was sure she had shaven earlier that morning. He wondered if she had been as horny as he, and how many attempts it would have taken to shave her mons with the constant interruption of roaming fingers bringing self-inflicted pleasures.

She came and she came hard. How she would have loved to let out screams that would have been heard through the building but decided that would be ill-advised. But she ground herself down hard against his mouth as three waves worked their way through the clit he was skilled at working.

He stood and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. As her mind was still recovering he pulled her skirt back down into place and reminded her to retie her coat and tuck in her cami when she had a chance.

They kissed, long and slow, the kiss of new lovers and she pulled away as the felt the car come to a stop. "I'll be working late tonight," he offered. "One floor up, I should be alone by six."

As she exited to her floor, she knew he would not be alone by 6:05.

Monday Afternoon

To say her productivity dropped that day would be an epic understatement. Her productivity stopped. Completely. Sure, arriving 45 minutes late didn't help, but she was wholly unable to concentrate on anything work-related.

Before lunch as she tried to pay attention in a meeting where her presence was certainly not needed, she realized the shift her sex life had taken in the last week. Had she really massaged a man's cock in public? A man whose name not only she did not know but whose face she had never seen? And done it in an elevator not two feet away from God knows whom? Had she really had the same man, whose name she still did not know, just this morning give her the strongest orgasm of her life while standing spread eagle in an elevator that through lousy timing could have dumped her out on any of two dozen floors of offices with her skirt around her waist and her wetness running down her leg?

And was she really considering going to his office tonight? Going to this stranger's office with the full expectation of the kind of unbridled, uninhibited, teeth-marks-on-your-back sex fest that she experienced just once a couple of years ago while still in college?

After the meeting she stopped in the lady's room. Her panties were beyond damp and she removed them with the devilish thought of having them sent up to Him through the building's messenger. She chuckled at the thought. What name would go on the label? Does his secretary open his packages? That would be a tough explanation. She pulled the panties over her heels and shimmied back into them, feeling the cool, moist fabric against herself.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

Offices started to empty at around 4 and by 5:30 a precious few coworkers were left. She took her purse into one of the unisex handicapped bathrooms and locked the door. She considered her appearance in the cheap full-length mirror. From what people could see, she was the picture of a young professional woman. A well-tailored ivory suit with a matching camisole underneath with lace and just a hint of cleavage showing. The black skirt stopped just above the knee and offered a perfect amount of snugness to show off the lunges she did every night. Her favorite three-inch heels, black pumps with leopard print on the heel and toe, completed the look.

Her hair was shorter than it had been a decade ago; but in comparison to other women in the office, it still seemed long. She had always had beautiful hair and rather than shear it off and be efficient, she was willing to invest the time in the morning and a few extra dollars at the salon to bring a balance of young, professional and sexy.

She hung her suit jacket and cami on the hook and took another look in the mirror. She looked good. She was fit and strong with a lean, flat stomach. No six pack on this girl and she knew there never would be, thanks to her love of high quality ice cream. But she knew he would like what he saw if she actually had the nerve to go upstairs tonight.

Make-up was never a big part of her look, but she did a little touch up and brushed her hair. As she applied her lip gloss she wondered what those lips would be doing in a few minutes. She wanted to kiss him. A lot. Their kiss that morning had been brief but had been one of the hottest of her life and she wanted more. She imagined a CSI investigation, trace amounts of her lip gloss would be found on his mouth, his ears, neck, certainly that wonderful cock that had started this whole mess. Where else, she wondered, perhaps his chest, his stomach, his fingers?

She adjusted the girls in her bra and on a whim put the suit jacket back on without the cami. She considered the look. It showed more cleavage than before but not too much and just a hint of the red bra showed against the lapel. A perfectly acceptable look for a woman out on the town. Or soon to be on her back. She adjusted where the jacket tied at the waist and took a final look. Perfect. Suddenly all doubt about the evening disappeared and she actually felt sorry for the poor man upstairs who was about to be her prey. "I sure hope he eats Wheaties, he's going to need them," she thought to herself as she exited the ladies' room.

The big clock above the empty reception desk read 6:02. She headed to the elevator. She confidently pushed the "up" button and let out a deep breath when the car arrived. She noticed her finger was trembling as she pushed 44. It let her out in a lobby much like her own but with a different feel. This had a strong, masculine vibe to it, deep greens and burgundies with navy blue carpeting that seemed to swallow her feet. The reception desk was a dark cherry. The sign behind it indicated it was an architectural firm and the walls were filled with pictures of office buildings and schools across the country. One wall had framed newspaper clippings about the firm's work in Haiti rebuilding after the earthquake. A picture showed a group of successful-looking men in shirt sleeves and hard hats shaking hands with a bald black man who the caption identified as Michel Martelly, the country's president at the time.

The door from the lobby into the office area was nearly closed and she was amused to see it was blocked by a well-worn wooden door stop. They build million-dollar buildings and hold the door open with an old piece of two by four. The cubicle area had only the night-time lights on but an office in the far corner was well-lit. She had found her prey.

She stalked her way through the desks, not at all intimidated or afraid, just a chick in charge about to get laid. She arrived at his door unnoticed, the thick carpeting absorbing the sound of her movements. She purposely ignored his nameplate next to the door and leaned against the doorframe smiling. He looked up as she cleared her throat and she wasn't sure if she saw surprise, fear or excitement in his eyes. Nor did she care. She strode purposefully to him and he stood up. "I should introduce myself, I'm..." but she cut him off with her mouth on his.

"I really don't care what your name is," she said, separating her mouth from his for a second as she pushed him back into his chair and ended up on his lap. She was kneeling on the chair, straddling him as she deposited her lip gloss on his mouth, exploring his mouth with her tongue. His hand found the tie to her jacket and soon his mouth was on her bra. He seemed to gobble her cleavage like a starving man, then slowly and patiently traced the outline of the bra with his tongue, teasing her with his touch.

She shrugged the jacket off and tossed it on the floor. He reached behind her and deftly released the clasp, allowing her breasts to be free. It was amazing how a man who could do that still managed to turn her on like a high school kid. He sucked one nipple as his fingertips massaged the other. He loved the fresh taste of her skin, the perfect texture of her breasts, how her entire areola seemed to explode with goose bumps at his touch. Her hands were in his hair, enjoying the touch she had ached for all day and the adventure that until a week earlier was lacking in her life. She felt in charge, all powerful, knowing that this man wanted nothing more than to be allowed to pleasure her, permission she fully intended to give.

He gently touched her cheek, drawing her mouth back to his and again their tongues entwined. He seemed perfectly content to let her be in charge. Judging from his office she guessed he spent of his life being in charge but not right now. She sat back on her heels and let him take her in. He loved the soft curls of her hair lying on her bare shoulders. Her skin was just beginning to glisten and he brushed the backs of his fingernails against her, raising goose bumps as he did.

She took his hand in hers and folded all but the middle finger into his fist. She looked deep into his eyes as she wrapped her mouth around the finger, teasing it with her tongue, developing some slight suction against it. He seemed to grow uncomfortable in the chair, shifting a bit as she continued to suck his finger. "Your finger is delicious," she said finally, "but what I really need is that cock of yours in my mouth."

She slid down onto her knees in front of his chair and unbuckled his belt. He pulled the leather through the belt loops until she held its full length in her hands. "Hmm, we may need to hang onto this until later," she teased and unbuttoned his pants. She opened his pants and pulled them and his silky boxers to his ankles.

A week ago in the elevator her hand hadn't registered how large his cock was. In college she had briefly dated a Canadian rugby player who was by far the largest she had ever had, but this beat that memory hands down. The length was a bit larger than average, perhaps 6-7 inches but the girth took her breath away. It was perhaps twice as thick as what she was used to. She stroked it slowly, lovingly, respectfully, her smile hiding the intimidation she felt but she decided she was up to the challenge.