Miranda looked apprehensively at the elevator doors. Normally she didn't mind riding in one alone, but in this place, with all the crowds, she couldn't control who was in there with her. There was something about elevators, something that intensified the thoughts. Occasionally she could read those of others, but in an elevator they just seemed to shout out to her.
'Nice ASS!' She heard. She turned her head and looked at the crowd of people bustling around the hotel lobby, but couldn't tell from which direction it came from. Ahh ... there, the man who turned to take a last look before turning the corner. She gave him a look that told him of her disapproval. He wrinkled his brow as he disappeared around the corner, wondering if he had made the comment out loud.
She turned to glance at herself in the huge mirror that hung on the far wall. She knew she was drop-dead gorgeous, and turned to take a look at her succulent ass, knowing full well she often stopped men in their tracks. Her black gown fit her 35 year old trim frame like a glove, with its deep plunging v-neck, going well past the revealing cleavage of her 36C's and halfway to her navel. There was no doubt she wasn't wearing a bra, reinforced by her nipples, which frequently became visible when a cool breeze, or a hot glance, caught her attention.
The backside of the dress was just as breathtaking. Her sculpted spine was completely exposed down to a mere inch above the swell of her delicious butt, showing off those two dimples men find so attractive on a woman. Because she knew there were certain ways she could turn where, had she worn any, her panties would have been exposed, she chose to wear none. The thoughts of men who happened to catch a glimpse of the crack of her ass were often intensified by their lust for her, and she rarely missed when she was accidentally 'exposing' herself. Only her husband knew she was completely naked beneath the thin film of material, and on the two other occasions she had worn this dress, she always got extremely aroused. It was as close as she could get to being naked in public and still be high-class and presentable.
Her rich, shoulder length brunette Valencia hairstyle and gloss black spiked heels completed the picture of beauty. Her dark sunglasses, rich red lipstick and matching fingernails, gave her an air of mystery, and allowed her to casually glance at all those people parading passed her while maintaining the impression of an unapproachable socialite. Her heart jumped as she heard the ding signaling the arrival of the elevator. It quickly emptied and the three of them went in.
Her husband, Charles, was the perfect image of a corporate executive. In the ten years they had been married, she had intercepted his thoughts often, and his mind was always very proper, keeping focused on the task at hand. He was actually quite boring, for she rarely picked up on a thought that was out of place or improper ... especially at these social business gatherings. Unfortunately, that also meant their love life was the same ... proper and boring. And what a shame, too. At six foot five he was an imposing figure, even to her five foot six frame, and his 'manhood' matched the myth of the tall man with big hands. She just wished she could enjoy his massive tool much more often. He was very much the epitome of the salt-and-pepper haired vice president. There were dozens of ambitious younger women who would have given themselves to him, body and soul.
Charles always considered her to be the 'loose cannon' in their relationship. She was 15 years his junior and frequently tried to pull him away from the tedium and structure of business to indulge in a little lust and passion. Sometime she succeeded, most of the time she didn't. The most outlandish thing she ever got him to do was enjoy a quick blowjob in his office as he clinched a deal on the phone with some Japanese firm. She still thinks it was the man on the other end of the phone agreeing to his multi-million dollar deal that brought him to orgasm, and not her oral talents.
Richard, his administrative assistant, on the other hand, was a treasure trove of jumbled thoughts. At 27, it was no wonder he was still at the very bottom of the junior executive chain. He always seemed to be hanging on Charles' coattails at business socials, especially when Miranda accompanied him. She had been picking up his scatterbrained thoughts since they first got into their limousine. The thought that kept him occupied the most was wondering if Miranda was wearing any panties. She was flattered by his attention, especially since it seemed to preoccupy his thoughts SO much, but then, he was always flirting with her. If he weren't so reckless and unable to keep his mouth shut, he might have enjoyed her charms long ago, despite her rule about not get involved with anyone working directly with her husband.
Miranda knew exactly what her purpose at these functions was ... to be eye candy for all the executives to drool over. Her beauty often attracted conversation to Charles, which he easily turned into his next business venture. In this he had his secret weapon ... her telepathy. He didn't understand it, but appreciated the tips she would give him when discussing business. She could read the fears and apprehensions of his business associates, which Charles would turn to his advantage. He was very successful at his chosen profession, and it kept Miranda in a lifestyle she enjoyed ... that of the rich and pampered. Charles used her abilities to keep his edge in the corporate world, and he was legendary for his swift takeovers of other corporate firms. While they all were ogling her sexy body, she was learning their innermost thoughts, and became the very weapon that would eventually be their undoing.
She would be lying if she said she had been faithful to Charles all their married life, but it was one of those things that was just never discussed. She was good for his image and business, and he was good to her. His busy schedule allowed her plenty of free time to play, and she played often. Besides, he knew deep down if she was satisfying herself physically with someone else, it would keep her attention off him, allowing him to keep his mind focused on what made him happy ... his business. He was secure enough in their relationship to know she would not leave him, or the life of privilege he provided her, as she was in love with him. He was comfortable enough to let her seek her physical pleasures wherever she might find them. He had no desire to know how, who, or how many times she sought this pleasure.
Miranda was very selective and she could afford to be. Her lifestyle exposed her to the who's-who of upper crust business world. Although she wouldn't be able to say exactly how many men she had known since getting married, it was definitely more than she could count. There was a woman, too. There were the brief encounters, lasting a few hours, to the ongoing ones. Her longest was with a man named Kerry, a businessman from Canada, whom she still sees when he comes into town. She's done the quick blowjob in a limo to that one time she let the wife of a distant associate eat her out while he watched. She never met with anyone directly involved with Charles, and was discreet enough to know ... through the thoughts of the other business executives ... that her reputation was that of a clean and respectable wife of a business executive that was not to be approached about such unconscionable things as a sexual affair. She made sure nothing she did would bring discredit or suspicion to her husband.
No sooner than the elevator doors shut, than Richard's thoughts echoed in the small enclosure, turning more audible in her mind, as if he were speaking right into her ear. He stood next to Charles, slightly behind, so he could gaze upon Miranda's succulent rear and exposed backside without fear of discovery. She fidgeted with her lower lip as she looked up at the numbers clicking away on the floor display, trying to ignore his racy thoughts. Although Richard did little for her libido, she had to admit his thoughts of what his tongue and cock could do to her bent over ass was causing her temperature to rise. She sighed deeply, trying to keep her blush and erect nipples from showing. Twenty-four more floors to go. Casting a smile at her husband, she could hear that his thoughts were deep in rehearsing a sales pitch he was planning to give. Another sigh.
The elevator suddenly slowed, and the doors opened. Miranda fought back the rushing fear of claustrophobia as a herd of people pushed in. Moving to the back to provide room, Richard moved to the corner, and Miranda pressed against him, with Charles to the side. She would rather be touching Richard than some stranger. Although not a word was spoken, the tiny elevator seemed to echo with conversation. Thoughts about dinner, running errands, things forgotten, things still left to do. It was all she could do to keep from covering her ears. The doors closed and the numbers started climbing again.
Above the other thoughts, she could hear Richard falling into a world of confusion. Her ass was now pressed against his thigh, and he was arguing with himself if he should attempt to actually try and touch her with his hand, to feel the soft roundness of her firm ass. With all the moving around in the elevator it would be easy to dismiss as an accident. As if to encourage him, she shifted slightly, turning so her body would conceal any activity. She wanted to see if he had the nerve to touch her ass, with his boss ... her husband ... standing only inches away.
'Go ahead,' she thought back, 'touch my ass. If you've got the balls to grab me, I'll let you touch it all you want. Would you have the nerve to touch my pussy if I presented it to you, right in front of Charles?' She took in a breath as her body heated up with this little game of cat and mouse. She arched her back and parted her legs ever so slightly. If he had his hand in the proper place, she would have been well open to receive him.
'Would you let him bend you over and fuck you?' Another voice called out. Miranda jumped and searched the faces of those around her. It wasn't that of Richard, but someone spoke out loud, responding to her thoughts. As she jumped she leaned harder against Richard, so much so that he almost fell back against the wall. He brought his hand up and cupped her ass, partly in reaction to falling, partly because his mind had already willed his hand to touch her. As she regained her balance, she swiveled her hips and his hand gently slipped into the crack of her ass.
'Oh my GOD,' his thoughts betrayed. 'She isn't wearing any panties.' She closed her eyes, wishing she could also see and feel what Richard was. She could feel a whisp of cool air on the crack of her ass, and knew his hand had moved the material enough to expose it to his ravenous glance.
'You like that, don't you?' The voice called out again. 'You like having him touch your ass, in such a public and dangerous place.'
