Still working on my other story, but I figured I'd try to do a scene as well.
She smelled like cupcakes. He had a few moments to study her figure in the dulled reflection of the brass elevator doors.
Her smooth, bountiful calf funnelling into her thong sandals, running down from below her thin, floral sun dress. The dress itself dangling loosely from her round buttocks, then rounding a bit more tightly above her hips, up her belly to blossom around her breasts. She had some cheap jewel plunging downward into her ample cleavage from a long silver chain. The loose strings of sandy blonde hair that somehow escaped her ponytail. That brilliant red lipstick as she sucked soda from a straw -.
The elevator stopped.
What were her panties like? He hoped they were purple and velvet. Or satin. Or lace. Or anything. The images raced through his brain. He was beginning to get a hard-on.
David quickly moved his gaze to the LED display, above her head. He knew it was 9th floor already without looking - he had seen her before on the elevator, but this time they were alone. Averting his eyes and thoughts were strictly a defensive maneuver against the pressure building against his fly.
If she saw his face now, she'd know he had just imagined himself being one of those stray strands. The pores on her shoulder whoring out to the hair loosely petting her neck. He wanted to drop down her side and smother his nose in her quim.
The doors opened.
She looked down, smiled a little and mumbled "Have a good time", walking out.
The doors closed. David was alone except for the intoxicating smell of cupcakes. His right hand was in his khaki pocket. If he moved his thumb slightly, he could trace the edge of his head where the foreskin had begun to pull back.
Then it occurred to him, "Why would she say that?" A small bent from the standard "Have a good day" of elevator etiquette....