Elevator Sex (Closed for Orithyia)
I had forgotten my car keys. I couldn't drive anywhere without them, let alone get back into my condo. I knew right where they were, in the drawer to my desk. I trudged back through the lobby; the security guard had gone home by now, and security was left to the remote monitors. I stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the 47th floor.
I caught sight of myself in the mirrored panel on the side of the elevator wall. I was six feet two, with dark brown hair, parted on one side, and brown eyes. I had a high forehead, which I softened a bit by combing my hair across and down it. My goatee was well-trimmed, even this late in the evening; I was always careful about my hygene.
I was wearing a three-piece navy blue suit. Working with mostly older colleagues, I made an effort to look professional, and given that I could afford expensive clothes, I liked to wear them. Italian silk tie, Italian black leather shoes.
The doors started to close, but I could hear the sound of running footsteps -- high heels at that, if I heard right in the echoes from the lobby. "Wait," came a female voice. I was glad to be accomodating, and hit the door open button. The doors hesitated for a moment, and then opened with a strange jerk. That should have told me something, perhaps, but I'd ridden this elevator a thousand times before. Nothing had ever gone wrong.
I had forgotten my car keys. I couldn't drive anywhere without them, let alone get back into my condo. I knew right where they were, in the drawer to my desk. I trudged back through the lobby; the security guard had gone home by now, and security was left to the remote monitors. I stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the 47th floor.
I caught sight of myself in the mirrored panel on the side of the elevator wall. I was six feet two, with dark brown hair, parted on one side, and brown eyes. I had a high forehead, which I softened a bit by combing my hair across and down it. My goatee was well-trimmed, even this late in the evening; I was always careful about my hygene.
I was wearing a three-piece navy blue suit. Working with mostly older colleagues, I made an effort to look professional, and given that I could afford expensive clothes, I liked to wear them. Italian silk tie, Italian black leather shoes.
The doors started to close, but I could hear the sound of running footsteps -- high heels at that, if I heard right in the echoes from the lobby. "Wait," came a female voice. I was glad to be accomodating, and hit the door open button. The doors hesitated for a moment, and then opened with a strange jerk. That should have told me something, perhaps, but I'd ridden this elevator a thousand times before. Nothing had ever gone wrong.
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