The Elevator Chapter 5 NC-17 rating
As I struggled to control the fan girl and stop her from reaching out to pick up the papers, he re-appeared. He sauntered from the bedroom holding two glasses of water.
“I’m so sorry,” he said offering me one of the glasses. I took it with two hands, afraid that my trembling fingers would spill the water on his song. I pulled the glass to my mouth and took a large, steadying gulp. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together as I swallowed. It wasn’t water. The cold vodka stunk as it slid down my throat. My eyes began to water. I took a deep breath. Well, that’ll calm me down!
He sat beside me, “Sorry. I told you that I hate to clean,” he said as he pushed the papers to the side. He looked at me and noticed my strange posture. I was still poised on the edge of the couch, “Are you nervous?” he asked. And once again, he flashed the heart-stopping smile.
“Yes,” I replied, “very, very nervous.”
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“Me too,” he confessed, squinting his eyes as he took a sip of his drink. “I don’t want you to think I do this sort of think all the time,” he ran his hand through his hair as he offered the explanation. “I’ve never done anything like I did yesterday. That was inexcusable, and I need to tell you that I’m sorry again.”
“No, actually, you don’t need to tell me that anymore! Ever,” I was feeling much calmer, but the fan girl was still trying to fight with me.
“Yes, I do,” he took the glass from my hand as he spoke and placed it on the table. He took my hand in his, “I do need to tell you I’m sorry. Please, you have to know that that wasn’t me. That wasn’t something I’d ever imagined doing! I can’t tell you how awful I feel; how sorry I am for taking advantage of you.”
“Please stop!” I interrupted, “I really wish you would stop apologizing for something that I enjoyed so much! It’s making me feel much worse than the actual incident did!”
He looked at our hands. His were still holding mine; the now familiar look of disgust staining his stunning face again. “You don’t know how much last night has affected me,” he moved his eyes to mine as he spoke. I was beginning to accept the pounding of my heart and inability to take a proper breath as normal now. He reached his right hand to my cheek and gently stroked my hairline with his finger. The movement was feather light but still ignited my skin leaving a trail blazing where he touched. “I’ve never met someone like you. You just say what you have to say. Most girls aren’t that honest with me.”
“Well,” I paused because I knew that I had to phrase this carefully. But I really couldn’t think straight with him looking at me like that! “If you really want honesty, I’d scare the living shit out of you.”
His laugh was musical, “I doubt that. I feel like I’ve heard it all.”
“Uh, no,” I promised. “You haven’t. You’ve heard what the crap magazines say. You’ve heard all the things they claim the teens think or feel. And of course, I could be wrong, but I don’t think you’ve heard the entire thing from the cougar end.” I felt myself blush at making these admissions to him. I warned the fan girl to back off. I could feel her stirring. Oh, god, that smile.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Uh, why don’t you tell me about you instead,” I insisted, still trying to control the traitor fighting to escape.
As he leaned closer to me I could smell his cologne. The intoxicating scent made me even more lightheaded. “I really enjoyed hearing about it last night.”
Oh, shit! He LIKED it? He’s supposed to hate that stuff!
“You were so cute and animated when you were telling me about looking for pictures and cyber stalking,”
“Cute and animated, right,” I rolled my eyes.
“You were!” he smiled, letting go of my hands to get a cigarette. “You had a frantic tone when you were talking. It was absolutely adorable!” This time it was he who blushed. He lowered his eyes again.
“You’re blushing,” I told him. The color deepened on his beautiful face. He looked up from under his lids. The smolder he is so well known for sent flames through me again. I shuddered, reacting to the look. My body began begging for him. I felt the moisture begin to warm my thighs. I felt my nipples strain against the lace bra. He exhaled the smoke. How could something I found so disgusting be so damn sexy? “So tell me a little more about how scared I would be of you.”
I hesitated. I really couldn’t believe he wanted to hear this. “Really, there’s not much to say. Let’s just leave it at this: we all have very strong feelings for you.”
He inched closer. “Keep going,” he whispered. The huskiness of his tone was making my body beg again.
“Um, I don’t know what you want me to say,” I whispered back. But instead of my voice sounding sexy like his; it cracked with nerves.
He pulled away slightly. I wondered if he sensed how confused I felt. “Okay, why don’t you tell me about your friends,” I could hear the teasing tone in his voice now.
“My friends would die if they knew I was here,” I began. I wondered just how far I should go. “I um, I would be…” I couldn’t go on. This was too much for me.
“Your eyes light up when you speak about them,” he observed.
“That’s because my mind links right back to you, it’s Robouflage.”
Oh, no! You did NOT just do that!
Ah, the smile spread so perfectly across his face. I knew exactly what was coming next.
“Robouflage?”
Dammit!! You stupid moron!!!! I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip. I hoped that the pain would remind me not to say something so damn stupid again. Now I had to think of an answer that wouldn’t make all of this even worse.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to let it go?” I hoped.
“Not a chance,” he lit another cigarette, “Spill.”
“So, how long are you in town filming?” I hoped maybe I could change the subject.
“Spill it,” he repeated, “What is Robouflage?”
“Oh, it’s just stupid. When we talk about you some people say that we react a certain way: eyes light up, cheeks flush, hearts race. Basically we turn into crazy infatuated teen girls.” There, that was a completely accurate definition. Now if I can keep myself from saying any other stupid stuff, it would be good.
“You are not a teen girl,” he countered.
“No. I am not. I do act like on though. You seem to bring that out in us. Well, me particularly. I tend to go a bit overboard.”
“Last night there was no teen girl.”
His hand moved from the back of the couch to my shoulder. His fingers stroked my neck; the sensitive skin below my ear tingled. I reached my fingers out to touch his cheek and he closed his eyes leaning his face into my palm.
“How do you do this to me?”
I knew that he meant it as a rhetorical question, and that was good. I couldn’t have answered him anyway. He leaned in and kissed me. I was already so aroused that the touch of his lips to mine sent me over the edge. I thrust my hands into his hair, weaving it through my fingers. I pressed against him. His hands pulled me closer, smashing my chest against him. I let my tongue tease his lips, they parted willingly for me. While his tongue explored mine his hands moved to the front of my shirt. I could feel his thumbs stroking my nipples though the fabric.
I moaned into his mouth allowing my teeth to graze his tongue. His left hand pressed against my back again as his right found the skin of my stomach. I flinched at his touch. Everything felt different from last night. I was ready for this. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. But it was different! Last night the elevator was dark and we were drunk and angry. The sex just happened. Tonight, we were sober and the lights were on. He could see me. He would see my body. I needed a plan.
“What’s wrong?” he asked pulling away from me.
“I was just thinking it’s bright in here.” Good plan. Instead of responding, he smiled and stood up. He turned toward me and pulled at my hand to lift me from the couch. But as he waited there my face was level with the button fly of his jeans. I could see his erection straining against it. I leaned my head forward and opened my mouth. I bit gently through the fabric. I didn’t know what made me do it, but I enjoyed the reaction I got.
“Fuck!” he moaned, pulling me quickly from the couch. “What the hell was that?” he asked when our eyes met. He wasn’t angry. He was smoldering.
“I don’t know,” I teased. “It was just something about what I couldn’t see that was too tempting to ignore.” I reached down to the floor under the table and lifted a black tie that had been discarded on top of a white shirt. “How do you feel about games?” I asked as I ran the silky tie though my fingers.
“I’m so sorry,” he said offering me one of the glasses. I took it with two hands, afraid that my trembling fingers would spill the water on his song. I pulled the glass to my mouth and took a large, steadying gulp. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together as I swallowed. It wasn’t water. The cold vodka stunk as it slid down my throat. My eyes began to water. I took a deep breath. Well, that’ll calm me down!
He sat beside me, “Sorry. I told you that I hate to clean,” he said as he pushed the papers to the side. He looked at me and noticed my strange posture. I was still poised on the edge of the couch, “Are you nervous?” he asked. And once again, he flashed the heart-stopping smile.
“Yes,” I replied, “very, very nervous.”
next chapter
“Me too,” he confessed, squinting his eyes as he took a sip of his drink. “I don’t want you to think I do this sort of think all the time,” he ran his hand through his hair as he offered the explanation. “I’ve never done anything like I did yesterday. That was inexcusable, and I need to tell you that I’m sorry again.”
“No, actually, you don’t need to tell me that anymore! Ever,” I was feeling much calmer, but the fan girl was still trying to fight with me.
“Yes, I do,” he took the glass from my hand as he spoke and placed it on the table. He took my hand in his, “I do need to tell you I’m sorry. Please, you have to know that that wasn’t me. That wasn’t something I’d ever imagined doing! I can’t tell you how awful I feel; how sorry I am for taking advantage of you.”
“Please stop!” I interrupted, “I really wish you would stop apologizing for something that I enjoyed so much! It’s making me feel much worse than the actual incident did!”
He looked at our hands. His were still holding mine; the now familiar look of disgust staining his stunning face again. “You don’t know how much last night has affected me,” he moved his eyes to mine as he spoke. I was beginning to accept the pounding of my heart and inability to take a proper breath as normal now. He reached his right hand to my cheek and gently stroked my hairline with his finger. The movement was feather light but still ignited my skin leaving a trail blazing where he touched. “I’ve never met someone like you. You just say what you have to say. Most girls aren’t that honest with me.”
“Well,” I paused because I knew that I had to phrase this carefully. But I really couldn’t think straight with him looking at me like that! “If you really want honesty, I’d scare the living shit out of you.”
His laugh was musical, “I doubt that. I feel like I’ve heard it all.”
“Uh, no,” I promised. “You haven’t. You’ve heard what the crap magazines say. You’ve heard all the things they claim the teens think or feel. And of course, I could be wrong, but I don’t think you’ve heard the entire thing from the cougar end.” I felt myself blush at making these admissions to him. I warned the fan girl to back off. I could feel her stirring. Oh, god, that smile.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Uh, why don’t you tell me about you instead,” I insisted, still trying to control the traitor fighting to escape.
As he leaned closer to me I could smell his cologne. The intoxicating scent made me even more lightheaded. “I really enjoyed hearing about it last night.”
Oh, shit! He LIKED it? He’s supposed to hate that stuff!
“You were so cute and animated when you were telling me about looking for pictures and cyber stalking,”
“Cute and animated, right,” I rolled my eyes.
“You were!” he smiled, letting go of my hands to get a cigarette. “You had a frantic tone when you were talking. It was absolutely adorable!” This time it was he who blushed. He lowered his eyes again.
“You’re blushing,” I told him. The color deepened on his beautiful face. He looked up from under his lids. The smolder he is so well known for sent flames through me again. I shuddered, reacting to the look. My body began begging for him. I felt the moisture begin to warm my thighs. I felt my nipples strain against the lace bra. He exhaled the smoke. How could something I found so disgusting be so damn sexy? “So tell me a little more about how scared I would be of you.”
I hesitated. I really couldn’t believe he wanted to hear this. “Really, there’s not much to say. Let’s just leave it at this: we all have very strong feelings for you.”
He inched closer. “Keep going,” he whispered. The huskiness of his tone was making my body beg again.
“Um, I don’t know what you want me to say,” I whispered back. But instead of my voice sounding sexy like his; it cracked with nerves.
He pulled away slightly. I wondered if he sensed how confused I felt. “Okay, why don’t you tell me about your friends,” I could hear the teasing tone in his voice now.
“My friends would die if they knew I was here,” I began. I wondered just how far I should go. “I um, I would be…” I couldn’t go on. This was too much for me.
“Your eyes light up when you speak about them,” he observed.
“That’s because my mind links right back to you, it’s Robouflage.”
Oh, no! You did NOT just do that!
Ah, the smile spread so perfectly across his face. I knew exactly what was coming next.
“Robouflage?”
Dammit!! You stupid moron!!!! I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip. I hoped that the pain would remind me not to say something so damn stupid again. Now I had to think of an answer that wouldn’t make all of this even worse.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to let it go?” I hoped.
“Not a chance,” he lit another cigarette, “Spill.”
“So, how long are you in town filming?” I hoped maybe I could change the subject.
“Spill it,” he repeated, “What is Robouflage?”
“Oh, it’s just stupid. When we talk about you some people say that we react a certain way: eyes light up, cheeks flush, hearts race. Basically we turn into crazy infatuated teen girls.” There, that was a completely accurate definition. Now if I can keep myself from saying any other stupid stuff, it would be good.
“You are not a teen girl,” he countered.
“No. I am not. I do act like on though. You seem to bring that out in us. Well, me particularly. I tend to go a bit overboard.”
“Last night there was no teen girl.”
His hand moved from the back of the couch to my shoulder. His fingers stroked my neck; the sensitive skin below my ear tingled. I reached my fingers out to touch his cheek and he closed his eyes leaning his face into my palm.
“How do you do this to me?”
I knew that he meant it as a rhetorical question, and that was good. I couldn’t have answered him anyway. He leaned in and kissed me. I was already so aroused that the touch of his lips to mine sent me over the edge. I thrust my hands into his hair, weaving it through my fingers. I pressed against him. His hands pulled me closer, smashing my chest against him. I let my tongue tease his lips, they parted willingly for me. While his tongue explored mine his hands moved to the front of my shirt. I could feel his thumbs stroking my nipples though the fabric.
I moaned into his mouth allowing my teeth to graze his tongue. His left hand pressed against my back again as his right found the skin of my stomach. I flinched at his touch. Everything felt different from last night. I was ready for this. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. But it was different! Last night the elevator was dark and we were drunk and angry. The sex just happened. Tonight, we were sober and the lights were on. He could see me. He would see my body. I needed a plan.
“What’s wrong?” he asked pulling away from me.
“I was just thinking it’s bright in here.” Good plan. Instead of responding, he smiled and stood up. He turned toward me and pulled at my hand to lift me from the couch. But as he waited there my face was level with the button fly of his jeans. I could see his erection straining against it. I leaned my head forward and opened my mouth. I bit gently through the fabric. I didn’t know what made me do it, but I enjoyed the reaction I got.
“Fuck!” he moaned, pulling me quickly from the couch. “What the hell was that?” he asked when our eyes met. He wasn’t angry. He was smoldering.
“I don’t know,” I teased. “It was just something about what I couldn’t see that was too tempting to ignore.” I reached down to the floor under the table and lifted a black tie that had been discarded on top of a white shirt. “How do you feel about games?” I asked as I ran the silky tie though my fingers.