Exceeding All Your Expectations

This story was prompted by a recent trip to NYC and all the impressive skyscrapers. Thanks to LSEiland for editing this story. Her suggestions are appreciated, as she is never afraid to redirect me when I stray.

*****

Ken stopped by Kimberly's desk. He was her supervisor- or boss, as her friends called him, though he didn't care for that title. They worked in a marketing agency in midtown Manhattan. It was Friday, and she was anxious for the workweek to be over.

"I made arrangements for the meeting with our new client on Wednesday at 2 p.m. Be sure you are there to accompany me," Ken reminded her.

She considered this her first chance to take lead of a new account.

As Ken was turning away, he also casually mentioned, "The elevators are going to be refurbished over the weekend, you will be happy to know."

Kimberly worked on the 80^th floor in a steel-and-glass-clad high-rise building that towered 95-stories above the ground. The elevators had always been a distraction- even frightening. They were the original elevators from the 1960's era. They were slow, jerky, and frequently out-of-service. When a car was out of commission, the result was a long wait to ride the remaining elevator up to her office. When they were crowded in the morning, she swore that she felt the elevator drop a few inches as that last person squeezed into the car and the door shut, packing the riders as if they were on the ground floor of a rock concert. Starting Monday, she would not need to arrive 30 minutes early to assure she was at work on time, perchance one car was inoperable.

Monday arrived, and Kimberly immediately noticed the changes. The walls were no longer stainless steel with the artifacts of graffiti and lurid artistry scratched to the point of being only slightly less offensive than if unadulterated. Now the elevator walls were paneled in a rich wood with an interlocking grain pattern. The doors were inlayed in wood with an abstract design.

There had to be a white noise generator as the conversations were softened to hushed whispers in the background. Even the inevitable cell phone conversation was no longer as obnoxious. The doors made a whoosh when they opened and closed, reminding her of the doors in the old Star Trek episodes she still watched on occasion.

That very day, when she arrived at her desk, there was a bouquet of roses and an invitation for lunch with her erstwhile boyfriend, Bradley, on Wednesday. I will be back in plenty of time for that meeting at 2, she reminded herself of the important commitment that day.

Bradley worked in software engineering; that's all she knew. He was a little nerdy, as he always tinkering at home with electronics and programming. And coding, he called it- sometimes with unusual results. Such as the time he programmed a pneumatic gun in the refrigerator to spew little squares of Jell-O at her whenever she opened the door. This was his solution when she announced a new diet to lose a few pounds.

The two had been in an on-again off-again romance for over two years, interspersed with weeks of passionate lovemaking that was often terminated with a silly misunderstanding. Or work. He seemed to be always working on a project, which accounted for this last hiatus in their relationship- or so he told her. But he always excited her when they met. He was so fit, handsome and incredibly engaging, despite his insistence on total isolation when he was working at his computer terminal. So Kimberly was anxiously anticipating the reunion luncheon date on Wednesday and intended to make it especially memorable for him. She knew, above all, that he was the one she wanted to live with for the rest of her life. If only he thought the same... She pondered her future, and convinced herself that she would try a new approach to capture his attention.

Wednesday arrived, and it was a beautiful spring day. Warm breezes and a hint of fragrance from the blooming flowers were detectable even amongst the diesel fumes in Midtown.

They met at Giuseppe's, a favorite of Bradley's, where Italian food was the specialty.

Bradley was standing at the maître'd podium as she arrived precisely at noon (he was always on time). The waiter seated them on the outside terrace. Bradley was being the gentleman; pulling out a chair for her. She had just refreshed her favorite perfume before meeting and, after she was seated, he bent over and took a deep breath of the fragrance arising from the fold in her neck, followed by a brief moan, as if he was already submitting to her wiles. Bradley took a seat opposite her at the small bistro table covered in a white tablecloth and ordered two goblets containing the finest Montepulciano d'Abruzzo she had ever sipped.

Kimberly was happy to see Bradley, as she had been chaste since their last date two months ago. They bantered about work, and Kimberly talked about the new elevators in her building. He seemed totally disinterested in the subject, as if his mind was occupied with a different project. Something had to be done to recapture his attention, as Kimberly did not want him to wander from her again.

To show her renewed attraction, Kimberly removed her right foot from the black patent leather heels she was wearing, and started rubbing her stockinged foot under his pant leg. Bradley's eyes widened while reading the menu, which was a sign his penchant for the smoothness of nylon on his skin was revived as soon as her foot touched his shin. His eyelids closed as he savored her advances. She paused when their lunch arrived. They resumed trading tidbits about their workdays.

As they ate tiramisu for dessert, Kimberly leaned over the table and whispered, "Take it out and let me satisfy your male appetite, my way."

She had never tried this before, but sexual promiscuity in public had always fascinated her. Kimberly stared at him, almost willing him mentally to obey her. Do it, you jerk, take it out and let me do it to you.

Bradley rearranged the white tablecloth and then pulled his cock from his pants with a not-so-subtle effort. Kimberly proceeded to slowly rub her nylon clad foot up and down his exposed cock under the tablecloth, pressing her foot firmly against the rod as it stiffened. She deftly manipulated the head between her big toe and its neighbor. He stumbled and stuttered while attempting to continue their conversation, then became silent. She knew Bradley was being seduced into submission with smooth nylon. Nylon was his weakness, and he always insisted on nylon stockings during sexual fantasies.

Kimberly sipped her wine, letting the liquid linger on the tip of her tongue, never letting her eyesight veer from his. Within a matter of minutes, there was an impending orgasm from her stroking. She did not stop. Her foot stroked him expertly; Up, down, up, down his shaft, wiggling her toes, and running the silky nylon over the tip, playing with his cock in ways he had likely never felt before. The spasms of the orgasmic culmination were transmitted through her foot. She continued to rub, until she felt his cock soften only slightly, reassuring her of her success.

Kimberly swung her legs from outside the tablecloth and replaced her heels on her feet. She arose, then leaned over and spoke in his ear dismissively, "Enough of that, I need to get back to work." She noticed his pants were stained with his semen, but Kimberly left him nonetheless to deal with his predicament. Bradley looked back at her with a conniving smile. She recognized that payback was already preoccupying his mind.

Thoroughly aroused, Kimberly detoured on her way back to work, stopping at a park to regain her composure. She sat on a bench and just dreamed about a life with Bradley, each bringing the other to sexual surrender. Then, she returned to the building just after 1:30 pm; the lobby was empty. The elevator door opened upon her arrival in the lobby. The new elevators had been installed. Unlike previously, she did not have to wait to return to her afternoon duties at work. Stepping in the elevator, the doors closed with that characteristic Star Trek whoosh and the car started to move.

"Good afternoon, Kimberly." It was a voice, and it knew her name. There is no one else in the elevator, obviously, Kimberly thought. How does it recognize me?

The voice was feminine with a fluidity of perfect pronunciation, but had that unmistakable robotic artificiality to it. It was similar to what she might hear on a pre-recorded telephone solicitation from a bank for a new checking account. Kimberly did not expect to be greeted by name. It seems like a nice amenity, she thought.

Her boyfriend had spoken excitedly in the past about SARIS (software adapted robotic interactive speech) that he had patented and wondered if that was included in the updated elevator. Nevertheless, she found it eerie being alone, wondering if a real person was hiding in the ceiling. Kimberly refused to respond to this errant voice.

Alone in the elevator, Kimberly positioned herself against the back of the chamber with her hands on the smooth railing. Something about the rigidity of the dark wood railing made her think of the luncheon. She put her thumb and first finger to surround the railing and ran her hand back and forth across the smooth handrail in a not very subtle reenactment of her intentions the next time they met. In her imagination was Bradley's erect cock at lunch, as he attempted to surreptitiously return it to his pants and disguise the telltale spot of dampness on his khakis. Her lunch-date was wonderful, and she was anticipating her forwardness reigniting a torrid romance with Bradley.

Kimberly was startled again by the voice. "How was your luncheon date, Kimberly?"

How would this voice know she was at lunch? She had only eaten a salad, always careful to maintain her figure by eating the right foods.

"The tiramisu was delicious, wasn't it?" Again, that mysterious voice addressed her.

Kimberly had no idea how this could be known. Her curiosity was piqued. After this last question, she answered reluctantly, as she did not know how much this virtual attendant knew about her.

"How did you know I had tiramisu?" Kimberly spoke into the silent still air of the car, turning her head as she attempted to localize the source of the voice when it replied.

"The SMS-4520 sensor installed in this elevator can detect odors, fragrances and aromas carried on the clothes of the riders. Let me review the data on you. It identified mascarpone, coffee, cocoa and rum. The analyzer determined this combination must be tiramisu. Giuseppe's is the closest restaurant that serves tiramisu. Did you eat on that beautiful terrace?"

Kimberly considered if she should respond, and the intrusion of this virtual elevator attendant. What else did she know about her date?

"The man you had lunch with, he excites you, doesn't he?"

Again, an uninvited inquiry- and more personal questions, thought Kimberly. This ride could not end soon enough.

"Kimberly, you are still aroused, aren't you? The TPT-143 physiological and emotion monitor detects an increased body temperature, perspiration, rapid pulse rate and shallow breathing compared to your ride this morning. The logical conclusion made by the TPT-143 analyzer is that he stimulated your sexual imagination during lunch."

She ignored the voice, not wanting to discuss her love-life with a stranger. Who knows where her responses may be stored, or worse, maybe she could be embarrassed in front of her co-workers, or even blackmailed if she answered.

"Furthermore, the SMS-4520 has detected an aroma redolent of your sexual arousal emanating between your legs. The analysis of this reveals that your acquaintance at lunch made your panties moist. No need for you to answer, I know this might embarrass you to admit."

"That is personal. You have no right to know that!" responded Kimberly, now indignant at the intrusion in her personal affairs.

"Now, now, Kimberly... we are just two women confiding with one another, don't be offended."

Kimberly knew the elevator ride to the 80^th floor would terminate soon, and this would conclude the repartee. So she did not respond this time. The floors were passing by: 26...27...28 at a rapid pace in the high-speed ascent, only one minute more.

Her eyes remained focused on the display of the passing floors when she noticed the elevator slowing. The progression of changing numbers in the digital display slowed, then stopped.

The LED lights went out completely, so the car was awash in the dim red light only. Music started to play in the car. It came from multiple speakers, as sonorous as if she was in a symphony hall, rather than an 8x8 foot chamber in which there seemed to be no secrets. She recognized it immediately. "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith. This was her favorite love song. Somebody knows more about her than she desired.

Kimberly moved to the opposite wall of the elevator and turned around, her back against the door.

"Whoever you are, I need to be back at work. I don't like what you're doing. You have made me feel trapped in this elevator," Kimberly confessed, perturbed and frightened by her precarious situation.

"We have changed the mood of the car. Don't you want to play with yourself and relieve that erotic tension; that sexual energy; that amorous attraction to Bradley? If you do it, you will be much more relaxed and productive at your meeting this afternoon. I will turn off the camera, I promise, Kimberly. I'm your friend." Kimberly knew if she could have an orgasm, the arousal brought on by Bradley would dissipate, making it easier to concentrate this afternoon.

"What camera?! Have you been recording this conversation? I am going to report you to Human Resources," Kimberly announced, as she turned her head searching for a microphone that she could shout into to make her point.

"Kimberly, let's get serious. You are going to tell the HR department that you were talking to a voice in the elevator? I don't think so. They would think you daft. I am sure you will be ridiculed out of your job once that rumor is spread."

There was a pause, then the voice stated in a newfound tone of authority, "And it will be spread. Remember, everyone rides the elevator, Kimberly."

Kimberly realized she had already said too much.

The voice continued. "Remove your vibrator from your purse."

"I don't have a vibrator." Kimberly resisted any more incursions into her person.

The voice responded, "The BXS-7890 metal detector identified a tubular object in your purse and identified it as a vibrator. Please remove it from your purse. We looked at your schedule; you have a meeting in 12 min, 42 sec with your boss. You don't want to be late."

I have to attend that meeting! If this fucking elevator, under control of this bitch, doesn't start moving, I'm going to look like a slacker to my boss—and lose my first account, she thought, but carefully not revealing her underlying desperation at her predicament.

She reached into her purse and pulled out the small bullet vibrator she carried, hidden in a small pocket. It was dark blue and covered in a smooth silicon wrap. She held it in her hands. It was about 2 inches long. She kept this little friend with her, as she did need relief at times; especially when she worked late at night, usually alone in the office. A brief literotica story, a tiny vibrator, and bang: relief. Then back to work- tension relieved.

"Please insert the vibrator in your panties and turn it on."

"I'm not going to do this, and who knows who will watch me. You likely have cameras all over, and who knows what else. This isn't an elevator; this is more like a video booth in a porn parlor."

"I resent that comment, Kimberly. Your activities will be in complete privacy. We have been sensitized that many women may be reluctant for fear of detection. There is a lens cap hanging from the camera on your right. You can apply it, so you can be secure knowing that you will you not be videotaped or recorded. I promise, Kimberly."

While she was still skeptical, she did as she was commanded, increasingly worried about missing her meeting. She spoke as she positioned the vibrator and rearranged her panties. "What the hell does a promise from some voice- a voice programmed by some asshole that hasn't had a fuck his entire life, mean to me? You're just that, some figment of an imagination for some jerk-off nerd who masturbates over pictures of porn queens posing on the internet."

"Oh, Kimberly, you know how to hurt my feelings. I wish you would be more appreciative. I'm your friend, trying to include you in an adventure to try something new. I think you will regret saying those words."

"I just had a romantic adventure at lunch, and I am perfectly able to seduce whomever I choose. I don't need to have an orgasm right now. I would much rather have Bradley's cock in my pussy. Yes, maybe when I arrive at my desk, I'll call him and tell him that. Let him know I am starved for his sex and willing to do whatever he commands of me."

Once she said that, the elevator car started again, but very slowly. The lights stayed dim.

Wait a minute... will he hear what I just said? Kimberly, what did you just do?

Then, like being struck with an electric shock, she realized: Is this what Bradley does?

She felt it- the vibrator, precisely aligned; its shaft between her pussy lips, its tip on her clit. She was feeling its unwavering vibration and the saturating wetness between her legs. She leaned backward against the railing, her elbows supporting herself with her quivery legs spread in anticipation of an inevitable orgasm to which she always succumbed.

She started to thrash her head to and fro in her erotic submission until she caught a glimpse. Next to her was... Bradley. It looked like Bradley- No, not the actual Bradley, but a full sized hologram. He was looking straight ahead, his torso outlined by a network of thin strands of neon blue light outlining his physique. And he was nude, save for a brief that bulged with his encased cock and balls; but unmistakably Bradley.

There was a revelation; it all made sense. This experience was all Bradley. There was no SMS-4520, no SARIS, no TPT-143 and no BXS-7890. Bradley knew all those facts about her. He had tricked her.

As she looked at his image, she addressed him sternly, "Bradley, I know this scheme is all you. You are the perpetrator."

She started to realize all that nerdiness and programming resulted in this encounter set up by Bradley.

"OK Bradley, stop this- or, else!!"

A voice replied- his voice.

"You planned that little foot massage then abandoned me at the restaurant; my pants stained with cum. I had been waiting for the moment, the perfect moment, to show you what I do at work; you gave me that opportunity today." He then interrupted his train of thought, "What did you mean, or else?"

"If you want that cock of yours in my pussy tonight, you put an end to this, right now."

But he didn't. He was staring straight ahead. She turned to touch him, intending to caress his body, but there was just the vaporous pallet deflecting the light. How Kimberly desired him at this moment. She crossed her legs, pressing the vibrator between her lips intensifying the vibrations onto her pleasure button.

"You want me to orgasm- don't you, Bradley?" She turned and addressed the hologram.

"You didn't ask my permission to give me an orgasm at that restaurant, did you?" He continued, "I stood up with the napkin tucked into my belt to cover up the accident. But as I made my way to the men's room, it fell off. The creamy liquid left little doubt, making me look like a perv. So you set the stage for this reprisal, of sorts.