Going Down

"What are you doing?" Amy implored.

"We're out of time, my sweet girl."

"What?"

"Finish yourself off. Do it, now, quickly. I want to see."

Cunt on fire, Amy leant against the metal walls with legs open wide. Without hesitation, she plunged three fingers inside her slick hole. Ramming them deep, she fucked herself forcefully. Again and again, she thrust, interspersing the fucking with frantic rubbing of her clit. Harder, faster, juices flowed to lubricate her movement and the musky scent of sex overpowered Marsha's perfume.

Lusty groans bounced around the metal walls as Amy's climax quickly built. With time precious, she did nothing to slow it.

"Ugh... ooh," she cried as her cunt contracted, sucking at her fingers. Droplets of slick, hot juice spattered the floor between her feet. Panting, sweating, a satisfied smile bloomed across Amy's pretty face and, exhaling slowly, she shuddered with contentment.

A hand clasped hers, gently withdrawing the encased fingers. Amy watched, delighted, as Marsha sucked her sticky fingers, one by one. She licked them clean, juices spilling from her lips to mingle with her glossy lipstick. When she was done, she kissed Amy's lips then, tilting her head, her gaze drifted upward to the translucent dome set into the ceiling just above the lift's doors. With a smile stretching the corners of her mouth, she pressed a manicured fingertip to the intercom button.

"Okay boys," she said, calmly and clearly, "shows over. Turn the power back on and let us out."

The lift immediately buzzed into life. The lights flickered on and the mechanism hummed. It began sliding downward, smooth and fast.

Level five...

"It's fixed?"

"Yep. Didn't you notice the difference last time it moved?"

"No. I was a bit occupied."

"They got it going then turned the power off again." Marsha shot Amy a sideways glance. "Smile at your fan club, Amy."

"What? Oh my goodness... we've been watched?"

"Of course. The camera's right there, it's not hidden."

"Yes, but when the power went off..."

Marsha shook her head. "The maintenance department all love you and the security guards. Me as well, of course," she added with a playful smirk.

Level four...

Red-faced, Amy gaped at the camera.

"Does it bother you?" Marsha enquired.

"Yes!"

"Why? It doesn't worry me. I'm looking forward to hearing the rumours."

"Rumours? About us?"

"Does that bother you?"

Amy blinked, "I guess it depends."

"Oh? On what?"

"On whether this is a one-off or not."

"Amy, sweetie, my schedule's full, I told you that. I only fuck my personal trainer because he's already in my diary."

"So put me in your diary."

"Seriously?"

"Yes." Amy stood tall, determination in her eyes.

Level three...

Marsha's smile wavered. "If it's a helping hand to the top you're after, you don't need to see me again. I'm sure a clever girl with a talent for marketing can make today work to her advantage."

Amy snorted, "Do you think I'm that shallow?"

"Possibly."

"I'm not. Invite me to dinner. Get to know me."

Marsha frowned. Glancing nervously at the rapidly descending numbers on the lift's display, she rummaged in her handbag and fished out her powder compact. She proceeded to dab her nose then reapply a layer of rich, red gloss to her smudged lips. She shunned Amy, yet her eyelids fluttered longingly when Amy's fingertips brushed her arm.

Amy smiled. It was enough.

Level two...

The powder compact snapped shut and Marsha, looking cool and composed, positioned herself in front of the doors, poised to exit. "Come on Amy, get dressed," she urged. "Chop-chop. That door will open in about five seconds."

"Five seconds? Shit."

Panicked, Amy sprang into action. She struggled with buttons, flapping like a chicken in her struggle to do them up. Catching sight of her reflection in the polished metal walls, she laughed aloud.

"Something funny?" Marsha asked.

"Look at the state of me."

"A little ruffled, that's all."

Amy grinned. Buttons fastened - more or less - she tucked her blouse in and flicked back her hair. Just in time...

Level one...

The lift came to a stop and the doors slid smoothly open.

"Ciao," said Marsha, throwing Amy a mischievous smile. "It was fun." She marched out of the lift, head held high, Italian stilettos clicking on the polished concrete.

"Wait," Amy cried, "is that it?"

The shoes kept on clacking but Marsha raised a hand, "Until next time." She waved without turning around.

Grinning from ear to ear, Amy fist-pumped the air as she watched Marsha's curves sashay away. Then spinning around, she gave a thumbs-up to the camera.

"Thank you," she mouthed.

Taking a deep breath, she stood in the centre of the lift with her hands on her hips. The doors swished shut and the shiny metal box continued going down.