Up and Down in the Elevator

It was 2 a.m., the end of an inhumanly long Friday night shift at the large newspaper where I'd worked for two years, and Calvin and I trudged to the elevator. Calvin had only been hired on six months before, but we'd forged a fast, deep friendship based on shared quirky personality traits and a fanatical love of hip-hop.

We were literally the last souls to leave the newsroom before the skeleton shift began at 5. As usual, we'd spent the whole time talking music and grousing about diva reporters and impossible editors. The only difference was, this was my last day here. I'd accepted another job and would soon be Chicago-bound. That knowledge peppered our conversation with moments of nostalgia all night.

I was sad to see our last day draw to a close, and Calvin's reluctant steps into the old service elevator told me he was, too.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" he asked as the doors closed.

"Road trip, a couple hours up the coast."

"That should be fun. The northern beaches are nicer than here." He leaned his lanky frame against the side wall and slid his black eyes from my head to my feet.

He often did this, and I could never tell if it was his way of checking me out or if it was just some sort of tic he had, so I ignored it. Besides, at barely 21, he was just a kid. A six-foot-two kid with mile-wide shoulders and a sexy goatee, but a kid nonetheless.

"What about you? Got any plans?" I asked.

Just then, a metallic screech ground out from somewhere above the car, and the elevator whined to a stop.

"Shit!" Calvin exclaimed. We waited a few minutes, but we weren't moving. "I knew one day this thing would break down. Try the control panel."

I punched several worn buttons while he braced himself and tried to pry open the doors, but we were stuck between the third and fourth floors and the doors wouldn't budge. The emergency call button yielded only dead air--recent cutbacks meant no one was on duty after 5 p.m. anyway.

Calvin flipped out his phone, but the back elevator had notoriously bad reception, and I saw it for the desperate hope it was. Nope.

The building's 70-year-old night watchman, Diego, was well-liked, but he often snoozed the entire shift in his first-floor office. We yelled and banged on the walls on the off chance he might hear us, but after ten minutes it was clear he wasn't coming. No one else would be back in the building for 3 hours. Mad as hell, I kicked the doors.

"We'll be fine till morning," Calvin said, trying to calm me down.

"Brilliant," I spat. "One last going-away present from this piece of shit job."

The corners of Calvin's mouth twitched, and I glared at him. The twitch only grew worse. Finally he dropped all pretense and chuckled.

"Only you would get stuck in an elevator on your last day of work." He shook his head. "This is gonna make a great story."

I rolled my eyes, but his mirth was cracking me. "Yeah, I can see the headline now: Disgruntled ex-employee strangles coworker in elevator."

We cracked up. "See, it's not so bad," he said. "Besides, you could be stuck on an elevator with somebody a lot more annoying than me." He gave a shy smile, making my stomach do a tiny flip.

"You've got a point, there," I replied. "And this is the last time we'll be hanging out."

"What do you mean? You're not moving to Chicago for a couple of weeks, right?" He still smiled, but his voice held a note of concern. "

"I'm just saying, this is our last night as coworkers, and could be the last time we see each other for a very long time."

"Geez, thanks for bringing me down."

We were quiet for a bit. Three hours. I may as well get comfortable. I sat down Indian-style in the corner, spreading the skirt of my denim dress over my knees. It had a wide, tempting neckline that showed off my charms perfectly. Even I couldn't resist glancing down sometimes.

"So tell me how you get a great elevator story," I said. "Seems like a whole lot of nothing to me. We're just sitting here until someone rescues us."

"You have to make it interesting. We could play a game," he suggested, dropping to his knees beside me. "Let's play Questions."

"Like in junior high?" I laughed. "I haven't played that in forever! How does it go again?"

"You just answer questions, and if you don't want to answer it, you have to do a dare."

"That's dangerous. How do I know you'll keep your mouth shut after I'm gone?"

He got a sly grin. "What happens in the elevator stays in the elevator, right?"

"OK," I agreed.

"Question 1: What's in your bag? Girls carry these huge-ass purses--what the hell are you all lugging around?"

I pulled out my makeup bag, my cellphone, a writing pad, 3 pens, my wallet, a lighter and a rubber ball. Swimming around at the bottom of the bag were the joint and an engraved flask of vodka one of my work buddies had slipped me earlier to "grease the wheels "of my last late shift.

Calvin's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oooohhh! Mrs. Glenn, this is a drug-free workplace. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate those items immediately."

"Or we could make the game more interesting," I said. "If the other person answers the question right away, the asker has to take a hit. It'll keep us asking the hard questions."

"Okay, it's your turn."

"When you lost your virginity," I began, and Calvin groaned. "Hey! When you lost your virginity, what were you worried about the most?"

"I...Uh." Calvin's face turned red as a beet, and he appeared stumped. "Ummm...."

"Ten seconds, you have to drink!" I crowed.

He took a swig good-naturedly. "I was worried about my size."

Poor baby. "Size doesn't matter," I said magnaminously. There goes my fantasy. "It's what you do with it."

He gave a secretive chuckle. "Yeah, well I did learn what to do with it."

An hour later, we had finished the flask and the joint and were feeling more much comfortable.

"Have you ever had sex in public?" Calvin asked, leering playfully and waggling his eyebrows. He was adorable drunk.

"Err, define public."

"Public! People around, chance of getting caught. That shit."

I considered telling him one of my more intense secrets, but changed my mind. "I did it on one of the conference tables at UM's Department of Africana Studies."

"No way!" Calvin looked impressed.

"But it was Sunday, my boyfriend's dad was the chair—that's how he got the key—and no one was in the building. It was still awesome, though. How about you?"

Calvin looked sheepish. "I haven't really done it anywhere too crazy. Backseat in Jose Marti Park back in high school."

"That's good! That's more public than mine," I reassured him. I'd noticed that Calvin's stories were all a bit tame. It got me thinking for my next question.

"How many people have you slept with, C?"

His face went red and he coughed a little. "Damn! OK. My number is a little low, because all of them were real long-term relationships."

"So that makes...."

"Four."

My jaw dropped.

"Even still, I've had a loooot of sex," Calvin rushed to inform me. "I'm not as innocent as it sounds. Trust me," he gave me a look bold enough to make my face burn, "I know how to please a woman."

"Practice makes perfect," I joked, masking my curiosity.

"How about you? You're a respectable young lady," he paused, giving me the side-eye, "but you're also a Scorpio. How experienced are you?"

I smirked. "I've had twelve lovers," I lied. Give or take about 50. "But I'm older than you."

"You're not that much older. You're what? 25? I'll be 22 next year."

"You've got a lot of living yet to do."

I'd met Calvin's current girlfriend a couple times. Sweet girl, but kind of dull. Probably saved doggy style for special occasions. They'd been together for a year, and I wondered if he was getting bored.

People say opposites attract, and that may have played into us. I'm a little on the short side, Calvin is over six feet. My chocolate skin contrasts with his caramel complexion, and I'm what the brothers call "thick," while Calvin's swimmers muscles were long and lean. Judging by his girl's figure, he liked a little extra meat, but where I have shapely legs and hips, sculpted arms and a spectacular chest, she just looked soft and doughy.

"I see why people invented furniture," I complained as I shifted around, trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. "There's no way to get right in here."

After a few minutes of watching me wiggle, Calvin got exasperated. "Just come over here and lay on me," he offered. He slumped against the back wall and I used his thigh as a pillow. Too late, I realized he had a double-scoop of ice cream view of my tits. I tried not to notice his crotch bulging next to my head.

"That's better, right?" He smoothed the hair away from my face. I was quiet as he traced a finger across my forehead. His lips looked red and soft. "Take off your glasses," he whispered.

I laid them aside a little gingerly, more apprehensive than if I'd removed some clothing.

"Your eyes are so exotic," he said.

"No they're not," I retorted. My eyes are just normal black eyes, but they have a dramatic slant at the corner that the frames of my fashionable glasses tend to hide. I fought a strange urge to shield my face.

"I feel like this is the first time I'm really seeing you," Calvin remarked.

His fingertips played down the side of my face and around my full lips. I hoped he couldn't see my pulse hammering in my neck.

I wet my suddenly dry lips, inadvertently licking his lingering finger, and he inhaled softly. He gazed down at me in his lap, and slid the pinkie across my now-wet bottom lip, with just enough pressure to press open my mouth open.

"It's your turn," I reminded him softly.

"Huh?" he asked, still running his pinkie across my lip.

"To ask a question. I asked the last one."

He blinked a couple of times to clear his head. This time when his eyes did the scan, it was slow and meaningful. He looked dead in my face. "I have a question to ask, but I don't want to offend you."

A pang of worry flashed through me, because I was wet already, and I could tell by the charge in the air where things were going. But I couldn't welch without looking like he had me weak.

"Cone of Silence: It stays in the elevator," I said.

"Well, okay. What if we were single?"

"So what if we were?"

He jostled my shoulder. "You know what. Me and you..." he gave the most predatory smile I'd ever seen. For a crazy second I wondered if he'd engineered the entire situation.

"Yeah, I guess I might give you a test drive. You can keep up your end of the conversation. And I like how you fit in them jeans," I joked.

"And you're lethal in a dress," he replied. "Sometimes, when I'm trying to work and you walk by wrapped up just right... You know what you do to me."

It was the first time we'd openly acknowledged the chemistry between us. Calvin's eyes got warmer, and he spread his fingers wide. His hand almost spanned the width of my midriff. He stroked the fins of my ribcage achingly slow. His voice, already deep, went husky.

"I remember the first time we actually talked. I mean, not about news or something you needed from me. Remember? I kicked that UTFO lyric."

"Well, yeah, I was surprised. Even I didn't know all the words, and you were what, seven when the song came out?"

He laughed. "Yeah, you had me pegged for one of those punk college kids who thinks 'Doggy Style' is old school. I had to flip the script on you. You were wearing this dress, too."

"That's when you saw me as a real person." He looked down at my two brown half-moons, pushing out of the top of the bodice. "Perspective makes all the difference in the world."

The way his hand stroked me up and down, almost cupping my bosom, I wasn't sure if he was talking about my change of heart or his view of my cleavage. The motion was coaxing more of my breasts into the open, as the neckline gradually followed his downward strokes.

I was desperately trying to put the brakes on my body, but my nipples were so swollen they felt like bruises. My head was swimming. I had to sit up. Arching my back, I pushed myself upright and scooted beside him.

Calvin raised an eyebrow. "What, worried you can't control yourself?"

"You wish," I said, poking him in the side.

He shied away like a little girl. "Hahaha, no, I hate being tickled," he squirmed.

Fiendishly, I ran butterfly touches up his neck and around his back, as he gasped and hollered. Then he went on the offensive, goosing me back.

He was fast and strong; his tickles were soft pinches that hurt a bit, but they felt good too.

Giggling, I realised I was losing ground. I pushed him back into the wall and swung a knee over his hips, just as he managed to grab both of my wrists. Still chuckling, he held them tightly behind my back, forcing me backwards to knock my balance off.

I struggled, but with my arms pinned and the columns of our bodies pressed tight, the motion just jiggled my breasts and ground my pussy on his lap. As good as it felt, I froze.

There was no sound except our heavy breathing. I still straddled him, trapped at a 45 degre angle, and as I panted, my nipples dragged up and down his chest like two fingertips. The friction sent sparks running through my body.

He tilted his head sideways and our eyes locked; we weren't playing anymore.

"Calvin," I whispered, "don't--"

"Don't what?" He brought his luscious lips within a fraction of mine. "Don't act like this might be our last chance? I'm tired of pretending I don't want this. Aren't you?"

I was. It must've shown in my eyes, because his mouth crashed on mine and took my breath away. His plush lips massaged me; I leaned up into him and he dropped my wrists to pull us closer.

Neck bites interspersed his kisses, driving me crazy. His hands snaked up and down my sides, coming tantalizingly close to my hot zones. I moaned when the stiff ridge in his pants stubbed against me. I knew he could feel my heat through his jeans.

He palmed my boobs like grapefruit, stroking the tortured nipples with his thumbs and squeezing them. "God, you're so fine," he mumbled. "I wanted you from the second I saw you."

He forced the dress off my shoulders and arms. Except for my satin leopard-print bra, I was nude to the waist.

"Damn!" Calvin cursed softly, nuzzling my cleavage. "Come on, mami, let me see what I've been dreaming of."

I peeled the bra cups down, letting my breasts bounce into the open. His slack-jawed look was nearly comical, but he was dead serious when he latched onto my right breast.

Both hands kneaded and squeezed my tit flesh, and he sucked like I held the antidote to everything wrong with the world. Swiftly accelerating sparks pushed me toward overload. I trembled under his mouth, my belly squeezing in and out.

"Look at me," he groaned. I couldn't open my heavy-lidded eyes.

"I said, look at me," he rasped, and lightly bit my nipple. The unexpected shock pushed a jolt of juice into my panties, and I focused on his eyes just as he slipped two fingers into my hot folds.

"I knew you would be soft, but I didn't know you would be this wet," he choked. He kissed my tit, soothing the sting, while circling my oversized clit. His eyes widened.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"My not-so-little secret. Yes." Many guys had said I had the largest clit they'd ever seen. It wasn't like the girls in pornos, whose clits look like little dicks with labia that hangs like batwings. Mine is an extra-large doorbell; round, feminine and begging to be rung.

He ran his finger over it and I shivered. I was super slick. His eyes narrowed as my scent grew stronger in the elevator.

"You're sensitive," he said sharply, drawing lazy figure eights. "How often do you touch yourself?" he asked.

"Ugghh," I gasped as he pressed it, "maybe once or twice a day."

He held his fingers up in a "V" and clear strands of juice stretched between them, catching the light like jewels.

"Ever think of me while you touched it?" he asked, pushing the digits between my lips.

I nodded as I sucked, moaning with delight.

His eyes were bottomless. "What did you see us doing?"

"Everything," I whispered.

"Show me."

I raised his shirt hem and fumbled with the zipper. The bulge underneath drew my eyes like a magnet. I pulled his boxers down to reveal the most beautiful dick in the world.

It was a long, fat candy stick with blue veins and a thick, shiny head, hard as fucking hell. He was worried he would be too big! I realized. I couldn't wait to feel it stretching my lips. I grabbed it instinctively and dipped down to kiss the slit.

"Oh, shit," Calvin grunted. He squeezed my aching breasts as I backed up on all fours.

I pushed his cock firmly against his abdomen and buried my nose in his balls, inhaling deeply. Then I licked my way up the side, following the long vein to the head. I used my lips, tongue, cheeks and teeth to ride his cock and amplify the experience for both of us.

Calvin's fingers burrowed into my locks as he bounced my head in his lap. He tried to play it cool and go slow at first, but i got him pumping my mouth good and hard, pulling me deeper onto his cock by my hair. I gagged hard, but threw myself face-down for more, clutching at his head with my throat muscles.

He let out a strangled curse. "Stand up," he commanded. I stood, shedding the dress, and he dropped his pants.

For a second we gazed on each other, naked for the first time. We were like some prototypical Adam and Eve. His eyes feasted on my round brown tits and plump thighs, and he walked me backward until I was against the wall. His basketball player's physique was a little intimidating, and so exciting.

Without a word he cradled me under my bum and hoisted me against the wall. I was perched halfway on the elevator rail, half against him. Working his dick like a joystick, he caught my hole and pushed in.

"Daaamn, you're so tight," he groaned as his thick dick split my channel and forced its way inside. I wasn't used to this much meat, and it hurt, but gravity didn't allow me to pull back at all.

When he finally stopped the long slide in, I was swinging from about nine inches of hard dick. I looked at him in wonder; he bared his teeth and ground against my cervix.

Each thrust bounced me up the wall; thumping deep into my stomach. I leaned back and used my arms to balance on the rail, winding my waist against his.

"Oooohhh, that's it, baby," Calvin hissed. "Show me what grown woman pussy is about."

I threw an extra twist in my hips that made him shout. "Can you handle it?" I taunted.

His face twitched as he fought for control. "Ride it hard as you like," he moaned. "I won't break."

He threw a solid shot up against my G-spot and I gasped, knocked off my rhythm for a second. A feral grin spread on his face; he'd found the sweet spot. He started jamming it mercilessly.

"Can you take it? Always teasing You wanted it... Now take it. Uh-uh!" he yelled sharply as I tried to back up, to get a little relief from the pressure in my womb. One hand closed around my neck as he fucked me harder.

"No way, you're taking all this dick tonight," he panted, pumping relentlessly. "You wanted it. I'm gonna fuck you till you cry."

I believed him when he pressed my thighs up on either side of the wall, rising on his toes each time he slammed home. I was pinned like a butterfly. Each time he pushed inside of me, my fattened clit scraped his groin. Our juices and smells were becoming one.

I pulled his long body to mine and he wrapped his arms around me. It felt like they encircled me twice as we humped hysterically. Our breath was sharp in each other's faces.