I pulled out the note from my pocket and looked at the address my colleague had jotted down. It turned out that I’m about twenty meters from the place. The building was old, with crumbling stucco walls and a richly graffitied entrance. It was obvious though that it had once looked beautiful and memorable, probably sixty or seventy years ago. The entrance door creaked pitifully as I pressed the handle. I was about to start climbing the stairs (I had to go to the fifth floor) when I noticed with surprise that there is a lift. It looked downright ancient. I opened the door and slid the scratchy grate aside.
In this moment I heard clicking of heels. The sound got louder and tiny needles began stabbing my eardrums. I held the door and looked back over my shoulder. A young woman was pacing swiftly toward the elevator. She was dressed in a light blue shortsleeved shirt and black above the knee skirt. She looked all business, obviously worked in some of the big offices nearby. I pushed the door wide open and the girl slid past me, entering the elevator. I smelled her perfume – delicate aroma of fresh flowers.
“Thanks,” she said with a gasp, then scanned the tight cell squeamishly.
“What floor?” I asked, pulling the wooden grate closed.
I pressed the worn button and the elevator sprang to life. It was moving slowly, jingling from time to time. Nostalgia overwhelmed me, I remembered the elevator of the building I lived in as a child. Back then I liked using it although our flat was on the second floor.
“Tomblike thing,” she said matter-of-factly and fixed her eyes on the ceiling.
“But it works, that’s important,” I answered. My gaze slid around her figure. She was 5’3’ tall, had nicely rounded forms and cute face. I doubted she weighed more than 110 pounds. Her long black hair spilled freely over her shoulders.
The elevator creaked , and then stopped between the fourth and the fifth floor. There was a strange humming sound. The girl’s eyes bulged and she dug her fingertips nervously into her small purse. Her chin shot up angrily. I mumbled, reaching out to press the button again.
“That tops it!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger, then leaned back on the wall and sighed.
The elevator trembled for a brief moment, then plunged down. I felt my body getting light as a feather. My feet took off the floor and everything before my eyes grew blurry. The girl was screaming; I saw her flailing her arms like a puppet. And then a monstrous hit ensued; parts of the torn boarding grazed my left cheek. I collapsed like a rock on the floor. The light died out, for a moment my consciousness died out too.
Shadows were dancing in the darkness. I felt sick, and my shoulder hurt. I stirred, but then realized that I’m lying on my side, and that I’m stuck. Something was pressing my left arm. I remembered that I’m not alone as I heard soft weeping, resembling animal’s whine. I didn’t see the girl, the darkness was absolute. Then my eyes managed to discern a vague light spot, probably her shirt.
“Are you OK?,” I asked. My voice had become hoarse and lisping.
The weeping stopped. She sniffed.
“Been better,” she muttered tremblingly and moaned. “Gosh, the lift fell!”
“It’s a miracle we survived,” I said and rose slightly.
“Wait, wait! Be careful, that’s my leg!” she squealed. It was not until then that I realized it was her leg pressing my arm. I got hold of the heel of her shoe, which had stabbed my shoulder. While I was drawing it carefully aside, my cheek brushed against her calf.
“I have never been stabbed with a shoe heel.”
“Sorry, I normally don’t flail my legs. Oh, it’s so tight here!
The fact that I had survived made me feel strange.
“No need for apologies. If you knew such thing would happen, you would have probably put on ballet shoes.”
“Of course,” she said, giggling.
“Are you scared?”
“The worst is behind us, I suppose. I feel strange though, due to the adrenaline maybe.
“It’s great to be alive. Are you in pain?”
“My ankle is a bit stiff, and it started aching a little,” she said. “You? Did I stab you badly?”
“No, just a cut.” I tried to change the subject. “I think we are in the basement. It’s time to call for help.”
“Yes, good idea.”
No one answered our cries, unbelievable as it is.
“We have to wait,” I said. My eyes still could not adjust to the darkness. I was seeing only the blurry contours of her shirt. I sat up and tried to stand on my feet. And hit my head hard in the broken boarding, which forced me to sit down again.
“What are you doing?”
“Do not try to stand up! You risk banging your head on something. The elevator is ruined, there are broken pieces everywhere.”
I felt her hands gliding over my face.
“And what are you doing?” I asked with an unnaturally calm voice.
“Examining you face. Your nose is slightly crooked, but otherwise your features are nice. Don’t move or I may gouge your eyes out by accident.”
I complied. I enjoyed the soft touches of her palms.
“It’s strange,” I said.
“What you are doing.”
“I haven’t done anything yet. I just examine you.”
“And what’s you conclusion?”
“I haven’t come to a conclusion yet. I have to check if you are potbellied first.”
“I’m not, but you can check if you want. It’s nice. Your hands are so soft…”
She checked. Her small hand even slipped under the belt of my jeans.
“Why!” she exclaimed. “Is the adrenaline doing this wonder?”
“I don’t know, but I liked you at first sight. You are extremely beautiful.”
“You have a sharp eye.”
I reached out cautiously and wrapped my arms around her waist. I buried my face in her firm springy breasts, my lips creeping up gingerly toward her neck. She grabbed my cock and started rubbing it slowly. My groin tingled with anticipation. I drew her closer and sucked her lips. Our tongues were dancing wildly.
All of a sudden she moaned and drew back. I have never felt my hands so empty.
“What? You want to run away from me?” I asked nervously.
“It’s not funny,” I imagined her full lips pouting.
“Why, the hell are you sorrying? Everything is great, but I simply can’t adjust my legs. This fucking place is so tight. Moreover… my ankle hurts terribly, and it’s swollen I think.”
“Let my see.”
A minute later her small foot rested in my lap. I touched it cautiously. The black stocking was torn in places and under the fine fabric I could feel cool skin. Her foot was gracefully arched, her heel soft and rounded. Her ankle though was hidden under a formless swelling. She gave out a squeal as I touched it. I thrust my fingers in the holes of the stocking and tore it with an abrupt motion.
“Why did you do that?”
“I have to bandage you ankle with something.”
“It looks like you know what you are doing.”
“Of course, stay put.”
I tore a strip from my shirt and started wrapping her ankle with it. She wiggled her tiny toes, brushing my groin.
“Don’t move. There is enough time for everything.”
“But if they find us before…”
“We have gone through a lot more scarier things.”
Her cordial laughter spilled around me. After I bandaged her ankle I moved my hands up her shapely calf. I reached her knee, and then continued up а silky path. She dragged herself closer, sat in my lap and fumbled with the fly of my jeans.
“Are your legs adjusted?” I asked.
“I think we could do it in this position, but you have to tear my panties first. There is no other way.
I took the task to heart. A couple of seconds later a flashlight flared above us and someone asked worriedly:
“Is there someone down there?”