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Message-ID: <49174asstr$1095160204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@blackhole.riot.eu.org>
Subject: {ASSM} Elevator Music (MF, rom) {Crimson Dragon} (new)
Lines: 612
Date: Tue, 14 Sep 2004 07:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----

I wrote "Elevator Music" a few days after the terrible events of
September 11th, 2001. As with most of you, I was profoundly shocked,
and I cannot express my ongoing grief of those images and horror. A
world ended that day, our innocence stripped.

I find solace in my writing. Seren helps me cope, and since I have
no other outlet, I wrote this story. It's a light story, but it
reinforces that not everything in the world is necessarily evil and
bad. Even unfortunate circumstances can be turned around. In this,
there is hope. I think that's what this story is about. Writing
helps me to cope, even when I have no hope of fully understanding
that which flows around me.

"Elevator Music" is a short that made me a touch happier at a dark
time. And even though it has little to do with the barbaric acts
that occurred three years ago, I could not release it at that time,
as I suspect everyone might understand.  However, I do release it
now, three years later, in the hopes that others may, too, enjoy the
musings, and find light where there is sometimes only darkness. My
deepest sympathies go out to those most affected by tragedy.

Please understand that this is a work of mildly erotic fiction.
There is nudity, sex, and elevators here. While I'm not sure this is
about sex, or about erotica, by any classic definition, if this may
offend you, or you are too young to read such things, please pass on
by. I won't be offended that you didn't read it.

Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely
coincidental. The people involved won't admit it, anyway.

This work is copyrighted in its entirety by Crimson Dragon.  Please
respect this, and do not redistribute it outside of my original
offerings via Usenet and my website(s). If you'd like to
redistribute the story, please write to me and ask. I don't bite.
Much.

Feedback, comments, rants or dissertations, can be forwarded to my
e-mail address that remains: dcrimson@yahoo.com.

If you are still with me, onwards to the story,
 - Crimson (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

This story, and others, are archived at:
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www
  http://members.tripod.com/files/Authors/Dr/wwwagon_Of_Crimson

Elevator Music:
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www/short_stories/stories/elevator.html

====================================================================

                            Elevator Music 
                               (MF, rom)

                           By Crimson Dragon 
                          (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

====================================================================

                      (c) Copyright September 2001
                             Crimson Dragon
                          All rights reserved

====================================================================

He kissed her once, gently, on the forehead, his fingers lightly
brushing her brunette bangs aside. She tilted her face upwards,
searching.

"Don't go," she whispered.

He smiled gently, giving her a tight squeeze.

"Only three weeks, Rachel. Three weeks. And I'll be back here.
Promise."

She forced a smile to her lips.

The loudspeaker above them barked emotionlessly: "Final boarding
call, Air Canada, Flight 17. Final boarding call."

She could have strangled the owner of that dispassionate, uncaring,
static-obscured voice.

He wiped the salty moisture from her cheeks, bending slightly to
kiss her on the lips. Then he released her, walking away firmly. He
waved moments before disappearing into the boarding tunnel.

She willed the tears to cease, and waved back. Her lips tingled
where they had met his, only moments before. Her fingers caressed
the tingle until the sensation faded.

"I'll miss you, Steve," she whispered.

                           <---===***===--->

These inconsiderate scum didn't care who they disturbed. What if
she'd been sleeping? Had an inconsolable baby, finally dropped off
to slumber? Or that she simply didn't feel like talking to a
stranger trying desperately to sell her windows, or carpet cleaning,
or newspapers, or lawn care.

The insistent ring of the telephone broke through her internal
diatribe, and she dropped the dishcloth onto the counter. The
infernal machine cried out across the kitchen, yet again.

Sighing, she glanced at the red numerals on the coffee maker. 1:34.
Middle of the afternoon. Nobody but a fucking telemarketer would
call her at this time of day.

Rachel fought with herself, but wasn't able to keep the edge of
anger from her voice. She silenced the telephone by lifting the
receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" Despite the anger, her voice remained soft; it only rang
harsh in her own ears.

Her anger melted, as she recognised the voice on the other end of
the line.

"In town? How?"

She listened intently for a moment, nodding, her eyes regaining some
of the lustre that they'd lost over the last week.

"Twenty minutes. I've missed you."

She dropped the phone onto the cradle with a clatter, and then
thinking twice, she picked it up again to call the taxi.

                           <---===***===--->

Rain lashed at the windshield of the yellow car as it pulled up
outside the tower. The wipers set up a regular cadence similar to a
metronome. Rachel glanced up through the raindrops, eyes searching
into the sea of glass and steel. He was up there somewhere -- the
eighteenth floor.

The turbaned driver accepted the handful of cash she passed over the
seat with a heartfelt "Thank-you, ma-am."

She knew that she'd overtipped him, but he'd driven like a maniac in
the rain so that she'd have a chance at arriving here before it was
too late.

She opened the door, her left foot sinking into a puddle.
Undeterred, she ran across the courtyard, between modern art statues
towards the building.

                           <---===***===--->

She pushed through the revolving doors. As the air conditioning
kissed her, she shivered, suddenly aware that she was soaked to the
skin, her hair plastered across her face. She brushed the wet
strands from in front of her eyes, finally looking up from the drips
littering the marble floor.

Steve stood there, biting a smile from his lips.

"Eighteen minutes. Not bad. I guess you really do miss me."

"Shut up." She aimed a weak punch at his arm that he avoided easily.

"Is that any way to greet a tired traveller?"

She stepped forward, an evil smile on her lips. She hugged him,
grinding her wet clothes into his suit. He protested for a moment,
then in resignation, wrapped his arms around her, giving her a
squeeze.

"I deserved that," he muttered.

She tilted her face until her breath would be warm against his ear.
"Even that isn't the way I would have preferred to greet you." She
kissed his neck.

Gently, he guided her from the doorway.

"I forgot my briefcase upstairs," he murmured.

"Forget it." She tugged on his hand, leading him towards the
concourse.

He stopped and smiled ruefully. "Twenty minutes for lunch with you,
and then the boss gets me for a couple of hours uptown. I'm sorry."
He worked his fingers free of hers and began to walk towards the
elevator banks. She only hesitated a moment, and then hurried to
catch up with him.

Water dripped from the hem of her dress as they waited for the
stainless steel doors to admit them.

                           <---===***===--->

Rachel screamed at the first jolt, nearly thrown from her feet.
Steve reached out to steady her. The second tremor was longer than
the first and the elevator halted its upward motion. They dropped,
her stomach sickeningly rising into her throat. She tried to scream
again. Couldn't.

And then the elevator stopped with a hiss. She stood there waiting,
holding her breath until it hurt.

"S-steve?"

Suddenly, he was there, close, his hand holding hers.

Her final scream echoed through the mirrored room as the lights
plunged into darkness deep enough to touch. But his hand was still
there, reassuring, and close.

"W-what happened," Rachel whispered, as though afraid the slightest
movement of air might cause the elevator to plunge down the shaft.

"I don't know. Don't move," Steve whispered back.

After a moment, the wan light of emergency halogens illuminated the
couple. She glanced towards the opposite mirror. Two haggard people
stared back at her, hand in hand, the girl resembling a drowned rat,
the man in a slightly rumpled blue suit.

"Steve?"

"Rachel."

"Are we still alive?"

"I think so."

She stifled another scream as a disembodied female voice crackled
out of an unseen and tinny speaker.

"This is security. Anyone in there?"

Rachel found her voice first.

"What happened?"

The disembodied voice continued. "Are you the only person there?
Are you all right?"

Rachel continued, barely raising her voice above a whisper.

"No. My husband is here with me, too. We're fine. For now. What
happened?"

The girl's voice sounded like the voice of God, to Rachel.

"Your elevator, and the one next to it, lost power. We're
investigating. Nobody is in the other one. Did the car drop?"

Rachel felt like shouting at the girl, something about investigating
a lot faster. "The car dropped. And then there was a hiss."

"That's normal," the girl said.

"NORMAL?"

"The power goes, and the retaining locks engage. Or at least that's
what's supposed to happen. The elevator should have only dropped a
floor or so at most."

"C-can we move?"

The girl laughed lightly. "We've called the fire department and we
should have you out of there shortly. The elevator is trapped
between the 15th and 16th floors. You can move. It isn't going
anywhere for a while."

"Shit," Steve muttered. He moved towards the back of the elevator.
Rachel moved with him. The elevator seemed to sway slightly, but
didn't drop any further. He raised his voice. "How long?"

The girl hesitated. "Shouldn't be long. Maybe an hour or two?"

Steve cursed again. Rachel fought back tears, but was determined not
to fall apart. Elevators got stuck all the time, didn't they? Hell,
she'd been on ... um ... none that she could recall that had ever
moved in anything but a smooth motion -- up or down.

Rachel settled herself into a corner of the small room, her back
pressed up against mirrors. Her fingers still joined with Steve's.

"I'm Rachel, and he's Steve."

"Sorry we have to meet like this," the voice spoke from the ceiling.
"I'm Suzanne."

                           <---===***===--->

Rachel twirled a lock of brunette hair around her little finger. The
hair was still wet from the rain outside, but she didn't mind
overly. The elevator was warm and cosy. Steve sat on the marble
tile, glancing every so often at his watch and sighing. She drew her
knees up to her chest and hugged herself.

She idly kicked off her shoes, wiggling her bare toes. Staring at
her feet, her face illuminated.

"Suzanne? Are you still there?"

Suzanne's voice issued forth. "I'm still here. The fire department
arrived a few minutes ago."

"Can you turn off your speaker?"

Her understanding voice came back in the affirmative.

"Sure. Just press the alarm button if you want me."

Rachel raised her face to look at Steve. After a moment, his eyes
met hers. She smiled.

                           <---===***===--->

Her body had heated the film of water, similar to the way a 
wetsuit works. As the dress lifted over her head, her bare skin
immediately jumped into gooseflesh. The tiny bumps ridged the
tops of her breasts, and continued down across her upper arms
and thighs.

The dress dropped with a plop of wet fabric to the marble.
The marble was warm beneath her feet. Lost, she watched herself
in the mirrors as her fingers released the clasp between her
breasts. The damp lacy cups joined the dress at her feet.
Her panties slid sensuously down her legs. Like a feline,
she stepped from the undergarments pooled at her ankles
and moved to an unheard beat.

"What are you dancing for?" he asked from his position
on the floor. His eyes never left her nudity. She looked at 
him strangely, as though she hadn't realised that she wasn't 
alone, naked and moving amongst her own images.

With a grin, she replied.

"Elevator music."

                           <---===***===--->

The dim emergency lighting reflected from her soft curves.

She knelt, her knees uncomfortable on the marble floor. She
released the button of his jacket. Playfully, she tugged his shirt
from his waistband. Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt clasps
from the button. The last two, she leaned forward to unclasp with
her teeth.

Her breath rebounded warm and inviting from his bare chest,
reassuring before she kissed him. She tilted up her face, caressing
his lips, tongue searching.

Her nipples ached, her clitoris throbbing.

An elevator.

She leaned back, her thighs resting easily on her heels.

His lips shone ruby red in the dim light, his breathing shallow. He
wore an expression of confusion and wonder.

In response to his unasked question, she replied.

"Haven't you ever gone down in an elevator?"

                           <---===***===--->

Occasionally, she had thought the stuck compartment was in danger of
falling further. When their rescuer, Suzanne, had said they could
move about in the car, she doubted if the poor girl had guessed at
the resulting fanfare. Or maybe she had. She had switched off the
communication without much of a fight.

Rachel rocked upwards again, sighing as she was penetrated yet again
on the downstroke. It was everything she could do to hold back the
next climax.

Slowly, she allowed Steve to push her to the marble, her back
finding the tile as cool as her feet had found it warm. The
gooseflesh had long disappeared.

Her legs, of their own accord, slipped apart.

She stifled a cry as his tongue found her.

Holding back the climax wasn't going to work this time.

She moaned, calling out Steve's name, her voice rebounding from the
mirrors.


                           <---===***===--->

Was that steam adorning the mirrors?

She squinted.

She hadn't steamed up glass since Snakey Hill, the local lover's
lane, when she was sixteen. And it hadn't been Steve that time, had
it?

Surely an illusion.

She settled back into Steve's arms.

Afterwards, he had dressed, as though shy. She supposed it must be
the surroundings -- it wasn't every day that she made love to him in
an elevator. For her, she was far more comfortable with her sopping
dress crumpled on the other side of the floor, her bra and panties
standing sentinel nearby, her shoes watching the proceedings
quietly. She wasn't warm, but wasn't cold either. The scent of sex
and abandon surrounded them. Rachel idly hoped that the muskiness
would dissipate before the fire fighters crashed into their party --
not so much for her, as concern for Steve's comfort.

He wrapped his arms around her, fingers clasped under and between
her bare breasts, holding her lightly.

She curled up, lying her head back against his chest. His eyes
found hers in the mirror opposite. She smiled, and gratified,
received his answering smile.

She shivered slightly, her nudity contrasting against his suit. It
would make a nice picture, she thought idly before closing her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

                           <---===***===--->

She awoke with the crackle of static. Steve had jumped at the sound,
and disturbed her position. Rachel reached for the blanket, murmured
something incoherent. After a moment, her fingers stopped searching
for the comforter that didn't exist. The tinny female voice
returned, more insistent.

"Rachel? Steve? Are you two all right?"

Rachel could hear a banging noise overhead, like a hammer trying to
punch through the ceiling. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her image
stared back at her, bare breasts bouncing gently as she moved. Steve
groaned behind her.

"We're fine, Suzanne. Just asleep."

Suzanne sounded more relaxed as she replied.

"You better get up. They say it'll be a matter of minutes. Hear the
banging?"

Suzanne looked up. The banging stopped for a moment above her, but
then continued.

Realising that she was still naked, she scuttled across the marble.
She could hear the rescuers trying to lift the elevator hatch above,
a pinprick of light filtering down as it rose.

She picked up her dress, swallowing heavily.

"Three and a half hours," Steve muttered as he climbed to his feet.
He stretched.

Please no, Rachel thought as she shook out the black fabric of her
dress. She didn't mind that much if the fire personnel saw her
nudity -- she wasn't particularly shy, but she really didn't want to
put the wet dress back on.

The light above was accompanied by dust motes swirling through the
air. A feminine voice called out from on top of the car.

"Rachel? Steve? You two still okay in there? We'll have you out in a
few minutes."

Rachel grimaced, held her breath, and nearly screamed as the cold
wet fabric slipped over her head. Forcing herself, she insisted her
fingers tug the evil cloth down over her bare breasts to hug her
thighs. She stood shivering as the dress embraced her, but at least
she was clothed.

She bent to pick up her underwear, moving over to Steve and slipping
them into his pants pockets where the white material bulged
slightly. She looked up quickly enough to see a friendly face appear
in the void that was the ceiling.

"Hey there, you two. Sorry we're late. How is everyone doing?" a
younger girl asked, a fire helmet adorning her head.

"Wet, hungry, cold and needing a bathroom." Rachel smiled in spite
of herself.

                           <---===***===--->

"Couldn't have had a better meeting, Rache," Steve murmured.

She shook her head.

"It was nice, I'll give you that."

"Suzanne knew, you know."

"She what?"

"She winked at me when she introduced herself."

"Was it too much to hug her?"

"Maybe, in that wet dress."

"She didn't mind."

"No, I don't think she did," Steve muttered.

A static-obscured voice issued forth above the embracing couple.

She could have strangled the owner of that dispassionate, uncaring,
crackling voice.

"Final boarding call for Air Canada Flight 55 to Vancouver. Final
boarding call."

Steve looked at Rachel.

"Only another week and a half."

"No more surprise lunches in elevators?"

He shook his head.

"I'll miss you," she murmured as she kissed him.

He gave her one quick squeeze and then walked back towards the
boarding tunnel.

She willed the tears to cease, and waved back. Her lips tingled
where they had met his only moments before. Her fingers caressed
the tingle until the sensation faded.

====================================================================

Epilogue

====================================================================

He settled with a sigh onto the standard bed. The generic clock
radio stared at him. 10:24 flipped to 10:25 as he watched. A strange
bed. A strange clock. A strange room.

He was exhausted after the flight, and the hotel was clean.

A strange bulge caught his attention as he slipped off his suit
pants. In amongst the blue, flashes of white. Lacy.

He smiled as he tugged her undergarments into view. Laying them on
the bedspread, he smiled.

He picked up the phone.

                           <---===***===--->

Her hair dripped onto her shoulders, her bare breasts covered in
mounds of bubbles that smelled vaguely of peaches. Her image
reflected back at her from the mirror across from the tub. She
ached, and was probably bruised from her play in the small stuck
elevator car. But she wouldn't have traded that time for anything in
the world right now.

She smiled at the memories.

She lay her head back, her fingers lightly caressing her thighs
under the water. She missed him.

She opened her eyes when the phone interrupted her visions.

"Damn telemarketers," she murmured. She ignored the ringing, letting
her fingers trace across the sensitive flesh of her erect nipples.
Though she was satiated, many times, after Steve, her body whispered
insistent and close. She sighed. Eventually, the ringing stopped.

She lay her head back again, savouring the caresses of the water.

The phone began to ring again.

                           <---===***===--->

Wrapped in a crimson towel, Rachel lifted the receiver.

"Hello?" Even in anger, her voice was soft and sultry.

She listened for a moment, a smile radiating from her lips. At last,
she spoke again, this time her voice devoid of resentment at an
interrupted reprise.

"I will. And I miss you, too."

She dropped the towel in a red heap near the phone. Her bare feet
left wet footprints across the floor as she returned to her peach
bubbles.


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