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Elevator
By
LikeJagger

Elevator

A devious young executive blackmails an older woman.
Karen glanced at the clock, frowned, and realized she had probably missed the Director of Accounting by fifteen minutes. It was 6:45 in the evening, she was hungry and stressed, and this folder of papers was promised to be on his desk before he left the building. She picked up her phone and dialed the extension of his assistant. Three rings ... four ... voice mail. There was no one there. She pushed the handset hard into the plastic cradle in frustration, slid her feet back into her high-heeled shoes beneath the broad oak desk and pushed up from her tall, black leather seat.

She took the manila folder of documents and smoothed a hand down the front of her jacket, checking herself for rice cake crumbs. Seeing none, she buttoned up, reassured she was in good enough condition to visit with the high brass.

She strode down the hall toward the elevators, past the many empty desks of those who were fortunate enough to get to leave at 5:00 every evening. Behind her, an intern working late leaned out of his cubicle to appreciate her womanly form and perfectly turned legs, wrapped in black, seamed nylon stockings as they carried her down the hall and through the glass doors to the foyer and elevators. He whistled low to himself; she usually wore slacks to work but on the uncommon days she wore those knee-length skirts, he could never repress his urge to admire her.

Karen's mind wandered to her husband, probably home by now with the kids, with pizza in the oven no doubt. Weeks like this were always gladly received by the children who loved nothing more than pizza and Doritos for dinner. But as this week was Convention Week, everyone at the company was needed to burn extra fuel and get their jobs done so that their annual convention would come off without a hitch and make everyone look good. That meant Doritos and pizza for a while at home. And late nights downtown, 45 minutes from her house and family, which had once been a source of excitement for her. Pure, lusty, illicit, wrong excitement.

She shivered when she remembered those nights she could have returned home at seven, but lied to stay for additional hours while she and Grant would lock themselves in his office, close the blinds and fuck passionately on his desk, desperately holding their moans and cries to barely contained whimpers and whispers of ecstasy. Neither of them had any illusions that she would leave her husband, or he, his wife. It was torrid, it was primal... it was so wrong. But oh, the sex.

She closed her eyes a moment as the feelings returned to her, like a warm wave passing through her. She let herself indulge in the memory of him, his eyes, his smell, the taste of his skin, the way he rabidly devoured her sex with his lips and tongue, the way he couldn't bear to keep from slamming his thick cock into her as soon as the blinds were shut. For four months they danced on a razor's edge of danger, until they'd finally had one close call too many and mutually agreed to call off the affair. Karen was ready for it to be over by that point; the guilt and anxiety, the subtle panic that ran through her every time her husband's name appeared on her ringing phone... she had had enough.

The elevator gave a soft chime as it swooped down and stopped behind the twin golden doors. As they parted, she saw the young face of Miranda Fuller. Twenty-six year-old Miranda was the daughter of CEO Gordon Fuller, the multi-millionaire patriarch of the company and icon of the industry (having been featured on the cover of Forbes no less than three times in the course of his career). Miranda, a small, compact woman with bright, conniving brown eyes and a short black bob cut, was the very definition of corporate nepotism. One of the youngest people to reach the third tier of executive management, Miranda was in charge of their enterprise computer systems, in spite of her total lack of management acumen.

No one could argue the woman was brilliant; conversant in three languages, MBA, national honour societies... she even regularly penned articles for trade publications, her coquettish portrait too irresistible to refuse in an industry dominated by overweight men. She understood complex computer systems, that was unquestionable. But where her I.T. skills were strong, her executive skills were at times disastrous, forcing her subordinates to clean up her mess on a regular basis and nurture deep, unspoken resentment toward her. But as the messes would be made, so too would the cover-ups come. Miranda was learning to be a manipulative, cynical woman, using her physical beauty and charm to coax any of the men in her employment—and others, as needed—to keep her in the best light, out of blame's way.

Karen feigned a smile to the young woman as she boarded the elevator, holding her manila folder to her chest. "Evening Miranda," she said, pressing the button marked 32. The glass ring around the quarter-sized circle glowed a golden hue.

Miranda gave Karen a somewhat puzzling smile. "Hello Mrs. Brinks," she replied smoothly, knowingly. She knew she could get away with calling anyone in the company by their first names, but she often patronized them by starting with the proper honorific, then using their first name when she needed to assert social dominance. As Karen turned back, she caught the young woman's sweeping gaze over her body and felt a subtle, barely conscious unease at being contained in this small box with the devious young woman, as the doors slid closed.

She tried to lighten the mood of the car with small talk. "Working late?" she asked.

Miranda gave a soft "Mmmm," which Karen took as dismissive. But something about the way the younger woman was looking at her made her nervous. The numbers above the console of buttons steadily climbed as the elevator car smoothly ascended its column toward the summit of the building.

The ascent came to an abrupt halt with a sudden lurch, and the two women were suddenly enveloped in darkness. They each gave a surprised gasp, seizing the brass handrail to steady themselves. Karen lost her grip on the manila folder and documents scattered to the floor. She gave a frustrated groan as she realized what was happening. A few moments later, a low light clicked on and the elevator car was bathed in low, yellow light from the battery-powered emergency lamp.

"Oh great!" Miranda exclaimed angrily, looking up at the lamp that had come on. "What the hell is this?"

Karen sighed and bent down to begin reassembling the papers into her folder. "Guess we didn't pay our light bill this month," she answered dryly. She prayed it would only be a momentary interruption of power. She didn't think to bring her phone with her; it was still on her desk.

Miranda made no move to help Karen. She instead leaned against the wall and let her eyes devour the succulent curves of the older woman's body as she folded herself to pick up the mess. Capturing her lower lip between her teeth, her lips curled into an appreciative smile as she subtlety moved her heel to pinch one of the pages to the floor before Karen could reach for it. When she did, Miranda did not lift her foot, but held the page to the ground, forcing Karen to look up at her from her crouched position.

Karen's eyes couldn't help but travel slowly. The young woman was a fit, well-proportioned specimen wearing a sharp Donna Karan navy suit that stopped a full two inches above the knee, with dark blue stockings enveloping her toned, strong and shapely legs. Karen realized Miranda had more than likely been a cheerleader when she was in high school, by the fitness of her legs and the social status she could never have done without.

Her eyes continued up Miranda's body until they met hers. Miranda gave a sly wink. "You look hot like that, Mrs. Brinks," she purred. It was a shockingly harassing thing to say, and Karen's eyes widened, her jaw going slack.

"Excuse me?" She could barely believe her own ears.

"Oh nothing," Miranda giggled. "Just teasing you." She lifted her foot and released the paper. She smiled as she saw Karen's face darken in the golden light with embarrassment and confusion. Surely the lovely older woman could never have expected to be flirted with in a situation such as this. But Miranda's appetite had moved beyond seducing her father's golfing friends, and "securing" ridiculously low bids from certain preferred vendors (based on clandestine rendezvous in neighbouring towns' premier hotels, with the promises of future such encounters if contracts were signed). She was bored with cheating husbands and drooling frat-boy interns. Now she wanted to see if she could seduce a woman. A woman in the company. Starting with the most alluring one she knew. Karen Brinks.

Karen snatched the remaining papers from the floor and quickly righted herself again, stuffing them into the folder. The light was too low to try to sort them; it would have to wait until the power came back. She frowned, jarred by the young woman's playful tease.

Miranda enjoyed watching Karen recover her composure, her eyes occasionally glancing to the lovely curves of her calves, brazenly leering. She gave a soft giggle. "Sorry," she offered. "I just can't help that you're so gorgeous. And I haven't been with a woman in so long."

Karen was again struck by the sheer cheek of the CEO's daughter, making comments that could get a man officially reprimanded, quite easily. Sexual harassment was nothing this company took lightly, but here was princess Miranda Fuller acting like... well, acting like the boss' daughter. Karen shot her a look. "That's a little personal for my comfort, Miss Fuller."

Miranda ran her fingers behind her ear, bringing her hair back to show more of her face. She was leaning back against the handrail and crossing her ankles in front of her, very aware of the presentation she was making of her legs. "I bet you'd like being with a girl. Ever done it before?"

"I'm not interested in this topic of conversation, Miss Fuller," Karen said pointedly, emphasizing the name.

"Oh that's too bad... you know there's not a woman in this building who hasn't fantasized about you."

Karen gaped, stunned. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Miss Fuller, are you coming on to me?"

Miranda giggled. "Of course not Mrs. Brinks. I know you're married. I'm just saying, you're gorgeous and everyone here wants you. That's all."

"That's good. I'd hate to have to make an official complaint to the effect that I've been sexually harassed."

Miranda's eyes widened in mock fear. "Oh, that would be terrible, please don't do that. I promise I'll be a good little girl."

Karen frowned at her and leaned against the wall, trying to read her watch in the dim light. "Fuck," she muttered to herself under her breath.

"What?" Miranda chirped. "What did you say you wanted to do?"

"Miss Fuller, you need to knock it off. It's not particularly funny. Maybe the boys think so, but I'm not in the mood." She shot Miranda a look over the rim of her glasses.

Miranda's eyes sparkled as she pushed off the handrail, moving closer to her prey. "Yet."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not in the mood... yet, Mrs. Brinks. But I can fix that."

Karen was not only stunned that Miranda would say such a brazenly actionable thing, but that the younger woman was now drawing closer with dangerous eyes. "Are you stupid? Are you trying to get yourself written up by HR?"

Miranda's gaze didn't waver. "I'm fucking Director Solomon, Mrs. Brinks. He won't lift a finger against me. And neither will you."

"Get away from me."

Miranda's smile broadened as she closed the distance and pinned Karen's body to the wall with her own, letting her hips fully collapse against hers. "Make me," she whispered hotly.

Karen glanced up to the glass dome in the corner of the car. "I'll have your job for this," she seethed. "The security footage from the camera shows incontestable harassment, boss' daughter or not. Get off of me this instant or I'll throw the fucking book at you."

"That camera isn't recording, because the power is out, Mrs. Brinks. Battery lights only."

Karen lunged for the hatch covering the emergency phone, but Miranda seized her and forced her lips to hers, taking Karen's face in her hands. The smaller woman was quite strong for her size, and she pinned the older woman's body to the wall hard. Karen struggled to turn her face away from the forced kiss, making desperate, panicked sounds, trying to push Miranda away. Finally she managed to break loose of the kiss and lunge for the emergency phone, but what Miranda said next made her blood run cold and her face turn ashen.

"I know about you and Grant!" Miranda stabbed, playing her ace-in-the-hole.

Karen froze. These rapier words shook her to the core. Her vision narrowed and she felt a sickening swoon come over her. Her heart pounded in her ears. It can't be true. it can't be! How could she know? she pleaded to herself. In an uneven voice, she replied, "Grant who?"

But her body's visceral response was all the confirmation Miranda needed, and she twisted the knife. "Grant Parrone, in retail ops. Go ahead. I dare you to deny it." Miranda was looking her dead in the eyes.

Karen trembled; her vision clouded. She fought to replace panic with anger. "I don't know what you think you know, little girl, but if you don't let me go this instant, I'll not only have your job, but I'll sue you for threatening to extort me!"

The thin smile told Karen her threat wasn't going to work. "You won't do that, Mrs. Brinks," Miranda replied, deliberately drawing out the "Mrs." to drive her point home. "Because if you do, I will be forced to trot out the photographs, and the recording that I have of both of you on the night of April 17th, about 8:30 in the evening, when I just happened to leave my voice recorder on the bookcase in his office. And, oh yeah, it was set to 'voice-activated'. It recorded nearly 40 minutes." She waited and watched Karen's face change as she remembered the exact date of one of their more heated encounters.

"Mmmm, yes, you remember, don't you Mrs. Brinks? You get the cutest little squeak in your voice when you orgasm, don't you? And Grant ... mmmm, what a delicious man to throw away your marriage vows for, I must agree. I just loved how he would do that—" she inhaled breathily, mimicking the very sound Grant made when he climaxed. It was a sound only someone who'd been with him would know. And she knew how she sounded when she herself came. Her voice climbed, and when she fought to restrain her peals of ecstasy, they emerged as soft chirps of pleasure.

Karen's fight dissipated as she stared, cornered, quite literally. "What do you want, Miranda?" she demanded in a low tone.

Miranda's eyes danced. "I want to fuck you, Kathy. I want to hear you make those little squeaks just for me."

"You can't do this!"

"I can do whatever I want, and right now I want to fuck you, and I want you to fuck me. It's very simple. We fuck, we have our fun, and then I give you the photos and the recordings and we pretend it never happened."

Karen glared into Miranda's confident gaze. She imagined the horror that would cross her husband's face if confronted with the truth of her infidelity. She knew he would leave her, and a bitter divorce would wreck her whole life. She'd been witness to the hell of divorce, the emotional trauma the children would be forced to endure, as one of her closest friends had to go through it a year past. The nightmare of her friend's ordeal hit home, and was one of the reasons she'd called off the affair with Grant. She had no idea anyone else could have known. But now the grave reality of her naiveté hung above her head like Damocles' sword revealed. She knew she could never call Miranda's hand. She had everything to lose ... Miranda risked nothing.

She set her jaw and turned her face away. "Get it over with," she said quietly.

Miranda took Karen's face in her hand and turned it back to face her, staring into the older woman's eyes victoriously as she leaned into capture her lips in a hard kiss. Karen tensed instinctively, pushing, jerking her head to try to slip away, but Miranda held her fast and forced her tongue into Karen's mouth. Karen whimpered in protest, but parted her mouth to allow the insistent wet tongue to explore her own. She glanced worriedly up at the glass orb in the corner covering the camera, wondering if anyone in the security booth was watching.

Miranda's hold on Karen relaxed as she realized she had won over her prey. Her kiss deepened and her hands slid up Karen's body, giving a low moan of arousal. Karen shifted her head to the side, allowing Miranda's kiss to penetrate deeper, and let her hands fall to her sides. The young woman's tongue was smaller and more delicate than her husband's, and she was surprised at how different it felt to be kissed by a woman than a man. Although she'd done the same drunk kissing and picture-taking as every other college girl, it was something she barely remembered and hardly thought of since. This was new to her, after nearly a decade of marriage, and her heartbeat thrummed in her chest to a different kind of energy.

She broke the kiss. "Miranda," she said breathily, "If I'm going to do this, do I have your word you'll give that recording, and those photographs you mentioned, to me, and never use them against me or my family?"

Miranda softened her tone. "Yes. I don't want to fuck with your life. I just want to have sex with you. After that, I'll give everything to you. I won't even tell Grant. I don't even really care. What happens in this elevator stays in this elevator. I swear."

"And if the power comes back on?" Karen hedged. "The camera will come on too."

"Not until they restart the system from the security booth. It will take a few minutes for them to boot their recording software. That means if the lights come back on, we'll have a few moments to get dressed." Miranda concocted this fabrication smoothly and easily. Whereas a decade earlier it might have been true, she knew that newer systems had been installed since then to keep power going to security systems in the event of an outage.

Karen glanced again at the glass dome, then looked back to Miranda and answered just above a whisper. "Okay. But if the lights come on, we have to stop." She was trembling.

"We will. Don't worry."

"Okay."

Karen placed the folder of documents on the floor, rose and slid her arms around the young girl, drawing closer to kiss her. Miranda canted her head and let her lips close over Karen's, giving a soft sigh as she relished the pleasure of her conquest, her hands again exploring the body of the woman she'd just won. She inhaled deeply through her nose, taking in the flavours of Karen's hair, perfume, and makeup. The bouquet of femininity lighted her senses like an accelerant, and she felt the warmth collecting between her legs. She ached to feel Karen Brink's mouth and tongue licking it out of her, and send her home to hubby, making her look into his eyes knowing she'd tasted another woman's cunt.

The kiss grew fiery and passionate. Karen wanted only to satiate the young company princess, preferably before the lights came back, as that would only mean they would have to temporarily postpone their sex rather than resolve it here and now. She too could taste the scents and flavours of Miranda's cosmetics and perfume, and it had a strangely exciting affect on her; perhaps her being a woman, and the extramarital sex, were illicit pleasures awakening within her that she wasn't conscious of before. Grant had been a magnificent lover, but she knew that part of the pleasure of being with him was the wrongness of it, the danger inherent, the risk of being caught - although with Grant it was a different danger, a danger they shared to be together. Kissing Miranda was like playing with the very thing that could destroy her, at any moment.

Not playing with her, Karen knew at this point, would be the greater risk. So she concentrated on returning the kiss with as much passion as she could muster.

She felt a pang of discomfort when she felt Miranda's little hand undoing the buttons on her blazer, and push her hands beneath the shoulders. Karen straightened her arms and pushed off the wall enough to let the jacket slip down her arms to the floor, revealing her white silk camisole. Miranda's fingers played over her breasts, delicate, soft... so unlike her husband's thick and insistent hands. Karen felt a sound emerge from her throat and could not tell if it was one of protest, fear, or surprise and arousal. The emotions were tumbling together so quickly within her, it was difficult to discern just what she was feeling. Her knees were weakening and she felt her body responding to the young woman's desire, her sex throbbing as it awakened.

Miranda's fingers pinched at Karen's nipples beneath the cami, and they dutifully swelled into taut little buds. Karen's breaths came more heavily as she struggled to contain her body's arousal, her nipples tightening and tingling beneath the pinch of Miranda's forefinger and thumb. The kiss came apart and the women's eyes met... Miranda's lustful gaze met Karen's reluctant, nervous one.

"Take off your top for me," Miranda commanded, softly.

Karen's trembling was noticeable. She realized there now was no going back; the line was behind her. She slowly found the hem of her camisole with shaky fingers, and pulled it slowly up her body, revealing her breasts to the warm, stagnant air of the stranded elevator. Lifting the garment over her head, she turned her head away and blushed hard, letting it fall to the floor and feeling the ardent stare travelling over her nakedness. Miranda gave a low groan, and leaned down to capture one of Karen's vulnerable breasts in her mouth.

"Ohhh!" Karen breathed, the sudden rush of sensation cascading through her from the tiny, warm mouth that enveloped the peak of her C-cup breasts. Miranda's hands each took one and fondled gently, as she pressed her teeth down over the clenched, sensitive nipple. Karen inhaled deeply and gave a soft whimper of disbelief .. both that this was even happening to her, and that it felt as good as it actually, unexpectedly, did.

Miranda feasted on her prey's breasts, alternating back and forth, her hands gently kneading, fondling, savouring. She suckled and licked, feeling the arousal heightening in Karen's body the longer she remained. She gave deep, low groans as she imagined sitting across from Karen at senior staff meetings, or passing her in the hallway, and remembering that she had personally tasted the beautiful woman's tits, and made her moan in pleasure. This was an experience she wanted to keep fresh in her mind for a long time to come.

Again Karen's knees threatened to fail her, and she parted her legs wider to keep herself up against the wall. She opened her eyes again and stared up at the little glass dome, not knowing for certain if there was someone staring back at her coming undone under the younger woman's lust. She couldn't take her eyes away, even as she felt Miranda's hands sliding down to her skirt, finding the concealed zip at her hip with her fingers, and sliding the silk sheath down her legs. Karen swallowed and lifted her leg to step out, then the other, and Miranda dropped the skirt over the rest of Karen's discarded suit, leaving her only in her black thigh-high stockings and panties.

Miranda purred to herself as she lowered herself to a crouch, and nudged Karen's legs apart wide. Karen leaned back against the elevator wall and obeyed, widening her stance, then again further as Miranda again nudged them, wanting even more access. Karen felt more vulnerable now than she ever had before, nearly naked, fully exposed, unsure if the camera was on or if she could trust the cruelly manipulative creature now poised between her legs, feasting her eyes on the mound of warm, moistening flesh beneath the lacy black panty.

She felt the betrayal in her heart as warm lips enveloped her mound, and a soft but hungry tongue began nuzzling into the fabric protecting her womanhood. Her head rolled to the side and she moaned lightly, thoughts of her husband at home passing through her mind, this time stirring a deep and troubling guilt. She never wanted to have to lie to him again, and now here she was, her body in the arms of another. The fact that it was blackmail was of little comfort, given how much pleasure she was struggling to control.

Miranda's little fingers slid up her thigh and curled around the rim of the panty's crotch, and slowly pulled it aside, revealing the goal of her machination, the treasure she sought to plunder. Karen's eyes glanced down, feeling the exposure, and her vulnerability filled her eyes from behind her glasses as she stared at her boss' daughter, now free to ravish her in the most intimate ways. Miranda felt the eyes on her and glanced up to return the look, fully aware of the power she held. As she kept her eyes fixed on her prey's, she leaned in and with the tip of her tongue, lightly caressed the puffy, velvety petals.

Karen drew a hard breath and struggled to keep from moaning aloud. The sensation of watching Miranda Fuller, crouched between her legs and staring hungrily, resolutely, up at her as she tongued her labia, was a mixture of trepidation and an almost insurmountable ache to surrender to the pleasure. Never before had another woman put her mouth there. It made her feel illicit, dirty, adulterous ... and wonderful. She rolled her head back again and this time gave a sigh of pleasure, and with the most subtle of movements, shifted her hips forward in the younger woman's kiss.

Miranda felt the movement, heard the sound, and felt the victory firing her desire. She pulled harder at the nylon fabric in her fingers, exposing more of Karen's body. Her tongue eagerly split the puffy, swollen petals and lapped upward, drawing in the nectar, tasting it, then lapped again, and again. She groaned, drinking the succulent, rich, forbidden honey, feeling her own body ache to be touched and tongued. She knew there were men (and probably more than a few women) who fantasized, even coveted, the flavours and sensations she was enjoying now. Karen Brinks was desired by many, but above everyone's reach. Everyone else's reach. Tonight, the ravishing Mrs. Brinks belonged to no one else, not even her own husband. She belonged to Miranda.

Her tongue began flicking over Karen's hooded button, lightly. Karen again rocked her hips forward, the sparkles of pleasure that glittered through her like electricity coaxing another, deeper moan from her parted lips. She heard the sound she made and couldn't believe she herself had made it. It sounded like a woman lost in ecstasy, almost out of control. Could she actually be feeling so much pleasure? The butterflies in her stomach became tremors of pleasure, her fear steadily and quickly becoming consumed by her arousal. She would worry about her betrayal, the threat of her affair's exposure, the unknown status of the camera, all of it later. All that mattered now was the pleasure coursing through her from the young woman's tongue ravishing her.

Even the pleasure of the spritely, exquisitely feminine tongue on her clitoris was overcome by a new sensation: that of two slender fingertips suddenly nuzzling up against her opening, worming their way inside and opening her as they slid inside. She gasped loudly and clutched the bar behind her, her chest heaving as Miranda's fingers penetrated her sex and buried themselves within her.

"Oh god," she breathed huskily, and having steadied herself, lifted one hand to slide up the side of her face, feeling the heat of her blush beneath her own skin, her fingers running into her hair. Miranda twisted her wrist, letting her fingers explore Karen's inner warmth. She glanced up and teased, "Do you like that, Karen? Do you like my fingers being inside you?"

"Oh... I... Miranda..."

"Tell me ... tell me you like my fingers in you." She gently began bicycling her fingertips against her upper wall. Karen again gave a breathless moan, a sound that curled Miranda's toes with desire.

"Yes," Karen finally surrendered. "Yes... I do."

"You do what?"

"Like your fingers inside me."

"Tell me you want me to fuck you, Mrs. Brinks," Miranda ordered in her most velvety voice.

Karen stared down at her, eyes pleading. "I ... I ... "

Miranda continued gently pedaling her fingertips against Karen's upper wall within, occasionally letting the tip of her fingernail drag into the soft, warm flesh. "Come on," she coaxed. "I want to hear you say it so badly, Karen. Say it for me."

Karen's face turned a deep crimson as she closed her eyes and turned her head away. In a soft voice, she relented, "I want you to fuck me, Miranda."

The words hung in the air like a prayer. They echoed through both women's ears, an utterance that could not be taken back or ignored. Miranda swallowed, nearly swooning from the nigh-dizzying effect the erotic words had on her. Barely breathing, she pressed her advantage. "Say it again."

Defeated by her own body's raging desire, Karen repeated, "I want you to fuck me," her voice cracking before she could finish the sentence. She felt hot tears of shame stinging in her eyes, threatening to humiliate her even further. "Fuck me... Miss Fuller."

Miranda nearly gasped at the unexpected coda, and eagerly complied, slipping her fingers nearly out completely and then plunging them back inside Karen's throbbing vagina. She felt Karen's muscles bearing down, clutching at her fingers as they impaled her. Karen gave a breathless moan, her hips coming unglued, rolling and undulating lustfully with each deep thrust of Miranda's fingers into her. Wide-eyed, Miranda couldn't help but stare at the exquisite eroticism of the woman before her, so desperately lost in the rapture of being fucked by another woman's fingers. Karen's head turned back and forth, her body moving fluidly, one hand clutching the grab bar behind her, her other hand balled in a fist in her own hair as she writhed.

Faster went the slender fingers, quickly becoming coated with Karen's rich, syrupy nectar. The younger woman again leaned in and began frantically tonguing Karen's clit, sending another torrent of ecstasy storming through her body. An uncontrolled moan burst from Karen's throat, at a volume easily heard by anyone standing outside the elevator doors, but she couldn't think past the currents of pleasure now dominating her senses. The fingers plunging in and out of her, the tongue flicking and suckling at her little pearl, the illicitness, the danger, the threat of being watched, all poured through her in one profound cocktail of ecstasy like nothing she'd ever felt. Her moans climbed, becoming stifled cries. She was writhing helplessly against the elevator wall as her orgasm gathered within her.

Miranda wanted desperately to reach between her legs and touch herself, but bid herself to be patient. First things were first. She drew her fingers out of Karen's sex just long enough to fold a third in with them, arranging the tips in a little triangle and sliding the new triplet into Karen's quivering sheath.

Karen again gave a barely contained cry as she felt herself being opened even more by the increased girth of Miranda's invading fingers, and tightened her fist in her hair, as she did whenever a self-induced orgasm threatened to break. She opened her eyes, staring hazily at the little dome in the corner, and again wondered if ... but another tremor of ecstasy spilled through her and pushed the thought away. Miranda's relentless tongue dodged and fluttered over her clitoris, her fingers fucking her with strong, fluid strokes. She drew a breath just as the waves crested within her. The exhalation fixed in her throat as they carried her violently away.

Karen Brinks tensed every muscle in her body and shuddered wildly against the elevator wall, causing the car itself to heave in its support lines. Her orgasm shattered her, sending her into transports of intense ecstasy like she'd never known ... not with her husband, not with Grant. Even the young woman between her legs was taken aback by the severity of the climax that was consuming her, scorching her within. The lock in her throat gave just enough for Karen's orgasm to be released as soft, light chirps as she convulsed against the elevator wall, like a baby bird pleading for sustenance, her head thrown back in oblivious euphoria, lips parted in bliss.

The waves and aftershocks finally receded, and Karen panted hard, releasing the grip in her hair and steadying herself on the handrail. Miranda stared up at her in amazement, victorious. She pressed her lips to Karen's sex once more and carefully replaced the crotch of her panty over it. "Mmmm, Mrs. Brinks, that was ... you were ... just magnificent."

Without warning, the elevator's lights snapped on and a loud whirr could be heard outside the car. From behind the elevator panel came a soft beep. Karen gasped and pushed off the wall, quickly slipping into her clothes again and trying to straighten herself. Miranda rose to her feet and calmly smoothed her hands down herself, wiping the glistening wetness from her lips and chin with her fingers, and enjoying the taste on them as she suckled them. Karen twisted her skirt around her hips and bent again to pick up the document folder. The elevator car trembled and gently resumed its ascent up the shaft until it again slowed, chimed, and opened its doors. Miranda stepped out, turning to look back to Karen with an impish, and victorious, smirk.

"Enjoy your evening," she said as the elevator doors slid closed again. She licked her lips, still tasting the flavours of her succulent conquest. Yes, the camera had seen and recorded everything, and that recording would be cashiered for more encounters with the ravishing Karen Brinks. She thought of a few vendors she'd been having trouble moving from the figures they were insisting couldn't be negotiated down. Surely Mrs. Brinks could bring her ample negotiating skills to bear on the problem. Her marriage, and her reputation, could hang in the balance.

She smiled to herself as she made her way back to her office to call the head of building security. Next time, she thought, Karen was going to be taught the art and technique of cunnilingus.

Her smile broadened as she realized she could have as many next-times with Karen Brinks as she wanted.

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