Ciana Rose's Erotic Stories


Love At The 20th Floor

By Northern Light

All Rights Reserved



Elisabeth pulled herself languidly out of bed, naked and shiny with the soft glow of perspiration. Friday had dawned like most of this sticky, humid August, the city locked in the vise grip of a heat wave that dampened bodies and frayed nerves.

All month she had been sleeping fitfully atop the daybed in her stuffy bachelor apartment, 12 floors above the sizzling streets, a small fan whirring on her dresser to circulate the stale air. Rarely did she pull more than a thin cotton sheet over her nude body.

She wanted to stand forever in the cool shower on this morning, the spray drumming softly on her body, its welcome rhythm tingling her both outside and in. But soon she would be wedging herself into a subway car, a suffocating sardine can even at 7 in the morning, for the half-hour ride to her midtown office.

They had started work for the legal firm only a few weeks apart, she and Tom, their cubicles two floors removed in the high-rise. Elisabeth was an executive assistant to a couple of the senior partners, Tom wasn't too long out of law school, articling with an eye on bigger and better things.

At least he didn't have to ride the subway, having rented a tiny studio in an aging brownstone just 10 minutes by foot from their office. Yet as convenient as it was, this turn-of-the-century triplex was little more than an historic oven. He too slept in the buff, when he could sleep at all, his nakedness both a cool relief and a hot frustration when he awoke, alone, with an aching thickness that no woman had seen in many months.

Tom guessed Elisabeth was a few years his senior, in her late 20s, early 30s perhaps, though she could, and did, pass for many years younger. She usually played the burly bouncers' silly charade, digging through her purse to produce the ID they often requested. But Elisabeth accepted their compliment with a smile, knowing full well this game was acted out simply to give the doormen an extra moment or two to stand over her, drinking in the view.

And what wasn't to enjoy? Elisabeth obviously took great care of herself, and her fashionable wardrobe never failed to accentuate her athletic body -- the slender legs that climbed from her stylish pumps to a tight, small behind, her soft hips that tapered into a trim waist. Her belly was flat and hard, yielding to the gentle curves of exquisitely shaped breasts, so firm that her delicate lace bras were a needless accessory, and her bright eyes of aquamarine complemented the auburn hair that tumbled to her shoulders. She wore the suggestion of a fine eau de toilette that blended perfectly with her own scent of rainwater, the kind of rain that spatters and hisses on the pavement of a searing summer's afternoon.

Once, maybe twice a day, Tom would brush past Elisabeth in the narrow, thickly carpeted office corridors, deeply inhaling her natural perfume. They'd exchange just a smile or a nod as they moved about their work, and he wondered whether she knew his name at all. But oh, how he wanted to know Elisabeth, a woman so unlike the girls he had hung with in university. He had casually inspected the third finger on her left hand, and was pleased to see it bore no gold.

Tom was 26, just beginning to carve out his future in law, and he had no shortage of physical gifts himself -- he was six feet tall, with matine idol looks, and he too kept himself in shape, his sculpted, 180-pound physique a testament to the weights he lifted, the treadmills he ran and the fast-food he spurned. More than one of the women at the firm fancied him, imagining what rippled beneath the finely cut suits that absorbed a great deal of his meager salary.

He fully planned on bumping into Elisabeth this day, making it a point to loiter by the photocopier that was just around the corner from her cubicle. He caught her scent first, and he was breathless for an instant as she came into view.

"Hot enough for you?" he asked her, and immediately he wanted to kick himself for uttering such a tired clich.

"And it's going to be like this at least until the middle of next week," she replied, sighing. "I don't know about you, but September's not going to come soon enough for me."

She looked at the sheet of paper in his hand. "Will you be long?"

Tom hadn't a single copy to make, of course, but he slapped the page onto the copier anyway and punched the start button.

"Just a few," he said, as the machine glowed to life.

Elisabeth looked magnificent, he thought. She was 5-foot-6, taller in the heels she sometimes wore, and he was mesmerized by the way she carried herself, the way she didn't so much walk as float down the corridors. He also knew he wasn't the only man in the firm who had eyes for her, and he realized he was many rungs down the ladder of corporate success, if that's what she sought.

But Elisabeth had secret eyes for Tom, too, though long ago she had told herself that office romance was a dangerous thing. Her job was demanding enough without the distractions of having a lover under the same professional roof. Yet she couldn't help but wonder about Tom, and it required little imagination for her to picture herself in his strong arms, pressed to his lips, her long legs wrapped...

"Hey, Liz!"

The voice of another woman snapped her back to reality, and she saw the secretary who had arrived to join the queue at the copier. Tom scooped up the pages he'd soon drop in the recycling box and nodded goodbye.

"See you later," he said to Elisabeth, his farewell sounding as much a question as a statement.

He resisted the urge to steal a furtive glance over his shoulder as he headed down the corridor toward the stairwell. If he had, he'd have seen Elisabeth watching him until he turned the corner out of sight . . . or perhaps even heard her reply, "I hope so, Tom."


* * * * *


So completely had the heat wave gripped the city that the electric company had announced rotating power shutdowns, unable to cope with the demand. The legal firm would close at 3 o'clock, along with the rest of the high-rise and the downtown business core, but the office was nearly empty a half-hour before that.

The lights were still on at 6:15 when Elisabeth stepped onto the empty elevator on the 30th floor, bracing herself to walk back into the streets that were doing a fine impression of a sauna, and onto the rumbling sardine can that would take her home.

The mirrored car descended two floors before it stopped, and the doors slid open for a single passenger.

"You're still here?" It was Tom.

"Yes, some files that couldn't wait," she said, a smile lighting up her face as he stepped inside. "You too, I see. How are you?"

"Tired, overworked, underpaid and ready for the weekend," he said, dropping his briefcase between his feet. It landed with a heavy thud; his weekend would be spent studying the law, as it usually was.

Elisabeth laughed easily. "Aren't we all?"

He considered her: she was radiant, a splendid picture of health and beauty. Her black skirt hugged her hips and her matching jacket was worn over a cream-coloured blouse that was open three buttons at the neck. Tom thought he saw the hint of her lingerie, but he wasn't about to let his gaze linger.

Yet, he knew he'd never have a finer chance to get to know Elisabeth a little better.

"I'm not even going to try getting home in this traffic," he complained, as though the sidewalk to his brownstone would be gridlocked. "I'm going around the corner for a drink. Care to you join me?"

It sounded innocent enough, Elisabeth thought--a chilled glass of chablis with a colleague on the terrace of a pub nearby.

"The subway's going to be a nightmare," she replied, as if to convince herself. "Sure, Tom... why not?"


The elevator gained speed through the quiet building, and it was passing the 20th floor when the electric company threw the switch. The car shook violently and lurched to a halt, throwing both passengers to the floor, into blackness for an instant until the emergency light overhead flickered dimly to life. It was eerily silent.

"Elisabeth, are you hurt?" Tom asked, rising to a knee and pulling himself toward her.

"I . . . I don't think so," she answered, slowly. "I think I banged my head on the wall when I fell, but I'm in one piece."

"Here, let me help you up. Slowly, now... "

He offered his strong hands, and she slipped hers into them.

"Thanks, I'll be OK," she said, rising unsteadily to her feet.

They were clearly shaken, and for that reason--or another, perhaps--their hands remained linked for longer than need be.

"Well, this is a fine fix," Tom said, finally. "Now what?"

He opened the emergency telephone box on the wall and pulled out the receiver. It rang unanswered.

"Hope you weren't too thirsty," he said. "It looks like we might be here awhile."

Elisabeth turned to a mirrored wall, combing her tousled hair with her fingers until she stopped at the warm stickiness of blood.

"What do you know? I've always wanted to be a redhead," she joked, her head still spinning from the impact with the elevator wall.

"Here, sit," Tom instructed her firmly, pulling a handkerchief from the breast pocket of the suit-jacket he spread on the floor beneath her. He opened his briefcase to produce a small bottle of Evian and he doused the cotton, holding Elisabeth's temple with one hand and compressing the small wound with the other.

"It's not a bad cut, but I'm afraid you're going to have one rotten headache," he said.

Elisabeth looked up at her Boy Scout. She was impressed by his calm and his compassion, as by his rugged features: the breadth of his shoulders, the blueness of his eyes, the chiseled cut of his afternoon-whiskered jaw. Tom was taken, too, first by her wide eyes -- then by the sight of her delicate, deeply scooped bra, by now in plain view down her silk blouse that had been disheveled by their violent stop and her tumble to the floor.

She followed the path of his eyes and thought she should adjust her clothes. But she didn't.

"That's all I need, another headache on this job," Elisabeth managed with a weak smile.

Tom dropped to the floor beside her and freshened his handkerchief with the water, pressing it again to her scalp. He had taken a few blows to the skull during his college football days, and he knew only too well the discomfort Elisabeth was feeling.

"We'll be out of here soon," he told her, and he half believed it himself.


* * * * *


It was nearly 9 o'clock and Elisabeth was dozing, her head on the shoulder of Tom's white shirt. She had told him she felt a little groggy before she nodded off.

"But make sure you wake me before we're rescued," she kidded him. "I have to look good for the firemen!"

He couldn't take his eyes off her sleeping body -- off the pleated skirt hiked midway up her smooth, bare thighs, the soft pulse in her neck, the crests of the firm flesh that rhythmically rose and fell within her partly unbuttoned blouse, almost escaping her bra with each breath. He was nearly certain he could see half a honey-brown areola peeking above the delicate fabric, and this view produced an untimely stirring in his wool trousers.

"Great, another crisis," he muttered to himself, shifting his legs to relieve the building pressure.

With that Elisabeth sighed, and her arm stretched across his legs, her hand absently coming to rest on his groin. She awoke with a start, her palm atop a growing bulge in Tom's trousers.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, blushing, and she recoiled quickly.

"No, the apology is mine," Tom said, also flushed and clearly embarrassed by his condition. He turned toward her, his eyes widening as he noticed her golden areola was indeed exposed, peeking into view above her bra. As she moved, a hardened nipple slipped into sight as well.

Obviously, he wasn't the only one who felt a stirring in the loins, and it occurred to Elisabeth how deeply she was attracted to this man -- forbidden colleague or not.

"Tom, we find ourselves in a rather, well, hard situation," she said with a soft laugh, placing her hand back on his lap. He sighed at her tender touch, her slender fingers tracing the outline of his growing erection. "This won't do."

Elisabeth slowly unbuckled the waist of his pants, folding back the woolen flaps. He was wearing silk boxers, and the fly was spreading apart, surrendering to the swelling contents. She felt hotter still as he wriggled free of his suspenders, shirt and tie, revealing his sinewy arms, thick chest and well-defined abdominal.

"Is it warm in here, or is it just me?" Elisabeth asked him, still tracing his sex, and she heard no reply. "No, I don't think it's just me. Well then, why don't we help you out of these?"

Tom stood tall before her, slipping off his brogues as his cuffed pants dropped to the elevator floor. Elisabeth crawled toward him, lifting them from around his ankles, and she reached out to grasp the waistband of his boxers. With a gentle tug, pulling away from his hardness, she relieved him of those, too.

"Oh, my," she whispered, now confronted by Tom's erection. It thrust straight out like a freshly milled shaft of carbon-steel, perched above his generous balls, its thick veins rising off it like a relief map, the plump, mushroom head glistening, leaking in anticipation.

He was beautiful, she thought: six inches, maybe a little more, from base to crown, and a good thickness of circumference. She hadn't seen many male organs in her life, but she had never seen one more desirable.

Elisabeth leaned in close and blew her warm breath across Tom's cock, then flicked her wet tongue around the head, licking up the salty bead. He moaned, half in pleasure, half in pain, throbbing involuntarily at her touch, his penis dancing with a mind of its own.

"For so long," he said to her. "I've wanted you for so long."

"Do you think you're alone?" she said, admiring his swollen member, then reaching up to kiss him as he bent to meet her lips. "Do you think I haven't wanted you?"

Elisabeth opened her mouth wide and drew his cock deep inside. He shuddered again as her warmth enveloped him. She pulled back, then forth, again and again; he was on fire.

Tom turned his head to one side, nearly overcome by his ecstasy, and very nearly came at the unexpected sight of himself disappearing into Elisabeth's hungry mouth, her soft hands cupping his heavy balls. The mirrored elevator afforded many different views, and he almost felt he was watching someone else. But no, he was alone with this lovely woman, and suddenly he hoped no one knew they were imprisoned in this elevator halfway up a high-rise.

Tom reached down and took Elisabeth's silk blouse by its collar, carefully pulling it up over her head. He had never seen anything more erotic: one of her breasts had slipped almost completely from her flimsy bra, and the other was about to fall free as Elisabeth reached behind herself and unhooked the clasp. Her nipples were sharply erect, aroused by what was happening and what, she hoped, was to come.

Now it was his turn. Elisabeth rose from her knees and Tom dropped to his, burrowing his face between her breasts. He inhaled deeply, overwhelmed by her fabulous scent, and softly sucked her right nipple into his mouth. She moaned her approval of his tongue, which was swirling around the distended areola, and his hand, which now was gently kneading her other breast.

She almost didn't notice him pop the button on her skirt and pull the zipper down its full length, but she gasped when it fell to her ankles; she was naked but for the silky, high-cut bikini panties that were damp with passion, and in a moment they were off, too. The auburn hair of her glorious sex was delicately shaved, carefully trimmed to a V, and the perfect lips of her pussy were bare and soft as velvet.

Tom fought to find his breath as he eased her legs apart just slightly and moved his head between her thighs. Her lips gleamed with the womanly nectar that flowed within, and he dropped his tongue into her, drawing up along her pussy's length, her swollen clitoris a hard, pink bud in his suckling mouth. She nearly collapsed in his arms, and the spinning elevator had nothing at all to do with a headache that was returning with a vengeance.

They both were on the floor again, and Elisabeth climbed over Tom, licking her palm and stroking his engorged cock. She was a merciless tease. Finally she pressed him down, not saying a word, and straddled his hips, facing him.

Slowly, even torturously, she lowered herself toward his shaft, stopping for a long instant as his bloated head nuzzled her lips. Then she pushed down and swallowed him whole, and they cried out together, unable to contain their bliss.

Almost in slow motion, Elisabeth rose back up, powered by her strong thighs, and eased back down, moaning as he filled the slick vacuum of her pussy. Tom's hips drove up to meet hers, his nails digging into the cheeks of her tight behind, and they found a perfect, gluttonous rhythm.

The pleasure soon was too much for Elisabeth to bear. A bead of sweat trailed from beneath her moist breasts, the product of her relentless, frenzied motion in this hot, airless elevator. He was soaked, too, perspiration stinging his eyes.

And then, as the surf of pleasure crashed over her, Elisabeth cried out in exquisite orgasm, an astonishing climax that shot like a bolt of lightning from between her thighs to the base of her brain and back down again, setting her whole body ablaze.

Tom opened his eyes to see Elisabeth arched back over him, her face twisted in every emotion, her arms reaching up, grabbing for invisible support. He could take no more, and he felt his own molten liquid welling deep in his tightening balls, being fed up into his cock.

The first thick spurt pistoned from him like it had been propelled from a cannon and he nearly blacked out, howling in pleasure. Then he throbbed again, and again, and once more, shooting ropes of come deep into the body of the magnificent woman who was trembling atop him, now spasming in aftershock.

Elisabeth jerked back and his spent cock dropped from her body; it slapped loudly back onto his belly, glistening with her womanly juices and his own sticky seed. Then she collapsed onto him, sobbing softly in exhaustion and joy. Tom wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight, vowing wordlessly to never let her go.


* * * * *


They were asleep, Elisabeth's body a warm blanket stretched over Tom, when the elevator jerked back to life, its cold light filling the car. They awoke abruptly, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't," she said, smiling softly and putting her finger to his lips. "Not one word."

Slowly they pulled themselves to their knees, both of their fit bodies stiffened by their unforgettable night. Tom took Elisabeth's head in his hands and drew it toward him, kissing her gently and deeply; he wanted this to last forever. It was a few minutes before the car began its slow descent, enough time for them to pull on the wrinkled clothes they had discarded into a pile hours ago.

It was nearly morning when they stepped into the lobby, a quiet Saturday, and they blinked back the dawn as they stepped into the streets of the sleeping city, still gripped by the stifling heat wave.

"Come," Tom said, his briefcase in one hand and Elisabeth's palm in the other, steering her in the direction of his brownstone. She needed no convincing, and they set off at a sultry pace, walking slowly into their future as one.




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