Goin' Down 1 Read online

  "I take it you no longer want to be a nice girl."

  She picked up the penlight. Flicked it on and off. “There might be truth in that statement. I was a nice lady at one time. Here I am, divorced, sleeping alone, while my ex is off screwing his brand new, not-so-nice lady friend on some moonlit beach."

  "Is that why you two divorced? Because of your sex life? Or lack of it?"

  She regarded him carefully. “I think you're assuming too much."

  "Based on what you're telling me, your ex fantasized about someone else while making love to you."

  She stared at him. Too close for comfort.

  "What is your name, anyway?” she asked.

  "If I tell you, the stranger part of the fantasy ceases."

  She smiled and nodded. “Fine. Make one up then. I don't care to address someone as ‘hey you!"

  "Is that what you're planning to do?"

  She laughed. “Make up a name? I'd be too stupid. I'll probably end up giving you my real name.” She paused. “How about calling me Storm?"

  He laughed. “Sounds good enough ... Storm. I'll call myself Roman."

  "Roman?” Roaming hands.... She looked at his hands, and knew she would have no objection to their roaming anywhere on her person.

  "Yes, unless you prefer another name, someone you've fantasized about?"

  "Hell, I've never given any of my fantasy lovers an actual name.” She stopped. He said nothing. The fact that she had revealed she did have fantasy lovers allowed him enough insight into a private part of her that she had been good at keeping from others, including her ex.

  "So, tell me, do you enjoy clitoral or vaginal orgasms?"

  She felt a tightening begin, a warmth spreading through her. They were moving into different territory. Yet somewhere inside she knew she had no objection going there.

  "Shit, you know ... I never thought to ask myself that question."

  "I'm guessing clitoral...."

  What was this guy, some kind of sex psychic? “Really? And what would you know about the big ‘O'?"

  "Clitoral is easier to achieve for women."

  "Should I venture there?"

  He chuckled. “Why not? Communication is the key. I've taken the time to learn about you women. I know what pleases you. And I'm guessing the thought of experiencing more has gained your attention."

  "Maybe, but it doesn't necessarily mean it's going to happen."

  "Maybe not, but it has been my fantasy to make a woman come and doing it inside a place like this. Someone I do not know, but who I get to know quite intimately before we know our true names. Someone who craves that physical connection that we all require in life."

  Shit, he was so on the money she suddenly wanted to kick him.

  "And so if that is your fantasy? To make someone like me have the Big O inside a stalled elevator, do you really think it's going to happen?"

  "Only if you want it. Let's say it is one of my fantasies. I have many to share.” His voice was soft, certain, and determined. “It would be quite safe actually, for us to play this one out. I would only finger fuck you to a more than satisfying climax."

  She could feel building warmth moving up through her clit. She had always been orgasmic, always able to get off with the use of a few ingenious devices. But she always preferred a man's hand on her, his fingers exploring inside where the sweet torture of release resided.

  Her mind struggled with trying to remember the last time she enjoyed such an orgasm, total abandonment. Pure joy, the ultimate sensual pleasure all women could experience with the right partner.

  Fuck, she couldn't remember.

  And she began to wonder.

  Could this one deliver what he promised?

  Was he the right partner?

  "First you need to relax. Let go of any resistance. I never had a problem finding a woman's G-spot."

  And how many women did you share this fantasy with? She was tempted to ask.

  She refrained. Asking would only destroy the mood now created between them.

  Instead she glanced down at his hands. Strong, yet his fingertips she guessed were quite sensitive, and it reminded her of how her ex never bothered asking where her G-spot was or cared if a thing called the G-spot existed, only ensuring that his needs were gratified.

  This stranger was asking her to make a choice. If she hesitated, would she have a chance to experience the promise of what he was now offering?

  It's now or never!

  As if her body had a mind of its own, separate from that inner voice, she unbuttoned and pulled down the zipper to her skirt.

  She pushed the skirt to her ankles, stepped out of it, felt the cool air brush across her bare skin.

  Slowly, deliberately she removed the panties, all the while thankful for the darkness that surrounded them.

  Moments passed where he made no comment except for gentle commands. “Lie here beside me."

  She noticed he had taken off his tank top and laid it down onto the carpet.

  Feeling exposed, she slid down beside him, nestled her bare ass against him.

  His body was warm, strong, none of the flabbiness she had become accustomed to expecting.

  He whispered, “Tell me how you want me to touch you? Slow? Lightly? Harder? You will learn what your body needs when you listen to what it wants."

  Roman wasted no time as his fingers soon found their way to the crack between her parted legs. Reflexively, she squeezed them together.

  "Relax,” he whispered. “It will feel wonderful."

  Reassured by his words, she parted her legs slightly. As his fingers worked over her soft furry mound, she relaxed further allowing him full access.

  She placed her hand on his arm, moving downward to the back of his hand. She pushed his hand firmly against her mound, where she had become wet beneath his touch.

  God, it felt wonderful!

  She closed her eyes, as sensations of heated pleasure flowed through. His finger gently entered her vagina to explore the velvety terrain, eliciting further heated sensations that threatened to drive her insane.

  As he inched further in, she gasped as the heated pleasure overtook her senses. She felt the swelling inside begin and knew soon he would bring her to that place of no return.

  She wanted him to fuck her!

  She arched against him, her movements becoming smaller, more focused. Her breath quickened.

  The swelling continued, the sensation of knowing she was close to the edge of the precipice came closer.

  She whimpered into the darkness while he massaged her pussy, lightly then more deliberately, knowing he was in control.

  At one point her body froze, became taut.

  She grabbed his shoulders, her legs stretched fully out while a strong oceanic wave of ecstatic release engulfed her.

  Fuck, he was soooo right.

  Clitoral stimulation was easier.

  God, she did not want this to end, this feeling of ecstatic release.

  Waves of utter pleasure swept over her, through her. She hung on gripping his arm, her eyes closed, her mouth open, her legs fully parted.

  Later she would deal with the regrets.

  Later she would deal with the guilt.

  Now she would simply enjoy these heated pleasures experienced with this total stranger, with whom she had no emotional ties.

  No longer did she wonder if she competed with another woman, or if he was thinking about that other woman while making love to her.

  "Ahhh, yes,” he whispered in that same soft velvet voice, “and there can be more."

  Unbelieving, she felt him slide his fingers further inside, where he continued to explore every part of her—deeper into that part of her that kept such dark secrets.

  The man had indeed done his homework!

  She gasped.

  Gently he brought his fingers to the outside of her vaginal lips, gently pinched them, kneaded them, drove her insane with his ministrations.

  He returned again to th
at delicate hot spot, massaged her clit again as well as the outer lips, and the movement of his finger kept the fires burning so hot she felt she couldn't breathe.

  Soft whimpers came from somewhere deep within. She did not recognize her own voice. Amazed that this stranger took this much time to ensure her pleasure.

  With his other hand he moved up beneath her tank top and stroked her flat belly, then further up and stroked her breasts, pulling at each nipple until they became hard and erect.

  Tentatively, she touched his arm. Found herself responding to this encouragement and felt comfortable enough to tell him when he should move away, when to come back to that same spot. Communicating what she wanted she realized put her in control, yet at the same time it left her vulnerable, a little frightened.

  At one point she had the urge to cry and yell at him because his touch evoked emotions that cried for release.

  And somewhere in her mind came the realization this stranger was helping her know her body more completely than all the years she had been with her ex; a man who had never taken the time to make that discovery.

  Time ceased inside the elevator.

  Only the moment mattered.

  She felt another orgasm begin to build and swell as he continued to stroke her G-spot.

  Again, she arched against him, spreading her legs farther apart to give him further access.

  Moans of surrender escaped.

  Wave after wave of deep pleasure expanded her awareness of how much life could still offer.

  She felt the fluids escape as her body contracted, and the spasms came deep inside, again and again, providing eternal bliss.

  Don't stop! her mind cried over and over. She never wanted this fantasy to end.

  But she knew all things had beginnings and endings.

  Slowly, she felt herself begin to descend, coming to a place where when it was over she lay encircled in his arms.

  Neither spoke. Through the elevator's walls they heard the storm rage on.

  Suddenly, the ring of his cell broke the quietude.

  A moment later, “The generator is fixed,” was all he said.

  Back to reality!

  Like a popped balloon, her fantasy deflated then disappeared completely.

  Disappointment filled her, knowing that she would now have to return to her reality, to a world that would now seem duller, grayer.

  She had drunk the last drop of fine wine, consumed the last piece of decadent chocolate.

  Until the next time.

  Was there going to be a next time?

  She would always savor these moments. Especially alone in her bed, in the darkness when her world felt like it was collapsing around her, as it had been doing for the past year since her ex's declaration that he was divorcing her.

  Reluctantly they put their clothes back on. When completely dressed, he made a movement toward the panel of buttons, and pushed one. He turned to her. “Next week Storm, at the same time, we meet here.” He winked. “This elevator will be out of order. We can enjoy another fantasy. In the meantime, we'll go our separate ways."

  As the elevator rose, Anna knew she would return to play out another fantasy.

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  Chapter Two

  One Month Later—

  Anna Jacobsen took the antique white linen napkin and spread it out on to her lap. “This is nice. Thanks, Maddie.” She looked at the decadent chocolate cake her friend had placed before her with several candles perched on top. “You always remember my birthday."

  "It's not hard, considering we celebrate a birthday within the same month and we're the same age. Though I hate reminding myself I'll be forty-nine as well next week.” She made a face.

  Anna looked at her friend of thirty-seven years. “Yes, that's true, but we're both not ready for the rocker just yet.” Madeleine had the look of money. Pencil slim, she wore all the right styles and wore them with a flair that belied her years on the earth along with her well coifed hairdo, done in a pale blonde color, and shorter than most dare to wear. The short sassy do made her appear years younger than her approaching forty-nine year milestone.

  Anna stared at the lit candles. “The way you're sounding, forty-nine doesn't mean we're heading for that old folks home any time soon either."

  "Yeah, you're right. I know it's been a rough year for you, Anna. C'mon, blow out the candles and make a wish."

  "I really wasn't planning to do anything special this year. My kids are all busy with their lives and with my birthday falling in the middle of the week, well usually I let it just come and go.” She drew in a breath and quickly exhaled, extinguishing two of the three candles. She took another short breath and blew out the third. She made a wish. Let me be somewhere else next year. Anna tested the cake with her fork, scraping off parts of the frosting. “I don't know, being left for a younger woman puts you on a different mind path. How does anyone compete with youth?"

  "Hey, you don't have to tell me,” Madeleine replied. “Hell, it must be catching,” she added and poured hot steaming coffee into two cups. Her words reminded Anna that her friend's husband had also taken off years before, leaving the marriage after their fifteenth anniversary stating they were no longer on the same page, and that the twenty-something he'd found to shack up with was.

  "Well, how do we compete? I'm forty-nine and next year we'll celebrate our fiftieth, and suddenly it makes me realize there's a hell of a lot more years behind us than ahead. Now that I'm divorced, living alone ... except for one hamster, feeling it's necessary to have someone or some thing in the apartment besides me."

  Madeleine shook her head. “You just have to face the fact that life is always changing for us. And this can be the best time of our lives because we can have as many years ahead to live. It's not uncommon to celebrate a one hundredth birthday anymore."

  Anna looked up from her cake. “Oh right! That's exactly how I want to see myself, with a lot less hair, or no hair, less teeth or no teeth, and less libido."

  Madeleine chuckled. “Or no libido? We are sexual beings from the moment we are born to the day we die."

  "Okay, and now give me that ‘use it or lose it’ spiel."

  "Anna, the fact that your husband left you for another woman can't let the bitterness destroy you. Once you look at life differently, you're not going to miss that bastard one single bit."

  "You think?” Anna responded, not hiding the sarcasm. “Actually, I don't miss him. Or even want him back. It's just the idea that he's got someone and I don't. And statistics show women my age don't easily find replacement parts."

  "Why would you even want to replace Allan? Like a lot of men his age, he's probably going through male menopause and feels this need to be with someone half his age just so he can feel he can still get it up. Obviously, he hasn't accepted the inevitability that we all get old ... older."

  Anna stuck her fork into the center of her cake, broke off a good size chunk, and savored the rich dark chocolate frosting, knowing full well that it was going to give her a huge sugar high for the rest of the afternoon. She didn't fucking care.

  She glanced out a side window. They were on the sixteenth floor in a high rise condo complex that housed mostly senior citizens. Madeleine lived with her elderly father who was recuperating at a nearby rehab center after hip surgery.

  "I'm surprised you're living here,” Anna said, switching subjects. “You're like me. You don't like elevators, not since you and I got stuck inside one with your grandmother."

  "Omigod, I still remember that day. I don't know what scared me most? Becoming stuck inside that thing. Or that screaming grandmother of mine."

  "Yet you live up here on the sixteenth floor with your father. You can't tell me you walk up all those flights of stairs everyday."

  "Only when I feel energetic enough, otherwise you're right I take the elevator up and walk down. It's not so bad."

  Anna shrugged, ignoring the burst of thunder that shook the building. Summer storms came
and went in the region, yet the storm inside her never dissipated long enough to allow her to feel peace about where her life was or where it was going.

  "Why is it when you don't have a man full time in your life, that's when you feel the fucking horniest?” Anna said, changing subjects again. She hadn't yet told Madeleine about her elevator man encounters, mainly because she didn't know how to approach the subject of Roman, who had been more than willing over the last several weeks to help her live out some pretty wild fantasies.

  Madeleine stared at her, purposely hid the subtle shock that came into her eyes by focusing on the table and started to straighten pieces of silverware, and brush crumbs onto a plate. “Simple. Because when we no longer have direct access to it, we want it more."

  "Yeah, but you don't have that problem, do you?” Anna went on. “You have what's-his-face coming around now. Does he sleep here or do you go to his place?” Anna knew it wasn't any of her business. She couldn't help ask about Madeleine's latest beau, whom she had never met but had heard enough about that it always brought a tinge of envy, knowing that Madeleine was probably enjoying a few romps in the proverbial hay with this man.

  "Anna, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were prying into MY love life."

  "Prying or not, you and I know that he's providing you with what's missing in a lot of us ‘older’ ladies’ lives."

  No longer the case, considering her Tuesday clandestine meetings with elevator man!

  Madeleine regarded her, then jutted out her chin. “Let's say I never want to lose it,” she responded, her voice soft and resolved.

  "Understandably so,” Anna said, needing to know more. “Still, would it make it easier to accept this aging stuff if we lose that craving? Most women accept celibacy in their old age. I'm hoping I do the same when I'm old enough to not care anymore.” She thought about her elevator encounters with Roman, and was tempted to tell Madeleine, but again refrained, unwilling yet to share these escapades that yet seemed too fragile.