Going Down 36

Note: This is a prequel, of sorts, to Blind Date. This is a fantasy that Jo related to Daniel when they were chatting online, and you'll see elements of this story in that one. It also originated with a very vivid and hot dream I had one night...

---

"This conference is amazing," I thought to myself, silently, as I stood with a crowd waiting for the elevator up. "I have to figure out what to put into practice first."

I felt the herd of people around me, but I was lost in thought and, when the doors opened, I rode the surge of the crowd inside, then turned to face the doors.

The elevator jerked as it started its ascent, and I caught my balance. A hand grazed my elbow from behind as if to steady me and I mumbled the obligatory, "Thank you," under my breath, while trying to stuff my notes away in the crowded car.

Suddenly, I felt something warm on the back of my neck—steady breath, not unpleasant—and realized how tightly packed we were, like sardines. I shifted slightly forward to try and allow more room to those behind me. A split second later I felt the breath on my neck again—and it seemed, hotter? Perhaps. Certainly more insistent as it was accompanied by a hand lightly grazing my hip.

As much information as I'd learned today, it all left my head in a moment as my body reacted—a tingle between my legs, the tightening of the flesh surrounding my nipples, and a sharp intake of breath. Lately, I've been working so hard that my physical needs have taken a back seat, and it was thrilling to feel my body respond so quickly and intensely.

The doors opened, and a few people alit but even more tried to squeeze in. I shifted slightly backward to make room, and the hand that grazed my hip gripped lightly in the same spot. I felt the tell-tale signs of male excitement and gasped—not at all loudly, but with apparently enough volume that someone listening for it would hear, because the person behind me responded by snaking his hand around to rest just beneath my belly button and tilted their pelvis, pressing into me. I thought the contact was solely a product of the crowded elevator, but now I was beginning to understand that this person behind me was taking the opportunity to involve me in his - yes, that was definitely an erection - obvious arousal.

I don't know what came over me, and I simply reacted by arching my back slightly, pushing my ass against him. Even among the chatter in the elevator, I heard a soft gasp. The elevator stopped again and a few people left, allowing more room for the others to shift. I was torn. I didn't want to be noticed remaining pressed up against this stranger, but I certainly didn't want to move either. I glanced right and left, slyly, trying to ascertain if I knew anyone around me, and felt relieved that I didn't. My shyness won out however and I began to shift my weight, only to be met by another jerking of the elevator that sent me grinding hard backward.

I quickly regained my balance and stepped tentatively forward.

"No."

I froze, not completing the step, and rocked back against the man behind me again. One second. Then two. My heart was beating so that it pounded throughout my body.

I glanced up to see the elevator had nearly reached my floor. His hand was now tickling my outer thigh, just below the hem of my skirt, flesh on flesh, and I still felt him throbbing against my buttocks. A ding signaled my floor and I reluctantly, but deliberately, pushed forward to depart the elevator car, feeling his hand slip from my skin, and then I turned to the right beyond the door. Instinct told me not to turn around to catch sight of him, so I kept my eyes ahead. I strode purposefully toward my door, already contemplating what I could do to attend to my throbbing need once I reached the privacy of my room.

I had only taken a dozen steps when I sensed movement in the hallway behind me. Was it him? I was tempted to turn around and perhaps catch a glimpse of the man who had encouraged my rush toward my hotel door, though I was also looking forward to a bit of solitude and the vibrator I'd spirited through airport security. Was he following me? My breathing increased with just the contemplation.

I decided against looking; not trusting even the fresh memory of what had transpired in the elevator. When something didn't quite fit into my catalogue of previous experience, I often convinced myself it was all a dream and this event was no different. In my head I carried on a conversation with a dispassionate observer who convinced me I had felt what I'd wanted to feel after repressing my own sexual desire for so long.

At my door, I inserted the key and out of the corner of my eye saw a flash from the direction I'd come. "Really? Could it be him?" I didn't quite believe it but as I entered my door I hesitated, just in case, my left arm holding the door open and breathing heavily.

One beat, then two. On three, at the very moment I'd decided I was fooling myself again, I felt a familiar hand snake around the right side of my waist, caress upward to cup my breast, coinciding with warm breath on my neck, and soon followed by two lips and grazing teeth.

In this moment, there was nothing but him and I, panting and throbbing. A thousand thoughts rushed through my brain, but they were interrupted by his voice.

"Do you want this?"

Rational thought had left moments ago. In its place there was a primal scream building in my brain, repeating yes, yes, yes, yes, over and over again, my temples and clit throbbing in time, alternating with the realization of how crazy I was to consider allowing this.

I took a deep breath, and on the exhale what came out was, "Yes, yes, please."

He pushed me forward with his body, suddenly, reaching up to encircle the wrist of my left arm with a strong hand, grabbing my right wrist with his other—just a few steps, then the unmistakable slam of the door.

"Stay here," he said, still in a low, growly voice but more audible than his demand in the elevator. He removed his hands and I heard the privacy lock gently clink behind me. Moments later, his hands around my wrists again, he pulled my arms back, forcing my breasts forward, and he steered me onward until the tops of my thighs were up against the desk. But he didn't stop steering and I was bent forward with the momentum and the roadblock against my thighs. Gently, he placed each of my hands, palms down on the slickly polished wood surface of the desk, and I felt my nipples stiffen even more.

My hands found the opposite edge of the desk and gripped tightly. I didn't feel him close by anymore but heard him. Behind me? In the bathroom? Closet?—rifling through my things. The breath in my chest lifted me off the desk then back down again as I strained to imagine what he was doing. As I lifted, I purposefully brushed my hardened nipples against the desk, craving sensation as the sudden absence of him was palpable.

"Raise your head," he said, suddenly close, speaking so softly I could almost mistake it for my own thoughts. I strained my neck upward as his hand in the middle of my back kept my torso pinned to the desk. He'd found my silky sleep mask in my cosmetics bag, and was placing it around my head. Pulling my hair out from the elastic in the back, his fingers gently grazed my cheek as I lay back down facing left.

An image crossed my mind of being put on my knees by Tommy, a guy I'd met casually one night when I was not quite twenty-one and flashing an awful fake ID that would nonetheless get me into clubs so long as it was also accompanied by a flash of thigh. He was the first that had treated me like this—Tommy was—forcefully, sometimes cruelly, but usually giving me just what he wanted which, luckily, was just what I wanted too, though I hadn't really known that yet.

Since that experience my body sometimes craved being overpowered, given no choice, but too often I found myself in the position of orchestrating that sort of situation to the extent that it lost its mystery. You can't be surprised when you've written the script. Not only was this scene unwritten by me, it hadn't even been imagined as a possibility and that left me oh, so very excited. His hand in my hair at the nape of my neck, twisting and pulling, brought me back to the present moment. A stranger from the elevator, in a foreign city, had me bent over the desk in my hotel room. My purse, with my phone, had been dropped by the door. I realized I should be more panicked, and how very vulnerable I was feeling, but I wasn't really frightened at all.

His other hand returned to my outer thigh, pulling the hem of my skirt up to expose my ass. He released his handful of hair to use both hands to pull down my panties and reveal me completely, leaving them in a puddle around my ankles. Thick fingers grazed my moist lips, and I shuddered. As gentle as his touch was across my cheek just a moment earlier is as rough as his fingers shoving deeply into me felt, and the dichotomy of the touch was delicious.

"Such a luscious slut."

The words sent more spasms to my vulva, as I heard the rustle of a button, a zipper, and pants dropping. It wasn't that long ago that I was pressing into this strangers' cock in the elevator and now I held my breath in anticipation of really feeling him, flesh in flesh.

His fingers replaced by the head of his prick, I arched my back and pushed back in invitation. He rubbed along my slit then dipped in, shallowly, again, then again, but then...nothing. My panting breath filled my head so I couldn't hear his movements at all and those few moments stretched on interminably.

Strong hands suddenly gripped the flesh of my hips and the tops of my thighs once more as I felt his hot tongue spear my throbbing inner lips. I didn't realize how tightly I was holding myself until I exhaled in a great whoosh, feeling his lips on me, and the tip of his tongue snaking down to tickle the engorged tip of my clit. Licking up and down, from that sensitive button then back to dive into my dripping depths, again and again, he was playing my cunt like a handcrafted instrument and was rewarded for his diligence with my high-pitched operatic wail as waves of pleasure erupted. My knees buckled but he was holding on tight and sucking my juices, preventing me from sliding to the floor in a puddle.

I was still gripping the desk, gasping, when I suddenly felt him behind me again, as he plunged deeply in one forceful movement, easily into my slippery depths. The desk prevented me from moving away so I fought not to cry out and willed my muscles to relax and accept the thick and throbbing hard invasion. With little hesitation he withdrew then rammed into me again. I was still inhaling from the first thrust and fought to catch my breath, guttural grunts emerging from the depths of my chest. Again. Again.

I felt myself opening up more and more as his thrusts quickened, and my body, as if of its own mind, began to buck back against him. His hands grabbed my hips in affirmation, pulling my ass back to meet him, and the rhythm we struck was hard and insistent.

Just when I began to feel the crest, when my moans were regular and had evened out into an erotic melody again, he withdrew.

"Oh, oh, please, god, please...," I whimpered, feeling the loss of him so acutely it was painful.

"Please?" came his muffled reply.

"Yes," she breathed, parting her legs more and bracing herself to feel him inside her cunt again.

Was his cock even harder than before or did it just feel that way when he entered me again? My breath was coming out in grunts and, cresting again, my upper body started thrashing around, screaming my arousal, unintelligible syllables with the occasional "fuck, yes, god, oh god, yes."

He stiffened and held himself inside me, pulsing, and I heard his animal moans as I erupted in a crescendo of screams. He fell on me then, his weight pressing me into the smooth, cool desk. Several moments passed, and our breathing settled together as he wiped a stray hair from my cheek, his lips and tongue tracing a line back to my earlobe.

"Lucy," he said, softly, and when he did, I knew I'd heard someone say my name just like that before. Just like that earlier today. I stiffened as my mind began to piece it all together.

"We're due for drinks with the vendors in just over an hour. I've laid out the black dress I found in your closet. I'd like it if you wore just that dress, and nothing else but your shoes. You're expected downstairs in about 35 minutes in the salon for your hair, and I've arranged a reservation for dinner after. Is there anything else you need?"

I knew in that instant who had taken me, both gently and roughly, to a place I'd never been.

My assistant.