Chapter Three -- Mrs Penelope Cashmore
Penelope Cashmore had not so long ago celebrated her sixtieth birthday but she was still a good looking woman. She exuded sophistication and was always elegantly dressed and manifested an antique charm. She was repeatedly told that she looked very much like the British actress Joanna Lumley and spoke with the same plum in her voice. Penelope was a modest woman who was not easily flattered.
Today she was visiting her lawyers in the Prudential Building and was wearing a mauve Chanel suit consisting of a tight pencil skirt and form-fitting jacket. She wore a cream satin blouse, black Christian Louboutin high heels and had accessorised sparingly with gold jewellery. Her makeup was perfect, black eyeliner and mascara, blended green and mauve eyeshadow, rouged cheeks, ruby-red Maybelline long-lasting lipstick.
But it what was what she was wearing under her suit that would have surprised her legal staff. Penelope loved the fit and feel of retro lingerie. It reminded her of when she was young woman and much sought after by the gentrified lotharios at her father's country club although she had saved her virtue for her wedding night.
She was wearing a red satin half-cup brassiere, red silk French-cut camiknickers, a black satin suspender belt with six garters, and elegant, silken-sheer, fully-fashioned black stockings. The backseams and Cuban-heel ankle welts of her stockings often turned the heads of the more discerning gentlemen who wondered if they were pantyhose or were indeed the real thing.
Penelope kept her well-tended platinum-blonde hair long and coiffured; for business she wore it piled high on her head with bangs cut level with her eyebrows.
Her jealous friends called her mutton dressed as lamb but she didn't care; she had looked after herself and refused to dress like an old biddy even though she was entering her golden years.
She stood waiting for the elevator in deep discussion with her top attorney. The elevator arrived and the door opened and she was only vaguely aware of a man in dark suit standing at the back of the elevator. The overhead lights didn't appear to be working properly and the man was enveloped by shadows.
The man looked dismayed to see Penelope talking to her lawyer which delayed her entrance into the car. The door started to close and the man leapt forward and pressed the button to keep the doors open.
"No need young man; I'll take the next one," Penelope said distractedly.
The man kept his finger on the button, keeping the door open, willing the woman to get in the car.
Penelope finally noticed that man was holding the elevator for her and she smiled in his direction briefly although she couldn't quite see his face.
"Look Charles, this nice gentleman, and there are few of them left, is holding the lift for me. I'll call you tomorrow," she offered her hand to the lawyer who took it graciously.
The man noticed the woman's long elegant fingers and long red-painted fingernails. Her use of the word 'lift' gave away her inclination to spend half of the year in London even though she was an American citizen.
"Shall I accompany you to your car Miz Cashmore?" the lawyer offered courteously.
"Oh no Charles, I'd like you to start on the directions I gave you for my will as soon as possible please. When you are done please contact my secretary Cicely," Penelope smiled at the man in the dark suit.
The man with his back pressed against the wall of the elevator holding the door open was not happy. It was not supposed to be like this. The woman should have got into the elevator car immediately and paid him no attention until it was too late.
The man breathed a sigh of relief when Penelope stepped into the car, bringing with her a miasma of perfume and then the elevator began its descent. He moved to the back of the elevator and looked down at his phone and sent a pre-scripted text message and then switched his phone to flight mode.
A technician in the lobby of the prudential Building had the control panel for the bank of elevators open and appeared to be busy poking at the wiring looms with a screwdriver when he received a text message on his phone. He looked at the text and sighed.
This was not the first time he had carried out the instructions given to him by the mysterious man in the elevator. The first time had been about a month ago in the early evening when a thirty-nine year old businesswoman named Justine had been the victim. Trapped in the elevator between the twelfth and thirteenth floor after a busy day in the office, the mysterious man had sexually assaulted her; although she had become complicit and had orgasmed and was too ashamed to report the incident.
The second time, two weeks later, a twenty-three year old secretary named Sally heading up to the eleventh floor after working out in the basement gym had been sexually violated when the elevator stopped between floors. She had been fucked hard through her slinky gym tights and enjoyed a nearly overwhelming orgasm once she stopped fighting and surrendered herself to the mysterious stranger.
The technician knew that he was an accomplice in what could legally be construed as rape. The stranger was lucky that neither of the women had filed a complaint and for that matter so was the technician. The stranger had a hold over him and blackmailed him into becoming his accomplice. The stranger hung around the lobby of the Prudential Building and carefully selected his victims. He followed them and got to know their habits and their routines.
Justine and Sally had been easy prey because the two women were creatures of habit. But Penelope Cashmore was a totally different kettle of fish. She was high-born, moneyed and came from a prominent family. She actually owned four floors of the Prudential Building including the thirty-sixth floor where her late husband's law firm had their practice.
The stranger was crazy to take Penelope Cashmore; it was far too risky but the technician had no choice but to carry out his orders. The stranger held a sword of Damocles over his head and he could drop it at any time.
The technician watched the digital readout for the elevator which serviced the thirty-sixth floor. There was only one serviceable car because he had disabled the other and an 'out of service' sign hung on the entrance doors. The idiots in the lobby naturally assumed the technician was working on the faulty elevator.
The technician had been instructed to stop the elevator between floors before it reached the twelfth floor and to prevent it from stopping at any of the floors in between. Mrs Penelope Cashmore was at the mercy of the stranger but she had no idea of her fate.
The technician reread the text the message on his phone and sighed and watched the elevators car's descent on the digital readout. He made a switch inside the control panel and the elevator car containing the stranger and Penelope Cashmore shuddered to a halt and the remaining overhead lights extinguished.
