by J. S. Luxor
Stripped to the waist
We fall into the river
Cover your eyes
So you don’t know the secret
I’ve been trying to hide
We held our breath
To see our names are written
On the wreck of ‘86
That was the year
I knew the panic was over
Yes, since we found out
Since we found out
That anything could happen
Anything could happen…
Tristan turns to me at the end of the piece and asks very directly, “Do you think anything can happen with us?”
“I don’t know. We’re poles apart Tristan,” I confess and look him in the eye. His eyes melt when I gaze up at him.
“I want something to happen. You have the most beautiful eyes, Joanna. I’m already getting lost in them,” he tells me while licking his lips. I look away and step back a bit further. Once again, I need to distract him. He looks offended at the space I’m putting between us.
“Do you play any sort of instrument, Tristan?” I ask as I pace toward the other side of the elevator.
“Just my IPod and my music’s mostly eclectic,” he offers and stares at me with rueful longing. “And you?”
“Only in my mind,” I giggle. He looks at me for a beat with a dejected expression on his face.
The elevator starts to gyrate again and tosses me around. I’m thrust over and into Tristan’s side then. He uses the opportunity to hold me tight and look into my eyes with concern until the rumbling settles down. I begin to move out of his embrace but he stops me from breaking the contact. He hugs me close as I look into his needy eyes.
“You’re driving me crazy, Joanna,” he admits and sighs as if he’s in pain. I swallow hard and look into his intense aquamarine gaze. I’m lost to him at that instant.
In the next second, I’m pushed against the side of our elevator by Tristan. He takes my hands and places them around his slim waist. His hips pin me to the wall. “Can I kiss you, Joanna, please?” he pleads with me. Wow, he’s hot when he begs.
“I…I can’t think when…when you ask me like that…,” I stutter but he’s no longer waiting for an answer.
He leans down and very gently kisses my mouth. He moans softly and then pulls back to look at my face. He’s testing my reaction. I smile shyly in response. He’s got the most amazing mouth. His lips are supple but firm and demanding. I love his scent and taste. It’s sweet and soothing.
“Was that good, Joanna?” he asks with burning aqua eyes that are full of uncertainty.
I can’t even manage a response. I nod my head yes and then move my arms from around his waist. I put each of my hands on his biceps then around his neck. They look so inviting and I’ve been wanting to touch his muscles. His arms wrap around my torso. He doesn’t seem to mind being close to me now. I squeeze him tight. He’s so firm and fit. Then, I return his kiss with a passion that surprises me.
I turn my head so that our noses won’t collide and push my full lips over his mouth. Before I know it, his teeth are pulling gently on my fleshy lips. I allow the sensations to wash over me. Every nerve in my body responds to the stimulation of my mouth with his. My breathing becomes labored, as does Tristan’s. We kiss for several seconds before each of us steps back to catch our breath.
“That was amazing,” I admit at last. His megawatt smile and wink let me know that he’s pleased.
“You don’t know how happy our kiss makes me,” he responds. “It’s just magic.”
“I’d like to try that again,” I add with an enthusiasm that speaks volumes.
“With pleasure, Joanna,” he chants while moving me quickly into the corner of our elevator again. “Just one request, please. Put your arms around me. I need to feel your touch.” What’s that about?
“Alright, although, I like holding your arms and putting my hands around your neck,” I add, “is that also okay?”
“Yes, Joanna. It’s more than okay. I really like your hands on my body. Have no doubt about that,” he huffs out with desire.
In the next second, his tongue invades my mouth and mine meets his with an energetic twist. We’re almost engaged in a wrestling match inside my head. I love it. We make out breathlessly for a few minutes more. Then his lips find my chin and work their way down my neck to the collarbone. Each individual kiss sets my skin on fire. I move my head around while he begins to lick my neck. He’s really getting into this make out session and I’m enjoying every inch of our contact. Too bad earthquakes don’t happen more often, while I’m trapped in one with a gorgeous man.
“You have the most alluring scent, Joanna,” he remarks when he finally pauses from our sexy as sin kiss.
“You too, Tristan. I love the way you taste. Now it’s my turn to explore you,” I announce and give him my most enthusiastic smile. He raises his eyebrows in approval.
“Please. I like your reciprocity,” he comments with burning lust in his aqua eyes.
I had no idea how much I would enjoy French kissing someone that I wanted like Tristan. Our contact feels otherworldly. I decide to mimic his moves. I start by pulling his head up from the base of my neck. His eyes have glazed over and he licks his lips when I look into his face. My hands find their way into his thick head of sandy colored hair. I pull gently on his hair while moving my fingers from his scalp to the tips of his strands. He looks into my eyes with absolute satisfaction in his.
Next, I begin to taste his sculpted face. He closes his amazing eyes while I kiss each lid with affection. I work my way toward his cheekbones and then finally begin to taste his chiseled jaw with my engorged mouth. He’s sighing with pleasure. When I finish worshipping his face with my mouth, I move back to look at his reaction. He’s flushed and excited. I want to eat him; he’s delicious.
“This is so much better than what I imagined,” he manages to huff out, “and what I imagined was truly phenomenal. It’s hard to believe that you don’t have a boyfriend, Joanna.”
“It’s true though. I’m a bit sheltered; I don’t kiss men very often. But, I had no idea what I was missing Tristan. Our make out session is so much fun,” I add with a blush.
“Fun? I hope it’s more than that, Joanna. You’re really quite innocent about sex then,” he comments with deep tone in his voice and a smirk, “but you’re doing a great job with your mouth. I really like the fact that you’re not very experienced at this game.”
I gush at the praise he’s given me. Does he like the fact that I’m an innocent because he wants to be the first to have me or because he has no competition, or both?
“Yeah, I have very little sexual experience, Tristan,” I admit with burning cheeks, “but I think kissing you is a great way to learn and to pass the time here, while we also get to know each other.”
His face lights up like a flashbulb, “This is our first date then. My day just keeps getting hotter all the time, Joanna. I hope we’ll know each other so much better when we’re done here,” he admits with a boyish grin. Then his arms pull me into a warm embrace and we cling to each other. My arms snake around his waist again. Tristan seems to like that sort of touch.
“So what are the lyrics to Love in an Elevator? I ask as we snuggle together in the corner.
“I don’t remember all of them but what came into my mind was this,” he begins and sings the chorus.
Love in an elevator
Livin’ it up when I’m goin’ down
Love in an elevator
Lovin’ it up ‘til I hit the ground.
His vocals sound pitch perfect, of course. “I hope we’re not going to fall to the earth in this thing,” I cry as tears spring into my eyes, “my life is just starting.”
“We’ll be alright, Joanna. There’re brakes running along the sides of the chute that’ll keep us from falling too far,” he assures me and kisses my brow. “I’ll keep you safe, baby.” I cling to him and look into his eyes for help. He’s delig
hted that I’m hugging him for all I’m worth.
In the next instant, we hear the sound of a cable tapping on the top of our elevator. A small door at the top of the unit vibrates. Then Tristan’s phone starts to signal.
“Bailey. Then that tapping sound on the ceiling of our elevator is our lifeline?” he listens for a bit to the latest update while I remember my bladder. I have to go to the bathroom so bad. When Tristan clicks off, he tells me some disturbing news.
“My crew thinks we’ll be jammed in this elevator for quite a while, Joanna. When the quake shook the building, it tilted us at a forty-five degree angle in the chute. Getting the lift straightened up involves renting a large hoisting device that’s in Los Angeles. Bringing it from there to here will take days. We don’t want to stay here for days,” he explains with the precision of a commanding CEO.
“I won’t have a bladder left in a few hours,” I joke. “Is there some fix that’s reasonable?”
“Yeah, Joanna, the emergency rescue team thinks the two of us will be able to get out of here by holding on to that cable we just heard scraping against the ceiling. They’ve already lowered the cable from the top floor to our chute. That’s the tapping sound. Since we’re no more than twenty feet from the top of the building, we shouldn’t have any trouble either shimmying up the line, or getting hoisted up by the crew while hanging on to the cable.” He seems to find the plan very reasonable and he’s enthusiastic about using the line.
I’m feeling really queasy by now, “What? I don’t know about that.” Visions of my less than graceful moves in gym class haunt me. I’ve never been very physical or athletic not like Tristan apparently seems to be.
He smiles to reassure me. “However, they want us to wait until the aftershocks settle down. If one hits while we’re being hoisted to safety, we could go plunging down and really hurt ourselves,” he explains with caution and then kisses my nose.
“When will the aftershocks settle down?” I ask with a shaking voice. Since I’m not known for my athleticism or coordination, I have no desire to shimmy up a cable, although I won’t mind holding onto Tristan while they pull us up. Unlike Tristan, I feel zero enthusiasm about the prospect of leaving here by cable.
“No one can say for sure but at least until the quakes start measuring about 3.5 or less. In the meantime, Joanna, they’re going to send us a care package via the cable. It’ll include food, toilet bags, thermal blankets and pillows,” he tells me with a proud grin.
“Does that mean we’ll have to remain here overnight?” I ask with growing concern. This could get out of control quickly, given my raging hormones and his obvious desire for me.
“I’m afraid so,” he states with mock horror. I look into the face of the gorgeous man I’ve just spent twenty minutes making out with and snuggling. He smiles like a villain. Things can only get more complicated from here on in. I’m determined to hold the line.
Chapter Four – Three Hours and More
The care packages the rescue crew sends us are more than I could have hoped for. I guess that’s because I expected something very basic. Since Tristan Grant leases this building and pays the salaries of the rescue team, they seem to have thought of everything. Or, maybe Tristan’s been texting them with requests.
In any case, the first small basket that arrives contains the basics of a curtained privacy stall for an indoor privy along with plastic toilet bags that contain odor absorbent sponges for urine and a sort of clay, akin to cat litter, for poop. Who knew I’d ever be so thrilled to have a small shower-sized stall to use for my most personal business? We can even send up the used bags in the basket to remove the odor. Woo Hoo! We set the ‘bathroom’ up in one of the corners. Tristan looks relieved to see it. He’s probably been worried about me losing it and maybe feeling the need too.
“Happy to see the makeshift restroom, Joanna?” he chuckles with an adorable twist to his mouth. My guess is that he’s more than happy for both of us.
“You got that right. I’ve hardly been able to think of anything else,” I announce as I grab a toilet bag and disappear inside the curtain. “Now if you’ll turn on some music and head to the opposite corner, I’d like to give this baby a test drive.” He nods his agreement.
Tristan selects a song by Pink entitled “So What” and it’s loud enough to mask the embarrassing sounds I’m making. I feel like a new woman after I wipe my hands with Purell antibacterial sheets and then turn the space over to him.
The basket also contains bottles of water and bags of already heated meals such as sesame chicken with noodles and beef stew. These are the same type of bagged meals that I sell to the campers at Dayton’s. If the crew is taking requests, I already know which meals are best – at least from the feedback we get at the store. All the campers need to do is heat the water, pour it into the bag and wait five minutes. The rescue crew sends our meals down in a warm, ready to eat condition with utensils. I could get used to this kind of service very easily. Now I see the benefits of being wealthy.
“These guys deserve a raise,” Tristan declares as we finish off our two bags of food. We’re seated on two separate piles of blankets and pillows at this point. I fill the original basket up with all of our trash and send it back up via the cable. I give Tristan a flirtatious smile when I’m done with the task. His aquamarine eyes shine with pleasure and desire at my signal. It certainly doesn’t take much to get him stoked. I love the power I possess over him at the moment. Tonight should be interesting, if not downright delicious.
“It’s amazing how precious the simplest things in life seem when you’re deprived of them for a few hours,” I reflect and gush with pleasure. Satisfying our food and bathroom issues seems like an easy way to make my day in this elevator. Of course, making out with Tristan is the cherry on top.
I’ve been lucky to share the experience with a gorgeous millionaire who, at the moment, seems to want me. Am I next on his menu? I think I have to finesse my situation carefully. All I know is that I’m enjoying the lessons he’s teaching me. I wonder what Ashley would make of my moves with Tristan.
“Is there anything else you want the crew to send down before we bed down for the night?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.
“Since I work at Dayton’s, I know there’s one thing that both of us will find helpful tonight,” I begin in a serious tone. I’m going to impress him with more of my job smarts.
He interrupts, “Could that be…condoms?” he snorts while I turn beet red. I know what’s on his mind and, of course, it’s also been on mine. It breaks the spell for me, however.
“That’s very arrogant of you, Grant, don’t push your luck! So, I think we should sleep in separate corners tonight,” I snap back. He’s hornier than I am. I detect a rueful expression on Tristan’s face when he sees my blushing face. At least he has the decency to look remorseful about his remark.
I wonder if there’s anything that would make him blush. And then, I remember how needy he is about being held. Is he psychologically damaged in some way? Has he suffered a loss that requires a lot of reassurance? I hope I’ll discover the truth tonight. Maybe I’ll be allowed to massage him and that great looking butt. So I decide to push on and forgive him for being too forward.
“What I was going to suggest, before your rude and crude interruption, was to ask the crew for two self-inflating mattresses. They’re thin, light and can be easily deflated and rolled up. Sleeping on this hard tiled floor won’t be easy with all the shaking. The veteran campers swear by them. I can recommend the best brand.”
Tristan calls Bailey and makes our request along with an order to send us some sweats and a change of clothes including underwear. “What’s your size, Joanna – in everything?” he barks out. Normally I’d be reluctant to share my personal stats but, under the circumstances, I quickly give him the information. Then we settle down to wait. It’ll be a couple of hours before they arrive.
After dinner, we both spend some time texting others about our situation.
Tristan seems to be conducting some business via his IPhone as well. I wonder how long our phones will be viable. Then again, maybe the rescue crew can recharge them while we sleep. I love that basket and cable arrangement. The earthquake’s aftershocks continue to rumble our little corner of the universe. I wonder how other people are coping throughout the San Diego area.
As our evening unfolds, the temperature falls and the elevator shaft becomes quite drafty. I use the toilet area as a changing room. I put on warm sweats and some socks that have arrived by now then wrap myself in one of the blankets. It feels comfy. Tristan follows my lead. It feels great to remove my borrowed clothes. Ashley’s wrinkled and increasingly grimy outfit will never be the same. I put all of our dirty clothes in a bag and send them up and away. I could get used to this level of service. Tristan probably expects that and more from others but doesn’t even realize how easy he has it.