Chapter 2 Claustrophobic kitten-lover
On my last day, the day of the pitch meeting, Ms Boss came into the office completely transformed. She was by no means an ugly duckling to me, but now she was seriously living up to her surname. Instead of her pretty conservative business-look, she wore a tight-sitting blouse with a fairly good cleavage, a short but classy skirt with a slit up the back and the highest fuck-me-heels I had ever seen at an office. When I eyed her as she appeared before me, she got self-conscious, asking me whether the outfit would at all do the trick. She had heard that the CEO of the yacht company liked his business contacts of the opposite sex to be on the feminine side.
"Mission accomplished", I drooled, amazed by that body of hers that she had unfortunately not exposed previously. Her legs looked fantastic in those shoes and I just instinctly wanted to throw my arm around that wasp-like waist of hers and yank her towards me. Jasper had entered the room then, whistling enthusiastically at the sight, and I envied him for getting to spend the majority of his day with this hot, intelligent woman.
Now, several hours later, both Ms Swan and I were getting ready to leave the office, me for the last time. She looked so content, relieved that her prospect meeting seemed to have gone her way. We stepped into the elevator together.
"I can't thank you enough for your services. I think we nailed them. And you certainly helped!", she let out smiling. Her lips were covered in some tasty-looking red lipstick that I supposed she wore to match the shocking shoes of the day.
"Thank goodness, I was finally useful to some extent", I let out, rolling my eyes and we laughed. There was a moment of silence before the elevator came to an abrupt halt and the light went out.
At first, it was pitch black, my fellow elevator buddy letting out a yelp, but a soft emergency light soon came on. Isabella's eyes were locked on mine, full panic exuding from them.
"Oh, my god", she gulped, "I am seriously claustrophobic". I could see that she tried to swallow and seemed to be looking around for someplace to disappear. I tried to calm her by using the emergency phone, and she looked a little better as we got through to the other end. But when we were told that it might take a while for the staff to get there and let us out, she became fidgety again, pulling her fingers through that lovely mane of hair, making my knees all mushy.
This is ridiculous, Edward, you can't really be turned on by a woman scared shitless! She paced the little elevator space for few minutes, making me crazy, and then asked me to distract her.
"Please talk to me, about anything. Tell me what you do when you don't slave away at our office, making the secretaries wild."
She was apparently going nuts and her incessant pacing was making me walk down that same path, so I pulled her to me and dragged her down to sit between my legs on the elevator floor, pinning her down so that she wouldn't budge. I could see a panic attack coming up soon, and being a med student, I knew that a little physical contact and a little distractive conversation would in some cases be the trick. "OK, I'll talk", I said and inhaled. What was that intoxicating strawberry scent? How was I to concentrate on doing anything, when the woman I was holding smelled so great?
I reminded myself that she was the one signing my paycheck, and I got talking.
I told her that after my dad died three years ago, I had temporarily lost my foothold, had hated my med studies and left for Australia for a year. I had worked on a boat on the barrier reef, partying pretty hard, trying my best not to think of anything remotely serious. After tiring of that, I had ended up travelling to India and in the slums of Mumbai I had yet again found the reason for wanting to become a doctor.
"And here I am, back in NY, resuming my last year at med school in a few weeks time. I am really not naïve or sanctimonious enough to believe that I can change the world by being a doctor, but I might be able to do some sort of good to someone. But for the rest, I am a really selfish guy. Every hour possible, I indulge myself with a sailing trip with Esme, my precious gem of a boat. And a bowl of strawberries and cream make me sing of joy", I finished.
"Is that a good thing, you singing?", she asked.
"Actually, not necessarily, but I do an OK job of playing the piano. My mom forced me to lessons for 10 years, and now I am actually really grateful. What do you do when you're off the job?", I asked, realizing that she had indeed relaxed a bit in my arms as I had held my monologue. She was leaning on my chest and it felt surprisingly natural.
"I honestly don't have a life. Both my parents died in a car crash right before college and diving into Harvard and a load of work was the only way I could get through those years. Then, when I found out I was pretty good at business and all these important big company board guys sung my praise, I guess, it did something to my sense of belonging somewhere in the world. I haven't had a full weekend off since I was 18."
"I am so sorry about your parents. Losing one is bad enough", I offered, stroking her arm. When pulling my fingers across her forearm to divert her, I discovered a pretty nasty old scar above her wrist. I trailed the scar with my digit, asking her what had caused it. She shivered. I don't know whether it was from my touch or the bad memory. "The neighbor's Doberman didn't approve of me. I am more of a cat person, you know. I just love how they purr when you caress them."
"I have been known to purr pretty nicely, try me". Jesus, did that cheesy line just slip out of mouth? She must think I am such an idiot?
To my big surprise, she imitated me, stroking her small fingers gently up and down my arm, leaving little trails of pleasure, and I began purring in her ear. "Mmm, that does sound kind of cat-like", she said with a smile in her voice.
All of a sudden, the elevator jumped, and we quickly got to our feet. Then there was nothing. The thing didn't budge again. I could feel her subdued panic rising again, her eyes wandering from the emergency phone to mine and back and then they locked on mine again, with desperation. There was a bead of sweat on her upper lip and I just couldn't resist her. I launched forward, licking off her perspiration and then covering her full lips with mine. I had enough time to think that this was a serious mistake before she hungrily answered my move, pinning me toward the wall of the elevator, tying her fists in my hair.
Man, did she taste good! Her lips had parted, inviting my tongue to hers. I was holding her body tightly working one hand up her back, momentarily resting at the nape of her neck, trying to pull her face even closer to mine and then down to her firm ass. As I attempted to lift her skirt up somewhat to be able to wrap her leg around me, she moaned and yanked my shirt out of my pants. But of course, that was the extent of our hot encounter. The f***ing elevator was functioning again, and though my former boss, all flushed, lipstick smeared, had a hard time letting go of me instantly, I could sense that she was still extremely relieved getting out of this confined space.
The repair man looked indifferent to our disheveled look as we stepped out of the elevator. Maybe he had met hundreds of couples having made out in broken-down elevators. I didn't even have the good sense to feel embarrassed, I wanted her so much, but Isabella looked uncomfortable. Maybe, as Managing Director, she did not find it 100% appropriate to smooch one of her employees in the office elevator after all.
When reaching the pavement outside the building, she turned to me with at least half of her business composure again. "Thanks for distracting me, Edward, it really helped. Maybe a bit too well", she added, seeming to dwell on that a bit. A taxi approached and she raised her hand to stop it. "Sure, any time", was the only thing I could muster up. "Ms Swan", I said as I held the door open for her, trying not to show her too much how that I thought it was a serious mistake that she didn't want to finish what we had started. "Please, it's Isabella to you", she said, giving me an ambiguous smile, and then she was off.