AN: Hi everyone! My muse finally awoke. I don't know what witch cursed her to sleep for so many years, but I'm glad she's back. :)

This story is written quite far ahead, but that doesn't mean I don't want reviews and feedback. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments. I am following my muse, and she has led me in some strange directions, but I have an overall idea of where this story is going. I am hoping to publish a couple of times a week, so I'll see how I go.

This story is inspired by a German-language film I saw in the 80's called 'Abwärts'. If you can ever find it, it's worth a watch. Really good building tension and a great twist at the end. Anyway, ever since I have been fascinated by the notion of people meeting in a tense situation of a stuck elevator. So, of course, I had to put S&R in that situation! It's an AU on how they met. Babe all the way.

I hope you enjoy. This first chapter is pretty short, but they get longer as we get into the story.

Disclaimer: I'm only going to put this once at the beginning, because honestly, everyone on FF knows I don't own these characters! Thanks to JE for letting me play.

Chapter 1

I stepped miserably onto the elevator. Another day, another failure. I had been laid off from EE Martin four months ago, and despite working temp jobs, my savings and independence were wearing thin. And every interview went the same.

Suspicion… the company where I'd worked for five years was being investigated by the FBI.

Coolness… I couldn't provide references from potential felons.

Disinterest… a mediocre degree and suspect experience ordering bloomers and cotton bras didn't endear me to any employer.

"Hi, my name is Stephanie Plum and I am not a criminal. I'm also not in the mob. Yes, I know the company I worked for is being investigated for mob money laundering, but I wasn't involved. I just bought lingerie for housewives and grannies and sent the invoices to accounting."

Trust me, it's not a spiel that anyone wants to listen to.

I had started out looking for jobs with career potential, then I looked for jobs with stability, now I was just looking for a job. Any job. Any job that would mean I could stay in my crappy seventies apartment with my hamster, and not have to move back home with She Who Must Express Her Displeasure.

Not have to listen to my father and grandma fight over the bathroom in the morning, since he wants to sit there for two hours doing God alone knows what, and her bladder might explode by then.

Any job. At all.

I had looked in Trenton, where I live. I had looked in Newark, where I had worked previously. I had looked at Point Pleasant, because wouldn't it be great to sit on the beach to eat lunch? I had even looked in Atlantic City, but I had no marketable skills for a casino town. Unless I wanted to start hooking I guess, and no matter how much I did not want to move home, I think it would probably be better than that. I hope.

I didn't have a lot of confidence I could pull the hooker thing off anyway. Sure, I'm not bad to look at. I have curly dark brown hair to my waist and nice blue eyes. My skin is clear, and I have even teeth when I smile. I am only about five pounds more than I'd like to be, so my figure isn't too awful either. OK, my b-cups don't scream sexy mama, but I could wear a push-up bra right?

No, it's not the looks that worry me about the hooking thing, it's more the sexual confidence. Or rather, the lack of sexual confidence. My ten-minute fling with Joe Morelli on the floor of the Tasty Pastry, my fumbling encounters with my college boyfriend, and my eleven week marriage to The Dick had not exactly given me a broad range of sexual experience. Especially since The Dick was so busy sticking it to every skank around town that he didn't have much energy to be adventurous with me. Or so I found out.

So yeah, the hooking thing seems like a stretch. I was willing to try some things, but honestly the thought of trying them with a sweaty, smelly stranger was pretty off-putting. And there's no way I'm doing any butt stuff. Uh-uh, exit only! But if the hooker thing is off the table, what am I supposed to do?

Not sure where to look next, maybe New York? But it's too far to commute from Trenton and I can't afford to live in NYC, or even near it. And, let's face it, I couldn't convince a two-bit financial advisor in Newark, whose clientele probably hung out with the EE Martin scum, to hire me as a part-time receptionist. I doubt any employer in New York is going to be jumping up and down to hire me.

I sighed and huddled against the vinyl-sided wall of the elevator. The financial company was on the fifth floor of an old and slightly run-down building. It isn't the best part of Newark, but it isn't the worst. EE Martin had been about five blocks away. The elevator matched the building, pretty old and slightly run-down. I was just thankful the elevator was working now. When I had arrived for the interview, it had had an out-of-order sign and I had to trudge up the four flights of stairs, arriving barely on time, breathless and sweaty in the Jersey heat.

The air conditioning didn't seem to be working very well either, so my sweaty brow and damp curls had lasted through the interview with the disapproving and unimpressed matriarch who had said she was Mr Klondike's and Mr Fleming's secretary. I sighed again. If you could call it an interview. The pursed-lipped perusal of my resume and the five, yes five, curt questions barely lasted eleven minutes. It was quickly obvious I wasn't going to be offered the job, despite the "thank you and we'll let you know" finale.

Forty-seven interviews and no job. Yes, I had kept count. Forty-seven obviously wasn't my lucky number. I didn't have much hope that forty-eight would be either.

The doors of the elevator finally started to close. I was beginning to wonder if the elevator was still not working, so I was somewhat relieved. I hate stairs. Just as they had almost closed though, a hand slid into the gap, and they reopened. I sighed again.

In my misery and self-flagellation, I barely paid attention to the man who joined me in the elevator. I noted peripherally that he was tall, well-built, and dark-haired, and I caught a faint scent that was pleasant and appealing. Absently, I thought he was lucky he could still smell nice and his cologne could outlast the Jersey heat. I hoped my deodorant was doing the same. I had learned early on not to wear perfume to my interviews. The fourth interview, the accountant had kept coughing, sniffing, and glaring at me. The sixteenth interview had been worse. I had been shown the door immediately and told the office manager was allergic to perfumes. I stopped wearing anything more than a lightly scented deodorant.

The other perception that barely brushed my awareness was that he appeared to be equally as unhappy as I was, although he seemed angrier and more frustrated to my gloom and discouragement. But aside from that I didn't pay much attention.

We waited in our separate mood bubbles for the doors to close again. Seriously, it took like two full minutes. My companion looked like he was just about to step back out of the doors when they finally started to slide shut. He turned away from me and leaned a shoulder against the wall as the elevator very slowly began to descend.

It stopped again about 30 seconds later, on the fourth floor. Though I could not imagine why since nobody got on and neither of us moved to get off. The doors went through their interminable delay to close again, and I sensed that my fellow occupant's frustration rose even higher. I hoped he wasn't going to blow his top at me, after all it was hardly my fault. The only button I had pressed was the lobby button. Well, before he got into the elevator, I also pressed the close door button about twenty times, but like most elevators, that button seemed to be only for show. Or maybe to make you feel like you might get the door to close.

Finally, they started to slide shut again. I just hoped they weren't going to do this on every floor. I was pretty sure my companion would leave the elevator if it stopped again, and I was sorely tempted to join him. Even hating stairs, this was too annoying and tedious.

With a jerk and a shudder, the elevator started to descend again.

With a much bigger jerk, it suddenly started to fall. Fall fast. Very fast. Drop like a stone fast. I couldn't help it and I screamed in sudden terror.