Kathy Lyons - Taking Care of Business

What to do? What to do? She didn’t know, but for the first time in months, she stopped thinking about her company slowly going belly-up. She stopped worrying about how she would pay her next bill or drum up her next contract. Her entire mind was absorbed with feeling a strange man against her backside. A well-endowed strange man.

And in that moment, a bizarre sense of daring hit her. After all, no one could see what was happening. They were shoved into the back corner, completely anonymous and yet completely intimate. Without her even planning it, biology took over. She allowed herself to drop a little farther back onto Mr. Coverall, and then she squeezed. Yup. Right there. She squeezed him for all she was worth.

She heard his gasp of shock and had to work to cover her smile. Good lord, had she just molested a perfect stranger? Apparently so because as the doors pulled open, she felt an answering pressure from him. Was he thrusting against her? Oh. My. God! She was both excited and appalled by the situation. And turned on like she hadn’t been in months.

And then, damn it, the ride was over. They had arrived at the seventeenth floor. Julie stepped forward because she had to. She didn’t even dare look behind her to see his face. Was his as red as hers? Was what they’d just done written on the blush that she knew was staining her cheeks?

She followed Harry to the law office, handed off the box to another first-year, and then headed to her own suite. Web Wit and Wonder was her very own advertising firm, started with best friend and brilliant graphic artist, Karen Wilson. Unfortunately, it was going under. That was why she’d worn this dress today. So she could bolster her confidence as she tackled one last bid for a contract. Except now, all she could think about was Elevator Man and how she’d.

“Good morning!” called Karen as Julie entered their office suite. “I brought muffins …” Her voice trailed away as she looked at her friend. “And my, don’t you look flushed today.”

Hell. There was no fooling Karen’s eagle eye. “Um. Yeah. I think I need some coffee.” Julie set down her purse and went straight for the cappuccino machine. Everything else in their office was stripped down to the bare essentials. But this lovely thing was an office-warming present from her parents. Sadly, that hadn’t been all they’d given her. They’d also loaned her money to start the business. And if Web Wit and Wonder didn’t get a new contract soon, that debt was going to go unpaid.

“Come on, Julie. What happened?”

Julie sighed. She knew she’d never get to work if she didn’t tell her friend the truth. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “Just, well, something happened in the elevator.”

She told Karen it all. Everything in glorious detail so she could relive the thrill of it. She’d never been someone to go for anonymous sex, much less today’s weird elevator fondle, but there was something so thrilling in what she’d done. As if she were suddenly scandalous or incredibly daring. It had just been a butt squeeze in a full elevator, but right then, she felt like she’d walked on the dark side. And Karen, bless her, found it just as exciting.

“You have to do it again!” Karen pressed.

“No!” Julie countered. “Besides, how could I?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I get crammed into elevators all the time. You just have to keep an eye out for your guy and make sure to—”

“What I’m going to do is focus on this campaign. Our proposal has to be perfect.”

Karen paused a moment, then huffed in disgust. “Fine, fine. All work and no play makes you a dull girl.”

Julie bit her lip, wondering just how much of the dollar and cents her artistic partner understood about their company. “Um, you know, I was going over our books last night and the picture—”

“I know,” Karen interrupted, holding up her hand to silence her friend. “Well, I don’t know the exact figures, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Julie nodded. There was nothing more to say to that. Except, perhaps, that they would get through this. “We’re going to put together a kick-ass proposal. We’re going to be brilliant.”

“And we’re going to win this contract,” Karen echoed with confidence. “I just know it.”

Seven weeks later …

“WE DIDN’T GET THE contract.” Julie stared at her laptop, her mind going numb. “We didn’t get it.”

Across the desk, Karen sighed and set down her sketchbook. Neither one of them had to say what they were thinking. They were both far from home, buried in debt, and as of five minutes ago, their company was dead. Bankrupt. Belly-up. Finito.

“This should have worked,” Julie said as she fell back in her chair and stared at the ceiling tiles. “I think and breathe advertising. You’re the best graphic designer there is. And together we know the internet like the back of our hands. We should be buried in accounts, not.” Dead broke.

Karen released another heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay, so this campaign didn’t work. It was brilliant, they’re idiots for not hiring us, but now we have to move on. So, what’s next?”

Julie didn’t answer. She didn’t have the heart to tell her best friend that after two years of scrimping and sweating and bleeding, she just didn’t have it in her to try again. She’d put everything into this last pitch: heart, soul, and her last borrowed dime. They’d failed anyway. They hadn’t gotten the account.

“My dad’s started a new bowling league,” she said, still talking to the ceiling tiles.

“In Nebraska?” Karen snorted. “You hate Nebraska!”

She hated starving, too. And being homeless. Which she would soon be since she couldn’t pay any more rent on her tiny apartment or on this cramped office space.

“Come on, Julie. Usually you’re the one with six more possibilities lined up, just in case. So what’s next? What have you got up your sleeve?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “Absolutely nothing. We’re done.”

Karen was silent for a long time, clearly absorbing the finality of that while Julie tried hard to not think of returning to Nebraska, suitcase in hand. How did she tell her family that her plan to make it big—the one she’d talked about since she was twelve years old—had ended up in a huge pile of debt?

“Okay, I’ve got a new plan,” Karen said firmly. “I think you should get laid.”

Julie lifted her head to stare at her friend. “What?”

“I’m serious. You’ve been working nonstop for months. Years, even. Too much tension stops the flow of qi.”

“What?”

“Your energy, your power. And nothing else opens up the qi like a good—”

“Karen! You can’t possibly think that sex is an answer to bankruptcy.” There. She’d said the word aloud.

Her friend shook her head. “We’re not closed yet. We’ve got almost a month left for you to think of something brilliant. But you won’t think of anything with your qi all clogged.”

Julie didn’t answer. Her friend was being silly as a way to lighten the mood. It was sweet really, but some things couldn’t be changed regardless of her state of qi.

Karen leaned forward, dropping her elbows onto Julie’s desk. “When was the last time you saw Elevator Man?”

Julie nearly choked. Gawd, she should never have told her friend about him. Especially since the elevator seven weeks ago had only been the first incident. They’d had approximately one anonymous encounter a week since then. And that was nothing compared to her nighttime fantasies. Who’d have thought that she would become obsessed with elevator sex? But she had. She didn’t know whether her fantasies were fueling her forays into the scandalous or the reverse, but whatever the reason, she’d been unable to stop herself from orchestrating increasingly sexual encounters with the hunky janitor.

Their second time had been in another jam-packed elevator, but this time she’d gotten in first. She hadn’t even been sure it was him except that his general height and build were the same. He was about six foot and lean in those blue denim coveralls. His hair was rich brown, all curly and shaggy, and his shoulders broad. As she’d stared at his dark, dark brown eyes, she’d wondered: are you him? Are you the first man to touch me in forever?

He hadn’t answered, of course. But he’d inhaled deeply, and she’d thought about her perfume. Was he smelling the sandalwood she liked to dab on her wrists? Or the minty herb of her shampoo? Did he know what she was thinking?

She’d smiled at him, then. Something in her had taken over and she’d flashed her best come-hither smile. He’d seen it. His gaze zeroed in on her lips. But he didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything. If anything, his eyes had gone impersonal and vague.

Her ego had crashed. This wasn’t her elevator man. Or if it was, he wasn’t interested in her. She had been stunned by the pain of that. The disappointment had cut deep, probably because she’d built so many erotic daydreams about him. She’d just been biting back a sigh when he reached forward to press the button for his floor.

Top floor. No biggie. Except on his way to the panel, he’d brushed across her right breast. It could have been an accident. After all, there were a dozen people crammed into the elevator. There was hardly space to breathe, much less reach for a button. But he had brushed her breast and her nipple reacted with a nearly painful point.

And on the way back from pressing the button, he’d done it again. Or perhaps she had “accidentally” pushed forward so that he had no choice but to caress her hard nipple. That was it for Encounter 2.

Encounter 3 came the next week, this time on the way down to the garage. Half-packed elevator, close quarters, but she’d been wearing a suit jacket so there was no accidental nipple brushing. But Elevator Man was nothing if not innovative.

He’d murmured, “Excuse me, excuse me,” as he maneuvered to stand right in front of her. Then he knelt down to open an access panel beneath the floor buttons. Everyone had shifted to accommodate him. Everyone, that is, except her because his position on the floor left his elbow pressed to her mons.

Oh, God, it had felt so good. Pressure. A circular rub. The garage floor had come too soon, and she’d been too chicken to stay. That night’s fantasy, however, had involved an empty elevator stuck between floors. It was only after encounters five and six that she migrated to a glass one at the top of the Eiffel Tower. She was pressed up against the glass while he did her hot and hard in front of the whole of Paris.

Yes, she was depraved, but perhaps that was the thrill of it. He was always polite, always gentle, and he stopped the moment the elevator did. But he made her feel like she was the hottest woman on the planet, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. She knew the shape of his body, the scent of his hair and the feel of his cock through a thousand encounters both real and imagined. And she couldn’t wait until it happened again.

And now, here was Karen asking for the details. “This last one was, um, the best,” she said, her face heating to crimson. “He stepped up behind me, pulled my hips back against his, and then …”

“Yes? What?”

Julie bit her lip. “His hand slid forward to, um, cup me. God, he has the best hands—big and strong.”

“Oh, my God! What did you do?”

Julie closed her eyes, unable to look at her friend in the face as she confessed this. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I just, well, enjoyed it.” But she’d thought about more. She’d thought about spreading her legs and giving in. She wanted to. She’d wanted to for weeks now, but she was too chicken. What if he told someone? What if he told a client? Of course, that wasn’t a problem now. There were no more clients—potential or otherwise. Meanwhile, she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her. God, it made her twist in hunger just thinking about it. It was a wonder she didn’t combust right here.