Going Down: The Elevator Series (10 page)

“Did he now? Maybe I should come in and have a chat with him. Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Oh, he is for sure. To make matters worse, he’s devilishly handsome. And his hands… Well, don’t get me started on what he can do with his hands.”

“You’re the only woman who’s ever made me jealous of myself. Listen, beautiful, I don’t want to keep you. I know you’re tired. I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I gave up on cleaning the stain off my pajama top when it only smeared into a giant pinkish glob and crawled under the covers of my bed. “Don’t be silly. I’m glad you called. It’s nice to hear your voice before I slip into dreamland.”

“Sweet dreams, Cici.”

“Goodnight, Cole.”

My dreams that night were filled with elevators, blue eyes, strong hands, staplers, and panty-melting kisses. It was a good night.

***

“No, Maggie, I haven’t forgotten.” I let out an audible huff into the phone. “It wouldn’t even be possible to forget since you remind me at least eight times a day. I promised to help you fulfill your big rig fantasies, and I have every intention of following through. I know we’re at T minus one day and counting until we get murdered at a truck stop.” I darted across the street on the heels of some fellow pedestrians. Maggie and I often walked to work together in the morning via our cell phones.

“Well, excuse me for being thorough. I thought it would be nice to see this often overlooked slice of Americana, but if you’re more concerned about being murdered, then I can’t help you.”

Maggie had a full day of activities planned for us on Saturday. She’d been in full Velma research mode for months. A CB radio had been purchased, but that turned out to be a complete bust. The one person she chatted up was not legally allowed to venture more than two miles from his domicile. Regrettably for me, she was back to gleaning all her trucker knowledge from bad eighties movies and TV shows. Away from the office she’d started exclusively wearing gingham button-downs tied at the midriff. Her personal shopper at Barneys was none too happy to start fielding those requests.

“Don’t forget to call me Maggie Mae,” she reminded me. “I don’t want them to think I’m some yuppie city girl.”

“Maggie, you
are
some yuppie city girl. You have lived in the Upper East Side your whole life. You’ve never even set foot inside a public school. You might have forgotten, but your picture was actually on Urban Dictionary for two whole days next to ‘Rich White Girl’.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she groaned. “I still have indentations from the prep school knee socks. Are you sure you can’t play hooky today and scout out some of the rest stops?”

I edged past a tourist wheeling a large suitcase. “You know I have a full day, Maggie.”
Of groping my assistant.

“I really wanted to test my theory on the weekday drivers versus the weekend crew,” she whined.

“Maggie, have I ever told you that whining is not an attractive quality? I think I’ve made enough concessions. I’ve agreed to this absurd expedition and to let you pick my outfit. I’d like to retain what little semblance of dignity I have remaining.”

My phone buzzed and I saw Elevator Sex God across the screen. “Mags, that’s my other line. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the office.”

“Roger that. Over and out.”

I clicked over to Cole before she could goad me into responding.

“Hi,” I answered with a lift in my voice. Suddenly I was fourteen again, reveling in the novelty of a boy calling me.

“Good morning, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

I opened my mouth to respond in kind, and stopped dead in my tracks, thunderstruck that I really
had
missed him. I’d known him for less than two days, and my brain had already filed the lack of his presence under Do Not Like. It wasn’t until I was nearly knocked down by a man in a sport coat that I realized I’d broken the cardinal rule of New York: Do not stop moving. Ever.

“Cici? Are you still there? Hello?”

“Yes! I’m here. I missed you, too. I can’t wait to see you again. Did you have a good night with your friends?”

“Well, it was no comparison to the night prior, but I had fun nonetheless. Speaking of, I was wondering if you had plans tonight. I would love to see you outside the confines of a boring office building.”

“I did have plans with some guy I met on a stalled escalator last week, but I can cancel on him. Especially since I’ll probably be in a shallow grave by Saturday afternoon.” I looked to my left just as a taxi clipped a bike messenger.

“Ah, you’re still going with Maggie to the truck stop?”

“I am. She’s insistent upon carousing with strangers who could potentially be serial killers or part-time clowns. I can’t let her go on her own. It’s part of the Girl Code or something. If I don’t return, please remember me fondly.”

“We should probably do something special since this might be your last night on earth. How about dinner at Chambre Rouge at seven?”

I rounded the corner and saw Gramercy Park ahead. “You mean the French restaurant a couple of blocks from where we work?” I hesitated. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. How about we order takeout instead? You can come over to my place.”

“Ms. Carrington, you little vixen. Inviting me over to your apartment so soon? And here I thought you were a nice girl.” Cole played coy worse than I did.

“I think at this point you know I’m a foregone conclusion. You play your cards right and you’ll get lucky tonight.”

“You don’t need luck when you’ve got skill, Cici.” I could tell he was wagging his eyebrows, even though I couldn’t see him.

“Okay, cool it, mister. I’ll text you my address.”

“No need,” he replied. “I’ll pull it off your credit card statements when I do your expense report later.”

“There might be rules against that in the company handbook, Mr. Danvers.”

“I guess you’ll have to punish me then.” The timbre of his voice had my libido’s full attention. “I’m leaving my apartment now, so I should be in the office right behind you.”

I was hoping someone, somewhere was giving me bonus points for not making a lewd joke about Cole being behind me. “I’ll see you in a few then.”

Gene stood as I approached his bench. I held out an extra-large coffee as a peace offering. “Miss Cici, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I was worried about you.”

I sat down next to him and patted him on the knee. “I’m so sorry I missed our morning date yesterday. I had the craziest day.”

Gene looked closer at my face. He squinted, which emphasized his wrinkles. “You look different. You got yourself an admirer, didn’t you? Now you don’t need old Gene anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gene. Who would I ever find that could replace you?”

“Don’t you try to deny it! I can tell by the look in your eyes. You got a little…” He wagged his eyebrows and winked alternately. The message came across loud and clear.

“Gene! Don’t be crude. A lady doesn’t talk about such things.” I doubt ladies were taken up against elevator walls either, but that was neither here nor there.

“Oh, youth is wasted on the young! If I got me a little filly, I would tell the whole world. I would have a billboard in Times Square. You shouldn’t be ashamed.”

“I’m not ashamed.” I wasn’t. Embarrassed and horrified that I had shagged my subordinate, yes, but not ashamed. “It’s just not that simple.”

“Miss Cici, I’ve been on this earth for longer than my fair share, and one thing I’ve learned is that things are always a lot simpler than we make them.” He smiled before sipping his coffee and started a solo game of checkers, giving me my cue that he was done imparting wisdom.

I patted his knee as I got up. “You have a good day, Gene. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too, Miss Cici.”

***

I headed straight for the stairwell when I made it to my office building. I had no intention of riding that elevator ever again. I wouldn’t be able to make the eight-floor ascent without nervously laughing and blushing anyhow.

Somewhere around the third floor, I second-guessed my refusal to use the elevator. Perhaps I wasn’t in as good of shape as I’d led myself to believe. I stopped and had a short cry in the corridor of the sixth floor. By the seventh floor, I saw a bright light and heard my Nana’s voice, may she rest in peace. I lay down in front of the door to the eighth floor to compose myself and reapply half my makeup.

Rounding the corner to my office, I took in a scene for which nothing in my thirtyish years on this planet could ever prepare me. Mindi, from accounting, was lying face up on Cole’s desk, her legs in the air above her, with a two-hole punch between her knees. She squeezed and released it with her legs like a ThighMaster, while Cole stared at the ceiling.

“So, I get this part. It’s really working my inner thigh muscles. I just can’t get the paper in there to make the holes. Did yours come with instructions? Maybe if you hold the paper I can punch the holes.” She craned her neck to the side in an attempt to get Cole’s attention.

Frozen in disbelief, I watched her like a train wreck. That probably wasn’t even the best analogy for what was unfolding before me.

“So you started yesterday, huh?” She popped her gum while talking and flexing her thighs. Cole didn’t answer, his gaze locked on the ceiling. “They usually bring all the new people by and introduce them. I wonder why Cici didn’t bring you over to meet me. I’m going to talk to her about hogging the new man meat for herself.”

Cole started to hum to himself, ostensibly to drown out Mindi’s nasally monologue. She was undeterred.

“I think this is good for your abs, too. Sometimes, when no one’s watching—”

“That’s it!”

Mindi simultaneously jumped and tried to scramble off the desk, but only succeeded in falling to the floor.

“Jesus, Cici. I didn’t hear you come in. You should wear a cow bell or something.” She picked herself up and adjusted her skirt.

“And you should wear a muzzle. Cole, I need you in my office urgently. We have work to do.” I opened my door and he all but ran inside before Mindi could realize she had been insulted. I closed the door behind me and locked it.

“Where have you been?” He tossed up his hands. “I thought you got here before me. I didn’t know what to do.” He pointed accusingly at the door. “I’ve never seen anything like that!”

“I’m sorry. I got waylaid a bit. So now you’ve met Mindi, the office trollop. I would put on gloves and throw away that hole punch if I were you. I know where it’s been. She was one of the many people diddling my old boss.” I set my bag on my desk and straightened my dress.

“Should I barricade this door?” he asked, still wide-eyed. “Do you think she even knows how to work a door handle?”

“I’m so sorry, Cole. I swear, there must be something in the water here. I’ve seen pornos with actors who were less amped up about sex than the employees here.”
Present company definitely not excluded.

His head snapped up. “Tell me more about these pornos you watch.”

“Did I say pornos? Because I meant gritty art house films… on Pay-Per-View.” I laughed.

“I like a woman who’s a patron of the arts.” He closed the distance between us and pushed me against my desk. My breathing accelerated as he placed his hand behind my neck, pulling my lips to his. I wanted to get to know his mouth better than his own dentist. This kiss was slower, yet still full of need. He moved to knock everything off my desk, but I put my hand on his chest.

“Wait.” I tried to clear my head. “I want to be spontaneous and sexy, but I just finished reorganizing these files before I left yesterday. Do you think we could be spontaneous on the credenza instead?”

He laughed in return. “I don’t see why not. In fact, I have no problem trying out all the sturdy furniture.”

I grabbed his hand and walked him a few steps over to the credenza. “Hmm, how much weight do you think this thing holds?”

Cole pushed on the top, as if gauging it. “Would you rather I call the manufacturer or submit it to human trials?”

“Well, aren’t you thorough, Mr. Danvers?” I fumbled with his tie, loosening it, and tossing it to the ground. His shirt buttons were undone in record time.

“It’s my job to be thorough, Ms. Carrington.” He wagged his eyebrows like a cartoon character, and I couldn’t help but laugh. He untied my wrap dress, and I said a silent prayer of thanks for Diane von Furstenberg’s contribution to fashion. Cole slid my panties down my legs, methodically kissing his way back up. “I pride myself in being very… very thorough.”

I dug my hands into his hair, massaging his scalp. Cole paused in his ascent when he reached my bra. He pulled each cup down, taking time to lavish attention on my fully exposed breasts. “Speaking of thoroughness,” I half moaned. “Were you the one who synched my calendars to my phone yesterday?”

Cole looked up from between my cleavage and smiled his patented disarming smile. “I did indeed.” He went back to the task at hand.

I reached down for his belt buckle and asked between breaths, “When did you have time to do that?”

He moved his concentration up to my neck. “In the afternoon, when I had you bent over your desk, if you must know. I’m a
thorough
multitasker.”

His pants and boxer briefs pooled around his ankles, and I nudged him to lie on the credenza. “Damn, you’re gunning for employee of the month.” I awkwardly climbed on top of him and grimaced. “That looks uncomfortable. Are you going to be all right?”

He slipped his arms around my back and pulled me closer. “I’ll suffer through it, trust me.”

I nipped at his bottom lip. “Maybe I should put a couch in here,” I said absently.

His hands slid up the back of my thighs, gently pulling me into alignment with him. “Brilliant. I’ll order one today, and you’ll have it tomorrow.”

I stalled before lowing myself onto him. “I have to fill out a requisition form first. It will probably be a couple of weeks.”

“Fuck that. I’ll fucking pay for it myself,” he growled.

My delicate rose of delight must have had a thing for foul mouths, because I plunged down onto Cole before I registered my brain giving the order to do so. Mouths and hands were everywhere at once. There was no way I would last long at this angle. Not that I cared at that exact moment. Hell, I would probably cause Cole to slip a disk with the way I was riding him on this hard wooden surface.