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Subject: {ASSM} "Earthquake" Part 1 - by Kristen and Storysman (MF)
Date: Fri, 5 May 2000 23:11:08 -0400
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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: earth.txt (MF, nc/cons)
Authors name: Storysman (storysman@aol.com)
Kristen (kristen078@hotmail.com)
Story title : Earthquake
Last Edited 03/18/00 by Ian
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-= This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2000. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
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Earthquake Part 1 of 2
by Storysman and Kristen
The first thoughts entering Tom's mind on regaining
consciousness were hazy and almost completely dark.
His mind struggled to regain its strength against
the numbing, disorienting sensations currently
dominating him. He didn't know if he was dreaming,
or where he was. Only gradually did he realize that
his open eyes were detecting some light.
It was a dim light, coming from above. But where
was he? He shook his head, then suddenly remem-
bered. He was in an elevator. Panic surged through
him with the recollection.
He had stepped into an elevator, happy to see the
woman already inside it. The woman... Melissa...
yes, he remembered. Sweet Melissa, who worked in
the high-rise office and whom he had grown to
worship.
He had memorized her routine, and had often been
'lucky' enough to be in the elevator at the same
time as she was. On this occasion they hadn't
been in the lift more than a few seconds when...
an earthquake! Yes, the memory was clearer now!
The building had begun to shake, and the elevator
had started to fall. He remembered the terror
that had leapt into him and the helplessness he'd
felt. He couldn't recall every detail of the
event, only Melissa's panicked screams, and that
he'd feared for his life. And then...
Tom looked around him, and figured out what must
have happened. The elevator had dropped all the
way, or was stuck. The building had collapsed on
top of them, knocking out all power other than
the emergency light. But he was alive! He'd
survived!
He didn't know if it was safe to move, but knew
he had to get out somehow. He felt his body jump
with urgency. Who knew whether or not the
building would collapse any further? Who knew if,
or when, a rescue crew might find him? He started
to get up, but fell back down clumsily.
He shook his head again, hoping to regain some
mobility, and he now realized there was something
soft underneath him. Something human. Could it be
Melissa?
Tom looked down at the unconscious body while his
brain continued to clear. It WAS Melissa!
They'd never exchanged more than an artificial,
uncomfortable "hello," but Tom knew her very
well. He had long memorized her features: her
thick, flowing, black hair and greenish eyes;
her slim, well-developed frame, accentuated by
elegant business attire. She always dressed
professionally, and sometimes that was more
maddeningly arousing than if she'd strolled
into work in a bikini.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as
he looked at, and felt, the unconscious female
body. None had anything to do with the rational,
survival-oriented nature that had been uppermost
a minute before.
They were all of her, of Melissa, of the wonder-
ful body pressed tightly between the elevator
floor and Tom's own flesh. Her body... his
body... trapped, and alone together. But was she
alive?
A shock of dread raced through him at the
thought. She had to be! She just had to be! A
mixture of relief and excitement overwhelmed
him on feeling her breast flutter against his.
She was alive!
He moved to give her a little more room. This
allowed her lungs to take in more air, and soon
she was breathing regularly, creating the in-
credible sensation, for him, of her full, soft
breasts rhythmically pressing against his chest.
He attempted to sit up, to examine her more fully
in the dim emergency light. "Ahh!" His head
banged against something hard after moving just a
few inches.
Tom ducked his head, and looked around carefully.
The elevator hadn't fared well in the fall. The
ceiling was split open by a series of beams that
ran across the elevator space close to the floor,
leaving about two-and-a-half feet of headroom,
insufficient either to sit up in or to maneuver
in an attempt to escape. For the moment, however,
it was enough for Tom to look at Melissa...
She was strikingly beautiful, even now. Her lips
were red with lipstick, and slightly parted as
her body drew breath. There were several smudges
on her cheeks, but they only added to the sweet-
ness of her face.
When she was in the elevator with him, Tom had
wanted to spend all his time looking at her. Of
course he couldn't; it wouldn't have been appro-
priate. She would have noticed him absorbing her
charms, and might not have reacted well.
But now her eyes were closed and her mind uncon-
scious, as if pleasantly sleeping at home in bed.
He looked at her chest. She was wearing a dark
jacket, the color hard to tell in the dim light.
A silver, satiny blouse was partly visible under-
neath, with a few buttons undone to hint at
exciting cleavage. He looked at her waist area,
where the dark fabric of her skirt merged into
the cloth of his own shirt.
He suddenly smiled at his situation. He was
poised above Melissa, supported by his arms,
which were propped on either side of her body.
His legs were pressed against hers, but between
them, and spreading them apart, so that his full
weight didn't press on her.
Now that his thoughts were clear, he realized
the opportunities inherent in the situation.
His heart began to pound with excitement as he
looked at the limp body. He could stare now as
long as he liked; she wouldn't know. He could
kiss her; she wouldn't know.
He trembled at the thought. He could touch her
breasts, and she wouldn't know. Did he dare?
Did he dare work open the buttons of that
satiny blouse? Did he dare unclasp her sure-to-
be-enticing bra and expose those incredible
round breasts?
What if she woke up? He stared at Melissa's
chest, his body aching to see her as he had
longed to do ever since he had first laid
eyes on her. Yet he still hesitated.
He yearned to see her unclothed, but he would
have liked her to be a willing party. Yes, she
was beautiful. Yes, she was sexy. But those
brief moments of meeting they'd shared in the
past had suggested to him that she was someone
he could really care for.
How could he abuse her trust, especially when
she might come to and catch him in the act?!
Tom's eyes darted quickly up and down her body.
This might be the only chance he ever had to
enjoy her. He wasn't going to rape her; he
could never do that. But if he could just see
her, experience her, so that he'd have some-
thing to remember her by...
He lifted the flap of Melissa's jacket, feeling
his penis stir at the sight of her chest. The
satin was pulled tight against her curves,
allowing the lacy pattern of her bra to show
clearly.
Moreover, if he wasn't mistaken, the contours
of protuberant nipples were also visible. But
he wouldn't unbutton her blouse; at least, not
yet. He had to test her awareness first.
He slid off her body into the tiny amount of
space beside her. He eyed her skirt, the whole
of which he couldn't see because the confined
space gave him only enough room to take his
head back a couple of inches. He looked along
her body and cautiously put his hand on her
thigh.
If she stirred now he could let go and feign
innocence. However, she didn't move. He
cautiously lifted the hem of Melissa's skirt,
revealing smooth, creamy skin and shiny pink
panties which barely covered the essentials.
His hand trembled, and he gulped at the sight.
He returned his eyes to Melissa's still face,
staring at her full red lips while cautiously
moving his hand on to her leg. Her skin was
so smooth, so perfect and firm.
He slipped his hand in between her thighs,
watching intently for any reaction. He had to
touch her. He had no choice.
When he was certain that she was unconscious
it took all his willpower to keep from ripping
off her clothes and rutting like an animal.
However, it couldn't stop him touching her.
He pressed his fingers against the pink satin
gusset, right between her legs and directly
against her pussy. His fingertip seemed to
have a mind of its own, moving up and down,
and from side to side, in her crotch.
Tom was deafened by the sound of his own
breathing as he nervously glanced down at the
joyful liberties his hand was taking.
He cupped it between her legs, letting each
finger experience the silky, intoxicating
touch.
Meanwhile his left hand fidgeted from lack of
use, demanding that it, too, be placed some-
where on Melissa's voluptuous body. Her
breast, for instance...
Tom knew he'd never forgive himself if he
failed to take such a golden opportunity to
touch her breasts, even if only through her
shirt. Still closely watching her face, he
rested gingerly on his side and pressed his
left palm gently against her right breast.
It jiggled slightly, and the excitement of
it momentarily blurred his vision.
After a slight pause, he took the breast
more firmly into his hand, lifting it and
moving it here and there with slow rubs
and soft squeezes. What an incredible
woman! he thought. Incredible!
His belief in her unconsciousness had
strengthened, and he instinctively pressed
harder against the soft flesh. He felt the
rigid bra beneath her shirt, and, more
exciting, the shape and texture of her
pussy and its satin covering. God, he
wanted her! He wanted more than anything
to pull off her clothes and thrust his
penis deep inside her.
Tom momentarily closed his eyes as his
hands probed more roughly, realizing that
he was losing control of himself. He needed
to touch her naked flesh, to unbutton her
blouse, unclasp her bra, and take her
nipples into his mouth. He needed to smell
her flesh scent, and feel her breasts
against his cheeks. He needed to slip his
hand inside her panties, and probe her soft,
delicate cunt with hungry fingers...
Melissa stirred, and Tom froze, his hands
still clasping her body, as her lips
twitched and her eyelids fluttered. He
swiftly smoothed her skirt as best he could,
and took his hands away.
He considered pretending to be asleep.
Surely she would suspect nothing if she
found him unconscious, when she realized
where they were.
Melissa slowly opened her eyes, and saw...
nothing. Her first thought was that she
must have been asleep in her dark bedroom.
However, it didn't take her long to
realize that she was lying extremely un-
comfortably on the floor.
Then she thought: why is it so dark and
silent? Everything was so still. No busy
hum of a workday office building, no sounds
at all. Her memory suddenly jumped into
focus, and she knew where she was.
The last thing she remembered was the
elevator doors closing - then everything
went black.
Enough of this, she thought. I'd better
get out of here. She was starting to rise,
when a hand touched her shoulder.
A momentary shock went through her body,
fright giving her an instant adrenaline
rush. Then a voice spoke in the dim light.
"Melissa, are you all right?" She
instantly recognized the voice as belonging
to Tom. Yes, she remembered entering the
elevator with Tom. Fear turned to relief.
Someone was with her; she wasn't alone.
Tom explained that there had been some kind
of disaster, and that they were trapped.
They both began to explore their situation,
moving around gingerly on hands and knees.
Melissa was acutely aware of her companion.
She'd long admired him from afar, for his
muscular body and graceful walk. She
thought: I'm attracted to too many men;
that's my problem.'
While they continued to explore the twisted
wreckage of their temporary prison, thoughts
of her past ran through Melissa's mind.
She'd been an inquisitive child, and had
always liked boys. She liked their wildness,
and thought they had more fun than she and
her female friends did. Her mother used to
nag her about her free-and-easy attitude to
boys and her friendships with them, and
this had made her self-conscious about
showing her feelings.
Sometimes she wondered how her mother had
managed to conceive her, because she
couldn't visualize her mother fucking her
father; her mother would never have
unbent sufficiently to let her dad touch her.
Her mother's constant assaults on her had
made Melissa turn toward quiet denial, in
the form of always keeping her own counsel,
never allowing friends or acquaintances to
know what she was really thinking, or how
she really felt.
*
Eventually Tom and Melissa stopped explor-
ing their little cage and came together.
Both realized that they were stuck unless
(or, more hopefully, until) someone rescued
them.
Melissa looked at her fellow captive (by
now their eyes were well-adapted to the
weak light) and smiled, wondering if they'd
ever get out of this alive. It crossed her
mind that Tom was nicer looking than she
had really noticed before. It may have been
a fear of dying, or the danger they were in,
but she seemed to sense his need for her.
She thought guiltily of John, who had been
her lover and best friend for over a year
now. She wasn't actually dissatisfied with
him; he wasn't very exciting to be with.
Now she was really feeling guilty.
Tom must have sensed the warmth on her
cheek, because he moved closer and touched
it, saying: "Are you feeling OK? You seem
flushed."
Melissa's mouth opened to say something, but
she suddenly held back. She pulled her head
away. "I'm fine," she said.
Tom took his hand back. He feared he'd of-
fended her, and at the moment Melissa didn't
want to contradict that impression. She
laughed to herself, acutely aware of Tom's
body beside her and thinking that they were
as close as any lovers.
She might be at home, in her bed, with John
beside her. She could be nude, fresh from
an intense bout of love-making, or perhaps
on the verge of sleep. Now that really was
funny!
When was the last time she had intense love-
making with John? Probably the last time
she'd been stuck in an elevator! Strange,
that in a situation so life-threatening, she
was thinking about sex! Was she insane?
If she told her thoughts to Tom, a man she
barely knew, he'd probably laugh at her and
secretly wish he was with someone genuinely
trying to escape. But what else could she do?
She had a man next to her, and the life she'd
been living seemed to have been on a crash
course equal to this elevator trip.
*
Tom stared up into the elevator's torn
ceiling and the apparent infinity of beams
and darkness above. Strange, how fate had
apparently granted him his wish.
Before the accident, what wouldn't he have given
to be lying beside this woman? How often he had
dreamt of having her legs brush against his, of
hearing her clothes rustle as she adjusted her
body by his side. And here she was!
But it was only half the wish. He couldn't kiss
her. He couldn't stroke her hair. He couldn't
undress her, touch her, make love to her. He
couldn't even touch her cheek without her shying
away. All he'd been able to do was fumble with
her clothes when she was unconscious.
But who could blame her? She was already spoken
for. From tidbits of information he'd acquired
when she'd been talking to a friend in the
elevator he knew she had a boyfriend. He figured
she was happy with her life, and couldn't
possibly dream of him the way he dreamt of her.
Well, one thing was for sure. He wouldn't let
her die. He had to save her, even if he couldn't
have her.
"Do you think we're going to make it? she asked.
Make what..Love? was the questioning response
that entered his mind, and he answered himself:
'No.' Aloud he said: "Yes. We've got a lot going
for us. We're in good shape. We still have our
senses and our brains. We'll be OK..."
"I have to admit I'm scared."
Tom looked at Melissa, who was facing him. God,
she was beautiful! He longed to pull her towards
him, to wrap his arms around her...
Suddenly, and to his own surprise, he took her
hand. He expected her to pull it back, as though
his touch would be more terrible than the
situation they were in. But she let him hold on
to it, and smiled at him, evidently grateful for
the comfort he was offering. He wondered just
how much comfort she would be grateful for.
"It's funny," she said. "I see you so often, but
hardly know you. Somehow, I think we'll know each
other a lot better by the time we get out of
this."
'Intimately' was Tom's unexpressed interjection.
They continued to talk a while, describing their
lives, their work, their plans. It was all at a
superficial level, yet somehow it helped them both
to feel sane. Melissa let Tom hold her hand the
whole time. She even drew a little closer to him,
close enough for Tom to smell the remnants of her
perfume.
After a while, though, her voice started to grow
weaker. She let her hand slip out of his, and her
eyelids began to flutter.
"You need some rest," Tom said.
"I think you're right," she answered, "but this
isn't the most comfortable of beds."
Tom saw his opportunity to make an offer which
would appear kind, while actually expressing his
own desire. "You can rest on me, if you like..."
She looked as if she would like to accept, but
didn't want to seem too forward. "That's OK. I'm
sure I can manage."
"Come on, it'll be good for you. You may have hurt
your head. Lying on an elevator floor won't do it
any good. I'm a lot softer, and I won't mind at
all." Tom followed up his speech by rolling on to
his back.
Melissa eyed his chest. It did look kind of nice
and snug. "Well, OK," she said. "But promise not
to tell my boyfriend."
He promised. He wouldn't tell about this, or about
what he'd done earlier. And certainly not about
what he planned to do if he got the chance. With
any luck, she'd offer her chest to him when he
needed a nap. Please, he thought. Please let
Melissa offer me her breasts for a pillow.
"Your heart's really thumping," she said.
"Well, I'm scared, too." He didn't know if she
would buy that, but what else could he say? He was
grateful that she couldn't see how excited he was.
Her head was lying under his chin, her left breast
was mushed against his stomach, and her right leg
rested on his own right leg. She shifted a couple
of times, which increased her contact with him.
Meanwhile Tom lay quite still, seething with lust.
There was no chance of him sleeping now. He was a
little worried that Melissa would move further
forward on him, and feel the erection that he was
sporting in his pants. However, she seemed
deliberately to avoid that area, almost as if she
was teasing him.
God, the smell of her hair! He was all too well
aware of his breathing, and the rapidity with which
his chest rose and fell. She felt so soft, delicate,
and deliciously vulnerable against his body.
He was holding her close with his right arm, and
soon found himself stroking her with it. She
didn't respond. She was asleep! Like a purring
kitten, she lay pressed against him. The softness
of her breasts buried into him like a half-embrace.
The hem of her skirt lifted above her thighs as she
stretched her leg over him.
Tom moved his hand downwards, tracing the smooth
contours of her body from hip to mid-thigh. He
slid it underneath her jacket, and felt the smooth
press of her blouse against his palm.
Did he dare? He tugged gingerly at the satiny
material, eventually managing to lift it out of
her skirt. She would surely assume it to be the
result of moving in her sleep, he reasoned.
He pulled the shirt out and slid his hand up her
bare back, breathing heavily as he did so. He
lightly probed her shoulder blades, her shirt
against the back of his hand, then he trailed his
fingertips across the smooth texture of her bra.
Too bad she was pressed against him! Tom had loved
the feel, the soft, cushiony feel, of her breasts
pressed against him, but now regretted that they
weren't directly accessible.
His hand was already in her shirt, and all he
needed was to move it to the front of her body,
but her position prevented this. Still, he care-
fully pushed his hand in as far as he could, and
felt about a square inch of room under Melissa's
arm, enough for one finger.
He carefully extended his probing to the tiny area
of breast he could reach with his finger, and
delicately stroked the smooth bra cup. Even such a
small touch sent a stream of electricity through
his skin.
His body felt so alive, so much in need of her.
His penis was aching, longing to be inside her. He
took her left hand with his, and carefully lifted,
then lowered it towards his waist. He paused for
an eternity, listening and feeling for any sign of
wakefulness on her part.
When he was reasonably satisfied none would be
forthcoming, he lowered her hand on to his stiff
cock, and slowly, ever so slowly, moved it up and
down his clothed member.
This gave him an idea. He might be unable to bare
her body for him to touch, but perhaps he could
bare HIS body and make HER do the touching!
Knowing he wasn't really safe, that he could be in
big trouble for this, Tom unzipped his pants with
his free hand. Then, oh so carefully, he pulled
Melissa's hand into his pants, and through the
opening in his underwear.
He groaned quietly as her bare palm and fingers
covered his aching naked cock. The sensation was
exquisite.
He slowly humped with his hips, causing her hand
to move very slightly on his shaft. He longed for
her to close her grasp; to awake, move her head
down towards her hand, and press those sweet lips
to his erect penis in an intimate kiss.
Of course that wasn't going to happen, so he
continued to take whatever enjoyment was in reach.
He was touching part of her breast, only a thin
bra between his finger and her naked flesh. And
she was touching his cock, his bare, hard cock,
with her bare hand.
Tom almost hoped they wouldn't be found; that,
somehow, a magic supply of food and water would
appear and he could be like this with Melissa
forever. But that was just a dream, and he knew
he'd better not take too much advantage of the
situation. If Melissa woke up, who knew how she
might react? She couldn't get away, but she
might land a few punches or catch him a painful
blow with her knee.
Anyway, he pulled his hand out of her blouse,
and her hand from his pants. Then he tried to
sleep. At best, he achieved a cold sense of
grogginess.
Indeed, the floor was quite difficult to sleep
on. He spent his waking time listening for signs
of rescue, but none came. He felt they surely
would; it was surely just a matter of time.
Thank God, he could enjoy himself until then...
Melissa herself eventually stirred, and strained
to look at Tom's face. Their eyes met, and her
question, whether he was still sleeping, answered
itself."Hi," she said stiffly.
"Haven't you been able to sleep?"
God, no! Tom thought. "A little," he offered.
Continued in Part 2...
~~~~~~~~
"You'll find that many of the things we hold to be true, are only
that, from a certain point of view."
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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