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Message-ID: <45474asstr$1069341002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Derek" <byte.me@btinternet.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 20 Nov 2003 07:40:37 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} In Case of Emergency...
Date: Thu, 20 Nov 2003 10:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY...

'...Press this button. That is what it says, yes?'
 Leah glanced up from her sitting position on the lift floor, pausing as if
the question might not have been for her, before finally nodding.
 The man stopped pacing (such as it was, the lift floorspace being only two
by two metres). 'But it's not doing anything!'
 Leah pulled a tattered handkerchief from her pocket and mopped her brow.
'Yes it is. It's sending a signal to the engineer's office on the ground
floor, to reset the duty cycle switch and get the lift going again.'
 The man pointed at her, a barrister catching out a witness. 'Then where's
the damn engineer?'
 Leah smiled and held up her own hands in surrender. 'Surprise.'
 A hope more akin to a child rediscovering Christmas brightened his eyes.
'Then you can get us out of here!'
 Leah nodded again, but didn't move. 'If I wasn't in here, I probably
could.'
 Hope turned to disbelief, as he pointed towards the ceiling hatch. 'Then
climb out and take care of it!'
 Leah blinked. 'You frigging climb out and take care of it; they don't pay
me enough here to risk my neck.'
 'Damn it!' He thumped the lift doors in frustration and began pacing again,
as Leah continued watching him. He was a tall, broad bear of a man in his
early twenties, with a gorgeous rugby player's body, square chin, a lovely
tanned face now blemished by pique, and crinkly copper hair. Of course, the
garish Hawaiian shirt, baggy shorts and flip-flops, de rigueur for every
British male holidaymaker, reduced his Tastiness Factor in Leah's eyes by
several points, as did his subsequent remarks. 'Typical: hiring a woman to
do a man's job.'
 Leah ran a hand across her raven hair, ponytailed out of harm's way.
'What's your name?'
 'Brendan.'
 'My name's Leah, Brendan. And if you think this job needs a man's touch,
then by all means, climb through to the lift roof, then shimmy up the cables
to the next floor. A big, strong man like you should have no problem.'
 That shut him up. He said nothing, for about a minute - a record for him,
so far. 'How long will we be trapped in here? Aren't there other engineers
in the hotel?'
 Leah forced the breath from her body; the air, humid and still, felt like
soup. 'Pepito works the day shift; he's out tonight trying his luck. And it
would take the Caribbean equivalent of the Towering Inferno before Reception
would call the Emergency Services, not without the manager's permission. And
before you ask, he's also out for the evening with the wife.' She shrugged,
uncoupling the straps of her coveralls and letting the front flop onto her
lap, revealing more of the dirty, sweat-patched T-shirt hugging her ample
chest. 'Could be a while.'
 Brendan started to reply, then gave up and slid to the floor, back pressed
against the wall to Leah's right, their feet almost touching. Leah stared
ahead, to her diffuse reflection in the polished lift doors: a blurred image
of a short, stocky brunette in her late twenties staring back, revealing
nothing of her deep chestnut eyes, rosebud lips, or blushed skin. She may
not have been a supermodel, but she didn't fare too badly in the looks
department.
 Brendan broke the silence. 'What were you doing in the lift anyway?'
 Leah patted the battered toolbox beside her like it was a faithful cat. 'I
*was* going up to 503 to fix the air conditioning. What were you doing in
the lift?'
 Brendan ticked the air with his tongue. 'I was going out on a Last Night
Pub Crawl with my mates; the Airport Bus is due in the morning. But I came
back for some more money. And now...'
 Leah nodded, not particularly sympathetic. 'C'est la vie; still, a
holiday's only as good as you make it. When I came here three months ago, I
thought I'd be having a great time. But here, a "working holiday" means more
work than holiday-'
 'I'm really not interested.'
 She bit back a retort, mopping her face again; the sweat seemed to be
winning the war of attrition, and not just on her head. She watched him draw
his knees up to his chest and wrap his strong, muscular arms around his
legs. He seemed distracted, edgy, and not from just missing out on a final
island piss-up with his mates. 'Are you okay?'
 He made a half-hearted sound, a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes, now
glancing about, scanning every inch of the lift interior. Silence hung
between them for a heartbeat, not helped by the distant, tantalising music
of nightlife in St. Brigid. Just when she thought he might be feeling
claustrophobic, and was preparing herself to do something about it, he
finally added, 'I'm sorry I snapped at you before. Probably just the heat.'
 Leah offered him a smile and a lazy dismissive wave. 'Forget it. Still, if
it gets much hotter in here, the emergency sprinkler system will kick in.'
She nodded to the showerhead-like appendage in the ceiling. 'Won't that be
fun?'
 He followed her glance upwards. 'I can't wait.'
 Silence returned. Leah continued to look him over, the lines and curves of
his calves, as they rose and fell into his thighs, which themselves fell
into his shorts. His legs weren't particularly hairy, and she began
wondering what his chest looked like, as it expanded and retracted within
his shirt.
 'We'll be fine,' she assured him. When this prompted only an indecisive
nod, she added, 'Why not take your mind off it? Tell me about yourself.'
 He stared with near-suspicion. 'Like what?'
 Leah smiled. 'Like, anything you want.'
 And he did. Very little was substantial, or even interesting. But it was
honest, as if the heat had forced him to shed the macho armour men usually
wore to impress their mates or women, leaving only the naked truth. Leah let
him ramble, nodding and responding in the right places, until finally,
something like a relaxed smile lightened and brightened his handsome
features.
 Then Leah took a breath, leaned forward and began undoing the laces of her
steel-capped boots, her throat sounding parched. 'I don't know about you,
but I'm beginning to feel like an oven-ready turkey in all this. I'm
stripping off before I pass out.'
 She felt Brendan's eyes as she cast aside her boots and socks, only looking
away when she rose just enough to slide her coveralls down her body and
legs, setting them with her boots. Once clad only in white cotton knickers,
T-shirt and bra, all damp, Leah resumed her hunkered position against the
wall, the relative coolness of the metal walls and floor of the lift better
appreciated by her now-bare skin. She locked eyes with him again. 'It's a
little too tropical in here for modesty. You should take your shirt off.'
 His tanned features seemed to flush even further. 'No, I'm fine, thanks.'
 'Go on,' she urged with a smile. 'You'll feel better. I promise.'
 He looked away, his lips pursed as if for further argument, before
relenting. Leah did her best to act casual, trying not to over-stare and
spook him, and noting how little movement he permitted his body while he set
his shirt aside. Then she caught a glimpse of the bulge, large and firm and
undeniable, in his shorts, and understood.
 She watched him lean backward and sigh at the touch of the walls on his
spine. His chest was as she imagined, muscular but not overly so, with dark
cherry curls clustered in a rough diamond in the centre.
 Very nice. 'There. That wasn't so bad, was it?'
 Brendan closed his eyes and sighed. 'I suppose not.'
 Leah smiled again, long after it stopped being necessary; even his sweat
smelled pleasing. She mopped her face until her handkerchief was damp, then
discarded it. It was getting hotter, and there was little point in waiting
any longer. 'Brendan, I need your help.'
 He opened his eyes, blinking the sweat away as he watched her rise to her
feet and stand over him, her crotch at his eye level. Confusion reigned in
his expression. 'What's wrong?'
 She held out her arms, as if for a hug. 'My hands are too wet now to wipe
the sweat away. Could you help me... please?'
 He blinked again, stammering, 'Oh, yes. Sure. Of course,' as he helped
himself to his feet, standing nearly a head taller than Leah. He held out
his own hands, open, large, strong-looking, but unsure of where to start.
Then Leah twisted her body, offering him her left arm.
 His hands enclosed around both sides of her bicep, his touch like warm
supple leather as they slowly skimmed down to her elbow, then her forearm,
before stopping and shaking the collected perspiration to the floor.
 'Again,' she urged, her voice tissue soft.
 He obeyed. Leah noted to herself how her nipples had grown taut, erect,
from his proximity, his ministrations; they were visible, even through her
bra, and catching Brendan staring at them merely served to accentuate her
reaction.
 She blinked as she realised Brendan was speaking to her. 'What about your
other arm?'
 She turned for him. He had found a practised, confident series of motions,
his fingers cupped and shaped around her arms as if sculpted for that very
purpose; she had to will her teeth to unclench, and her lungs to begin
breathing again.
 He swept her right arm again, looking so earnest and intent, forgetting or
ignoring the bulge which remained visible, defiant, within his shorts.
 Then Leah parted her thighs slightly, asking, 'Could you do my legs, too,
Brendan?'
 His bulge made kneeling slightly awkward, and paused when his hands reached
up to grasp her thigh on either side, just below the elastic leg of her
knickers. His eyes seemed glazed over, not daring to focus on the dark patch
of russet curls plainly visible over the outline of her sex, and only inches
away. She knew she was wet, and wondered if he could scent how aroused she'd
become.
 Then he began to draw his hands down her legs, harvesting beads of sweat as
he had done for her arms. She looked down at him, admiring the clean lines
the lift walls had left on his back. 'So, Brendan, tell me: have you been...
lucky... on your holiday?'
 He slowed down, but never hazarded looked up. 'I've had a few nibbles.'
 'But no catches?'
 He grunted in reply. Expecting nothing further, she continued, 'It's been
disappointing for me, too. They were reluctant to hire a woman for this job;
I've had to work twice as hard to be thought of as half as good as a man.
And I'm not supposed to fraternise with the guests.' She shrugged to
herself. 'I suppose I shouldn't have expected much in that department
anyway, what with my looks.'
 His voice was barely audible as he moved to her other leg. 'There's nothing
wrong with you. I think you're lovely.'
 She smiled. 'Thanks; that's very sweet of you.' She reached down and gently
stroked his head. 'Handsome and sweet: quite a package. Those other women
were fools not to have seen the prize they could have had.'
 She applied pressure to her hand on his head, prompting him to look up,
then rise to his feet again; somehow his hands found a place on her hips.
'So, tonight's your last night, eh?'
 He nodded silently, dreamily.
 She gazed into his eyes. 'I'd hate to see it go to waste in here, doing
nothing.'
 He nodded again. Leah could wait no longer, and drew him into a kiss,
finding his tongue, and no small surprise. When he responded, his erection
pressing into her as he pushed her against the lift wall, the rush of
pleasure through her body was almost too much. Despite his initial response,
he seemed unsure, and the thought occurred to Leah that he could have been a
virgin, in the Bahamas to lose what he couldn't back home; the thought,
correct or not, sent further shivers through her.
 Still kissing her, he reached up between them, squeezing and stroking her
aching breasts through the material of her remaining clothes. He tried
reaching around with his other hand and unclasping the hook, but couldn't
manage it, so she parted from him enough to remove her bra and shirt and
grant her breasts - round, firm, with dark pink nipples - freedom. He cupped
each breast, ever-so-lightly squeezing each nipple between thumb and
forefinger, the look in his eyes worth a treasure. After a moment of
enjoying her approving response, he bent down and took one nipple in his
mouth. She moaned, pressing him closer, wanting more - now!
 As if he could read her thoughts, one hand dove down to stroke her thighs,
stopping at the outline of her knickers, before trailing around to cup and
squeeze her fleshy cheeks as he had done with her breasts.
 He still wasn't quick enough for her, though; she drew down her knickers,
kicking them away. His huge hands cupped her bare cheeks now, as his
erection pressed against her again, demanding attention.
 She offered it, clasping the sides of his shorts and briefs, tugging them
down so that he mirrored her own prior discarding motion, before reaching
for his cock, standing proud from a cluster of curls at its base.
 Brendan, for his part, had maneuvered his fingers around to her front,
feeling Leah surge against his touch, her sex tense, puffy, pulsing. She
withdrew her mouth from his long enough to gasp aloud, as his fingers gently
entered her, gathering her dew like a bee collecting pollen.
 Leah's thighs reflexively closed against his hand, just as her own hand
clamped onto him, boldly and easily drawing his foreskin back and forth, as
if to confirm for them both that this was real, not some fantasy. She was
impotent to fight the exquisite sensations running through her like wires.
 "Come on, come on," she found herself panting hungrily.
 He seemed immensely thankful for her impatience, her eagerness. But
gallantry bade him offer, "I have a condom, in my wallet."
 She nodded impatiently. 'Just hurry.'
 Moments later, Brendan was easily lifting her up, then drawing her down
again, Leah gasping as she enveloped him, refusing to let go; he held her up
easily.
 Despite the mutual hunger, the urgency, once joined there grew a remarkable
complementary rhythm with each other, a harmony to their duet usually
reserved for lovers who had coupled for years, and whose concern for each
other's needs equaled or surpassed their own desires. The outside world was
set aside, as they drove at each other with a graceful affection, Leah's
dizzying climaxes bursting from her, one after the other, splintering her
breath into ragged moans.
 Above them, the sounds of thunder.
 Brendan paused, looked up. 'What the hell-?'
 'Sprinkler system,' Leah gasped. 'Don't stop.'
 Then the water began to fall, soft cool drops bathing them both without
cooling their passions. Leah's body, rising and falling, shook and trembled
in his grasp, but she cherished every moment, until inevitably his willpower
had eroded beyond repair, and he let himself succumb to that release of
pleasure-pain, tensing as he climaxed within her, digging his fingers into
her cheeks and back.
 The water was drenching her, but Leah's mouth felt raw. Gasping, she held
her head up to catch some of it on her parched tongue.

 The hotel engineer's office was barely a closet, tight and dark, the desk
dominating the centre of the room, and piled high with spare parts, tools
and invoices. A handsome black man, coffee-skinned and thickly-bearded, sat
behind the desk, a Solitaire game, radio and tiny electric fan his only
company.
 When Leah entered the office, drenched but dressed once more, he rose as if
a fire had been set beneath him, his voice clipped by his native tongue, but
not without some element of humour. 'About time, girl! Another minute, and
I'd have started up the lift again; what kept you?'
 She set down her toolbox, perched herself on the desktop and drank deeply
from the plastic water bottle by the fan before replying. 'Give me a break,
Pepito; I can't work as fast as you.'
 His laugh was like a burst of applause, though his subsequent words held a
cautious tone. 'But you make up for it in numbers: that's four times this
month you've been "trapped in the lift" with a man, girl.'
 She shrugged. 'There's been four sets of tourists this month.'
 'You watch out, someday you'll be caught in the act.'
 She waved him off. 'What, a nice English girl like myself? Besides, wasn't
it me sitting here only last week, while you were "trapped" with that Dutch
girl?' She drank deeply again, smiling almost beatifically. 'I knew Brendan
would be an ideal catch, from the day he arrived. But he was a tough nut to
finally crack; I thought I'd never get a taste of him.'
 'I thought he'd never stop pressing the Emergency Button.' Pepito's smile
blossomed into a toothy cheetah's grin, as he nodded towards the alarm on
the office wall. 'Then I figured perhaps he was leaning against it, you
know, when you were...'
 Leah nodded, 'Yeah, I know what you were figuring, you dirty sod.' She
stretched her arms out and groaned. 'Damn, I still have the air conditioner
in 503 to fix, the sprinkler system to reset, and Brendan wants me to stop
by his room before his bus arrives. I won't get a moment's peace tonight.'
At Pepito's expression, she stuck out her chin, unapologetic. 'Hey, a
holiday's only as good as you make it!'

END

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