One Shots

Amira’s alarm blared across the room, as she chucked a pillow at the offending object. “Let me sleep ten more minutes, you damn piece of plastic,” she shouted at the clock.

The clock, however, continued to beep angrily from under the pillow, forcing Amira out of bed, grumbling and muttering darkly to herself. She had made a promise to herself to go for a run every day, and two days into her resolution, she was already resenting the moment of weakness that convinced her that this was a good idea.

After brushing her teeth and quickly pulling her hair into a tight ponytail, she changed into leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, ready to brave the chill of New York City fall weather.
Stepping out of her apartment, she put in her headphones and started her playlist as she walked to the elevator. By the time the elevator reached her floor, she had been joined by an attractive blonde man who was impatiently checking his phone every few seconds. She had never seen him around before, but given his dress shirt and perfectly fitted slacks, she assumed he must be one of the businessmen that lived in the building.

As she followed him into the lift, she couldn't help but admire his ass in those pants, before mentally scolding herself for so shamelessly ogling him. He leaned against the elevator wall opposite her, looking up long enough for her eyes to meet his piercing blue ones as he gave her a polite smile before returning his attention to his phone.

It took about 30 seconds before either of them realized that the elevator had stopped between floors. They shared a confused glance, and Amira pressed the ground floor button as though her life depended on it, yet to no avail. They tried prying the door open, but all their efforts fell flat. Finally it became clear that they would have to wait for outside help and they gave up.

“Well, I guess we’re stuck here for the time being,” Amira observed, pulling out her headphones. “Hope you didn't have anywhere to be anytime soon.”

Her lift companion tucked his phone into his pocket. “I just let them know that I’ll be late, but hopefully we won't be here too long.”

Oh fuck, that accent. He spoke perfect English but Amira could detect the slight lilt in his voice and for a second, she wished that they'd be stuck in the elevator for a few hours just to keep hearing him talk. The least she could do is make polite conversation until someone got them out. “I haven’t seen you in the building before, did you move here recently?” she inquired, trying not to sound too nosy.

“No, I actually lived in New York a few years back. I was back in town for a few days and just stopped by to see an old friend.”

“Oh, cool,” Amira nodded, desperately searching for another conversation starter. Unfortunately for her, it seemed that absolutely nothing was coming to mind. So instead, she leaned back and took out her phone, pretending to be busy so that she didn’t have to make small talk.

The next five minutes passed in complete silence, until he decided to speak up. “I’m Carl, by the way. If we’re going to be stuck in here together, we might as well get to know each other, right?”

“I’m Amira.”

“So Amira, what do you do?”

His name rolled off his tongue so smoothly that Amira nearly collapsed right then and there. She could only imagine how it would sound whispered in her ear when he was deep inside her.

“Earth to Amira, what do you do for a living?” he repeated, waving his hands in front of her face.

She snapped back to reality, his knowing smirk causing her face to turn bright red. “I work for a small design firm, helping clients create logos and things like that. What do you do?”

“I play hockey for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

Well, that definitely explained his physique. “So you’re in town for a game, then?”

“Yeah, we have a game tomorrow but because of our schedule, we got in yesterday. I was hoping to be at the rink early, but at this rate, I’ll be lucky to make practice.”

“Have you always wanted to play hockey?”

“Yeah, ever since I was a kid in Sweden. My parents put me on skates pretty soon after I learned to walk, and I guess I just never looked back. What about you, have you always been interested in design?”

Amira shook her head ruefully. “Not really. I was a studio art major, and I wanted to be a painter more than anything. But as it turns out, the starving artist stereotype is pretty accurate, so I decided to find a more stable job.”

“Do you still paint, though?”

“I try. I still maintain a website with an online store and every once in a blue moon, someone will buy something. But it’s hard to find motivation to paint when your paintings just sit in the corner of your room gathering dust because no one wants them.”

They continued to talk, lounging against the lift wall, beginning to joke and tease like old friends, making their way through every conversation topic in the book over the next hour.

“Okay, tell me something you haven’t told anyone else,” Carl challenged.

“Umm...my last boyfriend was terrible in bed. He couldn’t find my clit if it lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. I couldn’t tell my friends because they all knew him and I didn’t want to make it awkward. He was so bad that I’d rather be celibate for the rest of my life than sleep with him again.”

“That’s some pretty harsh criticism,” Carl teased.

“Trust me, he deserves it. When we started dating, he bragged about how he’d never left a woman unsatisfied. I almost feel bad for him, living in that delusion.” They shared a laugh, before Amira continued, “Do you know what the worst part is? I haven’t had sex with anyone since we broke up because I’m worried it’ll be more of the same. Come on, it’s your turn to admit something - I just bared the gory details of my sex life, time for you to do the same.”

“I have a much better idea.”

“Which is…?”

“We remedy your current situation right now. Still no sign of us getting out so we might as well occupy our time.” Ever since he stepped on that elevator, Carl had been checking her out, from her shapely thighs in those tight spandex leggings to the way her shirt clung to her torso, just enough to give him a taste of what lay underneath. He of course, was not oblivious to the glances she had thrown his way, and he knew that she wanted him, even if she hadn’t admitted it out loud.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, seems like you’re just trying to evade the question.”

“Maybe I am. But you can’t deny that my suggestion is pretty damn tempting.”

Amira took one look at him standing in front of her, his bright blue eyes focused intensely on her, his blonde hair falling messily into his face, and she knew she was a goner. “I swear to god, knowing my luck, the elevator doors will open in the middle of this,” she grumbled.

“I’ll take that chance.” Carl moved so that his body was flush against hers, pressing her firmly against the wall. He nipped at her neck, feeling her back arch and breasts push against his chest when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

She hooked one leg around his thigh, slotting their bodies together so that she could feel his cock through the fabric of his dress pants. Carl let out a deep groan when she rolled her hips against him. “You keep that up and this won’t last very long.”

“I haven’t been fucked properly in over a year, Carl; I’m not sure I’m going to last very long.” She slid her hands down his sides, yanking his shirt out of his pants, her nimble fingers immediately going to work on his belt.

Carl spun her around so that she was facing the wall, causing her to let out a yelp of surprise. His hands roamed her body, pushing her leggings down to her around her knees. He ran two knuckles over the crotch of her cotton panties, feeling her arousal through the thin fabric. Amira suddenly felt very self-conscious about her decision to choose comfort over appearance when choosing underwear that morning, but Carl didn’t seem to care. Tugging the cloth down, he slipped two fingers into her cunt, as she braced her hands against the wall, pushing her hips back to get more of his touch.

“Oh god, Carl, please,” she begged, as he continued his torturously slow movements.

He leaned forward so that his stubble tickled the side of her neck as he spoke. “Please what, Amira?”

As much as Amira wanted to be annoyed and to return his comment with a snarky response, she was too turned on to ccare. “Fuck me,” she breathed, her voice heavy with lust.

She could feel him smile into her neck, and then heard the telltale sound of his pants being unzipped. Looking over her shoulder, she watched his pants pool on the floor around his legs, his black underwear following right behind, exposing his beautiful cock to her greedy eyes. Carl met her gaze, using one hand to line up his cock with her entrance, before pushing in, filling her completely.

Amira pressed her palms to the cold metal wall of the elevator, pushing her hips back to match Carl’s movements. One of Carl’s hands found its way under her shirt, playing with her breast through the thin fabric of her bra. His other hand gripped her hip tightly, forcing her to take more of him with every thrust. “Oh fuck, yes,” she grunted.

Carl felt the pull of her cunt as his cock slid along her walls. “You’re feel so fucking tight, so fucking good,” he panted, thrusts accenting every word, the sound of skin hitting skin reverberating through the small space.

“Oh shit, I’m close,” Amria moaned, her body feeling like it was on fire. Stray pieces of hair slipped out of her ponytail, falling into her face.

Carl wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to a more upright position, never slowing his relentless pace. As soon as he felt her pussy pulsating around him, he leaned forward and used his hand to turn her head so that he could kiss her deeply, letting her whimper into his mouth as she came, her clenching pussy pulling the orgasm from Carl’s body.

They pulled apart slowly, neither particularly wanting the moment to end, redressing themselves and attempting to look slightly less like they had just fucked in an elevator.

“Well, I'll never look at this elevator the same way again,” Amira commented wryly.

“This has been, by far, the best elevator ride of my life.” Carl laughed, giving her an exaggerated wink.

It wasn't too much longer before the fire department finally managed to get the lift moving again and Carl and Amira were released on the ground floor. “I guess this is goodbye,” Carl muttered, shuffling his feet, loathe to leave Amira.

Amira gave him a hug, which he enthusiastically reciprocated. “Who knows, maybe I'll come to see you play the next time you're in town. And maybe you can finally see the inside of my apartment after that,” she whispered conspiratorially, letting Carl’s hand slip down her back to cop a feel of her spandex-clad ass on his way out of the building as she returned to her apartment to get tray for work, her planned run long-forgotten.

A few weeks passed and Amira’s elevator fling had finally ceased to occupy her every thought, when she suddenly received two strange emails after returning from work: one saying she had a plane ticket to go to Pittsburgh the next day and a second email indicating activity on her artist’s website. Confused, she clicked on the link, scrolling through the webpage until she found what she was looking for. When she did, she nearly fell out of her chair in shock.

Someone had paid $500,000 for three of her paintings. “Who the fuck has that kind of money?” she muttered, trying to find out more about the mysterious buyer, but all she could find was a short message in the “special delivery instructions” section. As she read the text, she couldn’t help the smile that graced her lips.

I would appreciate if the artist could hand-deliver these to my apartment in Pittsburgh; I have taken the liberty of purchasing plane tickets myself. Turns out, there's an elevator in my building that I’d like her to take a look at.

Notes

I've come to the conclusion that I really suck at titles so if anyone wants to become my official title creator, I'm currently accepting applications for that position (I'm only half joking).

This is based on the recent time when I got stuck in an elevator for 3 hours, fell asleep on the floor like the adult I am, and had a dream that went a bit like this. Needless to say, waking up was a massive disappointment.

Next up, possibly some Christmas smut (with an undetermined player - feel free to offer opinions) if I can get my life in order and find enough time to write it before the holidays actually arrive. Otherwise, Tom Kuhnhackl and the Roman Josi/James Neal threesome will be up next.