✍️ The Stranger in the Elevator

She had five minutes left on her lunch break when she stepped into the elevator. Head down. Phone in hand. Just trying to get through the day. The lift hummed quietly as it climbed floor after floor, until it stopped on the 8th.

He stepped in.

Tall. Well-dressed. Confident without trying. He didn’t say a word — just stood across from her, close enough for her to smell the clean, warm spice of his cologne.

The doors slid shut.
The numbers blinked.
The silence grew.

Then — a jolt. The elevator stopped.

“Power cut,” she muttered nervously, trying to stay calm.

“Lucky me,” he said, a slight smirk touching his lips. “Trapped with the prettiest woman in the building.”

She looked up. Met his gaze. Something flickered between them — unexpected, magnetic. His stare didn’t ask for permission. It waited to see if she’d say no. She didn’t.

“Tell me,” he said softly, stepping closer, “what would you do… if we weren’t strangers?”

She smiled, her pulse loud in her ears. “I’d break the rules.”

“Good,” he whispered. “Because I’m not very good at following them.”

His hand reached her waist. The moment stretched — electric, hungry, bold. She leaned in, lips parting, breath trembling. The kiss was slow at first, exploring, tasting. Then deeper. Needier. Like they had minutes to rewrite fantasies they'd both carried too long.

When the lights blinked back on, they both laughed — quietly, breathless.

“Well,” he said, stepping back and adjusting his tie, “that was... unexpected.”

“Same time tomorrow?” she teased.

He winked as the doors slid open. “Only if we get stuck again.”

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