The Elevator TrapSetting: Office building elevator

The office was quiet that Friday evening. Most people had rushed off after the closing hour, eager for their weekend. But she—Amaka—had stayed back, finishing up reports and waiting for the Lagos traffic to thin out.

He stepped into the elevator just as the doors were closing. A faint whiff of his cologne—woodsy and warm—drifted into her space. Their eyes met briefly. Tension sparked. Not the awkward kind, but the kind that tightens the air, makes breathing a little harder, and thoughts a little filthier.

The elevator jolted slightly as it began its descent, then came to a sudden halt between floors.

A soft curse escaped his lips.
“No network,” she whispered, holding up her phone.
“No CCTV either,” he muttered with a wicked grin, stepping just a bit closer.

The silence grew heavy. Her pulse quickened. There was nowhere to go, nothing else to do. Just the two of them, the dim light, and that humming electricity dancing between their bodies.

Without a word, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her lips parted, not from surprise, but from anticipation. Their mouths met halfway—slow, deliberate, heated.

Hands explored with unashamed hunger. Her back pressed to the cool metallic wall, his mouth trailing from her lips to her neck, tasting her skin like a man starved. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring toned muscles, clawing slightly when he pressed his thigh between hers.

The tension snapped—like a stretched rubber band—when her blouse came undone. Fingers found lace, then skin. His touch was sure, practiced, but hungry like he’d never touched a woman before. She gasped when he lifted her, letting her wrap around him like vines on a pole. Moans muffled against kisses. Breaths synced. The elevator became their secret room of desire.

By the time the metal box jerked back to life, her lips were swollen, his belt was loose, and their eyes—oh, their eyes—were drunk on something far stronger than lust.

As the doors slid open on the ground floor, they stepped out wordlessly, shoulders brushing. No one would ever guess what the elevator had witnessed.

But they both knew.

And it wouldn't be the last time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

✍️ "Weak in the Knees"

✍️ Somebody’s Shoulder Is About to Give Up

I get jealous over someone who isn’t even mine.