Christmas Chemistry

I reach past her to flip open the telephone door. There is a small blinking light. It’s not much, but my eyes are adjusting quickly to the darkness.

“There’s a telephone in this elevator?”

“It’s for these situations,” I explain. I wait for a ringtone, but it doesn’t come.

“Well?” I can hear the hope in her voice.

“The university doesn’t maintain its buildings well,” I reply and return the receiver to the cradle.

“No. That’s not an acceptable answer.” She pulls out her phone, her hands shaking as she unlocks the screen. “Dammit. There’s no service in here.” Kayla shoves the useless piece of electronics back in her purse. “What am I going to do?” She draws in a quavery breath. “I’m sorry,” she tells me. “I’m usually so much more put together than this. It’s just…”—gasp—"that I don’t like”—gasp—"dark”—quivering inhale—"places.”

There’s a susurration, and then the space beside me becomes empty. I reach down and find the top of her bowed head. She’s collapsed to her knees. I drop my briefcase and shrug out of my coat, whipping it around her shoulders. Lowering myself to my knees, I draw a shuddering Kayla to my chest. Her small hands curl in my shirt. I hear a sniffle and a caught breath. Her tears wet the expensive cotton. Anxiety roils through me at her obvious terror, so I do the only thing I can think of to take her mind off this situation. I kiss her.

I tuck my thumb under her chin, tilt her face back, and claim her mouth. She parts her lips in surprise, and my tongue sweeps in to taste her. She freezes at the intrusion, and so I pause too, thinking this was the wrong move, but then her hands drag me closer. Our mouths fuse together, and her tongue licks over mine, sending a bolt of electricity from my mouth to my cock. The damn thing springs to attention and pounds against the zipper of my trousers. It senses the wet heat of her cunt is only a barrier or two away.

I jam my hands into her hair and angle her head for a more thorough claiming. Her fingers busily unbutton my shirt. With her help, I strip off my shirt and let her hands explore my bare skin. I plant my ass on the floor and stretch my legs out, pulling her onto my lap so she can straddle me. The heat of her cunt arrows through the layers of fabric as she rocks against my hard shaft.

I slide one hand down to her ass to pull her closer, letting my hand ride her hip while she works herself against my cock. Desire storms through my veins. I should take her now. I should pull off her pants and impale her on my cock, driving her down my turgid length time and again until she’s creaming all over the elevator floor. I circle her waist with my hands and then dip my fingers inside the waistband of her pants, ready to finger her sweetness when the fucking lights turn on.

Her head comes up, breaking our contact. The next sound is a sharp piercing noise followed by a high-pitched voice. “Dr. Amherst, is that you?”

My head drops back in resignation. “Yes,” I answer wearily. Why’d they have to save us? We’re adults. We can save our own damn selves.

“I’m so sorry. There was a slight malfunction, but everything is working, and you should be able to get to the parking garage with no problems.”

“Thanks,” I answer sourly. I help Kayla get to her feet. She doesn’t look at me while I button my shirt. I’m fully clothed by the time the elevator reaches the parking lot level.

“I’ll hand in my resignation tomorrow, Dr. Nathan Amherst,” she tells me as the doors slide open.FourKaylaWhat is wrong with me? I crawled up my boss like he was a freaking tree. Before we’d even gotten on the elevator he’d made it clear that he didn’t want to go anywhere with me. In a small space of time we went from going to have dinner together to him trying to get away from me as quickly as he possibly could. So much so that he tried to close the elevator doors on me. I’m not really sure why his demeanor changed. The only thing I do know is that I am crushing on him. Hard.

I must have done something, and he picked up on it. He probably wanted to make sure we weren’t blurring any lines and that we remained professional. I’m guessing his attitude change was his way of drawing the line in the sand. It was abrupt, and I couldn't fight the sting I’d felt when he made it clear he didn't want me to be in a small space with him.

He had the foresight to see that I would attach myself to him given the chance. I’ve lived up to that. I clung to him in the dark. It’s a silly thing to be afraid of, but I could never shake the fear. I still leave a light on in my bathroom with the door creaked an inch at night when I go to bed.