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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: acrophob.txt (MF, exh, reluc)
Authors name: Marcia Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)
Story title : Acrophobia
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Copyright 2002. As the author, I claim all rights under
international copyright laws. This work is not intended
for sale, but please feel free to post this story to
other archives or newsgroups, keeping the header and
text intact. Any commercial use of this work is
expressly forbidden without the written permission of
the author.
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Acrophobia (MF, exh, reluc)
by Marcia Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)
***
Romona has a fear of heights. Also a fear of enclosed
spaces. Can you imagine her horror then, of boarding a
scenic elevator going to the top of New York's third
tallest building? Only Romona has no idea how bad her
fear of heights can be. Nor what being trapped in an
elevator with her amorous boyfriend can lead to. This
afternoon she will find out. So will her fellow
passengers. Join Romona on her four-page odyssey of
phobia busting.
***
This is a work of fiction and is not meant to portray
any person living or dead, nor any known situation. This
story is meant for adults only and is not to be read by
people under the age of 18, or the legal age in the
county/state/country in which the reader resides.
If you would like a Microsoft Word or WordPerfect
version of this story (a much easier read), please
contact me at MarciaR26@aol.com
*
It was the tallest building Romona had ever seen.
She stood on the sidewalk, head back, staring upwards.
Barely visible through the afternoon haze, sunlight
reflecting off the glass, the top seemed to rear over
her like a threatening bear. She experienced vertigo.
Oh, my God, she thought. We're going to the top of that?
Claustrophobic as well as afraid of heights, Romona
couldn't imagine boarding an elevator in this building,
much less riding it to the top.
"Ready?" Jason asked.
Romona shook her head.
Laughing, Jason took her by the elbow, and led Romona
toward the entrance. Once beneath canopy, she lowered
her head again, but continued to see the spire in her
mind. She shivered lightly.
"It'll be fine," Jason said.
Right! she thought. When pigs fly.
Inside the lobby, Romona looked first to her left and
then to her right. Impressively high ceilinged, the
lobby was spartanly bare, with only a security desk and
several marble benches breaking the floor. Brass,
polished to a mirror-like intensity, trimmed the
interior doors and the windows. There was a bar to her
left with elegant brass stools; to her right were the
immense brass doors of the restaurant. The elevator
banks, straight ahead, were also trimmed in brass. The
reflected sunlight hurt her eyes.
Leading Romona to the desk, Jason asked the guard for
The Lexington Group. Looking them over, the guard asked
a series of perfunctory question, then instructed Jason
to the eightieth floor. They were both given badges.
Both put them on.
Seeing Romona's discomfort over the security
arrangements, the guard said: "Thank our terrorist
friends for that." Then he grinned. "Be glad we don't do
pat down's anymore, and strip-searches."
Romona laughed, unsure if the comment was facetious.
Jason led her to the elevators.
"Relax," he said. "You look like a hostage."
She felt that way too.
Dressed in a cobalt blue skirt and jacket, with a white
blouse beneath, Romona looked both ravishing and
professional. Blonde, with shoulder length hair--now
atop her head in a neat bun--she wore tortoise shell
glasses and hoop earrings. Her skirt was moderately
short, showing off her pretty legs. She wore a pearl
necklace and black, five-inch heels. Beneath her skirt,
Romona was bare.
"They all want to fuck you," Jason said.
"Who?" Romona whispered, looking around.
"The men in the bar."
Romona found a handful of men observing her with
interest. Most of them smiled. Romona, aware of how much
she looked like the Assistant District Attorney on Law &
Order, SVU, understood why. She looked quickly away.
"They'd like to see what you look like under those
clothes," Jason said. "And on their cocks."
"Stop it!" she pleaded. "I'm embarrassed enough!"
"You don't know what embarrassment is," he said. Which,
of course, was a lie. Romona lived in embarrassment.
With a soft chime, the doors opened and Romona stepped
in. Jason moved in beside her. Two women and four men
joined them, all of whom looked impatient. The men tried
not to stare. The women, good looking themselves,
scrutinized Romona from head to toe. They looked
slightly unsettled.
Jason pushed the button for the thirtieth floor--the sky
lobby--and the doors closed. Other buttons were pushed.
Surreptitiously, he put his hand on Romona's rear end
and then caressed it. She could only hope the others
didn't see.
They'd like to see what you look like under those
clothes, Romona. And on their cocks.
What are we doing here? she wondered.
Being alone for the weekend was remarkable enough--alone
with Jason was astounding. Living in Pittsburgh with her
husband and two kids--Jason lived in Philadelphia--she
saw him rarely. Twice in the past year. Now, she was
desperate for his cock.
The elevator stopped on the seventh floor and one man
and one woman got off. Both looked cautiously back.
Jason kept his hand on Romona's rear end, and she fought
not to fidget. Her face remained tight. Four harried
looking men, who also tried not to stare, replaced the
departing duo. She doors closed, and the elevator
started to rise.
Romona was a programmer, attending a four-day seminar at
the Hyatt Regency Hotel. An investment banker with J.P.
Morgan-Chase, Jason was in town for a banker's
convention. They both had rooms at the New Yorker Hotel,
on Thirty-fourth Street, but not adjoining rooms. Romona
was in Suite 1801 by the elevators; Jason occupied Suite
1810. They were a hallway's length apart.
"We should have taken the express," Romona whispered.
Jason squeezed her butt.
Why are we here when we could be in bed? she wondered.
Why are you here at all?
Jason traveled twice a year to Pittsburgh, where they
had met four years before. They both were married.
Romona had two kids at the time and was twenty-four
years old. Now she was twenty-eight. Jason had three
kids and a gorgeous wife that he was not about to leave.
The elevator stopped and three women and a man got on.
Romona made room. Jason let go of her butt. She still
felt his hand, and her entire body felt warm. She felt
school-girlishly giddy.
Oh, Romona, she thought. You are in trouble!
A voice inside her laughed.
The elevator halted and rose three more times, the cab
becoming full. Men flanked her on all sides. Jason
reclaimed her butt and by the thirtieth floor, she was
glad to join the exodus into the lobby. Her breathing
and heart rate had alarmingly climbed. When she
swallowed, her throat gave an audible click.
"We'll take the express this time," Jason promised. He
held her about the waist. "You okay?"
"Just needed some space."
Jason led her across the lobby, where they both looked
south, across the dozen or more blocks to the World
Trade Center. Dust partially blocked the view, but
Romona saw the towering cranes and the immense, claw-
handed excavators; the site was almost cleared. It had
been nearly a year.
"Did you know anyone?" she abruptly asked.
Jason slowly nodded. "A couple of guys. A woman too. She
was in the South Tower when it fell. Above the crash
zone. She never stood a chance. None of them did."
Romona's husband had lost a cousin in the North Tower, a
Port Authority policeman. Romona lost a friend in the
Pennsylvania crash, though she didn't know it for a
month. Reading her friend's name in Newsweek one day,
Romona had broken into tears.
Returning to the elevators, they joined half a dozen
others. Romona checked to make sure it was express. Then
she took Jason's hand. She almost said, "I love you."
God! she thought in shock. I am in trouble.
When the elevator doors opened, Romona was startled
again. The elevator had a no rear wall. It was a scenic
view.
"What's the matter?" Jason said, much too calmly.
Romona rapidly blinked. "It's glass," she said,
unthinkingly; those around her laughed. "Can't we go
another way?"
Jason fought a grin. "Not if you want express."
"Jason--" she said. She gulped loudly again. "I can't."
"Sure you can. The glass is thick, perfectly safe."
"But I'm afraid of heights!"
"You're inside a closed space," he countered. "With
three solid walls."
"But I'm claustrophobic, as well!"
The others laughed again.
Whispered comments passed back and forth and a man held
his finger on the hold button, allowing Romona to
squirm. Finally, their condescending grins made her step
forward. "Just don't let go," she said, taking his arm.
The doors closed, and everyone turned to look outside.
There were assorted oohs and ahhs, fingers were pointed,
and even Romona could appreciate the view. She refused
to let Jason move forward, however. "This is close
enough," she said.
Nodding, Jason slipped his hand over her rear end. He
caressed her inner thigh. Romona squirmed. People were
casting backward glances.
"Quit it!" she hissed.
Then Jason bushwhacked her. Raising the back of her
skirt, he ran his finger along the crack of her ass, and
then between her labia. He entered her vagina. Romona
almost died.
"What are you doing!" her eyes screamed. "Are you nuts?"
Jason's finger moved deeper inside, making Romona
shudder. Her legs involuntarily splayed.
Please don't let anyone see! she thought. Please don't
let anyone see!
Leaning close, she whispered in his ear: "Stop it! Have
you lost your mind?"
"Only my finger," Jason teased.
"Jason!"
Laughing, Jason took his finger out. He clasped Romona's
hand, intertwining her fingers with his own. Her skirt
was still up.
"Jason!"
"What?"
"You need to put it down!"
"I'm letting you cool off," he said.
She needed to cool. Blood raced through her vessels,
pounding her head. Her breath threatened to seize. And
all the while, standing there, she waited for someone to
see. Somehow, no one had.
Nearing the sixtieth floor, the elevator was beginning
to slow. People were turning around. Sneaking her hand
to her rear end, Romona clutched her skirt and pulled it
down. Jason stopped her. Looking into her eyes, he
smiled teasingly, then released her hand. She lowered
her skirt the rest of the way. But not soon enough.
Startled, two of the passengers looked quickly at her
hips, then quickly away. A pair of thirty-something
females, wearing skirts and jackets themselves, went
round in the eye. Red-faced, Romona looked away.
Thank you! she thought. You have just made my day!
When the doors opened again, Jason drew Romona aside.
They let the others out. Only when the elevator started
filling again, did Jason release. Romona hurried off.
"Relax," he whispered, taking her arm. "You've been seen
before."
"Not like that!" she hissed.
Many passengers had remained in the lobby, waiting for
the next lift. All but two were men. Jason moved her
before the local elevators and Romona stared at the
enunciator, her heart pounding. She felt the attention
of the crowd. How many knew what Jason had done?
How many were thrilled?
When the elevator arrived, Jason led Romona aboard. The
others joined them and Romona strove not to fidget.
Pushing the button marked eighty, Jason stood aside and
let others select their floors. In all, seven buttons
were pushed; four below the eightieth floor, and three
above. Then Jason took hold of her tail.
If asked beforehand if she ever imagined being bare-
bottomed in an elevator, Romona would have laughed. And
been insulted. She may even have slapped the asker's
face. But here she was with Jason's hand on her ass, and
now slipping between her cheeks. Romona kept her eyes
squarely on the display.
"Like that?" Jason whispered.
Romona fought with her heart. It wanted to burst. "You
do," she said.
"Want me to take it out?"
Romona fought her reflex to squirm. She loathed her
excitement. She felt totally perverse.
"You do whatever you want," she said, keeping her eyes
on the changing digits.
The elevator stopped at the sixty-eighth floor and three
men got off. One man got on. The man directly to her
left, against the rear wall, understood what was going
on. Or at least he suspected. Jason felt his attention
as well, because his finger went deeper.
"Twelve more floors to go," he said. "Three more stops.
Think you can make it?"
Romona said, "I think I might die."
Laughing, Jason moved his finger tantalizingly in
circles. Romona whispered: "Why don't you just fuck me
right here? Pull the Stop button and put me down on my
hands and knees. Do me the way you want?"
Jason laughed. "The alarm'd go off."
"The alarm is going off," she hissed. "If you hadn't
noticed!"
Indeed is was. Three men were showing intense
discomfort, and two of the women. They shuffled back and
forth, making apologetic sounds. From the sound of their
breathing, the men were turned on. The elevator stopped.
"Seventy-three," Jason said, obligingly.
The two women hurried off, though it wasn't their floor.
The two men hurried off behind them. Romona prayed no
one would else enter, and no one did. The elevator doors
closed again. They began to ascend.
"Two more," Jason said. "Then we'll get off."
I won't make it that long! she thought
With so much empty space, Romona's plight was now
unmistakable. The man against the rear wall stared
intently and so did three of the others. None seemed to
believe this was real. One man, blinking rapidly,
scanned the ceilings and walls for a hidden camera. The
man against the rear wall grinned. He had a powerful
erection.
Romona thought: I'm not getting it off this elevator
alive!
The elevator stopped.
"Seventy-seven," Jason said.
None of the others left.
Romona, standing zombie-like by the door, her hips
rotating uncontrollably to the rotating finger, finally
lost her focus. "Please close the doors," she begged.
"Before somebody else comes on."
The doors slid silently closed.
"Turn around," Jason said.
Obediently, Romona turned to face the wall. She spread
her legs and leaned forward, hands against the cab. She
was beginning to moan.
"Like that, don't you," Jason observed.
Romona moaned even more loudly. Her forehead hit the
wall. Jason's finger, embedded fully within her ass,
drove her toward orgasm.
"Please, God!" she begged. "Please let me come! I just
need to come!"
Not only were her thoughts out of control, but so was
her mouth.
"No!" she suddenly cried. "Oh, God, no!"
Jason, reacting to her climax, reached out and pulled
the stop. The elevator halted, and the alarm began to
sound. Romona, writhing with orgasm, banged hard against
the wall.
"Jason!" she squealed. "Stop! Please make him stop!
You're driving me crazy!"
Her tail, with Jason's finger inside, rotated and shook.
"I can't!" she cried. "I just can't!"
Suddenly, an orgasm wracked her and banging headfirst
against the wall, she wailed, "Maawahhhhh!" and then,
"Maawahhhhh!" again, and then Jason was up her with his
cock and fucking Romona hard, and she wailed as she took
him deep. "Fuck me!" she screamed. "Fuck me hard!"
Then Jason erupted in her ass.
"Oh, God, Jason! Yes! Yes, Jason, yes!"
Jason yanked her away from the wall and bent Romona
double. She put her hands flat on the floor. She
continued to wail.
"More, Jason! More!" Her face screwed up into a grimace.
"Give me more!" she cried, even though Jason had all
eight inches within her.
Thrusting backwards she impaled herself on his cock,
bruising her rectum, making her anus scream. She'd pay
hell for this tomorrow! She'd pay hell for this tonight!
And six men, Romona knew, would never forget this ride.
**
Exiting the elevator, Romona looked neither left, nor
right. She walked beside Jason toward the guard desk,
ignoring the eyes upon her. Eyes that she imagined knew.
She did not imagine her own stiffness. Her whole body
ached.
Returning her visitor's pass, Romona offered a tiny
smile. The guard was flirtatious, but nothing more. She
continued to the doors.
Outside, the air was warm and the sunlight bright; she
retrieved her sunglasses and put them on. A breeze
fanned her arms and her legs; it tugged at her tucked-
away hair. Taxicabs honked, and Jason raised his hand.
"I say we head for the hotel," he said. "What do you
think?"
Romona bobbed her head. She'd think about eating later.
She'd think about doing anything else, later.
Watching a cab free itself from traffic, she said: "Does
Philadelphia have any tall buildings? I mean, really
tall buildings? I seem to have lost my fear of heights."
The End
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 20