It Began in an Elevator – by AMANDA EIFERT

It Began In An Elevator

It began in an elevator.

One of those unexpected moments which occur in life. You were gazing at me and I looked up at you transfixed; there was a sparkle in your blue eyes.

As the elevator went higher, the people emptied out onto their respective floors. Eventually, we were alone.

I felt my breathing quicken and could hear your breath speed up beside me. I listened to you breathe, your breaths going in and out. Desire for you rushed through my veins.

There had been a meter between us in the elevator, now you somehow were right beside me. I could smell your cologne, ocean, vanilla, and a note of something sweet.

I felt your eyes peering down at me, inspecting me from head to toe. The mirrors around the elevator reflected my image: Shiny black booties, polka-dot hose, a black A-line skirt, and a hot-pink sleeveless blouse. Makeup lightly done, eyes bare except for mascara and black eyeliner, and pink lipstick. My light blond hair was braided, stray hairs framing my face.

You saw me catch you, giving me the once over and you smiled genuinely, daring me to look you over. My eyes discovered your form: tall, and lithely muscled, wearing a navy pin stripped suit, grey dress shirt, and a grey-blue tie. The tie matched your blue eyes exactly and your face was freshly shaved with a defined jaw; brown hair curling slightly at your collar.

I blushed, staring at my booties, comparing them to your designer shoes. It felt as if the elevator wasn’t moving at all, or maybe time was standing still.

“You look pretty,” you told me. Your voice deep and a bit husky. “I like your perfume, it’s floral but not overwhelming; it smells delicious.” You gave me a devastating smile and I nearly swooned.

Instead, I gathered my wits and smiled back at you, blushing.”I like your navy suit,” I stammered. “The blue, blue of the tie and the navy of the suit, it matches your great eyes. And your cologne, it smells wonderful.”

I couldn’t believe what I said. I saw you grinning at me from the corner of my eye as I stared shyly down at my boots.  It wasn’t normal for me to be so nervous but my heart beat furiously, around you.

You tipped my chin up to look me in the eye.

“The elevator. It’s not moving,” I said.

You chuckled, “I made it stop. If only for a moment or two.”

“Why?”

But then, your lips touched mine. Soft and questing at first. Gently, coaxing my month open, until your tongue danced inside. Rubbing and sucking on my tongue, causing me to sigh and fall against you.

I returned your kiss grabbing the lapels of your jacket, kissing you harder, wanting more of you, of your magic taste, your delicious mouth all over my skin. Your arms came around my body, holding me close.

Suddenly, the elevator started moving up again. We both pulled back from each other panting.

“Why did it start again?” I asked.

You gazed at me with your intense blue eyes, still gathering yourself. “I’m not sure. You have to have high-clearance to make the elevator start and stop. I didn’t make the elevator move again. Believe me!”

Before we could say more, a beautiful woman with dark hair, walked into the elevator on the twenty-sixth floor. The woman smiled at us both, not oblivious to what had gone on between us minutes before.

“You have lipstick on your face, darling,” she said to you. Your face went pale and you tried to speak but the woman only laughed at you.”Don’t say a thing, you do this all time. But I’m your wife and I know, you’ll always come back to me.”

Your wife exited at the top most floor and you gave me a meaningful look, whispering: “I’m sorry.” In only a few minutes, you broke my heart.

What is it about elevators? I wondered later. My recent experience with you made me think of many TV shows and movies, where elevators have great symbolic and/or metaphorical value.

Elevators are the place for the beginnings of trysts and romances, as I had hoped today would be. They are the places stopped in order for people to reveal truths and secrets. They are a place where often, everyday manners and values are forgotten quickly. Elevators can even be symbolic of life and death.

Today, I felt cheated. I thought the elevator was our beginning. In reality, I had been caught in the middle of some rotting relationship. You were extremely deceitful and right now, I can’t forgive you for what you did. Your lies have killed my attraction to you.

So much so, on Monday when I see you get into an elevator, I will wait for the next elevator going up to arrive. I know you’ll notice, it’s exactly what I hope.

***

Amanda Eifert is a writer, blogger, and student from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. She enjoys yoga, walking, drawing, the Edmonton sports scene, and spending time with her friends and family. Her blog is www.mandibelle16.wordpress.com and includes fiction, poetry, and nonfiction writing. She has her BA in English Literature from Concordia University of Edmonton.