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Lance Simmons almost dropped his tool box as he dashed across the
hotel lobbyway, en route for the closing elevator door. He made it
just in time, sticking his arm out just before the door closed. The
door then re-opened, and catching his breath, Lance stepped into the
elevator and pressed the button for the 43rd floor.
It only took a few seconds for Lance to realize that he was not
alone in the elevator. He looked behind him and noticed a beautiful,
ravishing blonde-haired woman standing against the back wall of the
elevator, wearing an expensive business outfit, holding a leather
tote-bag in front of her. She looked extremely young - no more than 21,
if even that.
"What are you looking at?" the woman blurted out in a snotty tone,
glancing meanly at the man.
"Uhh... nothing," Lance replied, turning his head the other way.
What a beautiful woman, he said to himself. But if her initial voice
was any indication of her personality, Lance figured, she was not the
type of woman to persue. Never before had someone sounded so conceited.
As the elevator began to ascend, something popped up in Lance's
mind. That lady looked familiar to him. What a minute! There was a
reason she looked familiar to him. In fact, he knew who she was!
"You're Tiffany Wilson!" Lance exclaimed, spinning around and
looking at the woman in disbelief.
She gave an exasperated look and then shrugged her shoulders. "So?"
Lance ripped open his tool box, searching for a piece of paper and a
pen. "Wow! This is incredible! Can I have your autograph? Wow! My
little brother just loves you!"
The blonde took in a deep breath, then spoke in a very demeaning
tone. "Look, I DON'T do autographs."
Lance stopped, looking up at her with a stunned expression. She was
much different than what he had previously envisioned her as...
To anyone who owned a television, 19-year-old Tiffany Wilson was a
superstar. She was the marquee name on SEASIDE LODGE, a network program
which always ranked high in the weekly television ratings. People knew
her as Amber Sheridan, the sexy and flirtatious maid of a little motel
situated on the California coast. Before she landed this role, Tiffany
had made her mark in the entertainment community as a fashion model.
She had two calendars out, plus a workout video and even a commercial
for a mascara company. At 19, she literally had the world at her feet.
"You don't do autographs?" the repairman asked, crestfallen. "All I
ask for is one... that's all. My little brother, he has your calendar
up on his wall and he watches your show every single week. He just
loves you more than any other..."
"LOOK," Tiffany repeated, now in a firm tone, "I DON'T do autographs
for ANYONE. I could care less about your worthless little brother."
Lance gave an expression of confusion and then turned his head
quickly, so the famous star could not see his new look of disgust.
What a fucking bitch, he said to himself. She could have told him about
her "no autograph" rule in a much nicer and more polite way, instead of
just being snotty and demeaning him and his brother at the same time.
Tiffany sighed and ran a brush through her long, perfectly-styled
hair, eyeing the man from behind. She hated to be in the same elevator
with someone his type. "I'm a million dollar star," she told herself.
"And I have to share an elevator with some lousy repairman. This hotel
should have elevators for stars. After all, lots of stars come here."
"You know," Lance said, breaking the woman's train of thought. He
kept looking straight ahead, not turning to peer back at her. "You
must really be a good actress."
"Thanks," she said, squinting suspiciously at him.
"Yeah," he added. "Your character on TV is so nice and sweet. You
on the other hand, in real life, are nothing but a spoiled little brat.
No one would really know that unless you met you for real."
"WHAT?" Tiffany screamed, full of rage and anger. "You can't talk
to me like that!"
"Who says?" Lance asked, now turning around to face her.
"Me!" she exclaimed, taking a swing and hitting him in the shoulder.
Lance, who prided himself on never raising a hand to strike a woman,
just stood there and shook his head at her, as she fumed before him.
No one had probably ever opposed her like this before, he told himself.
This bitch actress probably had people eating out of her hands on a
Tiffany reached into her tote-bag and scrambled for her celluar
phone. "I'm going to call security on you!" she screamed. "You can't
talk to me that way! I'm Tiffany Wilson, damnit!"
"Look," Lance said, "let's just forget it, okay?"
"Wouldn't you like to do that!" she huffed.
"Yeah, I would," he told her, matter of factly. "Plus, if you call
security on me, I'll get them on you too. You're the one who hit me.
I did nothing but call you a spoiled little brat."
Tiffany stopped and looked up at him, frozen. She could not afford
any bad press in the tabloid media. Those nasty reporters would carve
her up if they learned that she was even accused of punching someone.
Her career may take a massive hit, then she may be finished!
So, Tiffany closed her tote-bag and looked at the repairman with a
confident, sure expression. "Okay, you got yourself a deal. Just don't
bother me anymore. What floor are we up to, anyway?"
Lance glared at her then looked at the control panel. "22." He
turned around so he wasn't facing her anymore. He then noticed that
she was apparently headed to the 51st floor, 8 higher than him. The
button for the 51st floor was lit up, as was the 43rd floor button.
Lance, a handyman whose employer had a contract with this hotel,
had been sent here to fix the air conditioner in one of the rooms. He
was 31 years old and had been in the repair business since graduating
from college. Just an average joe, Lance wore faded blue jeans and an
old t-shirt. A full tool belt was around his waist, and he carried a
tool box in his right hand as well.
Lance tapped his foot on the elevator floor as the compartment went
higher and higher in the building, wanting to get away from this crass,
snobby actress. He wondered to himself whether or not he should tell
his brother of this experience. It would dampen his brother's image of
Tiffany, whom he thought of as the perfect "dream girl". Lance then
wondered to himself, would his brother believe that his "dream girl"
could be such a bitch? After all, the media gushed over her. All
Lance had heard was that this actress could be worthy of sainthood.
He was always hearing stories of her helping children and donating to
many charities. He also heard stories of how she never turned down an
autograph request. "I like to interact with my fans," he heard her
once say in a national interview. Yeah, right!
Meanwhile, Tiffany applied more mascara to her already perfect face.
She was on her way to a very important meeting with a movie producer,
with the possibility of landing a starring role on a high-budget film.
That is why she was dressed so professionally, wearing a red business
jacket and a knee-length red skirt, to go along with dark stockings
and black high-heels. She wore a ton of jewelrey and smelled of only
the finest, most expensive perfumes and fragnances.
"Come on," Tiffany said, impatient, watching the elevator console
flash the current floor. 34. A few seconds later, 35. Then 36.
All of a sudden, the lights in the elevator went out and it came
to a rocky, screeching halt. Seconds later, both Lance and Tiffany were
stunned as a dimmer light suddenly filled the compartment.
Tiffany looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened.
Then it was time for her to explode. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!?"
Lance had seen something like this happen before. "Looks like the
electricity went out," he told her calmly.
"ELECTRICITY OUT?" she boomed. "They have to fix it! I have a
very important meeting to go to!"
"Calm down," he said, amazed at her brashness. She was such a
sweetheart on television - at least the character she played was. "I'm
sure the electricity will come back on very soon."
The minutes passed, and the electricity did not come back on. Lance
stood patiently, while Tiffany paced back and forth frantically. "Not
only will I be late for the meeting," she told herself, "but I have to
stay here longer with THIS." She looked at the repairman, sneering.
"Did you do this?" she asked him, very angry. "Did you cause the
electricity to go out just so you could be stuck in here with me?"
Lance laughed, and shook his head. "No way. I think the last
thing I want is to be stuck in here with YOU, Miss Wilson."
Tiffany gave him a mean look as she shook her head. "I'm going to
call this damn hotel's front desk and see what the problem is!" She
reached back into her tote-bag and pulled out her celluar phone.
"You do that," Lance said, dropping his tool belt and placing his
tool box on the floor. "But I'm going to sit down and relax."
Tiffany found out from hotel administration that there was a major
electricity blackout in the city. The hotel had a backup generator,
which provided the dim lights that illuminated the elevator compartment,
but the generator was not powerful enough to move the elevator.
Angry, she demanded that they get a hotel worker to climb down the
elevator shaft and get her out of here. But the administrator told her
that would be too dangerous. Tiffany then hung up, disgusted.
A few minutes later, Tiffany had joined Lance on the floor, though
she was seated on the other side of the elevator. She didn't want to
be near him, at all. The starlet had calmed down considerably, although
she was still furious on the inside for this power outage.
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"
Tiffany looked up, in response the question from Lance. She gave
him another mean look and said, "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your attitude," he replied, in a firm tone. "All
I did was ask for one little autograph. That is no reason to blow up
and explode in my face, in anger. I never did anything to you."
Tiffany sighed, then shook her head. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just
EVERY single place I go, people want autographs. If they don't want
autographs, people are taking pictures of me. I just don't like it.
Sometimes I wish people would just leave me alone."
Ahh, Lance said to himself. The hint of an actual human being?
"That's the price of being famous."
"Still doesn't mean I have to like it," she sighed. "I would just
like to have one day where I can go places and be myself, and not worry
about being spotted or hounded for autographs."
"Regardless of who you are," Lance said, "you will get spotted with
such a nasty attitude."
"Who died and made you King?" she snarled back.
Lance shook his head and laughed. "Forget it."
There was a silence between them for at least a minute. They sat
still, each wanting to get out of the others' sights. When would the
damn electricity come back on?
"I'll give you an autograph," Tiffany said, in her nicest tone yet.
"Huh?" Lance asked, looking up at her in surprise.
"I'll give you an autograph," she insisted, her voice returning to
its normal tone. "I figure we might as well get along. God knows how
long we'll be trapped in here." Tiffany was lying. She didn't want to
get along with him. She just wanted to shut him up. She thought by
giving him an autograph, he wouldn't bother her any longer.
"I don't want your damn autograph," he told her.
"What?" she snapped. "I thought you did! What about your brother?"
She reached into her tote-bag and pulled out a pad and paper. "Tell me
his name and I'll write out a little message for him."
Lance sighed in disgust, knowing how much his little brother would
cherish an autograph from his favorite television actress. "Kevin. His
name is Kevin." Lance watched as Tiffany wrote out a message on her
notepad. She ripped the sheet off and then gave it to him.
"Dear Kevin - Thanks for being a fan!
Keep watching me on the show!
Lance smirked as he read the note, noticing the huge heart that
Tiffany had drawn next to her name. She should have drawn a lump of
coal, he told himself. It would have fit her disposition much better.
"Thanks," he said off handedly, slipping the note into a folder
sleeve in his tool box made specifically to hold paper.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW HOT IT IS IN HERE?" Tiffany screamed into her
celluar phone, an hour later, on the line with the hotel manager. "I
have been stuck in this elevator forever and without any air to cool
this place down, it now feels like a blasting FURNACE!"
Lance shook his head and smiled as he watched her.
"What do you mean, you can't do anything?" she hollered into the
speaker. "Get a worker to go into the elevator shaft, and get me out
of here! I'm burning up!"
"Two hours!" she boomed seconds later. "Well that's just fine! I
can assure you that I will never do business with this hotel again, and
I will discourage any of my friends as well!" She hung up.
Tiffany stomped her high-heeled foot into the plush carpet of the
elevator. "Damn people! They now say they'll only send someone to us
in the elevator shaft if the power doesn't come back on two hours. That
would classify as an 'emergency' in their eyes."
Lance wiped his sweat-covered forehead with an old rag. Without the
air conditioner on, the temperature in the elevator had risen
dramatically. It was a very hot day outside, at least 100 degrees. It
felt that same way in the elevator, if not worse.
"What are you doing?" Tiffany demanded as she watched Lance slip his
t-shirt up and over his head.
"I don't know about you," he said, standing up, "but I'm not going
to sit here in clothes and roast like a pig."
"You can't take your clothes off!" she exclaimed.
"Don't worry," he told her, stepping out of his work boots. "I will
not go totally naked on you. I'll just strip down to my boxers."
"What!?" Tiffany exploded. "Put your clothes back on!"
Lance unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down. Tiffany cringed and
turned her face in disgust. "I'm not going to swelter in this heat," he
told her. "Once the electricity comes back and this thing starts moving
again, I'll put my clothes back on."
Tiffany shook her head in total disbelief. Why did she have to be
trapped in this elevator? Why did the electricity have to shut off when
she was in this elevator? "I'm better than this!" she told herself.
For the first time, however, Tiffany noticed Lance as someone other
than a stereotypical, dirty workman. She watched him settle down into
the corner, wearing only silk boxers, the remainder of his clothes piled
next to him on the floor.
Lance had a muscular frame and his body was well-defined, especially
his chest, which looked strong and powerful. He had wide, broad
shoulders and a lot of muscle tone in his arms. He also had a stomach
which was as hard as a washboard. Tiffany even noticed that his face
wasn't all that bad-looking, either. He was, in fact, quite handsome.
But she shoved those thoughts out of her mind, turning around so she
couldn't see him. "Please put your clothes back on," she almost whined.
"What happens if the elevator starts up and we reach the floor before
you can get dressed? What happens if there is some tabloid person
waiting for me, with a camera? They could take a picture and then the
whole world would see me in an elevator with a near naked man. Those
nasty tabloids would come up with all sorts of wild assumptions!"
"See this button?" Lance said, pointing up to one. "It says,
'emergency stop'. I can press it and it will halt the elevator until
it is pressed again. That will give me plenty of time to get dressed."
Tiffany stomped her foot against the floor again. "What happens if
a technician overrides the button before you can get dressed?"
"I suggest you do the same," Lance told her.
"What?" she asked, looking back at him.
"Take off your clothes and get more comfortable," he replied. "I
can see that you're obviously sweating from this heat."
"NO WAY!" she exploded. "I'M NOT TAKING MY CLOTHES OFF! OH! You
would like that, wouldn't you!? You could go around and tell all your
friends that you saw Tiffany Wilson stripped down to her bra and
panties! Well, no way! I'll roast in this heat before I undress!"
"I wouldn't tell anyone," Lance said, in a disgruntled voice. "I
don't do that sort of thing. Besides, you'd be more comfortable if
you took that thick jacket off. Why don't you take it off, at least?"
Tiffany looked down at her red blazer. "Because I'm not wearing a
blouse underneath it!" She turned away from him, trembling with anger.
"I won't tell anyone, I promise," he said. "Look, I won't try
anything either, if that's what you're afraid of. Don't you think if
I did want to try something, I would have done so already? We've been
in here for almost an hour and a half."
"I won't take my clothes off! Ever!"
People change their mind. Even Tiffany Wilson.
15 minutes later, she sat in the opposite corner of the elevator,
her knees curled up to her chest, her arms hooked around them. Her
sportjacket and skirt, plus her high-heels and stockings, were off to
the side. She sat in the elevator, simply wearing a white bra and
matching silk panties. The heat had gotten to her so much, that she
let her guard down - but only after Lance swore on his life that he
would never tell anyone about this. ESPECIALLY the tabloids.
Lance couldn't help but sneak a few peeks at her. She was perfect.
Her body, her skin, everything about her physical appearance was simply
perfect. He could tell that her breasts, though concealed by the bra,
were obviously large and very firm. She had a deep, rich tan and her
legs were long - lusciously long. She had the body that Lance imagined
only a television starlet could have. He wondered if her breasts were
real, though. He had to suppress a smile at that thought.
Though she hated herself for doing it, Tiffany had also peeked at
Lance. He had the type of muscular body which she adored. She loved
the way his pectorals would ripple each time he raised a hand to wipe
his forehead. She even found herself glancing at his boxer shorts,
wondering to herself what was inside of them. Would it be big enough?
She shook her head, trying to drive those thoughts away again.
The dim lighting of the elevator seemed to cast an odd romantic
feeling over them, adding to the sexual hunger they each felt. Tiffany
thought that Lance was extremely handsome - Lance knew that Tiffany was
the sexiest woman he had ever laid eyes upon in his entire lifetime.
Lance remembered something. He had a thermos at the bottom of his
toolbox. If not so rarely used, he would have thought of it earlier.
Tiffany sprung up like a lightning bolt once she saw Lance pull the
thermos from his toolbox. She scurried over to him and dropped to her
knees, then stared at the thermos before looking up at him, her eyes
depicting those of a suddenly desperate woman.
"Please?" she whined. "Please let me have a drink?"
Lance looked at her, shocked. Was she actually begging him? This
spoiled little brat was actually begging him for something? He had to
hold back a smile at the realization that yes, she was begging him.
After the snotty attitude she had earlier displayed, Lance thought this
new side of her was rather humorous.
"Thirsty?" he simply asked.
"Yes!" she whined. "Please let me have a drink?"
Lance couldn't deny her. He wasn't that type of person. "Okay, but
only after I get a drink first. And save some for later, okay?"
Tiffany watched as he guzzled some of it down. "What is it?"
"Water," he replied. "It's warm water, but it's still water." The
repairman handed the thermos to her. "Here."
Tiffany grabbed the jug and began swallowing the thirst-quenching
water down. As she did, lifting it so her line of sight was no longer
toward Lance, the repairman had an open view of her bra-filled breasts.
Those shapely melons were no more than a foot away from his quivering
hands as Tiffany stopped drinking, saving some of the water for later.
She jumped back, startled, as she noticed Lance had been staring at
her breasts. "Hey!" the blonde snapped. "I thought you said you
wouldn't try anything funny with me!"
"I didn't," he replied, flustered himself. "But you have to realize
that it is very hard for a man like me to be so close to a woman like
you, who is so physically beautiful, in next to no clothing."
Something snapped inside of Tiffany.
She threw herself at Lance, landing in his lap and wrapping her arms
around his muscular shoulders. She attacked his mouth with her own,
driving her tongue deep between his lips and into his mouth, kissing
him with the type of strong passion which he had never felt before.
Lance was stunned. His hands were outstretched and trembling, as
the starlet continued to assault his mouth with her own. He composed
himself and then grabbed her by the shoulders, and pushed her away from
him. "What the hell has gotten into you?" he exclaimed.
Tiffany threw herself at him again. "I WANT YOU!" she exploded in
lust. "I WANT YOU NOW! This heat has me so horny!" Her mouth found
his again, and she attacked it with even more passion than before.
Who in his right mind could refuse the blonde-haired, blue-eyed
wet dream of every American male's fantasy, known as Tiffany Wilson?
He curled his strong arms around her and kissed her with hunger and
passion in return. Tiffany snaked a hand between them and reached down
into his boxers to find his cock, which had been swollen since she had
stripped down to her bra and panties earlier. Tiffany then groaned in
lust, squeezing his hard member, knowing she had found a "big one".
Violently, Tiffany ripped her mouth away from Lance's and then
got onto her knees and leaned over. She tugged his boxers down,
exposing his huge shaft, and then immediately took it into her mouth.
A lustful snort eminated from Lance as the realization started to
set in - Tiffany Wilson - THE Tiffany Wilson, was sucking his cock.
Tiffany Wilson!! It seemed like some elaborate dream, but Lance was
smart enough to realize that this was not a dream. It was REAL.
He watched her blonde head move up and down over his shaft, her
mouth, lips and tongue causing powerful sensations to shoot from his
cock to the rest of his body. The repairman lifted his head and
bounced it off the wall behind him, wild and uncontrollable sparks
running rampant through him. A woman who was willing to perform
fellatio was wonderful, in his eyes.
Lance then reached over and unclasped Tiffany's bra. He pushed the
shoulder straps down and then managed to whisk her bra away. Tiffany
groaned in delight as one of his hardened, calloused hands came into
contact with the fresh, supple skin of her breast. The contrast was
pleasurable enough for her, but things became even better once he
began pumping and squeezing her perfect breast with his work-worn hand.
"I can't take it anymore!" she exclaimed, rising up to a standing
position on her knees. Tiffany slipped her silk panties down and said,
"I want that big monster in my pussy!"
Lance tried to hold her back, but couldn't. "Tiff, we can't... I
don't have a condom with me."
"I don't care!" she gasped, nearly ripping her panties down and off.
"I'm on the pill anyway!"
The actress growled like a wild animal as she lunged herself at
Lance. With him seated against the elevator wall, Tiffany straddled
his hips and then took a seat herself, but on his stiff cock.
"OH YES!" she bellowed out, passionately. "YES! WHAT I WANT!"
Tiffany began to bounce up and down wildly upon his hard member, her
arms wrapped tightly around his broad, muscular shoulders. The blonde
was moving and bouncing so fast that she was nearly out of control.
Lance had never had a woman be so forceful and violent with him
during sex. He was amazed at the actress.
Nevertheless, he gripped her ass tightly with his strong hands, and
helped her bounce even faster atop his erection. It felt soft yet firm
at the same time to him - her ass, that is. The mixture made him come
to the conclusion that her ass was perfect, too.
Their sweaty bodies rocked together and they pounded each other with
an intensity that was even greater than the scorching temperature inside
the elevator. Both screamed and cried in lust, each letting their wild
inhibitions and better judgement go by the wayside. Tiffany wanted to
ride that monster cock for all it was worth, and Lance wanted to give
her all he possibly could - and then even more.
When Lance buried his face in Tiffany's cleavage and began feasting
away with his mouth, she boomed out a scream and then experienced an
orgasm. That triggered Lance's own orgasm, and the two impromptu lovers
shuddered together, hugging and embracing each other in forbidden lust.
"Ooooh," Tiffany purred, her face detracting from his shoulder. She
looked into his eyes and offered her first smile of the afternoon. It
was a beautiful, perfect smile, Lance noted. "Ooooh, that was great,"
she cooed. "Simply FANTASTIC!"
"I couldn't agree more," Lance said, purely and contently. He
brought her lips to his and gently kissed them. Maybe, he thought...
just maybe, she wasn't such a bitch after all. Perhaps, he said to
himself, once he broke through her outer shield, he may have found a
wonderful and compassionate woman who needed someone in her life, just
as he needed someone in his life.
It seemed like a real possibility.
Both shared a loving, tender kiss, each smiling and laughing in the
process. They were happy together.
All of a sudden, the main lights in the elevator switched on, and
then the compartment rattled before beginning its upward ascent again.
The electricity was back on! The electricity was back on!!!
Lance, thinking quickly, reached up and pushed the EMERGENCY STOP
button, bringing the elevator to another halt. He and Tiffany knew
what they had to do. In a hurry, both of them dressed, hastily throwing
on their clothes. They were afraid that a technician may override the
button, thus sending them up before they were dressed. That is why
both of them hurried. Tiffany was thinking of her career and image,
not wanting to be seen half naked in an elevator with a man.
Lance was thinking the same way - concerned for her image.
After a minute or so, both were dressed and composed. Fortunately,
the elevator did not start moving until Lance pushed the button.
Meanwhile, Tiffany had reached into her tote-bag and pulled out her pen
and notepad again. She quickly jotted down a few things which she felt
Lance needed to remember.
"Here," the starlet said, ripping the sheet off and handing it to
him, "this is the address to a nice little restaurant on the west side.
Why don't you meet me there, tomorrow night, at eight o'clock?" She
winked at him. "Hopefully, the night will end up at my condo."
Lance shook his head and laughed, completely shocked that this
superstar of an actress had basically asked him out on a date. "I'll
be there," he told her, holding on tight to the paper.
"I could never show up for that meeting looking like this," she
whined, looking into her pocket mirror. Anyone could tell with her
dishelved hair and smeared make-up that she had just been through a
wild round of sex. "I'll just have to reschedule. James will do it
for me. He needs me for that movie part."
Lance smiled, listening to the blonde chatter amongst only herself.
The elevator then reached the 43rd floor... it was time for Lance to
get off. The door opened but no one appeared to be in sight. Tiffany
noticed that, then gave her repairman stud a hard, passionate kiss on
the mouth. Lance smiled and stumbled out of the elevator, his tool box
in hand. Tiffany grinned and waved at him as the door closed.
"Pretty eventful day," Lance said, turning and walking toward the
room in which the air conditioner was he was supposed to fix. "Woke
up, showered, went to work, got stuck in an elevator with a TV star,
fucked the TV star - Tiffany Wilson, no less... now I'm off to fix an
air conditioner." He laughed and said, "Ahh, just a regular day!"
End of Story