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“Aw, shit.” Henry muttered as the elevator shook and ground to a halt. He was stuck between floors again. He could just picture his wife, Dolores, across town waiting at the curb, growing a little more impatient with each passing moment. Damn. No matter what the reason for his delay, Dolores would be plenty pissed.

“Shit,” Henry said again, jamming a finger into every one of the elevator’s buttons at least twice. When he hit the red one, a loud bell went off and resonated throughout the chute.

Then, from above, Henry heard the slam of a thick metal door. Next came the creak of cables, the same creak the elevator made on its descent. Finally there were some scraping sounds on the roof of the car itself.

Henry checked his watch. He just might make it after all. He looked up just in time to see the metal plate on the ceiling of the car slide aside.

Henry blinked when he saw stiletto heels straddling the opening.

“Catch me,” she ordered. She began lowering herself into the car.

Henry gulped hard and reached up to anchor the girl’s trim ankle.

“I’m going to drop now,” she said. “You’ll have to help.”

But Henry was paralyzed, looking up under her skirt now. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, and she’d shaved down there too. Henry could see the lips of her vagina winking at him.

“Here I come,” she said.

Henry’s mouth gaped as she came lower, lower, lower. He was mesmerized by the sight of her naked cunt. He was sure that he would fall with her to the floor, his tongue deep within her, but there was nothing — not a thing — that he could do. His arms seemed to act on their own, encircling her legs and then her hips as she inched atop him …

Dolores, meanwhile, paced back and forth in front of the lighting fixture store across the boulevard from the little shopping center where she’d made her purchases. Damn Henry anyway. She did everything to make things easy for him. Where the hell was he? For all she knew, he’d forgotten all about her.

Dolores jerked her wrist up and glared at her watch as if it were the culprit. She opened the door to the lighting shop and stormed inside. She’d let Henry wait for her, that’s what she’d do

The minute the door had whooshed closed behind her, Dolores regretted going inside. Not one, but three young salesmen had begun to move toward her. She hated this kind of hard sell.

She raised her hand at the nearest one as if to ward them all away. “I’m just looking,” she said, surprised to see him break into a dazzling smile.

Against her will, Dolores, slightly flustered, smiled back. She looked at the other two-mere boys, really-still advancing from opposite sides of the room. She was disconcerted to see that they were smiling too. Attractive young men, all of them, say nineteen or twenty years old, she thought to herself.

“Really, fellows,” Dolores said, laughing uncomfortably as she watched the length and ease of their stride. “I’m just waiting for my husband. You know, killing time.”

The men didn’t seem to hear, and continued advancing toward her. They were so close, she could feel the heat of their breath on her. She looked around the store and noted that she was the only customer, indeed the only woman, present.

She felt something deep inside her, a strange internal pulse. “Henry,” she said. “That’s his name. My husband.”

One of the men extended his hand and Dolores took it. Another one slid Dolores’s watch off her wrist. The third young man stepped away and began to remove his clothing, beginning with his tie.

Dolores kicked off her shoes and raised her skirt. Someone helped her with her panty hose. She closed her eyes and felt four hands upon her at once, stroking her vagina, spreading her legs and fingering her lips.

Across the room, in the glow of a thousand lighting fixtures all ablaze at once, the third man, naked now, approached…

Henry and Dolores lay side by side, spent, in the darkness of their marital bedroom. Their breath came short and thick but in unison, as if, after thirteen years of marriage, even their breathing had synchronized.

“After all these years, Doe,” Henry gasped, “it’s still” He paused, as if groping for the word.

“I know,” Dolores answered, snuggling up against him. “It’s electric.”

Delores had plenty of ways to kill time until her husband arrived.

" />

The Faithful

  • 3

Storyline

“Aw, shit.” Henry muttered as the elevator shook and ground to a halt. He was stuck between floors again. He could just picture his wife, Dolores, across town waiting at the curb, growing a little more impatient with each passing moment. Damn. No matter what the reason for his delay, Dolores would be plenty pissed.

“Shit,” Henry said again, jamming a finger into every one of the elevator’s buttons at least twice. When he hit the red one, a loud bell went off and resonated throughout the chute.

Then, from above, Henry heard the slam of a thick metal door. Next came the creak of cables, the same creak the elevator made on its descent. Finally there were some scraping sounds on the roof of the car itself.

Henry checked his watch. He just might make it after all. He looked up just in time to see the metal plate on the ceiling of the car slide aside.

Henry blinked when he saw stiletto heels straddling the opening.

“Catch me,” she ordered. She began lowering herself into the car.

Henry gulped hard and reached up to anchor the girl’s trim ankle.

“I’m going to drop now,” she said. “You’ll have to help.”

But Henry was paralyzed, looking up under her skirt now. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, and she’d shaved down there too. Henry could see the lips of her vagina winking at him.

“Here I come,” she said.

Henry’s mouth gaped as she came lower, lower, lower. He was mesmerized by the sight of her naked cunt. He was sure that he would fall with her to the floor, his tongue deep within her, but there was nothing — not a thing — that he could do. His arms seemed to act on their own, encircling her legs and then her hips as she inched atop him …

Dolores, meanwhile, paced back and forth in front of the lighting fixture store across the boulevard from the little shopping center where she’d made her purchases. Damn Henry anyway. She did everything to make things easy for him. Where the hell was he? For all she knew, he’d forgotten all about her.

Dolores jerked her wrist up and glared at her watch as if it were the culprit. She opened the door to the lighting shop and stormed inside. She’d let Henry wait for her, that’s what she’d do

The minute the door had whooshed closed behind her, Dolores regretted going inside. Not one, but three young salesmen had begun to move toward her. She hated this kind of hard sell.

She raised her hand at the nearest one as if to ward them all away. “I’m just looking,” she said, surprised to see him break into a dazzling smile.

Against her will, Dolores, slightly flustered, smiled back. She looked at the other two-mere boys, really-still advancing from opposite sides of the room. She was disconcerted to see that they were smiling too. Attractive young men, all of them, say nineteen or twenty years old, she thought to herself.

“Really, fellows,” Dolores said, laughing uncomfortably as she watched the length and ease of their stride. “I’m just waiting for my husband. You know, killing time.”

The men didn’t seem to hear, and continued advancing toward her. They were so close, she could feel the heat of their breath on her. She looked around the store and noted that she was the only customer, indeed the only woman, present.

She felt something deep inside her, a strange internal pulse. “Henry,” she said. “That’s his name. My husband.”

One of the men extended his hand and Dolores took it. Another one slid Dolores’s watch off her wrist. The third young man stepped away and began to remove his clothing, beginning with his tie.

Dolores kicked off her shoes and raised her skirt. Someone helped her with her panty hose. She closed her eyes and felt four hands upon her at once, stroking her vagina, spreading her legs and fingering her lips.

Across the room, in the glow of a thousand lighting fixtures all ablaze at once, the third man, naked now, approached…

Henry and Dolores lay side by side, spent, in the darkness of their marital bedroom. Their breath came short and thick but in unison, as if, after thirteen years of marriage, even their breathing had synchronized.

“After all these years, Doe,” Henry gasped, “it’s still” He paused, as if groping for the word.

“I know,” Dolores answered, snuggling up against him. “It’s electric.”

Delores had plenty of ways to kill time until her husband arrived.

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