Daily Prompt;Elevator

A pile of nude and grey tights against a white...

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Fiction writers: You’re stuck in an elevator with an intriguing stranger. Write this scene.

Non-fiction writers: You’re stuck in an elevator with a person from your past. Write this scene.

It had been a rotten day all around. In my office there are several more women than men who work with me. We are all in tiny cubicles. Each of us have tried to make our little place in the world our own.

Some were decorated with family photos and others were pictures of pets. Some had bobble heads, while others held flowers. The day didn’t start off right.

I ran a big run in my panty hose. I was already running late so I couldn’t go back home to change. Of course I don’t keep spares in my purse. The copier machine got jammed on some very important documents that I was trying to run off for my boss. He had a meeting in less than a half an hour.

I had gone off from home without my brown bag lunch. When I realized it, I cussed under my breath because it was the day before pay-day, and I was flat broke. I should have just stayed home, called in sick, and slept the day a way.

But oh no, I am one of those who has to try to do everything right and do it with a smile. There are many single women on my floor, and most of the men were married. But there was one, just one who always caught my eye.

He had dark well-kept hair. His clothes always looked like he had worn them for the very first time. A few times we left the office at the same time and his cologne lingered in my nostrils for a few days.

He was too high-class for me, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t take a peek at him when the opportunity arose. This was one of those days, but instead of trying to get him to notice, I was lagging behind and trying to hide among the women on the elevator.

I felt like crap, my hair was frizzy from the stupid rain that wouldn’t seem to quit. One would think by looking at me today, I was just a nut case confused about which direction to take in life.

Several of us stood in the elevator and floor by floor people got off, until we finally reached the first floor. I stayed behind. I didn’t want to be noticed. I would ride this darn thing until I knew he was out of sight.

I inhaled deep as everyone was now off. The doors shut and then before it could rise, the doors reopened. In stepped the man I was trying to hide from. We looked at each other and I quickly tore my glance a way from him.

My face flushed as I knew the sight I was leaving his memory with. He spoke,”I had to get back on when I saw you did not get off. I have always wondered your name, and if I may be so bold, I would like to know if you are attached to anyone.”

I turned my head towards him and looked into the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen. My stomach started to feel hot and my knees felt like they could not hold me up any longer. I slipped down for just a quick second and my legs instantly erected me once again.

He thinking I was going to fall reached out and grabbed a hold of me. His arms holding on to my waist. I looked into his eyes. Feelings of desire buried between my womanhood rose quickly.

He didn’t let go but instead pushed the correct button on the door, forcing the doors to remain closed. He took off his jacket and laid it on the floor. He could feel the heat radiating from me as he gently sat down and pulled me to him.

“You are so beautiful my Cherie. I have desired you for many months. Would you mind?” There were no more words spoken between the two of us. As he crushed my lips with his, his fingers pulled my hair back forcing my neck to be exposed to his nibbles.

Lowering his hands down my leg I felt strength and warmth coming from the two of us. He stuck his fingers through my panty hose and tore them. He ripped them until what he desired was free for  him to roam.

I don’t know how much time passed. I was out of my mind with desires that came flooding up through my body like shooting fireworks. The seconds passed quickly and yet the world on the outside remained standing still.

With flesh meeting flesh the world exploded. Fireworks never seen by the naked eye continued to be shot off. Moans of joy and words of fantasy spilled out over the two of us. When it was over, we both carefully made ourselves presentable for the public.

As he placed his finger on the button to take us out of  own deep emotions, he looked at me and asked, “May I call you sometime?”

A Veteran and Our Clocks

I forced myself to do something or not to do something today. I did not go see Al. You may banjo clockthink why would you force yourself that?

Well, I just needed the break. I had to take some time a way from the one thing that brings me down so quick. Not Al, of course, the facility itself.

Being in a facility can tend to take a way smiles and laughter. You walk in and immediately see elderly people sitting alone in wheelchairs. You may hear a few repeating the same sentence over and over. It seems they are talking to non-speaking walls.

Many sleep in their chairs or sit in their rooms waiting to eagerly go to bed or to a meal. So many sad faces. Lifeless bodies consuming a colorless chair with two big black ugly wheels.

Then I step into Al’s doorway. His roommate is quiet as usual, most likely sleeping with head tilted over in his wheelchair. Al is behind a divided curtain either picking his head, or crying or asleep in his bed.

I just couldn’t do it. I had to step back a way. I am struggling with the continuing of writing my two books. I wrote a new chapter to one of my books today, which by the way I have finally titled. I am on chapter 21, which I published today. It is now called A View Backwards.

It took me a large amount of time to write it. It isn’t that exciting of a chapter but my mind kept drifting elsewhere.When I completed the chapter, I made myself leave my four walls. I just got in my car and drove. I wound up going to some garage sales. I  found one thing in three sales. It was a bed tray or you may call it a food tray that will go over Al’s lap while he is in bed. He can use it to prop his Bible and read or eat snacks or a meal on it if he is not feeling well.

On my fourth and last trip to the sales I found two things for me. I found a Redwood chicken. I like to collect chickens and roosters. I don’t have many, but I don’t like the modern silly looking ones. I like the oldies. Then I also found a clock. This clock took me back to six years ago. I was caring for a man and wife. I took care of them for three years, or maybe it was five in total, I can’t remember.

Anyways, he had this clock that hung above his television. I always admired it and the Mr. and I used to talk about it quite often. I am sure his is much older than mine and I believe his is a little bigger. I assume one of his children have it now as both of these dear people passed a way.

I prayed like a silly school girl that it was in my price range and that it worked. I was like a kid in a candy store, slobbering all over myself. I walked up to it ever so slowly. Afraid that it was out of my reach.

I touched it. It was a nice heavy clock compared to today’s clocks. I picked it  up and ran my hands over the inlay and the mahogany. It felt so nice, like it belonged to me. He and I became friends instantly. I couldn’t put it down.

I asked the lady how much it was, and I thought my legs immediately turned to jelly. I could feel them wobbling as I knew I could afford it. I watched her gently take it in her arms and plug it in. Oh my, it worked also. I told her I would take it. I paid and smiled all the way to my car, like two old buddies had just reunited.

While I was sitting in the car admiring my prize I thought back to the man I had taken care of and how proud he was of this same clock. He had been in the war also. Each Memorial Day I took him to the cemetery to reunite with his friends.

He and I spent hours on those special weekends talking about his war days. I thought ahead to where Al is sitting right now and wondered  how many of those empty faces are also veterans.

The stories that are locked inside their head would give me goose bumps when I think of what they did to save us. Maybe if we just took the time and visited these lonely veterans, we could relive some of what they went through.

There are shelves of books and broken chapters hidden deep inside. Willing to come out if only given the chance. My first husband served in the last few years of the Vietnam War. It seemed to me that it was more like a party for him instead of a war. The bad days were over, and life settled down. He was a policeman over in Stuttgart Germany, where I had the opportunity to live many years ago.

My second husband had no heirs so he didn’t go. My father had us children so he was never called. Al had no heirs so he never received the letter either. But thanks to the elderly I cared for so many years, I had a front row seat and got to see the movie in full living color.

God bless our Veterans. They are our heroes. So why do so many people shove them to the back corners of life and watch while they slowly sit in their wheelchairs waiting to die. Waiting for someone to say hello. Waiting, just waiting.