What the hell was I thinking, getting stuck in this elevator alone with her? Lena presses her lips together until her lipstick smears as the cabin jerks to a halt. The emergency light flickers on, bathing Julia’s face in pale orange—that face that’s been grinning at her across the monitor all day, with that mix of arrogance and knowledge. And now they’re here, two floors above ground, and the lights go out like a last breath.
“Great,” Julia murmurs. Her voice doesn’t even sound annoyed. More amused, almost greedy. Lena hears her brace against the wall, the soft scrape of her manicured nails on the metal. “No cell reception. Typical.”
Lena reaches into her purse, fumbles for her smartphone. Nothing. No signal. She sighs, a flat, trembling sound. “Wait, there’s an emergency button—” Her fingers find it, press. Nothing. Just silence.
“Reassuring,” Julia says. A laugh lingers in her voice, deep and dark like the darkness around them. “So we’re trapped here. You and me.”
Lena swallows. The darkness is complete, except for a faint red strip under the ceiling that pulses like a stream of blood. She hears Julia’s breath—steady, calm. Unlike her own, which comes shallow and fast, a hunted animal in her chest. “They’ll fix it soon,” she says, more to herself.
“Sure,” Julia says. A rustle of fabric, a soft crackle of nylon on carpet. She sits down on the floor, leaning her back against the wall. “You can sit too. It’ll take a while.”
Lena hesitates. But her legs are tired from the high heels she’s worn all day, and her skirt is tight across her thighs. She lowers herself across from Julia, legs bent, back against the cool mirrored wall. The elevator smells like perfume and sweat—her sweat. Nerves, salty on her skin.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” Julia asks. Her voice comes from the blackness, close yet distant, as if whispering right into Lena’s ear.
“No,” Lena lies. “Just… tight spaces aren’t my thing.”
“I see.” A pause, in which Lena hears her own heartbeat. “We could pass the time.”
Lena perks up. “How? Talking?”
“For example.” Julia’s voice now has something velvety, something sliding that strokes over Lena’s skin. “Or… something else.”
Lena feels her heart skip a beat, then race twice as fast. “What do you mean?” Her voice is hoarse, barely a whisper.
“Well, we’re completely undisturbed here. No cameras, no colleagues. Just the two of us. And I get the feeling you’ve been looking at me all day—in a way that goes beyond pure competition.”
Lena is grateful for the darkness hiding her face. Because it’s burning, a heat rising from her belly and flushing her cheeks. Julia is right. She has been looking at her—again and again, secretly, when Julia was bent over her desk, pencil between her teeth, a frown of concentration on her brow. And each time, Lena felt something heat up, a tingle in the pit of her stomach that she smiled away. But now there’s no smile left, only this oppressive silence and Julia’s voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but her voice sounds thin, fragile as glass.
Julia laughs softly. “Oh yes you do. And now that we’re stuck here, I thought maybe you could be honest for once. Or at least curious.”
Something creaks in the elevator’s framework, a metallic groan. Lena closes her eyes, though it doesn’t change anything. Her hands lie flat on the cold floor, fingers spread. She hears Julia move, the soft scrape of jeans on carpet. Then a hand on her knee.
She doesn’t flinch. The hand is warm, firm, as if it belongs exactly here. Julia’s fingertips stroke over the fabric of her skirt, once, twice, a promise. Lena swallows dryly, her mouth parched.
“Is this okay?” Julia asks. Her voice is right next to Lena’s ear, so close she feels the warm breath on her skin. She must have leaned forward; the scent of her perfume—spicy, with a hint of vanilla—envelops Lena, makes her dizzy.
Lena nods, then says hoarsely, “Yes.”
The hand moves higher, pushes the hem of her skirt up a bit. Lena’s thigh is bare, her skin sensitive like raw meat. Julia’s fingers draw circles on it, slow, exploring, as if learning a secret language. Lena bites her lower lip until she tastes blood. She shouldn’t allow this—this is her colleague, her rival, the woman competing with her for the promotion. But the pressure on her leg feels good, right, and she wants more. She wants everything.
“You’re trembling,” Julia murmurs. Her voice is a breath that brushes over Lena’s ear.
“I’m cold.” The lie burns on her tongue.
“Should I warm you up?”
Without waiting for an answer, Julia slides closer. Her hips bump against Lena’s knees, she kneels in front of her, a shadow in the darkness. Lena’s heart hammers against her ribs, a wild drumming. She feels Julia’s breath on her face, warm and light, then a mouth on hers—soft, demanding, a claiming. Julia’s lips taste like cherry, from her lipstick, and something salty, something primal. The kiss is deep, her tongue pushes between Lena’s teeth, finds her tongue, plays with it. Lena moans, a sound rising from deep within, from a place she’s kept locked for a long time. Her hands find Julia’s shoulders, claw into the fabric of her blouse, nearly tearing it.
Julia pulls back briefly, whispers: “Good. Very good.” Her voice is rough, full of desire. Then she leans forward again, her lips traveling over Lena’s chin, down her neck. She sucks on the sensitive spot below her ear, and Lena arches, a shiver racing over her arms, making her tremble.
“Julia…,” she breathes, a plea.
“Say my name again,” Julia says against her skin, her tongue a wet promise.
“Julia.” It sounds like a prayer, like surrender.
Julia’s hands are under Lena’s blouse, stroking the bare skin of her belly, along her ribs. Her fingers are cool but leave a hot trail. Lena lifts her arms, helping her remove the garment. The cool air hits her breasts, her nipples instantly hard, stiff with desire. Julia bends down, takes one peak into her mouth, circles it with her tongue, slow, agonizingly slow. Lena throws her head back, bangs it against the mirrored wall, but she feels nothing except the sucking mouth, the heat gathering in her lower belly.
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