74 comments/ 124827 views/ 29 favorites An Elevator Ride By: chilleywilley The story is a work of fiction, and is copyrighted by Chilleywilley no one has permission to post it on other sites. It only contains adult humor, situations, and actions. If this is not satisfactory, read some of Rha Spike's superb stories on Literotica. I would like to thank Cabolover for editing this story. After a decade of being a wage slave, I developed the knowledge to make a living as a technical consultant. I developed a skill set where I can find work for myself, or rather now after four years of frantic scrambling for business, work finds me and fills my week about half the time. So I have more free time than most people. My unpaid time is a fun hobby of going to antique shops and flea markets, buying cheap and selling to dealers and on e bay dear. In the business I am called a picker. I have a lot of niche collectables I follow, and one is old weapons of all sorts. Not so much guns, but rather edged weapons like knives, swords and such, and craftsman made weapons, powder horns and other artisan made guy stuff. I don't make huge money at it, but it's fun, all cash, and therefore untraceable to both the IRS and my wife. For my own collection, I like artisan made weapons, mostly shillelaghs, saps, and brass knuckles. The former are wooden clubs, often carved or decorated as part of gang activities years ago. Saps look a little like really short billy club, but made of leather sacks filled with lead shot flexibly attached to a handle. In use they're about 12 inches long, but folded they fit comfortably in your pocket. More common are' brass' knuckles made by casting, welding, blacksmithing or machining. Most knuckles were poorly made by lads in trade schools and such, but the valuable ones are works of art and rarely to be found. The wife works in a large office as an accountant. She's not so fond of the work, but likes her co-workers and the sense of belonging to a larger organization. Over the six or seven years she's worked for the firm. I've gotten to know quite a lot of them. As with all women, she has some good friends, Janice and Iona and suppertime conversation usually revolves around them and to a wider circle of acquaintances, often settling on management. Usually idiotic edicts coming down from on high. The First Signs It was not remarkable when a new manager showed up, and Marcus Wolf entered our dinner conversation. He was two or three levels above the wife. It's a little hard to tell exactly where he sits in the organization because matrix management blurs the lines of who works for who. In my wife's mind he was a great improvement over the 'Idiot' he replaced. She expected the new guy would correct all the mistakes the last one made, make no mistakes of his own, and generally run the company as my wife imagined it should run. A few weeks later, hearing yet another tale of divine wisdom from the lips of Markus, I opined that new management often plants wet kisses in everybody's ear to develop goodwill while they gather information and knowledge of the people and business. Then, when a strategy's formed, lower the boom, fire some and it becomes my way or the highway with the rest. To my shock, Karen erupted! Went from idyll conversation to shouting in five seconds! How dare I say such things about someone I never even met! Marcus would never do that! Never! I knew nothing and was undermining her confidence! To emphasize her outrage, she ground her napkin in her dinner plate, and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! (radio code for 'what the fuck'.) I hit a nerve! Oh well, in her retreat to the bedroom she wouldn't suffer too much since she had just moped her dinner plate clean with a piece of Irish Soda Bread. So Wifey likes the Wolf a lot! She calmed down in a day or so, but in the weeks to come, Wolf got no mention whatsoever at dinnertime. Midnight Panic A few days later, we got a frightening call at midnight. Julia, the wife's best friend was crying hysterically, begging us to come over immediately, her husband Austin had been assaulted on her door stop ( step?) and she was in danger, my wife relayed to me. "Tell her to call the police!" "Austin won't let her!" "He's clearly an asshole! Tell her to do it anyway. They can get there quicker than we can!" We were dressing in the car, as I flew the seven miles to their house. Julia and Karen stayed on the phone talking whole while, lest the villain return. As we pulled into their driveway, Karen jumped out the door before the car stopped, and dam took the car door off as the car was stopping faster than she could. Austin works second shift, got home at 11:30 as always, walked up to his back door, when somebody jumped him and worked him over with a club or a bat. He was in agony, but insisted no police, no hospital. Listening to him, he was hit in the balls and his ribs, with some broken bones on both sides, although we wouldn't know for sure until he was x rayed and examined. When we gave him some water, I saw the groove on his finger where his wedding ring had been. He screamed in pain when we tried to move him so he was hurt bad. I told him and the girls that for sure he had broken ribs so avoiding the hospital was not an option. Broken ribs besides being painful can puncture a lung. The women went off to call an ambulance, and I leaned down and whispered. "Did you take your wedding ring off, or did your assailant?" "He robbed me!" "Right! And left a good watch on the same hand. Bet your wallet is in your pocket. Look, the guy that did this may do worse to his wife, I might have time to warn her before he gets her too. Who is she?" "Chris I didn't see who it was!" "Right, but again, he might very well kill the woman you've been fucking. Either you tell me in confidence or I'll tell your wife. Lets not waste time." "Chris I don't know who did this!" Oh well, everybody has the right to remain silent. I said nothing more while we waited for the ambulance, he told us all an improbably simple tale. Walking up to the door, he thought he got hit with a Taser and fell soundlessly to the ground paralyzed. His balls were bludgeoned, and then his ribs. He claimed he had no idea who would want to do that. Right! The women went with him to the hospital, I stayed home 'to protect' his 14 year old boy Austin, and their 13 year old they named Houston. Oh well! At least they weren't from New Jersey naming the kids Bayonne and Hoboken! The boys went back to bed, assured that Dad would be OK. The women coming back at 3 AM woke me up in the chair I was sleeping in. Austin was staying overnight for observation and would be OK, but in serious pain, and they still had no idea who did it. "I can narrow it down to three people." A chorus of how do you know? Who? What did Austin tell you? "Austin told us all his story and he's sticking to in, but look at the facts: First: It happened at 11:30PM in his own yard. Zero crime around here, so it wasn't random. His assailant knew him, knew his schedule, planned the job, so they must have had a motive as well. No question Austin was the target. Second: The hit to the balls was attaching him sexually. Suggests someone didn't like his genitals, or what he was doing with them. Third: They took his wedding ring but left his watch and wallet, so it wasn't money they were after, back to their notion that he didn't deserve to he married. Says to me he got punished for adultery." "Oh Chris! I really can't..." "There's no proof, but such things happen, Julie. Moving right along, the possible suspects are: Your sons either Austin or Houston! One of them could have found evidence of what his dad had been doing. They might think they were protecting mom's honor. The taser could be purloined from a friend's house. Or could be you, Julia. Same motive. You punished him anonymously so you wouldn't have to confront his infidelity, divorce and such..." "Chris, those are ridiculous. He's not screwing around on me! I didn't beat him up and certainly not the boys. He..." "Probably true, but I'm only pointing out both you and the boys had motive, means and opportunity to do it. Most likely it's the husband of the woman he's been screwing. What was really afraid of is if the husband did this to him, the guy's wife may be in real danger. That's what I told Austin, but he played dumb." Julia was near to tears. "I can't believe it! He wouldn't!" "Of course I don't know that he was unfaithful to you, but it's the most likely possibility. He denied it to me, but if it's true, somewhere a woman may be battered and even killed. If he had told me who, I might have been able to warn her, but it's too late now." On the way home, Karen asked: "Would most men go after both the errant wife and her lover?" "Don't know about most men, but I tell you truly; you fuck around on me, no question, I'm going after the guy. Like whoever got Austin, I wouldn't kill them, but for damn sure they would feel the damage I'd inflict to the end of their days. Some men would attack their wife, but I personally wouldn't hit you, or any woman for that matter, but I'd throw your ass out the door, and make the divorce as miserable for you as I could. Why, were you thinking of getting a little strange?" "Hmmh? No, of course not. I was thinking of Julie and Austin." Our lives returned to normal. Austin's agony had nothing to do with us. One evening I asked: "So how's Marcus Wolf doing these days? Do you have much to do with him? Does he sit with you guys at lunch or anything?" "Since you so dislike Mark, I have chosen not to upset you by talking about him. Does that make you happy?" "No it does not, and I'm glad you brought up the subject, though. For starters it was you that got upset and had a fit, running to our room, and leaving me with the dishes. I think we can assume he means much more to you than to me. And you're also correct that I've never met him. Secondly as I recall the conversation some weeks ago now, I was not accusing Marcus of anything. I was mentioning my personal experience with new managers. My greatest concern here is your attitude. Hiding from me what goes on between you and Marcus, suggests there is a reason why you feel the need to hide your intercourse with him, of course I'm intending the benign meaning of the word." "Jesus! I'm not fucking him! How dare you accuse me of that" "Intercourse in the sense of conversation or legitimate business. I admit I used the word to be provocative." "A marriage is built on trust. I hold you to the same standards as I hold myself. You know my passwords, you see my telephone records. I have no secrets, I'm where I said I would be, doing what I said I would be doing with whoever I said I was with, and always available by phone because I am not hiding anything. I expect the same from you." "See Chris. There you go again. Now you're accusing me of cheating. Keep this up and it might just happen, let me tell you! You are not going to treat me this way." "Karen. Get off of your high horse and have an honest discussion here. I have neither accused you nor suggested that you are cheating. The point I am trying to make is that we have to tell each other the truth. Otherwise little lies build up into big lies, and someday we find that lies are the stuff our marriage is built of. And by truth, I mean the whole truth. If you ask me who I went out to dinner up at the Bridgeville job, and I tell you Joey was with me, and don't mention the two women we met at the bar, then I have lied to you by omission." "I deliberately mislead you. If you later find out I lied about the supper, you might reasonably assume I lied to you to avoid more questions as to who these women were, and if I fucked one or, bless my sole, two of them. Do you agree?" "I see no reason why I have to ask permission or even tell you who I see and what we talk about. You're being controlling and unreasonable here. It's only business. They're people I have to go out to lunch with. Live with it. Keep this up and our marriage is in trouble." "No! No! No! You don't have to ask permission. You just need to mention it later. Jeeze if we didn't talk about people we interacted with at work, what the hell would we talk about?" "Our marriage is in trouble right now. Married people do not put themselves in positions where there is doubt as to their fidelity. I need to hear it from you first. There is no reason to not mention before or after the fact, who you lunch with, and in general what you talked about. Particularly when it's one on one with a man, and especially...well look." "Let's call a spade a spade. You normally go out with peers. Your cube mates. Bosses on high go out to lunch with their superiors and their immediate reports. Lots of business to talk about. In my admittedly limited experience, it is remarkable when a boss reached down several levels and takes a person out to lunch with any frequency. There is not so much business to talk about. Different if he takes a group of you out. A one time thing? Sure. But if it becomes a frequent thing, not so good. You both should think of your reputation." "Son of a bitch! This is something out of a Victorian novel. think of my reputation!' Give me a goddamn break. Business is not about sex, although it's apparently hard for you to believe that. Here's what I'll do. I'll go to lunch with whoever I please. Thank you very much. However, I will tell you honestly when and with whom I go. I may even tell you what we talked about. Will that make you happy?" "It was all I asked for in the first place. Tell me the truth and do what you do in the open. If I find you lying to me, there'll be hell to pay, as you can imagine." As it happened, a couple of nights later the wife left her office laptop on with the mail account open. I wondered if reading her mail might be like reading someone's diary...I rationalized that e mail is meant to be read by someone (although not me), so I read to my heart's content. It seems she and Marcus were taking long lunching about once a week. Nothing to say it was improper, but...Thursday was usually the day! I would be ready. The rubber hits the road Their lunch spot was the Broad Moor Hotel (nicknamed the Brood Mare Hotel before it was rehabbed.) Like the proverbial lurking husband, I was in the lobby wearing a fake beard, a black suit my dad gave me, muted tie, and had, now don't laugh, added some tapered strips of black plastic to my eye glass frames to make them look different. I also wore a fedora I bought at a junk store. I figured my wife wouldn't spot me unless she looked closely, and then why would she. Oh, and I had a sap in my pocket. Figured I might as well try it out if my fears were realized. I was reading a newspaper when they came in, holding hands. I had scoped out the bar and restaurant. The bar was very open and uninviting for secrets, so the restaurant was a better bet for seduction. Neither of them went to the hotel counter, so If anything was indeed on for the afternoon he was already registered. I had a sandwich in the bar as otherwise I look odd hanging around. I checked on them once during the meal. No messy kisses, just hand holding above the table. Karen was obviously fascinated by Bozo. Her face had a slight flush, and all smiles and laughter. I finished my lunch and went back to the lobby and read my paper. I was so engrossed in an article that if Karen hadn't laughed as she waited for the elevator, I would have missed them. As it was they were in standing with arms around each other in front of the elevator as the doors were opening. I went across the lobby as quickly as I could planning to beat the shit out of him the moment the elevator doors closed. They paused to let some woman off the elevator, and I swept inside beside and slightly behind them. He had his arm around her as he ushered my wife into the elevator. I was right behind her, just inches away. Of course he saw me but he had no idea who I was, we didn't make eye contact, so I doubt if he would have recognize me out of costume. I was prepared for a god awful fight right there, with loud howling and screams. What happened...well you could barely have choreographed it for a movie. Fortunately my wife was all charged up, thinking of her soon to be filled pussy, so she didn't even notice me getting into the elevator. He pivoted her around him so they both faced the door, and I easily stepped to the back wall behind them, keeping directly behind her. He hit 5, on the elevator panel, and glanced at me, I held up ten fingers...he hit 10 on the key pad. Karen was gushing about how exciting this was. He was trying to hush her. I got out my sap. He was a lot shorter than me, I think Karen was taller than him. Didn't seem fair what I was going to do. It wasn't even going to be a fair fight, I wasn't trying to prove I was the better man, I just wanted to pound the shit out of him. His hand reached down and grabbed the cheek of her ass. I stifled the impulse to nail him then and there. Now I realized that the elevator was very small, I was thinking maybe the hallway be better for the attack...more room to maneuver, ya know? Soon as the door started to open, I reached across an' hit the door close button. They started out the door, her racing ahead, talking about pissing. I saw my chance and swung the sap hitting him hard in the back of his head, made no great noise and dropped him like a stone. Couldn't have done better if I had practiced. I half caught him as he collapsed and dragged him two steps back into the elevator just as the door closed while my dip shit wife continued to babble about 'last one in the room' and such nonsense. Bozo was out cold lying on his back his pants tended out a bit by his still stiff cock. A grim joy was upon me! Two hard kicks to crush his balls, a third kick to his pecker as we passed the sixth floor. I pressed the button for floors 7, 8 9 as well as, 11,12,14 and 15. Some are superstitious about 13, so most hotels don't have a 13th floor. I used the sap to hit his face a few times, taking out teeth, and mashing his nose, and used his shirt to wipe the blood off it before I, stuck it in my pocket. I straightened my tie, picked up my briefcase and stood patiently for the door to open at the next floor. I was surprised that I felt no remorse as what I had done. I'm a civilized man, never struck anyone with intent to harm, and I suppose because I felt so justified... I felt no revulsion. The couple of times the elevator doors opened at the upper floors I panicked a bit for fear that someone would see what was happening and sound the alarm. Now the door opened on the eighth floor, I was done with him, so I stepped out and let him continue his assent. I hit the down button in a hurry to get the hell out of there. I would have done what I did even if my arrest was certain, but I had no intention of becoming a martyr. I was beset by tremors, shivering with adrenalin every 15-20 seconds and the hardest thing was to wait outwardly calm for the fucking elevator The other elevator stopped for me as the floor indicator showed Wolf was at the 12th floor and rising. I stepped in and glided nonstop to the lobby. It was at this point that I realized I just might get away with this. Looking at the floor indicator as I walked out, Wolf was coming down, passing the 11th floor. I didn't look back again as I walked through the bar and out the side door of the hotel. I ducked into McDonald's around the corner, went into the John. Superman, I was, shucking hat glasses and suit, putting on a t shirt and jeans, walking out of the John a new man. A quick walk three blocks to my car and I drove home. I pried my beard off in the car and threw it away; after all I committed a crime. An Elevator Ride I was sorely tempted to cut and run, pack a couple of suitcases and a big trash bag with my winter clothing, put them in my car and leave. Oddly I hadn't really planned for the aftermath, other than her pleading for me to stay. Driving along I thought about it and realized that I had really done nothing wrong, beating the shit out of Wolf, was only simple justice. Why should I be the one to further disrupt my life to move out, find a new place to live? Besides her mom lived across town, so it would be no great inconvenience for her to go there, so to help her, when I got home I packed her shit into two suitcases with three trash bags for the bulky stuff, put them in the hall, and ordered pizza delivered. I canceled credit cards, using what little savings we had to pay them off. I opened a very good bottle of wine Karen had been saving for two years, waiting for a special occasion, which this certainly was, had three glasses of it and felt much better. In fact I was looking forward to the coming set to. Karen's story Jonathan was in many ways an excellent dalliance for her. He lived in Pittsburg, so he wasn't around much and wouldn't become a bother. Plus he was a marketing consultant for her company, so they could talk and e mail without danger of her husband intercepting their communications. They were in phone contact daily anyway, and every couple of weeks or so he came to their office for a day or two. He was slightly shorter than her, but very solidly built, with a sparkling laugh. He has that fresh scrubbed look, groomed impeccably...bit of a head turner he was. They had been flirting harmlessly for weeks and were in her cubical analyzing a proposal her department made for business that was awarded to others.. He was leaning over her shoulder as she was paging through the proposal on her computer, realizing with embarrassment of just how bad, in the light of her new training, the thing was.. She was wearing a blouse that was a bit low cut for office wear, so when she glanced up, saw he was staring at her tits, and seeing more than she intended to display. "You nasty man, stop that." She kept her voice down. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, making her shiver, as he whispered, "Undo one more button for me." She paused, clutching her blouse to her breast bone. This was past flirting. No not flirting at all! She knew what would happen if she did this. "Please!" He added. She released her clutched blouse, made her decision, and with awkward finger tips, undid one button. Green light meant go! He leaned over her, pointed to one corner of the computer screen and said: "Show me what's down there" As she moved the mouse down there, he placed his other hand on her collar bone, and slid it down between her breasts. His hand electrified her, in part because people were all around, although he was blocking the entrance to the cubical and they couldn't see where that hand was, but she certainly knew it was where his hand ought not to be. "Let's see where we're going with this slide." As he drew his fingers up her breast bone and across the tops of her breasts, causing her to break out in a blush. "This up here," gesturing to the top of the slide with one hand while the other roamed over her exposed chest... "The presentation of th display is everything! The purpose of this part of the display isis to get the viewer's interest, what is certainly does well... and then it has to naturally draw attention downward to the bullet points." His had slid his hand over her bra and nipped a nipple as he said bullet points. "Bullet points are really important. Now if there are too many bullet points, it's ineffective. Do you know how many there should be?" His hand slid to her other breast and tweaked that nipple as well. Karen's tongue was frozen. She was speechless! An image of statue of an Indian deity with dozens of breasts came to mind. His hand continued marauding, as it shed her modesty. She was letting, no encouraging him to molest her more or less in public. His fingers slid under her bra, but it was a little smaller than was comfortable so there wasn't much room, and the pressure on her tit was exquisite. He slowly rotated his hand, catching her stiff nipple between two of his fingers. "Well? How many do you have here?" "Ah...two points?" Right! Just two points here, and you could possibly have a third one. Now where should the third point be? You would expect it to be the major point." He extracted his hand from her tits and slid it down to her crotch. "Down below? Right?" "Right you are Karen!" His fingers were massaging her mons as she parted her thighs and gave access to the flesh around her clit, and she was completely flustered. And whispered to him: "Jonathan...oh god what are you doing to me?" "The attraction down below is the feature attraction, the most important one on the slide. Do you see that? How do you know that?" He took his hand off of her snatch, reached for her wrist, and placed her hand his pants over his cock and innocently asked: "By any chance do you think you find hard copy of this in the file room?" Her voice shook a little: "There's probably one, It'll take a while to find it, but you can help me look." She wobbled a bit with flushed face on the way to the file room. They locked the door. "Hope you're ready Karen, because we don't have much time." "Jesus I'm ready!" She clutched him with a open mouth kiss. He returned it, but it was not what he wanted just at that moment. He turned her around, bent her over a chair, reached under her skirt and pulled her granny panties to the floor. It was speed fucking. She flipped up her skirt and unhooked her bra while he dropped his pants and eased his cock into her cunt. He needn't have to worried about her being ready, she was wet and he was slick. He fucked her hard, it wasn't love making, and was none too gentle with her dangling tits. She had no complaints and came quickly, stifling her cries. "Stop! I'm too sensitive!" He was still hard, pulled out, stood her up and he sat on the chair and told her to straddle him. She'd never done it that way before, on a chair and all, but with him sucking on her nipples, and playing with her asshole, when he said he was cumming, she clamped down on him and had her second orgasm. She stood up, shivered with two little orgasm echoes, his semen dripping from her cunt when she felt his hands on her shoulders, firmly pushing down. She knew what he wanted, and with barely concealed distaste she knelt in front of him staring at his sodden pubic hair and dripping cock. She rather liked a bit of cock sucking, but preferred it at the beginning of sex, and never at the end of things when it was...messy, but she, as a figure of speech, kept her mouth shut, and let his sticky, smelly, slithering snake into her mouth. His cum was stronger tasting than her husband's, with vagina overtones. Not so bad, really. She shivered as yet another mini orgasmic aftershock tickled her loins, causing her to press her thighs together. Her thighs were cold and clammy from her draining pussy. Comparing the taste of his cock to the taste of coffee, his would be bold vs her husband's mild. Well he wasn't getting hard, thank god as time was running here, so she stood up and tried to make herself presentable. She mopped herself as best she could with her panties, and finished by wrapping them in waste paper and hiding them in the trash. They grabbed a proposal at random and went back into the main office, Karen detouring to the john for a better clean up. Still, exciting though it was, fucking in the office was fucking dangerously. On his next trip, she left work an hour early, and they fucked in his hotel room, her arriving home an hour late, not enough to elicit comment from her husband. Her only complaint with Jonathan was he was very controlling; always wanting her to lift this leg, move that way and do this way. He never developed a flow that carried and sustained the pleasure. She would have to mention that next time and be more proactive. Karen thought sex with Jonathan was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in as long as she could remember, even better than her trip to Disney World when she was ten. She had been anticipating this coming trip like a child did summer vacation. Two weeks later, she was disappointed, thinking she wouldn't get a chance to be alone with Jonathan this week, because they were taking her mother out for her birthday that night, and Marcus scheduled a lunch meeting with her and another person at the Broad Moor Hotel the next day. Oh joy when at the last minute Marcus had to meet with clients in Baltimore and had postponed the lunch. Jonathan was going back home that evening and checked out of his hotel, so she had the bright idea of going halves and renting a hotel room that afternoon. So she found herself happily sitting in the dining room of the Broad Moor hotel, gazing with besotted eyes at Jonathan. She was flushed with excitement, teased with excitement, squeezing her thighs together and wiggling around in her seat. With embarrassment she remembered her mom wisecracking such behavior was called 'twitchy twat'. Everything Jonathan was saying seemed erotically charged to her, although if someone else were to overhear it, it would be rather vacuous banter as neither of them was quick witted. Her hands were sweaty, and she kept sipping ice water so the cold glass would cool them and he wouldn't think them clammy. Not that he would have cared...he wasn't much focused on her hands. Frankly, lunch couldn't be over soon enough for either of them.. After being so good all her life, always staying on the yellow brick road, and never going into the dark woods, she felt so bad doing this! And it felt so good! It was funny that like little red riding hood's mother, her husband was afraid of a wolf too. She giggled out loud because she had never thought of it before, but it was too funny! Jonathan's last name was Lamb! "What's so funny Karen? Surly it wasn't the Flyer's game last night." Which was what he had been blathering about. The waiter gave them the check Jonathan signed it. "Oh, my husband thinks Marcus Wolf is trying to or already is sleeping with me, and of course he isn't. Never even hinted he was interested! So my husband's afraid of the Wolf, when it's a Lamb that's after his hen!" They both started laughing that morphed into loud belly laugh hysterics with tears running down, drawing unwanted attention to themselves. All that ice water had filled Karen's bladder and she laughed to the point just short of peeing herself as they left the restaurant. They were walking into the elevator, when Karen said "Gimme the key, I hafta pee!" They laughed again at the alliteration, and he gave her the key. She felt she looked sexy. She didn't have any really short skirts, so she had rolled the waistband of one of her shorter ones to show more leg. She hadn't done that since high school. They snuggled in the elevator, not really noticing they had company in there, but it didn't really matter, they weren't being lewd, or anything. When the door opened on to the fifth floor, Karen rushed out, driven by lust and a full bladder, both powerful motivators. She didn't notice that when the elevator doors shut, no one was with her in the hall, or moments later in the room. Sitting on the toilet peeing like a mare, she nattered away, oblivious to the lack of listeners. She patted herself dry with ¬¬a toilet choking wad of paper, and let her underpants slide off her feet onto the floor. No point putting them on only to take them off again! Wasn't that the truth...she giggled out loud. Now aware of the silence, she came into the room unbuttoning her blouse and called: "Lambkins! Where are you?" Clearly not in the room, she clutched her blouse closed, opened the door and carefully peered around it, looking into the hall. Not there either. She closed the door wondering what had happened to him, and concluded he must have forgot what room they were in. It didn't make a lot of sense to think this, but then lust drives out sense every time. Resolute for the moment, she sat on the bed and waited. Anxious to do something, she stood up, buttoned her blouse and went into the hall planning to go down to the lobby, figuring that as she had the key, he would have had to ask the desk what room he was in. The End is Near She heard an elevator going down just before she hit the down button, so she just missed that one. She jabbed the button twice as if that would speed things up. It seemed to take forever, but when the other elevator finly arrived, the door jerked open and she screamed as Jonathan was sprawled on the floor loosely lying in a fetal position, a pool of blood forming from his broken nose and shattered mouth. She was horrified, panicked, hyperventilating. The door started to close on it's macabre rider, which ended her paralysis; she jumped into the elevator to see what she could do, causing the doors to bang back open each time they hit her ass. She felt some relief when Jonathan moaned and moved a little. He was alive at least for now! She jabbed the door close button and the lobby button compulsively. Maddeningly the damn elevator seemed so slow as it sunk to the lobby floor. When the doors opened she screamed and hollered for help and without waiting for help to arrive, bent over, grabbed him under his arms and gave a mighty tug, lifting what she could and dragging the rest of him half out of the elevator. He screamed in agony as his broken ribs shifted, and she began shrieking in pain when her back went out and her back muscles spasmed. She cried out in agony dropping Jonathan, his head making a thunk as it hit the terrazzo floor, she steadied herself, clutching the arm of a chair, unable to straighten up at all. The elevator door was closing on Jonathan's waist but he was unconscious. Their screams, and yelling had gotten the attention they disserved as two maids from the laundry, and the desk clerk came running. The door jammed bell began ringing in the elevator adding to the commotion. Seeing the queer hunch back woman shrieking over her bloody victim, they kept a safe distance and called the manager, while the elevator doors marked time opening, closing, banging on Jonathan, bell ringing to call yet more attention if that was possible. Karen was hunched over, her upper body parallel to the floor, her head cranked sideways looking up at everybody as she hollered incoherently about lambs and doctors and wolf and do something! The manager, who knew a nutter when he saw one, took one look and called the police and an ambulance in that order. He sent the desk man to get the elevator key, and the maids to keep the curiosity seekers the commotion had attracted at a distance. It had a calming effect when they locked the elevator which stopped the door rattling and bell ringing. Karen was mortally embarrassed to be caught in a hotel with her lover, and realized it was likely that her reason for being there would come out, and once out, might somehow get back to Chris. If she had been able to walk, she would have done so and left Jonathan to his fate. Such a compromising situation became more so when the ambulance came and they found no knife or gunshot wounds, which raised the question of, what happened to him. She wanted to know too, of course, but a police investigation might turn up things best left buried. Jonathan's injuries while painful, probably weren't life threatening, but certainly needed professional attention at the hospital. She wasn't kin, as far as they could determine, so her request to ride in the ambulance was denied. As she could go nowhere, the police questioned her. Had he been shot, or something, the police would have had things to look for that would have had nothing to do with her, but as that was not the case, this was the worst case, the scene peaked their curiosity, and they wanted to get to the bottom of it because their joy was often boring ane this was interesting. She had no choice but to tell the police what little she knew about the events that had swirled around her, and of course she had to fess up to why she and Jonathan were there in the first place. The officer was very professional and quite neutral towards her, but she could see, he had dropped noticeably in his respect for her. "Mrs. Ryan, do you have any idea who might have assaulted Mr. Lamb? Did you see anyone you recognized in the hotel?" "Well, no. I think I've seen the desk clerk before, but no. No one I know." "And there is no one you suspect might have had a motive to assault Mr. Lamb?" "Of course not! He only comes to Philly a couple of times a month, he doesn't even know hardly anyone." "Are you and your husband on good terms?" "What are you implying?" "Just asking a question." "Yes, of course we are." "Where do you think he is this afternoon?" "I don't know. He works from home, and comes and goes. He certainly had no idea that...I'm sorry, I said that wrong. This was a business lunch, and not something that would come to his attention." "Right you are then! Well, we'll interview the staff and check surveillance cameras, but if Mr. Lamb wishes us to pursue this further, he should file a complaint as soon as he is able." Jonathan's car was down the street, but she didn't have the key, and couldn't drive it in her condition. The cop's ex wife had cheated on him, so he wasn't going to offer to drive her either. It was the hotel manager who was eager to get rid of her, so he offered her the choice of a taxi or another ambulance, she took the taxi option. It arrived in moments, the taxi driver held one arm, and the manager the other as she hobbled painfully to the curb, still bent over parallel to the ground. Faced with the open door to the taxi, she realized that with her back locked, she couldn't sit on the seat! She had no choice but to very slowly crawl in and ride on all fours to the hospital. She needed the men to lift first one leg then the other so she could ease herself onto the seat, on her hands and knees. The two men behind her were guffawing at some god damn thing instead of sticking to the business at hand. When the driver finely pulled into traffic the jounces were agony, but much worse was the draft of air she felt on her ass. She carefully reached around and discovered that her dress which she had rolled to shorten earlier apparently had ridden up higher still, and with her panties on the hotel room floor, the cop, the driver, and good knows who, had a good look at her naked ass. The men helping her, lifting her legs, why they were close enough to pluck her pubic hairs! Cell phone cameras must have clicked! The realization of this was yet another humiliation, she started to cry. When they stopped at a light, she supposed she was mooning the folks on the sidewalk. It was the end. She sobbed at the unfairness that this afternoon, which has started with such joy, and was ending up so miserably! It simply wasn't right! She thought briefly about calling the office, but realized that perhaps the less said there the better. Jonathan wasn't going to report this, but that didn't change the fact that he was seriously beaten up, and she could think of no reasonable way it could have happened. In the hotel, he had been right behind her in the hall, and it was like...like he was beamed aboard some spaceship, battered and tortured, and then...beamed down into the elevator. No wonder people believe in these UFO's. It's impossible, but what the hell other explanation was there? No doubt Chris would have figured it out, but god save her if he ever found out. Alien abduction would certainly not fly with him. She began to wonder not for the first time, if Lambkins was worth the risk. She tried to fix her dress, but needed both hands to support herself against the jouncing of the cab. Oh well, at this point, so what if more people saw her twat. They got her out of the cab the same way she went in, slid her onto her side on the gurney and the nurse, a man, wouldn't you know it, covered her with a sheet. She asked about the taxi fare, but, her lucky day, the hotel paid it to get rid of her. An Elevator Ride When they undressed her for examination, the nurse didn't comment on the rolled up waistband or the lack of underwear. Considering the bizarre things they saw stuck in peoples lower orifices late in the evenings, Karen's dress was unremarkable. The hospital gave her a bunch of muscle relaxants attached some electrical things to zing her back for a while and some drugs for the pain. She still couldn't straighten her back all the way, but was somewhat better, she could sit OK, even walk hunched over a walker, and the pain was bearable. They wouldn't let her see Jonathan in the emergency room. At 5:30, a nurse came out and asked if she was driving him home, and if so where was the car. She told her Mr. Lamb would need a cab. Another nurse wheeled Jonathan to the door. He was a sight, his face all puffed up and bandaged. He couldn't talk too well, but it didn't really matter because they couldn't say much in front of the nurse. He went back to the Broad Moor as they had paid for the room and he was in no condition to fly back to Pittsburg. She told him she had to get home and to call her at work when it was convenient. She took a taxi directly home and arrived about 7 PM. Late, but not too late. Chris was startled when she hobbled in, and announced that she was having an awful day. Her back was killing her. Chris could see she was in pain, and bit his tongue. It wasn't fair to kick someone while they were down, so he was willing to wait. She asked what was for supper, he pointed to a box of cold pizza on the table and got up to put two slices in the microwave. He came back a couple of minutes later when her cell phone rang. "Chris, would you get that for me?" "He noted it was Marcus Wolf and handed it to her without picking up." Had she not been full of pain meds, she would have realized that this was one call she shouldn't take, but she did. "Hello Marcus, how was Baltimore?" "Karen, who the hell is telling my wife we are screwing? He claimed to be your husband. This is no god damn joke!" Her face contorted into a look of horror. "I...I don't know, Marcus, let me call you back. It's a horrible accusation. I could talk to your wife if it would help." "Well call me back tonight! She threw me out and I'm staying at the Broad Moor. Good god damn fucking night!" "Chris, did you call Marcus's wife and tell him I was sleeping with him?" "Sure! No big secret is it? Might as well have everyone know." "Oh my god! You've got to call her back and talk to her. Oh Chris I swear on the saints I have never so much as put an arm around Marcus. Honest to god, please, you may have destroyed his marriage! Why on god's earth did you do that? Are you crazy?" She was serious, and I believed her. I assumed it was Marcus. "First things first, I have her number on my cell. I'll call her right now." I made the call on the porch so she wouldn't hear. When I identified myself, Mrs. Wolf launched into to a diatribe about men in general and her husband in particular. "Mrs. Wolf, Please... let me say something! Please! I agree we need to talk. Now this is important, I may have made a mistake! Could you describe what your husband looks like?" There was a dead silence... "What the fuck you asshole! You may have made a mistake! You may have made a mistake! You, you stinking asshole! What does the guy you think is screwing your wife look like?" "Ahhh...blond hair, trim, about 5 6" English accent, maybe Australian," "Let me tell you what my husband looks like. Fuck you're such an idiot! I'll tell you what he looks like! He's 240 pounds, six foot two and he's coming after you. You fucking wack job! Only guy in the company that I've met like that is a sometimes consultant Jonathan Lamb... you bastard! No wonder your slut wife's cheating on you! MAY YOU ROT IN HELL!" The line went dead. Uh oh! She certainly reamed me a new asshole. Well, now I got a name! I came back into the house. "How about that! It's really funny! All along, I thought you were fucking a Wolf, when it was really a Lamb!" I had a good laugh. She didn't crack a smile. No sense of humor. Don't worry about it Karen, I've packed your shit, tomorrow your moving in with your mother. You need to apply for new credit cards as I canceled our old ones. If you're lucky, Marcus may let you keep your job! Might even take Lamb's place in your love life. Now you can sleep around as much as you like!" Her mind was scrambling. Could Marcus have known about her and Lamb? No he couldn't, and neither could her husband. He was guessing. "Chris we need to talk. I didn't do anything!" "Sorry, I don't need to talk. You and me, we're history. You've been merrily fucking Lamb for a few months now, and I'm through with you." "Don't hate me! We can get past this. I love you!" "I don't hate you, but frankly I am already past this. I forgive you, if it makes you feel any better, but our marriage is over, whatever else we might say." "Do you still love me?" "Not like I use to, and from now on every day I'll be loving you less. Our marriage was struggling some before this...my fault as much as yours, so probably you putting an end to it in a grand flourish was not the big thing it might have been. " "I want to try to make it work." "Better you get on with life. I can forgive, but I won't forget, and if I stayed with you, I'd always wonder what you were doing and who was the father of my kids. Don't want to live that way." We had little more to say after that. There was no begging and pleading by her or me. We're still friends, but nothing more. About a year later, I came across her at a coffee shop. She now works for Jonathan's consulting company and for all I know still fucking him. Not my worry. After a bit of chit chat, She blurted out: "I want to thank you for not beating the shit out of Jonathan!" "What??" "Remember when Austin got beat up, you said if I ever cheated, you'd throw me out and go after the guy I was seeing. You were kind enough to not go after him, so I thought I would thank you for your restraint." "Karen, you really are dumb as a post! The night you screwed up your back? What did your little Lambkins look like when you last saw him that day?" Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged. "You!??..." The look on her face was priceless!