compact. She had already checked her makeup in the
washroom, but it seemed like a smart way of ignoring her unwelcome
travel companion. With her back to the man, she examined her face
in the small mirror. The horror of her thirtieth birthday was
approaching in a few years time, but Emily consoled herself with
the knowledge that most people would guess her younger – she
certainly was blessed with more youthful features despite her
propensity to frown and scowl. She absently admired herself,
feeling inwardly smug at her prettiness. Then suddenly she felt
inwardly terrified when she heard the man’s deep gruff
voice.
“Boy, you certainly are a piece of work! A real cockteaser and
no mistake! Tell me, Blondie, do you take it up that lovely ass of
yours? I hope so, because I’d certainly like to fuck you that way!
It really is top class!”
Holy Mother! Now that came as a surprise! The prim and proper
Mrs. Johnson was naturally outraged at what she had just heard, and
more than a little afraid.
Emily looked to her right, totally gobsmacked. She was about
to turn round and unleash a torrent of indignity, but she froze,
quickly thinking better of it. It was a dangerous situation, to be
alone in a confined space with an unknown man – a man who had the
audacity to make a pass at her, and a disgusting one at that!
Electing for caution, Emily decided to pretend that she hadn’t
heard what the man had said, or if she had, then she was ignoring
it – not deigning his vulgarity with a reply. She went back to
checking herself in the small mirror of her compact, or at least
that’s what she feigned. In actual fact she was trying to see the
man’s reflection.
She succeeded! He was standing there grinning at her, smug and
assured, staring back in the mirror, fully aware of what Emily was
doing.
Now this was getting extremely scary. Worried, she flicked her
gaze to the digital display above the door, hoping they might be
near to the safety of the lobby, but much to her angst, they
weren’t even halfway down. Her eyes darted back to the mirror.
There he was again, inescapable in the confined space, grinning at
her with filthy-minded intent.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Emily could hear her heart pounding in her
chest, jiggling her breasts with the violence of the action, which
probably wasn’t too smart. She gulped, battling for control. The
situation was way out of Mrs. Johnson’s comfort zone – adrenalin
was not something that usually flooded her system – Emily was more
a Camomile Tea type of girl. But her heart was pounding now, by God
it was. Then it almost stopped when the man in the elevator
addressed her again.
“Yeah, you’ve definitely got a great ass, Blondie. Looks
really sweet in that tight fitting skirt – no panty line either, so
I take it you’re wearing a thong. Either that or nothing, you dirty
bitch! How would you like it if I pushed the skirt up and stuffed
that ass full of cock? You could watch me in the mirror as I
buggered you from behind.”
OH! MY! GOD!
Emily was stunned and horrified to be hearing such foul
disgusting language. What on earth was going on? Crassness like
this had no place in her perfect little world. This wasn’t some
building-site filled with course uncouth men where vulgar
harassment might be expected. This was an office block in a prime
London location where high paid professionals worked. How dare he
say such things to Emily Johnson? Did the man not realise whom he
was addressing?
Steeling herself, determined not to be intimidated by this
boorish brute, Emily slowly turned round with an expression of
disdain, hoping that the look she gave him would discourage him
from saying anything else. It usually worked for her – Emily had a
reputation for being able to turn men to stone with her Medusa
glare and a haughty tilt of her pretty chin.
But the man wasn’t petrified. He remained a tower of living
flesh that wasn’t in the slightest intimidated. And to make matters
worse, he
washroom, but it seemed like a smart way of ignoring her unwelcome
travel companion. With her back to the man, she examined her face
in the small mirror. The horror of her thirtieth birthday was
approaching in a few years time, but Emily consoled herself with
the knowledge that most people would guess her younger – she
certainly was blessed with more youthful features despite her
propensity to frown and scowl. She absently admired herself,
feeling inwardly smug at her prettiness. Then suddenly she felt
inwardly terrified when she heard the man’s deep gruff
voice.
“Boy, you certainly are a piece of work! A real cockteaser and
no mistake! Tell me, Blondie, do you take it up that lovely ass of
yours? I hope so, because I’d certainly like to fuck you that way!
It really is top class!”
Holy Mother! Now that came as a surprise! The prim and proper
Mrs. Johnson was naturally outraged at what she had just heard, and
more than a little afraid.
Emily looked to her right, totally gobsmacked. She was about
to turn round and unleash a torrent of indignity, but she froze,
quickly thinking better of it. It was a dangerous situation, to be
alone in a confined space with an unknown man – a man who had the
audacity to make a pass at her, and a disgusting one at that!
Electing for caution, Emily decided to pretend that she hadn’t
heard what the man had said, or if she had, then she was ignoring
it – not deigning his vulgarity with a reply. She went back to
checking herself in the small mirror of her compact, or at least
that’s what she feigned. In actual fact she was trying to see the
man’s reflection.
She succeeded! He was standing there grinning at her, smug and
assured, staring back in the mirror, fully aware of what Emily was
doing.
Now this was getting extremely scary. Worried, she flicked her
gaze to the digital display above the door, hoping they might be
near to the safety of the lobby, but much to her angst, they
weren’t even halfway down. Her eyes darted back to the mirror.
There he was again, inescapable in the confined space, grinning at
her with filthy-minded intent.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Emily could hear her heart pounding in her
chest, jiggling her breasts with the violence of the action, which
probably wasn’t too smart. She gulped, battling for control. The
situation was way out of Mrs. Johnson’s comfort zone – adrenalin
was not something that usually flooded her system – Emily was more
a Camomile Tea type of girl. But her heart was pounding now, by God
it was. Then it almost stopped when the man in the elevator
addressed her again.
“Yeah, you’ve definitely got a great ass, Blondie. Looks
really sweet in that tight fitting skirt – no panty line either, so
I take it you’re wearing a thong. Either that or nothing, you dirty
bitch! How would you like it if I pushed the skirt up and stuffed
that ass full of cock? You could watch me in the mirror as I
buggered you from behind.”
OH! MY! GOD!
Emily was stunned and horrified to be hearing such foul
disgusting language. What on earth was going on? Crassness like
this had no place in her perfect little world. This wasn’t some
building-site filled with course uncouth men where vulgar
harassment might be expected. This was an office block in a prime
London location where high paid professionals worked. How dare he
say such things to Emily Johnson? Did the man not realise whom he
was addressing?
Steeling herself, determined not to be intimidated by this
boorish brute, Emily slowly turned round with an expression of
disdain, hoping that the look she gave him would discourage him
from saying anything else. It usually worked for her – Emily had a
reputation for being able to turn men to stone with her Medusa
glare and a haughty tilt of her pretty chin.
But the man wasn’t petrified. He remained a tower of living
flesh that wasn’t in the slightest intimidated. And to make matters
worse, he
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