Kenny dumped me on Valentine's Day and I really hoped his next date, I don't know, gave him Herpes or something. He was a smooth talker, and a lousy lay - to my inexperienced mind, anyway - although he always told me I was about as much fun to fuck as a meter maid (sorry, ladies, his words, not mine....if you ever catch up with him, feel free to use that nightstick on him ...). He ended up by telling me I was boring.
"You have no imagination when it comes to sex."
I went to work on Tuesday after having cried my eyes out (what was I thinking?) til 2 am in the morning. He had taken me out for a "fancy" dinner and broke the news to me that I was old news. He'd even let it slip that my replacement - younger, thinner, bigger tits, and, oh, yeah, RICH - had moved into his apartment. He'd had my things packed up by his maid (a new acquisition - I guess Young/Thin/Rich/Bitch does blow-jobs, but she doesn't do windows?) and they were waiting with the doorman. The loser didn't even have the cahones to bring the boxes with him.
At work the insanity didn't help me at all and by 5 pm I was a sodden wreck, crying, sniffling, and blubbering all over my desk. Not that anyone noticed. Especially my boss who seemed to think that my tears were an absurd infringement on his ownership of my focus.
By 6 pm he'd hit the pavement, leaving me with a huge list of calls to make, appointments to schedule and a bunch of agreements that he insisted had to go out "tonight".
Our offices had been recently renovated and there was still a lot of work to be done, so the place looked like a war zone and no one ever stayed if they could help it. Can you say 'cough, cough' asbestos?
So, there I was, all alone on the entire floor, when the lights flickered, and went out. Having toughed it out during the blackout of 2003, I'd collected my "disaster bag" and I was heading back to my desk to grab it, assuming the worst (grid meltdown, whatever - it looked dark outside and I figured I was going to have to rescue myself). Then the fire tower door flew open and a security guard barged onto the floor and, of course, right into me.
We unscrambled and I tried not to let my hands roam all over his really fine body, before leaping to my feet. Now, don't get me wrong, I knew I might have been forced to run for my life, but hey, it's not often a girl gets to grope such a stud. I had never met the guy before, or seen him in the building. But then again, the night shift changed with great regularity and given the number of thefts we'd had recently, and his size and, uhm, level of fitness, perhaps building management was getting serious.
"We've got a serious electrical problem in the building. You need to evacuate. What are you still doing here anyway? Didn't you get the notice about the test of the emergency back-up electrical systems?"
"Well, no, obviously I didn't or I would be out having a nice cocktail and bowl of peanuts, wouldn't I?"
"Hey, don't worry, I'll get you down safely." He obviously has a caveman in his family tree, but I wasn't picky. If he could show me way down (I mean out of the building - get your mind out of the gutter!) I wouldn't mind if his knuckles dragged on the floor.
He followed me as I groped my way back to my desk, got my disaster bag and my purse and scrambled after him.
"I've got the key to override the elevator shutdown, so follow me." And he led me into the elevator which had only emergency lights running and slipped the key into the slot. The doors slid shut, the elevator started to drop - and then stopped.
"What the?" My guard wiggled the key, but nothing happened. Then he tried his radio, but got nothing but static.
"I guess the emergency back up systems don't, ah, work?" I suggested. I was trying hard not to panic, but I am so not good in elevators. Claustrophobia, don't you know?
He noticed my fidgeting and slumped back against the wall.
"You aren't one of those screamers, are you?"
Suffice it to say he distracted me. "Screamer?" My little coochie got a sudden quiver.
"You know, if you get stuck in an elevator? Some ladies freak out."
"Oh, I thought you meant, did I scream when I ..." I decided it must be the fright of the moment that made me blurt THAT out.
He actually grinned for a second.
Then the radio crackled to life.
"Rocky, come in."
My guard angel spoke into the radio. "Christ, don't call me Rocky, OK?"
"Fine, Rockford, the back-up's gone down. I got the repair guy on the way, but it may be a while."
"You mean I'm stuck here?" I shrieked.
Rocky turned to look at me. He was so not happy. "What, do you think I'll pull a Bruce Willis and climb through the roof of the car?"
"No. Sorry." I actually blushed because I pride myself on my ability to hold it together when all the shit is hitting the fan.
"Look, it won't be so bad. We'll, uh, play a trivia game or something."
He looked like he knew that it had been a pretty stupid thing to say. But then I had my own really wild and crazy idea. I bent over and pulled out the bottle of tequila I had in my bag. I was hosting an American Idol finals party at my apartment the next night and I bought it at a cheap liquor store near the office to save the few bucks. Lucky me!
I waved it at him and said in a voice I didn't know I possessed.
"Sounds like a great idea. How about strip trivia - loser strips and the winner gets a shot?"
The elevators went back on an hour or so later. We'd, uh, sort of lost track of time. We had just enough time to jump into our clothes and wipe up when the doors opened in the lobby.
"Sorry it took so long, folks," the repairman apologized.
I tried to stifle my grin and sound casual.
"Don't worry. We found a way to pass the time."
Wouldn't you know it, Rocky turned out to be a real trivia wiz.
