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Elevator
Unlike any other Sunday, today was one of those ridiculously busy days for George. Although he had already spent the last five days running around Portland getting everything he needed to get done for work and friends, it still seemed as if he was playing Beat the Clock. No matter what he did or where he went, George was always a day late and a dollar short, never quite able to relax or catch up with the rest of the world.
The stress was getting to him. As he turned the wheel of the Jeep into the office parking lot, he heaved a heavy sigh. Maybe today, while everyone else was out of the office, he could catch up on all the work that had been piling up on his desk.
George's job wasn't made any easier by the fact that Martha worked in the same building. Not that they were a couple, exactly, but George had noticed Martha in the lobby of the building. He wasn't sure if she worked on his floor or not, but he was pretty sure she'd noticed him. After all, they shared the same elevator almost every day. And he had certainly noticed her.
Sitting at his desk, George would find himself daydreaming about Martha. Her red bedroom eyes into which he was longing to look; her soft red hair that he was aching to touch. Sometimes ten minutes would go by and George would find his eyes tingling while fantasizing about Martha's fabulous breasts.
“Face it, man,” he thought to himself while getting out of the car, “There's no chance of this ever happening.” George grabbed his wallet and keys before getting out of the Jeep. Grabbing his jacket, he headed across the parking lot to the building lobby. For a Sunday, the place was pretty empty. Approaching the elevator, he pushed the button and waited for the next car up.
It only took a few seconds before the doors opened before him. There, standing alone in the elevator, was Martha, looking fantastic, as always. “Hello,” she smiled, but George's throat had suddenly gone dry. He could barely squeak out a meek, “Hi” as he stepped into the elevator. Beneath his suit, he could feel a rush of excitement, a slight shaking at the thought of Martha's touch. As the elevator doors closed, he wished he had a Beer to calm himself down.
“Going up…or…down?” teased Martha, her red eyes twinkling. She clearly knew what was going on in George's mind. The truth is that she'd seen him often, too, and fantasized about kissing him all over – especially his incredible eyes.
“Up,” George responded, gazing soulfully from his sad, overworked brown eyes. “I'm going to the seventh floor.” “I'm going to the ninth,” Martha said as she pushed the buttons. Then, with the doors completely shut, the elevator began moving up. Martha put her hand over the Stop button. She turned toward him and smiled.
“How about splitting the difference?” she asked. She pushed the Stop button in, freezing the elevator car.
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