Weeks after that blackout, the memory of what went down in the elevator lived rent-free in her head.
Lucas. She never learned his last name. She kept riding the elevator around that time, hoping they'd meet, but she never saw him again. And that made it worse or better.
When she's alone in her apartment, she replays the memory in a detailed and vivid manner. It turned into her daily fantasy.
She imagined the elevator filled with people during rush hour, bodies pressed tight, a blackout happening, and everyone starting to panic in the dark.
But Lucas is behind her, with no one noticing as he slips his fingers under the short dress she wore specially for that. Pushing his thick thumb inside her as her finger-f***s her to orgasm, while she has to stay silent and maintain composure a fe
