Ascensor al Séptimo Cielo

The wine was gone, but the conversation wasn't. We were sitting on the floor of her living room, the couch pillows knocked off, and I kept catching myself staring at the way she licked her lips after every sip. Ira. My best friend Sergey's wife. We were waiting for him to get back from his night shift, and I, the idiot, agreed to "hang out for an hour."

"So what are you looking at over there?" she smirked, catching my eye. Her robe slipped off her shoulder, revealing a strip of tanned skin.

"Nothing. Just..." I stammered.

"Just?" Ira leaned forward, and I caught the scent of her perfume—warm, with hints of vanilla and something sharp. "Sergey won't find out. He's my husband, and you..."

"I'm his friend," I breathed out, but my hand was already on her knee. She didn't pull away.

The elevator jerked and stopped. The light flickered, died, and the emergency light came on—dim, reddish. Ira laughed softly.

"Seriously? We're stuck?" She hit the call button, but the speaker was dead. "Well, shit."

I was standing in the corner of the cab, trying not to breathe. She turned to me, and in the half-dark, her eyes glittered.

"You know what I think?" Ira stepped closer. "This is a sign."

"What kind of sign?"

"That we shouldn't go back to talking about Sergey." She took my hand and pressed my palm against her chest. Through the thin fabric of her dress, I felt her nipple harden. "I want you. Right here."

"Ira..."

"Don't. Just kiss me."

So I kissed her. Her lips parted immediately, hot and eager, her tongue sliding into my mouth, and I forgot where we were. My hands found her waist on their own, slid lower, gripped her ass. She arched, pressing against me, and I felt my cock get heavy, pressing into her stomach.

"Easy," she whispered, unbuttoning my shirt. "The elevator might start moving."

"Let it." I hoisted her up, pressed her against the cold wall of the cab. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I found the edge of her panties. Wet. Already wet.

"Jesus," Ira bit her lip as I pulled them down. "You didn't even ask..."

"I'll ask later."

I slid into her slowly, feeling her clench around me. She moaned, her head falling back, and I saw the pulse throbbing in her neck. The cab swayed, and she dug her nails into my shoulders.

"Fuck," she breathed. "Don't stop."

I moved steadily, deep, and every thrust made her tremble. She bit her lips, trying not to scream, but with each stroke, her moans got louder. I dropped my hand between us, found her clit, and she arched like a bow.

"Yeah... just like that..." she whispered. "Just don't come before me."

I slowed down, teasing her, and she laughed through a moan.

"Bastard. You're doing this on purpose."

"And you wanted it fast?"

"No." She pulled me closer, crushing her lips against mine. "I want you to remember this forever."

I turned her around, bent her over, and she braced her hands on the handrail. From behind, I had a perfect view of her ass, and I couldn't help it—I slapped one cheek, then the other. She gasped, but not from pain.

"Más", suplicó.

I entered her again, deeper, and she moaned, pressing her cheek against the cold metal. The cab smelled like dust and her perfume, and that's the smell I'll remember her by forever. I sped up, feeling the tension build. She tightened around me, and I came with her, breathing her name into the dark air.

The elevator jerked and started moving. We froze, breathing hard, and Ira laughed.

"So what do we tell Sergey?"

"We tell him the elevator got stuck," I said, pulling up my jeans with a grin. "And maybe he'll believe it."