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It Started in an Elevator

It was hard to see my father in a hospital bed lying amid a mess of tubes and wires. Triple bypass surgery would, "only delay the inevitable," the doctor had said the night before the surgery, "unless you change your ways. "

Previous warnings had gone unheeded but this time I thought the look in Dad's eyes indicated he would finally smarten up. However, such confidence proved unwarranted. It was only five days since the surgery and he was already discounting the doctor's warning. Feeling better, he flirted with the nurses at every opportunity. When a couple arrived to visit his roommate, he couldn't keep his eyes off the young woman's body.

In his defense, I had to admit that any man would have a hard time ignoring that piece of art, especially when it was wrapped in a 'fuck me' dress more suitable for clubbing than visiting a boyfriend's father. You could see every contour of her body and imagine much more. Cast your eyes higher, though, and your passion would be dulled because this woman clearly possessed the arrogance of self-entitlement borne from a lifetime as a star attraction, at least for males.

Her boyfriend was equally handsome and just as superficial. Even while visiting his father, he constantly struck poses to emphasize his lean, youthful physique though the only potential audience once the nurses left was my mother.

It startled me that this dance floor hero regarded my mother as a sexual target. What passed through his mind to think a woman her age would be sexually attracted to him, especially while visiting her ailing husband in a hospital? You can imagine my surprise when I finally tore my own eyes away from his girlfriend's charms to find Mom's gaze directed straight at the barely contained lump on the front of the young man's tight trousers.

The couple talked constantly, sparring with one another as they 'visited' the man's father. She preened and stretched so either breasts or ass or both were thrust against the thin material of the skimpy dress while he twisted his arms to flex his muscles and breathed deeper than necessary to expand his chest, holding his breath briefly for maximum effect. Several times she bent over to examine her leg for some invisible flaw, stretched out her foot and tensed the muscles in her calf to display the limb in its best light.

Although they seemed oblivious of anyone else, each was constantly aware of their potential audience. In this regard, the woman's task was easier, or the ground more fertile, because she had three men to work with: two sick old men and me. It was disappointing to note that the poses directed in my direction were only marginally more frequent than the others. Mom, however, was the beneficiary of all of the young man's posturing, even, and perhaps especially, when his girlfriend was looking at him. What an immature pair.

The couple left with a flourish and Dad's eyes fixated on the tumble of the woman's shapely buttocks so firmly it would have take a pry bar to dislodge them. I looked at Mom and she looked at me, then rolled her eyes. I smiled.

"It's time for us to go too, Ryan."

I nodded. Mom leaned down and kissed Dad on the cheek.

"Night, dear. Try not to give yourself another heart attack."

Dad kept his eyes on target and even leaned away from Mom to maintain a good view. What an asshole! If he only knew how distraught she had been for the past few weeks. I turned and walked away in disgust.

"Say goodnight to your father, Ryan."

I waved but didn't turn around as I walked to the abandoned nurse's station to wait for Mom. The couple was returning from the direction of the elevator.

"Hey, is there anyone here?" the guy asked.

I resented the inherent superiority in the way he addressed me. I shook my head and tried not to look at his girlfriend until he passed by me. She was looking me up and down and seemed unconcerned whether or not he was aware of her appraisal.

"Know where they've gone?"


"The elevator's not working."

Mom joined us. "The elevator's not working?" Mom repeated.

"No," the man turned toward Mom and flashed a winning smile.

"Shit. I don't want to get stuck in this place. Find some stairs, Ramone."

"Bullshit," Ramone retorted. "I ain't walking down no five floors." He turned toward the nurse's station and peered into the darkness of the office behind it. "Anybody there? We need to get out of here," he yelled.

His complaint was greeted by silence. Obviously, this late at night, the staff was reduced and the few nurses on shift were dealing with restless patients or administering medicine. He called out again, anyway, as if there might be someone in there ignoring him.

"Come on, Ramone. Find someone to help us get out of here," his girlfriend whined.

"There might be a service elevator," I suggested. "Down there," I said, pointing in the opposite direction from the elevator.

"Let's give it a try," Mom said.

As we walked down the hall, the woman groaned, "Ramone," but their footsteps followed.

I don't know whose shoes clicked louder in the muted hallway, his or hers. Didn't they know sick people were trying to sleep? I was tired of these two and wished they had stayed at the nurse's station. I didn't think there would be another elevator but was pretty sure there would be stairs at the end of the hall. Mom and I could get down the five floors pretty quick.

"Here we are," Mom announced.

Sure as hell, she had found an elevator and there was a stairwell another ten feet on in case that one was also broken. Mom pushed the button and the light came on after a brief delay, followed by the creaking sound that older elevators make when they move.

"At least there's one man here who can do something," the woman said.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled as I felt Ramone's anger. I studiously avoided eye contact and waited for the elevator to open. A few seconds after it arrived, the door opened onto a room twice as wide and long as a normal elevator. You could have easily fit four hospital beds in it. There were doors and controls at each end. We stepped inside.

"Man this thing is so old I'm surprised it has buttons," Ramone said.

"Or works," Mom added.

"It smells," the woman said.

"Shut up, Nita. We'll only be in it for a minute. Come on, man," he said to me. "Push the button."

There was no button for the first floor, or the lobby, so I depressed the one labeled 'B1' and, with a lurch, the elevator started down. I stepped back and turning, pressed my back against the wall. Mom stood near me while Ramone stayed in the center with Nita leaning against him. His arm curled around her waist and the dress pulled in tighter against her body. Sparring or not, I knew these two would go to a club, drink their face off while posing for everyone around, and then go home and fuck their asses off in some crummy apartment. The house that awaited Mom and I seemed empty and sterile in comparison.

The elevator passed the fourth floor and stopped. Then the lights flickered and it started again. The number three at the top of the door lit up. Ten seconds later, number two lit up and the elevator lurched violently but didn't stop. Ramone and Nita almost lost their balance and clung to each other more tightly.

"Motherfucker," Ramone barked.

Mom cast an annoyed glance at him and moved closer to me. I glowered at him but he didn't take any notice.

'B1' lit up and all of us stepped closer to the door. We waited, but it didn't open. I pressed the button marked "Open" but nothing happened.

"Press the button to open the door, man."

"I did," I snapped. This guy was really getting on my nerves.

"Try it again, Ryan," Mom suggested quietly.

"Okay," I said.

"Yeah, try it again, Ryan," Ramone laughed, mimicking Mom's voice.

"Shut up, Ramone," Nita said.

"Close your yap."

I pressed the 'Open' button several times.

"It doesn't work."

"Let me do it."

I stepped aside and let the big man take the controls. He stabbed at the 'Open' and 'B1' buttons alternately several times as if they would work when pressed by a real man, jabbing harder each time.

"Fucking piece of shit," Ramone yelled. He smacked the wall above the buttons and then kicked it.

"Maybe 'B1' is restricted," Mom suggested, pointing at the keyhole at the bottom of the button array. "Let's go up one floor and come back down the stairs."

Ramone looked pissed off. Nita looked to the side, nodding her head as if it was about time someone thought of the obvious answer. Mom pushed the button for the second floor. Nothing happened. Mom pushed the button several more times, each time jabbing it harder like Ramone had done.

"Shit," she cried.

"We're stuck," I said.

"No kidding," Ramone replied.

Mom banged on the metal door. "Hey, let us out."

Ramone joined in, yelling louder. "Let us out, man!"

Nita joined the chorus. A minute later, they stopped and withdrew for a rest. Mom joined me and Ramone and Nita leaned against the wall on the other side. We looked at each other, then avoided looking at each other. One by one, we all took another turn banging on the door and yelling. I remembered how thick the elevator door had been and understood how little chance there was that the deadened sound of our yelling would be heard.

"Nobody can hear us."

"Oh man," Nita cried. "We can't be stuck in this cave all night."

"What time do they change shifts?" Ramone asked.

"Probably at six," Mom said.

"Six?" Ramone looked horrified. "That's almost seven hours from now."

Mom nodded and Nita slumped down to the floor, her back sliding all the way down the wall which was great because the drag forced her dress almost up onto her ass. When her butt hit the floor, Nita's knees splayed apart for a moment and I caught a glimpse of a narrow strip of dark panties stretched over a swollen mound. My attention had been riveted fast enough to determine that the pussy underneath was likely shaved because there were no stray hairs on either side.

Nita's legs snapped shut and she flashed me a crooked smile. I blushed and quickly looked at Ramone but he was leaning against the wall with his hands clutching his head in exasperation. Relieved, I looked back at Nita who was still ...
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