Thread: Going Down? (Traveler & Charlotte)

Enough time had passed between her admission that she had experienced a long day, and the gentle whine and lift of the elevator, that Jacob's mind had wandered. Well... his eyes had wandered too, but it was natural to look , wasn't it? He had a habit of imagining pretty girls with their eyes half-lidded and their lips parted, as that magical moment took over their body and sent them gasping for air. He'd seen plenty with that look on their face to almost predict the way they would sound, and as he gazed at his neighbor's reflection it was natural for him to picture her in his bed with that same expression on her face. Her ruby lips parted and moved. She asked him a question that bounced off his fantasy vision and brought him back to the moment. What was she asking him? Certainly she hadn't guessed at what was going through his mind... He'd ridden this elevator with a multitude of skirts, usually hanging onto him or standing next to him, nervously trying not to appear too excited at going to his 'place' to fuck. They were always fucks or lays who meant nothing to him, though he'd invited a few back for repeat performances if they weren't too annoying. He tended to remember their names and their sounds, but sometimes he forgot exactly what their eyes looked like. At this moment he was gazing at his neighbor's eyes, at the dark makeup around her lids and the crystal-blue clearness of her soul as she asked him, quite simply, how his day had been. At least, that's what he assumed she had asked. Profitable. He nodded slightly, his right eyebrow arching as if to consider the statement further. He was about to explain when he felt his phone vibrate. With a slight frown he reached into his coat's inner pocket as he apologized briefly to her about the interruption. It was a call from Vanessa. The girlfriend who stuck around for more than a night, and became a habit. She was probably on another of her tirades about her shitty co-workers and how she wasn't appreciated by the riff-raff. Nessa was high maintenance and usually a pain in the ass, but she paid her own bills an the things she did with her tongue... Jacob declined the call and slid the sleek new phone into his pocket as if putting to bed an corrigible child. He cleared his throat as the image of his girlfriend and her tongue was shoved down to the bottom of his brain as he dealt with the here and now. My apologies, he leaned over and pushed the button for the forth floor, causing his arm to come incredibly close to the stranger's masterfully curved bosom. My girlfriend... she has a habit of calling to tell me about her asinine co-workers. He gave the elevator beauty a smile, as if he to share a small secret. I'm certain that we all have difficult people we work with, don't we? He knew that she was going to get off on the floor below his. A few times he had gazed down that hallway and wondered which door was hers, but he knew from experience that you didn't fuck around in your own backyard. You don't sleep with co-workers or bosses. You don't sleep with your girlfriend's sister or best friend, or even with her cousin. You don't fuck anyone from your neighborhood. Especially if you have a girlfriend. Especially if your girlfriend was Vannessa Puchetti, half-Italian half-Irish and all spit and fire, nails and teeth. She probably had a few mobster second cousins on both sides of her family too - not someone a smart man would cheat on with a neighbor. Jacob tended to think of himself as a smart man, so... nothing more than the idle fantasy was allowed. He didn't even want to know her name. That would make the fantasy too close to reality, and the last thing he needed right now was to have his name smeared all over the local papers because his crazy girlfriend had murdered some little kitty he had taken a moment to pet. No... that wouldn't be smart at all.