Chapter 3
Pat was more than anxious to get to her job the following day, but it turned out to be a routine day. In fact, the next two weeks turned out to be routine. True, she saw Dave Vane from time-to-time. He had a habit of pinching her bottom each time he entered the elevator to let her know he was there. And every Friday he slipped her a ten-dollar bill. Many attractive women got on the elevator with Vane, but none of them ever did any talking until they were up in his office. And none of them were invited up to his penthouse apartment. It soon dawned on Pat that if Vane intended inviting a woman to his penthouse, she would have to pass the "elevator test" first.
Every night, Pat went home and masturbated, imagining herself to be Vane's lover. It wasn't that he was the handsomest or the most masculine man she had ever seen. But his was the first cock she had ever seen. She was certain other men didn't sport anything nearly as large. She didn't fancy herself in love with the man. There was something about Vane that made it impossible for a girl like Pat to love him. He was strong, virile, and masculine, but he was too dominant, more concerned with his own pleasure, but his own pleasure was primary. Yet he was the kind of man Pat would have willingly surrendered her virginity to, had he propositioned her. But he didn't. All he did was wink at her and pinch her bottom each time he got on the elevator, as if the two of them were sharing some wonderful conspiracy.
And then, one day, as she was taking him up to his penthouse, he spoke to her.
"How old are you, kid?" he asked.
"My name is Pat," she told him. "I'm not a kid."
"Yeah, well you sure look old enough. Hey, I can tell from the way you look at me, you think I was kind of rough on the blonde, Mary Rath, that day we were alone in the elevator."
"Do you really care what I think?" Pat asked.
"In a way," he nodded. "You see, you'll be on this elevator for as long as you work here, and you'll be seeing a lot more things like that. I know you have more sense than to talk about it, but I think you should know, I treat a lady like a lady, and a tramp like a tramp. They want to be treated that way. Mary is a little bit of a tramp, so I had to force her into doing what she really wanted to do, anyway. She's more than glad I did. She comes to the apartment once a week, in the late evenings now, by herself. And she does it because she likes it, and for no other reason."
"Look, I really don't care what you do or why," Pat insisted.
"You don't understand, kid," he smiled. "Tomorrow, I'll be entertaining another lady in this elevator while you're here. Compared to Mary, this one is a real bitch. When I say she's a tramp, I don't mean she sells herself to everyone. There are trampy dames who have loads of money, too. This happens to be one of them. She wants to hire me to handle her divorce case. She expects me to suck a lot of money out of her soon-to-be ex-husband. And I will, provided she does precisely what I want. You see, in her case, money isn't enough. She's a snob. Whatever sex she ever did go in for with that shnook of a husband was of the missionary kind. She doesn't think anything else is proper. So no matter what you see tomorrow, don't start thinking about what a bastard I am. I'm giving this dame a dose of some good medicine. Got me?"
"Yes sir," Pat nodded as the elevator stopped at the penthouse.
"You're a good kid," Vane said, stepping out of the elevator. "Maybe, some evening, when I'm not entertaining clients, you and I might ... well ... we'll see."
He winked at her again as the elevator door closed.
Inwardly, Pat was both thrilled and scared. Vane had all but propositioned her. And though she had often dreamed of his doing just that, she knew she would have rejected him had he actually asked her, then and there. Not that she had any objections to screwing in an elevator. It was a nice, private place, where no cameras were hidden. The sound of the elevator machinery made it impossible to use hidden microphones, and the movement of the elevator definitely enhanced erotic feelings. But her fear of the unknown, of not really knowing what it was like to have a penis injected into her, would have made Pat refuse Vane. And as she rode the elevator down, Pat mentally kicked herself for refusing a proposition she had never received. Sooner or later she would have to find out what it was all about, and Vane was as good a man as any to teach her. Still, she was afraid.
That evening, when she went home, she didn't masturbate. And because she didn't, she slept poorly, with bad dreams.