Undressing Elizabeth

by Jacquelyne Alberta

  Chapter Two

  The door closed behind her and clicked shut. Now, the best place to stand would be where? The copier machine sat against the far wall and there was a long table in the middle of the room with a large hole-punch on it, as well as various scraps of paper. The walls were lined with shelves that held all the usual products a busy office needs to function. She stood on the far side of the table and randomly grabbed some sheets of paper and placed them into the hole-punch, one by one. Not ideal. It would be better to be bent over with her ass pointing towards the door when he came in. That would have really given him something to look at, but that would be too daring, too forward. Too risky, too, somebody else might walk in on her.

  Was that a minute since she’d been in there? Two minutes? It was hard to tell. She leaned forward a little, letting her breasts hang down. Damn, they really did look good in that blouse. She looked at her little peek-a-boo top with its re-enforced stitching around the hole, lucky that was there or she really would be popping out. David, her husband, used to notice things like that. Shit, what a thing to think about at a time like this. Focus, focus; watch the door. Wait for him. That must be three minutes now. It had to be. What’s he doing? He has to wait. She knew that. They didn’t want suspicions aroused, but come on, get in here. She watched the door handle and grabbed another handful of paper. Slowly, she placed them in the punch and deliberately pressed down, forming three perfect little holes in each one. What was going to happen? What were they going to do in here, with everyone else just outside, in the outer office? Nothing really, she supposed, but maybe, maybe he has something in mind. Fuck, she’d like to feel his chest pressed against her. Maybe he’d push his cock against her front this time.

  Still nothing. The doorknob stayed dormant. Her face was flushed. She smiled. She could picture it. Her cheeks would be rosy and puffed out a little. It happened every time she got nervous. And, yes, this made her nervous. This was new. She’d imagined things of course, but never waited for a man, not like this, not since David, not since she’d had...

  The doorknob turned quickly and the door opened and closed immediately. It took her a moment to look up and focus on him; she’d been so intent on studying the movement of the doorknob. Still she remained slightly hunched forward. She had enough of her wits about her to remember to do that. She knew what standing in that position did to her breasts. She knew what that would do to him.

  For a moment he just stood there, looking lost almost. He didn’t have his cocky grin on his face. His muscular chest was framed against his white shirt and his tie was slightly loosened at the knot. His bold features and combed-back blond hair had no business being in an office that sold boxes. He should be on the beach or at a lake, sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, ready to dive in and swim out to save someone at a moment’s notice.

  She spoke first. “Are you lost? Looking for some paper?” As she held the sheaf of paper toward him, she involuntarily lifted one of her legs and leaned it against the other. I haven’t done this in a long time. Nervous, yes, but good nervous, definitely good nervous.

  The grin returned. What a grin it was. The grin that he used when he asked for the order, or eased into the parking lot in the morning while the attendant pointed him to an open spot close to the building. It was always everybody else’s grin, but right now it was hers. He was using it on her and she knew why. She had something, or perhaps she had some things, that he wanted.

  “Actually, no, I don’t need any paper. I was looking for a little box, just a very small box. You don’t happen to know where I might find one, do you?” His eyes never left hers as he said it. Good move, classy, keep staring at my eyes. She knew he wanted to look her over, but he just kept those lovely, sparkling blue, green eyes focused on her. He was all hers right now, not the Saskatchewan buyer’s on the phone, or the office manager’s or even his wife’s. Right now, those eyes, that chest, that bulge in his pants, they all belonged to her.

  She smiled and let his comment hang between them for a moment. She could hold her smile for a long time, but she doubted that it would beat out his grin. He just kept standing there, not lost anymore, grinning mischievously at her until she answered him, “Well there might be a little box here somewhere. I’m not sure. I haven’t been asked for that for a long time. Let me take a look.” She turned slowly towards the shelves behind her and extended up on her toes, as though straining to look at the upper ledge. Her ass held firm and tight as she remained on her toes, Yoga, two nights a week, all worth it now. She turned back towards him. He wasn’t looking at her eyes now. His gaze had been straight on her ass while she was turned and now he was looking right at her breasts, burning a hole into the peek-a-boo opening in her blouse. “Hmm, I’m not sure I have what you’re looking for. You might have to be a bit more specific, Jim.”

  The narrow table between them held them apart, him on one side, and her on the other. He looked like he wanted to toss it aside and grab her. He almost looked angry as the desire seemed to be over-powering him. His grin was still there, but his eyes were different now, not so playful. They darted around and his lip quivered as he held onto his side of the table. She was playing him and the effect was almost frightening. The weeks of harmless smiles and “good mornings” had led to secret smiles and private looks. Then, of course, the incidents, and now the emails. It all had to lead somewhere. You don’t build up that kind of pressure, that kind of tension without it erupting somewhere. He was hard. Even without staring at the bulge in his pants she knew that. He had to be. He was probably pulsing with want. It was time to accept. It was time to show him she was real. She lowered her voice, and spoke in a serious slow manner, “Why don’t you come over here and give me a hand to look. Maybe together we can find you a little box.”

  She didn’t see him move and wasn’t sure how he got there, but he was instantly on her side of the table. Grabbing her by the hips, he turned her to face him then cupped his hands on her ass and pulled her close. His face was close to hers and he still had the angry look in his eyes. The grin was gone now and his lips were almost on hers. Still he held onto her ass, pulling her into him, letting her feel him, feel his hardness. His face was close, but not touching. He was breathing her in, letting her smell him. She realized she had been holding her breath. Quickly she let it out and tried to experience all of the different feelings at once. He was holding her ass, pushing it upwards slightly and towards himself, almost grinding her into him. His hands were strong, just as she thought they’d be. She still hadn’t moved. She’d been too overcome with shock at how quickly he’d come around the table. Slowly, she relaxed her body and put her arms around his back, stroking it, surrendering, telling him that it was okay.

  He turned her back towards the table, pushing her ass up against it. Then, he put one hand on each side of her face and ran his fingers through her rich, thick red hair. She gasped at his roughness. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t the smooth gentle manner that she was accustomed to. This was different. This was animalistic. This was dirty. This was what bad girls do, not good faithful wives. When he spoke his voice was different, more commanding, masterly. Pushing her firmly into his crotch, he said, “I think I just found the little box that I’ve been looking for, Elizabeth.”

  When his lips met hers she thought she was going to faint. He held the back of her head with one hand and kept his other behind her ass. She was his, all his. His lips were rougher than she thought they’d be. There was no tender gentle opening of her lips. His mouth was on hers and his tongue lunged inside. She pushed her tongue forward and he caught it in his teeth, holding it there. When he released it, her head tried to move back a little from his grasp and that’s when he smiled. “No, honey, don’t do that. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to pull away.”

  She almost shivered at the way his confident voice controlled her. She put her lips back on his and kissed him roughly back, his hand still on the back of her head. Their tongues played together. He’d catch hers
in his teeth and hold onto it, releasing only when he was ready to. At one point he grabbed a handful of her hair and slightly bent her head to one side. Placing his mouth on her neck he kissed it then smelled it, inhaling her scent. She could almost feel her knees buckle as he ran his tongue up her neck and then took her earlobe into his mouth. How did he know? How did he know that was one of her places? In that instant, she knew this man could take her body to places that it had never been. He could take it to places she didn’t even know existed. He sucked on her earlobe carefully then released it before gently kissing her neck once more.

  He had both of his hands in front of her now and as he kept pushing himself against her the table slid across the floor, then stopped, as it hit the shelves on the other side of the room. It barely made a sound, but it was enough that both of them stopped and listened for any noise that might come from the outer office. Nothing, just the sounds of muffled computers droning away and typists typing onto their keyboards. He held his finger on her lips as he spoke to her. “Shhh, we’re fine. Now, get up there and let me take a look at those things.” With the table now sitting propped against the wall, he effortlessly lifted her up onto it. Without asking, he spread her legs apart and stood between them. He held onto her legs for a moment. It was amazing. She was allowing a man, a man who wasn’t her husband, to hold her legs open. He held them firmly, just above the knees. The grin returned as he stroked the outsides of her legs, under her skirt, almost daring her to tell him to stop.

  “Did you think it was your legs that I meant, Elizabeth? Did you think that’s what I want to take a look at?” He laughed a laugh that was barely audible and kept holding onto her, under her almost-plaid skirt. “No, honey, that wasn’t what I wanted. We’ll get to those beautiful legs later, but first there’s something else I need to see.”

  She knew of course. It was the same thing that boys then men had looked at since she was fourteen years old. She’d always been busty and men had always liked them. Two boyfriends in high school and her husband, those were the only men who’d ever touched them. That was about to change. His hands started at her waist and slid up, under her blouse, slowly feeling every centimeter of her along the way. When he reached her breasts he held one in each hand, stroking them through her bra. Expertly, he rubbed his thumbs over the front of her bra, right over her nipple area. They were hard already but when his thumbs brushed past they seemed to get even harder, almost popping right through her bra. Leaning forward, he kissed them through her blouse, pushing his face into them while squeezing them together.

  “Holy shit, Elizabeth, there’s lots there. There’s enough there to keep me busy all night.” He laughed again when he said it, this time a little louder, a little softer. The hard angry expression that he’d had when he was on the other side of the table was gone now. He was still in control, there was no doubt about that, but the violent desperation in his eyes was gone. He was three different people to her now. He was Jim, the salesman who sat in the office writing lewd emails. And he was Jim with the desperate eyes who almost threw the table aside to get at her. And now he was somebody totally different again. He was Jim who was in control of her body. Jim, who was going to tell her exactly what to do and when. “Let’s get that blouse off, Elizabeth. Slide it up from the bottom and I’ll tell you when to stop. Do it slowly, honey. I want to take a look at those nice big tits that you’ve been teasing me with.” He held onto her sides as he said it, but his eyes never left her breasts, almost willing her blouse to remove itself.

  She didn’t hesitate. Something made her follow this man’s instructions. It wasn’t just the way he said it. It was the way he looked at her, too. There was only one response. There was only one thing that she could do and that was to follow his commands. Her hands shook a little as she pulled the bottom of her blouse up, slowly revealing her pale white stomach. She pulled a little more and gradually let the material pop over the roundness of her breasts. It was hard to do it slowly. Now that she’d agreed, now that she knew she was powerless, she wanted to rip open her blouse and pull his head towards her. She couldn’t wait to feel his mouth on her, his tongue on her. His mouth started to hang slightly open as she pulled the material up past her large breasts. As she pulled her arms up and prepared to pull her blouse over her head, it happened, and it happened fast. There was a loud bang on the door and one word, one unintelligible word from the other side. In a second, perhaps even less, she was transported from somewhere that she never knew existed back to the copier room at the box company. Quickly, Jim moved to the door and put his weight against it, making sure no one could come in. Gasping in panic, she hurriedly pulled her blouse back down and slid off the table and onto the floor.

  “What did he say? Who was that?” She was whispering as she said it, speaking rapidly, still panicking.

  “Cake. He said ‘cake’. Just ‘cake’, that’s all. It’s somebody’s birthday.” Jim Gretzky was back now, friendly grin re-installed. He was focused, still in control.

  She remembered. It was one of the secretary’s birthdays. They were having cake in the lunchroom. It was standard to yell “cake” at a certain time in the afternoon when that happened. Someone would knock on all the doors just to make sure everybody was involved. No one knew they were in there. Please, please, let no one know that they were in there.

  “Elizabeth, look at me. Look at me. It’s okay. They don’t know. It’s just a cake day. It’s no big deal.” He looked at her carefully, considerately, while he straightened himself up, still standing against the door. “You go first. Go have some cake. I’ll be along later. It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

  She slid by him at the door, expecting him to push against her or grab her, but he didn’t. He just held the door closed a moment longer as she stood centimeters away from him. Leaning his face into her hair, he said, “Wait, I want to smell you. I want to remember your smell, until next time.” Then, after pushing his face into the top of her head and holding it there for a moment, he stood back, allowing her to leave, still standing behind the door. “Go, go on, Elizabeth. Go get some cake.”

  Gingerly, she stepped outside the room and saw mostly empty desks. Almost everyone was crowded into the small lunchroom at the opposite end of the building. There was a salesman speaking on the phone while eating his cake at his desk and one of the receptionists was staring at her computer, but nobody was looking at her. They’d gotten away with it. He was right, nobody knew. She stopped at her desk and sunk into her chair. What had just happened? Where the hell had he taken her? That wasn’t her in there. It couldn’t be. She’d actually told him to come around to her side of the table. Had she really done that? She had a husband, a life, what was she thinking? Every single bit of her told her that it shouldn’t happen again. And every single bit of her told her that it would happen again. It had to. She had no power over it, none at all.

  Chapter Three

  There’s an old wooden cross at the top of Burnaby Mountain. Its white paint peels away once a year, a victim of the western Canadian elements, and once a year, somehow, almost mysteriously, it’s re-painted. Burnaby is a suburb of Vancouver, British Columbia. It’s fifteen kilometers from where Elizabeth lived with her mother and father. When Elizabeth and David started dating, they’d drive up the mountain and park a couple of hundred meters from the cross. They’d sit and watch the cross as the glow from the moonlight illuminated it. Often the rain would be pelting down on the roof of David’s old car as they sat holding hands, talking about the future. He’d kiss her sometimes, with the majestic cross watching them, but that was all. He’d never touch her anywhere else. It wouldn’t have seemed right, not with the old cross and all its implications watching every move they made.

  Their courtship had taken the usual route of movies and dinners and as they got more serious, they found their mountain and their cross. In her head, she kept a list of places on his body she had touched. And, she kept another list in her head of places she hadn’t touched. The “hadn’
t list” got shorter all the time, but it was always there. There were still places that she hadn’t yet experienced. And, there were places on her body that he had gone, but only briefly. It wasn’t about her allowing him or even about him trying. It was about what felt right. They did what felt right. So the afternoon that they sat in her parent’s living room while her folks were at work and he helped her slip off her shirt and unclipped her bra, it felt right. It was the right time to do it, the right time for his mouth and his tongue to experience her breasts. He’d felt her down below, too, even slid his fingers in once or twice, but that was all. It just hadn’t felt right to go any farther, not yet.

  So when time allowed, and her parents were out, they’d watch movies while sitting on the sofa in her family living room. Watching movies was their code word for touching, exploring each other’s bodies. David would sit politely beside her, sometimes with his arm around her shoulders, until she closed the curtains of the big front window. Then, with a movie showing on the television, he’d pull her a little closer and she’d turn to kiss him. He was twenty-one and she was nineteen and in the darkness of the living room, with the only light coming from the television, they politely discovered a little about each other’s bodies and pleasures.

  The night they randomly took a drive up Burnaby Mountain and found their cross, they knew they’d found their place to talk. The road curved around the mountain and ended at the top where there was a public viewing area, but a short distance before the peak there was a utility road. It was only a few car lengths long and there was a shed at the end of it. Presumably, it was used by the maintenance people who looked after the trails on the mountain and perhaps they were even the ones who painted the cross each year. When David pulled down the road they found that if they parked to one side of the shed and looked up, they had a clear view of the cross with the sky in the background. It was perfect. They couldn’t be seen from the main road and had a private area all to themselves.