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Love in the Elevator



I’m not the type of girl who is easily aroused, but he had this kind of smile that could make the temperature around me soar. This beau looked young, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, but he dressed with an impeccably mature look. No, no, I’m not talking about suspenders or old man’s high-waisted pants. I mean he dressed in three-piece suits with tastefully coordinated tie and shoes.

He might have been a stockbroker, or lawyer or something. All I know is he worked a few floors above me. Don’t ask me about his name either, ‘cause he never introduced himself. I only saw him in the elevator almost every morning when I was going to work. On occasion I’d see him in the evening when I had to work late.

We never exchanged more than a nod. I never initiated a hello and he never attempted to break the ice. Mind you, when it comes to the opposite sex, I’m quite a snob. If a man’s interested in me, he should be the one who makes the first move, shouldn’t he? So, our encounters consisted of long silence in the elevator, up or down the dozens of floors in our office building. But one thing I noticed, he always stole a glance at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I caught him a few times. Then he grinned.

And nothing happened.

At first, I wasn’t bothered by his antics. Men do window-shopping and people have told me I am quite a looker. He had no ring on his finger. I figured he probably had a girlfriend, or a fiancée, or maybe a boyfriend… you just never know these days. But lately, he did more than just steal a glance at me. He actually ogled me through the elevator’s mirror. A smile always followed when I caught him.

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