I dropped the button onto the elevator floor as she screamed at me. She evidently thinks there is something wrong with me. She very quickly put a hand up to cover the top of her blouse from gaping open. Of course, before she did, I got a nice view of her cleavage – very nice. When she spoke again she stuttered her words a bit – her nervousness evident in her speech. I liked it when women grew nervous and I could make them uncomfortable.
She slid her body along the outer edge of the elevator, avoiding me as much as possible, always keeping herself facing me, retrieving her purse. My initial thought was that she was going to dig out her cell phone in the attempt to call for help. At first, I let her as her rummaging in the purse allowed her blouse top to gape open again. I peered down her blouse, seeing the skin of her breasts and the upper edge of her bra cups. She had nice large breasts and I began to wonder how large her areolas were and what color they might be. As I stared at her cleavage and the large mounds beneath her blouse, I began to wonder why she needed to rummage through her purse for so long a time. Now granted most women’s purses tend to be huge caverns where they can carry anything from the usual cell phone, make-up, pocketbook, checkbook and the like, to special items like a crowbar for self-defense or even the occasional Congressional Budget Plan (the unabridged version). However, as she continued to dig, I grew suspicious. She wasn’t looking for her phone – she was searching for something she normally didn’t look in her purse for very often or not at all.
Shit, my alarm bells were going off. She was searching for a weapon. Did she have a knife or something in there? Oooh, that would be fun. I could wrestle the knife from her and then use it to cut her clothes off her slinky body. I gave that idea some thought, but finally decided not to risk it. I was done with her attempts at bravado; it was time to increase that nervousness. I stepped forward and grabbed the purse from her hands.
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