Hold the Elevator

HOLD THE ELEVATOR by Mads

"Hold the elevator," I heard, in a rushed baritone, and in a flash he was diving through the doors I had put my hand out to hold open.

"You might be sorry to get in here, uh, with me," I said, faltering as my brain was processing my vision of the stud in the elevator car with me. Tall, well put together under khakis and a well-fitting t-shirt, the guy was about my age, with medium-brown wavy hair on his head and thickly on his arms. And the bulge in those khakis had a bulge showing that had my attention to the point of being too obvious.

"I don't know, man. It looks to me like you aren't too unhappy with me here," he said, his eyes squarely on mine when I self-consciously looked up from his crotch. His smile was like a hit of pure oxygen – invigorating and had me momentarily light-headed.

"Uh, I just –"

He just smiled at me and waited for me to regain the power to construct sentences from coherent thought. God, those green eyes were brilliant with his smile.

The door started to open on the fourth floor, and my consciousness returned in a flash with the sudden awareness that I had about ten seconds or might never see him again. I thrust out my still-sweaty hand. "I'm Mads, Mads van Duessen. I live on the sixth floor." He took my hand, gripped it firmly in his own big warm hand. "I don't know who you're visiting," quickly blathered on, "But he's – or she's – lucky."

His smile went to a grin. "John Crown," his beautiful deep voice growled. "Since I've survived the elevator ride with you, Mr. van Duessen, I'm guessing that if I were to wander up to the sixth floor, then I'd be in real danger," he snarked, his grin having gone to a smirk.

The energy passing between us was almost nuclear through our clenched hands, and our eyes were locked. It wasn't until the elevator doors started to close then pulled back because he was standing in the doorway that I snapped out of the spell . . . again. "What I meant before was I'm one big sweaty mess from my run. I'm sure I've reeked-up this elevator."

To that he stepped closer to me, so close that his chest was almost against mine, and he bent his head forward more until his face was so close to my neck that I could feel his breath on me. And then he inhaled, long and deep. "Mmmmmmmmmmm."

My body was electrified, and I reached out with my other arm and wrapped it around his neck and turned my head until our lips were brushed. The elevator doors did another attempted close, and when they couldn't because he was still in the way, the elevator started buzzing loudly. We both froze, our lips touching but not kissing . . . I hoped not YET.

I stepped back and pulled John in with me, and when my back was against the elevator wall our lips were locked and our arms clutched each other tight, grinding together as our kiss intensified.

Our kiss lasted through the elevator doors finally gliding closed slowly, through the buzzing finally stopping and on until the elevator moved on up and stopped two floors above, my stop. We were both hard, panting, grinding, now groping. "Wanna take that risk and come into my apartment," I said into his lips.

I could feel his smirk return by the shape of his lips against mine, but our kiss reignited. The elevator doors slid closed behind him, but the elevator didn't move because a button hadn't been pushed.

When it finally did move, we broke the second kiss but not our grip on each other. I took one hand and firmly gripped his impressive hardon which was threatening to rip the seams out of the crotch of his khakis. I gave it a tighter squeeze. "Come with me. Now," I said, our gaze locked again.

"I, uh, I –" he stammered, and I laughed. And then he laughed. GOD! Even better than the smile. "I guess, uh, it's my turn to be at a loss for words."

"It's up to you. In about three seconds this elevator will stop on some floor, and if we don't have a floor pushed when whoever gets in, we're going to look pretty suspicious."

He looked down at my bulging running shorts, tented out obscenely, held that sight for a moment as he noticeably caught his breath, and then looked back at me with the smirk again. "Looks like it won't matter, Mads. Either way we're going to look exactly like what's gone on here."

As the elevator stopped, I quickly reached behind my head and pulled my sweat-sopping t-shirt over my head and then put it to my stomach so it was hanging in front of my hardon. As the doors opened, John's eyes flashed fear, having nothing to cover himself with. But I reached over and pushed six on the panel as I stepped directly in front of him.

We were at the lobby, and a third floor neighbor started to step into the elevator then stopped when he saw us. I made like I was rubbing my sweaty stomach so the shirt looked like it belonged there, still hanging in front of my tented running shorts. Feeling John's hardon against my ass, there was no potential for mine to calm down!

"Hi, Mr. Connor," I said. "The elevator went wacko when we were going up and came down again."

"Well, here goes nothing, Mr. V," Connor said and stepped aboard, giving ample glances to the hunk standing directly behind me.

"My friend's a little shy," I said, and I immediately felt my ass grabbed from behind. I started, but the elevator started moving up at the same time, so Mr. Connor didn't notice.

When the elevator was empty again and moving up toward my floor, John made a move to separate us, but I pushed back, grinding my ass against his cock and making him gasp in my ear. "I like this position a LOT!" I said, grinding into him.

The elevator stopped on six, and I moved away from him. He whimpered slightly when I broke contact. As I turned around I saw that his head had been back against the wall of the elevators, his teeth clenched. I hoped that was a good sign.

The elevator doors slid open, and we were face to face again. "This is it, John. Coming with me . . . or going back to four and whatever you had planned?"

The smirk was back in a flash. "Uh, good thing you don't live on the seventh floor because I'd have cum already if we had gone any further with you working me that way." We both laughed. I put out my hand, hoping.

It was my turn for the elevator to try to close on me, and it startled me a bit, but I stood my ground and motioned with my hand for him to take it. He did, and I yanked him out and into the hall.

We were inside my door and a funny thing happened. As I turned after latching it and began to pull his shirt out of his khakis and undo his belt, John put his hands on my shoulders and moved into me, pulling us together by my shoulders, moving against me, and then he wrapped his arms around me. I felt his breath – and heard he was as excited as I was – on my ear and he said softly, "I want to enjoy every single movement and every moment of this, Mads."

I went of two minds at that. First, my normal reaction – oh, God, a "passionate top" who likes to fuck slow and languidly. NOT my style – nothing wrong with anyone's preference, just not mine. I like to fuck like a wild animal. Wait, who am I kidding? I AM a wild animal and can't fuck any other way. Second, something inside my head said, "No, Mads, that's not it. Slow down and it'll all come with this HOT man."

So I did. I returned his embrace, wrapping my arms tightly around him, enjoying the feel of not only our raging cocks ground together, throbbing against each other through my running shorts and his khakis, but also the strength of his torso and legs against and around me. "I'm in," I said back into his ear.

His hands were running up my sweaty bare back and down over my sweat-soaked running shorts and feeling my ass, my thighs, as much as he could reach, grabbing my bubble buttcheeks in the occasional pass. His face was rubbing against mine, our heads together, and he was inhaling deeply, growly moans occasionally indicating his enjoyment.

I was grinding our crotches together and using my hands firmly grasping his impressive ass for leverage when I felt him take a long lick up my sweaty shoulder and then up my neck to behind my ear. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck, you taste good!" he growled, and my entire body spasmed with desire.

"I want your skin against mine," I pleaded.

"Mmmmmm," was his only reply and he kissed my neck where it meets my shoulder.

I was again wracked with a spasm that went straight from my neck to my balls and asshole like a bold of lightning. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK, John. I WANT!" was all I stuttered.

John took a step back, and I moaned plaintively. I still held me, and he moved his hands to my face and our eyes met. "I want to feel you in my arms as much as I want to FUCK you as much as I want to just gaze at your beauty," he said.

I gasped at the sweet-talk and I gasped at his mention of fucking me and the thought raced through my mind: has any top ever been like this with me?

My thoughts were interrupted as he grinned and said, "So, to that skin-on-skin stuff. You going to take the opp to go back to undressing me or what?"

I laughed, and so did he. And I wasted no time pulling his shirt the rest of the way out of his khakis, giving his torso a good feeling-up as I did. The statue of David had nothing on him if my hands were any indication. His nipples were hard as titanium to my touch through his shirt and when I had my hands under it, and he shuddered at my touching them. "Gazing at your handsome face and having you rub my nips that way, Mads – you could make me cum just like that!"

I laughed and worked both of his nipples some more until his eyes shut and his head lolled a bit. "Well, so much for my beauty holding your interest," I snarked with a pinch to each nipple. He gasped as he laughed. I leaned back in for a moment as my hands ran down the slabs of his pecs and mounds of his abs to his waist. Into his ear I whispered, "You had me at `FUCK', John."

And then I had his belt unfastened, had his khakis open and was sliding them and his boxer briefs down his legs. As he was bound up with them he started to toe off his shoes to get free of his slacks, and I ran my hands back up his chest and pulled his shirt, still buttoned, and t-shirt under it off over his head. It had taken every single bit of resolve to match him in this approach to NOT grab hold of his raging cock now jutting toward me invitingly . . . yet.

"Here, sit down there," I said, pushing him back as he awkwardly stumbled to the bench in the hall there. "I'll help you off with those pants and hang up your clothes so when you leave to go to whomever you were here to see you won't look like you'd just got up after sleeping in your clothes. And if you need to make a call, now would be a great time," I added.

He was pulling off his slacks and I was helping him. "I'm good, Mads," he said.

"Oh, I just bet you are," I said, staring intently into his eyes. "And you're going to be better than even you know when you're on me!"

"Forget the fucking clothes," he said and reached for me.

I jumped back and laughed. "Now, who was it who said we'd take our time and enjoy every minute? That includes getting dressed afterward. And as perfect as your clothes were when you got here, obviously it's important to you."

I straightened out his shirt, separated his t-shirt, hung them both and then evened his slacks and hung them all in the hall closet. I reached back and got his shoes from where he'd kicked them and knelt and put them neatly in the closet as well, and then I turned back to him to find he was standing right behind me. "Give me those, too," I said, pulling on one of his calves with one hand and pulling at his sock with the other. Again, it was all I could do NOT to slurp his beautiful rock-hard dripping cock down my throat as it bobbed at my eye level. As he raised first one foot and then the other for me to pull off his socks, I did rub my face against his throbbing cock, that second sock taking considerably longer to get off than the first so that I could enjoy the feel of his manhood against my face. He had his hands on my shoulders again, rubbing them and my neck with big warm hands, causing me to feel every nerve ending in my skin. I leaned in to inhale his balls and pubes deeply and became drunk with the manly smell of him. I finally turned and laid the socks neatly on his shoes. "Done with that yet?" he said

I got up slowly, reluctantly, never having tasted his cock or balls yet, wondering who I was, a flash of worry that maybe I should have, maybe he wanted me to. He reached for the waistband of my running shorts, and I jumped back. "No way – this sweaty mess goes to the washer," I said, grabbing up my sopping shirt from the hall table where I'd thrown it and not even thinking at the time I'd have to repolish the table after it had laid there. I reached down and grabbed his cock and pulled him after me, down the hall and to through another hall to my kitchen and then through it to my laundry room and threw the shirt into the washer. "Wanna get these off me now?" I asked, standing back with my arms up for him to get my shorts off me, toeing off my running shoes.

John stepped in, that enticing engorged cock bobbing proudly, and pulled my shorts down and off. To my surprise he brought them up to his face and buried it in the crotch, growling and inhaling, never taking his eyes off my cock, a little wide-eyed at that. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK," he groaned when I finally reached for my shorts and gently took them from him. As I flung them into the washer he ran his hands down my legs, making me shiver, and took each of my sweaty socks off and rubbed my feet with one hand while he had his face buried in my stanky socks rubbing them on my face. More exclamations and growls, and his cock was dripping a long rope of precum on the laundry room tile.

I was entranced with this FUCKING HOT man so into me, into my sweat. But I finally grabbed my socks and flung them into the washer and slammed the door. "There'll be PLENTY MORE sweat, John – both of ours to enjoy," and I pulled with me as we went through until we got to my bedroom.

I saw John take it all in, the first time he'd not been looking at me (except when his face was buried in my shorts and socks!). "You have an incredible place here, Mads. Is it the entire floor?"

I blushed, and then I reached for his cock and took a firm grip and pulled him to me. "Why, sir, is it my ass or my real estate you're after?"

"I'm AFTER . . . YOU," he said, grinning at me. "But just as I am admiring you as well, so I am admiring my surroundings. You really have an awesome apartment here."

"You want a tour," I asked seriously, as my ass screamed "A FUCKING TOUR? WTF!!!!!"

His grin got even wider, and he then grabbed my cock for the first time, making my knees buckle for a second. "The first tour is of YOU!"

With that we were on eachother again, grinding, groping, both our cocks wet in each other's hands, grabbing, grunting, growling, chewing – my god his teeth on my nipples were PERFECT for my balls to send me a signal "you'd better control this or there's going to be a mess NOW!" I pulled him up and bit his neck behind his ear, and his body shuddered as he moaned.

And then I broke away from him and took several steps and dove, face down, onto my big bed and waggled my ass at him. "What you waiting for?" I taunted.

I didn't have to wait, and he was on me in a flash, him also face first, face right into my crack, his tongue pushing into me and him totally pigging out on my sweaty crack and ass. "OH MY FUCKING GOD you're so tasty," he said at one point, the only intelligible words among a lot of noise and major tongue, teeth and face action going on in my crack.

I was writhing and wriggling and shoving my ass back onto his tongue, which felt like it was halfway up my ass. I finally got myself onto all fours, and he was right with me, still licking and tonguing, now gripping and stroking my cock and grabbing my balls tight, to my audible delight. He caught onto that fast and used my balls like reins as he was tonguing my fuckhole and basically drove me wild. I realized that my moans and pleas had gone to high-decibel level. "JUST FUCKING FUUUCCCKKKKK ME John," I finally wailed.

With that he held my cheeks far apart and spit a glob directly onto my hole. Then he was behind me on his knees, his cock pressing into his spit against my fuckportal. "FUCK ME GOD FUCK ME!" I yelled and pushed back in case he hadn't heard what half the city must have heard.

He grabbed my hips and pushed into me, stopping after I opened up and his head was in. I showed him he wasn't dealing with a novice by shoving myself back on him until his pubes ground my crack. And I reached back and grabbed his balls roughly, to an "AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGG" from him and then moved off his cock until just the head was in and then yanked his nuts so he'd slam back into me. "Yeah, stud, now you're there," I said, repeating the movement. "FUCK you're tight . . . and HOT!" John's grip on my hips tightened, and he started to pound me . . . hard at first then harder until my whole body was taking body slams faster and faster.

I wanted his load. I wanted him to fuck me forever, but I wanted his load more. So I began working my assmuscles like I do so well, and he cried out in amazement and then growled long and deep as his intensity impossibly increased and my teeth were knocking together with every thrust. "FFFFUUUUUUUCCKKKKKKKKKKK," he yelled as I increased my asswork on his cock and tightened my grip on his balls.

John's size was VERY VERY LARGE to EXTRAHUMANLY LARGE, and his cock was hard as a steel light pole, corded with several major veins which worked my fuckchute like the ultimate stimulator. His head was plum-sized and shaped and reamed me GOOOOOOOOD, also perfect for making sure it can't QUITE slip all the way out when he's long-dicking me.

My fist gripping his nuts was pounding into my own balls swinging with our thrusts – his in and out, mine meeting each of his motions to ensure the hardest collision possible. "Come on stud, FUCK ME!" I demanded. To that John moved his hands from my hips to my shoulders, taking a good grip and DRILLING me like a fuck-maniac. I gripped his balls tighter in response, and he howled, going into a long growl, and he fucked me even harder like his life, or maybe his balls, depended on it.

I felt that huge ironlike fuckrod of his getting even thicker and that head felt like it was the size of a tennis ball inside me. His balls were fighting with me to recede up, and I know he was a few thrusts away from cumming. He knew it too, because he yelled, "I'm going to fucking shoot – I need to pull out," and tried to, which only caused me to yank him back by those tanks and grind my cum dumpster down onto him so he was as deep inside me as possible. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhh FUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" he shouted, and I felt his body lose all control and felt his hot jizz flooding my fuckchute . . . and my own balls went critical and began blasting my own seed all over under me, some splashing off my chin and chest and arm that was holding his balls like my lifeline.

John pumped out and then collapsed onto my back, limp and gasping for air, and I collapsed to the bed in a heap under him, feeling my cumload all over my torso and neck and face and globs on the bedding under me. My ass was still clenched around his cock, but I let my grip on his tanks go as I settled down, and he gave a moan as I let them loose that made me smile. "You are one awesome fuck!" I said quietly through deep intakes of breath. I felt him chuckle against my back and he wrapped his arms around and under me and squeezed us together.

I'm sure it was seconds, but it seemed like a long silence while his face was buried in the sweat where my neck met my shoulder and his breathing was beginning to be quieter and more regular. "That was indescribable," he said finally. "But we, uh, shouldn't have . . . We should have been more responsible, ya know?" he finally got out.

"If I told you I want you to fuck me just like that MANY more times in the future, would I never see you again, John?" I asked, a little defensively.

Again there was what seemed like a long silence. But this time, instead of words, I felt his semi-hard cock pushing into me and getting harder again. At the same time he bit my neck, and I stretched like a cat underneath him and pushed my ass back farther onto his reviving fuckrod. He pinched my nipples then, sending shivers through me, and his strokes became longer as his cock lengthened and thickened inside me. I was in pain . . . and I was in ecstasy.

John pulled his arms out from under me and pinned my wrists above my head on the bed and used his weight and his grip on me to really start driving into me deep and hard. "Oh fuck yeah, stud, FUCK MY ASS!" I yelled, the feel of him, the sound of my ass sloppy with his last load and the smell and sound of our sex all enveloping me in renewed need.

I moved slightly so that his huge cockhead would nail my prostate on the in-thrust as well as the shaft rubbing it going past both in and out, and suddenly I was shouting all sorts of filthy things and shoving back into his now-determined thrusts. "C'mon bitch FUCK ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT. I fucking NEED that fucksword, stud. GIVE IT TO ME, man GIVE ME THAT FUCKING COCK DEEP!!!!"

For his part he was fucking me as hard as he had at the end of our prior session, my wrists pinned tight, his body slamming down and into me over and over, his balls slapping between my thighs hard enough I wondered if it hurt. He was groaning and growling and occasionally shouting, "Yeah? You like that cock, don't you?"

And everytime he challenged me I shouted, "I fucking NEED that cock so GIVE IT TO ME!" and fucked back up harder into his thrusts and worked his magnificent fuckpole harder, tighter with my assmuscles.

We never changed positions, and he just banged my mancunt furiously until he finally shouted, "You're taking this load too, you fucking cumwhore," as his knob grew again and his shaft thickened again, and I felt my body close to the edge with him. And then his hot cum once again shot into me, this time he was shouting at the top of his lungs. "OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!" as he filled me, and as my own climax ripped through me and I pumped what felt like a gallon of my seed into the bed under me, the lake of cum gooey and hot on my chest, stomach and cock.

His hands let go of my wrists above my head and started to move, but I took hold of his hands and guided them down under me, and he took the hint and hugged me tight, even giving me a kiss on my sweat-drenched neck.

I wanted to stay that way, him still inside me, our bodies heaving as we caught our breath, our sweat and cum against our skin, but I knew that was selfish of me. "Maybe you should call whoever you were coming here to see and give them an excuse for being late," I offered.

"Huh?" he mumbled into my neck.

"Well, it's been quite a while since the elevator, and you were on your way to see someone on the fourth floor who's probably none too pleased that you're late," I speculated. "Unless, of course, you hadn't committed to a time for your arrival, but then I'd wonder how you got into the building if whoever you're here to see didn't buzz you in," I added, feeling a bit Sherlock Holmes-like.

He rolled off me with a little laugh, and I moaned peevishly in protest despite it being my idea for him to pick up on the task that I'd interrupted. He flopped on his back next to me and put his forearm up over his eyes, his laugh growing. And his sweaty armpit was close enough for me to INHALE him and feel my body electrified. "Thinking of excuses?" I prodded, and I moved in and swiped my tongue languidly over his pit, sucking in his manly sweat, seeing that he apparently went natural as I do based on the absence of any deodorant or antiperspirant on my tongue. My balls twanged hard at the taste of him and harder at that realization.

"Not exactly," he said, and I thought he meant I was districting him too much to think of the excuses. So of course I moved over a bit and licked his sweaty pec and dragged my tongue first lightly then more directly over and around his nipple until I got a long moan from him. "JEEEEZ," he finally exclaimed. "It's like I took a turn and stepped into the alternate dimension of carnal delight, and the real world doesn't exist."

I brought my hand over to John's cock, which had caught my eye as I licked and chewed his nipple, lightly running the slimy length of it – again lengthening and thickening – and then over his hot sweaty balls, which I took in a light grip and massaged gently. "Sounds like your internal GPS works very well to me, John," I said with a laugh.

Silence . . . again . . . other than his moans and groans when my tongue or my hand would move his sensations to a higher point . . . which was several times. "About that call of apologies," I said quietly, moving to grasp his again-throbbing cock and eliciting a sharp "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" from him.

He finally made a quick move of jumping up, away from me quickly enough that all I could do was pout a little at his cock and nipple leaving my hand and mouth, and he bounded out of the room. I heard his feet on the wood floor then on the slate in the hall and then headed back again. He was wrestling his phone out of his pants as he reentered my bedroom and then threw them to the side and flopped down beside me again. He deftly pulled my face back to his nipple and then my hand to his beautiful cock which I had so enjoyed watching swing about as he loped out and back into my bedroom. He had his phone in the arm he'd put around me and moved it to his free hand and said, "Yup, six calls and messages."

I was about to apologize, but he'd hit redial and after a second looking at the phone screen had it at his ear. "Uh, hi, this is John Crown." He waited, listening, a serious look on his face. "Um, yeah, sorry about that, unexpectedly wayLAID," he said, emphasizing the LAID. More listening. "Oh, you did? Well then you can—" His face had brightened, and I assumed whoever he was visiting in my building was cool with the delay and he'd be on his way there soon. My mind quickly went to how to not sound too over-eager but to get him interested in coming back after his now-delayed visit. "Well, that's great. About 20 minutes then," he was saying before another pause. "Yes, that'll be great, and thanks for your patience and resourcefulness."

I wondered what the person he was seeing needed him for and found some way to fill the time, but it was really none of my business, was it. My mind quickly went to who on the fourth floor he might have been on the way to fuck, and my eyes went a little green at the thought. And apparently my grip on his cock went a little tight at the thought, too. "Whoa, Mads, you're going to have to give up your grip on me there," he laughed and gently pulled my head back and kissed me very deeply. The kiss did nothing to abate my possessive thoughts, and my body wanted him again . . . immediately. But the kiss was amazing, too, and I melted into him.

When we finally broke I said with courage I wasn't feeling, "OK, I get that you have to go, so I'll offer you the shower . . . alone so we don't wayLAY you more."

John smiled broadly and said, "Oh, no, we're showering together for sure, but it's JUST a shower because now I really do have to go." I looked less than enthusiastic, and I'd let go of his cock. "I want to enjoy you some more, trust me, but if I don't go now, the movers will just cancel it altogether – they took a lunch break when they couldn't get me before – and then I'm in BIG trouble. Come on, shower with me Mads," he said, getting up and pulling me with him.

"Did you say `movers'?" I asked, clamoring to get up and following him off the bed then pulling him toward the door to my bathroom.

"Yeah, the movers I was meeting," he said, as I hit the taps for the twelve jets in my big dream shower. "WOW!" he exclaimed at my shower and then looking around at my masterwork bathroom I'd created from the original master bath and an adjacent bedroom.

I blushed a little with pride at his awe and appreciation, then my mind spun back to `movers'. "So, uh, movers? Guess you're meeting movers for someone who's moving out and couldn't be here?" I asked, stepping into the big shower quadrant with him, the warm spray pelting both of us.

"Wow, this is amazing!" he exclaimed, and I handed him soap and a cloth.

He soaked and soaped the cloth and then advanced on me and began what was the most decadent shower experience without sex I'd ever had. Usually in the shower with another man I MUST get fucked, but somehow John's touch and obvious enjoyment of me and my body calmed me, and I found myself reciprocating and not overdoing my attention to his cock and balls in the way I'd usually do to get that beautiful fuckpole in me again. "C'mon my phone's probably buzzing to let the movers up," he said at length and headed toward the pile of towels outside. "Wow, even the towels are decadent," he exclaimed as he unfolded one of my extravagant Turkish bath sheets and wrapped it around me. "You blush so nice, Mads," he said, and he kissed the back of my neck.

When we were through drying off, he tore out to his phone on the bed where he'd left it and checked and was obviously relieved when he saw there'd been no call yet. He picked up his slacks and shook them, frowning a little at the obviously imperfect state they were in after being thrown down twice now and then looking quickly around my bedroom. "Probably downstairs with the rest of your stuff" I said, helpfully. "If you want some clean underwear, you're welcome to some of mine," I added.

John smirked at my offer and then turned and hurried out, the sound of his bare feet again on the wood and then the slate familiar and comforting to me, particularly when I heard him coming back. He started dressing and then looked at me. "DAMN, you're gorgeous naked, Mads, but get a move on so you can come downstairs with me."

I was surprised. "Go with you?"

"Yeah, I was thinking you'd help me get organized. Based on your place, you're a helluva better decorator than I am. And besides, I'm hoping you'll be spending a lot of time in my place, so we might as well start now," he said, getting his shirt inside his pants waist.

Well, well, well. Even more glad I held that elevator door!