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Short Story Genre: Erotica The following story contains sexual situations and sexual acts.

What Damn Day Is It by Nina Turnipseed I was slumped in the corner of the elevator, by the control panel as it began the journey upward to the twenty first floor. Through blood shot eyes and heavy eye lids I scanned the compartment, I was the only passenger. With the passing of every floor the dinging of the bell shot through my already pounding head. I was about to cover my ears to silence the annoying sound when my private carriage slowed and came to stop. The light from the bright fluorescents in the foyer filled the elevator as the doors opened. Staggering across the metal threshold I felt I was forgetting something, but what I couldn’t recall. I quickly turned facing the elevator, the doors closing. “Fuck my bag and briefcase” I shouted. Moving like a big cat going after dinner I sprang toward the closing doors, hoping to stop them. This cat didn’t land on all fours. After tripping over my own feet I was heading to the floor like a six foot spruce that had been chopped down. I was rotating my body hoping to avoid a face first landing and breaking my nose. The elevator bounced as I crashed to the floor, a thud echoed filling the car. The impact forced the air from my lungs as the closing doors bounced off my legs. I knew I couldn’t get to my feet, gather my thoughts and my luggage and escape this mechanical death trap. I pulled my legs in as the doors were making their third attempt to close. The elevator lunged and began moving as I made it to my feet. Taking deep breaths to refill my lungs with oxygen I checked the red numbers above the door as they flashed. The numbers were decreasing with every loud fucking ding. I pushed the button for the floor two down from what was displayed, hoping to stop the descent. The elevator jarred to a stop, the doors opened, luckily to an empty foyer. I focused my eyes and pushed twenty-one again.

Once the doors opened again I flung my briefcase and bag out into the foyer, then I stumbled out. I shot the mechanical device a bird over my shoulder before gathering my belongings. I was still breathing hard as I began staggering toward a glass office front that I prayed was mine. Once there I checked the name on the glass wall to make sure I wasn’t about to walk into someone else’s establishment. Sonny Rutherford Private Investigator “Yep that’s me,” I muttered as I let the bags fall from my hands to the floor. I pushed the door then pulled but to no avail, I shook the door hard, the glass wall began rattling and shaking. “Fuck the doors are locked,” I shouted while I let go of the chrome bar and fished my keys from my pocket. I looked down at the key ring. Thank God there was only six I thought. I knew in my condition this task of trying one key then another was going to be tedious which in return would piss me off. I began to ponder if I had the energy to shatter the fucking glass and walked on in. I decided against that and began eliminating the keys that I knew wouldn’t open the door. I slid the key to my car and motorcycle to the end of the ring leaving me with four. I stared at the keys while trying to deduct which one would fit. Since I couldn’t remember ever being locked out of my office before I chose the key that looked like it had the least wear. I inserted the key in the slot. Taking a deep breath and holding it I turned the key. The pop and clank of steel dead bolt echoed as it slid from the door to the jam. With my keys back in my pocket I grabbed my bags as I turned my back to the door. Once I felt the bar in the small of my back I thrust my body against the door. I fell into the waiting area, like a man who had one too many I was struggling to keep my balance. I weaved and bobbed till I fell against

Profile for The Corral

The Corral - Showcasing the Writings of the Independent Author - Issue: Sample