The First Alpha, page 12
Pam couldn't tell if it was just her humiliated mind playing tricks on her but it seemed as if he was watching her with quiet amusement. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she caught a glimpse of a smirk in his distorted reflection. She wasn't surprised. It was clear that he lived in a world populated only with strong, confident, well-dressed and beautiful women. Pam obviously fell miles short.
She imagined he'd be whisked from the front of the building into a waiting limo that would take him to his luxurious penthouse or a restaurant where the appetizers cost the same as a week's rent. He'd never be forced to come into contact with women like Pam. His life would be free of unremarkable women who buy their clothes in the sales, or even check the price tag. He'd probably never met a woman who wore plain white panties with perished elastic at the waist. He lived in a world in which women wore lingerie 24/7. He could have anyone he pleased.
Pam's cheeks grew crimson as the elevator moved as if through molasses. The display told her they were at the 8th floor but she felt as if she'd already been there an hour. She willed the red LCD to count down more quickly, begging for this moment to be over.
Suddenly, cruelly, as if guided by a spiteful God, the lights went out and the car ground to a halt. A loud alarm filled the darkness and Pam flinched with shock. After a few moments the lights returned, but the only sound was the alarm. They were still.
Why are we not moving?, thought Pam, feeling panic rising in her throat. She clutched her purse with white knuckles, praying to feel the jolt of the car begin to descend. She didn't enjoy tight spaces at the best of times, but right now she'd sell her soul to be free of the elevator. She was desperate to be among her own kind, the hopeless wage slaves riding the bus home to their cramped apartments. Every moment she spent in this man's presence was another moment she knew she was beneath him.
Behind her she heard the man sigh softly, and a moment later he stepped forward beside her and pulled open a panel beneath the keypad. With a flick of the switch the alarm stopped, its painful trill echoing for a moment through the car, and in the sudden silence the man reached for the red emergency telephone.
'This is Robert Foster in the express elevator. Is there a problem?'
The timid, tinny voice that replied through a speaker mounted by the phone was apologetic. 'I'm sorry, Mr Foster. We lost power for a moment. The backup generators have kicked in, but we think the cut may have tripped the circuit breakers for the elevators. Sit tight, we'll have you moving in just a few minutes. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, sir.'
Pam felt her panic subside, replaced by a touch of amusement. The famously surly technicians in the building would have, as Arnie always put it when they had problems with the old, temperamental electrics, 'counseled patience' if it had been Pam on the phone. In other words they would have told her to 'hold your fuckin' horses and wait for us to get to you.' Whoever this Mr Foster was he certainly seemed to merit special treatment.
The man replaced the phone in its cradle and glanced at his watch, sighing with frustration. Pam waited for him to move back to his old spot but he remained beside her, towering over her diminutive form. Foster had a good 6 inches on her, and in the suddenly claustrophobic space she felt as if he controlled it all. There wasn't an inch of space in the elevator that didn't feel like it belonged to him.
Including her.
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K A Taylor, The First Alpha
