Chapter 1

It was hard to see my father in a hospital bed lying amid a mess of tubes and wires. Triple bypass surgery would, “only delay the inevitable,” the doctor had said the night before the surgery, “unless you change your ways.”

Previous warnings had gone unheeded but this time I thought the look in Dad’s eyes indicated he would finally smarten up. However, such confidence proved unwarranted. It was only five days since the surgery and he was already discounting the doctor’s warning. Feeling better, he flirted with the nurses at every opportunity. When a couple arrived to visit his roommate, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the young woman’s body.

In his defense, I had to admit that any man would have a hard time ignoring that piece of art, especially when it was wrapped in a ‘fuck me’ dress more suitable for clubbing than visiting a boyfriend’s father. You could see every contour of her body and imagine much more. Cast your eyes higher, though, and your passion would be dulled because this woman clearly possessed the arrogance of self-entitlement born from a lifetime as a star attraction, at least for males.

Her boyfriend was equally handsome and just as superficial. Even while visiting his father, he constantly struck poses to emphasize his lean, youthful physique though the only potential audience once the nurses left was my mother.

It startled me that this dance floor hero regarded my mother as a sexual target. What passed through his mind to think a woman her age would be sexually attracted to him, especially while visiting her ailing husband in a hospital? You can imagine my surprise when I finally tore my own eyes away from his girlfriend’s charms to find Mom’s gaze directed straight at the barely contained lump on the front of the young man’s tight trousers.

The couple talked constantly, sparring with one another as they ‘visited’ the man’s father. She preened and stretched so either breasts or ass or both were thrust against the thin material of the skimpy dress while he twisted his arms to flex his muscles and breathed deeper than necessary to expand his chest, holding his breath briefly for maximum effect. Several times she bent over to examine her leg for some invisible flaw, stretched out her foot and tensed the muscles in her calf to display the limb in its best light.

Although they seemed oblivious of anyone else, each was constantly aware of their potential audience. In this regard, the woman’s task was easier, or the ground more fertile, because she had three men to work with: two sick old men and me. It was disappointing to note that the poses directed in my direction were only marginally more frequent than the others. Mom, however, was the beneficiary of all of the young man’s posturing, even, and perhaps especially, when his girlfriend was looking at him. What an immature pair.

The couple left with a flourish and Dad’s eyes fixated on the tumble of the woman’s shapely buttocks so firmly it would have take a pry bar to dislodge them. I looked at Mom and she looked at me, then rolled her eyes. I smiled.

“It’s time for us to go too, Ryan.”

I nodded. Mom leaned down and kissed Dad on the cheek.

“Night, dear. Try not to give yourself another heart attack.”

Dad kept his eyes on target and even leaned away from Mom to maintain a good view. What an asshole! If he only knew how distraught she had been for the past few weeks. I turned and walked away in disgust.

“Say goodnight to your father, Ryan.”

I waved but didn’t turn around as I walked to the abandoned nurse’s station to wait for Mom. The couple was returning from the direction of the elevator.

“Hey, is there anyone here?” the guy asked.

I resented the inherent superiority in the way he addressed me. I shook my head and tried not to look at his girlfriend until he passed by me. She was looking me up and down and seemed unconcerned whether or not he was aware of her appraisal.

“Know where they’ve gone?”

“Nope.”

“The elevator’s not working.”

Mom joined us. “The elevator’s not working?” Mom repeated.

“No,” the man turned toward Mom and flashed a winning smile.

“Shit. I don’t want to get stuck in this place. Find some stairs, Ramone.”

“Bullshit,” Ramone retorted. “I ain’t walking down no five floors.” He turned toward the nurse’s station and peered into the darkness of the office behind it. “Anybody there? We need to get out of here,” he yelled.

His complaint was greeted by silence. Obviously, this late at night, the staff was reduced and the few nurses on shift were dealing with restless patients or administering medicine. He called out again, anyway, as if there might be someone in there ignoring him.

“Come on, Ramone. Find someone to help us get out of here,” his girlfriend whined.

“There might be a service elevator,” I suggested. “Down there,” I said, pointing in the opposite direction from the elevator.

“Let’s give it a try,” Mom said.

As we walked down the hall, the woman groaned, “Ramone,” but their footsteps followed.

I don’t know whose shoes clicked louder in the muted hallway, his or hers. Didn’t they know sick people were trying to sleep? I was tired of these two and wished they had stayed at the nurse’s station. I didn’t think there would be another elevator but was pretty sure there would be stairs at the end of the hall. Mom and I could get down the five floors pretty quick.

“Here we are,” Mom announced.

Sure as hell, she had found an elevator and there was a stairwell another ten feet on in case that one was also broken. Mom pushed the button and the light came on after a brief delay, followed by the creaking sound that older elevators make when they move.

“At least there’s one man here who can do something,” the woman said.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled as I felt Ramone’s anger. I studiously avoided eye contact and waited for the elevator to open. A few seconds after it arrived, the door opened onto a room twice as wide and long as a normal elevator. You could have easily fit four hospital beds in it. There were doors and controls at each end. We stepped inside.

“Man this thing is so old I’m surprised it has buttons,” Ramone said.

“Or works,” Mom added.

“It smells,” the woman said.

“Shut up, Nita. We’ll only be in it for a minute. Come on, man,” he said to me. “Push the button.”

There was no button for the first floor, or the lobby, so I depressed the one labeled ‘B1’ and, with a lurch, the elevator started down. I stepped back and turning, pressed my back against the wall. Mom stood near me while Ramone stayed in the center with Nita leaning against him. His arm curled around her waist and the dress pulled in tighter against her body. Sparring or not, I knew these two would go to a club, drink their face off while posing for everyone around, and then go home and fuck their asses off in some crummy apartment. The house that awaited Mom and I seemed empty and sterile in comparison.

The elevator passed the fourth floor and stopped. Then the lights flickered and it started again. The number three at the top of the door lit up. Ten seconds later, number two lit up and the elevator lurched violently but didn’t stop. Ramone and Nita almost lost their balance and clung to each other more tightly.

“Motherfucker,” Ramone barked.

Mom cast an annoyed glance at him and moved closer to me. I glowered at him but he didn’t take any notice.

‘B1’ lit up and all of us stepped closer to the door. We waited, but it didn’t open. I pressed the button marked “Open” but nothing happened.

“Press the button to open the door, man.”

“I did,” I snapped. This guy was really getting on my nerves.

“Try it again, Ryan,” Mom suggested quietly.

“Okay,” I said.

“Yeah, try it again, Ryan,” Ramone laughed, mimicking Mom’s voice.

“Shut up, Ramone,” Nita said.

“Close your yap.”

I pressed the ‘Open’ button several times.

“It doesn’t work.”

“Let me do it.”

I stepped aside and let the big man take the controls. He stabbed at the ‘Open’ and ‘B1’ buttons alternately several times as if they would work when pressed by a real man, jabbing harder each time.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Ramone yelled. He smacked the wall above the buttons and then kicked it.

“Maybe ‘B1’ is restricted,” Mom suggested, pointing at the keyhole at the bottom of the button array. “Let’s go up one floor and come back down the stairs.”

Ramone looked pissed off. Nita looked to the side, nodding her head as if it was about time someone thought of the obvious answer. Mom pushed the button for the second floor. Nothing happened. Mom pushed the button several more times, each time jabbing it harder like Ramone had done.

“Shit,” she cried.

“We’re stuck,” I said.

“No kidding,” Ramone replied.

Mom banged on the metal door. “Hey, let us out.”

Ramone joined in, yelling louder. “Let us out, man!”

Nita joined the chorus. A minute later, they stopped and withdrew for a rest. Mom joined me and Ramone and Nita leaned against the wall on the other side. We looked at each other, then avoided looking at each other. One by one, we all took another turn banging on the door and yelling. I remembered how thick the elevator door had been and understood how little chance there was that the deadened sound of our yelling would be heard.

“Nobody can hear us.”

“Oh man,” Nita cried. “We can’t be stuck in this cave all night.”

“What time do they change shifts?” Ramone asked.

“Probably at six,” Mom said.

“Six?” Ramone looked horrified. “That’s almost seven hours from now.”

Mom nodded and Nita slumped down to the floor, her back sliding all the way down the wall which was great because the drag forced her dress almost up onto her ass. When her butt hit the floor, Nita’s knees splayed apart for a moment and I caught a glimpse of a narrow strip of dark panties stretched over a swollen mound. My attention had been riveted fast enough to determine that the pussy underneath was likely shaved because there were no stray hairs on either side.

Nita’s legs snapped shut and she flashed me a crooked smile. I blushed and quickly looked at Ramone but he was leaning against the wall with his hands clutching his head in exasperation. Relieved, I looked back at Nita who was still regarding me with a knowing smile. I hazarded a cautious smile of my own and her eyes sparkled flirtatiously in response. This woman, only half a dozen years older than me, had a one track mind: Who, at the moment, was interested in her?

“Oh dear,” Mom said. With greater caution, she sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall, unconsciously taking care to keep her legs together. Once down, she removed her shoes. “I guess we’re going to be here for a while.”

“Fuck.” Ramone pushed off the wall and starting pacing from door to door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” On the third pass, he suddenly noticed the other door and banged on it, yelling, “Hey man, let us out for fuck’s sake.”

I slunk down to sit beside Mom and Ramone resumed his pacing. I watched his legs go by for a while, Nita ignored him and studied her nails, and Mom stared straight ahead. I did notice that Mom’s gaze was on a level with Ramone’s hips and seemed to focus on the lump in front of his pants each time he passed, a lump I was sure was artificially enhanced.

I was again startled by Mom’s apparent sexual thoughts. Clearly, Ramone had picked up on this upstairs. Would he actually bang my mother, a woman fifteen or more years older than him? Maybe not now, but I was sure if he was alone he would give it a try, probably just to prove he could have any woman he wanted. He was easy to read, all about ego, but Mom was a different story. Would she actually fuck this phony dickwad or was she just surprised that he had been making eyes at her upstairs?

I slid my eyes sideways and tried to look Mom over without her or Nita realizing what I was doing. She didn’t have Nita’s youthful figure but she was about the same size and her body was more than okay. Maybe things were less firm, but hey, she wasn’t bad, especially for a woman in her forties. I looked at Mom’s lower legs and the little bit of thigh that I could see. Not bad. Yup, I was sure Ramone would do her if he had half a chance.

I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to picture Mom in the more revealing garb she wore in the summer. My memories confirmed that she really did have a nice figure. They sprang into my consciousness like little movie shorts. It was amazing that I could remember each segment in such detail: Mom laughing, moving about, crossing her legs, bending over to pick something up, reaching up, lying on the couch, reading, unaware her skirt fallen from her knees. I remembered standing beside Mom one morning while she sat at the kitchen table, unaware that her robe was open and her nightgown had fallen half off her left breast and exposed the right so much that I could see the swell of the underside as it curved away from her chest. I remembered trying to stand very still then to prolong the moment as long as I could.

I pulled my head off the wall and opened my eyes. What the fuck was I thinking?

Ramone had sat down opposite Mom, his head thrown back like mine had been and his arms draped on his pulled-up knees with hands dangling over. Mom was looking straight at him, right between his open legs. Nita, sitting opposite me, was smiling. Slowly, eyes glinting with excitement, she opened her legs until her panties showed again. She flicked her eyes and I knew that, even though Mom was sitting beside me and staring across the elevator, Nita knew that she wouldn’t notice what she was doing. Nita pouted her lips and blew me a kiss.

I immediately felt a reaction in my groin, and then fear as Ramone flung his head forward.

“Give me your purse.”

“No.”

“Give it to me.”

Ramone grabbed Nita’s purse despite her attempt to keep it away from him.

“No Ramone. Not here.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Ramone dug something out of the purse and flung it aside. He popped whatever it was into his mouth and settled back against the wall. Some time later, he stretched out and put his hands behind his head. He didn’t even notice when the lights flickered out and the dull emergency lamp turned on. In the fading light, Nita slumped down and used her purse as a pillow. She kicked off her high heels and pulled her knees up, fitting her feet snugly against her buttocks, evidently unconcerned about how much of her backside was on display.

Mom looked at me and shrugged. I avoided looking at Nita for a while but my gaze eventually returned to those dark panties. Several minutes later, Nita turned onto her side and pulled her knees up. Her thin, ‘fuck me’ clubbing dress was pulled up almost to her hips and I longed to cross the floor to take her right there, on her side, from behind. Nita lifted her head to rearrange her purse into a better pillow. Her eyes glinted in the dim light before settling back onto the purse. What a little cocktease!

Mom slid down into a similar position and put her head on her own purse, then pushed her backside toward me until it bumped against my leg. I looked down at Mom’s dress, more demurely arranged to cover her legs almost to her knees. Her legs below that were covered in stockings but her arms were bare and tanned, slender and lightly muscled like Nita’s despite her age.

In the privacy of the dim light, with everyone else lying with heads hidden or turned away, I compared Nita’s body to Mom’s, the latter conservatively dressed and the former lewdly displayed. I imagined Mom’s body outfitted in the ‘fuck me’ dress and pictured what she would look sitting opposite me instead of Nita.

You know what, Ramone, I thought. If she wasn’t my mother, I’d fuck her too.

Jesus, Ryan! I gave my head a shake. If everyone else was going to sleep, so should I, especially if I was going to have such ridiculous thoughts. I shook my sandals off and stretched out.

As I dozed off, I thought about Nita. In my mind, I crawled across the elevator to pull those dark panties down her legs. Finding myself miraculously naked, I shoved my cock into her wet pussy. Immediately, it sunk in deep. Her eyes smoldered as she looked past her shoulder to watch me fuck her with great lunges, her mouth shaped into a big ‘O’ to egg me on that retained its shape even as each powerful thrust knocked her head into the wall. Then Nita’s face turned into Mom’s and I stopped, groaning into near wakefulness. Soon, I was dreaming about Nita again, pushing her onto the hospital bed and taking her from behind while Mom talked to Dad and Ramone spoke to his father, each seeking forgiveness for some reason or another, and completely oblivious to the vigorous pounding I was serving upon Nita.

My eyes opened but I couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black. Obviously, I had fallen asleep and sometime after that the emergency lights had quit working. A fan was busily exchanging the air in the elevator so it wasn’t a power thing or the fan wasn’t on the same circuit. At least something had gone right.

I pulled myself up into a sitting position and braced my back against the wall. Man I was stiff. Sleeping on a hard floor sucked. I stretched and peered around but no amount of acclimatization was going to let me penetrate the darkness. There was no minimum amount of light to accommodate to; there was in fact, no light at all. I heard breathing nearby. The others were asleep.

What time was it?

I had no idea. Mom’s cell phone was in her purse. I reached out to feel for it but felt nothing. She must have put it down on her other side, or maybe she was using it as a pillow. Crap. I was wide awake.

I stood up and stretched, then cautiously felt my way forward until I was where the middle of the elevator should be. I moved carefully to avoid stumbling into someone and used my hands to explore the air in front of me as I sought the far door. Half a dozen small steps to the end but how far from the other door had I started? I walked back the way I had come, counting my steps. Eight. I turned, squared my back against the door and returned. Ten steps. Probably more because I was more confident that the path was clear. Back the other way. Ten steps. Good.