Chapter 3: Mrs Penelope Cashmore

Penelope Cashmore had not so long ago celebrated her sixtieth birthday but she was still a good looking woman. She exuded sophistication and was always elegantly dressed and manifested an antique charm. She was repeatedly told that she looked very much like the British actress Joanna Lumley and spoke with the same plum in her voice. Penelope was a modest woman who was not easily flattered.

Today she was visiting her lawyers in the Prudential Building and was wearing a mauve Chanel suit consisting of a tight pencil skirt and form-fitting jacket. She wore a cream satin blouse, black Christian Louboutin high heels and had accessorised sparingly with gold jewellery. Her makeup was perfect, black eyeliner and mascara, blended green and mauve eyeshadow, rouged cheeks, ruby-red Maybelline long-lasting lipstick.

But it what was what she was wearing under her suit that would have surprised her legal staff. Penelope loved the fit and feel of retro lingerie. It reminded her of when she was young woman and much sought after by the gentrified lotharios at her father’s country club although she had saved her virtue for her wedding night.

She was wearing a red satin half-cup brassiere, red silk French-cut camiknickers, a black satin suspender belt with six garters, and elegant, silken-sheer, fully-fashioned black stockings. The backseams and Cuban-heel ankle welts of her stockings often turned the heads of the more discerning gentlemen who wondered if they were pantyhose or were indeed the real thing.

Penelope kept her well-tended platinum-blonde hair long and coiffured; for business she wore it piled high on her head with bangs cut level with her eyebrows.

Her jealous friends called her mutton dressed as lamb but she didn’t care; she had looked after herself and refused to dress like an old biddy even though she was entering her golden years.

She stood waiting for the elevator in deep discussion with her top attorney. The elevator arrived and the door opened and she was only vaguely aware of a man in dark suit standing at the back of the elevator. The overhead lights didn’t appear to be working properly and the man was enveloped by shadows.

The man looked dismayed to see Penelope talking to her lawyer which delayed her entrance into the car. The door started to close and the man leapt forward and pressed the button to keep the doors open.

“No need young man; I’ll take the next one,” Penelope said distractedly.

The man kept his finger on the button, keeping the door open, willing the woman to get in the car.

Penelope finally noticed that man was holding the elevator for her and she smiled in his direction briefly although she couldn’t quite see his face.

“Look Charles, this nice gentleman, and there are few of them left, is holding the lift for me. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she offered her hand to the lawyer who took it graciously.

The man noticed the woman’s long elegant fingers and long red-painted fingernails. Her use of the word ‘lift’ gave away her inclination to spend half of the year in London even though she was an American citizen.

“Shall I accompany you to your car Miz Cashmore?” the lawyer offered courteously.

“Oh no Charles, I’d like you to start on the directions I gave you for my will as soon as possible please. When you are done please contact my secretary Cicely,” Penelope smiled at the man in the dark suit.

The man with his back pressed against the wall of the elevator holding the door open was not happy. It was not supposed to be like this. The woman should have got into the elevator car immediately and paid him no attention until it was too late.

The man breathed a sigh of relief when Penelope stepped into the car, bringing with her a miasma of perfume and then the elevator began its descent. He moved to the back of the elevator and looked down at his phone and sent a pre-scripted text message and then switched his phone to flight mode.

A technician in the lobby of the prudential Building had the control panel for the bank of elevators open and appeared to be busy poking at the wiring looms with a screwdriver when he received a text message on his phone. He looked at the text and sighed.

This was not the first time he had carried out the instructions given to him by the mysterious man in the elevator. The first time had been about a month ago in the early evening when a thirty-nine year old businesswoman named Justine had been the victim. Trapped in the elevator between the twelfth and thirteenth floor after a busy day in the office, the mysterious man had sexually assaulted her; although she had become complicit and had orgasmed and was too ashamed to report the incident.

The second time, two weeks later, a twenty-three year old secretary named Sally heading up to the eleventh floor after working out in the basement gym had been sexually violated when the elevator stopped between floors. She had been fucked hard through her slinky gym tights and enjoyed a nearly overwhelming orgasm once she stopped fighting and surrendered herself to the mysterious stranger.

The technician knew that he was an accomplice in what could legally be construed as rape. The stranger was lucky that neither of the women had filed a complaint and for that matter so was the technician. The stranger had a hold over him and blackmailed him into becoming his accomplice. The stranger hung around the lobby of the Prudential Building and carefully selected his victims. He followed them and got to know their habits and their routines.

Justine and Sally had been easy prey because the two women were creatures of habit. But Penelope Cashmore was a totally different kettle of fish. She was high-born, moneyed and came from a prominent family. She actually owned four floors of the Prudential Building including the thirty-sixth floor where her late husband’s law firm had their practice.

The stranger was crazy to take Penelope Cashmore; it was far too risky but the technician had no choice but to carry out his orders. The stranger held a sword of Damocles over his head and he could drop it at any time.

The technician watched the digital readout for the elevator which serviced the thirty-sixth floor. There was only one serviceable car because he had disabled the other and an ‘out of service’ sign hung on the entrance doors. The idiots in the lobby naturally assumed the technician was working on the faulty elevator.

The technician had been instructed to stop the elevator between floors before it reached the twelfth floor and to prevent it from stopping at any of the floors in between. Mrs Penelope Cashmore was at the mercy of the stranger but she had no idea of her fate.

The technician reread the text the message on his phone and sighed and watched the elevators car’s descent on the digital readout. He made a switch inside the control panel and the elevator car containing the stranger and Penelope Cashmore shuddered to a halt and the remaining overhead lights extinguished.

Penelope Cashmore gave an exasperated sigh when the elevator suddenly stopped and the lights went out. It was pitch-black.

“We’ve been having trouble with these lifts over the last couple of months. Management has been receiving so many complaints about them that I don’t know why they don’t just replace them,” Penelope said into the dark.

The words were said as much to comfort herself as to inform the stranger.

“Do you have one of those mobile telephones young man? I refuse to carry the infernal things; I have my secretary carry mine for me, I find them quite tiresome,” she announced in her clipped British-American accent.

The man said nothing. He stepped in close behind Mrs Cashmore and held up his phone to her face so she could see there was no reception. Mrs Cashmore knew nothing about ‘flight mode’ and had no idea what the little aeroplane symbol meant but she knew that if there were no little bars the phone wouldn’t work.

The man smiled in the dark. The woman’s naivety almost made it too easy.

He directed the screen of his phone towards the emergency phone and reached around Penelope to press the red call button. Mrs Cashmore was uncomfortable with the man being so close behind her that she could feel his body pressing lightly against hers and feel his breath on her neck. The man’s breath was sweet and minty and his aftershave was exotic, something musky, but he was still too close for comfort.

The man knew that the technician had deactivated the call button and the telephone but the charade served its purpose. The man was able to feel Mrs Cashmore’s well-rounded bottom against his thigh and in the light of the phone he could see the seams of her stockings running down her legs. He began to become tumescent in anticipation.

“Well? Anything? Has a cat got your tongue?” Mrs Cashmore was not used to being ignored and his silence irritated her.

The man rapped the phone against the side of the callbox and put it to his ear and then hung it up, demonstrating that it was useless.

“Typical,” Mrs Cashmore tutted.

The man put his phone back in the inside pocket of jacket and the elevator became dark again.

“I suppose we will have to wait!” Penelope tapped her foot anxiously on the linoleum floor.

The man’s presence, which had at first been comforting, now seemed menacing. Penelope could feel him looming behind her; the car seemed to shrink and become claustrophobic. The man’s silence was vexing. Mrs Cashmore took a step forward and her nose bumped into the polished steel elevator door.

“Shithouse mouse!” she cried; which was the most obscene that Mrs Cashmore’s language ever got.

She pressed her palms against the doors and took a step back.

Mrs Cashmore collided with the stranger, her back pressing into his muscled chest and her buttocks chafing against his groin. Before Mrs Cashmore could move away the man put his hands on her hips and held her still.

“Yes. Probably best if I stop crashing around in the dark,” Mrs Cashmore said confidently, although inside she was becoming very apprehensive.

Once again she became aware of the man’s breath on her neck and the scent of his cologne. Her own perfume was strong and the man breathed it deeply into his lungs. He pressed his groin forward and Mrs Cashmore suddenly became aware that the man was pushing his erection into her buttocks.

“Stop that and step back please!” Mrs Cashmore said using a clipped, authoritative voice.

She was a woman who was used to being obeyed.

The man gripped her hips tighter and began to grind his cock against her soft buttocks. Her tight skirt slid easily across her slinky camiknickers and the swishing sound it made seemed extraordinary loud in the quiet elevator.

“Please stop,” Penelope whispered, realising that her authority meant nothing in her current situation.

She shuddered when she felt the man’s fingers slide across her skirt and come to rest in his groin and she heard the ominous sound of a zip being undone.

“Stop that right now!” Mrs Cashmore hissed.

She considered screaming but she knew that no one would hear her. The indignity of a woman of her age and means screaming helplessly in the dark because she was scared of some lower-class ruffian appalled her. Mrs Cashmore would not stoop so low. Surely this wretch could be brought to heel.

But the man didn’t stop. She felt him slide her skirt up her firm thighs, exposing her soft creamy buttocks clad in the red silk French-cut camiknickers. Suddenly the man’s phone sprung to life, the screen softly illuminating the couple clenched together in the elevator car. The man had taken it from his coat pocket. He wanted to see what he was doing and he put the phone down in the emergency telephone callbox so that it shone on Mrs Cashmore’s body.

“Enough now!” Penelope barked when she felt the man’s hard cock nestle in the cheeks of her buttocks and began to rub on her knickers.

Mrs Cashmore had last had sex over ten years ago. It was with the late Mr Cashmore whose libido and interest in her was waning. She comforted herself with the thought that her husband’s flagging salacity had nothing to do with him being no longer being attracted to her; it was simply his age catching up. She had since found out that right up until the day he died he had chased his legal secretaries around the office and had shagged more than a few of them.

Since then she had been celibate and the feel of this man’s cock against her buttocks was quite unsettling. The man began to thrust vigorously against her silken-clad pillowy mounds and he delighted in the feel of her knickers and her soft flesh on his sensitive cock. His cock was bloated to full tumescence.

Penelope Cashmore stood stock still as the stranger clutched her hips and drove his cock along the crease of her buttocks. She knew that she was totally unable to fight off this fit young man so she decided to let him satisfy himself against her derriere if that’s what he desired. The full force of the law and her legal team would cripple the man once the elevator car started moving and arrived at the ground floor. The security guards would take the man into custody.

“You are despicable sir! Taking advantage of a matron such as myself is a cowardly act,” Penelope Cashmore hissed as the man settled into a slow sensuous rhythm.

The man just smiled and enjoyed the sensation of his cock rubbing on the cool, silky underwear while he watched his penis slide effortlessly against Mrs Cashmore’s knicker-clad ass. He admired the ruby-red shiny fabric as his cock began to darken the material as he secreted precum on the delicate garment. His hands left her hips and stroked the black satin suspender belt and traced the garters to the gauzy welts of her stocking tops.

Penelope began to struggle and tried to slap his hands away but he kept her pinned to the door while he caressed her thighs and poked his hard cock into her cleft.

“You pathetic man!” Penelope hissed but the man didn’t care.

He followed the seams of her nylons down the back of her knees where he stroked the little wrinkles in her nylon stockings. Mrs Cashmore would never admit it to anyone but it felt like butterflies were caressing the back of her legs.