Friday, June 3, 2011

She stepped into the elevator. . .

Wednesday's writing prompt: She stepped into the elevator. . .

She stepped into the elevator and when she turned around to push the button for the sixth floor her heart stopped as her eyes widened.

A masked man carrying a very large gun stood in front of her, blocking her escape. She took a step in retreat when her backside bumped the hand railing, startled her and caused her to drop her books.

Heart beating out of control, she glanced up from the spilled books to the masked gunman. With his wide stance, broad shoulders, and bulging biceps, he reminded her of a bull ready to attack. He towered over her.

She trembled and swallowed the lump of fear as the man pushed the elevator button for the penthouse and that was when she saw it. She tore her gaze away from the man’s ringed finger, away from the sapphire eyes of a lion. Blue. His eyes were blue, mist blue. The kind of blue that made her want to jump into the fog and go for a late night swim.

The corner of her lip twitched and she eased her hand around the gunman’s weapon, pushed the stop button on the elevator. She stumbled and fell against the man as the elevator screeched to a halt.

“I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered as she started to unbutton her blouse.


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