Heat Exchange

By: Deana Farrady


"Settle down. There's a camera up there and security guys outside. You're not in any danger."

"I'm not scared," she said hotly. "I just don't know what you're doing."

"An experiment," he said. She felt him move and then his breath blew warmly in her ear. "How would you like an orgasm right now?"

Janey went rigid. "What?" She stopped herself just in time from shrieking the word. It came out more as a squeal.

Still speaking into her ear, he said, "I'd estimate we have at least twenty minutes before the doors open. I should be able to easily give you an orgasm before then. Let's give it a try, anyway. Then you can decide what to do."

She craned her neck to look at him, pretty sure her face must look like a lobster right now. "You can't be serious. You want to have sex right here in this elevator? In front of the camera? You're a sicko."

He didn't seem to get insulted by that. In fact, he appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "Not have sex. Just give you a little orgasm. All you have to do is sit there and look normal for the camera. Don't give any indication of what's happening and nobody will be arrested for public indecency."

"That's perverted."

"Really? Okay, well, then it was a bad idea. Forget it." He let go of her waist and leaned back. He seemed pretty casual about the whole thing, regarding her with one eyebrow arched.

She turned back around and stared into space.

Of course it was a bad idea.

Too bad her body wasn't agreeing. A rush of excitement was heating her blood all the way from her feet to the top of her head. The idea of doing what he said actually tempted her a lot. She'd never even thought of doing anything so daring or risqué in her life. Of course, it was ridiculous to think he could actually give her an orgasm. Here. In the elevator. Essentially in public.

Her eyes darted nervously to the security camera on the ceiling.

Twenty minutes.

More like eighteen now.

"I guess this is what I get for whining and feeling sorry for myself," she babbled, thinking aloud as much as talking to him. "It would be stupid to say no. I mean, here you are not being a total slimeball and offering me a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Are you sure you're not a total slimeball?'

She heard him snort. "Did I ever promise that I wasn't one?"

"I guess not." She said glumly, "My record's not real good here. I thought Vince wasn't a slimeball and it turned out I was wrong."

She was just wasting time now, she realized. Too much thinking and the decision would be over for her. "Um. Okay. I'll put my money where my mouth is." She waved her hands around. "You can go ahead and do whatever it is you do. But if they do decide to arrest us, you are going to have to pay the bail money. And I'll probably sue you for ruining my reputation."

He laughed. Then she heard him shift and he pulled her back and tucked her up against him cross-legged. As far as the camera was concerned, he was just a guy comforting a nervous girl in a broken elevator.

Probably nobody was even monitoring the surveillance footage, she told herself. And if they were, they couldn't see the masculine hand slide discreetly along her hip and under the bunched-up suit jacket lying haphazardly across her lap. She was the only one aware of it.

Well, and Nyall too, of course.

She shifted a bit. She felt his chest rising gently behind her with the normal rhythm of breathing. His heart wasn't pounding like a freight train over rusty tracks.

"I'm just going to slip my hand down your pants and into your panties," he whispered in her ear. "It's elastic all around right?"

Janey swallowed. "Yes," she said inaudibly, then tried again after clearing her throat.

Without further delay, the hand at her waist burrowed inside her pants, crossed the barrier of her underpants, and spread out underneath the cotton fabric. Janey looked down at her lap and was impressed. He did it so smoothly the suit jacket concealing her didn't even move.

Things were starting to get seriously surreal. Janey registered the feel of Nyall Anderson's hand lying on top of her pubic mound. It just lay there not doing anything. She figured he was giving her time to absorb what he was doing.

"Not freaked out so far?" he said.

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