Her sexy boss steps into the elevator.
Shit.
There it is again.
Sexual tension.
Electric.
Like static air before a lightning storm.
She closes her eyes,
trying to visualize her husband and son.
Someone else will surely enter.
But no one does.
The smell of him bridges the distance between them.
Accents of his musk below the cologne.
Fuck it.
She’ll take the remaining 15 flights of stairs up.
They press the button at the same time,
and the shock of his touch travels up her arm.
The elevator doors ding open.
Neither exit.