Going Up

Siren, through her tears, gave him an arch look. Was the handsome man with the tanned faced and graying hair her knight in shining armor or was he just an opportunist? Was he a rescuer or a villain? He could be a rapist for all she knew. Despite his friendly, fatherly demeanor, he was, after all, a complete stranger to her. Still, what alternative did she have? None. She nodded her agreement. "Okay. Thanks."

The elevator seemed to take an eternity to arrive, and it appeared nothing less than a miracle that no one else happened along to see her naked, cock and balls, breasts and buttocks, on display for anyone who chanced to pass by to see. Of course, the elevator might stop at another floor-or other floors-on the way up, too. Siren thought it was more or less a certainty that she'd be seen by someone other than her benefactor-or the man, she hoped, at least would turn out to be a benefactor, rather than a rapist or worse.

Finally, the elevator car arrived, and she stepped inside, the graying man joining her. At once, he put her fears to rest. Producing an odd-looking key, he inserted it into a slot inside the panel on the wall beside the closed doors, where the buttons for the various floors were located. He twisted the key. "This a manual override device," he told the actress. "Now that I've used it, the elevator won't respond to anyone else's summons. It will take us straight to the top floor." He smiled at her again. "Going up?" he asked.

She nodded.

He pressed the button labeled "94."

Siren gave her companion a measured look. "Your office is on the top floor?"

He nodded.

"But there's only one office on the top floor," she said, her eyes widening. "Mr. Fenton's."

Charles Fenton was the president of the studio.

He nodded again, but, this time, the bob of his head was accompanied by a faint smile. He extended his hand. "Charlie Fenton," he introduced himself, "at your service."