Backstage of 'Elevated'

She hits the stop button and turns. The elevator hums to silence. Her blonde hair sticks to one flushed cheek. I taste her mouth before I catch her name. Her tongue is urgent, her hand already working between us. She spins me around, palms the small of my back until my cheek meets cold steel. My skirt rides up. She drags lace aside and pushes two fingers straight into me. The wet sound fills the tiny car. She works me slow, then harder, until my knees give. I grind back. She laughs once, low, then drops to her knees and spreads me wider. Her tongue slides in, hot and exact, licking deep between my cheeks before circling my clit. I come once, gasping, hips jerking against the mirrored wall. She keeps going, hungry, like she has all day and nothing outside this box matters. When she stands again her lips shine. She kisses the taste into my mouth. The elevator stays still. We stay exactly where we are.