Page 3

Twenty minutes later, there are still no lights, and Manuela, along with several girls from accounting, is panicking. I realize I have to do something. I don’t like being stuck in an elevator any more than they do. It overwhelms me and makes me sweat. But if I panic, it’ll be worse. I pull my hair up off my neck, holding it in place with a pin. Then I give Manuela my bottle of water and joke around with the girls from accounting while I pass out strawberry-flavored gum. It’s getting hotter in here, so I take a fan from my bag and try to cool off. It’s so hot!
Just then, one of the men leaning against the elevator wall takes my elbow.
“Are you all right?”
Without looking at him, and continuing to fan myself, I respond, “Uff. You want the truth? Or should I make something up?”
“I’d rather the truth.”
Now being playful, I turn to him. Suddenly, my nose collides with a gray sport coat. He smells very nice.
I immediately take a step back to see who it is. He’s tall. I only come up to the knot on his tie. He has brownish hair, leaning toward blond. He’s young and has clear blue eyes. I don’t recognize him at all, and seeing as he’s waiting for my response, I whisper so only he can hear me.
“Between you and me, I’ve never liked elevators, and if they don’t open these doors really soon, I’m going to lose it,” I say, still fanning myself. “Believe me, you don’t want to see me like that. I start foaming at the mouth, and my head spins like the girl fromThe Exorcist. It’s quite a scene.” I’m getting more agitated, but I’m really trying to calm down. I ask him, “Would you like a piece of strawberry gum?”
The funny thing is, he takes it, opens it, and sticks it in my mouth. I accept, a bit surprised, and without knowing why, I unwrap another stick and do the same to him. Grinning, he accepts too.
I look over at Manuela and company. They’re overwrought, sweaty, and flushed. To keep my own hysteria in check, I attempt a conversation with the stranger.
“Are you new at the office?”
“No.”
The elevator jerks, and everyone starts screaming. I follow suit. I grab the man’s arm and twist his sleeve. When I realize what I’m doing, I immediately let go.
“I’m sorry ... so sorry,” I apologize.
“It’s OK, no big deal.”
But I can’t calm down. How can I calm down when we’re trapped in an elevator? I feel a burning sensation on my neck. I open my bag and pull out a small makeup mirror. I check things out and start to curse.
“Shit, shit! I’m getting hives!”
The man looks at me, surprised. I turn and show him.
He nods and I scratch.
“Don’t do that,” he says, taking my hand. “It’ll make it worse.”
He bends over and blows on my neck. Oh God! He smells so nice, and it feels so good! Two seconds later, I realize how ridiculous I must seem when I moan.
What am I doing?
I cover my neck and try to change the subject.
“I was just going out for lunch, but the way things are going, I probably won’t eat today.”
“I imagine your supervisor will understand and will let you come back to the office a little later.”
This amuses me. He doesn’t know my supervisor.
“That’s quite an imagination.” Curious, I ask, “Your accent is ...”
“German.”
That doesn’t surprise me. We work for a German company, and there are Germans in and out all day long. But I can’t help myself, and I look at him with a malicious smile.
“Good luck in the Euro Cup!”