Few enough people in my building realize that one of our safety features is security monitoring of the halls, fire stairs, and elevators. Even fewer visitors know it, but when your husband is in charge of building security, you know where all the cameras are, and who is watching them, and when.
The elevator seems to only gets “stuck” between floors, when I’m on my way up to our apartment, with a pretty young man sharing the car. First thing to do, of course is grab, the emergency phone and call the problem in. When the voice answering the phone is your husband’s and he tells you to sit tight – it will be 10-15 minutes while they check and fix the problem… you strike up a conversation with the guy you’re stuck in the elevator with. Like about how he is coming to visit his girlfriend on the 27th floor, and isn’t that nice?
By the time the elevator shudders to a start again, there’s nothing to arouse little miss 27th floor’s suspicion – except maybe her beau might last a little longer in bed tonight, if he can stay awake.
By the time Stan comes home from handing off to the night shift, he’s copied the camera file for our little library, and has probably watched it himself a few times. He knows all my give-aways that show when I’m hitting climax. And he knows that I always make sure to look right at the camera when my ride companion is coming. By the time he sees his slut of a wife, he’s all worked up.
He always takes it out on me in the best ways.