Probably those girls on 18, Clifford thought to himself. The alarm light on his console told him that the fire door was open on the eighteenth floor stairwell. That was the top floor, the headquarters of Stoddard, Sparks, Feldman, one of the largest accounting firms in the city. Tax time, Clifford reminded himself, getting his hat from the security desk, and heading for the elevators. From January to mid-March, the tax people at Stoddard worked night and day. The security manual required him to go check the fire door, and log the time in the book. He would like to meet the idiot that had instituted the smoke free policy for the building. Not only because he wanted a cigarette himself, but also because it made for an extra walk through the building at least once a week, whenever someone decided that smoking in the stairwell was all right.
The people at Stoddard were particularly problematic because from eighteen, you could walk up a flight onto the roof. Clifford watched the numbers light up over the elevator door as the cab headed upward, 14,15,16,17,18. The elevator doors opened and Clifford scanned the area, but saw no signs of life. The main door to Stoddard Sparks Feldman was open about an inch, but there were no lights on inside. Clifford pulled the mag-lite from his belt and swept the beam around the room. Stepping inside, he moved silently across the room, and suddenly stopped, frozen in place. Clifford had quickly turned off the flashlight when he saw movement to his left. Standing in silence, he listened for any sound of an intruder. His breathing sounded heavy, and he tried to remain calm. Clifford stood still for a long moment until his hands were no longer shaking. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see his own reflection in the display case to his left, approximately where the intruder should have been. He would have laughed at himself, had he not been shaking furiously.
Sarah lit another cigarette and was determined to smoke it right down to the filter. She was still smoking as fast as she could. She felt like to smoking the entire pack, after the day she'd had, but her bare stockinged foot was getting colder by the second. She flexed her toes, examining the silky sheer fabric of the stocking. Resting her hand on the wall for balance, she lifted her foot, rearranging the seam. "Another couple of hits," she thought, rubbing her arch up and down her shin, puffing the cigarette, and rubbing her chilly hands together.
"I'm going to log in at the fire door and go the hell home," Cifford said, addressing the empty room. He hated this job when it involved just sitting at the desk until 10:00 p.m. and being polite to the few people leaving work for the day. On nights like this, patrolling through a dark building for $7.00 an hour, he thought about his retirement next year. His watch said 9:35 as he approached the fire door. He immediately noticed that it was open about four inches, and he felt the fear return. Back to the wall, he approached the open door cautiously. "God Damn," he said, breathing another sigh of relief. There was a beige high heel shoe propping the door open. Clifford looked through the opening into the stairwell and saw that the door to the roof was open too. "Secure" Clifford wrote in the logbook, suddenly very irritated. He pulled the stiletto heel several inches into the hallway, and let the door slam and lock. "Yuppies. I hope she enjoys her walk to the ground floor," he thought, knowing that the fire door on each floor could only be opened from inside the hallway, by pushing the panic bar.
Clifford didn't even stop at the security desk. He threw the logbook in the drawer and kept walking, headed for the parking garage. He might just quit this job, he thought, and he could hardly wait to get to the bottle under the front seat of his car.
Sarah decided it was just too cold. Walking from the penthouse to the stairwell door, she flicked her half finished cigarette into the biting wind, which carried it horizontally until it was out of sight. Another blast lifted the back of her skirt as she held the front in place with both hands. As she walked, her eyes scanned the adjacent buildings for any signs of an audience, but she had not detected any spectators. The rubber roof felt weird, cold but soft as her bare toes hurried across it. As she struggled to open the door, the wind caught her skirt full force for an encore performance, inverting it, and holding it aloft like a giant white tulip. In spite of the chilly air, she felt her face get very hot, and she scanned the façade the Trade Center across the street for the tenth time in a minute. Heading down the stairs from the roof to 18, she decided it would be better to just wrap it up for the night, and try to catch up by coming in early tomorrow morning. She was tired, and the spontaneous floorshow on the roof made her long for the warmth and privacy of her own bed. She thought about ordering some Chinese food to pickup on the way home and she might also want to...
The door was closed! She had blocked the stairwell door with her shoe so it wouldn't close behind her, but the door had closed anyway. Sarah pounded on the heavy metal fire door. There was nothing to grab or pull on, in fact, it didn't even have a handle on this side. What happened? She was certain that she had been the last one working, and she remembered the cleaning people had come yesterday. Sarah looked down at her tan stockinged foot next to her expensive stiletto heeled shoe. "Maria," she thought.
Sarah and Maria had played a sort of game for the last few months. Sarah had stolen Maria's shoe at the airport, leaving her to walk the entire terminal wearing only one shoe. The next day, Maria had gotten even by snatching Sarah's shoe at a cafeteria several blocks away, leaving her to walk back through the slushy streets in only one shoe. Several other incidents ensued and it was all in fun. But today, Sarah and Maria were sitting in front of Mr. Stoddard's desk and she had kicked Maria's dangling shoe hard enough to land under Stoddard's desk, maybe even under his chair, but well out of sight. Some client had come in and Maria had to walk from her seat to the conference table without her shoe, and make a brief presentation in her stockinged feet. Maria had done nearly the same thing to Sarah, but things had really escalated when she had stolen Maria's boot in the morning meeting last week, secretly replacing it with another identical boot that was a few sizes too small.
"Maria!" she called out, but heard no signs of life from behind the fire door. Sarah looked around the stairwell, taking in the situation. At floor level, there was a small metal door with a clear plastic center panel, containing a fire hose. She got down on hands and knees to examine the hatch door more closely. From this level, she could see that there was an identical door on the hallway side and she could even see the office door. When she pushed the inside hatch, it opened easily. She pushed the hose to one side, just enough to fit her head through the opening. She could see her shoe resting against the doorjamb, eight feet away, and beyond her reach. "Maria?" she called again, but there was no sound on the 18th floor.
Sarah stood up and examined the sign she had walked by many times, but never read. IN CASE OF FIRE DO NOT USE ELEVATOR EXIT STAIRWELL AT GROUND FLOOR. Sarah was not enthusiastic about walking down 18 flights of rough concrete steps, particularly in her stockinged feet. She could almost reach her shoe, she thought, examining the fire hose hatch again. If she had a stick or something, maybe she could reach the shoe, or maybe even reach the door handle...or if she could unfurl the hose, she might be able to use it like a rope. She quickly unhooked the hose and removed it from the opening, and put her head through. Gathering a length of hose, she flung it toward the shoe. Not even close. "Maria? Are you here?" She was greeted with silence again.
She looked at the shoe a two yards away. If she could just get her arm through, maybe she would have better control and...she wiggled herself forward into the hatch and after considerable effort, her head and one arm were well inside the hallway. That was a big plus she thought. On the debit side of the equation, she could hardly breath and her skirt was at least half a foot lowered from its previous location. She wondered if she had closed the roof door fully, feeling quite a draft on her now exposed panties. "Note to self," she thought, "do not wear satin undies with a satin lined skirt when crawling around on the floor." She laughed softly to herself, but stopped abruptly when she considered the possibility of someone coming up the stairs just now. "Hurry," she told herself, pushing a little further into the small opening.
Too tight she realized, and suddenly felt uncomfortable and very claustrophobic. She struggled to back out of the opening, but the skirt, which had now fallen to mid-thigh, was confining her legs. Clearly, she was stuck. Her heart began to race at the thought of her coworkers finding her in this position in the morning, shirt bunched up around her chest, white satin panties in full view, shining like a beacon in the dimly lit stairwell. Even worse, what if the night watchman came up the stairs. Sarah wondered if the fire hose had any type of alarm sensor! She hadn't even noticed. Suddenly feeling real panic, she thrashed hard with her legs, fighting to free her legs of the skirt. After considerable effort she kicked the skirt aside.
Was that a noise in the stairwell behind her? Her skirt was completely off now, and someone was coming up the stairs! Sarah pulled back hard with her knees, backing out quickly now, but pulling her jacket up over her head in the process, pinning her arms. Nearly free of the opening, she was startled as her hip touched cold metal, and her progress stopped. She tried to move sideways, but left or right, the cold metal moved with her. After a moments consideration, she determined that her panties were hooked over the door handle of the hatch door. And she was sure she had heard a noise that time! Renewing her struggle, she finally pulled her arm free of the jacket sleeve, and reaching her free hand over her back, she tugged the satin fabric attempting to pull free of the door handle. After several attempts, she became desperate and pulled hard enough to free herself. Concentrating on pulling herself from the hatch again, she paused to catch her breath and assess her situation.
Her left arm and a good portion of her head remained on the hallway side of the hatch opening. Her right shoe was eight feet from her face, but she couldn't see it because her jacket was covering her head. Besides, it was well beyond her grasp, and was a minor distraction, compared to being nearly naked in a public building. Sarah moved her leg, sweeping her stockinged foot across the stair landing in a wide arc, hoping to find her discarded skirt and somehow pull it over her. She knew that her skirt lay somewhere on the floor of the stair landing behind her, and from what she could tell, she now wore the remnants of her satin undies around her left knee like a garter. As a consolation, her thigh high stockings were still in place, although she could find little solace in that fact. She was naked from the chest down, exposed to whoever came up the stairs, and the stairwell was feeling even draftier. She wondered if she had left the roof door open, and whether someone in the taller building next door was looking at her now. Or even worse, dialing the fire department. "Please Maria, if you're here, this isn't funny anymore. I've ruined my clothes and I'm stranded and nearly naked. Please Maria..."
She waited a long time, but no answer came. With one final effort, Sarah pulled free of the hatch, losing her jacket in the process, but after nearly being strangled by it, she didn't consider it much of a loss. Standing in the stairwell again, she quickly scrambled to retrieve the skirt. Unfortunately, she had popped the button off of the waistband in the struggle, and it was nowhere in sight. Worse yet, the zipper was completely torn from the fabric on one side, and what had been an eight-inch zipper closure had been ripped to about two feet in length. A mere inch of fabric at the hem was all that allowed her to call this a skirt as opposed to a flag. Holding the skirt together with both hands, it barely covered anything. The fact that her undies were slouching around one ankle like a snow-white satin bandana also complicated things quite a bit. What to do now she wondered?
Perhaps she could repair the panties, she thought, retrieving them from the top of her one remaining shoe. The lining of the skirt was soft and slippery against her bare skin, and as she tried to tie the waistband in a knot, her skirt fell to the floor again. She pulled the skirt up and leaned against the handrail to hold the skirt in place. This worked splendidly for twenty seconds or so, and the skirt fell to the concrete floor once more. Sarah took a deep breath and listened intently for any signs of life in the building. Hearing nothing, she hesitantly stepped out of the skirt, and hung it over the handrail. At any moment, she envisioned the door opening, someone catching her standing there half naked. After several attempts, she did manage to knot the waistband tightly, and stepped into the panties again. She pulled them up to the top of her stockings, but they would not go any further. Frustrated, she pulled a little harder, and nearly had them up when the knot gave way, and her hand slipped, knocking the skirt off the rail. She watched in horror as it became smaller and smaller, then disappeared, catching on something many floors below. The white satin handkerchief that had been her undergarment an hour before was floating down after it. At that point, Sarah was sure things could not get any worse, and illusion she held only briefly. She absolutely, positively heard footsteps now.
Frozen in panicked silence, she held her breath until she thought she might pass out. After she failed to detect any other sound, she cautiously started down several floors of steps, hoping to see the skirt around the next corner at each turn. She stopped suddenly. Now she was certain that she had heard the noise again, and closer this time. Sarah turned and raced up the stairs, all the way back to the eighteenth floor. She definitely heard footsteps now, and they were coming up the stairs. Sarah bounded up the final flight of stairs, and stood just inside the door to the roof. The footsteps sounded closer now, and she backed out through the doorway, her half clothed body on the roof, with only her head inside the door. She couldn't tell how close, but someone was close. Sarah closed the roof door.
Several months ago, she had lost her shoe on the way to a convention, and at the time, she thought that it was the worst embarrassment she could endure. Now she was standing on top of an eighteen-story building wearing a bra, a blouse, one shoe, two stockings, and a watch. It occurred to her that she was counting the watch as clothing now. Why not the earrings too? Sarah would never consider walking through her own home in this state of undress. She looked around at the taller buildings surrounding this one. Were those lights on before, she wondered? How many people could see her right now if they happened to look out? As if on cue, any icy breeze blew her blouse up over her head, exposing her bra, and the rest of her nearly naked form for the entire world to see. As she reached up to grab pull it down, another sudden gust pulled the shirt sleeve off of her extended arm. Sarah battled the wind driven shirt, which was now connected to her only at one wrist. She had desperately hoped that no one would see her standing atop this building wearing only stockings, one shoe, and a bra, and now she was waving a brilliant white flag furiously in the air, like a shipwrecked castaway signaling a plane. She was nearly certain that she had seen someone looking out from the window across the street, and someone had just turned the lights out in that office. She managed to get her arm back into the sleeve and wrestled the blouse into some semblance of order, shivering hard, not entirely from the cold.
Sarah stuck her head inside the door and listened carefully. There was no sound, and besides, she couldn't stay out in the freezing cold, nearly naked for long. She gathered her resolve, re-entered the building, and cautiously made her way down the steps a floor at a time, trying each door, just in case it was unlocked. On the eleventh floor, she found her skirt. It was hanging over a sprinkler head several feet out of reach. Sarah took off her remaining shoe and tried to toss it at the skirt in an attempt to free it from the sprinkler pipe. No luck, but she had another idea. Listening intently until she was absolutely positive that she was alone, she took off her blouse and removed her bra, Standing completely naked now, she pried open the tiny hook on the bra. She swung the bra over her head and the tiny hook just missed the skirt. Sarah went down to the land and retrieved the high heel. Standing on a step, the shoe made her just tall enough and the hook caught the waistband of the skirt on the next try. "Saved!" she thought and pulled the skirt toward her. She leaned forward, standing on her toes, and stretched as far as she could. It was stuck on the sprinkler head, but if she could just pull gently, that's it, and a little to the left, and... SNAP! She looked up at the sprinkler in horror. The end of the strap had slipped from her fingertips and the elastic had snapped back, landing the bra directly on top of the skirt, both now well beyond her reach on the sprinkler head.
Sarah shook her head dejectedly, looked at the sprinkler once more, and started descending the steps to ten as she pulled her blouse on over her nude body. "That skirt wasn't going to stay on anyway," she told herself, heading for the ground floor. She noticed that somewhere along the line, she had lost all of the buttons from the blouse. Her hand held it partially closed, as she continued downward, and tried to think of a plan. If she could get to the elevators, she could get back to her office and get her car keys, her jacket, and her other shoe. Then if she could get to her car in the garage, she probably had some more clothes in the trunk. The problem was, how could she make it through the lobby without being seen? She had walked through the building many times at this hour, and had seldom seen anyone. On the other hand, the main lobby was the size of a small stadium, and lit up like one too. And there was another problem. She knew there was at least one other person in the building, but where? Sarah pulled the shirt closed and descended to the ground floor.
Crossing the lobby was the first problem. Sarah opened the door to the ground floor slightly and listened. Hearing no one, she opened it a little further and looked around the giant glass atrium. There was no sign of anyone in the lobby, but there was a lot of traffic on the street as well as pedestrians on the sidewalk. If she waited a few hours, it would clear out some, but this was the busiest part of the city, and there would be traffic here at all hours. She could go back up the stairs and try to pry open one of the doors, she thought, but it would require some sort of tool. Dreadful as it was, she knew the elevator was the only real option at this point. It was about a hundred feet forward, and she thought she could make it in well under a minute, if the elevator car was on this floor. "60 seconds of hell," she thought. Her blouse hung just to her hips, and offered no coverage front or back. She just had to hope that no one was looking for those 60 seconds.
Sarah followed the second hand on her watch all the way around, just to see how long a minute really was. Nearly an eternity she concluded, and felt a little lightheaded. "I can't sit in the stairwell naked all night, can I?" she asked aloud, opening the door once more. Just as she was about to step out into the brightly lit atrium, she stopped suddenly, noticing some pedestrians outside who were looking straight at her, as if they could see through the metal door. They were lined up at the window just staring. "Incredible," she thought, "like they're here for a show or something," until she realized that they were not looking at her, but at a lobby display set up by a travel agent in the building. Which gave her a great idea!
It was all or nothing, Sarah thought, and after considerable trepidation, she removed her silk blouse again, standing totally naked. She held it out in front of her and tied the cuffs behind her neck, so that the shirt collar hung low on her chest. Then she pulled the shirttails behind her back, tucking the bottom of the shirt between her thighs. The material seemed painfully sheer without any undergarments, but preferable to spanning the lobby naked from the waist down. "This was not really much different than the Pareo Dress she had worn on vacation in St. Lucia," she told herself, except that she was wearing it with tan stockings and one shoe, and that her entire backside was exposed. Still, if she faced the front windows directly, from a distance it might not look like...well it just might pass from a distance.
Before her resolve faded, Sarah pushed open the door and headed for the elevator with all the confidence she could summon. She kept both hands on her hips to hold the shirt/pareo in place. She quickly covered half the distance and her the plan was working just fine! She was uncomfortable with the number of pedestrians on the sidewalk at this hour, and a small group of young men wearing college sweaters had turned their attention from the travel display to look directly at her. She felt unsteady, blushing crimson, but she continued forward. The sleeves had started to slip a little, but if they would just hold for a few more steps, she would make it. They were slipping fast though, and she had suddenly become aware of a tiny flaw in the plan. How would she push the button to call the elevator with no free hands? Suddenly, one sleeve of the shirt fell forward, and nearly exposed her left breast, but she caught the other sleeve between her chin and collarbone narrowly averting disaster. She started to turn back, but the makeshift shirt/pareo covered only the front. She had to keep going, and even though the silk shirt was nowhere near its location of ten seconds ago, she thought she might just make it.
When she reached for the elevator button, the shirt came loose, and the game was up. Sarah stood in shock, and found herself staring back the fortunate young college men, who were lucky enough to be standing at the window when gravity would no longer be denied. Her world moved in slow motion as she stood in the lobby completely nude. She noticed a man with a small dog crossing the busy intersection, looking straight at her. A man driving a truck, two elderly ladies walking arm in arm, a man falling off a bicycle, a business man carrying a briefcase, all eyes locked onto her. Her arms were heavy at her sides, and she felt her left hand desperately pulling at the blouse that seemed to be glued to the floor. After several seconds that seemed like hours, the world began to come into focus again, and she saw that the shirt collar was caught under the heel of her remaining high-heeled shoe. She felt as if she might loose her balance, and just when she was sure she would faint, the bell chimed and the elevator door farthest from her opened. She could either stand there naked, or walk thirty feet directly forward, and toward the gaping jaws of the spectators. A sense of calm descended upon her, and she squared her shoulders, held her head up, and strode purposefully forward with the grace and elegance of a duchess arriving to court. She casually pulled the torn blouse across the floor behind her like an errant puppy. Stepping into the elevator, she heard cheers from beyond the lobby windows, as her last reserve of self confidence was used up. She pushed the button marked 18, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Instantly, the elevator car lurched upward, and the blouse disappeared.
Sarah stood in the elevator in shock. What the hell just happened? Panicked, she looked around the floor of the elevator. There was absolutely no sign of the blouse!
Finally, she realized that it must have caught in the outer door. Sarah was in a daze. In the mirror, she was horrified to see herself standing in the elevator of her office building, wearing precisely one shoe, two stockings, a watch, two earrings, and absolutely nothing else. "Hair looks nice, make-up too," she heard herself mocking naked woman in the mirror. She wondered if she was losing her mind.
Walter had not been surprised to learn that Clifford left early. Walter knew this was a bad job, and he only worked it because it allowed him to go to college in the daytime. He had read the logbook and decided to check the fire door on eighteen himself just in case, and he also checked ten through seventeen for good measure. He didn't find anything wrong with the fire door, but the access panel to the firehouse had been left open. There was a woman's high-heeled shoe along with a suit jacket on the hallway carpet next to the door. He had left them both on the floor to avoid having to write another report. The Security Manual said nothing about discarded clothing, and besides, if there was a problem, Clifford would catch the blame.
The next hour or so had passed slowly, and Walter had studied for his exam, without seeing anyone else in the building. There had been only one car in the garage when he arrived for work, so he expected it would be a quiet night. He noticed movement on the security monitor, and when he turned to look, he almost fell over in the chair. There was a naked girl in elevator 5. Even in the grainy black and white monitor, she looked like Elle MacPherson on her best day. Walter pushed a tape into the VCR attached to the security camera system, and zoomed in. He punched several commands into the security system and determined that the elevator was headed to 18. Instinctively, he locked the 18th floor out of the elevator system. The car stopped on 17. He watched the monitor as the naked woman peered out into the hallway and stopped, pushing the button for 18 again. With a few keystrokes, Walter shut down elevator 5.
He continued to watch the naked woman as she did nothing for a long time,but then, she cautiously exited elevator 5, stepping out onto the 17th floor. Walter switched to a different camera. The 17th floor housed Morgan Equities, the management company that owned the building, and the company that paid Walter. Nearly the entire 17th floor was monitored by the security cameras that were at his control. With several more keystrokes, Walter locked out the 17th floor on the rest of the elevators.
Why was the elevator taking so long, Sarah wondered, as she pushed the call button again? She knew she was on the floor below her office, and if she could just get upstairs to her car keys and purse... The 17th floor was dimly lit, and Sarah was confident that no one was working at this hour. She looked at golden statue of her nude form reflecting in the polished gold surface of the elevator doors. It was all very surreal, a statue with one shoe and thigh high stockings. She knew she was not thinking clearly, but she realized that she had waited for far too long for the elevator to come, and that it probably wasn't coming. She walked to the end of the hallway, hurrying past the large glass windows, and opened the door to the stairwell. She blocked it securely with her remaining shoe, and padded up the stairs to 18, hoping in vain that the door would be open. She headed back down the hallway of seventeen and had just walked around the corner as the elevator chimed and the door opened. Sarah peeked her head around the corner and saw Walter, the night watchman exit the elevator.
"H-h-h e-ell-l oo," she stammered, hardly able to find her voice. Walter walked toward her. "Stop! Please!" she cried, halting Walter in his tracks. "I-I-I-I'm Nak... I've lost all of my clothes," she said softly, forcing herself not to cry.
Walter stared at the face and bare shoulder of the nude woman. She was a lovely blond woman at least as tall as he was. She looked like the Homecoming Queen, like Miss Iowa, not exotic, but very pretty. He had seen her once or twice in the building, but he had never had occasion to speak to her. Like everyone else, Walter had dreamed of a situation exactly like this one since his teen years. Now, here he was twenty feet from a beautiful, and completely naked woman. The strange thing was, he was not really enjoying this at all. He was certain that he was more nervous than she was, and possibly more embarrassed. "What's your name?" he asked her, because he could think of nothing else.
"Sarah Miles," she told him, and even managed a faint smile, nearly melting his heart. "I went out on the roof to smoke a cigarette, I-I-I know we're not supposed to, and the fire door locked behind me..." Sarah recounted the entire tale about losing her clothes, but omitting some of the most embarrassing parts, like the audience of college boys. Walter listened dumbly, completely transfixed by the story, and by the elegant woman telling it.
"What can I do to help?" Walter asked. He wanted desperately to see more than her face and shoulder, but his desire to relieve her distress was overwhelming.
"If I could just get to my office on eighteen, my jacket is there, which would be a start. Then, I had hoped to get my purse and reach my car without being seen by anyone." Anyone else she didn't say. "I may have some clothes in the trunk, but I'm sure I have a blanket at least."
"I could go and get your jacket," Walter volunteered, "and I could get your purse too if you tell me where it is." Walter paid close attention to the description given. Then he took the elevator back down to the security room and reset the system to allow the car to access 18. He paused for along time watching Sarah miles pace nervously under the security camera, which she had failed to notice. Walter put another tape in the VCR and panned and zoomed the camera in the parking garage until he had a good view of the last remaining car, and pressed the record button. He quickly returned to the 18th floor and retrieved Sarah's purse, shoe, and jacket. As he walked back to the elevators, he found himself fantasizing about seeing Sarah Miles naked. "I'm sorry ma'am, the Security Manual says I have to handcuff you unless you show me some I.D.," Walter shook his head, dispatching the fantasy scenario, but the nagging desire remained.
Entering the elevator, he went against his better judgment, and dropped the jacket to the floor. When the elevator door opened on 17, he did not look out, but he announced to her, "Sarah, I didn't see your jacket, but I'll set your purse and shoe on the floor here. I'm going to go check the security desk to see if Cliff picked up the jacket. If I find it, I'll bring it down to you in your car." Before she could object, he pressed the elevator button labeled G2. He thought he heard Sarah thank him just as the doors closed. Walter felt very guilty, but he was desperate to have a better look at Sarah Miles.
When he exited at garage level 2, Walter knew he had to think fast. He ducked into the stairwell and turned off the lights with a key on his belt. Inside the now darkened stairwell, he was sure he could watch without being seen, and he had no sooner situated himself than the elevator chimed. He held his breath and nothing happened for at least half a minute. Then, he saw Sarah's face in the doorway to the elevator lobby, her body hidden behind the door as she scanned the area. The anticipation was nearly killing him. Without fanfare, Miss Nude Iowa, Sarah Miles, walked out of the elevator lobby slowly, while cautiously searching the garage. She was completely naked, wearing only her pale stockings, and carrying her shoes in one hand, and her purse in the other. She was a natural blond, he thought to himself, as she continued toward him. Her build was athletic, the body of a runner, thin, but with very nice breasts. Her legs were long, and even naked and in stockinged feet, she looked like a runway model. She was facing him directly now, and was no more than thirty feet away. He eyes reveled in her beauty, roving head to toe, until she turned her back to him, setting her purse and shoes on the trunk of her car. She had just located her keys when her pale skin was illuminated by the headlamps of an approaching car. Sarah stood perfectly still, frozen in place until the car stopped ten feet from her. A woman leapt from the car as Sarah stood helplessly.
"Sarah! What the hell are you doing?" the woman asked loudly, her question reverberating in the garage.
"What the hell are you doing?" Sarah shouted back.
The woman looked concerned and puzzled. "I left the MacKenzie file on my desk, and I need to review it for tomorrow. Why are you lurking around the parking garage naked?"
Sarah leaned on the car, looking at her stockings "Oh God, Maria! I'm sorry. I'm so glad to see you. I lost my shoe, and I thought you took it, and then I lost my jacket, and then I tore my skirt, and I was standing on the roof in my bra and stockings, and I ended up... I've been running around the building stark naked for hours!"
"Here, put this on," Maria said, taking off her raincoat and holding it up for Sarah.
Walter knew the show was over, but he was glad that Sarah's friend had come to rescue her. He ran up the two flights to ground level, and then took the elevator back down to G2, emerging from the elevator lobby where Sarah's most recent show had originated. He greeted the two women politely.
"This is Maria," Sarah said. "She works with me at Stoddard."
"Nice to meet you ma'am," said Walter. "I found your jacket at the front desk," he lied, as he handed it to her.
Walter found that he was no less excited now, standing next to Sarah, averting his eyes. He looked at her legs and stockinged feet, and knowing that she wore nothing else underneath her friends raincoat.
"I'll drive you home, you nut," Maria said laughing, and Sarah laughed too. "We can come get your car tomorrow."
Sarah smiled and thanked Walter for all his help. She got into Maria's car and they drove up the ramp to the garage exit.
Walter ran to the security office as fast as his legs could carry him. When he arrived, he was gasping for breath as he hit the rewind buttons on the VCRs, not for the last time that evening.
Snowman