She was wearing a short skirt. She was my age, late thirties, well-built. I was numb, shocked, and ashamed that I had actually climaxed during that revolting episode. I tried to duck into an open doorway before she saw me, but as she stepped onto the elevator, I saw her sneering at me. I gagged, feeling myself about to wretch. I was in terror of meeting up with Tina again. I slid my finger in deeper, watching her reaction. There, in the lobby, waiting for an elevator was Tina. Fondling me. I pushed her back against the wall. Grabbing me, holding me against the wall of the stairwell. I sat there, drained, once more unsure, uneasy. The woman was brazen, or insane, enough to sign her name. What is she, perverted or something? Her cunt muscles tightened spastically on my finger as I worked it in and out, in and out, over her clit and back up inside her. I rushed her, and now it was me pinning her to the wall. I stared at her, her eyes half-closed, face moving closer and closer to my own, ready to… I gathered all my strength and pushed her away.