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Strangers In The Darkness free porn video
Stuffy…. officious… prude! Lauren ran through the list of insults in her head. Her Vehement hatred blazed clearly in her eyes. Overpaid! She brushed brusquely past an office secretary, who made a slight sound of protest, which was stifled by Lauren’s incredible rage.
Lauren reached the elevators at long last and pounded the button for the bottom floor, which was, in fact, underground. The building was made on some soft dirt, or something, and all the entrances had been moved up a level, but the bar had remained underground, in true pub fashion.
The elevator ride droned on for a longer time then Lauren would have liked, and it only served to further agitate her already foul mood. The Muzak was annoying, and the only other company she had in the elevator was a severely overweight, over perfumed, underwashed wheezing woman who was, at the moment, indulging in a twinkie. Lauren forced the boiling anger back down, and took a deep breath.
After all … it wasn’t the elevator Muzak, or the woman who had pissed her off. No, that honor was left to the Corporate Bastards with whom she had to deal. Lauren drew the cover art of romance novels. A horribly controlled, underpaid job, which she really did hate, but did for the money. The art was all too similar, swoon torn bodice babe, and overmuscled superhunk, with no shirt.
Lauren had taken the advice of a long time friend, and tried to make her work life somewhat more enjoyable by bringing in some new artwork, to make the book stand out from the others on the shelf. The response had been less then good, even though her sketches had been better then most of the crap she’d done over the last year. The general reply was that Lauren ‘obviously didn’t understand the field’ and she should ‘stick to what she knew.’ Lauren was an impatient woman, with a temper, this did not go over well.
The author, for her part, had seemed interested, and had even tried, for a short time, to further ask Lauren if she was interested in following through with any of these sketches. However, the author was no match for the five members of the committee whose heads were so far stuck up each other’s asses that there was no room for a shred of logic, or change to get through.
The blunt stomping of both the works of the writer, and Lauren’s own artistic vision had made her physically ill with rage. She had, at that point, with as much control as she could muster, told the committee exactly what they could do with themselves. After which, she bid the author a good day, gathered her portfolio, and stormed out of the room.
Truth be known, she wasn’t ever expecting to hear back from them, and strangely, she didn’t care.
Lauren caught a glimpse of her own eyes on the reflective surface of the elevator wall, and with much effort, forced herself to calm down. Her red hair looked like fire on her head, and her gray eyes were smoldering. She set her portfolio down on the floor, and leaned it against her legs, smoothing her T-shirt back out, and adjusting her jeans in place. She made a mental note to hit the punching bag when she got home. She wasn’t a small girl, never had been, though she took pains to keep her figure at some state of well being. She didn’t care if she was never a size 8, as long as she was in shape.
The elevator stopped, and Lauren strode out, pushing the glass door of the bar aside without slowing. The bar was sparsely populated, one somewhat handsome man with dark hair, green eyes, and a well shaped figure was seated at the bar, with a blonde, overly made-up teenie bopper chattering incessantly in his ear. He was wearing a tailored suit that probably came from some French place Lauren couldn’t pronounce. He smelled of money. Lauren shot him a look of sympathy as he glanced her way. There was a couple at one of the tables nuzzling drunkenly into each other’s necks, and then the bartender. An older man, named John with a distinguished looking gray streak, and prominent cheekbones. John gave Lauren a nod as she sat down at the bar. The whole room was done in dark wood, stained a deep mahogany, with black marble surfacing, and stained glass accents. It had to have cost a fortune.
‘How are you today?’ He asked, setting a basket of pretzels before Lauren had to ask.
‘Peachy’ Lauren growled as a response, smiling wanly. ‘Can I have a Bud Light, please?’
‘Sure thing, Lauren.’ John said, easily. He was use to her moods. The dark haired suit glanced over, and looked Lauren up and down. Lauren looked back, and raised her eyebrow a bit. The man grinned roguishly, before the teenybopper noticed he wasn’t looking at her anymore. She glared at Lauren and started to crawl over the man, he glanced skyward, and started to protest, when the earth came out from beneath Lauren. She was surprised at first, when she found herself off the barstool and on the floor. The ground was still for only another few seconds, just enough time for Lauren to hear the suit curse.
‘Shit, it’s an earthquake.’ He murmured, pushing the blonde toward the door. ‘Get under the doorway.’ He ordered. She bore no protest, pushing over a chair on her way to the ‘safe’ doorframe. The man held a hand down to Lauren.
‘Come on!’ He ordered. ‘Get up.’
Lauren took his hand just as the real earthquake started. Her rescuer fell against the bar, and hauled Lauren to her feet. Lauren glanced up as she heard something scream above her.
‘The ceiling!’ She screamed, pointing with her free hand. He looked up and his eyes went wide for a second. He glanced around frantically, as the ceiling started to fall, and threw Lauren bodily over the bar, following himself a moment after.
‘Get under the bar. It’s Marble, maybe it’ll hold!’ He yelled, turning and throwing a box of plastic cups away from under the shelf, and shoving Lauren underneath it. Her head hit something metal, and stars broke out over her eyes. Darkness crept over her vision as the twisted screaming came to a terrible crescendo and the ceiling came down in a shower of dust, debris, metal, and glass.
The air was stale, but Lauren was thankful to be breathing. She kept her eyes closed a moment longer, very glad to be awake, as she tested her limbs to see that she still had them all, and that nothing was broken. There was a cut over her eye, it was bleeding bad, but then, all headwounds did. It didn’t feel serious outside of that. So she pressed her hand on it, and finally opened her eyes and saw… Nothing…
The room was pitch black, not even a shred of light illuminated the small space around her. And above her own throbbing heart, and ragged breathing, she could hear nothing… Was she alone? Trapped? For the second time that day, Lauren felt ill. She indulged herself in a moment of silent tears, and finally got to her knees and started to feel around. The space was no larger then a walk in refrigerator on it’s side, and, as far as Lauren could tell, no less cold. How long had she been out, that the cold had seeped in through the cracks of the building? She felt along the floor, and came across another hand. Her hero, the dark haired suit, it had to be. She shuddered for a moment. Was he dead?
‘Hello?’ She asked, shakily. ‘Oh, God, don’t be dead…’ She followed his hand up, and found a piece of debris that had apparently fallen over him. It didn’t seem to be holding anything up, so she pushed it off of him, and heard his breathing faintly.
‘Wake up.’ She urged, shaking him a bit. ‘Come on…. Wake up!’
He took a long breath, inhaled some dust, coughed, and groaned.
‘Thank God…’ She murmured. ‘Hey, can you hear me?’
‘Loud and clear…’ He moaned. ‘I can’t see anything… am I blind?’
‘No. There’s no light.’
‘Oh, well, that’s good.’ He said. Lauren heard him shift around a bit. ‘Ouch! Shit… There’s broken glass on the floor over here, be careful.’
‘Um. Okay.’ Lauren heard herself say, most intelligently.
‘Are you all r
ight?’ He asked, sitting up beside her, and touching her arm to see where she was.
‘Fine, I think. I have a headache, maybe a concussion, but nothing worse.’ Lauren said, looking to where she thought he was. ‘You?’
‘Oh me? I’m just peachy.’ He said with a grin in his voice. ‘So, we’re both relatively unscathed. It’s a miracle.’
‘I’d have to agree. I’m pretty glad to be alive at the moment. Thank you.’
‘Welcome.’ He said, patting her hand reassuringly.
‘So… now what?’ Lauren asked, looking around, as if she could actually see through the darkness.
‘Well, The way I see it, we should stay here for now. There is air, no matter how much, or how little, and we seem to be in a pretty stable pocket, so, I don’t see a reason to move. Besides, the longer we stay here, the stronger chance we have that they’ll find us.’
‘They? Whose they?’ Lauren asked, glancing in his direction.
‘You know. Firemen, rescue people. They comb in patterns. As long as we don’t stay ahead of their patterns, they’ll find us, and if we don’t move, then we stand a better chance to be stumbled upon.’
‘That makes sense…’ Lauren admitted, sitting back against a piece of debris. She sighed a bit. ‘My clothes are ruined.’ He laughed loudly, and Lauren jumped, the sound was echoed in the small tight quarters.
‘Don’t even start that! You sound like Candi!’ He said, still laughing.
‘Candi – you mean the blondeheaded Jailbait?’
‘Ah, so you noticed her.’ He observed, she listened to him crawl around a moment.
‘It was hard not too.’ Lauren commented, wryly.
‘Speaking on names… What’s yours?’
‘Lauren Styles, and you are?’
‘Matthew Coldwell.’
‘Nice to meet you Matthew.’
‘Charmed, I’m sure.’ Matthew said back, she could hear the continued smile in his voice. ‘What a lovely first date, don’t you think?’
‘How can you be so calm?’
‘It’s more like shock. Not calm.’ He said, after a moment of thought. Lauren, satisfied in the response, nodded. He left her side, feeling deeper into the darkness.
‘Where are you going?’ Lauren asked, the fear accidentally creeping back into her voice.
‘Don’t worry… I can’t go far. I’m just looking for useful things…’ He said soothingly. ‘Calm down some, okay? Tell me about yourself.’
‘Okay…’ Lauren said, her voice shaking. She forced herself to take a breath, and shivered some. Talking to the dismembered voice was like talking to herself. She wondered if the darkness was driving her crazy.
‘Lauren.’ Matthew said sternly. ‘Don’t you flip on me now.’
Lauren nodded though he didn’t see it, forcing several deep breaths into her system, and finally gathered up the will to talk at length.
‘I’m an artist. I work on the covers of romance novels… or well, I did, until I told the committee to blow it out their collective asses.’ Lauren started. Matthew laughed softly. ‘I live alone, in an apartment across town, that hopefully is still standing. I have one cat, which I named Furface, and the rest of my family lives across the country on the East coast.’
‘Cute name for a cat. Furface…’ He said, she guessed he was grinning.
‘What about you?’
‘Well, Unfortunately, I am an editor. I work in the Sci Fi department, on the third floor. By the way, who were you dealing with? Ed?’
‘He’s the one.’ Lauren said, loosening up some.
‘Yeah… he’s got a lot of stupid ideas about how things should be done. And he likes to hear himself talk. His little staff of ass kissers doesn’t help either.’ Matthew said, bemused. Lauren listened to him circle her, feeling around on the floor. ‘Ah hah.’
‘What did you find?’
‘A miraculously unbroken bottle of something.’ Matthew crawled up and sat down, fumbling with the cork.
‘Don’t you think this might be a bad time to drink?’
‘Oh contraire. We’re in a dark, silent, cold, small space. We’re stuck, and we can’t start a fire, because it would deplete our oxygen. On top of which, we’re both scared. I’ve never seen a better time to drink in my life.’
‘I think you Editors have a common thread -‘ Lauren said jokingly as Matthew slid in close to her. ‘You all like to hear yourselves talk.’
‘Be nice, or I won’t share.’ Matthew said, humor in his voice. She finally heard him pop the cork, and smell it. ‘Red wine…’ He took a drink and made an indulgent sound.
‘What is it?’
‘Port wine. Good vintage. Personally, I think the only wine for an earthquake is a Zinfandel, but Port will do.’ His warmth on one side of her, made the rest of her feel cold, she shivered a bit, and Matthew paused.
‘Lean forward.’ He said, warmly, handing her the bottle and leaning away. She took a drink and followed his instructions. A few seconds later, he dropped his jacket over her shoulders, and left his arm wrapped around her back.
‘Slick.’ She said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘Thank you.’ She felt as if her breath had caught in her throat, and she took another long drink of wine, before handing the bottle back.
‘A guy’s got to take all the chances he can get.’ Matthew squeezed her shoulder gently, and she curled up against him. A moment of comfortable silence passed between them. Lauren listened to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, and the sound of him taking another drink. There was something oddly comforting about the mundaneness of the two noises.
‘What will you do when we get out of here, Lauren?’ He finally asked.
‘Check on my cat.’ Lauren said decisively. He handed the bottle back to her. ‘What about you?’
‘I haven’t decided. I haven’t got a cat, dog, fish, bird, or girlfriend… Just me to look out for.’
‘I can’t live like that. I need to know someone would be upset if I never returned… even if it’s just because the food dish wasn’t refilled.’ Lauren said, after a second of thought. Matthew squeezed her shoulder again, gently.
‘I’ve never lived with anyone since I moved away from my parents, and I never much minded… but – to be honest, I’m really glad you’re here with me, now.’
‘Mutual…’ Lauren said, snaking an arm behind his back. She took another drink, and handed the bottle back.
‘Slick.’ He said, she could tell he was grinning. ‘You know. I’ve given the matter some thought. Maybe we should move to Florida. There are no active fault lines running through Florida… even if they do have hurricanes… Hm.’
‘Do you always joke around so much? Or am I special…’ Lauren asked, a beat passed and she added. ‘Not that I’m complaining…’
There was a long silence in which Lauren heard Matthew’s steady breathing, as if he were deep in thought. His arm didn’t release her back, his fingers rubbing her shoulder with absent affection.
‘No, I suppose I don’t… I’m just -‘
‘Don’t say you’re scared… I’m scared enough for the both of us. Say you’re trying to make me feel better.’ Lauren said quickly, interrupting him.
‘ – Trying to make you feel better.’ He said, and she could feel his gentle smile through his words. He took a long drink of the Port as she reached up with her free hand and touched his face gently. He turned toward her as she searched his well chiseled features, and brushed her fingers over his lips. She felt them tighten a bit under her touch.
‘Lauren… it’s not all and the best idea to be turning me on here…’ He murmured. Lauren smiled to herself, and swept her fingers over his jawline and to the back of his neck.
‘Oh contraire.’ She whispered, before leaning forward to kiss him, clumsily at first, unsure of exactly where his lips were. He took in a short breath as her lips pressed fully against his, and froze for a moment before a groan came from somewhere in the back of his throat. He pulled her tightly against him, and hauled her up into his lap.
‘Lauren… God…’ He murmured. He swept his tongue over he
r lips, and she welcomed it between them, to search her mouth. He tasted like the wine, a taste that was, in the moment even more intoxicating then the alcohol itself. He set down the bottle away from them, and returned his now free hand to her hips, and let it slide up her body to one of her breasts. He squeezed it lightly to feel her response, which he was pleased to find was a light moan, and a slight stiffening of her body. She started to unbutton his shirt, clumsily. He shifted uncomfortably beneath her, his fingers coming down only long enough to worm their way under her shirt, and then back up her body, and under her bra to tease the already stiffened nipple of her breast directly.
She worked quickly, under this new incentive, and pulled his shirt apart recklessly, her fingers drawing over the warm skin of his chest, searching the curves of muscles and the feeling of his own nipples to her hands. He reached around behind her and slipped the bra open, pulling the straps away from the main part of the bra and pulling it off of her, leaving him free to explore her breasts, a fact that Lauren more then enjoyed. One of her hands slipped almost of it’s own accord down to the waistline of his pants, trying to slide past them to touch him.
Matthew broke the kiss long enough to lay Lauren back on the floor, he sat away from her a moment, and she heard a zipper as he undid his own pants. She followed suit, dragging her pants and underwear down far enough to allow him easy access, not caring so much if her clothing was off (she’d never be able to find them if they were), but caring about the amount of access he had to her body, which, at the moment, she wanted to be an all access pass.
He leaned down and pulled her shirt over her breasts, making her shiver from the cold in the air. He quickly found one of her breasts with his lips, running his tongue over her nipple, making her moan loudly into the small space, the moan echoing with an almost deafening volume back toward them. She knew this was going to be fast paced and unromantic, and that didn’t bother her. She needed her mind off the fact that they were trapped in rubble.
She swept a hand down to brush over his impressive erection, and she felt him grunt with an encompassing need.
‘Lauren… keep that up, and I can’t promise I’ll be gentle…’ He said, thickly.
‘That’s fine by me, Matthew.’ Lauren said, breathlessly. Her voice somewhere caught in her throat. ‘Take me…’
The low growl he emitted made her gasp, at the same time, he thrust into her leaning on one elbow, and setting his free hand to pulling her closer. She squirmed a bit, letting him settle comfortably into her. Just then he grunted, and pulled himself from her, before thrusting back, starting a relentless rhythm. When he was content she wasn’t going to escape, he brought his hand back to her breast, and squeezed it, with an almost painful need. He kissed her then, with no amount of restraint. The whole experience was filled with a driving, passionate, insatiable need, the likes she’d never felt from a lover before. He needed her, wanted her, and had to have her in the most wicked of ways. He trailed his finger off her breast, and down toward their frantic meeting, letting his finger meet her clitoris, tentatively at first, and then in swift, rough circles.
The feeling made her dizzy, and she realized that was in part because she wasn’t breathing. She took in a deep breath, and pushed against him, meeting his pace, and pushing beyond it, setting her own. He filled her in long, hard strokes, very certain in his movements.
‘Oh God…’ Lauren gasped, breaking into a sweat, as he leaned his head back to moan into their small universe. ‘Fuck… Matthew… Harder… God…’
He didn’t need to be asked again, his next thrust was swift, hard, and deep. She cried out words that made no sense, her mind a mess, as his hands came down to her hips to haul her against him with each oncoming thrust. She grabbed a hold of his shirt, and leaned up, kissing him with the same relentless ferociousness.
The heat innermost in her body grew and creshendoed within moments, bringing her to the most incredible orgasm she’d ever had. He wasn’t far behind her, her body milking every last bit from him, the warm jets setting her off on a second, lesser, but no less pleasurable orgasm. They lay spent, in the darkness, gasping for breath. God could only have told them how much time passed, they had no way of telling, and couldn’t trust their own perception of it.
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