Thirteen Hours (3 page)

“Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Probably at home with my book, my cat, and my bathtub,” Laurel said with an impatient snort. “I refuse to climb up there. We’re not on a sinking ship. It won’t hurt us to stay right where we are and wait for help.”

“It hurts my productivity,” Dana protested. Once again, she raised longing eyes to the ceiling.

“Listen, I’m not going to go all disaster movie with you for the sake of some stupid proposal,” Laurel replied firmly. “I’ve always said that I would be the first character to die if I were in one of those films. I’m convinced of it, in fact. I’m just not that clever or tenacious…or lucky, and my life is more important than your getting to work another Friday night.”

“Important to whom?” Dana muttered.

“Use this time to relax.” Laurel’s expression softened into a cajoling smile. “I promise to try and keep you entertained.”

“Will this entertainment involve bad music and naked dancing?”

“Only if you ask nicely.” She paused. “Technically, your half hour was up two hours ago.”

Dana shook her head. The back of her neck felt hot with renewed embarrassment. “How much did that little performance set Scott back?”

Laurel clicked her tongue and gave Dana a look of mild disapproval. “Now, that’s between Scott and me. If you want to know, you can ask him.”

“I’ll do that if we ever get out of here.”

“I thought cell phones worked inside elevators,” Laurel said. Hers lay on the floor between them, discarded when she couldn’t get a signal.

“Technology. I bet you feel naked without it right now, don’t you?”

Dana managed a sheepish nod. “Yeah. I think it’s like a security blanket for me at this point. I feel really…vulnerable without my computer.”

“I’m the same way.” Laurel held up her hands, shaking them in exaggerated trembling. “I’m already getting twitchy at the thought of not checking my e-mail for the next twelve hours.”

“My inbox tends to slow down on the weekends.” Dana allowed a self-deprecating grin. “You wouldn’t believe how many people take a break from work on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Well, I get some school-related e-mails, but most are personal, especially during the weekends. So I check all the time.”

She never would’ve taken Laurel for a computer geek, Dana mused. E-mail and
The Poseidon Adventure.
She was full of surprises.

“I don’t do all that much personal e-mail. Just the usual family stuff to Mom and Dad.”

“Where do they live?”

“Royal Oak.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“One brother. Younger. Last time I checked, he’s still practically living at home with my parents.”

“I don’t have any siblings, but I always thought that would have been fun,” Laurel said. “I’ve got a few really good friends all over the world. Online friends, you know. I’m not—” Inexplicably, she blushed.

“I’m not the kind of person who goes out a lot to the bars or anything. My closest friends tend to be the ones I meet online. The friendship is more focused on communicating with each other rather than distracting ourselves with food and alcohol.”

The realization that she’d stereotyped Laurel made Dana feel stupid with shame. She had no idea who this woman was, but she’d insulted her anyway. Wanting to make up for her insensitivity, she tried to take an interest in Laurel’s online hobby. “So…where are some of the places your friends live?”

“Australia.” Laurel seemed happy they were finally just talking like new acquaintances. “France. Oh, and sometimes I e-mail this really interesting woman in Portugal.”

Dana tried to imagine becoming friendly with a virtual stranger, someone she had never seen before in real life. Hell, she could barely manage making friends face-to-face, let alone separated by miles of ocean. Scott was her friend because they had grown up together more than anything else.

“What do you talk about?” she asked.

“God, anything. What’s going on in our lives. Our worries, our fears. Politics, religion, current events. Sex.” Laurel paused to shoot her a wolfish grin. “Always sex.”

Dana could feel the blush creep across her face, an unstoppable attack on her composure. Hesitating for only a moment, she asked, “Like…cybersex?”

Laurel laughed long and hard at the tentative question. “No, we just talk about what we enjoy, who we want, what we’d like to try. What we’ve fantasized about.”

Dana felt incredibly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. Still, she couldn’t resist one last question.

“Have you ever had cybersex before?”

“Oh, sure,” Laurel said, waving a dismissive hand. “On occasion. Usually when I’m feeling pretty desperate and masturbation alone just isn’t going to cut it for me. It’s okay, but not nearly as fun as the real thing. You know?” Almost as an afterthought, she said, “Have you tried it?”

Though there was no real reason for her to blush after Laurel’s revelation, Dana’s face was on fire. “Yeah. Once or twice.”

“I had cybersex with a man once,” Laurel said. “Just to see what it would be like. I’ll tell you what, if men are half as bad in bed as this guy was with the keyboard, I’m confident that I’m not missing a damn thing.”

Dana shrugged. “Probably not.” She’d had one-time encounters with both men and women online. The men tended to bore her to death with their crude phrasing and rampant misspellings. Not to mention all the penis talk.

“So are they as bad in bed as they are online?” Laurel asked.

Dana thought about Jason Lewis, her first and only boyfriend.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t like talking about sex, do you?” Laurel’s friendly gaze seemed full of regret, and perhaps a little pity.

Dana looked down at her lap, desperate for a way to send their conversation in a different direction and coming up totally blank. After a period of awkward silence, she asked, “Do you think we could change the subject?”

“Sure.” Laurel stretched one long leg out, scooting away from the wall to poke at one of Dana’s feet with the tip of her shoe. “Whatever’s going to make you happy, birthday girl. So what do you want to talk about instead?”

Inevitably, Dana’s mind refused to budge from thoughts of sex—ideally with Laurel. She imagined latching her lips onto one of the fat nipples she had seen earlier, sucking hard at the rosy pink flesh.
Jesus, get a grip.
She cleared her throat.

“What book were you going to read tonight?” She winced at the way her voice squeaked at the non sequitur.
In the bathtub. Naked.

Laurel hid a toothy grin behind her hand. “Not a very good attempt at changing the topic, I’m afraid. It was a collection of lesbian erotica.”

My God, she’s sex obsessed.
Dana shook her head. “So, I’m trapped in an elevator with a lesbian nymphomaniac.”

“I can think of worse things to have happen on a Friday night,” Laurel retorted. “And I wouldn’t consider myself a nymphomaniac. Just in possession of a very healthy—though underutilized, not that it’s any of your business—sex drive.”

“Well, as long as you keep that healthy sex drive on
your
side of the elevator, we’ll be fine.” Dana regretted the words as soon as she saw the quiet hurt in Laurel’s eyes.
Yes, Laurel, the moment you think I might be okay, I’ll make damn sure you know I’m a jerk.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Laurel muttered.

Shit,
Dana thought. She’d only wanted to steer the conversation away from sex, not alienate her only company for the long night.

Struggling to push past her own verbal gaffe, she quickly plucked another topic out of her memories of their chat so far. “So you’re in school?”

“Yes, at Michigan State.”

“What are you studying?”

“Veterinary medicine. I’m graduating in six months.”

That one stopped Dana cold. As much as she almost couldn’t believe it, she was deeply impressed. And she felt very silly recalling her derogatory remarks to Laurel about not understanding what it felt like to be successful. “Wow. Uh, your cat Isis must be very proud of you, huh?”

Laurel’s smile crinkled her nose in the most adorable way. “Except when I practice on her.”

“Your parents must be proud, too.” It was a blatant attempt to fish for more information, but Dana didn’t care. She had a strange desire to find out which of her many assumptions were wrong.

Laurel lost her sunny expression, though the corners of her mouth remained turned up in a wistful smile. “My mother is very proud, yes.”

Not your father?
Dana didn’t ask the obvious question, afraid to create awkwardness. Instead, she forced herself to say what was long overdue. “I owe you an apology, you know.”

“I know,” Laurel answered. “For what?”

Dana grumbled internally. A part of her was pleased, though. She almost liked that Laurel wouldn’t let her get away with anything. “I apologize for the comments I made about the whole stripping thing. Assuming that it was your career and everything.”

Laurel gave her a solemn nod. “Even if it was, I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I know plenty of girls who strip for a living and, believe it or not, they really are decent human beings.”

“Point taken.” Dana’s head had started to ache, deep and steady.

The pain was subtle, but she sensed that this one could escalate. “I was upset,” she said, thoroughly chastened. “I was trying to hurt you.”

“So you don’t really think I’m just some cheap stripper?” Laurel’s eyes twinkled.

“No.” Dana stared down at the ugly patterned carpeting on the elevator floor. Remembering the perfect breasts she had insisted Laurel cover up, she added, “I would imagine that you’re top of the line, actually.”

“Nah,” Laurel said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It doesn’t generally take much with men. Especially if I’m dancing for a woman. Guys love watching a woman give another woman a lap dance. They’re easy.”

Dana felt sick with embarrassment at the very thought. “Thank God I was alone in the office. I doubt the guys I work with would have considered it very ‘hot’ at all. Not with me involved.”

After long moments of intense visual examination that left Dana squirming where she sat, Laurel said, “You’re hard on yourself, aren’t you? Probably all the time?”

Her voice was kind, but the question rattled Dana. Her head continued to ache. “You’re the one who deemed me the most boring woman alive earlier, remember?”

Even in the dim light, she could see Laurel’s face flush.

“I guess it’s my turn to be sorry,” Laurel said. “I don’t happen to think that’s true.”

“Sometimes it is,” Dana admitted.

“See? Too hard on yourself. You need to stop that.”

Dana snorted. “I can’t make any promises. You know what they say about old habits.”

“For the rest of the night, at least?”

Laurel was so earnest in her request that Dana didn’t have the heart to refuse. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mistress,” Laurel corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“Ma’am makes me feel old. Mistress makes me feel like a kickass dominatrix or something.”

Dana’s instinct was to retreat, but instead she did something uncharacteristic. She played along. “So be it, Mistress.”

One dark eyebrow lifted in amusement. “Much better.”

Dana chuckled, then winced at her growing awareness of the pain in her skull.
Please, no,
she thought to herself.
Don’t let this be a bad one.

“Something wrong?” Laurel asked.

Dana concentrated hard on breathing, trying to stave off the massive headache that threatened. “Just a tension headache. I get them when I’m feeling anxious.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? I wish I had some Tylenol.”

“Just kill me.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Laurel said. “I’m kind of starting to like you. Why don’t you lie down? You can’t be comfortable sitting all hunched over like that.”

Dana gave the dingy carpeting a skeptical look. “I’m not lying down in here. It’s filthy. And there’s no room.”

The pain in her head intensified, making her wince. Perfect. She was about to get the worst headache of her life while trapped in an elevator with a beautiful, nymphomaniac lesbian stripper who was almost a veterinarian. She groaned in self-disgust. What a loser.

Before Dana could protest, Laurel crawled over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Dana’s voice sounded loud and accusatory.

Shock at Laurel’s touch gave way to plain agony, and she grabbed her head with both hands.

Laurel pulled her closer. “Lie back on me. Put your head on my lap and just try to relax, okay?”

Gritting her teeth, Dana tried to jerk away. “I’m fine. Get back on your own side. You’re making it worse.”

“No, you’re the one doing that. If you’d just lie down, you’d feel better.”

Dana released an explosive sigh. Her head felt so heavy and achy that it was all she could do to keep it upright. Laurel wouldn’t let go.

“Stop fighting me,” she said, pulling Dana into her soft body.

A thrill of pleasure shot through Dana when her arm pressed into Laurel’s generous breasts. She had to admit, her lap looked awfully inviting. Rather than struggle, she surprised herself by acquiescing. She shifted so that she could lay her head down on Laurel’s thigh, stretching her legs across the length of the elevator car.

“Thank you,” Laurel whispered.

Dana gazed up at the smooth skin of her cheeks, the elegant shape of her nose, and the deep, sincere blue of her eyes. Not good.

She was never going to relax staring at this face. She turned onto her side, realizing only too late that she’d rolled the wrong way. Laurel’s stomach was directly in front of her. She took shallow breaths, trying hard not to think about how close her face was to the space between Laurel’s legs.

“Comfortable?” Laurel whispered. Her stomach moved beneath her snug T-shirt as she spoke.

“Oh, yes.” Two hours ago, it would have seemed impossible to be so close to such a beautiful woman. Dana still had trouble believing the elevator nightmare was really happening. It was the kind of far-fetched plot twist that made her grimace when she was reading a book. She moaned as Laurel’s hand found the tense, knotted muscles between her shoulder blades. “Oh, God, that feels good.”