Free Siren Song by A. C. Warneke

the only one still complaining. With his white blond hair slicked back, he looked almost bald, which only emphasized the icy cold blueness of his eyes. Those eyes narrowed as he looked at Lexi with equal parts disdain and lust and she debated whether or not she should get into the elevator or take the stairs. Since she was running so late, she really had no choice; besides, she really didn’t want to try to climb all of those stairs with slip on heels. She was already wobbly enough walking on a flat surface.
    “ Mason,” she said politely, trying to rearrange her bags so she wasn’t quite so off-balance. She shouldn’t have brought so much work home over the weekend, but she wanted to be prepared for the meeting. Unfortunately, the two days had been spent reeling from her family’s revelations, though she still wasn’t sure whether or not she believed them, and the nights had been spent twisting in her sheets, thanks to a certain silver-eyed would-be lover.
    “ You should be illegal,” Mason sneered, though he didn’t take his eyes off her. If anything, he continued to peruse her like he purchased her in the back room of a comic book store. It was a very disconcerting feeling and she fidgeted slightly under his intense scrutiny, trying her damnedest to ignore him. He let out a low whistle, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall, “In fact, I’m pretty sure that in some states you are.”
    “ That makes no sense,” she said, refusing to give in to the urge to tug her skirt down, maybe button up the undone buttons; there was no way she was going to let the weasel win. Wearily, she watched as he unfolded an arm and moved his hand to the stop button. “I’ll have you know that I am wearing five inch stilettos.”
    “ So?” he asked, his hand still moving towards the stop button.
    “ Have you seen what a five inch stiletto can do to a man’s private parts?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow. “Needless to say, you touch that button and you won’t have to worry about testicular cancer. Ever.”
    He quickly – and wisely – pulled his hand back, “Geez, Lexi; you are one cold bitch.”
    “ And don’t you forget it,” she smiled serenely. She knew that her outfits drew attention, and she knew that it was often sexual in nature; but there was something about Mason that gave her the willies. The vibes he gave off were hostile, menacing.
    Trying to tune him out, and ignore the way he was looking at her, she mentally tried to recall which bag she put the information in for that month’s column. Crap, she couldn’t remember. Getting a little nervous, she glanced at her watch. The meeting started six minutes ago.
    “ Are you running late, Lexi?” Mason’s voice interrupted her silent plea for the elevator to move faster, giving her another reason for wanting it to speed up.
    “ Of course not,” she lied, looking up and seeing there were still three floors to go. If the gods were smiling down at her there would be no one getting on. Of course, being that it was an extremely important meeting, she was running really late and she was stuck in the elevator with a lecherous misogynist, the cart stopped two floors from hers. “Damn.”
    Two people stepped on and pushed the button for the ground floor. As the doors closed, she closed her eyes and begged the mischievous gods to let them keep going up. As the elevator started moving, she opened her eyes and realized the gods were spiteful, little bastards. Pressing the button for the floor immediately below their current floor, she waited until the cart came to a lurching stop and the doors yawned open. With a lunge, she stepped off the elevator, hearing the cackling of Mason as it started its trek upwards . She was going to have to climb three flights of stairs in heels.
    Spiteful. Little. Bastards.
    With no other choice, she found the stairwell, pushing the door open and stepping into the other-worldly nothingness of concrete.