The Elevator Eightieth Floor (Patreon)

Continued from Seventy-Second Floor.

Several days passed until Marissa found Wyatt again.  Marissa got lost, but she didn't stay lost.

"I fixed everything with my husband," Marissa announced.

"You did what?"

"Yes, I got rid of him.  I can't be your sex slave and still have a husband...But I can get him back if you want me to."

"You're nuts lady."

"I'm Marissa.  What can I do to prove I mean it.  I belong to you now."

Wyatt had been thinking about what had happened before.  How could he not?  "OK, if you are my sex slave, give me your panties."  Wyatt knew that this woman wouldn't do that.  She was just making his life miserable for staring at her ass.  What's the big deal?

Marissa slipped out of her pumps with a two-inch heel.  She reached under her skirt and pulled down her pantyhose to her knees.

"Oh My God," Wyatt thought.  "She is doing it!"

She raised one foot and pulled one leg of the hose off.  Then she raised her other foot and pulled the hose completely off.  She reached under her skirt again and used the same procedure to pull off her panties.  She handed them to Wyatt.  They were black nylon bikini panties with a lace trim.

Wyatt looked at them, she was dangling the panties right in front of him waiting for him to accept them.

"NO F**KING SH*!" he said.

"Anything else?" Marissa asked.

"She did it?" Wyatt thought.  "She wasn't fooling around.  "Well maybe so."

"Show me your tits!" Wyatt said a little too loudly than he meant to.

"Take these," Marissa gave Wyatt her panties.  He held it outstretched by the corner.

With her hands free, this time Marissa lifted her green sleeveless blouse exposing her black satin bra and then pulled down her bra to expose her boobs.

Wyatt stared at them opened mouthed.  He didn't know what to do.  He couldn't bring the woman to his apartment,  his family was there.  How could he explain this wonderfully odd woman to them?

"Believe me now?"

"Y-Y-Y-Yes."

"I'm your sex slave forever."

"D-D-D-Do you have an apartment here?"

"Yes."

"Is anyone home?"

"No, I told you I got rid of my husband."

"Let's go to your place and we'll t-t-talk about it."

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